Nala Calame

A Calm Surrender || Simala

#simala #para #UGH my nala

simba-lyons‌:

He tried to take Nala’s news in and be at peace with it, but Simba was not good at acceptance. Part of him still wanted to fight. Even though he knew it wouldn’t be fair, because if Simba didn’t exist, if Simba wasn’t in Nala’s life–her life would have looked so much different. Perhaps in a good way. She would already be saving the world.

He was holding her back from saving the world.

Was it terrible to be–okay with that? To still want her all to himself? Yes. He didn’t really have to ask himself that to know the answer. He needed to open his hands, he needed to let her go. But he was afraid. Simba was never good at being afraid.

Simba wasn’t good at a great many things, but Nala was–and that was why he needed her.

But, he was also proud of her. He was. As much as he was fighting with himself, that pride swelled up in his chest. It was mixed with the bitterness of his own sorrow, but that barely tainted it. It was too sweet. Because he knew she’d change the world. That he had to let her go, because he’d never be able to live with himself if he held her back any longer.

How sad and empty Swynlake would be without her. It would be like losing the north star, the one he could always look up to, to guide him.

No, he couldn’t think like that. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly and imagined her teaching kids, helping everyone she could, he imagined clean running water and safe places for people to go. Nala had always been his safe place, but he needed to learn to share.

When he breathed out, he opened his eyes, his eyelashes tangled together and wet, but he didn’t–wouldn’t cry. He took her hands in his and let her go.

“Okay,” he said softly and then cleared his throat. “I mean–you’re going to do briliant, Nala. Of course you will. I’m–I’m really proud of you.” He squeezed her hands and then kissed the back of them.

“I’m sorry, I just–I’m really gonna miss you. You’ll stay for the wedding, yeah?” That was a selfish question too, but– “I can’t get married without you.”

Now that she said it, Nala felt at peace.

She had a plan now. Well, not a plan, but she’d made a decision and she had a goal. Maybe that had been the problem all along. For the past four years, goals had been presented to her and she readily headed toward them. First, she had been here because of InterPride. Then, Simba-- wanting to mend their relationship. And then when it came to transitioning InterPride into a non-profit, of course Nala had to remain at the helm, its loyal captain that would not let this precious company, such a massive part of her life, her parents’ lives, sink. But she’d steered InterPride to shore now, and it was better than it had ever been. Her next goal had been-- Adam. But he was gone. And so she hadn’t had any real reason to be excited for anything in Swynlake like she used to, perhaps besides Simba’s wedding where she played the biggest supporting role, but a supporting role nonetheless.

She needed a new project. And now she had it-- herself. And deciding this unspooled the next steps as if Nala had already moved forward and set an agenda, with clear objectives, outlined strategies, a time table.

She hadn’t, but now she would. She’d put in her letter of resignation-- she’d have to stay at least a month on in order to help screen applicants, though she knew Simba and the Board would do a good job on her behalf as well.

And she’d have to tell her parents. It made her the most nervous. Would her Baba think she was abandoning her duty? Or would he see that there was so much more that she could do?

And yes, there was the wedding.

She smiled at Simba. “You think I’d miss that? Absolutely not. Me leaving will take a while anyway. There’s lots of things to figure out-- though your wedding is going to be my top priority, I swear.” She meant it too and squeezed his hands back.

“And you know Simba, even after your wedding...I’ll always just be a phone call away. I’ll drop everything for you. You only ever have to ask.” She drew in a breath then let it out, and it felt like a massive weight off her shoulders.

“I am so proud of you, Simba. You know that, right?”

A Calm Surrender || Simala

#IM EMOTIONALKJKLFJ #u know this is what i wanted for u nala #go make ur own legacyyyy #para #simala

simba-lyons‌:

Nala touched his cheek and Simba’s brow stayed furrowed. Perhaps it lessened some, because Nala’s hands were warm and curved against his face like they fit there. Perhaps they did. Nala and Simba had been molded from the same block of clay, their bodies just two halves of one whole. Get them wet and they’d meld back together. Her hand was warm and familiar and comforting, even though Simba didn’t realize he needed comforting.

It was Nala who needed it, but Nala–she fixed her own problems. She always had. She had fixed Simba’s problems too, once upon a time. That wasn’t her job anymore, she had put that burden down long ago, but in that moment, Simba wanted to go back to that. He wanted to be twenty, sixteen, twelve–Nala lying for him, Nala telling him what to do.

He watched her warily as she sat up and this time–it wasn’t because he was confused. It was because he did know exactly what was going on in that brain of hers, and there was a selfish part of him trying to reach out and pin her to her seat. Don’t, I can’t. Not without you. The words crawled up his throat, but he swallowed them down.

It wouldn’t be right. Simba knew how much of herself Nala had sacrificed for him. It was time he did the same, wasn’t it? He’d never be able to make the scoreboard even, but he wanted to try anyway, because Nala deserved that from him. She deserved the kind of friend that let go.

Simba had never been good at letting go. He clung to tightly. When he’d been small, he used to accidentally break his toys all the time, because he’d carry them with him everywhere and he was never gentle.

Tears crawled up Simba’s throat, just behind the words, like they were trying to push them out, but Simba swallowed again.

“Okay,” Simba said and sniffed once. He nodded his head and blinked a couple of times. “Okay, yeah–that…that makes sense.” He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. “Where will you go?” he asked, because he knew as suddenly and perfectly as if it had always been there–and they didn’t have to say the rest.

There were two ways this could go. Simba could argue with her some more in his Simba way-- and if he did it would be impossible not to listen to him at least for a few minutes, and to let his passion and conviction find its way into her heart. She’d be convinced. How could you not be convinced, at least for a few moments, when someone like Simba burned so brightly. It could be so annoying, sometimes-- like arguing with the sun! But she knew that some of his points would be valid, and that it would feel good to listen and to believe... if only for a few minutes. Simba’s strength would be her strength. She’d cling, too, a little longer.

But even then. He’d leave. The sun would go down. Nala’s bed would be cold. She’d wake up the next morning to her familiar Swynlake sky, and she’d go to her same job and drink her same coffee and feel all the same things.

She would glad he didn’t argue then-- that Simba decided to do the second option, which he would always have come around to eventually, even if he did so with a little kicking and screaming--

That she had to go.

She smiled again at him, though then again she hadn’t really stopped. He knew the answer; she saw it in his eyes. And something about that was as comforting as Simba fighting on her behalf. Like it really was the right thing to do.

“Home,” she said. Her smile stretched a little more. “Our other home. I think it will be good to be around family again. I can ask my Uncle about his bioengineering work. There are several grant-funded research projects down in Nairobi too, I think I could reach out to them. It might be nice to work on the other side of things, you know? See the work that the Lyons legacy is paying for. Do the work.”

As she talked, she felt her heart warming, like the winter was melting from around it. She hadn’t felt like that in a long time... even when Adam was here.

“I think I’ve done everything I can for InterPride. But there’s more I can do in Kenya. There’s so much more.”

regrowing-deactivated20200530

I hope that my presence on your screens and in magazines may lead you on a similar journey: that you will feel the validation of your external beauty, but also get to the deeper business of being beautiful inside. — Lupita Nyong’o (requested by @tywvin!)

#queen

A Calm Surrender || Simala

#simala #para #THIS JUST REALSFKYllsdk #simba u r the love of nala's life its true god bless it #best friends will always GET ME

simba-lyons‌:

No, Nala said and Simba felt like he missed a step on the stairs.

His smile fell, face crumpling again. What the hell was going on?

Suddenly, part of Simba felt indignant. Angry, almost. Which wasn’t the right reaction, he knew, but he let himself feel it anyway. It wasn’t even at Nala, not really. It was at this–gap. Simba spent a lot of his life being angry about the things he didn’t understand. The things he forgot. He lived so much of his life, in this state of confusion. Things that other people saw so easily–he missed, he forgot, he skipped over.

He wasn’t like that, usually, with people. And he never used to be like that with Nala. No mattered how self-absorbed he could get, he had always been able to look at Nala and know. They understood each other as siblings did–as Simba always imagined siblings did. At least, they had. Simba thought they were okay again–they’d been good for years now–but apparently not.

And it made him…angry at himself. That old frustration coming back up like bile in his throat. It was his fault there was a part of them that would always be…broken. He was probably the reason that Nala looked so–sad now.

(Which was a little selfish, but Simba had always been a little selfish, even when being a martyr.)

Simba did his best to ignore all these things his brain was telling him, but it didn’t help that Nala wasn’t making any sense–

Because yeah, she didn’t do these things. But that didn’t necessarily mean that she couldn’t do it or couldn’t change. Simba would still love her.

He sat there and watched her for a moment after she had collapsed back into the couch, trying to find the part of her that he was missing.

“You’re going through a break up,” he said after a moment, though his voice was still filled with confusion. He felt like he was walking through a minefield, not knowing where the bombs were. Any moment he could set off an explosive. He hated that feeling, but he was Simba so he just–pushed through it. “It is normal, Nala. Everyone goes through it.” He reached out and squeezed her bicep.

They’d had some version of this conversation before-- though traditionally, it was reversed, and Simba was the one leaned against the couch, tear tracks on his cheek, a break-up driving him to booze and/or ice cream. Nala had been there for almost every single one. She knew the script. She saw the way that Simba kept trying to adhere to it, and she saw how it was unraveling between them anyway, because they were nearly thirty now and maybe-- maybe they needed a new damn script. Maybe saying He’s not good enough for you and You’ll find the One wasn’t as effective when adulthood made such things so complicated.

She didn’t even blame Adam too much anymore. Sure, the first few weeks had been some of the most brutal of her life. He’d been a real relationship for Nala. He’d been the future for her, and he was her present. But he lived with a weight that Nala could never help him carry, no matter how much she tried-- just as she would never expect him to understand or carry Nala’s blackness (though lycanthropy was definitely not an equivalent and she wasn’t trying to draw one). It was just...complicated. Loving a person was complicated. Things don’t work out and it’s no one’s fault. Trying to build a life together was complicated--

Sometimes, the One just didn’t exist. Nala was starting to see through the myth.

Honestly, if anyone was her one, it was Simba. The most uncomplicated love she’d ever had in her life. She knew she would love him until the day she died, and that they’d always have each other... no matter where they went.

She smiled gently at him now and reached out. Her hand fell on his cheek, thumb stroking like she could smooth out his confusion as well as the wear of the years between them. Return the two back to when they were kids, and their dreams could be as big as they wanted, because there was no reason not to dream them.

She let her hand fall. “I think I need a real change here, Simba,” she said and slowly pushed herself up. It was easier now that she had cried. She felt. Lighter.

“It’s not just Henry, not just Adam, I-- if it was, I’d be over it by now, I’d distract myself with other things. But I think I’m-- I think I’m bored here. I’m not feeling the joy I used to, going into work every day. It’s just all the same.” She shook her head. “And I like routine, I do. You know I do. But I think-- routine is different from a rut, and I’m in a rut. I can’t climb out of it by sleeping with interns.” She snorted at herself and there it was-- a glimpse at a laugh, even if it was a bitter one.

A Calm Surrender || Simala

#para #simala #hopefully this makes sense it took me longer than neCESsaary

simba-lyons‌:

I slept with him.

This confession hit Simba over the head for two reasons:

Firstly, because Nala didn’t sleep with many people. Simba could count on both hands the amount of people she had. This wasn’t a judgement call. Despite what some people thought of Simba, he actually hadn’t slept with that many people either. Mostly because he was usually in monogamous relationships. (We are not counting the years following his father’s death where Simba had wandered the earth like it was some kind of dystopian hellscape, drinking anything offered to him, sleeping with anyone who offered.) So, yeah, it was gonna be surprising when Nala told him that she’d slept with someone.

Secondly, because wow this reaction was way disproportionate to the…act that had been committed.

(Sidenote that bares mentioning: Simba was slightly salty about this overreaction because HELLO? This was hilarious. It was comedy GOLD. Not to mention, Nala was basically living his dream. As problematic as it was, screwing some kind of intern was right Up There on Simba’s Dirty Fantasy Daydreams. Now that that was out of the way, back to our regularly scheduled programming…)

It was still a wildly out of proportion reaction to getting a crush on an intern. Sure, Simba might whine and cry if he was in the same situation. He’d whined and cried about Berlioz plenty. But, Nala wasn’t whining and crying. She was sobbing–could hardly catch her breath, face screwed up–sobbing.

“Yallah,” Simba breathed out–and it was not at Nala’s confession but out of relief that it wasn’t something more terrible. “Jeez, I’d thought someone died, Nala, the way you’re going on. Just take a deep breath.” Simba rubbed his hand up and down her arm turning his body a little so he could face her properly.

“You didn’t break any rules. And Henry isn’t gonna be your intern forever. If you’ve talked to him about it and he doesn’t wanna transfer and feels comfortable…” Simba gave a little shrug, trying to remember back to his HR course in university and the rules on stuff like that. InterPride had a super lax inter-office relationship policy anyway. It was a family company, it always prided (no pun intended) itself on the people it brought together.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He gave her one of his signature Simba smiles, all sunny and warm, but not too bright. Just the right wattage to dry some of those tears.

Simba didn’t get it.

Of course he didn’t get it. She didn’t blame him-- because they weren’t kids anymore. Back when they were kids, maybe Simba could just look her in the eyes and know exactly what she was feeling, what she was thinking. They were more similar then in a lot of ways. But growing up inevitably meant growing apart, didn’t it? Not in a bad way. Growing apart, Nala felt, had been the best thing for herself. She wouldn’t know herself as well as she did now if she and Simba hadn’t been separated, and she knew that Simba would agree if she said that. Now she knew the colours that made Nala, Nala. She loved those colours.

Or she usually did. Until the last half of this year. Now, with every fresh round of tears, she felt like her colours were running into one massive gray puddle. Her years ran into that puddle. Her accomplishments, her failures. It all became one unrecognizable blur. She didn’t know where she fit into it.

Because of course it wasn’t just about sleeping with Henry. That was the symptom.

It wasn’t that she wanted to sleep with him again-- it was also a symptom. She wasn’t in love with the bloke. But she was only tempted like this, tempted and ashamed and hurt, because she was lonely.

Nala felt like she’d lived half her life lonely, half her life waiting. And no matter how much she accomplished, it was never enough.

Of course Simba didn’t get it. Simba found his home. Simba found the man he was meant to be with. Simba was even on track to do what he wanted to do.

What did Nala want? What did she really want?

She shook her head, all this gathering inside her. “No, it won’t. It won’t. I mean, you’re right, Simba, he’s temporary and an intern and it shouldn’t matter, but it does. To me, it does. I don’t do these things, you know that.” She looked up at him almost like she was pleading now, for him to confirm. To tell her, yes Nala, I know you, and you’re right, this isn’t you at all.

“I picked him up because that’s how lonely I am. I’m flirting with my intern during work hours because that’s how sad I am. And Yallah, he’ll leave, sure, but guess who will still be stuck here, miserable and lonely? It’s me. I just--”

She fell back onto the couch, exhausted, pressing her palm to her throbbing temple.

“I’m so. Tired. Simba. I’m so tired.”

A Calm Surrender || Simala

#simala #this made me CRY for my girl

simba-lyons‌:

Simba’s brow knit together as Nala shook in his arms, sobbing harder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her cry like this. ‘Course he’d seen it before but–not since university. Nala had never been a crier the way Simba was a crier. He had big crocodile tears for anything, at the drop of a hat. Ever since he’d been a baby, his mum would say, and realized that his tears would get him attention. Simba cried when he was happy, when he was sad, any time that emotion in his chest got too big for him to hold in.

He wanted to cry now, listening to Nala. His heart cried out, that emotion billowing inside of him until the wind from it stung at the backs of his eyes. He just swallowed and rubbed at Nala’s back.

Whatever it was, they would face it. Together. That was what Simba had promised her, after he’d returned. No matter what, it would be the two of them. The way it was supposed to be.

This promise made Simba sturdy and strong. He felt sure of himself, the way he knew Nala usually felt too. If he had to be the only one right now, that was okay. He would hold it. He would find a way.

When Nala shoved her phone at him, he blinked but he took it in one hand, keeping his arm around Nala’s shoulders. His brow knit together as he scrolled. There was nothing amiss from what he could tell.

“Er,” he said awkwardly, swallowing, “did you mean to show me texts from…Henry Charming?”

Maybe–she had clicked on the wrong name or something. He swiped back into the rest of her texts and looked through the first few. It was his name at the top (he assumed it usually was, Nala never left his top five for long.) There was Attina, Kiara, a few people from InterPride, the wedding party group chat (part of him kind of wanted to click that to be nosy–no, no, Simba, focus.)

“You gotta give me a little more than that,” he joked as he scrolled, “you know I can’t read.”

He pursed his lips slightly and then clicked on Henry’s name, scanning the texts again. He wouldn’t put it past himself to have missed something.

She couldn’t say it out loud.

Her hands were pressed over her mouth, elbows digging into her knees. Nala was trying to drudge up the words. She could feel them, a physical force like she’d swallowed heavy, misshapen rocks down into her gut. They rolled and clanked and went no where. She could just imagine Simba’s face. Just imagine it.

Actually--

What she was really thinking of was her father’s face, not Simba’s. Okoth. Nala’s hands slid from her mouth over her eyes as she hid there, shoulders hunching even more.

All her life, all she’d wanted was to make her baba proud.

It was because of her baba that she went to Oxford. Oxford was, of course, Oxford-- not a bad school at all, and she’d never complain. There had just never been another school for Nala to explore because she understood that she would go to Oxford, she would study business or economics, something that would position her well for InterPride. She stayed in more weekends than she went out, again for her baba and the degree she was building. She focused on work. When she was younger, she didn’t date because baba told her not to waste her time. In uni, she didn’t date because she knew her baba wouldn’t like any of those boys.

She would have married Simba-- maybe. If her father insisted.

She stayed in Swynlake, she took over InterPride, knowing that her baba would cry tears of joy for her. And she had been right; she did.

But now here she was with a stupid boy she liked that threatened to undo almost thirty years of her hard work. Baba wouldn’t approve of him, Baba would be shocked that Nala acted like she did that night in the club, that she was thinking about him, wanting him, despite the fact it could undo her. It was just a stupid boy, yes. But somehow, Henry Charming had become a symbol-- all those undreamed dreams.

Baba wasn’t here, yet his spectre lurked and that’s why she couldn’t say it. Not looking at Simba’s face anyway.

From behind her hands, Nala took a shuddering breath.

“I slept with him.”

Her hands came down, clasping in prayer, as her head fell. “Allah,” she breathed out the breath she’d taken. “It was-- it was before-- before his internship but-- it doesn’t matter because I didn’t tell HR. I didn’t tell anyone. And now every day he brings me coffee, Simba. Every day he comes in and he smiles at me and he compliments me and I have to hand him assignments while this secret grows bigger and bigger and... I can’t focus. I’m such an idiot, I’m too old for this.”

A Calm Surrender || Simala

#para #simala #ALDSKFJASL;DFJAS;DLFJAKSDJF #already in my feels

simba-lyons‌:

Simba knew something was up with Nala in the way you only could tell after knowing someone for thirty years. They saw each other periodically, at least once a week (Simba demanded it.) And she was his maid of honor, which meant, as the wedding approached, she was more and more involved with the planning, including attempting to organize where all the guests coming into town were going to stay.

Still, he knew something was wrong…or off.

He didn’t know what it was. He didn’t even know if Nala knew that something was wrong. It was just a feeling. Sometimes, he’d look over at her when she wasn’t paying attention and find that little pucker to her brow, or catch the reflection of something sad in her eyes. He didn’t say anything, because in the same way he could tell something was wrong, he could tell that if he asked, Nala wouldn’t tell him–or wouldn’t know what to say.

So, when the call came, Simba was ready. ‘Course, he’d be ready even if he wasn’t. Even if he hadn’t had a gut-intuition heads up, because when it came to Nala, Simba had made himself a promise years ago that he would drop everything and be by her side.

Bursting into her apartment, Simba let out a breath when he caught sight of Nala on the couch. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment, always floored when he found Nala upset like this.

“Don’t worry,” he announced, moving forward with a jerking movement, as if someone had pulled him by a string tied to his navel, “I stopped for ice cream!” He held up the bag, then swung into the kitchen for spoons before sitting down on the couch next to Nala.

He didn’t hesitate then, he tackled her into a hug, almost spilling some of her wine onto the floor. Simba squeezed her tight. “Is it Adam? I’ll fight the bastard. Was it me? I’ll fight myself. I swear I will.”

This problem couldn’t be fixed with ice cream.

Not many problems could, but for most of Nala’s life, ice cream had at least been part of the solution-- or it had felt that way, when she and Simba corralled together, huddling on the couch as they shoved food into their mouths. It had been that way since they were tiny, crying over their mums yelling at them for staying out too late or going off the trails of Enchantra-- crying about boys and girls they liked who didn’t like them back-- crying about bad grades on their tests or how homesick they got in London.

It didn’t matter the age. Nala was 6, 8, 10, 14, 18, but never too old for ice cream nipped from a petrol station.

Though it wasn’t the ice cream. No, she was never old enough for her best friend.

Today should be more of the same. When Simba burst in, Nala expected the catharsis to wash over her, all this pent-up regret and guilt and anger and sadness sighed out and then thrust at Simba to hold. Oh good, he’s here, she’d think. And she’d feel immediately better. She didn’t have to solve these problems alone.

That was true-- that she wasn’t alone-- but Simba collapsed on the couch and the catharsis didn’t come. Instead, her panic spiked, a fresh wave of tears choking her. She fell apart in his arms, turning her face into her hands.

Because it wasn’t anyone else this time, was it? It wasn’t their mums, it wasn’t a stupid boy (not really--), it wasn’t homesickness.

It was all Nala’s fault. There was no one for Simba to fight but her.

“No, no, it’s-- it’s--” she couldn’t say it. She shook her head over and over, pressing her hands into her eyes as the crying made her shoulders tremble, no matter how tightly.

And then because she couldn’t tell him, she thrust her phone into his hand, with Henry’s texts pulled up. Of course-- there was nothing in there that would suggest anything was going on. Mostly just back and forths about assignments. There was just that last emoji. That stupid emoji, and all that Nala wanted from it. All that she was missing.

A Calm Surrender || Simala

@simba-lyons

Nala was exhausted.

There were many reasons to be exhausted. Technically it was the middle of the financial year, in the thick of the various projects with InterPride both here in Swynlake and in London. Nala was used to that kind of work exhaustion though. She grew up expecting those long hours, honing her organization skills, her ability to sit through long meetings and take even longer phone calls. When Nala was simply busy at work, even if she was tired, she was still happy. It was, after all, what she was supposed to do-- the reason she was here.

But it wasn’t that good, satisfying work exhaustion anymore. Instead, Nala felt like she was running from a fire-- from multiple fires. She went home and was lonely, memories of Adam still everywhere no matter how much she sorted her apartment.

And then, she ran from that fire to work, and there another fire waited in the face of Henry Charming, though that fire didn’t burn as much as it shined. Like a moth to its flame, she danced closer and closer, the whole time hating herself.

She wanted him. She couldn’t want him. She wanted to love her work instead. She didn’t love her work.

She couldn’t get away. No matter where she turned. And the other fires at work, the ones she should be able to put out with her years of experience, the small ones that shouldn’t send her into a panic, were beginning to tire her more quickly. It’s burnout, she’d think as she rubbed her eyes and went through a new contract and then looked up from her desk to see another 100 emails waiting for her. Burnout, this is what it means to burnout.

She was burning out. She needed a vacation. She needed...

She needed Simba.

And so it was that all these various fires burned to one point. Nala wasn’t even sure what it was. Maybe it was one email too many popping up on her phone. Maybe it was the fact that she had to reschedule her call with the Brazil office for the fourth time.

Maybe it was the emoji that Henry Charming had texted her-- adding it onto his confirmation of his new assignment. Just a little :).

Nala had burst into tears in her apartment and called Simba in a panic.

Now she heard the pounding on the door. “It’s open,” Nala called in a warbling voice as she poured herself an entire glass of wine, face smeared with tears.

#para #simala #MY BABIES #my CHILDSKFJ DAUGHTER

What Do Good Choices Look Like? Asking For A Friend. | Henrala

henrycharming‌:

@nala-calame

Granted, it had only been a few days since Henry started at InterPride, but he had decided he would need to thank his father. The company was a good one–very well organized with a great mission and wonderful people–and Henry was proud to say he was a part of it. That wasn’t the only reason he liked it, however, although his other reasons were perhaps bad ones.

Actually, there was really only one other reason he liked it so much and that reason was Nala. His boss. He saw her every morning when he first arrived and every evening before he left. “Good morning, Ms. Calame, here his your coffee.” And, “Have a wonderful evening, Ms. Calame, I will be sure to finish those reports.” Her named rolled beautifully off his tongue, and he knew he wasn’t supposed to, but sometimes his face would turn just a bit pink as he remembered how she tasted on his lips.

That, of course, was never going to happen again. She’d made herself quite clear when they’d realized they’d be working together and Henry didn’t blame her. They were actually very good at being professional.

Last night, however, Henry had a dream. In that dream, he’d been screaming for a boy who no longer existed–a boy he shouldn’t want–a boy who hurt him and left him ragged and broken. He’d had that dream before and he always woke up with wet cheeks and somehow more tired than he’d been before he’d slept at all. This time it was different, though, because someone else was there. Someone with beautiful skin and a lovely smile who smelled like vanilla and tasted like sugar-kissed strawberries and this time he’d woken up rested. He’d woken up thinking of Nala.

Henry knew this couldn’t end well. He knew it was foolish and wrong and maybe he didn’t even really want it, but that didn’t change how he felt in the moment. It didn’t change how much he wanted to smile when he was near her or how badly he wanted to hold her in his arms one more time and taste her on his tongue and so, when he’d picked up his coffee this morning, he’d gotten one for her too.

Normally she only requested coffee once the morning had gone on a bit and when she did it was just a cup from the breakroom, but he’d seen her occasionally bring coffee into the office and he’d paid attention to the writing on the cup. He knew what she liked and that’s what he brought this morning. Soy hazelnut latte in hand, he tapped politely on her office door before entering with a smile. “Good morning, Ms. Calame. I trust you had a good night.” He looked at her, his eyes sparkling, before setting the coffee on her desk.

Nala had had a sex dream about Henry Charming last night.

She’d actually had several since this whole fiasco had started, as though Allah was determined to punish her for this mistake in the first place-- though she wasn’t certain of the exact sin. Was it drinking too much? Was it the one-night stand of it all? Was it because she liked it so much? When Nala started wondering all these questions, she realized about half-way down that Allah would not bother with her sex life and then she put her head down on her desk and strangled the scream building from deep inside her gut.

And then she blamed Adam. That felt better, and got her through that day, until it was time to sleep, when she would close her eyes and Henry’s hands on her hips reentered her mind.

But Nala was a grown woman, thank you very much. She kept the dreams to herself. She left them at home. When she got into InterPride, she was still the COO, and she’d not let herself--or Henry Charming--forget it.

He was a good worker anyway, very polite and, haha, charming-- an instant hit with the other supervisors who told her he asked thoughtful questions and was detail-oriented.

So detail-oriented, in fact, that he knew her coffee order without ever being told.

Nala blinked at the cup appearing on her desk, and then her gaze flicked up to Henry, with that stupid handsome smile. That look struck her in the chest and heat crawled up Nala’s neck as she thought impulsively, He knows my coffee order.

Like she was a dumb lovesick teenager. Yallah! What was wrong with her! Snap out of it!

“I-- what’s this? I didn’t ask...you didn’t have to get me--” she stuttered, all her careful professional composure flustered. “I mean. Thank you. Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.” Too thoughtful? What if he was flirting? No-- no, he wouldn’t, they’d said they weren’t going to, he wouldn’t, she was reading into it, she was being ridiculous!

She cleared her throat. “Have you, um, did you-- finish reconciling the marketing budget? Do you have enough to work on today?”

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henrycharming‌:

If Henry thought he was having a nervous breakdown about sleeping with his boss on the first day of work, Nala was definitely going insane. He could see it on her face and the way she rubbed her temples. She was not having a good time. He was not having a good time.

The worst part of the whole thing was the loss of someone he would probably have wanted to call again. That was definitely worse than almost being late for his first day at an internship he didn’t even really want that badly.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a smile. The longer this went on, the funnier it became. Or maybe he was just going sort of crazy. It would make sense. He’d been going through a stressful time. Perhaps his mind was finally at it’s breaking point. “I’ll go in first so I don’t look like the bloke who couldn’t be bothered to show up on time for his first day. That’s a good idea.”

Henry reached for the door before looking back one more time. “I do look forward to working with you, ma’am,” he added sincerely. “I’ve heard great things.”

Now he was off to find his way around this huge building he’d never been in before, all while wondering how long she was going to wait outside before following him in. What if they ended up in the elevator together or something?

I do look forward to working with you, ma’am. I’ve heard great things.

The pathetic thing was she had too-- she really had to, and now she’d ruined it.

Because now she was disappointed.

For a split second, Nala didn’t know if that disappointment would have been there with InterPride or not. She couldn’t remember this morning without InterPride already looming. If it hadn’t-- would she have woken up slowly, comfortable with the beautiful boy next to here, happy for the company? Would they have had toast and coffee? Shared the morning paper? Would Nala have given her his number? Would he have asked?

Realistically, the answer to these questions would all be no, because it was a one-night stand and Nala’s heart was still broken. Even if it was yes, he’d only ever be a rebound to her.

But she didn’t even get to ask the questions. To say no or yes, to date him a few times, for it to fizzle.

So now she wanted him but she couldn’t decide-- was it genuine, or just because she shouldn’t?

So Nala watched him go. Her jaw clenched and the guilt got heavier and heavier, and there was nothing she could do now-- nothing but carry this feeling with her and leave her regrets, her wants, her loneliness, behind.

After a minute, Nala took a deep breath, and she did just that. The door slid closed quietly behind her.

#henrala #para

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#this continues to be hilarious #para #henrala

henrycharming‌:

Henry’s eyes shot open wide when Nala grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backwards away from the door. (If he weren’t so embarrassed and ashamed he might’ve liked it.) Then she was yelling at him. Well, not really. She was hissing at him in a low voice but it had the energy of a loud scolding and Henry’s face blanched.

Nala was scary when she was…embarrassed?

“Oi,” he said, rubbing at his throat where his shirt had pressed into his skin. “Like I’d want to tell everyone I slept with my boss.” He was hissing, low and embarrassed too. If anyone ever found out about this he’d be laughed at. His father would accuse him of messing everything up for a girl which was ‘Just like you, Henry. Can’t you ever just be professional, Henry? I’d swear I had a daughter.”

That last one was very sexist and Henry hadn’t hesitated to point it out on several occasions which always ended with him being accused of being a ‘damn millennial with nothing better to do than be offended.’

“I’d like people to think I got here because of my daddy’s money, thank you very much. Not because I’m a great lay.”

Okay, judging by the look he got from her, maybe the joke was a little too soon and things were a little too heated, but he couldn’t help himself.

Yes, Nala was not amused by the joke. Was that a joke? Was this really worth joking about, especially right now, when both of them were going to be late?! Well, Henry would be late, Nala was going to go first--

But then, maybe she should let Henry go first. Good impression and all that because he had much more to lose as just one of the interns in the program. And she could follow after in a very atypical Nala fashion, making her apologies to her group of fresh interns...

See? SEE?! This was exactly why you didn’t sleep with the interns! The power imbalance made even the simplest things as walking into an office difficult and problematic.

Nala. Was problematic. Nala. She was going to cancel herself.

She couldn’t even joke to him about firing him on the spot because IT WAS PROBLEMATIC even though she was offended on MULTIPLE LEVELS.

(Had he been a great lay? Yes. Did she like being reminded of that, knowing she could never booty call him again? No.)

“First of all, your daddy’s money didn’t buy you into this internship program, you dolt. He got you an interview and that’s about it, so I don’t appreciate the implication of nepotism. Second of all, if you ever say the words ‘great lay’ to me again, I-- just-- don’t do it.” She sighed out and rubbed her forehead. “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe... okay. Okay, this is fine. Technically, we slept together before the internship program started so no one broke any rules. You’ll go in first. You shouldn’t be late.” She waved a hand at him.

eyeblogaboutnothin

Lupita Nyong’o for British Vogue

#well damn #queen

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henrycharming‌:

Henry’s stomach gave a little twist when she mentioned InterPride, since this was clearly where she was heading as well. The reason for that was because his luck had been so shit lately that he knew in his bones that she was probably someone very import–

Henry looked at her again and he barely stopped his eyes from going wide. Nala Calame. Holy shit, he’d just slept with Nala Calame, the COO of InterPride.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck–

“Yeah,” Henry managed to say and he smiled at her as casually as he could. What if she thought he’d done this on purpose? What if she fired him on his first day? His father would disown him, he was sure of it–accuse him of trying to sleep his way to the top for the easy way out.

“I’m starting my internship.” It was probably better to acknowledge it…right?

They reached the doors together and Henry held it open for her, following her inside. He leaned toward her just a little, his face on fire. “I would just like to say I am so very sorry, Ms. Calame. I wish I would’ve recognized you sooner.”

He was starting his internship.

He was. Starting his internship.

Nala stopped where she was as if her heels had just stabbed themselves into wet concrete. Her mouth fell open as she looked at him, this man, this boy, who she had thought she knew but couldn’t remember the name of, and why, and who, and--

It was Henry Charming.

Henry Charming. Yallah! He was several years younger than her, had spent most of his time with Bradley and thus a much different crowd than Nala. Not to mention Nala went to school in London, then Oxford, so they’d never really talked exactly, but still, but still! How could she have not recognized him, how could she have forgotten?! How could she have not realized last night, even with the booze and the lights and Nala’s heartache?

It was the heartache’s fault.

It was Adam’s fault! Oh, screw Adam! Screw Adam for leaving her and making her into the sort of mess who went out and slept with her intern!

(Technically, he’s not my intern yet. When he walks in that door...)

Nala grabbed Henry by the collar and dragged him away from the door.

“You! You just--” she blushed, her entire face hot. “Wait here for five minutes, alright? We are not entering that building together. This never happened, you hear me?! If you mention this to anyone, so help me--!”

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henrycharming‌:

Henry was startled out of his sleep, his eyelids heavy as he tried to survey his surroundings. He was definitely not at home, and even though he hadn’t been that drunk last night, it still took him a moment to remember where he was. When he saw the woman pulling her shirt over her head and rambling about work, his eyes instantly flashed over to the clock on the dresser.

“Oh, shit!” Henry said, scrambling out of the bed and pulling his pants back on. “I’m late too. Oh, god, my father is going to kill me if I mess this up on the first day.”

See, Henry’s father had pulled him into his office, sat him down, and explained to him that he needed to do something more productive with his life than just school. Henry had argued, of course, but it was a losing battle and he knew it. With Bradley gone, Henry’s fighting spirit had been lacking and the idea of something else to fill his time had been a bit tempting anyway. Anything to keep his mind busy.

So that’s how he’d landed an internship at InterPride and today was his first day. He was supposed to meet his mentor in–he looked at the clock again–ten minutes! Fuck, he was going to be so late!

“I–” Henry started, feeling more than a little awkward. “Thank you for a wonderful time?” He said, buttoning up his last button and smiling awkwardly. “It looks like we are both in a bit of a hurry or else I’d suggest breakfast.”

With that, he rushed out the door right beside her and followed her out onto the sidewalk. When he took in his surroundings he was glad to notice just how close this woman lived to exactly where he was going and he took off walking in that direction.

So did she.

It was a good thing he didn’t suggest breakfast.

Which wasn’t to say she was against it. Some toast or cereal, some coffee, she would provide these things normally to her guest because while he might be a one-night stand who Nala had no intention of seeing ever again, she wasn’t rude. He was very nice to boot-- polite and generous and kind. Having coffee with him wouldn’t be the end of Nala’s world. Not like losing Adam.

But she didn’t necessarily want to have coffee, or toast, or cereal. She cursed herself for having fallen asleep so quickly last night, overstimulated from all the dancing and drinking and... well.

So this was a blessing. Being late was a blessing.

That’s what she told herself anyway.

They rushed to throw themselves together, Nala locking her flat behind her as they both started out, too hurried to make small talk. Only when they began to walk toward InterPride together did Nala blink and realize that...they might need to. She glanced toward him and managed a smile through her fluster and mild hangover. As she did, the itch returned from last night. That...deja vu. She’d definitely seen his face before, now that she saw it sober and in the morning light.

She knew him. Somehow. Bloody hell what was his name?

“Well, it looks like we’re in one of those awkward situations where you say good-bye and then start walking in the same direction,” Nala joked to try to break the tension. “Where’s it again you said you worked? It’s your first day?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh wait, are you-- are you starting at InterPride?”

Blimey. Who was starting at InterPride today?! Wasn’t it just the internship program...had Nala approved of a hire she had since forgotten? Many of those sorts of forms fell on her desk every day, she supposed.

Unless.

Unless he...

InterPride loomed again. It was becoming more and more clear that that was exactly where he was going.

Quick Fix | Henrala

henrycharming‌:

The woman kissed Henry back. She touched him and her small, soft hands pulled at his shirt and gripped his neck. They were so different from Bradley’s hands that always pulled at him and tried to take everything he had to give while giving nothing in return. This woman was willing to meet him halfway. She was what he wanted.

The kiss broke and her warm breath soaked into Henry’s skin. He shivered, wondering what her place would be like. Would it be small and dark? Would it be spacious and well lit? Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be Uppercrust Manor and for that Henry was forever grateful.

“Lead the way,” Henry said, his lips trailing over the skin of her exposed shoulder. And when she complied, he followed her. The night air hit him like a cool glass of water and he was even more certain he wanted this. The moon shone, sinking into her smooth skin and making her seem illuminated from the inside out and she was so beautiful.

So beautiful for tonight.

He would be good to her. He would please her however he could and he would feel a little bit better about himself at the end of the night.

As it turned out, Henry didn’t have time to take in his surroundings as they stumbled through her front door, tasting, nibbling, scratching at each other every chance they got. Her back hit a wall and Henry’s body was pressed right up against her’s. “Bedroom,” he managed before he was pulling his own shirt over his head.

Tonight Henry was going to forget.

When was the last time Nala had a one-night stand?

Years ago. Her uni days. It hadn’t been for her, which she realized the morning after. Not that she’d stayed the night-- she hadn’t. She’d left the bloke’s room just fifteen minutes after the whole thing, took a shower, fell asleep, woke up a bit hungover and feeling...not like herself.

She could count, then, on one hand her sexual partners.

But right now, she wanted to erase Adam from that list.

And so here she was. And here were this stranger’s hands, grabbing and groping, but still gentle-- attentive. And here was the stranger’s mouth, sharp-tasting with liquor.

Here was Nala not acting like Nala at all, and she was glad.

They stumbled into her room, and she shut the door firmly behind her

...

The next morning, Nala woke up herself again.

She woke up with a man in her bed.

It took her a moment to piece everything back together again. Last night blurred for her, mostly colour and flavour and feeling. Not that she’d been that drunk-- it wasn’t the alcohol that made her fuzzy, but her out-of-body sadness, which was what the drinks and the dance and the sex had been for. It worked, until right now, when Nala glanced over to the slender back of the stranger in her bed. Her eyes grew soft. She wanted to touch his shoulder. She knew she shouldn’t. She wanted the shoulder to be Adam’s.

Then, over his shoulder, she saw the time.

“Shit!” Nala cursed and instantly jumped out of bed. She was loud enough to instantly startle the man in her bed.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry, go back to...I have to go to work,” she said as she rummaged through her dresser, pulling out one of her blouses and slipping it over her bra. “But it’s no problem if you want to sleep a little longer, I’m so sorry--”