#That was summer of 2019. My first time realizing my parents weren’t both in love happened when I was 13-14.

[astral-catastrophe]

me and the generic extra strong Tylenol and the pure rage in my system

[troubatrain]

i’d lie - m. tkachuk

a/n: this was the very first like super long fic i’d written for my own blog and tbh i still love it so i hope you guys do too :)

September 2019

The first time you met Matthew Tkachuk, you were running back to your apartment, mountain of textbooks in your hand. You’d run into a firm chest while trying to text your roommates back about dinner plans, your books knocking all over the floor. You apologized profusely, feeling awful for running into someone because you couldn’t get your head out of your phone. The stranger, who later introduced himself as Matthew, assured you it was fine and helped you pick up your books. You introduced yourself to him, thanking him for the help and making a light joke about how you weren’t paying attention. The two of you went your separate ways, but your mind wandered about the blue eyed stranger you’d run into that day.

The second time was definitely just a coincidence, and you were sure of that. You were grabbing a quick coffee before class, something you were in dire need of after your roommates came home well past midnight from a night out while you decided to stay in and study. You were waiting for your drink when you heard your name called from behind you. You turn around and meet Matthew’s eyes, laughing about how’d you run into each other just a couple of days later. The two of you made small talk, you explaining that you were just headed to class and him explaining he was grabbing an after practice coffee. When you asked him what sport he played, he looked at you in shock and laughed, explaining that he played for the Flames, you reluctantly admitted that you didn’t follow hockey much anymore, being just too busy. Your conversation ended quickly when you realized you had to run to class, telling Matthew you’d see him around even though you were sure you probably never would.

The third time was starting to feel like the universe was telling you something. You’d gone out with your roommates, celebrating a successful end to the fall semester. You were going to grab another drink when you felt someone grab your arm, when you turned around, ready to tell this guy to lay off, you’re met with a familiar pair of blue eyes. Matthew cracked a joke about how you’d seen him more times in the past week or so than his family and offered to buy you a drink. You took it, standing at the bar and talking to him for the rest of the night. You talked about school, your major, and your roommates. He told you about playing for the Flames, and how much he loved being in Calgary. When his teammates walked over to the two of you, chirping Matthew about talking to you, and when you roasted his teammate right back, Matthew told you that he was positive he was going to have a new best friend.

Matthew wasn’t kidding, finally getting your number at the bar that night and never leaving you since. It was slow, he started by inviting you out with his teammates after games, the boys becoming a permanent part of your life. Then you went to your first Flames game, in which Matthew scored twice and made you promise to never miss a home game after. After that, you were complaining about how loud your roommates could be when you really needed to get some work done, so Matthew gave you a key to his place so you could go there even if he was away. Matthew would send take out to your apartment if you’d had a particularly bad day or you would go over to his and cook for the both of you. He’d been there to help you study for finals, even though he didn’t have a clue about what you were talking about. You’d been there when the Flames got knocked out of the first round of the playoffs, holding Matthew while he ranted and raved about the game and how badly he wished they’d won. You went out to dinner with his parents when they came to town, you’d even made a trip to St. Louis over the summer. From an outsider’s perspective, and from the perspective of every person in your life, it seemed like you two were dating, but you felt like that ship had sailed and if it was going to happen it would’ve already.

You shake the memories of your friendship with Matthew out of your head as you turn the key to his apartment, sneaking in with the obnoxious decorations you’d bought. Yesterday, Matthew called you to let you know his contract was almost done and that he’d be back to Calgary for training camp the next day. You were excited, the contract debacle taking up more stress in your life than you’d liked. You’d sent the stuff down on his kitchen island, tying the red balloons you’d bought to one of the chairs and setting out the cake you’d bought that just says, “Congrats on getting PAID.” You hear the door creak open, and Matthew set his bag down by the door.

“Oh this is something,” Matthew chuckles, laughing at the small celebration you’d put together.

“Thought I’d welcome you back,” You laugh as he runs over to pull you into a hug.

“I really don’t deserve you,” He says, “Is that cake?”

“It is,” You smile, walking into the kitchen and pulling the groceries you’d bought to cook the both of you some dinner, “and dinner.”

“I really really don’t deserve you,” Matthew repeats, always appreciative of things you did to take care of him. Not that you minded it at all, the access to the quiet of Matthew’s apartment was enough to justify a few dinners, let alone when the two of you went out and Matthew insisted on paying the bill. While you never felt like you owed him anything, it definitely made you feel less guilty when you were doing something for him - even if it is just stopping him from eating out every night.

“You don’t, I know,” You joke, hip bumping him out of your way so you could grab a cutting board from his cabinet.

Matthew was over to the seats on the island, sitting in the one you’d decorated, “You’re going to be at our first home game right?”

“Of course, I planned my entire day around it,” You admit, knowing you’d made a silly promise to Matthew that you’d never miss a home game, “Why? Worried you’re going to bomb without me there?”

“I mean, yeah. I just-” Matthew starts, sighing, “After waiting for this deal and stuff I don’t want anyone to think it was a mistake.”

You didn’t realize your joke had actually struck a nerve. When you first became friends you didn’t think Matthew doubted his play or himself ever. He had a blind confidence, and he never let a mistake take over his whole game. It was something you actually admired, wondering if you could ever be that confident in yourself. But, when the Flames lost in the first round of the playoffs, and you’d gone to his place after the game, Matthew turned into a sad shell of a man in front of your eyes. That night you realized how much actually got to him, and while he listed off the mistakes he made in the series you’re heart broke with every word he said. The Canadian media wasn’t always easy, and it really bothered Matthew more than you think he even knew.

You turn around from the stove, “There’s not one person who doesn’t think you deserve your contract, and if they don’t I’ll personally tell them to fuck off.”

Matthew laughs, and your heart skips a beat, “I think I can do without you trying to fight anyone.” “Why? I’m absolutely terrifying,” You joke, your small frame wasn’t scary at all, but you weren’t about to let that stop you.

“You know what? You’re right,” Matthew says sarcastically.

“In all seriousness,” You start walking around the island to wrap your arms around Matthew’s shoulders, “I’ll always be proud of you.” Matthew tucks his head into your arms muttering a low thank you. The two of you spent the night together, catching up on your summers over the dinner you made. He told you about the trips he’d gone on, and his summer antics. You’d gone on about the vacation’s you’d gone on, and the time you spent with your family.

October 2019

You walked arm and arm with Brittney, Sean’s girlfriend, into the Saddledome for the Flames home opener. It was Saturday night, and you knew with the Kings coming to town on Tuesday the boys would definitely be celebrating their first win of the season if they came out on top tonight. You were excited, hoping they’d be able turn it around before it became a losing streak. You head up to your usual seats, walking into the family boxes with Brittany, all of the team’s significant others and families out for the first home game of the season. After finally grabbing a drink and sitting down you look down at the nice, spotting Matthew’s mop of hair buzzing around the ice.

“So anything change over the summer?” Brittany asks when she sees you looking at Matthew on the ice, a curious look on her face.

“Still best friends,” You say, shaking your head at her comment. You’d heard it a million times, about how Matthew needed to have you at his games, sitting with the rest of the team’s families or how you were always at his place or vice-versa but you assured everyone who asked that you were just friends - because you were.

“Okay but you can be best friends and date, you guys know that right?” Brittany says, trying to make you see it from her point of view.

“Britt, I really mean it, we’re just friends,” You shrug, not really in the mood to continue defending yourself. You ignore the knowing look she gives you, already knowing that her usual comeback would be asking you why you’re getting so defensive.

By the time the third period rolled around, the Flames were up 3-0 and you were sure this was going to end as a win. When the period was finally over, you headed down to the locker with Brittany to wait for Matthew to head out. 

He barreled out of the locker room, scanning the room to find you, running over and hugging you tightly, “We wonnn.”

You knew he was running on an adrenaline rush that he only ever got out of winning, “You did, are we going out tonight?”

“We are Y/N, Chucky can stay home,” You hear Sam Bennett’s voice behind you.

“Sam, what makes you assume I want to spend time with you?” You quip back before Matthew even has a chance to defend himself.

“You guys are really meant to be, you’re both cold as hell,” Sam says, shaking his head at the two of you.

You ignore Sam’s comment, turning to Matthew, “Ready to go?”

Matthew nods, leading the way to his car in the parking garage at the arena. You both slide in, you immediately grab his phone to change the music.

“You know it’s my car,” He says, already knowing you controlled the music in every car ride you took, despite who was driving.

“You know I don’t care,” You say back immediately, “Do you want to drop off your car?”

“No, you drink, I’ll just have a beer,” Matthew says, never wanting to let himself get too drunk if you were going to, afraid something might happen to you.

“But you guys won-” You start to protest only to be immediately cut off.

“But you had class all week, and don’t think I didn’t hear you stress crying after I went to bed the other night,” Matthew says, immediately shutting you up. You had a long week, and the idea of getting to go out with the safety net of Matthew taking care of you didn’t sound terrible.

“Fine, you win,” You say as you pull up to the bar you were meeting the rest of the team at. You walked in, immediately spotting Brittany and Sean from afar, walking over them wrapping Brittany in a hug.

“I’m really happy you guys are all back in town,” You say, still a little tipsy from the drinking you’d done at the game.

“Happy to see all of us, or just Chucky,” Sean says, giving you a look.

“Enough with that,” You snap, already having heard it from his girlfriend.

“Enough with what?” Matthew says, stepping behind you placing a drink in your hand.

“Nothing, Sean’s being a moron,” You say, leaning into his chest when he places a protective arm across your chest.

The rest of the night was an eventful one to say the least. You’d danced with the girls, Sam made you take more shots than a person should, and it was safe to say you were drunk to say the least. You finally walk back over to the table that Matthew was sitting at, talking to Noah.

“Matty, can you grab me another drink?” You ask, trying to convince him so you didn’t have to. You knew it wouldn’t take much and he nods and takes your empty glass without a second thought. 

Once Matthew was out of earshot, Noah turns to you, “You’ve really got him wrapped your finger.”

“Noah -” You start to defend yourself again.

“Don’t Noah me,” Noah immediately cuts you off, “Admit it, you have to see what everyone else sees.”

“You know what? I do and yes, it confuses the shit out of me but Noah, I like Matthew, a lot, but I don’t think he feels the same way about me,” Your drunken confession slips, your hand immediately covering your mouth that you actually admitted it.

Noah looks at you, eyes wide in surprise, “Oh my god, I was right?”

You start to give him a lecture about prying into your business before he cuts you off, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You smile, “Thanks Noah.”

Matthew comes back and hands you a water despite you asking him for another drink, you roll your eyes, knowing he’s just decided to cut you off before you got messy.

“Ready to go?” You ask, sipping the water.

“Whenever you are, are you going home or staying by me?” Matthew asks and you notice Noah shaking his head at the two of you.

“Home, I need to spend my Sunday studying,” You say, leaning back into Matthew from the barstool you were sitting on.

Matthew nods, grabbing your hand and walking you back out to his car, opening the door for you to slide in. The drive back to your place was short, and you wished it was longer, admiring how the streetlights made Matthew look incredibly handsome. You knew the small crush that you’d been haboring since you met him only made it’s special guest appearance after you’d been drinking, and you were going to let it take over even just for the night. When Matthew stops in front of your building, he tosses his car into park so he can walk you to your door, even though you always insist nothing awful will probably happen to you between then and the minute elevator ride up to your floor. 

When you step in front of your door you wrap your arms around Matthew’s waist, tucking your head into his chest, “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

You feel him place a small kiss on your head, something he did often, “Anytime, get some sleep okay?”

You nod, “Text me when you’re home Matthew,” You say, using his full name to make yourself sound more serious. He laughs and heads back to the elevator while you walk into your apartment, walking into your bedroom and slipping one of Matthew’s old London Knights shirts on, passing out immediately.

November 2019

With November came an enormous amount of stress, the Flames weren’t playing up to their usual standards, losing five games on the road. Matthew was grouchy to say the least, you were always trying to cheer him up but there was only so much you could do while he was gone. You weren’t in the best mood either, the stress from school starting to build up. You’d spent more nights crying from stress in the comfort of Matthew’s empty apartment more than you’d admit to anyone, never quite feeling like you could catch up with all of your work. Which is why you were sitting on Matthew’s couch, head in your hands while you tried to finish the paper you had due at midnight when you hear him finally come home from his road trip, dropping his bag at the door with a bang, causing you to jump.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” Matthew says, in a harsher tone he usually used. You could tell the losing streak was starting to get to him, his shoulders were tight, and the bags under his eyes were prominent.

“Do you not want me to be?” You say, while Matthew never complained when you were at his place, you did understand if he wanted to be alone.

“No you’re fine,” He says, “Are you going to come to my game tomorrow?” Your heart sunk, you wanted to, but you couldn’t justify spending a night at the Saddledome watching him play when you had so much work to finish before the chaos of finals started. You look at his sad eyes, afraid you might upset him if you said no.

“Matty, I have so much work I have to do, I don’t think I can,” You say, closing your eyes as if that would lessen the blow, you open one, seeing Matthew’s face crushed in front of you.

“It’s fine,” He says, the words not sounding like anything was okay at all, “We’ll just lose - again.”

“Don’t put that on me,” You defend, not wanting to feel guiltier than you are, “You miss shit in my life all the time because you’re gone.”

You regretted the words as soon as you said it. It didn’t matter if Matthew was there or not, anything important in your life, he made sure you knew he was proud of you. If it wasn’t a flood of texts, it was a bouquet of flowers to your door. He made sure you never felt like he forgot about you while he was gone, and you knew you were just acting out.

You hear Matthew sigh, a sign he was trying to keep his temper in check, “Maybe you should just go.” “I will,” You say, gathering your things and heading towards the door, turning back to him one more time, “For the record, you’ll be fine whether or not I’m there or not.”

--

You didn’t sleep that night - at all. Your mind replayed that stupid little argument you had gotten into with Matthew. You’d never actually fought with him, sure you bickered, but as soon as you’d call him out on his shit, he would let it go and that would be it. He looked so hurt by your words, and you knew you owed him an apology. You tried calling, texting, you even sent him an email, but he was ignoring you and you knew it. 

You lay on your bed, typing a paper for one of your classes while watching the Flames game, the Flames down against the Avs 3-2. You watched as Matthew got sent to the box, for the third time that evening, finally breaking his stick when he sat down. You knew he was frustrated, and you couldn’t help but feel like you might have had something to do with it. You turn the game off with five minutes left, not wanting to see Matthew’s face after they lost their sixth game in a row. You finally finish your paper, setting your laptop down and getting ready for bed. You slip into bed, ready to finally try and get some sleep when you hear Matthew’s voice from your living room, your roommate telling him that you were in bed. 

He opens your bedroom door, poking his head through, “Can I come in?”

You nod, watching as he steps into your room, still in his gameday suit. He lays down, immediately putting his head into your lap, while your hands move to play with his curls.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, not wanting to break the silence in your room.

“You don’t need to be,” He says, “You were right - you always are.”

“Not always,” You smile, watching as his eyes close under your touch, “Do you want to stay here? We can watch a movie - whatever you want.” Matthew smiles and you knew you’d said the right thing, knowing that after a bad game it’s better to distract him until he finally opens up, “Can I have sweats?”

“Open my top drawer,” You say, “It’s mostly your clothes anyways.”

Matthew laughs, opening the dresser and realizing how many pairs of sweatpants and hoodies you’d actually stolen from him. It wasn’t your fault he has the comfiest hoodies known to man, and that he always offered them to you when it got cold. He steps into your bathroom to change, coming back out and climbing into your bed, pulling you closer to him so you could snuggle into his chest, grabbing your remote and throwing on a movie on Netlifx.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but somewhere halfway through the movie you finally knocked out for the first time in two days, wrapped up in Matthew’s arms. The two of you blocking out the noise from the outside world.

December 2019

With December comes the craziness of finals, but you weren’t about to let it stop you from celebrating Matthew’s birthday in the most ridiculous way you could think of. You’d set up a full on surprise party, using Noah as your partner in crime. The Flames were lucky enough to have a Sunday off, allowing you to have Noah keep Matthew out of his apartment all day so you could decorate. You went all out with decorations and invited everyone you knew was important to him - even having some of his friends from St. Louis fly up for the occasion. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing all of this for someone you’re not even dating,” You hear Brittany say, handing you the other half of the Happy Birthday banner you’d bought. 

“He literally flew me out to St. Louis over the summer for my birthday,” You say, “I think the least I could do is throw a party.”

Brittany shakes her head at you, distracted by Sean carrying in drinks before she could make a comment about how you spent your birthday with Matthew and his family. You greeted all of the guests as they arrived, waiting for Noah’s text that him and Matthew were on their way. Once you got the text, you had everyone hide out, shutting off all of the lights. You hear them come up the hallway, opening the door to Matthew’s place. You all jump out and yell surprise, promptly scaring the birthday boy. He smiles at you, knowing you were the only person who wanted to make a big deal out his birthday in the first place.

“Thank you,” He says, stepping over to you after he greets everyone at the party.

“How did you know it was me?” You joke, “It could’ve been Sam.”

“Because when I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday, you proceeded to tell me that’s fine,” Matthew says, “and I know you were lying.”

You laugh, he was always able to tell whether or not you were lying from your body language alone. It made it easier to just tell him how you were feeling, even if you didn’t want to.

The party was dwindling down by the time you saw Matthew again, his body swaying indicating that he was definitely drunk. You laugh, getting the last groups of guests to head out so you could clean up and get Matthew to bed.

Once you shut the door, pushing Sam and Noah out while they made jokes about you and Matthew walking down the hallway, you turn around to see Matthew grabbing himself a water.

“Alright birthday boy, let’s get you to bed,” you say, trying to move his much larger frame into his bedroom. You’d only ever had to do it once before, a night out after the Flames clinched their playoff spot last season that ended in Matthew puking outside of the bar, and you were sore from trying to haul him to bed.

“Will you stay?” He says when you finally get him to sit on his bed.

“I mean, I planned on it,” you say, gesturing to your bag that was in it’s usual spot in his guest room.

“No in here,” He argues back, crossing his arms like a child. You knew you shouldn’t give in, and you knew climbing into bed with him was only going to make that small crush worse, the crush already growing from the last time you’d slept in the same bed as him. 

You sigh, walking over to his dresser to grab him some clothes, tossing them over to him, “I’m just going to go change.”

You walk across the hall to his guest room, slipping out of the jeans you’d been wearing and throwing on a pair of shorts and one of Matthew’s t-shirts. You tossed your hair in a bun, opening the door to Matthew’s room, seeing him in bed waiting for you. You smile, sliding into bed and cuddling yourself into Matthew’s chest as soon as you laid down.

“Thank you for the party,” Matthew whispers, hands twirling the ends of your hair.

“I told you, it wasn’t me,” You joke, finally letting sleep take over you.

January 2020

When Matthew got voted into the All Star Game, you made sure to tell him an obnoxious amount of time. You also insisted on blaring “All Star” by Smash Mouth in his apartment for an entire week before he told you he was going to take his spare key back if you didn’t stop. What you didn’t expect, was for him to insist you at least came for the actual weekend of the game. But once you found out that Brady was also playing in the game, you decided you should probably make the trip down.

You arrived Friday morning, Matthew making some time in the craziness of the weekend to pick you up from the airport, having you stay with him at his parent’s house. You arrive in the mass chaos of the Tkachuk household, his mom scrambling to get everything ready for the party they planned on having after the game on Saturday. You set your bag down, immediately running into the kitchen to see Brady and Taryn.

“Matt, you can leave now,” Brady says, wrapping you in a tight hug, “We’d much rather have Y/N here.” You laugh, missing the dynamic of seeing Matthew around his family. He was always more relaxed when he was with his family, even though he’d never admit that he actually did miss them during the season.

“Brady she’s my best friend,” Matthew says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his chest.

“To be fair, I like Taryn more than both of you,” You mutter between the bickering boys.

You spend your Friday running around with Matthew’s mom, helping her with the party as much as you could. You enjoyed your time with her, knowing that it made Matthew happy to see how much his parents like having you around. Friday and Saturday seem like a blur, the craziness of the All Star Game taking over. You spent most of the time with Taryn and the rest of Matthew’s family that came to town, many of whom you’d met the last time the Sens came into town. You finally arrive back at the Tkachuk’s Matthew riding the high from winning the actual game.

Once the party was in full swing you were dragged around the house by Matthew, introducing you to players he’s played with in the past. You had a long conversation with Mitch Marner, who you found out Matthew actually played with when he played for the London Knights. You spent the night of some of the best athletes in the world and you couldn’t help but wonder why Matthew kept you around when he kept company like his friends who played around the league.

You step in Matthew’s bedroom, trying to take a moment for yourself. You look in the mirror, and sigh, just not sure of why you were there in the first place. It didn’t happen much anymore, but every once in a while the thoughts of not being good enough found themselves creeping in your mind. You couldn’t help it, as your hands started to shake, you heard the door open and Matthew step into his room.

“You alright?” He asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Why are you friends with me?” You ask harshly.

“What’s this about Y/N?” He asks, confused at your tone.

“I mean, you just, all of the people in your life are these accomplished athletes and are insanely good at what they do, and for some reason you choose to spend all of your time with someone who cries every time they get too stressed out,” You rant out, worried about how Matthew would react to what you were saying. You’d never let him in on this part of you, the part that’s doubtful and scared that one mistake could ruin everything you’ve ever worked for.

You feel Matthew grab your hand, pulling you down to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, wiping away the stray tear that had fallen, “I don’t want to spend my time with anyone besides you, please don’t ever think differently. You’re funny and smart and you care about every person in your life even if they don’t deserve it. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to feel like this ever.” You smile, trying to hide the butterflies you feel in your stomach when Matthew’s thumb grazes your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“Do you want to stay in here and hangout for the rest of the night, just the two of us?” Matthew whispers, not wanting to break the comfortable silence between you two.

You nod, climbing into his bed and waiting for him to join you, putting on a movie and pulling you into his arms. You knew there was a giant party going on outside of those four walls of Matthew’s childhood bedroom, but nothing could be better than laying in his arms just the two of you.

February 2020

After the All Star Game, you threw yourself into your schoolwork knowing Matthew was headed on a two week road trip. You’d spent the two weeks catching up on an enormous amount of work, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it once Matthew finally got back to Calgary. You were grabbing a coffee before your class, when your phone rang in your pocket - Matthew’s caller ID appearing on the screen.

“Helllllo,” You answer, excited to hear his voice - even if it was just over the phone.

“Hey, do you have plans for Valentine’s Day?” He asks.

“I do not,” you say, knowing for a fact Matthew knew you didn’t.

“We have this Flames gala thing and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” He asks, and you can hear Johnny and Sam chirping him in the background.

“Matthew, that’s in like two days!” You say, scolding him for not asking you sooner so you could find a dress.

“I know, I just kind of forgot about asking you, I told the team I was taking you though,” He defends, knowing he said he was bringing a date before he even bothered to ask you.

“Yes I will go, but please remember to give me some WARNING next time,” You sigh into the phone, “Now if you’ll let me go, I need to go find a dress.”

“I keep an extra card in my nightstand, use it,” Matthew says, “And before you say no, consider it a gift for not killing me for telling you last minute.”

Initially you laugh, knowing Matthew kept an extra debit card in his apartment because he lost his more frequently than a normal person should, but once his words settled in you began the usual protest you gave him when it came to money, “Matthew…” you start, ready to explain to him that you don’t need him spending ridiculous amounts of money on you.

“Y/N, just take it,” He says, “I’m really too tired for this one.”

You sigh, “Fine, but this is the last time.” “Whatever you say, I’ll tell Brittany to make sure you use it,” He says, and you knew he wasn’t kidding, “Bye.”

You mutter a goodbye back, texting Brittany that you were in dire need of an emergency shopping experience before the Gala on Friday. She laughed when you called, already having received a text from Matthew to make sure that she made you use his card.

The night of the gala you head to Matthew’s, carrying your dress and all of the things you knew you would need to get ready, tossing them in his guest room when you arrive. You head into the bathroom, promptly starting with your makeup when you heard him get in from the rink, yelling about how he was going to shower and heading into his room. You finally set your hair into loose curls and start to step into your dress. The off the shoulder black dress stopped right above your knees and fit you like a glove. Brittany didn’t even tell you how much is cost, grabbing it and paying for it on Matthew’s card before you could even look. But, the way it made you feel outweighed the guilt you felt. You slip on the nude heels you chose to wear, and call Matthew in to help clasp your necklace.

“Wow,” He says, stepping behind you, fastening the necklace to your neck, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks Matty,” You say, turning out to take in the suit he was wearing. When you told him you decided to get something black, he was excited having had a dark maroon suit in his closet he wanted to wear, “You look alright I guess.” “I look alright?” He asks, lightly tickling at your sides, “You’re such a brat.”

You laugh, “You look super handsome, happy?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and leading you out to his car. The Gala was in full swing when you arrived, the room filled with his teammates, fans, and other important people in the city.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” You hear Noah’s voice behind you while Matthew was over having a conversation with one of the team’s trainers who was at the event.

“What Noah?” You ask, ready for the comment about Matthew taking you as his date.

“You look like that and Chucky still won’t lock you down? He’s really dumber than I thought,” Noah says, gesturing to you.

“Don’t you have a date you should be complimenting?” You say back, knowing Noah had brought some girl to the event, even though they were never around long.

“Not one that looks as good as you,” Noah says, “So, still got that little crush.”

“Yes and I’m done talking about it,” You say, watching Noah’s hands go up in defeat as Matthew steps behind you.

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asks, ignoring the face Noah was giving him for being so gentle with you.

You nod, grabbing his hand and following him out to the dancefloor. You place your arms around his neck while his move to your hips, swaying to the music. You look behind you, seeing Noah smirking at the two of you while dancing with his own date. You throw up your middle finger, not letting Matthew notice. The two of you spend the night with each other, dancing and having Matthew introduce you to a lot of people who were working in the front office with the team that you’d never met before. You couldn’t help but feel like something was changing between the two of you, especially when he kept his hand on your lower back while walking through the gala, or his hand gently stroking your thigh while you guys sat at your table.

March 2020

You never talked about how you spent your Valentine’s Day romantically slow dancing with your best friend at a Gala his team was throwing after that night. You couldn’t tell if thing’s had actually changed between the two of you, or if it was a result of the romantic atmosphere. Thing’s with Matthew had returned back to the normal routine, with the Flames in the middle of their playoff push, Matthew was around less, spending more and more time at the rink. You understood, taking the time to spend some time with your friends that weren’t him.

You finally both had a day off, deciding that you’d head over to his place to cook the both of you dinner. You arrive at his place before he does, placing your bags down and getting straight to cooking. You hear him come in, humming at the smells of the food.

“Hey stranger,” He says, joking about the fact that you haven’t been spending as much time together as you usually did.

“Oh please, you talked to me about your practice today on the phone for an hour, you’re hardly starved for attention,” You say, calling him out for being dramatic.

“I need all of your attention or I might actually die,” He says, wrapping you in a hug, “So what’s been up with you?” “Same old same old, this guy from my class asked me out on a date, I haven’t told him yes or no,” You shrug, moving back to cooking dinner.

“No,” He says, instantly, and you turn off the oven, turning around to face him.

“No?” You ask.

“I mean- uh- fuck,” He stutters, “You can’t go on a date with that guy I’m sure you’re too good for him.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, “Matthew I know you live in a world where you don’t want me to get hurt, but I can’t not date because you don’t want me to.”

“I know, I just-” He starts before you cut him off.

“You what Matthew? Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn’t go out with this guy,” You snap back.

“Because I want you to date me,” He says quietly, “I wanted this to be better, you deserve it to be perfect, but I love you so much, and I can’t keep denying it any longer. I love when you spend all of your time here because I love spending time with you. I love that you get along with my teammates, and my family. I love when you get dressed up to go out, because I get to walk around with the most beautiful girl in the world under my arm. I was just terrified you didn’t feel the same way and that you’d hate me. Then when we were dancing at the Gala it felt different, like you were as into me as I’m into you.”

You uncross your arms, walking around the island to stand in front of him, placing your arms around his neck, “That might have been the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” “Really? Cause I think I could do better-” Matthew starts, but you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. His hands move to cup your face, kissing you back slowly, the two of you melt into each other like you’d been made for each other all along.

“I love you too,” You mutter against his lips, feeling him smile.

“You’re not gonna go on that date right?” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

You laugh, “No, there’s only person I want taking me out on a date,” you joke, placing another kiss to his lips.

“Sounds like a lucky guy,” Matthew jokes back, kissing you again, solidifying how truly right it feels to finally be together.

[blueskrugs]

That Don’t Sound Like You | Brock Boeser

title and inspiration come from the Lee Brice song of the same name. I like country music, okay? takes place roughly September 2015-August 2019. all games and other teammates are accurate.

because @captainkreider​ said “what if you write this for Brock” and I immediately had to rethink my priorities on who I will and will not write for. and then this happened. 

length: 4.7 words 

Girl, I’m glad you called

You met Brock early in your freshman year at University of North Dakota. He was always surrounded by people, popular and charismatic, even as a slightly awkward 18-year-old, but it seemed like he could, and would, talk to anyone who would listen.

You found that out for yourself when he plopped down a couple seats from you in some 100 level English lecture before leaning across the empty desk between you to introduce himself.

“I’m Brock,” he said with a grin.

You took a moment to assess him. His blond hair was tucked beneath a backwards snapback, looking every bit like a douche college athlete, but his blue eyes were kind, and his smile seemed genuine. You shot him a quick smile of your own before turning back to your notes.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered. Brock was still watching you closely; you flipped the page of your notebook.

Any further conversation was cut short by your professor coming in, his typical five minutes late. It was already the third week of class, and Brock had never sat near you before, usually choosing to sit more near the back, but you buried your confusion in favor of focusing on the lecture. 

Brock kept sitting next to you, though, would start a conversation with you most days. It was a week and a half before he asked for your phone number, another week before he actually texted you to complain about how he didn’t understand an assigned reading. In the meantime, you’d learned that you hadn’t grown up far from each other in Minnesota– just a couple towns away from each other outside Minneapolis, his favorite color– blue, but only one highly specific shade, and how he’d been drafted by the Canucks but was still trying out the whole college thing.

“So,” Brock started one day in October. You hummed in response, not looking up from your notes– you were trying to review for the test you had after this lecture was over. Brock nudged your elbow, but you still didn’t look up at him. “Hey. Y/N.” Brock was starting to whine now, so you glanced up at him. “So, uh, we have our first home game this Saturday.”

You raised an eyebrow at Brock. He looked nervous, fidgeting with a hoodie string and chewing on his bottom lip. You poked him in the arm with your pen. 

“Got something you wanna say, Boes?”

“Would you, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Brock, I don’t know. Spit it out.”

“Do you wanna come to the game?” he finally managed.

Now, UND took hockey as seriously as some colleges took football, and you’d spent more than one conversation with Brock discussing hockey, so he knew you liked it. Of course you’d be at the game on Saturday. But Brock wasn’t asking if you were going as a hockey fan. He was asking if you’d come to see him play.

You grinned, and Brock ducked his head and refused to look at you. His cheeks looked a little pink. You poked him with your pen again, this time just below his ribs, and he squirmed and snatched the pen from your hand. 

“Yeah, Brock, I’ll be there,” you assured him. 

He threw your pen at you. 

Brock scored a hat trick in front of the sold-out crowd and swept you up in his arms outside the arena.

That became the new normal for you two. You went to every home game to watch as Brock tore up the league as one of the best freshmen anyone had ever seen. He’d meet you outside the arena, and you’d end up at a diner with the rest of the team with Brock’s arm draped around your shoulder. The team accepted you into their fold easily enough, teasing and chirping you just as they would any other player. There was time spent alone with Brock, too, or as alone as you could get in a dorm building. It had started under the pretense of studying together, but over time, it usually ended under a pile of blankets and Grey’s Anatomy playing on one of your laptops.

Brock kissed you for the first time in early December, after the team swept the weekend against Denver. It was cold, and his breath brushed across your face in a white cloud when he leaned in, but his lips were warm against yours. 

Not much changed after that, not really, except for the fact that Brock got much less shy about always wanting to be near you or touching you in some way, whether it was your knees pressed against each other beneath a table on a date, or a hand on your hip or linked with yours when you were hanging out with others.

He did trip over his own feet the first time he saw you wearing one of his hoodies, though. 

You surprised Brock in Tampa in April for the Frozen Four finals, where he had the game winning goal, and three more assists to boot. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile as big as when you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist after the game, Stretch and Drake and everyone else still screaming somewhere behind you.

Truck tires on a gravel road Laughing at the world, blasting my radio Cannonballs splashing in the water

Brock called you one afternoon in June, after life had settled down into the lazy days of summer. “What’s up, babe?” you asked, absently throwing a tennis ball for your dog out in the yard.

Brock hesitated. “Do you still wanna come out to the lake with us?”

You had talked about it, a little, back when it was still ungodly cold in North Dakota, and Brock had mentioned that his family was going to try and rent a place on a lake for a week or two in July. It had seemed so far away then, as distant future as graduating or Brock heading off to Vancouver, which feels foolish now, with July creeping closer every day.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

The two of you talked about the future for the first time that week at Minnetonka, between bets of who could make the biggest splash, or turning up Brock’s playlists as loud as you could, yelling the words to country songs up to the clouds.

Brock wanted to stay at UND another year, use it to develop his game, but he whispered in the dark one night that he was scared of making it all the way to the NHL and not living up to expectations, no longer a bright star, but a supernova, left to fade into nothing. 

You had dreams of your own, too. Graduating and getting a job in a big city, getting away from Minnesota and small towns where everyone knew everyone. California, maybe, or somewhere on the East Coast like D.C.

(Brock had made a face at you for that.)

You realized for the first time, too, that you just might be in love with Brock. You weren’t sure what to do with that realization, though, just tucked your face a little tighter into Brock’s shoulder, tried not to think about what you would do if Brock ever asked you to follow him to Vancouver. You weren’t sure you could give up your life plans for anyone.

July passed with days in the sun and nights near a bonfire, drowning in one of Brock’s hoodies as you sat in his lap under a blanket. You wished you could live in moments like those forever.

Sophomore year was different for both of you. You were busier with classes, and Brock was more focused on hockey than ever, determined not to let his freshman season be a fluke. 

Not that anyone thought it would be.

Brock became an alternate captain. Continued to dominate on the ice, came back stronger after a couple of injuries. Brock Boeser was making a name for himself, and it was only a matter of time before everyone started paying attention.

The day after the team lost to Boston University in double overtime, the defending champs going out on their very first game of the tournament, Brock was home in Minnesota, signing an entry-level contract, and playing his first game as a Vancouver Canuck.

He had kissed you goodbye on Thursday before the team left for Fargo, with an “I love you,” murmured against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair, the promise of “see you soon” unspoken but understood between you.

But you sat on your couch and watched as Brock took to the ice for the team that believed in him against the team he grew up watching, you started to wonder just how soon that would be, and if you’d ever get your Brock back, or if you’d lost his love to the city of Vancouver.

Brock scored a goal that night. You’d always known he would fit right in in Vancouver. 

Brock broke up with you that summer. You had seen it coming, maybe since last July, when you realized that your lives were heading in different directions, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. You were supposed to go up to Minnetonka again, but you never made it that far before he was standing on your doorstep, hands shoved deep in your pockets.

Part of you wanted to insist that you could make the distance work, and maybe you could, maybe Brock thought it, too, but you couldn’t think of the words.

“I love you,” you said instead. 

You dropped a Target bag full of Brock’s things on his parents’ front porch, hoodies and beanies and other things that were too hard to keep, before you headed back to UND for the fall.

You kept in touch some, congratulatory texts (you) or pictures of the weather (him). You received dozens of Snapchats during All-Star Weekend in 2018, especially of the adorable dog he ended up adopting– you had vetoed changing his name from Cider– but you were pretty sure he was sending them to everyone.

Until you got one simply captioned “would be better with you here.” You stared at the picture– the view of Tampa outside his hotel room window– until the time ran out, and it disappeared. Then another came in, and you opened it quickly, unthinkingly. “Not quite like the last time we were in Tampa together tho.”

The only time you’d been to Tampa had been nearly two years before for the Frozen Four.

The picture disappeared again, and you didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t.

You graduated a semester early and made plans to move to the East Coast and get a job, start your life for real. No one commented on how you were about as far away from Brock and Vancouver as you could get.

You were doing laundry at your parents’ house, packing most of what you owned in your car to move, when you came across a green UND hockey T-shirt. It still smelled a little like Brock, even though it had been buried in your room for years. You spared half a thought to wonder if Brock ever even missed it before you throw it in the washing machine. 

You were surprised, then, when you got a text– a real one, too, not a Snapchat message– from Brock later that summer. You had never responded to those messages he had sent during the All-Star Game, and he had stopped sending things after a while. That had been over a year ago. 

Brock’s message was simple, just a “hey, how have you been?” You wondered if he even knew you moved, and you were immediately suspicious of ulterior motives. 

You left him on read for a couple of hours, before responding, and your message was short, curt. Your suspicions were proved right when he responded within half an hour.

“so” “Some of the guys from UND are coming up north for a couple days” “and they’ve been making some noise about seeing you”

You sighed. You were too tired for playing games, talking coyly, pretending like you were anything more than a couple of exes, practically strangers at this point. You pressed the call button below Brock’s name, realized for the first time that you’d never removed the green heart emoji from his contact. 

“Y/N?” Brock sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t been the one to text you first.

“Why now, Brock?” you asked. Why do you still care, is what you didn’t.

“Stetch won’t shut up about wanting to see you, and some of the other guys picked up the chorus,” Brock said. He sounded as tired as you felt. It may have been years since you had last seen some of his teammates from UND, it certainly sounded like they haven’t changed much. 

You went quiet, chewing on your bottom lip. Brock rushed to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to come. I just- I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have texted, I’m sorry.” His voice faded slightly, like he’d pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up.

And, well, you were going to blame what you said next on the fact that it was well after midnight and that you’d been awake for too many consecutive hours. 

“When is everyone coming up?”

Brock was silent, not even the sound of his breathing coming over the line. You checked to make sure he hadn’t, in fact, ended the call.

“Uh, second week of August,” he finally said.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Brock echoed. You could picture the crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, ‘okay.’ I’ll think about it,” you said. 

You didn’t know why you said that.

You didn’t know why you booked a flight to Minneapolis, or why you were actually looking forward to it. Even when Brock texted to warn you that some of his Canucks teammates would be there with the old faces from UND. 

You didn’t know what you were doing as you stood in the entryway of a lake house in Minnesota. Out on the deck, you could see some familiar faces, but you had never felt so out of place in your life. 

This was a bad idea. No, it was a terrible idea. You weren’t in college anymore. These weren’t your friends, your people. They had all moved on with their lives, and so had you. A weekend on a lake in Minnesota would only bring back the memories and the regrets of years gone by. 

You were just debating turning around and pretending that you had never even come when Brock stepped in and saw you standing there, looking like a fool. He looks surprised to see you. You take another step into the house.

“Hey, Y/N!” The surprise is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with what looks like genuine happiness. “C’mon, everyone’s outside.”

You follow silently, taking in Brock’s bare, tanned shoulders, the way his hair looks blonder from hours spent out on the lake. For a moment, you’re both 19 again.

Stetch yells when he sees you first, and then you’re being mobbed by hockey players. You only know a couple from UND– Stetch, Drake, and Josty, to start– and the rest are from Vancouver, introductions blurring together in a mess of faces and nicknames– Tuna, Petey, and Chris, who had definitely been called Dad by at least three different people.

You finally manage to break away and head for a drink, but Brock follows you.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, and you believe him, look into his eyes, painfully earnest and real and blue like the reflection of the sky on the lake. You offer a weak smile in return, not sure if you can say the same, not yet. Brock steps closer and opens the lid of the cooler you’re standing next to. “Jess says you ended up in D.C. after all. How is that? You happy?” 

His question catches you off-guard, and you hesitate, too long. “Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, it’s great.” Everything I’ve ever wanted, except you’re not there, is what you don’t say. You wonder briefly if he can still see right through you.

Brock’s head is buried in the cooler as he digs through the ice, but you can still see the way his shoulders go up like they always do when he’s frowning. That’s a yes, then. 

“What’s the difference between a White Claw and a Truly, anyway?” he muses instead of calling you out, before surfacing with one of each in his hands. He offers them both to you, and you take the Truly– wild berry, your favorite, not that Brock would have any reason to know that– and leave him the White Claw. He cracks it open and takes a long drink. You tear your eyes away from the line of his throat as he swallows.

“Boyfriend couldn’t make it?” Brock asks pointedly. Damn, he still follows you on Instagram.

You take a drink yourself instead of answering right away. “Couldn’t get off work,” you say. Which isn’t a lie, not really, but you hadn’t even asked, just told him you would be visiting home for the week. You didn’t think he’d love the idea of spending a weekend with a bunch of hockey players, especially when the one who’d invited you happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

Brock just blinks at you for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” he says again, just as honest as before. 

When the next person asks if you’re happy in D.C., you’re not quite as off-guard, and you manage to smile when you answer this time. Brock is watching you from across the deck, though, and you wonder if the smile looked as fake as it felt to everyone else, or if it was just Brock. 

You’re arguing with Josty about something ridiculous, when Emma, Troy’s girlfriend, sees you for the first time. 

“Oh my God, you cut your hair! It’s so cute!” she said before wrapping you up in a hug.

When she lets you go, you sweep your hair over one shoulder, an old habit from when it hung halfway down your back; it barely brushed your shoulders now.

“Thought it was time for a change,” you say, “and my boyfriend really likes it this way.”

Next to you, Tyson frowns and mumbles something about finding Brock. You and Emma both watch him go, a little confused.

I know it’s been a while, I don’t mean to pry But when I asked you if you’re happy, I didn’t hear a smile,  and that don’t sound like you

You’re sitting on the dock with your feet in the water that night when Brock settles next to you. Up at the house, everyone is either asleep or on their way to it. You’re both quiet for a moment, just the sound of crickets and the water lapping against the dock. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Brock says lowly. 

You breathe out a laugh. “I wasn’t either, not until I was actually here,” you admit. 

“Why did you come?”

“Why did you invite me?” you counter. It was the thing that kept bothering you about all this. Why had Brock decided to reach out now, after so long, after you’d moved on?

Brock sighs. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while.” It’s almost defensive, the way he says it. 

“Not like you tried very hard to catch up ever,” you say, and it’s mean, because you had stopped responding first, but you hadn’t known what else to do, how else to handle the heartbreak you had to relive with every text. 

“You fucking stopped talking to me!” Brock says, and, yeah, you deserve that, deserve the anger in his voice. You don’t expect to hear sadness, too, but you do. 

“What else was I supposed to do, Brock? Keep torturing myself with every text I sent?” You can’t bring yourself to be mad. You tilt your chin to look up at the stars instead, pretend you can’t feel Brock’s eyes on you. The stars are so much brighter out here, back home. “You were off chasing your dream, so it was time I went after mine.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, “Why’d you come here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. One last hurrah for when we were all in college? For freshman year when the future seemed so bright? For when I still thought having a good job in a good city with a guy who loves me would make me happy, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong city with the wrong guy?”

You get up before Brock can answer and leave him sitting on the dock in the dark. 

Morning comes, and you’re not sure the conversation with Brock even happened, except for the fact that Brock is alternating between watching you intently and refusing to make eye contact. Chris makes everyone breakfast, and you now understand why everyone was calling him Dad. You settle next to Troy, lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Did I somehow do something to make Petey not like me?” you ask, watching him talk quietly to Brock at the other end of the table. 

“Nah,” Stetch says, taking a bite of bacon. “His English still isn’t great, and his default resting face makes it look like he hates everyone.” He pauses, takes another bite. “Well, and the fact that you broke our boy Brock’s heart. He’s sensitive, don’t ya know?” His tone is light, teasing, but his words make you freeze.

You gasp, too loud for the morning air. A couple people glance over at you, but you’re turning to Stetch, who at least looks like he realizes his mistake.

“Brock broke up with me,” you hiss.

Troy barely glances down the table at Brock, but you still catch it. For a split second, you consider just getting up and leaving, but settle for glaring at Brock, who doesn’t look up. His cheeks still flush like he can feel your eyes on him.

“I no longer want to be a part of this conversation,” Stetch says, making a move to get up, but you grab his wrist. He winces but stays sitting. “Look, he came back for his rookie year and was always kinda quiet-” You scoff. “-but none of us asked any questions, and then after All-Star he said you’d stopped responding to his texts.” Stetch finishes with a shrug. 

“I stopped answering because I was still in love with him and stuck in North Dakota after he broke up with me that summer, dumbass. What the hell else was I supposed to do after he told me he wished I were at the All-Star Game with him? I was never going to be able to follow Brock to Vancouver, and he made it pretty clear he never really wanted me to, anyway.”

You didn’t realize that most of the conversations around the table had gone quiet until it was too late. Brock had gone pale. You had never wanted a confrontation, not here, but it was looking inevitable. Everyone else seemed to sense this, too, because soon the table was cleared, and it was just you and Brock. 

“Why do you stay if you’re not happy?” is what Brock says first.

“I- what?”

Brock smiles at you, but it’s sad. “Do you think I can’t tell?”

“I am happy,” you say, defensive. And you are, or you will be one day, once you can finally stop thinking about Brock, about all the what-ifs, the possibilities that are long gone. You were getting there, too, before you came back to Minnesota for this weekend and everything came crashing down around your ears. Still, maybe this is the closure you needed.

“Oh yeah?” Brock says in return, and it's a taunt, really, mean in a way that he’s never been with you.

“Since when do you have any right to my happiness? What do you want me to say, Brock? That I always knew we were never meant to work out, but I fell in love with you anyway? That I went to D.C. and got everything I wanted, but once I had it, it didn’t seem right anymore? They say you never forget your first love, and, dammit, it’s really hard when yours is living his dream and tearing it up in the NHL. Is that what you want to hear, Brock? That I’ll never really get over you, even as I fall in love again, resign myself to the fact that someone else is going to fall in love with you someday, and be everything for you I couldn’t?”

Brock is frozen at the other end of the table. You want to jump in the lake, stay underwater until your lungs burn and your tears are hidden. You want to get in your rental car and drive, drive all the way to Minneapolis and keep going until you’re out of Minnesota and never look back. You want to kiss Brock, for old time’s sake, and you never want to see his face again. 

He still hasn’t said anything, so you turn and go inside, past everyone pretending like they hadn’t just been watching everything. You’re throwing everything back in your bag when Brock stumbles up the stairs. You pause, cross your arms, and raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Shit, wait,” he pants.

You can’t hold back the smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional athlete?” you say, almost without thinking. 

Brock flips you off as he leans against the doorframe, but it’s half-hearted. 

“You can’t just say shit like that and then fucking walk away,” he says, and it comes out more like a whine. “I just- I had no idea. Should’ve probably, yeah, but-” he stops, collects his thoughts. “What did you mean when you said you could never follow me to Vancouver?”

“Would you even have asked,” you say, which isn’t an answer at all.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about all of your plans, and I never wanted to stop you. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to follow me.” And, finally, for the first time in years, it seems like you two understand each other.

“Of course I did,” you say softly, and Brock looks up at you, surprised. “I just didn’t know that then. And then I didn’t think you wanted me, not when I was just some girl from college.”

“You were never just some girl from college,” Brock says quickly. He rolls his eyes. “You wanna know why I asked if you were happy? You cut your hair.” Brock sounds pained, and you remember all the times he would play with your hair while you cuddled on the couch or in bed. “Since when do you change something like that for a guy?”

“And I wouldn’t have had to change for you? After I’d graduated, if you wanted me to come to Vancouver for you?” 

Brock’s recoils, your words like a slap to the face, but it’s not as vindicating as you thought it would be. “It’s not just the hair. It’s the way you talk, the way you smile. What happened to the girl I knew?”

And that’s the problem. You’re not the girl he knew, not anymore. You’ve both grown up, lived life a little more. You might still love Brock, but you love the Brock from North Dakota, not the one who’s been in Vancouver for two years. You don’t know that Brock, and maybe you could love him, but that’s not for you to find out. It’s not fair to anyone. It just took you coming out to the lake to realize that. 

So you smile at Brock and say, “She got her heart broken and left North Dakota behind.” But you follow Brock back downstairs, spend the day out on the water, feeling settled for the first time since you got there, maybe since you had last spoken to Brock way back in 2018. 

That town, that job, that guy You can leave them behind, girl, you know you’re better than that

The boys build a bonfire after dinner, as the sun sets over the lake, and someone breaks out the ingredients for s’mores. 

“Y’know,” Brock says, resting his hand on your knee after you’ve settled into a chair. His hand is warm through the blanket draped over your lap. “For what it’s worth, there would always be a place for you in Vancouver.” 

Maybe there would be, but you weren’t sure that that place was somewhere you belonged. You don’t say that, though, just settle your feet in Brock’s lap and take the marshmallow that’s being offered to you. 

There’s a life waiting for you on the other side of the continent, and it just might be the one you were always meant to have. 

[generallybarzy]

smile like sunshine vi

Thursday: ~ 9.2k words

previous chapters: i // ii // iii // iv // v

an: writing this was tough on me. I’ve obviously been through a lot of ups and downs while trying to write this, considering it took like 4 months to finish. Continuously losing inspiration and motivation and hitting writer’s block too many times was tough. The chapters keep getting longer and I feel like there are less and less notes everytime. It hurts to see my favorite fic do so poorly, so I've been hesitating to post this. But it’s finally here, and there are only 2 chapters left. Now, let’s see how few notes this gets. Thank you to my beautiful amazing editor/bestie @folkloreflyers I couldn't have done this without you bb 🥰💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

tagging some beautiful people: @sunflowertimothee @deleausvp @dunnwithlyfe @smit41 @softboybarzal @fallinallincurls @matbaerzal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @hockeyhughes11 @folkloreflyers @nazdaddy @shawnsreputation

summary: after everything that happened last night, Mat and Y/N realize they probably need some time apart to regroup with their thoughts and emotions and prevent themselves from pushing the boundaries of their friendship so far that they’d never return to normal. It’s 2019, eleven years after you first befriended him, and things are definitely different this time around...

If there was ever a time when you wanted to slip away into the memory of what you once had with Mathew: an amazing friendship, not overshadowed or blurred by stupid hormones and growing feelings, it was now.

It was almost tragic to think about how you’d lost all that time and could never go back to the days when you were completely carefree and nothing could bring you down. Those hot, summer days with Mat when watermelon juice and sticky, sugary ice pops dripped down your hands, and your faces were burnt in the sun were long gone. You’d never be like that again. No matter how often you dreamt of it, thought of it, and buried yourself in memories of that summer to block out the worries of adult life, you couldn’t get it back.

The sun was going down on your second to last night at the beach, as you sat by Mat in the sand, giggling as the water lapped at your toes and digging up handfuls of the tiny coquina clams burrowing in the sand- not that you knew what they were called, but did it matter? Your parents sat further back onshore, talking around a fire and watching the younger children, and you and Mat, like always, were left to entertain yourselves. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. No, you loved spending time with him.

You didn’t realize that your time with Mat was coming to an end. You weren’t sure what day of the week it was, where you were, or when you were leaving, but that didn’t matter. Not then.

“Are you having fun with Mat?” Your mom had asked you earlier in the day.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend!”

“Well,” Your mom laughed. “Why don’t you go have some more fun with him. Cherish your time, we won't be here forever.”

You didn't quite understand the weight of her words, but cherish him, you did. The two of you were attached at the hip, to both your parent's amusement, and after only a week of friendship now, your parents could hardly separate you two. 

“Ugh, younger siblings are so annoying." You groaned in agreement to Mat's statement and fell back in the sand when you looked back and saw your baby siblings sucking up all your parents’ attention.

"Yeah, 'cause they're smaller and cuter than us." 

"No, that's not true!” Mat shook his head, dark hair flopping around in the breeze, hazel eyes wide. “You're still pretty cute." 

"Ewwww, Mat!" 

"So am I, my nonna told me!" You laughed at him. Only a week into knowing each other and he could already make you laugh better than any of your friends at school. "So that's not it."

"Well, they always have all the attention. I'm so bored and lonely sometimes." 

"Nuh-uh, you have me. I'm always here to hang out!" He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, his small, sand-covered arms, and neither of you noticed both of your parents watching from the campfire. As wise as they were, they knew that if you had been a few years older, this would’ve been too much for them to handle. And little did you and Mat know, at only ten and eleven years old, but you were about to be separated for eleven years. 

“Friends forever?”

“Forever! I’ll always be here!”

“Promise?” You stuck out your pinky, and Mat linked it happily with his own, smiling that gleaming smile. 

“Promise.”

You had fucked up something amazing.

You woke up early with a pounding headache right as the sun began to beam in through your window, hitting your face in the worst possible way. You’d never so hated the sound of the ocean, but right now, it was just… too much. Too loud. For the first time since you had arrived at the beach, you didn’t wake up smiling and excited to be here, but instead dizzy and confused, questioning what had happened last night, and filled with dread at the thought of having to face the day. And, when you realized what you’d done in your drunken stupor, regret immediately began gnawing away at your mind. 

You had fucked up bad.

You buried your face under your pillows to try and drown out the pounding noises in your ears as the image of yourself flooded to your brain, absolutely wasted and stumbling, pushing your body into his, pushing your mouth onto Mat’s and kissing him. It was drunken, messy, and definitely not the way you'd imagined many, many times, your first kiss with him to be. It wasn't magical and beautiful and gentle and sweet, but drunk and sloppy and one-sided. Unreciprocated. You couldn't stop thinking about his reaction. He hadn’t kissed you back, his hands didn’t cup your face gently and pull you flush against his warm body the way you imagined, but instead pushed you away and held you between his arms and looked at you. He hadn’t even smiled or laughed and brushed it off afterward. He must have been disgusted with your actions, he must have wanted to yell at you, ask “What are you doing?” but understood that you were drunk and settled for pushing you away. He'd confront you today, tell you that he couldn't look at you the same way after what happened, tell you that he no longer wanted to be friends. That when you’d get back to New York, you would never speak to each other again.

Fuck.

“(YN)!” The pounding on your door made you cringe and groan. Well, it might not have been pounding, but it certainly sounded like it, as your head throbbed in agitation. “Wake up honey!”

You groaned and rolled over in bed.

She cracked the door open as quietly as possible, showing a little bit of sympathy, which you were thankful for. “Hungover?” Your groan was enough of a response for her. “You’re not gonna get better lying in here, come out.” When you still didn’t answer, she continued. “I’ll be louder next time I have to come in to get you.” And then she left you to drag yourself out of your lethargic state.

Well, fuck, you thought as you cast a glance out the window where the sun was rising over the ocean, might as well get up and face the day, no point in hiding. You needed to get some fresh air, maybe some alone time on the beach before Mat gets up. You needed to talk to someone about what happened, you couldn’t keep this to yourself, but who would you tell? Not your mom, no one in your family actually. Sure, you were close, but you weren’t gonna tell them about your drunken mistake- how you kissed your best friend. Best friend. Your best friend- all the way back in New York City, who always helped get you out there, was the reason you ever reconnected with Mat in the first place, and would definitely be your maid of honor in the future- would definitely want to know about your kiss with Mat Barzal. 

“Amy…”

You reached over to the bedside table for your phone and the first thing you noticed, after pressing the power button, was an unread text from none other than Mat Barzal, sent at 1:38 am, probably when you got home last night:

Maty: Hope you don’t feel too bad when you wake up.

It was strange, it was unlike him to leave such a message. Yeah, he always checked in and texted you saying he hopes you’re feeling good, but there was no “sleep tight” or anything funny or cute and not even a smiley emoji like usual. Well, in his defense, you had just kissed him. Of course, he’d feel weird around you. 

You sent a quick text to Amy, who you hadn’t spoken to since the beginning of the trip now, and who must have been dying to know anything that happened between you and Mat. She would probably be happy you kissed him, bless her heart, she was in love with your friendship with Mat and the story of how you came to meet, but you needed someone to listen seriously to your problem and help you.

It’d be at least another hour until Mat gets up, you guessed, so, with much hesitation, you dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom where you steadied yourself on the sink as your head spun, washed your face, and caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, running a hand through your hair to smooth it down before opening your door to face the day. 

The first thing you noticed, even in your state, was the smell of coffee and breakfast from the kitchen. Usually, you loved that scent, but today it made you want to puke, and as you sat down at the island in the kitchen, you dropped your head into your arms and groaned.

“Rough night?” 

“Pretty bad.” 

The sound of a water bottle being set down in front of you was much louder than it should’ve been. “Drink, it’ll make you feel better.” You took a sip of water and laid down on your arms again, going back to suffering in silence and wracking your head over trying to figure out any possible way out of this sticky situation. “What else is wrong?” You looked up to where your mom was making knowing eyes in your direction. You were close to your mom, sure, you thought you had a pretty good relationship with her, but you were positive you didn’t want to tell her what you had done last night. At least, not now. You knew the news would eventually get to your dad, and you couldn’t imagine what would happen if he found out. 

Hopefully staying pretty ambiguous would save you. “I think Mat’s mad at me.” 

“I doubt it. The boy adores you.” You wanted to tell her no, that’s gross, you’re only friends, but something made you stop. Mat did adore you. He was always there for you, he was the greatest friend ever, and how do you repay him? By kissing him and screwing up both of your feelings? “What makes you think he’s mad?”

“I think I did something stupid last night. Said something dumb when I was drunk. And he sent me a text before bed last night that didn't sound like how he usually does.”

“Well, you won’t know until you talk to him. It won’t be any good to ignore him for the rest of the trip” Fuck, why did her advice have to be good words of wisdom? 

A door rattled open from down the hall and there was Mat, rubbing his face, his hair falling into his eyes, as he crossed the hallway into the bathroom. He cast a glance to the kitchen, locking eyes with you for half a second before he was gone.

You knew he’d be getting up now, so, grabbing your water bottle and phone, you made your way to the back door to avoid any alone time with him. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.” And you headed out the back door and down onto the beach.

Amy had texted you back by now, telling you to call her right away, and you took the moment to reflect, walking down to the water’s edge and just looking out. The early morning heat was cooling down, the sun had barely risen and already dark clouds were rolling in from the horizon, the rain was coming, maybe even a storm in the next hour or so. Sure, you may have made your friendship awkward, but for now, you’re still friends. At least until he comes out to confront you. So until then, you were gonna be proud. You had kissed him. His lips were just as soft and nice as you expected them to be, and his face pressed against yours was something you could get used to. Unfortunately, that scenario was unlikely. 

Your heart raced when you started connecting the video call, and you couldn’t help a smile from spreading over your face for the first time all morning. Yesterday, besides the mistake you’d made, was easily one of the best days of your life. Mat took you out to the pier because he remembered you loved it when you were younger, he remembered he promised to teach you to skate, he even remembered your favorite ice cream flavor. And, despite how much you regretted kissing him, you had kissed him. You had kissed Mat. God, Amy is gonna be fucking ecstatic for you.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while.” 

“Ames, I’m sorry for not calling sooner-”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed, always a welcome sound, and you knew she wasn’t upset. “You’re on vacation with Mat fucking Barzal. But now that I have you for a few minutes, girl, spill. All. The. Details. Now.” 

“Yeah,” You laughed at her words. All the details? “He took me out to the pier yesterday for my birthday. We roller-skated together and held hands.”

“Oh my god, seriously? That’s so fucking cute!” You winced at the way she shrieked in joy for you, your head still pounding as you tried to overcome the hangover. Amy immediately noticed your change and lowered her voice. “Girl, are you hungover?”

“You tell me. I’m twenty-one now, aren’t I?” Before she could start talking again, you continued, figuring it would be easier to just get all your words out there and over with. Rip off the bandaid. “Actually, I did something really bad last night. When I was drunk.”

“Oh shit. Spill!”

“I…” You couldn’t help the small smile on your face. As much as you hated the realistic part of this, you were still overjoyed it had happened. You shook your head and pushed on. “I kissed Mat.” 

It was almost comical how your friend’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. It almost made you laugh, it had a little smile pulling at your face. Holy shit, it was still sinking in that you’d kissed Mat.  “Oh… my god. You kissed Mat. You kissed Mat Barzal. How was it?”

“Well, messy. I was drunk, he didn’t kiss back at all. But focus on the realistic part, Ames. I made it awkward.”

“Oooh…”

“How are we gonna be friends after this? He’s gonna hate me, he’s gonna wanna leave, he’s never gonna want to talk to me again. He must think I’m so dumb-”

“Babe, listen, he doesn’t think any of that. He’s head over heels for you. If not in love, then in platonic love at least.” 

“Now you’re sounding like my mom.”

“I hate to say it, but I actually agree with her then.” You sighed. As much as you wanted to listen to them, maybe the realistic side of your brain was just too powerful. “Mat has done stupid things around you when he was drunk. Remember the karaoke night? He was so fucking embarrassed in the morning.”

“Yeah, but he never kissed me.” He never kissed you, not once. Not even when you desperately wanted him to, when he was drunk or Christmas Eve, or New Years’, or his birthday, not even when you practically created chances to get close to him, not even when you kissed him.  No matter how much you wanted it, life isn’t a love song. “Look, things don’t just work out like in romance novels. Some things don’t get to last beyond one summer. Sometimes this shit just doesn’t happen. Sometimes it’s just a feeling.”

“It’s only a feeling ‘til you make it more.”

“Shut uuuup. He hasn’t spoken to me since then. He’s obviously upset.”

“Have you tried to talk with him?”

“I mean…” 

“So you haven’t. C’mon, you gotta at least ask him about it.”

“Okay, but if I ask him how he feels he might say he doesn’t want to be friends. If I avoid him completely, he can’t break off the friendship, right?” Before she could respond, you rambled on, maybe to her, maybe just to yourself. Sometimes it’s good to just talk yourself out of something. “We’ve become such good friends in the last year and I really don’t want to lose him because of something stupid that I did while drunk. I feel like I messed everything up.” 

“Babe, babe. You didn’t mess anything up.” Ames smiled at you over the phone as thunder rumbled in the distance. “This isn’t gonna drive him away, okay? He’s in too deep already. Trust me.”

“Alright, we’ll see.” 

And you would see. But now, you had to go to the porch, already feeling raindrops drip from the looming clouds above. The storm was rolling in. And it was coming fast.

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

Even before Mat’s eyes opened that morning, his mind was racing.

He rolled onto his side in bed, eyeing the pillow he had been hugging against him all night. It was as if he was a child who needed a teddy bear to fall asleep, and he hated how vulnerable you made him feel. But rather, you were his teddy bear and after that night in the motel, he couldn’t sleep without some sort of faux version of you that would never compare. Not to your warmth, your softness, your heartbeat against his chest, the soft sighs of breath against his neck. You had messed him up bad. You had kissed him, and it’s unnecessary to think it needs explaining why he was so confused. “I had a dream about you last night. We were really goin’ at it. You were really good, like, really good.” What had you meant by it? Was it just a dumb mistake? Or is what they say true: “Drunk words are sober thoughts”? The moment your lips touched his last night, he was flooded with serotonin. It was… well, maybe not perfect, but more than he could ever hope for. More than he thought he would ever get. 

He wanted it so bad, he wanted it for months now, but he wanted it sober. He wanted you to know what you were doing. He wanted you to mean it. He didn’t want it like last night.

He pushed himself up, hearing the muffled conversation from the kitchen. He knew it was you and your mom, and, though he couldn’t hear any clear words, he couldn’t help but realize that the conversation had to be about him, and for a moment he was strangely self-conscious. It was an unfamiliar feeling for him, but he was embarrassed, even ashamed he had let anything happen last night. 

He shouldn’t have let you get so drunk.

The moment he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the conversation came to an abrupt stop. He glanced up into the kitchen, where he immediately caught your gaze, noting how much of a wreck you were this morning. He couldn’t help the way he rushed into the bathroom before you could say anything. 

He heard you say something about “fresh air” and then the back door opened and closed, he finished up his morning routine and rushed back into his room. He’d barely even sat back down in bed when there was a pounding on his bedroom door that was a lot less than friendly. 

“Mathew!”       

Your dad was gonna fucking kill him.

It was safe to say he’d never been more afraid as he jumped to his feet and stepped over to the door, debating on pulling out his phone to send a final “Goodbye, I love you” texts to you, his friends, and family. But there didn’t seem to be any time for that, as the pounding on his door increased. Sucking up a deep breath, he opened it and was greeted by the face of your father with crossed arms and a scowl. He could only choke out a terrified “Yes, sir?”, sounding like a pathetic teen boy caught in a girl’s room.

“(Y/N)”s upset.” 

"I-"

"I don't know why that is, but something tells me you have something to do with it." Mat went silent, trying to figure out what he could say. You were upset? Were you upset with yourself, or with him? He had stopped your kiss, brought you home, got you water, and tucked you into your bed, what had he done wrong? “She thinks you’re angry at her.”

“Why would I be-?”

“Mathew.” The boy closed his mouth when your father put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him over towards the bed. “Sit.” Mat nodded quickly and sat on the edge of the bed, flattening his hands on his thighs awkwardly and waiting for the lecture to start. “Listen, I don’t know what’s happening between the two of you, but I can see how much you mean to her. I know I shouldn’t be too hard on you, but I just need to make sure you’re going to treat her right.” Mat couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face momentarily. He was in the middle of opening his mouth to say thank you when your father rambled on, eyes narrowed, examining the boy in front of him. “(Y/N) has been hurt a lot in the past, and I’ve tried to help. It’s not my place to mess with her love life anymore. She’s not a baby. But the least I can do is make this right. I still remember what you said on our first day here. You like my daughter?”  

He nodded enthusiastically. “I really do. A lot.”

“Good. So then you didn’t mean to hurt her?” 

Mat’s head shook frantically, wracking his brain for what he might’ve done. “Absolutely not. I don’t know why she is, I don’t think I did anything wrong.”

 “I’ve seen her hurt so many times, and I’m gonna trust that you’ll treat her right. Now, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and I’m not going to ask. That’s between you two. But she thinks you’re angry, you’re obviously not, and you need to fix it.” 

“I know, I promise I will. I’ll make her so happy, I swear to God, I promise you.”

The older man continued to look at his daughter’s friend for a few long, tense seconds, but Mat’s eyes gave everything away with no hesitation. His feelings were genuine, he truly, truly cared. He wasn’t lying. Slowly, he nodded, and Mat’s face lifted in a cautious smile. Was this… approval? Was this your father’s blessing? Your father slapped his hand on Mat’s back. “There’s something else I want to show you. C’mon, Mat.”

-----------

You sat alone on the porch with your little pile of shells, watching the rain pour down beyond the porch, watching the waves continue through the storm, always pushing and pulling despite the circumstances. And as you threaded shell after shell onto your little braided bracelet, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

It was the summer of 2015, you were sitting on the passenger side of his dad’s car, the wind in your hair and OMI's 'Cheerleader' playing on the radio. You had just turned 17 and were trying to live your best life on the coast with your new friends, forgetting about any of your responsibilities and just chilling for this trip. You might have been getting involved in the wrong crowd, but you couldn’t care less. You had your friends, you had your newfound teenage freedom, and, most importantly, you had him.

When you first met him, at the beginning of the summer, he was new to your group of friends. But he immediately seemed to take a liking to you. 

“You’re different.” He would whisper in your ear as you sat around the campfire with your friends before breaking away from the group to go make out by the cliffs. “There’s just something about you.” He would say as his hands glided over your swimsuit under the water, hidden from your other friends eyes. He knew just the right words to say to have you sinking into him, giving in, And you were stupid to follow him.

In the back of your head, this party was a stupid idea, but it was summer, you were young, he was hot, you had to live your life. What was the worst that could happen?

Kyle was behind the wheel of his dad’s car- maybe he had taken it without his permission, maybe not, who knows?- his beachy blonde waves blowing in the breeze and his blue eyes sparkling behind dark sunglasses. His hand was on your thigh, he was always touching you in some way, but what you didn’t know was that you weren’t his only girl for the summer. He wasn’t trying to hide it, all the signs were there, but you were too carefree to notice. 

The car came to a stop and you both jumped out, locking arms around each other before running over to the steamy, crowded party atmosphere.

Really, what was the worst that could happen?

You were sitting there lamenting over your past, nursing a cup of coffee and staring out into the thunder and rain, fidgeting with the object closed in your fist when the door opened down the porch. And when you looked up, of course, you were met by the man himself, wearing a lightweight gray hoodie, the hood pulled up over his dark waves of hair. “Hey Y/N.”

“Mat.” 

There was a moment of silence, perhaps for your damaged friendship or perhaps for the growing feelings that neither of you believed were reciprocated, as you both stayed in place, not knowing what to do or say to the right things to make it better. You let the silence, the tension settle uncomfortably between the two of you as the rain pounded as heavily as your hearts. Mat stayed in place where he was standing at the doorway, not wanting to come any closer. Whether it was because he was upset and grossed out or something else, you couldn’t tell, but you needed the silence to end. “Mat, I’m so sorry about last night. I didn’t mean- I was just, I was drunk and I couldn’t think straight-”

“Hey, hey. No big deal.”

“No, it was so uncalled for, I-”

“Hey, (Y/N), I’ve had people kiss me while drunk before.” He gave you a reassuring smile, but something was missing. Something genuine. That sparkle was missing from his eye and the sunshine was missing from his smile.. Something had definitely changed. Something definitely wouldn’t go back to normal. “Seriously. It’s nothing.” He swore. Cross his heart. Something was definitely wrong, but you weren’t going to bring it up. If he was alright with moving past this, so were you. “You don’t have to feel bad at all.”

“Promise?”

 “Promise. Friends?” He stuck out his pinky for you. 

You smiled at the gesture that threw you back to your childhood and accepted it happily, despite the twinge of guilt and fear in your chest. “Yeah, friends.” 

“Good. I’m glad.” Mat smiled, taking a seat next to you, pretending everything was normal. “I like being friends with you.” He was shouting at himself in his head, this is so fake, so forced. But he would rather force the comfort than not have you in his life at all. And then the silence was back.

The silence was painful, filled with unspoken words- words you could never say aloud- and both of you knew. You weren’t sure if the rain was picking up or it had just become so overwhelming between the two of you that you were hyper fixating on the patter patter patter of raindrops against the porch roof. Friends. Friends. If this is what it's like to be Mat's friend, you could only wonder what it would be like to have him as your own, to be his, to hug him and kiss him and protect him and have him do the same to you.

“I, uhhh.” You glanced over to see Mat’s eyes already dead set on you, and you wondered if he had been staring the whole time. You were almost shy as you opened your fist to him. “I finished it.”

“Woah.”

"Yeah, you like it?" 

“I love it.” Mat took the bracelet with delicate fingers, as if afraid he was going to break it, and slid it onto his wrist gently. A perfect fit. "It's amazing. You're really talented. Seriously. " His eyes were unbelievably soft as he gazed at the pretty shells you had worked so hard to braid together for him. All for him, from you. “I’ll never take it off.” 

"Oh, never?"

"I'm dead serious." 

Your heart throbbed in your chest. The idea of him wearing this bracelet you had worked so hard on, even when plagued by the thought that maybe he wouldn't want to be friends at all anymore, just had you so overwhelmed. The idea of him wearing something you made for him, something so personal, as if it was there to constantly remind him of this summer, of you. Like it was a cute inside joke no one else would ever understand, made your heart ache. It was as if you were claiming him, as if he was claiming you as one of his best friends, one of the few people that got a glimpse into his private life. You were special.

“I’m serious.” He repeated. “Honest. I love it.” 

“Thank you, Mat.”

His arm fell heavily but gently across your shoulders as he tucked you closer into his body, and something about the weight of it against you was comforting, a reminder that he was still there no matter what and he would always be there no matter what. Mat was resilient, and no matter how much you wanted to push him away, he was here. He was your friend. Forever, and through anything.

"Hey," Mat broke the silence. "I have something for you, too." 

"Yeah?" 

"Consider it a late birthday gift."

"Mat, you've already gotten me so much-" 

"Ah, ah. Your dad actually found these. I'm just presenting them." Before you had a chance to ask or even wonder what it could be, Mat was pulling some flimsy rectangles from his hoodie pocket. 

"Are these...?"

"From that summer." Mat finished with a smile, letting you take them from his hands. 

"No way." 

There in your hands were photographs your parents took of you and Mat, ten and eleven years old. The two of you were standing close, Mat’s arm around your shoulders and squeezing you into his hug, both of your faces lit up with wide smiles. You were so close that summer and you weren’t sure how your parents dealt with the two of you. That picture captured a moment of childish joy and innocence- grinning brightly in mid laughter as you built your final sandcastle of the summer together. LIttle did you know, back then, but the next morning, you’d be leaving, leaving your summer-long friendship behind.  

“Look at us.” Mat’s voice was tender, gentle as he leaned in closer and you fingered through the pictures. “I can’t believe we were so small.”

“I can’t believe you still smile the same, Maty.”

He laughed at the nickname that threw him back to that first summer. He quieted down for a few moments as you flipped through the rest of the pictures, his fingers drumming softly on your arm. “I still can’t believe we found each other.”

“I know.”

You could hear your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage as Mat leaned in closer to look at the pictures with you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you stopped suddenly as one picture caught your attention- the family picture taken that year, with both your family and the Barzals posing together as friends. But what really stuck out to you was the way Mat’s face was pressed up against your cheek, in the most innocent, childish kiss you’ve ever seen. 

“Wow, look at that.” Mat chuckled a bit through his words, his eyes soft behind you. He didn’t remember kissing you at eleven years old, but seeing that picture brought sparks to his veins and had memories flooding back to his mind. It was you. You hadn’t just been his first crush, but his first kiss as well. “We’ve come pretty far, eh?” Your silence was almost painful to him, and he couldn’t help the way his face fell. Wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say, oh god oh god oh god.

“Yeah, we have.” 

He smiled again as your voice filled his ears. 

“Do you remember that place, Mat?” His eyes followed your finger as you traced the rocky cliffs in the background of the photo. Oh, did he remember. The little hidden beach, surrounded on three sides by rocky cliffs and sandy dunes and the little ocean inlet shallow and warm and perfect for swimming in, was a beautiful place that immediately brought back memories. You had first found that place on a family walk, and Mat had dared you to jump off the cliffs into the water with him. Of course you didn’t end up jumping, as neither of your parents let you out of their sight. 

“It’s our little hideaway.” 

“Yeah.” You sat in silence for a moment, in awe that you had such a private little place with him, and noticed how the rain was slowing down. “When it stops raining, do you want to walk there tonight?” 

“Absolutely. As much as I love your family, I’ve been dying to spend some time with my girl again.” 

My girl. My girl. My girl. Too much? 

But the smile on your face reassured him. “I wanna spend more time with you too, Mat.” You threw your arm around his shoulders in an act you thought was sweet, but regretted it and drew back your arm as soon as he let out a sharp hiss. “What’s wrong?” 

“Ah, nothing.” 

“You’re sunburnt, aren’t you?” 

“No, no, it’s not bad.”

“Mat, I told you you’d get burnt!” He was quiet, red faced, and you weren’t sure if all the red was from the burn or embarrassment. “Let me see.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Mathew!” 

“I promise.” But you stood up, always just as stubborn as him, photographs in hand, and held your hand out to him. He looked up at you, amused. Oh what you did to him.

 “Come on. We’ll fix you up, dummy.” 

Mat laughed and shook his head before giving in, his palm sliding into yours and following you obediently back into the house. 

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

The rainclouds had finally cleared, though it was too late in the day to get any sunlight in, and instead the vast blanket of stars were already beginning to twinkle overhead when you and Mathew headed out after the family dinner. 

“Mat, look at all the stars tonight!”

“You still love them as much as always, yeah?”

“Of course!” 

Mat watched you, adoration evident in his eyes, as you gazed up at the sky in awe. He had to agree. There weren’t stars like this in the city, not even in his hometown. This little oceanfront town didn’t produce enough light to block out the beautiful heavens above. But, his eyes were still fixated on you, on the wonder in your eyes and the way you were so soft and amazing in everything you do. The moon could be falling, for all he cared, there could be a literal alien spaceship in front of them, but all he could see was you. “Beautiful.” 

“They look best after it storms, I think.” 

“Yeah?” Mat could do nothing but nod along, too lost in his own thoughts to find words to say. He hoped he didn’t seem too boring, but walking there, hand in hand with you and feet in the warm sand, his mind couldn’t help but wander. What if you loved me, (Y/N)?

“I think I wanna be a constellation when I die.”

“That’s-” Mat laughed a bit louder than he meant to at your sudden confession, and stumbled to pull himself back together. “That’s a little grim to talk about, isn’t it?” 

“I mean, I just think stars are so pretty, and I’d just love to be twinkling up there, looking down on people. Plus, I’m more of a night person anyway.” You smiled, and Mat’s heart fluttered in his chest. “What about you? If you were reincarnated as something? Maybe… ice? So you could live and die with hockey like you do right now?”

Mat didn’t even need to think for a second, he knew his answer immediately. Stars, stars, I’d lie in the stars with you, spend all eternity by your side. I’d drop hockey, all the wins and the trophies and the attention. I’d drop it all for you. “Yeah, that’d be pretty cool.” 

You walked, hand in hand, down the length of the beach, until you could no longer look back and see your house. Until houses no longer speckled the shore, and instead it was just you, Mat, the ocean and the stars, in your own little world. The shore rose beside you, and after walking around a little bend, you were suddenly hidden away in a little sandy inlet, rocky cliffs surrounding you on three sides, and the ocean, gentle and lapping on the other. 

“Here it is.”

“Looks the same as when we were young.” Your hand slipped out of his, just for a moment, to pull out your phone. “Smile, Mat.” His face lit up, not in one of the dazzling smiles you remember and loved so much, but a softer, gentler little smirk.

“Before and after pic, huh?”

“Yeah.”

For a few moments, his eyes gleamed in mischief, and you should’ve known what was coming.

“You know what? You still never jumped off the dock at the fishing spot with me. But I can think of something that would be even more fun.” You were about to ask what, but the smirk on his face as he glanced towards the cliffs and raised a hand to motion towards it should’ve told you that nothing innocent was coming. “Remember that dare?”

“Oh my god.” You laughed at the excited look on his face.

“Let’s jump off that rock.” 

“Are you the bad influence my parents always warned me about? Who asks if I’ll jump off a bridge with them?”

He laughed, loud and boisterous and bouncing around the sandy dunes and cliffs that hid you away from the rest of the world. “Maybe I am.” And then he stretched his arms above his head and tossed his shirt to the sand, the muscles of his now bare chest and shoulders shining in the pale moonlight, watching with a giddy smile as you looked him over with an incredulous laugh. He took a few strides back towards the rocks, giving you an enticing smirk and luring you out to him like a siren with his song. “So? You coming in or what?” You should’ve turned back right there; you should’ve recognized the signs and listened to your head rather than your heart, your hormones, and turned back to shore and ran, left him here alone instead of stepping over this boundary- scratch that, fucking barrelling through this boundary like it was a race to finish- but you didn’t. You stayed. Worse yet, you stepped towards him, foolishly, blinded by that goddamn stupid smile. 

No, no, you really shouldn’t. But you were so fucked for him, for that smile, for that cocky little “gotcha” laugh that he always did when you followed him so blindly, without any hesitation. You were so in love. Fuck it.

“Unfortunately, Maty, I’d follow you anywhere.”

There was a rocky path leading from the sand up the side of the cliff, a natural staircase, or so it had seemed when you were younger and more imaginative. Mat grabbed your hand to help you up, his palm big and heavy against your own, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you used to make it up here as children. 

At the top, your eyes met the most beautiful sight, and, for once, it wasn’t just the man standing next to you. The moon had risen over the ocean, casting its cool glow across miles and miles of water. The water was dark and blue and lapping gently at the pool below you, and the air was still warm, though the rocks beneath your feet were finally cooling off. You both watched in silence for a few moments, taking in all the beauty of the scene before you and forgetting all about his hand in yours. 

“It’s certainly a lot smaller than I remember.” It was true, the rock definitely wasn’t as high as you pictured it to be. It was a high cliff, sure, but standing atop it was much less intimidating than facing your feelings for Mat. 

“Yeah, well, you were a lot smaller eleven years ago too.”

He snickered, his hand squeezing yours, perhaps subconsciously, or maybe in realization, he’d still been holding it. But he still didn’t let go, and neither did you. His face was warm, not that you’d ever notice, not in the dark. “Well, you’re about the same size.”

“Mat! Not true!”

“Yeah, it is.” He pulled you against his side like he always did in a little half-hug and laughed that beautiful laugh of his. After a few more moments of smiling silence, Mat hummed in thought. “Ya know what? I know what would make this jump a lot more fun.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Skinny dipping.” 

Your heart almost stopped when the words passed his lips. You hesitated to respond, laughing a little bit. “No, you’re not serious.”

“Yeah, I mean, no one can see us out here. There are no houses nearby. Only us.” It was tempting, so, so tempting, and Mat could tell you were right on the edge of saying yes. You were. “Listen, I’ll stay far away from you the whole time and I won’t even look at you, I promise. But we’re leaving soon, we'll probably never get another chance at this exact spot, and we’re twenty-one, twenty-two, let’s do something reckless. Let’s be stupid together. Yeah?”

You bit your lip, and Mat would never admit to you how much you turned him on at that moment alone, but he stored that image away for later tonight. You were considering it, but both you and Mat already knew you had made up your mind long ago.  

“Sure.”

“Yeah?”

You laughed, the excitement of doing something so scandalous and dangerous and intimate with him finally settling in. Mat smiled back at you, you both laughed and looked at each other with complete reckless abandon. There was nothing else to lose after this. Easily every shred of friendship would be gone. You couldn’t be just friends anymore. “Let’s be reckless.”

“Let’s go, baby!” 

“You first, though.” You stepped away from him and motioned towards his shorts, your heart pounding and cheeks hot. The smile on his face should’ve warned you that he wasn’t playing around here, but for some reason, you were still shocked at what he did next.

“Alright, fine.” You could feel a slickness between your thighs as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his shorts and smirked as he shimmied them down, making a great show of swaying his hips and biting his lip, trying and succeeding to be as sexy as possible. And though you jokingly laughed and pleaded for him to stop, the dull ache in your core only worsened when you caught just a glimpse of what lay beneath the fabric, at the end of that V shape in his hips. Your eyes shot up to the sky, your face red hot and shy when he lifted his swim trunks as proof and flung them towards your feet. 

“Ew, Mat!”

“Come on, your turn!” Your heart pounded and you couldn’t help the wave of self-consciousness. But Mat’s smile was addictive, and he made you so comfortable, comfortable enough to have you pulling Mat's hoodie over your head, letting it fall by your ankles and leaving you in your bikini.

“Turn around, Mat.” 

He raised his hands in surrender and smiled as he turned, and you couldn’t help but glance- for just one second- down at his toned thighs and ass. Wow…. “I know you’re staring, y/n/n.” 

“Wha- no!” 

“I don’t mind, babe. Look wherever you want. I'm all yours.” And his body shook with laughter as you undid the string of your top and slipped out of your bottoms and tossed the fabric towards his feet. You could see him do a double-take at the sight, as if he didn't believe you were serious about skinny dipping, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh, to busy marveling at his physique, the dark swoop of hair he kept running his hand through- a nervous habit you’d recognized as far back as 2008- the muscles of his back and shoulders, the dip at the small of his back, his toned ass, his thighs... He wasn’t even looking at you, but there was something about how you were so bare, so vulnerable, so close to him. Just the idea of his body and yours being so close and so primal, so exposed, and about to take this leap… something was stirring up a fire, a fire you'd put out later. Your fingers slipped down between your thighs momentarily, marveling at how hot Mat made you before they wiped hastily on your thigh and you stored those memories away for later that night. Your other hand curled into Mat’s again, and his fingers squeezed around yours at the contact, as if it was the most natural thing to do. The only thing against his body, besides your own skin, was the bracelet you had put all your love and energy into, all for him, and now you were standing on the edge, taking a final breath. About to jump. About to fall with him as hard as you’d already fallen for him.  

“You ready, Maty?”

“I think I should be asking you, pretty girl.” 

You hesitated, still a little nervous, trying to build up that excitement. “Countdown?” 

“Course. After three. Say it with me?”

“Okay." Your thumb smoothed over his hand, tightening your grip. "Three.”

“Two.” He squeezed back.

“One.” 

Mat gave a final, devilish smirk as he whispered “Jump.” and, with one of his iconic howls, your feet were off the ground. 

You felt so free, so vulnerable, so exposed, falling naked through the cool air, hands clammy and grasped against each other, shrieking in excitement and adventure. You had bared yourself to Mat, you had stripped yourself of any fears and leaped with him, as if each article of clothing that hit the ground was another shedded insecurity, another forgotten reason for hesitation. You’d pushed the boundaries until they couldn’t go any further, then said “fuck it” and tore the boundary away. There was a brief moment of fear as you hit the cold water, but the moment you resurfaced with a gasp to see Mat’s smiling face, his hair dark and saturated, dripping into his eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

You'd done it.

"Wow!"

“Right?” 

Your combined laughter filled the little inlet with squeals of glee as you splashed around with Mat. It wasn’t too deep, but deep enough that your feet couldn’t touch the bottom, and you instinctively gravitated towards Mat. You moved closer toward him, maybe subconsciously, as if your body craved his more than your mind would ever be able to comprehend. As if you were pulled to him by some force you couldn't control, the same way you'd found each other after 10 years apart, how you'd found yourselves here again, so close, so opened up and bare before each other, even after you'd both thought you'd wrecked any chances. How you had found the sunshine in Mat's smile again, even after the rain. 

"Was it worth it?" 

"Absolutely!" 

The water was cold, goosebumps were popping up along your arms and legs, and across Mat’s as well. And as you drew closer to him and reached out for his wrist, dragging your hand from the bracelt he wore so proudly, up the length of his arm, his hands reached for yours as well, looking for a lifeline as his smooth voice reached your ears. 

“You cold?” 

You nodded and ran your hands across the tight muscles of his biceps, warm despite the chilly air, and flattening them against his chest before bringing them up, up, up behind his neck to tangle in his dark, wet hair. Your breath hitched in your throat when Mat's hands dipped under the water to your waist, leaving a bit of space between your bodies and honoring his promise from earlier to stay away, but asking permission with his eyes. His big hands squeezing your waist was making your mind spin, and you could barely stutter out a quiet: “You?”

“Nah. Feels fine for me.” He grinned, "But I can help you." He pulled you ever so slightly closer, slowly, slowly, until you were flush with each other, your bodies slick and wet and warm in the cool water, every crevice and curve fitting against each other like puzzle pieces. Mat’s blown eyes traced over your face, from your eyes, down to your lips, and leaned down, pressing his face against your shoulder and pulling you as close as possible, bringing a knee up to prop you against him. He opened his hot mouth along your skin, leaving wet kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. Your chest was pressed flush against his, your nipples poking out hard against his skin, your hands in his wet hair, his big hands engulfing your waist with his touch, his knee inserted between your thighs to keep you against him, floating, weightless, against him. “Let me help?”

And God, how you wanted him to help.

It seemed as if every part of you was touching. Your skin was hot and wet and the sound of the gentle lapping of water against your bodies and on the shore made everything feel like a dream. Even more euphoric, though, was the way Mat's eyes- dark and needy- found yours, in the way you'd always seen in your dreams. The way you'd only seen in your dreams. Until now.

And then, finally, your mouths.

Your mouths collided hot and needy, open and wet and the furthest thing from chaste, wanting to swallow each other up, to ease the aches you had tried to bury so deep in your bodies. You wanted to get so lost in him that you’d never come back, so lost in him that for the rest of time it’d only be you and Mat and the ocean. Weightless, naked, and hot. And he wanted to bury himself in you, hide away from the rest of the world for just this night. He’d been craving it all week. And what he’d been craving was more than sex, it was the affection, the intimacy, the closeness of being with you, entangled with you, so gentle but so needy, giving in completely and finally- finally- letting your hearts take control. His tongue was slippery and warm against yours, and it felt, for a moment, as if this was meant to be.

“I would treat you so much better than he did.” Mat’s mouth was hot and wild and messy against yours, breathing against you and moaning out his confession. “I would be so much better. I’d fucking cherish you.” 

“Mathew.”

“Fuck, I’d take such good care of you.” 

“Mat, I want you.”

 “Fuck,” He groaned against you, rocking his body against yours gently. Your hands burnt his skin wherever you touched, your nails dragging along smooth, wet skin and leaving angry red lines in their wake, dragging down his sides, over his hard abs, right to that one forbidden area. “I want you so bad, baby.”

There were no more words, only hot, aching silence as Mat held you against him. You were slick between your thighs, even under the water you could feel that familiar warmth, the tingling in your belly at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his face against yours, his nose pressed against your cheek as his lips ravaged yours, his tongue delving into the crevices of your mouth to taste you, to feel every part of you. His hands slid to your ass and pulled you as close as possible, molding your skin against his and gluing you to him with the passion. You could feel his desire, hard and swelling and needy between your bodies, and you wanted him. You wanted him more than anything. 

“Stop, stop, stop.” 

Mat, always concerned with you before anything else, pulled away, his eyes wide and worried, his hands dropping you back into the water, where you pushed yourself back as fast as you could, trying to catch your breath. “What?”

“We can’t.” 

He said nothing else, but nodded and stepped away from you, averting his eyes, his face hot and his head spinning. Fuck, he was still aching. But you took your chance to wade to shore and scramble up the rocks to collect your clothes and hide yourself again. You were shaking, trying to shake away the shame flooding through your body at what you just did. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did you have to do that? Why did you do something that stupid? If last night didn’t ruin your friendship, tonight certainly did.

Mat was standing in the sand at the bottom of the cliff, turned away from you, trying to even out his breathing, and you brought his swim trunks down as a courtesy, the least you could do. “Thanks.” His voice was choked up, strained, and he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck before pulling them back on.

The walk home was silent, but not silent in the way that it had been earlier, comfortable and warm. There was no hand-holding, no smiles, no funny small talk. Only pain and heartbreak. Both your minds were struggling to process the last hour. Why had you decided to leave the house tonight? Why did you let yourself take it that far? How could you ruin something so amazing? How many chances would you give each other before giving up and never spoke again?

You almost ran up the porch into the house and to your bedroom, as Mat followed silently behind. Your bedroom door was already locked, you were already hidden beneath the covers, tears in your eyes and hands between your thighs with the thought of Mat paguing your mind, when Mat made it to his, glanced across the hallway at your door, and finally hid himself away.

He wished he didn’t feel this way, he wanted nothing more than to love you as a friend, but the same as every other night, Mat fell asleep with you floating through his mind. Only this time, it was more than your image. It was the smell of you, your burning touch, your sweet taste as your tongue danced against his own, imprinted on his brain, daring him to even try to think of another woman ever again. He bit his tongue as he jerked his desire desperately into his hand, holding back his moans and his cries as he spared one last thought to you before spilling out and letting the tears stream down his hot cheeks. 

And he fell asleep, sticky and shameful and, like always, thinking of you. 

[angelicjadamv]

The story so far

One month after graduating high school in 2015 I was finally able to move away from my family. I was 18 and moved to California for college. Fortunately one of the scholarships I earned was accompanied by a summer program that started in the middle of the summer before fall semester. Shortly after settling in a safe, stable environment for the first time in my life I started to get better. A lot better at first. Then life happened, as it does, and 18 years of repressed trauma and abuse broke me. My nervous breakdown ruined my fall semester, I couldn't go to classes or take exams or function as a student anymore. Until this point, being an exceptional student was all I had and basically how I survived. My safe and stable environment now was dependant on maintaining a certain GPA, among other requirements I could no longer meet. I failed one of my main courses because I had a 0 on 2 exams, including the final. When I went home I was put on antipsychotics. Returning to campus for the 2016 spring semester, I attempted to seek more therapy. I wasn't successful in finding a good therapist (for me, therapy is a personal thing. Just because someone isn't a good therapist for me doesn't necessarily mean they are a bad therapist). I did continue to see my 2 psychiatrists (emergency and regular) often as they attempted to adjust my medication to find something that work. My agoraphobia worsened, I stopped sleeping, I could barely eat, I was manic one moment and dissociative the next, SH and suicidal ideation worsened. I was a burden to my friends and loved ones. I made it through this because I had a beautiful support system that I will forever be grateful for, but I ended up taking a leave of absence academically for my second semester, earning no credits and putting my scholarships at further jeopardy. I was allowed to stay on campus because it was clear I was dangerously unstable with no safe environment to return to and because I had incredible advocates looking out for me. I had realized that I wasn't going to get better in time to salvage my academic career and my life, and was mostly clueless as to how I would survive. I had had an internship in my field since I started college, but I earned basically no money. STEM internships aren't really made to be livable for undergrads, so I had mostly been working for experience in a field I would no longer be able to progress in. Bummer. My physical health had taken a huge dive for all of 2016. I basically always knew I was chronically ill, but I had been abused and gaslit my entire life to believe and act like I was fine, I was just a weak baby, I didn't know what real pain or suffering was, seizures were to be ignored, no I didn't have migraines or pinched nerves (um hello SCOLIOSIS), etc etc. And 2016 was the year my body finally started to break, so I knew "regular" jobs weren't going to be a viable option for me, at least not for long.

And thus I became a survival SW. I stayed in college for a final semester, because I didn't want to miss my friends, I loved my campus and didn't know where else to live, I still needed a lot of campus resources. I also kept my internship as long as I could, because I knew I would miss it for the rest of my life. I didn't really go to classes, again, because as much as a desperately wanted to and as much as my advisors moved heaven and earth to try to make it work for me, I couldn't handle it. I was finally able to find 2 great therapists who I started seeing regularly who actually knew how to diagnose and treat me, one at school and one outside. This is also when I met Daddy (Jace) online. After talking for what is probably a stupidly short time, we fell in love and started dating. This is honestly my first real relationship and time actually catching genuine feelings for someone, something that I hadn't thought I was capable of. Despite being happier than I had ever been in so many ways, my mental and physical health was still steadily declining. My migraines and pain were getting worse, I hadn't been able to eat normally in months and relied entirely on medication to eat or sleep at all. Many people recommended mmj at this point in my life, but I was afraid of how it would interact with my other meds. I only smoked occasionally at parties at this point (because no way was I spending my super duper limited money on weed). I wonder if medicating with something that actually worked well for me, like weed, would have allowed me to finish college. Oh well I guess. Because of my inability to attend classes, I had to take another leave for the fall semester 2016. I worked at a strip club briefly, but my health couldn't handle it for long.

I didn't want to go home for the first winter break in 2015, but campus closed and I had nowhere else to go. It was turbulent. When summer 2016 came, I still didn't go home despite having no place to stay. Until a month or so later, it was revealed to me a relative had terminal cancer. I had to go home again. It was worse than turbulent. When winter 2016 came, my relative was in much worse condition. They only had a few months left, and this was probably my last chance to say goodbye. This visit was by far the most traumatic, and more because of my parents than watching a loved one die. At least Jace was able to come meet me for the first time in person. He also got to meet my relative before they passed 🖤

Freshly fucked up by family, I retuned to California at the beginning of 2017. I was mostly taking a break from SW because of my health and was working vanilla jobs as I could (so not much). I had a pretty decent job that I was really good at and had been promoted, but then my relative passed. I started losing consciousness again ( I had many seizures and fainting spells in my childhood and during high school) and had to quit my job. the funeral was in spring 2017, I flew to Jersey to be with Daddy for a few days and then he drove me several states over for the memorial. That was the last time I saw my family. I wanted to transition to online/content creating, but I had no tech knowledge or equipment (even my phone was a potato). In high school I wasn't allowed to have a smartphone, most social media other than what was heavily monitored (and still had 0 experience with platforms sw is popular on besides Tumblr I guess), I didn't really know much about cameras. Way too sheltered and broken to feel like I could start anything. I was now seeing my outside, or I guess regular and only, therapist twice a week and doing treatments that while working for me were insanely (literally) hard. I had been able to get an apartment with roommates at a super discount in return for taking care of their crazy dog, which was a win win for me (he was a good boi just crazy from a bad past and had the worst separation anxiety). The agreement was that I would live with them until the lease was up in September, and then we would reevaluate the situation. Then they both got promoted at their mega corporation jobs. And after their wedding found a really gorgeous apartment in a much fancier part of the city, and paid to break our lease early in June leaving me homeless. I had been fired from my last 2 jobs (probably for being disabled because California is at will employment but who knows I might have been fired from the nanny job because the husband wanted to fuck me). I had no money or anywhere to go. All of my friends were almost as broke as me, so while I had offers to couchsurf at a few of their places they had other roommates who would have been pissed and in a few months they would be going back to school anyways. Daddy and I had been trying to save up to move in together for months, but he was going to move to California. We didn't have any money for that, so instead he asked me to move in with him in New Jersey. Leaving meant I lost my health insurance and my therapist. It was supposed to be much more temporary and we were supposed to move back to California much sooner than we were able to. I try not to be mad at those roommates because being angry doesn't change anything, but it really sucked.

Moving in with Daddy meant we could start our blog! And I was super happy at first, the happiest I could ever remember. But the years had been too hard and my health started to get worse than ever before. Without treatment and so traumatized, my brain and body were constantly at war. I would wake with splitting migraines, throwing up, my chronic pain became completely unmanageable. I started to need weed all the time because it was the only thing that stopped my cyclical vomiting episodes and kept me out of the hospital. My antipsychotics and other meds had been high-key fucking me up (probably shouldn't have been on them in the first place, thank you doctor who also ignored my seizures even when I had one in front of you) and were almost impossible to come off of because the withdrawals. (Seriously, kicking xanax was easier for me than my antipsychotics.) I'm not anti medication or anything, I just know the ones I was on were not good for me anymore. I'd actually like to be on something again, I just need a doctor who actually understands PTSD and DID.

My health continued to be shit for most of 2018, with several ER visits for severe dehydration from vomiting for days on end. We started to make videos and do snapchat and online sessions to be able to make ends meet. Despite being in the worst situation and thus everything being a trizillion times harder, we really loved (and still love 😇) doing SW and creating content. Our fans and clients have been there in some of our darkest moments, just being lovely or pulling through for us when we needed it most. During 2018 and 2019 I became actively suicidal for the first time since I was 13. I struggled with self harm again. I have gotten worse than I ever thought possible. But I wouldn't have made it at all if it wasn't for SW, this community and our supporters.

At the beginning of 2020 we were finally able to move back to California. Obviously, the pandemic severely disrupted many of our plans, especially regarding my recovery. Despite things being delayed or shifted, we are in a much better place currently. I have what I need to get better and I can build a support system again. I will get better.

Talking about things is hard for me. Being open and honest is hard for me. For 18 years I was trained and abused to not be sad or show negative feelings, or talk about upsetting things, and it has been killing me slowly my entire life. I genuinely don't want pity or to make others feel bad, but I do want to give you the chance to get to know me. I don't always talk about things so much. But I'm trying to get better at it.

[raysofcrosby]

LITTLE DO YOU KNOW PT. 11

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵." ━ 𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

gif credit (x)

series masterlist

requested: yes | no

warnings: a nice heart to heart, some fluff and hoenstly nothing else.

word count: 9,128 [of PURE UNEDITED STORY WOW ITS SO LONG]

authors note: HI hi everybody! part 11 is finally here woooo! this is honestly where i had originally planned on ending the series and i hope you guys enjoy what would have been the original ending! i can’t believe this series is practically over bc i loved writing it so much and reading all of your guys’ theories, messages and tags. it literally warms my heart how much you guys loved it! so without further ado, here’s part 11!

[ DECEMBER 23RD, 2019 ]

By the time you made it to Victoria, you were exhausted. Your flight had been delayed twice and almost canceled due to the weather, but luckily you made it home before you could end up on Jamie and Katie's flight. By the time you had landed, your mom had texted you mid-flight saying that Jordie would be picking you up and gave you no reason as to why. The moment you read her text, you realized it was too late to turn back and go hop on to another plane– so it looked like facing Jordie was your only option. It's not like you knew if he was as angry at you as Jamie was. You were the one ignoring his text messages, not the other way around. When you found him just outside of security, you felt like you were going to be sick, and every step you took towards him was spent preparing yourself for the speech he was probably going to give you.

The one thing that you didn't expect though, was for him to wrap you up in a tight hug without even saying a word. You stood there, stiff in his arms for only a moment before wrapping your arms around him and returning his hug. There was a significant age gap between you and all three siblings, all three of them were out of the house by the time you were 10-years-old. But if there was one sibling you were close to growing up, it was Jordie. Sure, you and Jamie were close too, especially with the two of you being in Dallas most months out the year. And sure, Jenn was always the best big sister to you, giving you advice on things you could never go to your parents to. But Jordie, he was the ultimate sibling. He was always on your side, no matter what choices you made but was also never afraid to call you out on your bullshit– and of course, always helped you find a way to fix it. So his hug, his hug made you feel the most relaxed you had felt since everything well to hell.

That car ride home was when he asked you how everything had been, especially since you've been dodging his calls. And while you didn't want to just throw Jamie or Tyler under the bus, the words and feelings just poured out of you. You filled in the holes and gaps that Jamie hadn't told him from beginning to end. And while he did let you know that he thought you and Tyler could have found a different way to deal with things, you could also see that he was pissed at Jamie for treating you the way that he had. Your family had one rule that all of you abided by:

you always loved and supported each other, no matter what.

When you got home, Kennedy was there to greet you along with your parents and Jordie's fiancé Jessi, and you guys all hung out together until about midnight when you and Kennedy went to bed since you were going to be showing her around Victoria tomorrow morning and afternoon. Of course, the two of you stayed up a little later as she caught you up on how her few days with her parents were and what they had gotten her for Christmas. While you filled her in on what it was like to be Big Rig's roommate, your guys' future spring break plans with Paisley and of course, your big blow up on Tyler in the hallway. You felt proud when you told her how you got everything off of your chest that you needed to and even more proud when you saw the look on her face. The one thing you weren't expecting from her though, is her suggestion that maybe you do hear him out at some point in time when the two of you were back in Dallas again.

And as the two of you fell asleep, you didn't want to admit that you had been thinking the same thing from the moment you left that hallway.

❒❒❒❒

Jamie and Katie had gotten in a few hours after everyone went to bed. As far as you knew, they were greeted by the lone kitchen light your mom always left on if someone was expecting to come home late. They were still sleeping when everyone met downstairs for breakfast and by the time that they had a chance to wake up and come downstairs, you dragged Kennedy out of the house and gave her a tour of your hometown.

You managed to avoid Jamie up until dinner time when you had no choice but to come home. You greeted Katie like you hadn't just seen her yesterday and Jamie was too wrapped up in a conversation with your mom to even warrant a greeting. Dinner was probably as awkward as it could get. Sure, the conversation flowed easily from topic to topic: the hockey season, how life in LA was going, how Jessi's parents were doing, what our predictions were when Jenn and Andrew would welcome a new baby into the world, whether or not Kennedy and I were prepared for the real world after college– it was all so easy.

Except, as expected, there were those small pockets of awkward tension whenever a small silence fell over the table or something having to do with Dallas ever popped up into question. Leave it to your dad of all people to be the one to bring up the Winter Classic and of course, Tyler in a not so obvious way. He had said he'd been talking to Paul that he had asked if both families were going to get together for a dinner after the game. You could see the vein in Jamie's forehead beginning to bulge and you shot your mom and Jordie a desperate look. When she gave you a shoulder shrug back, it was then that you looked at your father and realized he knew damn well what he had done.

No one gave him an answer, so he answered it himself and said that they were already making reservations and the rest of dinner went by uneventfully. Your mom had made her holiday chocolate mousse pie and your group sat around in the living room in front of the tv and watched, like tradition, some Hallmark movies. But as the time got later, everyone started to go off to bed. You agreed to go up but laid there, staring at your ceiling as Kennedy was fast asleep next to you. You tried everything to make yourself fall asleep, but it just wasn't happening.

You sighed and quietly snuck out of bed, putting on your slippers before opening your bedroom door and walking out into the hallway. You walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, turning on the kitchen light and grabbing yourself a clean glass that was in the drying rack. There was a drink that your dad had made you and your siblings whenever you guys were sick. And sure, you weren't sick right now, but the warm drink and the hint of alcohol would be enough to make you feel a little more sleepy than you were at this very moment. You grabbed the makers mark whiskey from beneath the kitchen island and the rest of your ingredients from around the kitchen. You remembered the first time you had to drink it. Both you and Jamie had managed to catch a winter cold and your dad made you share the same cup. Jamie's twisted face of disgust was one that still made you laugh to this day whenever you thought back on the memory. And as you finished making the drink, you smiled only for a second before remembering where your relationship with Jamie stood today.

You walked into the living room and grabbed a canucks sweatshirt that Jordie had left hanging on the back of the couch and put it on before walking back into the kitchen, grabbing your drink and then making your way out onto the back porch. You turned the light on from inside before unlocking and sliding open the door, closing it behind you. The snow blanketed your backyard and as you looked out at the untouched scene, you played home movies in your mind. Over there in the far left corner, was where your parents had managed to keep alive an old playground set that Jamie and Jordie spent years fighting on. The ancient oak tree nestled in the right corner of your fenced-in backyard was where you broke your arm for the first time. You were eight and Jamie had held you on top of his shoulders so you could reach the hole that he had hidden his report card in from your parents. He lost his footing and the two of you fell backward, your arm taking most of the impact.

The fire pit buried beneath the snow where you had your first 'official' date at fourteen the summer after Jamie's second season with the stars. You parents were out of town, Jenn was on a vacation with Andrew, so it was left to Jordie and Jamie to look after you. Your mom had already told them that they had no authority when it came to canceling your date– but in fact, they were in charge of chaperoning it. Jordie took you guys to a movie and sat ten rows back, which wasn't all that bad considering you were too nervous to do anything anyway. But when it came to having a small bonfire in the backyard, you and your date were more comfortable with each other. If only your brothers were the same.

Every time he tried to scoot his chair near yours, one of the two older Benn boys would come out with water, food or even just straight-up move your chair further away. You would turn and see the two of them peeking from the sliding door and give them the death stare before they ducked back behind a curtain. The last straw was drawn when you thought you had a free moment to have your first kiss. Jordie and Jamie hadn't come out to bother the two of you when you moved into the same seat or when he held your hand. But the moment you and your date closed your eyes and went in for a kiss, Jamie shoved a bag of marshmallows in between you and said, "it's time for smores yeah?"

You were so horrified that you had your date call his mom to come and pick him up and he had to sit in the living room with your two older brothers while you hid away in your bedroom.

Thinking back on it now, you couldn't help but laugh at just how far your two brothers went to protect you. You even tried to tie that into your situation today– but it was hard to even draw up the similarities.

When you heard the door slide open and shut again and a presence appears behind you, it didn't take long to know just who had joined you on the front porch. "How did you know I was out here?"

"I saw the hot toddy stuff on the counter and I know how you like to come out here to think sometimes." He replied, letting the silence fall between you again before making his way closer to you and coming to a stop beside you, clearing some snow off of the deck ledge and resting his arms onto it– he too was holding his drink. "I'm not sick, but it just hits the spot for when you can't sleep."

"I thought the same thing," you replied, looking at him to see him looking out at the backyard.

You wondered if he was looking out into your old childhood backyard and thinking about all of the memories like you were. Or if he was just staring out for the hell of it, trying to think of what to say to you. Hell, you didn't even know if you were going to be able to start a conversation– you sure as hell didn't feel like you needed to. The fact that he had ignored you up until this very moment was almost enough to make you finish your drink and leave him out on the back porch without a word.

Almost.

"Why are you even talking to me?"

You could tell by his slight wince at the harshness of your question, that he was caught off-guard. Perhaps he was planning to initiate the conversation after all? He took a sip of his drink, sucking in his bottom lip before sighing, hanging his head. "Jordie. He was waiting up for Katie and me and when I came back downstairs, he kind of ripped me a new one about what I said to you..."

A huge wave of disappointment washed over you. Was Jamie only talking to you out of obligation to Jordie or was he really interested in fixing things between the two of you? Would your relationship ever be the same again?

"Oh..." You frowned, looking away from him and down at your cup.

"And he's right. I shouldn't have said what I did." His answer caught your attention and you looked at him as he nodded his head from side to side. "I know that you're...a woman now and that you can make your own decisions, no matter how wrong I think they are."

If it wasn't such a serious and long-awaited moment, you would've burst into laughter at how he had whispered the last part. Just Jamie being Jamie and still owning up to his own beliefs while trying to apologize.

"And it was wrong of me to insinuate that you were just another..."

He didn't need to be looking at you for you to see how severely uncomfortable he was starting to feel at repeating his own words. So, like he often did when you were growing up, you stepped in to save him. "It's okay, I know what you mean. And I'm sorry....for everything."

He didn't respond and only kept looking down at his drink as your apology went unnoticed and the silence settled in between the two of you again. You couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be it– the way the two of you would be around each other for the rest of your lives. Sure, the freshness of it all would wear down the road– but the two of you would never forget what started it all. It'd be there like a stain you'd always try to hide, but never could. And if he wasn't going to add on to your conversation, you were stuck– unsure of what else to do to get him to talk to you.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

For some reason, that question hurt you more than seeing his face the moment he recognized you in Tyler's theatre room. It wasn't as if you were planning on hiding it forever, you were going to tell him. And not telling him before he found out, was going to be your biggest regret for a long time– especially since you could hear just how hurt he was just by hearing him ask that small, simple question.

"I think I was scared of what you'd think...or do," you shrugged, taking another sip of our drink before holding onto it tighter, letting the hot cup heat your hands. "I didn't want you to be mad at me or hate me–"

"Yeah, well look at how that turned out," he mumbled, bringing his cup to his mouth.

You traced your tongue along the side of your cheek and ignored the sting of his hushed words. He had a right to be hurt and you knew it, so you were just going to take it and hope that it was the first choice he was feeling and not the second.

"I guess I just...I didn't want you to be disappointed in me, you know? You're my big brother, I look up to you. I should've told you, I understand that now and I guess I...I don't know."

"Yeah, you should've told me." He replied, finally looking away from his cup and turning towards you. "I still would've been mad, but I'd be a lot less mad than I was when I...found you two."

He turned his attention back towards the snow as the two of you took another sip of your drinks. He sighed, probably making the same face as he did when he was a kid. More silence ensued, but this time it wasn't full of tension. Almost like the kind of silence the two of you could live with as if you were hanging out in the living room, playing on your phones.

"How have you been since...how are you?"

You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you stood up a little straighter. You weren't sure if he was really interested or asking just for the hell of it, but you were going to answer anyway as best as you could without giving too much away. "Alright, I guess," you sighed, bringing the cup back to your lips and leaning your head to the side. "Kind of wishing none of it ever happened?"

"Really?" Jamie asked, perking up a little bit as he looked at you again.

You went to answer, but the knot in your throat prevented you from doing so, so you just brought your cup to your lips and took a sip.

He sighed and you knew that he was well aware that you had just lied to him. "I was mad, Y/N. Like, the maddest that I've ever been in my entire life. Seeing you two like that, knowing you guys had been...and behind my back." He shook his head, taking a moment. "I honestly think I could've killed him then and there, and you...for a hot moment, I think I would've been one hundred percent okay if I never had to talk to you or see you again."

For the first time, you finally understood just how hurt Jamie had been and how seriously he took your situation with Tyler. His confession threw you for a surprise. He really would have been okay with never talking to or seeing you again– your own brother. The guy who was always one of the first people to comfort you. Who let you sneak into his room when you were younger because you were scared of the dark. The same guy who, once you stopped sneaking into his room thanks to a new nightlight, often slept on the floor of your bedroom because you were convinced there was a monster in your closet. His confession was enough to move you to tears and you couldn't have stopped them if you tried.

"I'm sorry," you nodded, shaking your head as your bottom lip trembled. "I-I didn't mean to hurt you and I swear everything with Tyler it just...it came out of nowhere." You took a shallow breath before going to speak again, only a small sob escaped instead.

Jamie turned slightly and stepped closer to you, bringing you into his side and rubbing your arm. He wasn't tense at the sudden hug, but instead relaxed and welcoming. "It's okay, Y/N," he said, not minding that you were getting tears on his sweatshirt. "I mean, I don't understand why you felt like you needed to hide it from me, but I do understand why you did. And I've forgiven you for it."

You sniffled, wiping your cheeks with Jordie's sweatshirt sleeve. "And Tyler?"

He paused and you could hear him holding onto his breath as he contemplated how to answer your question. He let you go from his side and sighed as the fear that you just ruined a six-year friendship, ran through your veins. "I don't know yet."

The two of you settled back in your spots on the deck ledge and sipped your drinks in silence as you both stared out at the falling snow. You got your apology, Jamie was finally acknowledging you and you can no longer feel the tension between the two of you...but something still felt off.

"Were you happy?" Jamie asks, turning towards you fully and resting an elbow on the ledge. "With Segs. Were you happy with him?"

You couldn't help but smile as you thought about all of the times you'd spent with Tyler over the last few weeks. All of the study sessions, the times you'd babysit the dogs. His facetime calls just so he could talk to you and Gerry. How you snuck him on to campus one night because he 'wanted to experience the college dorm life' and then only to have him leave the next morning saying that college beds were horrible and that you'd be sleeping at his place for the rest of the year. The time he added bubble bath to his jacuzzi because he's always wanted to do it, but then decided he'd never do it again because of the bill he had to pay to get it cleaned. Every moment was happy and giggly and left you feeling things that you haven't felt in years– not even in your few years with Cole.

"Yeah," you nodded, letting the smile fall when you looked Jamie in the eye. "Really happy."

"Why?"

You laughed softly at just how blunt Jamie's question was and how serious and bland his tone had been. You shrugged, holding your cup close to you. "I don't know how to explain it, really. I mean, we have chemistry–"

"No, please don't get into that."

"Not only that kind," you rolled your eyes. "It's like...we just get each other, you know? With Cole, it was like he never cared about my interests, my friends or my family. He didn't have the interest to know what I want to do in five years, where I want to travel. We didn't have the same sense of humor and when I'd chirp at him, he couldn't handle it."

"With Tyler," you laughed, tossing your head back softly before nodding and pointing at Jamie. "Do you remember that first roadie I went on with you guys? To Colorado? Well, on the plane ride there I had to fill out study cards, but I fell asleep. On the plane ride back, I found them already made in Tyler's messy handwriting that he tried to make neat, and he helped me study by letting me use him as an anatomy doll. I taped notecards all over him while the guys in the back of the plane laughed, and he just...let it happen. He even tried to learn it too."

You took a long sip of your drink, reminiscing on that first moment when you realized how much Tyler had meant to you. "He already loves and knows my family and my friends, but he still asks about them. Those first few weeks, he asked more about me than Cole had ever asked during our entire relationship. Not to mention, he can take my chirping and give it right back. He's saved me in a bar, picked me up at a party when I was stranded with no ride. He respects me, my choices, he understands that I'm an independent woman who can stand up for herself because she had two older brothers who taught her how to hold her own. But he's still...there, you know?"

Jamie looked at you in silence but seemed as if he was taking your words into serious consideration. Speaking about your time with Tyler made you sad and realize just how much you missed having him in your life. You haven't heard anything from him since the text he sent to you before the game and you figured that he was mad at you because you lied and told him you were staying instead of leaving. You wouldn't allow yourself to even being to imagine how his face looked when he walked into the hallway to see that you weren't there.

"It doesn't matter though, it's over. Tyler probably hates me and...it's over, it's all over." You sighed and chugged the rest of your drink, letting out a harsh sigh before pushing yourself away from the ledge. "I'm going to bed though, I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

You turned to walk away and towards the door, tugging on the handle and sliding it open. "Do you want it to be over though?" Jamie asked. "If you could be with him right now...would you?"

You held onto the handle and turned around to look at Jamie. "I love him, J." He opened his mouth to cut you off, but you shook your head. "And I know you think I'm stupid for saying that...and no, I don't know if we would've last or if it was just a short fling...but I do, J. I love him with my whole heart."

You stared at him, trying your best to get a read on his reaction as he just looked at you and registered your words while hoping more than anything, that he'd come to accept your feelings for Tyler. He sucked in his lips and nodded before turning back towards the backyard. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You felt disappointment come over you, a shallow ache echoed in your chest as you made your way back into the house, closing the door behind you. You placed your cup into the sink and tossed Jordie's sweatshirt onto the kitchen counter before walking up the stairs and back into your bedroom. You crawled back into your bed, the hot toddy making your body warm as you tried to focus on your breathing and the tears built up. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying not to wake Kennedy when another sob escaped.

You felt Kennedy shift and roll onto her side, reaching out and grabbing your hand. "Tyler?"

"Pfft, what?" You sniffled, shaking your head. "No, why would you think that?"

"Because you have 'The Summer I Turned Pretty' trilogy on your bedside table– and you always read it when you're sad."

You went to take another deep breath, only letting out a shuddered one. "Because it has a happy ending...stupid happy endings."

"Yeah, who needs happy endings," Kennedy replied, squeezing your hand.

"Me!" You cried, sniffling as you turned to Kennedy and laughing at how ridiculous you probably looked. "I want one."

Kennedy sighed, squeezing your hand again and staring at the ceiling. "I know, I know."

[ DECEMBER 25TH, 2019 ]

A Christmas Miracle, that's all you could call it. It was as if some Christmas Angel had been watching you and Jamie have your late night heart to heart, because since then– it was like the blip between the two of you never even happened. Everyone was thrilled to see the two of you joking and talking to one another again, probably no one more thrilled than your mom. He even indulged in his yearly Hallmark Christmas movie argument with you, like he did every year.

And, like they've done every year on your birthday since you could even remember, your two older brothers found a way to toss you into a snowbank as a morning wake up. After the age of 13, you found it extremely annoying and always struggled against them as they'd carry you to the backyard. But considering everything that happened, you were more than willing to participate in the festivities. Since your birthday took place on Christmas, your family always had a specific Christmas routine.

The two older Benn boys would toss you into the snowbank, you'd change into the clothes that your mom already had set aside. Then you'd all eat your favorite breakfast (which Jamie and Jordie groomed you to love their favorite breakfast from the moment you had a choice), everyone would settle in with their coffee and drinks of choice before relaxing in the living room. As the birthday girl, you'd always get to open the first present and then everyone would do their gift exchanges. When gifts were done, your dad would put in the first one many original classic Christmas movies and you'd relax all day until the night came. At night, the family would gather up and drive a few blocks down to the Wilkinson's Christmas Tree farm for pond skating and hot chocolate.

It was always a fun-filled day, and besides you finally turning 22 years old, you loved the traditions the day brought and the love and happiness that radiated all around you. The best surprise came when you had Kennedy answer the door to her Christmas present. She squealed when she saw Big Rig standing there with a Santa hat on and a cheesy grin. And when she jumped into his arms and he spun her around on your front porch, your heart swelled with joy. You knew he was coming, the two of you had planned it sometime after Kennedy had gone home. His family was already planning on visiting extended family in Vancouver on Christmas and he thought he'd stop by around late-afternoon to surprise her.

When she found out you were in on the surprise, she tackled you with a hug and then told you that she hated you– but you just told her that you loved her too and to go get her man. As the day dwindled on, you saw how happy everyone was around one another and realized just how incredibly single you were. You looked down at your phone and opened your messages, staring down at Tyler's contact and re-reading his last message over and over again. You opened the message and took a deep breath, typing one up.

Merry Christmas ☃️🎄

You stared at the screen as the small delivered appeared beneath your message. When the three moving dots appeared on his side, you felt your heart skip a beat and the grip on your phone get a little tighter. Maybe he wasn't mad at you after all and was just giving you space to reach out to him?

All of that hope went away just as soon as the three dots disappeared. You felt yourself literally crumble as you hoped that they'd pop up again, but never did. You locked your phone and sighed, before joining your family outside so that you guys could head to the Wilkinson farm.

The Wilkinson's were longtime family friends who owned a Christmas tree farm that had been passed down through generations of family. Over time, instead of just selling Christmas trees, they would sell hot chocolate, have pictures with Santa for the kids, a little 'Elfs workshop' where you could buy small gifts, and in the middle of the space, not too far away from all the small festivities, was a frozen pond where you could go ice skating for the small price of $5 if you had your own skates and $7 if you needed to rent them.

It was a tradition to not only get your Christmas tree from the Wilkinson's but on Christmas night, to go ice skating out on the pond with the Wilkinson's and a few other families as well. It was probably your favorite part of the day because just being around all of the close families and skating around with the kids you grew up with was the best.

But at the moment, that wasn't looking all too cheery.

"Can you at least pretend to be excited?" Kennedy asked, closing the car door behind her. "The look on your face could melt Frosty the Snowman if he was around."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you replied, clasping your hands together. "Let me just smile and wave while I tag along on this," you looked around your group, counting everyone. "This eight-person date. Nothing makes me happier than being the ninth wheel around couples."

"I can be your stand-in, pretend boyfriend if you want?" Big Rig laughed, fixing his coat. "It'd make me look good since I'd have two beautiful girls on my arms."

"I can share," Kennedy laughed, hooking her arm through his. "You can look, but don't touch."

You smiled and rolled your eyes. "Don't worry, he's all yours Kennedy."

"Are you guys coming or no?" Jamie called out. The three of you turned to see the rest of your group already heading towards the small cabin where you would rent your skates.

"Ugh, let's just get this over with, yeah?" You groaned, walking ahead of them and stuffing your free hand into your jacket pocket. You normally weren't such a grouch, but your mood hasn't been the same since you sent that text to Tyler and knew that he had read it. You spent the entire car ride trying to tell yourself that it wasn't your fault– that even before you left the arena, you knew that the damage had been done.

You were just now seeing how life would be without Tyler in it like he used to be.

"Go ahead and go to the pond, Y/N. We're just going to grab some skates." Jordie said, waving you off in the direction towards the pond.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, holding up your skates. "Did I miss the part where the three NHL boys and two parents of NHL players...forgot their skates?"

Jamie rolled his eyes and stepped away from the counter where Tyler Wilkinson, your first crush and three years your senior, was chatting with your parents. He walked over to you and gave you a gentle nudge away from them all. "We're helping Katie, Jessi, Kennedy and Big Rig get skates. Just go snag us a bench before someone else takes one."

You nodded but mumbled incoherently beneath your breath as you walked through the path that leads you directly through the Christmas trees and out towards the pond. The farm itself was looking barren since it was Christmas and the Wilkinson's had sold every available tree that was for sale. The further you walked, the more you could begin to smell the freshness of the trees that still had time to grow until they would be sold in the Christmas's to come. Lined up on both sides of the path were string lights on poles, linking together to light the path.

The trees began to thin out as you came to the opening of the skating area. Strangely, there was no one else around, which was extremely odd since your family was already running a little late than normal and most of the time you guys weren't the first family here. You walked over to a bench and plopped down, getting ready to put on your skates when you noticed something spread along the ice. You turned back towards the path to see if anyone from your group was coming before reaching for your phone and calling Jamie.

Only it went straight to voicemail. You rolled your eyes and waited for his automatic message to finish before speaking. "Is this place closed because nobody else is here. There's also like," you sighed and stood up,  making your way over to the ice, carefully stepping on and sliding your way over to the object. "It's this shadow on the ice and hold on, I'm getting closer to it. It's– what the hell?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you moved closer to what was previously a dark spot on the ice. As you got closer to it– you saw it for what it was...a bottle of wine and a box of your favorite cookies. Surrounding them were printed out pictures positioned to spell something out.

'I'm Sorry'

You slowly moved closer to the pictures, carefully squatting down and picking one up to see it was a candid of you and Marshall snuggling on Tyler's couch. As you looked at the rest of them, you felt your chest flutter. They were all pictures of you. Some of them were selfies of you and Tyler, but most of them were candids of you doing simple things– napping on his lap, studying on the couch, tanning with the dogs, glaring at Tyler after he had spilled flour everywhere on one of the nights you made pizza. Every picture held a memory, all of them you remembered, but none you realized had been captures. Your eyes skimmed them all and landed on the last one that was propped up against the wine bottle and cookies. You reached forward and picked it up, bringing it closer to you before you laughed.

It was a picture of a night where you, Kennedy, Big Rig and Tyler were all hanging out at Tyler's place. Kennedy or Big Rig must have taken the picture because it was of you and Tyler sitting on the couch, obviously trying to cuddle and Gerry was trying to force his way between you while Cash was sprawled out across your lap and Marshall was lying on the floor in front of you, staring at his two brothers. Tyler was laughing and trying to push Gerry off while looking at you with the sweetest eyes and you just had your head tossed back into a full-on fit of laughter.

It was a perfect representation of what your relationship was like– always laughing and pure joy.

You heard someone else join you on the ice and you immediately knew who it was, just based on how the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and your heart pounded against your chest. "Hey, Y/N..."

You wanted to turn around and just run into his arms before the tears got the chance to fall down your face, but you reminded yourself of the hell he had put you through the last two weeks and for once, your body listened to your brain. "What are you doing here?"

You heard him move closer but kept your back to him, fearful that if you even got the tiniest look at him, your courage and defense would come crumbling down in an instant. "You didn't meet me after the game and I..." He sighed, frustrated, "we need to talk about everything."

"I meant what I said Tyler, you had two weeks to reach out to talk to me– to explain everything, but you never did. So why should I give you the chance to do it now?"

"You shouldn't, that's the thing." You hadn't expected him to agree with you if anything you expected him to plead his case and beg for a chance. "But if you do give me the chance...I'll take whatever time you give me."

You took a deep breath, your eyes looking down at the display that suddenly made complete sense. He had set this up on the ice. He had printed off these pictures he'd taken of you and saved– obviously you had meant something to him more than you previously thought. You cleared your throat and put the picture in your hand in your pocket as you brought out your phone and opened the timer. You set it for five minutes before turning around and showing him your screen and pressing the start button. "You've got five minutes."

You were right. One look at him and you wanted to run over to him and just fall into his arms. His hair was disheveled and curled. He was dressed down in jeans, sneakers and a Dallas Stars sweatshirt that you knew all too well. He was in his relaxed element and it was how you loved him the most.

"Okay five minutes, phew okay, um," He stuttered over his own words as he simultaneously struggled to get his hands out of his sweatshirt pockets. "I'm sorry that I never texted you after everything. I meant to– I even typed up a bunch of messages and I just...I never sent them because I don't– I don't know why. God, why is this so hard?" He groaned, rubbing his hands down his face.

"Four minutes."

"Shit, okay I guess I didn't text you because I wanted that to be a face to face conversation? I just, I didn't want to drop shit like that over a text. And the uber thing, God, I fucking wish I could take that back so much, Y/N. Cassidy and Candace even told me how much of a douchebag I was for that. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were just another side piece and I think, I think I was just in fucking shock over how everything just imploded right in front of me."

"Three." You said, taking a glance at your phone before looking back at him. He had maintained eye contact with you every moment he vented, which only made you more emotional. He was covering his bases well and the desperation in his voice and pain in his eyes helped you know that he was meaning every single word. But he still hadn't talked about the one thing you wanted him to explain most of all.

"You were right, about me still being that kid in Boston. I mean, I'm not– I don't want to be. I've worked hard on myself and I've grown up since being here in Dallas– a lot of that was because of Chubb–Jamie. And I think, I think I just panicked over losing not just you...but him too." He stepped closer to you, shaking his head. "I, he's one of my best friends, Y/N. And the pain of even thinking about not having you in my life was horrible– like that shit gave me a migraine. But losing the both of you? I don't think I could even fucking survive."

"Two minutes."

His eyes looked at your phone and you saw them widen in fear. He had so much to say and knew he was running out of time to say it, but couldn't quite phrase it just right. "That's why I didn't text, call or even talk to you in person to explain. I just– I wanted to fix things with Jamie and explain to him that what happened with us, that it wasn't malicious or a stupid hit it and quit it situation– that I actually cared for you and he just, he wouldn't listen."

"You called me an obsessed hook up in the locker room." You said, speaking for the first time other than reading out how much time he had left. "Care to explain that?"

He opened his mouth to speak and closed it, the pattern happening twice before he shook his head and tried to blink away the faint tears that shined in his eyes. "I was frustrated at your brother and that stupid comment Draisaitl made about you and me to Jamie and just," he stepped towards you reaching for your hand and grabbing on to it, staring at it when he realized you hadn't pulled away. "I didn't mean it, I'd never mean that. You're–"

"45 seconds." You said, pulling your hand away from his.

He blinked a few times before nodding his head and licking his lips. "I never invited Maisy to the game, she came herself with her boyfriend and his cousin and her roommate. She just picked those seats because she liked the view and her boyfriend had never been to a game before."

You wanted to ask how he knew that, but you knew there was really only one way he'd find out– he'd have to ask.

"I called her, that same night after the game. I was an honest ass about it too, wondering what the hell she was pulling and she told me everything. She was never there for me. I didn't invite her and I didn't buy her those tickets, Y/N. I would have never done that to you," he reached for you only this time his hand came up to your face. "You were never just a hook-up to me. You were so much more than that and I think that I even lo..." He paused, looking down as your phone timer rang, erupting in between the two of you and signaling that his time was over with. His Adam's apple bobbed as he looked back up at you with hope in his eyes. "You're still so much more to me than that," he whispered, his thumb brushing away a tear on your cheek that you hadn't even noticed started to fall down your cheek.

You took a small step away from him, holding up your phone. "Five minutes is up. Tha–" you cleared your throat and took a breath, relaxing yourself. "Thank you for explaining everything."

He sucked in his bottom lip and nodded his head taking a step back and stuffing his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. "It's the least I could do after putting you through all of that. Thank you for letting me talk, I know you didn't have to do that."

He turned to walk away and paused mid-step, smiling at you. "Happy Birthday by the way. 22 years old? God, what are you an old lady now?" He added a sad mimic of his usual glowing childlike smile.

You gave him a small smile back. "Better than 27 and having joints that crack like an 80-year-olds every time I walk."

He laughed a small and genuine laugh before giving you one last look and turning his back to you, shuffling his way across the ice slowly. You watched him walk away, your heart screaming not to let him go while your brain was wondering how the hell he even got here in the first place. When you went to put your phone back into your pocket, you felt the picture and a quick flashing memory of that day and every day in between, passed by your eyes. The smiles, the laughter, the way you felt comfortable and safe in his arms– you missed it all.

"Tyler, wait! You called out, causing him to stop before he could even get that far away. He turned as you started to shuffle your way across the ice the short distance he managed to travel. "These pictures," you brought out the photograph and pointed at the rest. "Where did you get them?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, digging into his pocket and bringing out his phone. He typed away on it before turning it handing you his phone and showing you an album that had been strictly dedicated to you, the dogs and himself.

Titled: 💚🌎

"Honestly, when you rightfully chewed me out in the hallway, I just had this gut feeling that it was over and that maybe I should delete the photos but," he leaned over and looked at the screen, shrugging his shoulders. "As you said, my times with you were some of the greatest memories I've had in Dallas. And even if you didn't want anything to do with me anymore...I still wanted to keep those. Because to me, these pictures," he pointed at the screen and smiled at you. "Those are my favorite memories, the ones that never fail to make me smile. You're my favorite memory of Dallas, Y/N. Not the partying, the people I've met or the fancy events I go to. But you."

You scrolled through the album and saw even more pictures than the ones he had printed out and your heart was feeling like it could just erupt. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes and your bottom lip trembling. "You really hurt me Tyler..."

"I know," he said, shaking his head and the pain and understanding in his eyes evident. "And I will never fucking forgive myself for that, Y/N. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to say 'fuck you' and kick my dumbass to the curb and never talk to me again." He stood closer to you, closing up any space between your bodies. "And if by some Christmas miracle, you decide to forgive me and give me a second chance...I'd do anything to make it right."

"Anything?" You asked, looking up at him to see him nodding. "Can I have my '#1 labrador mom' keychain back? I miss my puppers."

He laughed and pulled the lanyard along with his house key out of his sweatshirt pocket. "They miss you too, almost as more as I do. Keyword, almost." He handed you the keychain and looked back at you with hopeful eyes. "Anything else?"

You held onto the lanyard tightly and nodded. "Kiss me?"

This time, his real smile took over his face as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him, pressing a kiss to your lips. You wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him into, savoring the kiss before tucking your head into the crook of his neck and closing your eyes. He wrapped his other arm around your waist before picking you up and spinning you around in a daring circle.

"Tyler, no skates!" You squealed, holding onto him tighter as he put you back onto the ice.

He smiled at you, catching his breath before ducking down and kissing you once, twice, three times and pulling you back into his chest. "I missed you so fucking much, Y/N."

"Say it." You said, looking up at him and resting your chin on his chest. "What you were going to say before the timer went off."

He gave you a knowing smile before brushing a piece of hair out of your face and resting his hand on the back of your head. "I love you."

You smiled and jumped up and more into his arms, knocking him off of his feet and onto his ass. The two of you laughed as you straddled over him and pressed another kiss to his lip while your left hand, still holding onto the lanyard, cradled his face. "I love you too." You whispered, feeling his grip around your waist tighten.

He smiled, nudging his nose against your own. "I know."

"OKAY LOVEBIRDS, GET OFF THE ICE SO WE CAN SKATE, EH?" Big Rig yelled out, causing the two of you to look over and see that you had an audience waiting for you at the edge of the pond.

You felt your heart hammer against your chest as you saw Jamie standing there with Katie. You were nervous about what he thought about Tyler's trip here on Christmas to rekindle what you guys had started months earlier. Tyler took the initiative to stand up first, helping you off of the ice and dusting you off before holding onto the hand and leading the two of you to the edge of the pond.

"I forgot to ask," you said, looking at him as he stepped off of the pond first. "How did you even know I was going to be here?"

Before Tyler could say anything, he was cut off. "I called him." You turned to see Jamie stepping towards you and not stopping until he was standing directly in front of you and Tyler. "After my conversation with Jordie and then talking to you...I reached out to him."

You looked at Tyler who gave you a smile and a nod. "We talked everything out and he told me to come out here."

"You helped him plan this?" You asked, looking at Jamie with a confused look.

"Cassidy, Candace and I helped him plan the pictures, cookies, and wine," Kennedy smiled, snuggling into Big Rig's side. "But everything else was him."

"I wouldn't say everything else. I just got him here and kept everyone back at the skate rental." He said, looking back at Kennedy and then at Tyler. "But the rest was Seggy."

You looked at Jamie and tried to read him. There wasn't any tension in his stance towards Tyler, nor was he sending him secret death glares. Instead, he had the same protective brother energy radiating off of him like he did on your first date or around any other guy who tried to date you.

And for the first time ever, you didn't care.

You rushed from Tyler's side and practically tackled Jamie with a hug, squeezing him as tight as you had your eyes shut. He hugged you just as tight, even lifting you off of the ground just a tad. "I love you and I just want what's best for you, Y/N. And if that's Seggy, then I'm on your side...100%." He whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"I love you too J...thank you." You pulled out of his arms and looked back at Tyler with a smile before turning back to your family group. "So, are we skating or what?"

"Well, considering there's a big romantic gesture in the middle of the pond, I don't know how we can do–OW!" Jordie said, looking at Jessi before sighing. "Okay, I guess we can go pick it up. Come on Jamie."

Everyone sat down and talked as they got their skates on and as you looked around the group, you felt like you were once again floating on cloud nine. A hand appeared in front of your face and you looked up to see Tyler smiling at you and nodding his head towards the ice. "Skate?"

"Sure thing, Seguin. As long as you don't go breaking a hip on me." You replied, rolling your eyes.

He laughed and pulled you up off of the bench and the two of you skated around on the ice, hand in hand. "I'll save the hip breaking for the Family Skate at the Winter Classic." He looked down at you. "You're coming to that, right?"

"As a part of Jamie's family or..." You didn't dare say the other option, fearful that you were jumping into a whole nother conversation.

But Tyler smiled and held up your intertwined hands in between the two of you. "You can go as Jamie's family, sure. But I was kind of hoping that you'd you know...skate with me..." He nodded his head side to side, hoping that you'd be able to fill in the blanks but you just smiled. "As my girlfriend? Unless you're totally scared of me beating you in the race we will most definitely be having."

"I'd love to," you smiled, reaching up and kissing him on the lips. "And for the record, I'd totally beat your ass."

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Would you like to test that theory?"

You smirked, dropping his hand and winking at him. "You're on."

[lifewithsehun]

From Planet Exo: Xiumin

Who are you?

Kim Minseok/Xiumin (Alien) x Reader (Human)

Alien Au Superpower AuGenre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut

Warning: Smut (first timers, so maybe you can call it somewhat fluff smut)/cussing

Note: It’s long, didn’t want to split it into parts, since this is already a side story to a series I am working on. 

Summary: Xiumin otherwise known as Kim Minseok here on planet earth is not a human, but an alien as humans would call him if they knew what he was. He was from a planet named Exo and he wasn't just any normal alien, he like his brothers had his own special gift, he could make and control ice. His parents sent him and his brothers far away from there home when he was the mere age of 5 and unfortunately got separated from his brothers, but he knew it was for the best in order to avoid being found by the enemy. He had ended up in Washington, D.C. which was where he met you and he became fascinated with you immediately and determined to make you love him and accept him for who he was... one day.

July 2019

 It was a hot summer day, everyone looked annoyed with the heat and they kept fanning their faces, but not Minseok, he was lucky he could discreetly use his power to keep himself fresh. "Sucks for them", he whispered to himself as he smirked and got into his car. He was headed back to work after a nice week off visiting his adoptive parents. He worked for NASA, not a coincidence, it had been instructions his parents relayed into his memory, so he could be aware of any problems from outer space that could put his brothers or him in danger. He really did enjoy his job though and well he was very smart making it easy to get the job. Today he was instructed that a group of new interns were going to need a limited tour, which meant keep an eye on them, to which he rolled his eyes. "I have more important things to be doing, I'm not a tour guide", he complained to Mr. Mills. "I know, but David is out today and the others will probably end up taking the interns into restricted areas on "accident", Mr. Mills replied and chuckled. "They were hired as tour guides, but can't even do the job they were hired for'', Minseok groaned as he heard a knock at the door. "Looks like they have arrived", Mr. Mills pointed to the door and Minseok shook his head, but headed to where the interns were. 

 As he got a view of the interns he noticed you immediately, something about you caught his eyes, it was like a magnet pulling him in. He was taken aback because he had never found himself wanting to look at a human girl, no woman would be the correct term for you, he had never been attracted to any woman before maybe because although he was raised as a human his blood and nature was not. He always thought that his mind and body were expecting a woman from his planet to be with, but at the moment he wasn't sure any more. The other interns nor you had noticed him yet and he was thankful because he was trying to admire your features, you were quite short, possibly 5'2 or 5'3, he wasn't too sure but he liked that your head would rest perfectly against his chest. He was taking this too far maybe, he didn't even know you, but he knew he wanted to. You looked so perfect, small enough for him to hold you and your face was immaculate in his eyes, you had pretty eyes with long eyelashes that touched your soft full looking cheeks when you blinked and small but pouty lips. Shit he thought he was already so fucked, until he heard you speak, then at that moment he realized how really fucked he was. "Hello, are you Mr. Kim", he heard you speak again, but only realizing that you had already asked him that. "Uhh, ye..yes I'm Kim Minseok", he stuttered and cleared his throat. "Oh we're the new interns, I'm Y/N", you replied with a smile and extended your hand out to him. Minseok could feel his palm sweat, something new to him, but he cooled it down immediately before he shook your hand and smiled back. He held onto your hand a little longer than you expected, so you raised your eyebrows at him and he let go immediately with a small sorry. 

 After everyone had presented themselves, Minseok led them to the places on the list that they would be using for their work and other interesting areas they could explore. He tried not to be distracted by you, but he would sneak glances at you and he loved how excited and happy you looked. He also liked that you were the one mostly asking questions because you had such a beautiful voice. The tour was coming to an end sooner than he wanted. Mr. Mills suddenly popped up to introduce himself and noticed that Minseok didn't look upset. "You liked the tour?", Mr. Mills asked the interns and you. "Yes'', you all replied. "Good, maybe I'll make Minseok do these tours more often", Mr. Mills replied, causing Minseok to glare at him. "Or not", Mr. Mills laughed and the interns along with you laughed also. Okay something was wrong Minseok thought to himself, he was liking you too much, your laugh had just made his stomach flip or feel butterflies however people described it. He didn't want to seem like a creep, but what the hell was pulling him towards you so much, damn it. Once Mr. Mills was gone, you thanked and said goodbye to Minseok, which looked a bit conflicted, but replied that it was his pleasure and a goodbye. You walked over to get your badge and necessary items from the front desk, since tomorrow would be your first day and then you were off to your apartment without realizing that Minseok was looking at you with sad eyes. The next day arrived and you felt nervous, but excited. You met the rest of your coworkers and even got to see Minseok and Mr. Mills around. By the time you knew it a month had passed since your first day and you felt comfortable with your coworkers, everyone was so nice, especially Minseok, he kept popping in to check on everything and always sent a warm smile. He was quite handsome and nice you realized as you saw him walking towards you. "Hi, Mr. Kim'', you greeted him with a smile. "Hi Miss YLN, please call me Minseok", he replied back. "Okay, but you call me Y/N then", you replied. "Will do", he replied with a smile. His smile was cute, you noticed and realized you like seeing him smile everyday at work. 

 Time was flying by, you had been working with him for 2 months now and Minseok didn't know how to ask if you wanted to get lunch or dinner with him. He would get quite nervous every time he wanted to ask you, but he didn't want to waste more time anymore, so today he decided today would be the day. "Hey, Y/N", he called out to you as he stood in front of your desk. "Oh hi Minseok", you looked up at him. "Umm I wanted to.. umm are you busy tomorrow since it's Saturday and it's our day off", he finally let out. You looked at him surprised but nodded your head no. "I wanted to know if you wanted to go get dinner with me tomorrow", he asked with expectant yet nervous looking eyes. Cute, you thought to yourself as you saw him shift his eyes nervously. "I would love that", you finally replied after what felt like an eternity to him. "Great, I will pick you up then at 7 tomorrow, how does that sound?", he asked. "Perfect", you answered with a smile. He nodded and smiled as he started to walk away. "Wait Minseok, you need my number, so I can give you my address for tomorrow", you said with a teasing tone. "Ahh, yes how dumb of me", he chuckled as you handed him your phone number on a piece of paper. The next day you were feeling quite nervous, Minseok had texted you for your address and some details about the date, well he didn't specify that it was a date, but why else would he ask you out for dinner and to a fancy restaurant at that, it must be date right you thought. You decide to wear a nice black dress not too fancy, but appropriate for the restaurant with some matching heels, you waved your hair, and wore some light makeup. You felt pretty, well at least you hoped he would think the same, you were quite bad at this, you never had dated someone, always concentrated on school and by the time you knew it you were at this point in life without any dating experiences. You had learned Minseok was 30 and probably very well experienced and you at 23 weren't experienced at all in anything why lie, so you hoped you wouldn't fuck it up today. You heard your doorbell ring taking you out of your thoughts and you headed over to open the door. As you opened it, you were taken aback with how much more handsome Minseok looked and he looked at you from head to toe making you feel a little uncertain about your look until he suddenly said, "You look beautiful". "Thank you", you replied and tried to hide your blushing face from him, but he saw and smiled. You both took off to the restaurant and enjoyed dinner together, you both spent dinner getting to know each other and you realized that you really enjoyed his company and hoped he enjoyed yours too. Over dinner you learned about his adoptive parents and he learned about your family. Minseok kept his siblings a secret telling you he was an only child and giving you information about his human life, but you didn't know he had secrets anyway, so you just thought you were getting to know who he really was. After dinner, you both went for a small walk at the park and then headed home, Minseok didn't want the night to end and why lie you didn't either, but it was getting late. He drove you home and walked you to your door. "Would you like to come in for something to drink '', you offered, but he smiled and replied a small "Thank you, but I'm okay, next time though". He knew it would be harder to leave if he went inside. You nodded and smiled. "I had a great time", he said. "Me too", you replied with a smile. "Well I should go''... "Drive safe Minseok'', you replied with a smile. As he left and you went into your apartment you hoped you would have more dates with him.

 More dates did happen and you enjoyed every single one of them, you even lost count of how many dates you both had. You even learned that just like you Minseok had never dated, so it was all new ground for both of you and you loved being able to experience new things with him. Today Minseok had told you to dress casual and that he would pick you up at around 5pm. You got ready and he arrived for you on time like usual. Minseok had planned a picnic and the weather was so nice on this October day, you were extremely grateful for his thoughtfulness. As you both sat there after enjoying the food, Minseok suddenly grabbed both your hands causing you to look at him with a questioning gaze to which he just smiled. "Y/N", he said afterwards. "Yes?"... "You know I really like you, I love spending my days with you, you make me feel cared for", he told you. "You make me feel the same way Minseok and I like you too", you replied. "Will you be my girlfriend?"... "I would love that", you said happily as you threw your arms around him causing him to laugh, oh how much you loved his laugh. "Baby", he said as he unwrapped your arms from him. Oh, him calling you baby just melted you right then and there. "Hmm", you hummed shyly. Minseok looked you in the eyes and then proceeded to put his hands on each of your cheeks and leaned forward and by the time you realized what was going on you felt his lips on yours. They felt so soft and shit you didn't know how to kiss, this was your first kiss! Minseok felt you tense and wondered if he did wrong, but then remembered that it was your first kiss, so he pulled you in closer and moved his lips more until he felt you relax and follow his movements. Once he felt that you started feeling more comfortable he swiped his tongue on your bottom lip and felt your mouth part a little more and he inserted his tongue in proceeding to explore your mouth completely and even suck on your tongue causing you to let out a small sound that he would say sounded like a moan. You both separated from the kiss and your lips were quite swollen and your cheeks were so red that he found you so adorable. "I thought you had never kissed", you asked him. "That was my first kiss", he replied and pecked your lips. "Now that was my second", he chuckled.

July 2020

   Months passed and Minseok was always surprising you, he was such an amazing boyfriend. You could honestly say you loved him and you hoped he loved you too. These past months the world had been hit with a pandemic and you had been getting so stressed about it and Minseok was always there for you for anything, even when you freaked out for the smallest things. Today you both had decided to have a movie night and you cooked dinner. Once dinner was done and you both sat on his sofa, he turned on the TV, the news popped up immediately showing all the bad weather and pandemic crisis going on and you sighed. "This year has been so scary", you said to Minseok and he nodded while changing it to the movie instead. "I mean what's next, an alien invasion?", you asked. You felt Minseok tense and he put the remote control down. "You think so", he then said. "Well I don't know, I mean would they come kill us or befriend us", you replied. Minseok knew either or could happen, he knew his people wouldn't harm them, but he knew there were others from the enemy planet that wouldn't even second guess killing everyone here on earth. "Do you believe they exist?", he asked. "Maybe, I mean you could be one, even your grumpy neighbor could be one", you shrugged and laughed. "Yeah we could be right", he said with a serious tone. "Min, I'm kidding, I mean like hello that's too much and if you were one you would've told me anyway"  you laughed. "Y/N, I should tell, I think I should've told you a while back", he started to say. "Tell me what Min, you're acting weird", you interrupted. "I'm an Alien, I'm not human", he responded. "What are you talking about Min, you're so weird", you said and laughed. "I'm not kidding, and look what I can do", he said as he stood and started to form some ice in his hand. You stood immediately and looked at him with wide eyes. "This is a dream, right or a prank, that can't be real", you immediately said. "Baby, it's real, I should've told you sooner, but I am not human", he replied. "Then why didn't you tell me?", you asked, still doubtful and a bit freaked out about the situation. "For safety reasons and to not freak you out", he replied and walked towards you. You stepped back immediately and you saw a hurt expression form on his face. "Safety?, did you think I would tell others and I am freaking out now, I thought I knew you Min", you said. "I'm sorry baby, I do trust you, I meant safety for you not me, and please don't freak out, it's still me, your Min", he said with a desperate tone. "My Min.. huh? If you were my Min, you would've trusted me!", you responded. He reached for you, but you moved back again. "Look Minseok, if that's even your real name, I need time, I'm freaking out okay", you said. "Don't leave", Minseok begged. "I'll come back, Minseok we need to talk, I just need some air right now", you responded and headed to the door and left.

  You got in your car and drove to the nearest park. You just needed some air to calm down, it's not like you would stop loving Minseok in a couple of minutes. Alien or not, you were just hurt he didn't trust you, you would tell him everything, every single thing and yet he left out something so huge. After 2 hours of sitting on a bench and taking some deep breaths, you headed back to his apartment. You couldn't bare imagining how sad he must be right now and you were right as soon as you entered his apartment he was sitting on the couch staring at the wall with dried up tears on his cheeks. He turned around to look at you once he realized you were next to him and let out a weak, "Baby you're here". "I am", you responded and sat next to him. "I'm so sorry", he said and sounded so sincere. "Tell me who you really are.." He told you his birth name was Xiumin, he was from planet Exo, he has the power to make and control ice, and he has been on earth since he was five due to enemies wanting to either experiment or kill him and his brothers because of their powers. Once he was done telling you more about what he vaguely remembered and what his parents implemented in his memory, you couldn't help, but realize you had been selfish to leave because he was the one suffering away from his real parents and home. You hugged him and he responded immediately and even picked you up onto his lap within a second like if you didn't weigh anything. "I'm also quite strong and have a lot of stamina", he said after seeing your shocked expression. You hummed and buried your face in his neck placing a small kiss there. "Xiumin", you decide to call him to try it out. He leaned back into the couch so he could see your face and you just stared back at him. "Say it again", he said. "Xiumin", you repeated. He leaned forward and captured your lips in a desperate kiss. He was usually soft, but right now his kisses were hot and desperate. After shoving his tongue into your mouth and sucking on your tongue like if it was his favorite candy, he broke the kiss to let you breathe. "I thought you were going to leave me, but now have you here sitting on my lap and calling me Xiumin is doing things to me", he breathed out against your lips. "What kind of things", you replied back.

     You saw his eyes turn blue for a mere second and then become full of lust as he pulled you closer to him to where you could feel his bulge. "Oh", you moaned lowly and decided to grind yourself on him. The friction made you both moan simultaneously. "You sure you wanna be doing that'', he said with a low moan as you grinded against him again. "Well I heard you say you have good stamina", you teased. "Oh, I'll show you, but only if you are 100 percent sure baby", he said as he remembered that this would be the first time for both of you. You had just learned something major about Minseok and although it made you feel shocked, your love for him was stronger and you felt the same from him in the way he held you, kissed you, and looked at you, so you were sure that if today was the day you'd both get closer than ever, this was the moment to give yourself completely to him. "I'm sure, I even wore matching underwear and bra", you giggled trying to calm your nerves. You saw him smirk and then you were being lifted up and he headed to his bedroom. "I can't wait to see that'', he whispered in your ear and placed a small kiss below your ear afterwards. Minseok laid you down gently on his bed and then hovered over you as he started to place kisses on your face starting at your forehead to your nose, your cheeks, and finally your lips. His kisses were gentle and he seemed like he was trying to be careful with you, which you appreciated because this was something you had never done before, but you also wanted him to touch you more. "Touch me please", you begged as you broke the kiss. "Of course baby", he said and kissed you again as he ran his hand over your body tracing from your neck down to your waist where he lightly squeezed and lifted your shirt up to feel the skin of your stomach. "You're so soft", he whispered against your lips and sat up slightly with both knees on either side of you and started to lift your shirt. You lifted yourself up slightly so he could slide your shirt off and once he did he pushed you back down and started placing kisses on your neck, collarbones, and chest. "Min more please you're going too slow", you slightly moaned as he sucked slightly on top of your breasts. "I want to take my time with you baby", he chuckled causing you to whine. "Let me take care of you..hmm trust me", he whispered in your ear as he reached behind you to unhook your bra.

  Once he removed your bra completely he couldn't help but groan, "You're beautiful baby". You blushed and started to cover yourself with your arms, but Minseok pushed them away and pinned them next to your head. "Let me see you and touch you like you begged", he said as he wrapped his mouth around your breast and used his other hand to massage the other. His hands were usually cold, so you were accustomed to them, but his mouth felt even colder and it made you gasp once you felt it wrap around your nipple. "That feels so good", you moaned as he swirled his tongue. He switched to the other and continued to squeeze and suck. "Take your shirt off", you whined as you tried to pull it up. He sat up and pulled it off, tossing it across the room and you admired his firm chest, abs, and his arms, he was fit and you wanted to feel his skin on you. You pulled him forward and felt bliss when his skin came into contact with yours, since he was always somewhat cold to the touch, his cold skin against your hot skin felt so good. Minseok reached his hands down to unbutton of shorts and as he dragged them down with your underwear in one go. "Fuck, how are you so perfect", he said as he looked at you from your eyes down to your core which was wet and ready for him. He swiped his index finger through your lips and tapped your clit making you buck up at the sudden touch. "So wet baby", he groaned as he held your hips and continued to swipe two fingers up and down now and rub your clit in circles with his thumb. "You like that?", he questioned as you continued to moan. "Yes your fingers feel so good", you moaned out. Suddenly you felt him prodding your entrance with his finger and you tensed. "Relax", he said as he placed a kiss on your inner thigh and then on your clit causing you to relax like he said. He continued to prod your entrance and eventually slowly pushed his finger in. "Shit", you moaned at the sudden intrusion that felt weird, but good. Minseok slowly started to thrust his finger in and out slowly and suddenly you felt him add a second finger, it was making you so wet and when he added his tongue on your clit, you felt your body on fire. "How are you so good?", you whimpered in pleasure. "Umm I read about it..", he chuckled. "Wow, you read about it, that's random", you answered with amusement. "Well I wanted to be ready to make you feel good baby", he said and went back to swirling his tongue on your clit and pumping his fingers faster bringing that knot feeling in your stomach to increase. As he continued, he could feel your body slowly starting to tremble and he added a third finger. "Xiumun, Min, Minseok fuck", he heard you moan as you finally orgasmed and started trembling in his hold. He removed his fingers and started using his tongue to probe your entrance and clean up your cum. 

  He felt you tap him on the shoulder and he lifted his face away from your core and up to place a deep kiss on your lips, you sucked on his tongue and could taste yourself. "That was amazing", you breathed out as you both parted from the kiss. "That was only the beginning", he said with a smirk and started kissing you again. You reached for the button on his jeans and once you succeeded you reached in to stroke him over his boxers. "Baby", he moaned against your lips as he bucked into your hand. Minseok felt big and you felt like he probably wouldn't fit easily, but you trusted him. You started to push his jeans and boxers down and he pulled himself off you to push them off completely. You saw his member spring up and slap against his stomach, he was big like you felt and thick. His member look so hard and it was leaking precum at the tip. You felt yourself getting nervous, but mostly wet again and you wanted to feel it. You sat up and reached for his member, it was quite big in your hand, but Minseok seemed to enjoy your touch by the way he whimpered. You started to stroke it tentatively and as you saw his mouth gaping and his eyes roll back, you knew you were doing good, so you increased your pace a tad bit more. More precum started to leak and you wanted to taste it, so you licked the slit on his tip. "Damn.. baby wait", Minseok moaned pulling you away from his member. You looked up at him and he pushed you on your back while climbing over you. "I need a condom", he said and moved back up. "I'm using the pill", you said and pulled him back onto you. "Wait will that work with your cum?", you asked since he wasn't human. Minseok let out a laugh and nodded a yes. "Okay proceed", you responded shyly. "Oh, you're so cute", he said adoringly and pecked your lips. Minseok positioned himself at your entrance and rubbed himself up to your clit and back down to spread his precum and get you prepared. He then proceeded to put his tip in slowly causing you to whimper. It was definitely a foreign feeling more than his fingers had felt earlier. He continued to push in slowly as he asked if you were okay. You nodded, but still whimpered in slight pain as you felt him stretching you out slowly. He stopped again and caressed your face before he continued to push further in. He suddenly stopped moving completely and you could feel him in so deep and your walls pulsating around the foreign object. "Let's wait until you accommodate and tell me when you are ready", he said. "Okay", you replied trying to hide the slight pain in your voice. Minseok started to place kisses on your lips and then your neck. He rubbed his fingers soothingly on your hips and waited patiently for you to adjust. As you felt the pain subduing into pleasure you told him to move. "Are you sure?", he questioned. "Yes Min please move", you replied. He started to pull out slowly and push back in. He kept the pace slow as he listened to your whimpers turn into moans. As you continued to moan, he started to make his thrust longer and deeper. "Faster please", you moaned. He started thrusting a tad bit faster and your moans confirmed that you were feeling good, so he picked up his pace even more. As he thrusted in and out he could feel your walls pulling and pushing around him causing him to moan. "You're so tight", he groaned. He continued to thrust in and out, but at one particular thrust he heard you moan louder. He had hit your sweet spot. "I found it", he smirked as he kept thrusting and hitting the same spot over and over again. You felt your toes curl and you couldn't hold back from moaning out his name loudly, you didn't even care if his neighbors heard you. "Please don't stop", you begged. "I wouldn't even dream about stopping", he replied. You felt him rub your clit as he continued to thrust faster and faster. The knot in your stomach started to form again, but this time it felt bigger than the first. "You're doing so well baby, taking me in so good, I want to feel your tight walls trembling against me, hear you moaning out my name, and for you to look me in the eyes as you cum", Minseok moaned as he kissed your lips. "You're going to be a good girl and cum for me right?", he asked. "Yes, yes please I want to cum", you moaned. He increased his rubbing on your clit and his thrusts grew faster than you thought possible. Your toes continued to curl, your legs started to tremble, and the knot finally broke and your orgasm hit you like a train, hard and heavy. You tried to keep eye contact with him, but your eyes closed in pleasure and you continued to moan his name like a chant as he thrusted in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm while chasing his. As you felt his thrust become sloppy, you tightened your walls even more until you felt his cum shooting deep into you. He stopped thrusting as his cum filled you up and you felt him tremble slightly and saw his face contorted in pleasure while he moaned out your name. 

 As you both came down from your highs, Minseok stayed inside you and laid carefully on you while trying not to squish you. You wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back as he laid his head on your chest. "Are you okay?", he questioned as he looked up at you. "More than okay, my alien boyfriend just satisfied me so well", you replied with a wink. He laughed as he slowly slid out of you and got up to the restroom to clean himself up. He came back with a warm towel and started to clean you up slowly, but you still flinched slightly at the touch. He threw the towel in the laundry bag and then laid back down next to and wrapped his arms around you while you snuggled against his chest. "Y/N", he said. "Yes Min?", you responded. "I love you", he said as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "I love you too Min", you replied and placed a kiss right above his heart. His hold tightened against you as he told you to get some sleep. You relaxed against him and listened to his heart beat. He ended up sleeping before you and you started thinking how today had been a surprising day, you found out aliens did exist and as a matter of fact your boyfriend was one and he had a superpower. You had definitely freaked out, but that didn't last too long, because alien or not you loved Minseok. He meant the world to you and you'd do anything for him. You had given him your heart and now your body, you were his completely and you were going to stay by his side no matter what. His secret was safe with you even if his enemy came to torture you for his whereabouts you'd never say anything. To them you were a weak human, but your love for him was stronger than anything. You were ready to face anything with him and for him, your boyfriend from Exo planet. You heard a phone notification ring and you reached out for the phone without waking Minseok up. You realized it was his phone, but the message on the screen made your hands tremble as you read it. 

"Xiumin hide, they know we're on Earth -Suho"

[feralnumberfive]

I expect no one to read this at all. It’s more of a way to get some feelings off of my chest. This is a look into my personal life and what I went through in 2020. I cried quite a bit while writing this, haha.

My farewell letter to 2020:

To you 2020, the year that shook the world. You’re certainly one to go down in the record books. You changed my life as you did to everyone. To you, the month of March. I had hit the lowest part in my life since the shock of my parent's divorce 11 years ago. My beloved cat had died in October of 2019, a few days short of our one year anniversary of fostering him, which soon turned into us adopting him. It was sudden and unexpected. I still can remember clear as day that horrid call I got from my sister from the vet. “Hey, we need you to come up here. It’s kidney failure.” As she spoke through her tears, I instantly began to cry. I had felt sad for months after that. 

In December of 2019, the adoptive dad of one of my closest friends committed suicide. She was torn apart, having had three people she knew died earlier that year. I stood by her side and watched her cry. We colored together in the counseling room, making small talk and doing anything I could to comfort her. 

From late February into March, another one of my closest friends revealed to me a traumatic experience she went through. She had been raped by a classmate of mine, one who I considered to be good acquaintances. She was a grade younger than me, and was practically completely dependent on me and my friend, as she was too scared to tell her parents. She eventually completely relied on my friend as I became shoved out of the problem. Her story and the amount of support required from her, which she never gave back to me throughout our friendship, made me realize at that moment I had hit rock bottom. I was tired and so sick of it all. This sentence that I'm about to say is one I've never admitted to anyone: I didn't want to be around anymore, or at least alive. I needed somewhere to escape. I didn't want to commit suicide due to expectations I held upon myself. I was also too scared to commit suicide. 

I finally admitted I needed help, which was scary for me to do. In March of you, 2020, I was diagnosed with situational depression. I was soon put on an anti-depressant. It felt good to put a name on it, but little did I know I would pay the price for my relief. Preparing to go off to college, I needed to get a First Class Medical Certificate in order to apply to the flight program at the colloege I wanted to go to. I went and got my FAA Medical Certificate done, ticking off the boxes on my journey to fulfill my life long dream of becoming a pilot. 

Spring Break came and after watching schools around me close, it was announced that we wouldn't be returning until mid April, and then the end of April, then until May. I quickly realized it wasn't possible to return and that unbeknownst to me I had already spent the last days of my Senior year at school in March. A frantic question was suddenly formed amongst my classmates and soon the world: Will the class of 2020 graduate? I, being burnt out, didn't care what would happen to me or my class. We soon became a laughing stock and a sight to pity around the world. Class of 2020, Corona Class, The Class that would be telling this story to their kids. It didn't matter to me. As I held up the “Class of 2020″ shirt my uncle got me with the zeros as tp rolls, I sighed. I just wanted to graduate without getting laughed at. Spoiler Alert: That didn't happen. 

Around this time I ended my friendship with the girl who I cherished but didn't cherish me back. I still to this day can’t exactly understand why I did that. I blocked her and left without saying goodbye. That wasn’t the right thing to do at all. She had been raped and needed support, but here I was leaving her. She always needed and wanted my support but never gave it back. It was always “Aw you have a problem? Here, let’s try this minimal effort plan to help you. That didn’t work? Oh well, let’s get back to me.” This is no excuse at all for my actions of cutting her off. I really still don’t know why I did this. I had hung out with her everyday in the summer of 2019. Here I was, easily letting her go. Jackie, I’m so sorry. I hope you are doing well and get into ISU to follow your dreams of being an engineer. 

In May I received news that still hurts and effects me to this day. I had been denied my Medical Certificate. It wasn't due to me being on an antidepressant, is was due to the fact that I was depressed. This was soul crushing news, but there was still a chance I could reapply for the Medical Certificate if I jumped through multiple hoops. May also provided the announcement that my safe haven in Oshkosh, Wisconsin wouldn't be happening this year. It was definitely understandable due to the virus, but still very saddening to me. It’s really the only thing I look forward to each year, but I understood and agreed on why it was canceled for 2020.

In June I got the news that a beloved teacher of my family and I passed away due to a heart attack and complications of Addison’s Disease. She was the best math teacher I had ever had, and the best in my High School. Math is my worst subject, but she never made me feel stupid like the other math teachers. She always made sure I understood what I was doing. Sometimes when she didn’t feel like having class she would have a free day. She would gossip with my classmates and tell us stories of her youth. Sometimes though she would give us free days due to having intense migraines that sometimes hospitalized her due to her disease. It wasn’t fun to see her like that. 

In June she was hospitalized where even her husband and two kids weren’t allowed in to see her. The only person allowed into her before she died was her twin brother. The family decided to have a public funeral, with tons of people in the community and school district socially distancing and wearing masks to pay their respect. I began to cry as I listened to her husband tell everyone that he wasn't ready and was so scared to be a single parent. Their children were both under ten, and were now motherless. Mrs. Johnson it was so hard saying goodbye to you. I loved you so much, and I still do. You gave my friend who had lost her dad food and comfort. You did so much not only for my family and I, but for everyone in the community and school district. I miss you so much. 

Hot days came with hazy skies. Everyday I checked the wildfire smoke map as I watched the sun turn bright pink as the sun became a blazing red when the sun went down. For weeks our sky looked hazy. Some days looked cloudy, but it was actually smoke. As someone who lives the Midwest, this was quite surprising. 

In August I experienced something that will forever be remembered by me and everyone who lives in my state. A Derecho tore through and ravaged my hometown and the state that I dearly love. We watched through the window as trees snapped in half and branches and leaves whirled around everywhere. We watched through the window as water roared down the road, appearing as if a stream had started right next to us. We watched in fear as shingles were torn off and large items were blown through our yard. As the electricity flickered out, we wondered if we would be crushed by either tree that were on two sides of our house. Wet leaves were torn apart and slammed into our window, where they stayed there for a month afterwards. They looked like confetti, torn into thousands of tiny pieces. 

To the branches and trees I still see today in the neighboring towns and cities, broken reminders of the damage done. To you, the metal grain bins that still sit out in the flattened cornfields. Our once tall and proud cornfields that are a proud symbol of my state were now flattened to the ground, completely parallel to the rich farming soil that it stood in. Painting the countryside in flat waves of green with splotches of silver from grain bins and white from barns and houses damaged. Our proud stalks became damaged goods that costed us billions. To the buildings that still show their battle scars from months ago, the houses with the tarps on their roofs and the old wooden barns that couldn't handle the 140 mph. To you, Donald J, Trump, the President of the United States who was supposed to tour Cedar Rapids to exam the damage that still lies there today. You stayed in the airport and immediately left after getting your business done. You didn't care about us, you were there to do business and leave to start your campaigning.

My small town was able to clean up within a month or so, but even still TODAY the bigger cities are littered with damage. There are tree trunks and branches scattered along roads. Thousands of houses still have tarps on their houses and siding missing. 

In August my grandma was also diagnosed with Dementia. I've watched her deteriorate over the past few months. Every time we call she forgets that I’m not in school. Sometimes she forgets my name. When we tell her we’re on our way to visit outside her window, she forgets within 10 minutes. Grandma, I hope you never forget that I love you.

In September I finally met with a therapist. I am so thankful to be working with her. After months of my family getting angry and upset at me for being scared to go to the store, my therapist diagnosed me with Social Anxiety. I was so relieved to be diagnosed with it and to be working out the issues I have with my therapist. We work together weekly to help me become a better and more comfortable version of myself. 

Over the summer months the health of my already diseased cat took a steep decline. She was my cat, and I felt powerless as I slowly watched her die. She could no longer stay inside due to her having constant accidents. As we made our plan to take her to the vet to give her a peaceful death, I received a heartbreaking call from my mother on a cold September night. My little Jill had passed away in her sleep on our porch. I came over to say goodbye to my baby as I pet her cold fur one last time. I love you my little Jilly Bean and I miss you everyday. I miss and love you so so so much. 

September also brought the news that a precious B-25 had a crash landing. It always hurts to hear about a Warbird crashing or getting damaged. I was happy to hear though that they were going to fix it back to airworthiness.

In October I had to make a difficult decision with the FAA. Do I try to visit four different doctors for phycological examinations in order to complete my Medical Certificate or do I wait to get off my medicine and start feeling better on my own? I opted for the second part due to the decline of visiting all of those doctors coming up in November. We had been given that option early in the year, but Covid prevented us from traveling out of state to see those doctors. I sent a letter to the FAA to let them know what I was doing. I received a letter about a month ago that stated that I still needed to visit those doctors or something like that. I honestly didn’t look through it that well because it’s just such a pain in the butt.

Another thing about you 2020 is that you provided me with he opportunity to meet amazing people. I began to watch The Umbrella Academy in September, but I decided to make my account on October 1st. I’ve met tons of funny and talented people on here. The show itself had provided me tons of comfort. It has given me the courage to start writing fanfiction for it along with starting back up on drawing fanart

The end of 2020 has slowed down for me. One of my aviation heroes died this year, Mr. Chuck Yeager. It was heartbreaking for me to hear that. One of the worst days for me was ironically on my birthday in December. I felt really bitter and down and just wanted to sit in my room, but I didn’t. I don’t like celebrating my birthday anymore. As I get older it feels less and less special and in turn I feel sad about it. Another reason why is that I don’t like having a fuss made about it. I don’t like the attention from it haha. It’s okay though because even though this year I felt upset I eventually felt a bit happier as it turned to night. 

This year I witnessed history being made. Let me be clear that history is made every year, but this year was very eventful. I witnessed innocent black lives being slaughtered by the very people who are sworn to protect everyone. It’s so disappointing and soul crushing to see all of this. I don’t know if I’ve made it clear on here, but I strongly stand with the BLM movement. I may not understand what they haven been going through for decades, but I stand with them to make things right. Black Lives Matter, not All Lives. All Lives only matter when it’s actually true and Black Lives are included. If you saw a house on fire in an entire block of houses, you wouldn’t say “All Houses Matter!” No they don’t, that house on fire matters. Black Lives Fucking Matter, and All Cops Are Bastards.

To you, the Pledge of Allegiance. Everyday in elementary school I proudly held my right hand over my heart as I stared up at Old Glory and recited you. This year helped me realize that “With liberty and justice for all.” is total bullshit. The only thing I truly appreciate about my country now is the scenery and nature it provides. 

To you 2020, as I finish writing this letter on December 31st. You’ve made me cry a lot, including right now. You’ve deeply effected my life and brought me lots of sorrow. Despite all of this, I don't feel upset about you. Yes, you gave me some events that will always haunt me but that’s okay. 2020 even though you’ve hurt me, you’ve also shaped me. Yes, you also made my lose faith in my country and humanity, but I can only hope for the best. You’ve pushed me to become a better version of myself. 

So to you 2020, you’ve been a hell of a year. I’ve hated and loved you, but mostly hated you. I went through some shit, but others have gone through worse this year. To those of you who have had a very hard time this year, I love you. I sincerely hope things get better for you. Friend or stranger, you can always rely on me as someone to talk to, to rant or vent to, and to cry to. This year was excruciating, but don’t give up. It has ended and a new year has begun. Sure 2021 may also be bad and we’re all exhausted from 2020, but let’s fight till the end. 

[katedrakeohd]

Nothing Like the Present (Part Two)

[Part 9 of A Very Valtorian Christmas ] (Masterlist)

TRH gang are still opening christmas presents...

Warnings: A little angst, mostly fluff.

..__________________________________..

Drake admires the amber color of the whiskey in the bottle that Nicholas gave him, wishing he could pour himself some but it's too early in the day.

Leaning against the sofa is a fishing rod that Drake received from Hana. Next to Drake, Kate is wearing a silver locket that he gifted to her. On her lap is a gift box containing red and black silky lingerie.

Kate had blushed when she opened it, while Maxwell had wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ooh, now you both have sexy jammies.”

Drake grumbles, “Next year I think we’ll open our gifts privately, after the guests leave.”

Hana smiles, “Oh but next year there will be baby presents to open too.”

Nicholas turns the pages on the leather-bound journal that Hana had given him. “I suppose in the Spring we’ll be throwing a baby shower.”

Maxwell gathers up the last few gifts and hands them out. Drake gets two envelopes, Kate gets an envelope and a large jar with a ribbon tied around the lid. She notices that both gifts are from Hana. In the jar are layers of ingredients, including marshmallows.

Kate smiles, “Let me guess, your famous hot chocolate recipe.”

Hana nods, “Of course, I know how much you like it.”

Kate lifts the tab on the envelope with a grin, “This is a pretty large set of instructions on how to prepare hot chocolate. What could this possibly be?”

Hana and Nicholas exchange a knowing glance, while Maxwell plays tug of war with one of the corgis on the floor. Drake sets his two envelopes aside, assuming they're Christmas cards, and watches Kate pull a folded document out of hers.

“What are these?” Kate asks as she flips through the pages.

Hana smiles, when realization dawns on Kate’s face.

“It's a copy of my Cordonian citizenship papers. Nicholas helped me make them official. Remember how my parents were pushing me to move back home when they came to visit during the lantern festival? Now I can live here permanently.”

Kate hugs her, “Oh Hana this is so wonderful. Now you can move in.”

Drake’s mouth drops open, “Wait what?”

Nicholas tries to explain as he can see the growing look of panic on Drake’s face.

“With the social season over, and where I’m no longer actively searching for a Queen to supply my heir, it would not be right for Hana to remain living at the Palace.”

Drake’s expression goes from panic to a frown, “So you’re just kicking her out? She’s your friend, and a Guardian of the Realm. Would it really be that scandalous to allow her to stay as your guest?”

Nicholas is surprised by Drake’s reaction, suddenly finding himself on the defensive.  “Well...no, that's not what I meant. Kate invited her to live here, and once Hana finished her cultural studies to earn her citizenship, she told me she was eager to make her move. We weren’t quite sure how you’d feel about her moving in, considering your family is already growing.”

Everyone turns to look at Drake expectantly for his answer. He zeros in on Kate and her guilty expression as her eyes shift away, and then move back to him.  The way Hana is holding Kate’s hand, and how they're leaning on each other causes an ache in the pit of Drake’s stomach. No dammit, I’m not giving in to selfish jealousy. I need to handle this like a mature adult.

Drake shrugs, giving Kate and Hana an uneasy smile. “Of course Hana can live here, she’s our friend, practically family.”

Kate breathes a sigh of relief, reaching out to touch his hand. “Thanks so much honey.”

Hana looks between Kate and Drake, trying to dispel the sudden awkwardness, “I don’t need to move in right away. I can wait until after the baby is born.”

Maxwell smiles, “Just in time to help out if you need it. I’m jealous of Auntie Hana already.”

Nicholas looks to his friend, and notices Drake’s jaw working, the clenching of his teeth setting his lips into a grim line. His hand keeps bunching and releasing the blanket on the couch next to him. When Drake catches the sympathetic look on the King’s face, he relaxes a little.

“So are we finished opening gifts now?” Drake asks hopefully.

Maxwell sees the two envelopes next to Drake on the sofa, “You haven't opened your christmas cards yet, might be something special in there.”

Hana opens up a package from Kate, revealing a silk scarf with an elegant jungle and tiger pattern, “Oh wow Kate, this is beautiful.”

Kate smiles, “I wanted to give you a scarf with a phoenix on it, as a welcome to Valtoria, but couldn't find one that was quite right.”

“No worries Kate, I love tigers. And the fiery colors are so pretty.”

Kate gives her a hug around the shoulders, grinning “I’m so glad you like it dear, plus now I can borrow it.”

Hana laughs as she holds the gift box out of Kate’s reach. “We’ll see.”

Drake tears into the first envelope, a photo of a green rowboat falls out of the Christmas card as he opens it, he turns it over to read the details written on the back, “What’s this?”

“Surprise!” Maxwell says, “Bertrand and I got you a boat. Hey you’ve finally got your own house on a lake, so we figured you could use a boat too.”

Drake smiles, “Thanks Max, I appreciate it.”

Maxwell looks off in the distance, holding his hands out to frame the view of the lake outside the window. “Picture it, rowing out onto the water with Kate and your little one, catching fish or just enjoying the quiet sounds of nature.”

Looking over at Kate, Drake could imagine it. He thought back to that night in Portavira when Kate had agreed to go fishing with him. He wondered how long it would be before they had the chance to do such a thing again. Maybe next summer Auntie Hana could babysit? Having her around might be a good thing after all.

Maxwell is still talking, “...I wanted to get you a bigger boat with a motor, but Bertrand insisted it wasn't in the budget. Then we haggled back and forth over wood or fiberglass, and the colour..”

Drake snaps out of his daydream of being on the lake with Kate on a sunny day, imagining her in a bathing suit.

“It's ok Max, this boat will do just fine. I see that it comes with it's own trailer, but I don't think the Manor’s SUV has a trailer hitch.” He shrugs, “But we’ll find a way to get the boat to the water.”

Maxwell and Kate share a knowing glance, and Kate encourages Drake to open the other envelope. “That Christmas card might help.”

Drake raises his eyebrow, mumbling as he opens the envelope, “I don’t see how, but ok…”

He pulls out a card that has a Papa bear sitting in an overstuffed chair with his bear cub in his lap, the juvenile text on the outside says “Have a Beary Merry Christmas Papa.”

Drake’s vision goes blurry as he tears up, and his breath catches in his throat. My first daddy Christmas card.

Maxwell covers his mouth with his hands, gasping with surprise, “Oh my God, Kate. We made Drake cry.”

Drake wipes his eye with the heel of his hand, trying to hide his embarrassment with a sniff and chuckle, “No..no you didn't. Besides, what do you mean we? I'm not your Daddy.”

“Open it, open it, open it!” Maxwell insists, bouncing with excitement.

Inside the Christmas card is a folded up vehicle listing from a local car dealership. When Drake unfolds the paper he sees that it has a picture of a blue pickup truck on it.

“You can't be serious?!” He exclaims, choking on the words, “You got me a truck?”

Kate nods, smiling and pointing out the truck's special features on the paper, “Yes, yes we did. Max helped me pick it out for you. It's a 2019 GMC Sierra, blue, with four doors, four wheel drive, heated seats, backup camera, V8 engine, trailer package, all the bells and whistles, everything a new Daddy could ever want in a vehicle, with plenty of room in the backseat for a child safety seat.”

Drake just stares at Kate, dumbstruck, his mouth hanging open. He'd never owned anything larger than a television in his life. And now he had his own truck.

As Kate goes on to describe the other vehicles that she and Max had looked at, and her conversation with the salesman, Drake tunes her out and just gazes at her with an expression of love and wonder. He was thinking about road trips with her sitting on the seat beside him and them both singing along to the music on the radio. He could already feel the excitement of having so much horsepower under his control and hear the hum of the tires on the pavement.

“…and he agreed to wave his commission and other fees if we do a promotional photo when we go in to sign the papers.”

Drake leans in to kiss her mouth to stop her from talking. When she giggles, he mumbles against her lips, punctuating each word with another kiss. “You're the best..wife..ever.”

Kate cups his face in her hands, loving his happy expression and his goofy grin, “So you don't mind posing for photos?”

Drake shakes his head, focusing on her lips, “..photos? What photos?”

“The guy at the dealership said that it would be a great way to boost sales if he could say that the Duke and Duchess bought one of his vehicles.”

“Ok sure, I’ll pose for photos. When do we go pick up the truck?”

“Monday.”

“Oh can I come along?” Max asks.

“No,” Drake answers.

Maxwell pouts, “But I helped pick it out. Kate wanted to get an SUV, but I convinced her that you'd rather have a big manly bruiser of a truck instead of a soccer Mom family car.”

Kate shrugs, “He’s not lying. I really had my heart set on the red Terrain instead.”

Drake sighs, “Ok fine, but you travel home with Preston in the SUV.”

..__________________________________..

tagging:

@jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @mskaneko @speedyoperarascalparty @dcbbw @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @pedudley @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @gardeningourmet @drakesensworld @mfackenthal @thequeenchoices @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @wickedgypsymoon @griselda1121 @indiacater @texaskitten30 @nikkis1983 @lynne1993 @bobasheebaby @drakesfiance @ravenpuff02 @moonlightgem7

..__________________________________..

[bookaddict24-7]

REVIEW: Loveboat, Taipei by Abigail Hing Wen!

My Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5/5

Age Recommendation: 16+

Genres: Contemporary, Family, Drama, Romance, Own Voices

Release Date: January 7th, 2020

Add this book to your TBR on Goodreads here.

You can read my other reviews here, here, here and here.

I received an ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

This review may contain unintended spoilers.

___

Loveboat, Taipei by Abigail Hing Wen has been on my radar since I first heard about it near the end of the summer in 2019. I have loved Taiwan for almost a decade and it is probably near the top of my to-visit travel destinations on my bucket list. Learning more about this beautiful country via the experiences of a reluctant teenager was more than I expected, just like the story itself--I didn’t expect to enjoy it so much! 

Ever has strict parents who are sure they know what is best for Ever’s future. When her mother surprises Ever with a trip to Taiwan to take place in a summer school program, she doesn’t know what to expect. Despite Ever’s plans for a summer full of dancing, she has to do as her parents wish--even if it means training to be a future doctor. But when she arrives at the school, she is told that this will be a Loveboat experience--where students, under little supervision, hook up and sometimes find themselves in relationships with their future spouses. Ever’s summer gets even more complicated when she encounters beautiful and perfect Rick, and bad boy player, Xavier. But as the summer progresses with nights full of drinking, clubbing, and other life-changing experiences, Ever must decide if she will stay her parents’ rule-abiding daughter, or if the time has finally come for her to find her voice. 

I was very surprised by Wen’s debut. I went in expecting this to be very Gossip Girl and drama-filled, but I was happily surprised with the depth. When we first meet Ever, it is a scene of her doing what she loves most: dancing. Throughout the novel, this becomes a common theme for Ever--her constantly trying to find a moment to dance, or a second to glimpse a potential future that includes dancing. Her going back and forth and reaching the climax of the story felt like a dance in itself, as she was constantly being pulled in many directions. Also, I loved how Wen incorporated Chinese traditions into the dances that Ever practiced. Unlike other characters who happen to have hobbies, like painting, for the sake of having “depth”, I enjoyed that Ever actually embodied her greatest love. 

Ever also struggles a lot with her identity as one of the only Asians in her American community, and this is made very clear at the beginning of the book. What does it mean to be Chinese? How will she fit in in this new world full of Chinese teenagers (that her parents have sent her to)? Is she Chinese enough? Watching her learn about her culture and finding her place in it was a slow and beautiful thing to watch.

The frustration I felt with Ever’s parents was palpable. It reminded me so much of American Panda by Gloria Chao, and how limiting parents can be in the name of “having the best for their children in mind”. I felt Ever’s despair over her situation and the conflict of making her parents happy. Being the daughter of immigrants, I can see that there is a level of respect in seeing how hard parents work to give their kids the future they’d wish they’d have. My own mom, like her father, followed a different career path because of the limitations surrounding her circumstances. What I found troubling and incredibly sad was how, for some reason, Ever’s parents--her mother in particular--felt it necessary to use their struggles as a bundle of guilt for their daughter to do as they wanted. To some extent, I saw it at a heavy dose of emotional abuse. I get that an acknowledgement needs to be made about sacrifices, but why do you have to weaponize the admission of sacrifice towards your own child?

One of the things I kind of wish hadn’t happened in this book was the love triangle. It wasn’t done horribly, but it was done almost cruelly. I know that Ever is trying to figure herself out and let’s be honest, if you read this, you know exactly who she will end up with, but I still found it to be a little sad to use Ever’s failings with one person as a potential lesson with the other person. The best thing that came out of that situation, however, was that both characters ended up growing from the experience. 

One final thing I want to comment on is the friendship that Ever has with one of the girls at the school. I thought that while her actions were pretty obvious early on in the book, it was her friend’s growth that proved to be that friendship’s greatest strength. 

And that’s one of the things I loved so much about Loveboat, Taipei--every character experienced some form of growth. The main side characters weren’t there to make the protagonist look one way or the other, and they weren’t there to simply move the plot along. Every major side character had depth. They all have struggles and they all grew through the struggles. 

There is a delicate line that separates the before and after of Loveboat, Taipei, where the reader might notice the change in Ever. It happens slowly and subtly, but she finally realizes that she needs to have a hand in her present and in her future. At the end of my reading experience, I realized that these characters had their own theme of finding their voices in a world that refused to listen. They were all humanly flawed and were made better for it. 

The love triangle has me not giving this book a full five star rating, but I definitely recommend it to readers who love contemporary YA (there are some NSFW scenes that may not be appropriate for certain ages). This was a fantastic read and I simply devoured it. 

Happy reading!

P.S. Have you read this book? Would you recommend it?

[thelittlestcheshire]

Hello! I’m Katie, and this is my muse Ches. If any of you were in Luxor over the summer, you know this pain in the ass so I’m probably gonna do a quick “here’s where this brat was” recap at the bottom, along with anything I’ve changed between that Ches and this Ches! I’m really excited to be back, and I’m really looking forward to roleplaying with everyone.

I also have the habit of writing crazy long bios when I do bother to write them so there’s a tl;dr for that, also some wanted connections at the bottom. I love plotting so if you ever have any ideas, feel free to come excited scream with me here or on Discord! So without further ado ♥

TWs:  Gun Violence / Murder / Death (not by Ches), Blood, Abuse (Relationship), Cheating, Mental Illnesses, Drugs/Alcohol, Overdoses (also not by Ches / did not result in death)

Is that HAILEY CHESHIRE “CHES” ELSWOOD? Wow, they do look a lot like KATHERINE MCNAMARA. I hear SHE is a SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN year old SENIOR who originally attended CARNIFEX Academy. Word is they are an ARISTOCRAT student. You should watch out because they can be IMPULSIVE and STUBBORN, but on the bright side they can also be ENERGENIC and LOYAL. Ultimately, you’ll get to see it all for yourself. [KATIE, 23, EST, SHE/HERS]

Last Edit: 8/26/2020

♥ basics; Full Name: Hailey Cheshire “Ches” Elswood Preferred Name: Ches Elswood Age: 18 Birthday: July 19th, 2002 at 03:22 am Sexual Orientation: Biromantic bisexual Relationship Status: It’s complicated ( @ Elliot ) Occupation: Student Nationality: American [with French dual citizenship] Ches’s Car

♥ classes;

Anthropology

Shakespearean Studies

Linguistics

Latin

Music

Advanced Sociology

Advanced Psychology

World History

♥ extracurriculars;

National Honor Society

Theater Club (Actor)

Concert Band (Piano)

♥ background; Place of Birth: Paris, France Hometown: Manhattan, New York, New York Health Issues: Borderline Personality Disorder and PTSD, not that she likes to admit to it, however. She’s also highly allergic to the Perciformes family of fish (tuna, mackrel, perch , and bass). While she’s okay with the  salmoniformes (Salmon and Trout), she really doesn’t touch fish outside of... literally salmon she makes herself since that’s all she trusts ok. ((Shellfish is fine though) Traumas: Watching her mother die (mugging gone wrong/shot to death)

♥ physical; Face Claim: Katherine McNamara Eye Color: Green Hair Color: Red Height: 5′3 ½” (not at fc height quick side note) Weight: 115 lbs Tattoos, Birthmarks, Scars, etc: Mole above her belly button, a few moles on her thighs, freckles and face moles. (Face Ref 1, Face Ref 2,  Body Ref 1, Body Ref 2) . She also has a tattoo now.

♥ zodiac;

Tropical

Sun: Cancer Moon: Scorpio Mercury: Cancer Venus: Virgo Mars: Leo Jupiter: Cancer Saturn: Gemini Uranus:  Aquarius Neptune: Aquarius Pluto: Sagittarius Lilith: Aries N Node: Gemini

Placidus Orb

I ASC: Gemini II: Cancer III: Cancer IV: Leo V: Virgo VI: Libra VII: Sagittarius VIII:  Capricorn IX: Capricorn X MC: Aquarius XI: Pisces XII: Aries

♥ relatives;

Father’s Full Name: Edward Valentine Elswood Father’s Status: Alive Father’s Occupation: CEO/Owner of a multi-billion dollar luxury goods conglomerate  (net worth of 50+ Billion in fact - in turn, Elswood kids do NOT bat an eyelash at prices) Mother’s Full Name: Julia Andrieux Elswood Mother’s Status: Deceased [shot by a mugger on the twin’s 8th birthday] Future Step-Mother: Rebekah Carroll (soon to be Elswood, watch this space lol) Step-Mother’s Occupation:  Siblings: 6 brothers and sisters (family page here) Elswood-Carroll Children Oldest to Youngest:

Logan Elswood (24)

Jamie Elswood (22)

Emmett Elswood (19)

Cade Carroll (19)

Jonah / Ches Elswood (TWINS)

Flynn Carroll (16)

Effie Elswood (14)

Ella Elswood (10)

She also has a niece named Isabella (Belle) who’s now almost 8 months (DOB: 07/10/2019). Belle belongs to her oldest brother, Logan (and Belle’s mother isn’t in the picture).

This is a link to the Elswood family page if you’d like to know more about her family.

♥ relationships; Ex-Significant Other(s): Probably a handful of people tbh, hit me up if you want this as a WC Reason for Separation: Stuff not working out, Ches getting bored before she got attached, so on - she’s a flirt tbh, it takes her wanting to get invested for her to stay Current Significant Other: N/A

♥ misc;

Hobbies and Talents: Ches’s main hobbies are playing piano and archery (she forever misses her bow and arrow while she’s at school), as these are also the two things that are best at calming her down. She has an intense love for acting, so it’s not uncommon for her to be one of the first people to sign up for auditions, and she tends to sing a lot so musicals are truly her shit. It’s not uncommon to see her in the library, reading a book late a night.

However, a talent she doesn’t exactly own up to often is her talent for forgeries and lockpicking. While she doesn’t use these skills as they’re intended for often, she does tend to practice them a lot, so she’s not rusty for when they are actually useful.

Pinterest Section // Musings Tag // Playlist (it’s an in general Ches playlist tho)

Ches speaks English and French fluently, her mother was born and raised in Paris so she learnt them both at the same time

DO NOT CALL HER HAILEY unless you really want to end up on her shit list, it’s her biggest pet peeve, she will glare at you for hours.

She’s the mom friend if your mom friend also goes “I HAVE THE BEST IDEA” and drags you into trouble. Literally, the one who frets over you and proceeds to get you into trouble.

This muse does what she wants, I just write it down I apologize always for her

Doesn’t really... seriously date too much because of past situations (Her older brother slept with the first person she truly loved) and she tries to avoid falling in love

That being said platonic I love yous are her shit, she loves her friends a LOT

Ches is very serious about her studying (and wanting to be among the best of the best because - this girl has Ivy league college dreams and she has no intents on fucking those up), so like expect her to do shit like read an entire textbook at the start of school and study at midnight when her insomnia is kicking her ass.

She’s a bit of a closet nerd - if you look under her bed she has a chest of comic books, she’ll just lie if you ask her about them

Ches left Luxor due to a family emergency in October, it was a really hard decision (and it was a really hard decision to come back). She is just now coming back to school.

She got her tattoo while she was away from school, using a forged note of parental consent in New Jersey.

♥ bio;

TWs: Gun Violence, Murder, Death, Blood, Abuse (Relationship), Cheating, Mental Illnesses

Growing up as an Elswood means two things, you have a lot of siblings and a lot of money. Her parents had decided to raise their children in Manhattan, New York, where they could keep a close eye on their multi-billion dollar conglomerate. Her mother, Julia, would take them on trips constantly too - when she wanted to get the children away from the hustle and bustle of the city they’d go to their vacation home upstate, or their private island, or even to visit their family in Paris. At that point in life, Ches was happy. She had a solid group of friends, she had the best friend she could ever imagine having in the form of her twin brother, she had a loving and warm family, and she had a parent who would tell her no.

When she thinks back to her life before the incident, it feels like a completely different story. A fairytale even, perfect and happy in every way compared to her life now. However, it wouldn’t last, after all, fairy tales didn’t exist and reality was a much crueler mistress. One could say Lin-Manuel Miranda described it best; “life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes.”

Everything changed on her eighth birthday when her mother took her out shopping to get a present for twin brother Jonah at Palisades Mall. A man came up with a gun while they were in the parking lot and asked for all of their money. Julia Elswood compiled but she made one mistake, the simple utterance of “Cours, Ches” as she gave the man her purse.

Ches might have gotten out of the event alive, but not she was not unscathed. Julia Elswood was pronounced dead when medics finally arrived on the scene, her blood coating her daughter’s hands and clothing from Ches’s attempts to stop the bleeding. She might have survived the event without physical harm but she was never the same child she was before after that.

One day she had an intact family, the next day the Elswoods were in ruin. Her father completely shut himself out from the family, only coming out for birthdays and holidays. Her oldest brother stepped up as their parental figure, first starting out with homeschooling before he eventually dropped out to ensure his siblings were getting as much of his time as they possibly could. He tried his hardest to make the loss of their mother easier on the younger girls especially, given how young they were at the time. She helped him with the girls as much as she could (and overtime she slowly started filling the role as their second parent). Because of how busy the younger Elswood children kept him, sometimes Logan didn’t have the time to comfort Ches when she woke up in the middle of the night, haunted by their mother.

That was when Emmett stepped in. It wasn’t uncommon for him to sleep on her floor so he’d be there when she woke up terrified out of her mind, and he was there when she just eventually stopped sleeping like people tended to. Over time she realized that Jonah and her weren’t truly two peas in a pod the way they used to be, that Emmett was the only Elswood who truly got her. He wasn’t perfectly normal either, his thoughts and feelings were flawed like hers.

In a family that made her feel so broken at times, Emmett was a saving grace - a reminder she wasn’t alone.

Going to school in Carnifex was an easy decision when you felt so alone at home, at school she found a close group of people she loved and cared about - she felt less alone and less like her family were judging her, and when the feeling came up - she could always toss herself back into her schoolwork and pretend that maybe, just maybe, she was just a normal kid living a normal boring life. Family issues easily bred vulnerability though, and it was that vulnerability that was exploited not long before she was set to start Carnifex.

Long-distance relationships weren't’ supposed to be easy, but when she fell in love for the first time. At the time, she had thought she was as fucked up as she could ever be, that at this point she was just focused on healing the wounds her mother’s death had left in therapy and after that, everything would be fine. James Ruth quickly showed her how mistaken she had been, even now she doesn’t like thinking about everything he had done to her. She doesn’t discuss everything he had put her through in the time they were together nor does she have any intentions on truly discussing the worst of the abuse she endured while dating him and she was home - even in therapy. It did, however, have an effect on her, it made her terrified of truly falling in love with somebody again.  (Note: James is also a massive reason why she doesn't get along with her brother Jamie, the two Elswood siblings never recovered from Jamie sleeping with Ches’s boyfriend. It causes a good deal of tension in the Elswood home but Ches can’t just forgive him, her brother never even apologized for his actions, she wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t hurt her because her father wanted them to get along for his own sake. They were on the rocks before this and afterward, the tension just got a whole lot worse.)

Going back to Carnifex her sophomore year was a key factor in helping Ches get away from her relationship, and it became as much of a home for her than her actual home was the longer she attended. Sure, she still misses her younger sisters, she misses Emmett and Camellia, and she misses her friends in the city. She also dislikes just how restricted she truly is when it comes to Instagram and trying to grow her influence while she attends Carnifex. Networking had to wait until she was home and sometimes she questions why she decided boarding school was a good idea. And then Ches looks at her friends, at the education she’s receiving, and all the fond memories she’s developing. Carnifex, and now Luxor, was well worth the fear of missing out she feels. 

If you had asked her at the start of this school year, she would have told you nothing could have gotten her to leave school for any amount of time her senior year, she had spent the whole summer at Luxor (even after hearing about her baby niece, that meant a lot) - she finally settled in, she couldn’t imagine anything happening that would cause her to leave the academy. And then, on October 16th at two am in the morning, she got a phone call from Ella. Their oldest brother, Logan, had overdosed. While his drug addiction had never been a secret to the family, his relapse had been a surprise to Ches. Her brother had sworn up and down he was fine, that everything at home was okay. Going back to New York was a no brainer, her family needed her - and she needed them.

Logan, who’d been the closest thing to a parent she had since her mother died, almost died - she almost lost all the parental figures she ever knew. It was hard, getting adjusted back to New York City, she threw herself into her school work and did her best to fill the shoes Logan left open as he went through rehab, and then, adjusted back to being home. While she stayed in touch with the people she had at Luxor, she wouldn’t come back until her brother way okay - until she felt safe about leaving him with his daughter and their siblings without her as a backup. Coming back to school this time was really hard on her, the homesickness is worse than ever and she’s constantly trying to check in on her siblings (because mom!Ches is truly in full force and she’s trying to get it back down) but she’s glad to be back. She’s missed being at Luxor, a lot, so she’s glad to be back.

TLDR / quick important notes bio recap for rereads:

Ches’s mother was murdered on her 8th birthday in front of her

She was raised by her oldest brother, Logan, and is NOT close to her father really. She also helped raise her younger sisters and is very protective of them.

The Elswood she is closest to is Emmett, Jonah and her grew apart after her mother’s death.

Ches’s first real love was James (an NPC), they dated (entire)Freshman-(mid)Sophomore years, it was abusive (much more than Ches will ever discuss unless she gets majorly close to someone and they HAVE to know (cough still hasn’t happened though cough)) and Ches is now terrified of falling in love again. Her messy as fuck relationships & exes all start after this point.

Ches’s history at Luxor is pretty much in-tact, changes will be below in another section!

Ches left Luxor because of her oldest brother, Logan, overdosing. He is alive but she stayed in NYC until he was out of rehab / stabilized in order to take care of her younger siblings and her niece, Belle.

Notable Luxor Notes:

Anything relating to Thomas (for those of you who know what I mean) really hasn’t occurred, so if you mention it she’ll just be like “who?” This seems like the easiest course of action given how things were left off

Other muses of note I’m not going to account for are: Asher (more will be added as needed).

Ches isn’t a member of the Churchill Circle (I’m leaning towards was never one either just because the reasons she joined are no longer a factor so... she probably wouldn’t have ever joined)

If anyone wants to change history and/or keep it intact, feel free to dm me to let me know and I’ll update this accordingly. 

Wanted Connections:

Exes (when Ches dates it’s not for long, but she’s definitely the type to be like “I’ll go out with you” if asked and then... dump you if she thinks she’s getting too attached. So her exes are either on good terms, neutral terms, or they probably dislike her a lot)

Former friends with benefits - while Ches is no longer taking on new ones because of Elliot (and is starting to wean off her current ones), I’m always willing to headcanon past things!

FRIENDSHIPS  (I am weak af for a good friendship plot, never be afraid to be like “hey can our muses be friends” the answer is legit always yes)

Enemies (Ches can... be a lot so it’s not unlikely she’s pissed people off ok)

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E54 (March 12, 2019)

Four years ago today, Critical Role premiered!

This week’s guests are Marisha Ray and Travis Willingham!

Announcements: Gen Con: live show Friday, August 2nd, with a panel on Saturday! VIP Tickets on sale 3/19 at 10 AM Eastern, GA the next day. The cast will also be at ECCC this weekend! The Kickstarter has broken $7m (and more specific goals)!

And it’s time to discuss Episode 54: Well Beneath!

Stats for this episode! It’s been 117 days and 38 episodes since Beau last trained directly with Dairon. Beau has used 132 ki points. Fjord has cast Misty Step 11 times via the Summer’s Dance falchion.

Despite the loss, Beau feels pretty good about her and Jester’s display in the Four Corners; as soon as Dairon revealed herself, “she was like, okay, yes.” Had Dairon been revealed, Marisha suspects they either would’ve had to fight the whole bar... or undertake a second rescue mission.

Fjord’s interested in the ways in which Caduceus interacts with the Wildmother; part of that is wanting a deeper understanding, and part of it is knowing he’s probably going to need some sort of godly help with his current situation.

Marisha has been waiting as a player for Beau to have a bit of a moment of realization about her motivations for doing good; the encounter with Dairon was ideal for that, and they were one of the only people from whom it would really sink in.

Fjord’s reaction is “pure panic” every time he sees orcs. “There’s almost a false expectation with Fjord. He wants to sit down and have a drink with an orc.” He has a lifetime of questions for them---there weren’t a lot of orcs around in Port Damali---but hadn’t realized how many of them aren’t big conversationalists.

Brian: “Does part of Beau respect when someone calls her out?” Marisha: “100%. She’s a bit of a bully, and she knows it, so she’s going to respect people when they push back a bit. I’m not saying that’s healthy.” Brian brings up the contrast with the more archetypal beginnings of the VM characters. Travis points out that they’re still fleshing out the characters. “Why would you want to do everything safely and properly from the get-go?” Marisha brings up how D&D is a safe way to experience that kind of risk-taking and failure, and builds empathy. Marisha: “I didn’t like people like Keyleth---I didn’t undertand them that much---until I was Keyleth for... four years?”

Dairon was the first authority figure “who didn’t give up on Beau and think she was too difficult to be worth investing time into.” Beau deals with abandonment issues with her parents, and that definitely comes through with her interactions with Dairon.

Talks Machina exclusive reveal from Creative Director Marisha Ray: “Turns out, Beau? Uk’otoa the whole time.”

Fjord feels more comfortable in The City of Beasts---despite feeling very out of place---than somewhere like Port Damali, just because the focus is off of him for now.

Gif of the Week: serious table vs. party table.

Is it upsetting to be only 2 HP away from a victory? “Since I didn’t get my mentor captured by the opposing army... I... appreciate it... for story beats,” Marisha says, completely convincingly. “WHY THE FUCK, THOUGH?”

Brian asks if there’s any mistake they made in the show that they still dwell on. Marisha: “My meltdown during the Kraken fight? That was tough.” Travis found that fight especially hard, too. Brian points out that, while there’s a bit of a reset button for mistakes because they come back in to play the game every week regardless, it can also be tough because “this shit lives on the internet”.

Everyone reminisces about the goldfish incident from campaign 1.

Beau’s affirmation to Dairon that she only “kinda” trusts the M9 was accurate, knowing them. She doesn’t think there would be malice involved, but...

“Vandren would often say, ‘Nobody cares. Keep going.’” A lot of Fjord’s tough-love approach to interrogation comes from Vandren (although part of the intimidation was Travis belatedly realizing he has a pretty high intimidation bonus).

Fan Art of the Week: super cute fanart of everyone!

On Beau processing Dairon’s advice to not get attached: “I don’t know, man. Still unpacking that one. That’s going to take a bit.” Brian talks about how that’s an interesting part of the mentor archetype: at some point, you disagree with your mentor, often because of the lessons they taught you. Marisha notes that Beau was a little shocked back at Dairon’s level of contempt for the Krynn; that was the first crack.

Is Fjord actually yelling “Eldritch Blast!” in battle? “You bet your ass he is! He is a Dragonball Z fan, and that attack cannot be loosed without the proper wordage!”

Everyone’s looking forward to a full Beau arc! Marisha’s had time to flesh things out, “but there’s also the truth that Beau’s young; she’s human, in her twenties. Only so much can happen to her.”

Beau didn’t tell Dairon about the Beacon. “Beau is weighing all the information she has, ‘cause she knows it’s valuable.”

Bonus Search for Grog Questions! SPOILERS ENSUE

They both loved revisiting their characters. There’s pictures somewhere of everyone staring at their old character sheets before the show---Marisha in particular had pages upon pages of stuff.

Sir Bertrand Bell was “100%” inspired by Gilderoy Lockhart. Runaway Bride was also on TV, and Travis grabbed some inspiration there as well: “Richard Gere’s a handsome little son of a bitch.”

Marisha and Matt had talked about how they didn’t want the whole one-shot to be “a bummer”, so Keyleth chose to take this trip as a distraction and an excuse for compartmentalization.

Reaction to Liam’s character? Marisha: “Oh, FUCK YOU, bro. Fuck you.” She wasn’t actually mad, but in Keyleth’s eyes, it was a walking reminder.

Travis never thought he’d top the Kevdak moment, and it’s still at the top just for the importance to Grog’s character, but the odds of those natural twenties at the end... “I’ve scored touchdowns that didn’t mean that much to me.” It was the same die he used in the Kevdak fight.

Apart from their own characters, which were they most excited to see again? Percy. The massive damage, the Percy one-liners... Scanlan’s songs. The first time Vex said “Darling.” Pike saying “Grog?!”

Also, Brian desperately wants to host The Bachelor. “ABC, I know you’re listening.”

Brian just sort of wanders off with Henry until Max shuts down the bit. “Okay, that’s it.”

[supernoondles]

2019

The last day of 2019 was also the day I fainted for the first time--a fitting metaphor for the year.

2019 was overall very emotionally taxing. This year was emotionally defined by falling intensely, deeply in love with someone (who is a very private person so I will try to be vague to respect that) and being in a lot of pain because of situations mostly outside of our control. There were a lot of intensely joyous moments, and a lot of intensely sad ones. Throughout it all I wish I had communicated better. I also made some bad decisions with another person I really loved and cared about that resulted in us growing apart. Do I think I grew from the experiences? For sure. Do I wish I could have come upon these realizations through a different course of action? Also yes. Am I fully healed from the experiences? Not really, but I've been getting better.

2019 was also very bad in terms of research. It was the 2nd year of my PhD. After I submitted my rotation project I basically felt stuck in the swamp of my advisors rejecting new project ideas for like literally half a year. This, combined with my high emotional volatility (partially due to starting birth control), made me really sad, unmotivated, and susceptible to self-blame. I definitely had high expectations for myself and became frustrated at my lack of progress and felt a lot of pressure from myself to get my shit together. I also felt incredibly bad after most advisor meetings and not supported by one of them to the point where I had to have a conversation with him about the lack of support (which was very scary)! Things started picking up, though, near the end of the year. I published a paper in collaboration with a former post-doc/now professor elsewhere whom I learned a lot from, and started finally building out another system. I also started mentoring an undergrad who at some point told me I helped him feel like he had something important to say and belong at Stanford for the first time and those words meant a lot to me. I think I'm continuing to refine what I value as research contributions and increasingly think about what it means to build systems that aren't used outside of the lab to satisfy the annual conference publishing cycle. I'm also starting to feel the pressure of doing work that follows a narrative rather than random projects that interest me.

Oh, I guess in terms of "program requirements," I did finish taking required classes, passed qualifying exams, and got a master's degree. But honestly those weren't hard at all nor do I think are externally valued in the larger research community, so I don't really celebrate them as accomplishments beyond surface level.

In 2019 I saw two different therapists. The first one was awful, I think directly influenced some of my bad decisions, and also didn't respect my gender identity??? The second one is a lot better and I'm grateful to see her, even if 90% of our sessions are just talking about my relationship (romantic/advisor) issues, which is something I want to move away from in the future. But I also feel incredibly privileged when relationship issues are the primary stressors in my life--I am grateful I feel equipped to handle other crap, like deadlines, and don't have to worry about my own health.

Those were the main things that have colored this year. We'll now move into the section of this post where I go through my photos to jog my memory of other events.

New years started a tradition of getting dim sum with Jasper, Matthew, and Michelle dear to my heart. My high school friend was also visiting and we all attended a really awesome new year's eve party. I was also going on a lot of dates and having a lot of good sex, which made me really happy, and at the same time crying all the time at work. In February I received probably the best gift anyone has ever given me and saw Panic! at the Disco, which I said in an end of the year group meeting was a good memory of my year (it was, to relive my scene days!). In March I roadtripped both to Marin (which I had never to been before, despite all my years in the bay) and LA for Wondercon; it was nice to both see high school friends and go on a trip with the boo. In April I went on a hike with my office which was probably the start of us all becoming closer (we are the social office in the wing now, which I take pride in! Also we draw a lot of Pokemon which warms my heart). In May I went to CHI in Glasgow and then to Paris afterward, and the entire experience was very weird and bad and also too many flights were canceled and/or missed and I vowed to not return to Europe for a while, but man do I love the noodles at Trois Fois plus de Piment. In June we hosted a double apartment party with my downstairs neighbors (side note: I am really appreciative of the place I live in, for the community, convenience, and large-ass space and will be really sad to be kicked out fall 2020) and I started a friendship important to me. I cat-sat for my advisor (the one who doesn't make me feel bad) twice. I went to Redwood State Park with my family and hosted a summer solstice celebration. Over the summer a friend I met in Paris back in 2017 moved in with me. I had a much needed escape from the bay to Seattle where I was reminded how abundant the world can be. I also went to Tahoe to celebrate my parents' anniversary, and really liked stumbling upon a smaller lake with a cheap boat rental. Then I became FOMO about the highly competitive Bay Area camping and did a last minute walk-in at Redwood Basin in Santa Cruz, which made me realize that I don't actually love camping (but was nice nonetheless). I ate an expensive meal at Commonwealth before they closed. For my birthday we made a friendship quilt and I served my favorite dish of cumin lamb but it was also 90 degrees in my apartment (I felt really bad and bought two fans afterwards). I started buying many cartoon frog plush after being gifted a $3.99 on sale Safeway frog (called Baby!). I went on Tinder dates (one of which was at a quaker yard sale marketed as Harvest Festival where I got a 1970s Kermit puppet for like $2) that largely went nowhere. My high school friend visited and we were both sad about break ups. I did Inktober before I went to New Orleans for a conference on Bourbon St where everything felt like it was coated in a sticky film of alcohol. I almost missed my flight home because I fell asleep in a sculpture garden but I had the most amazing Uber driver who snaked his way through traffic (oh and the flight was delayed by like 3 hours). I went to kind of embarrassing haunted houses and pumpkin patches over Halloween, but also had the most incredible bowl of ramen at Mensho. My whole office dressed up as Zootopia characters which warmed my furry heart. I spent like $120 on a Pokemon shirt. I started playing Arkham Horror and rekindled another friendship important to me. In November went on a road trip to Big Sur because again, I had to escape it all. For Christmas Eve dinner I roasted a duck for the first time (which was delicious). Shortly after I waited in line for 2 hours for a rollercoaster at Great America, which taught me the value of buying a fast pass because at this point in my life that money is worth it, and then waited 2 hours in line at the DMV to get a RealID (I had made an appointment, which was the fast pass).

Okay, now we move to the hobby section!

I got really into sewing in 2019, having received a sewing machine last Christmas. I made a Judy Hopps (which I wore to CrunchyRoll Expo) and Korok cosplay (Fanime), several unsuccessful garments, a crab bean bag, a dice bag, a fanny pack, and put hearts nipples on a jumpsuit.

Shows! I think I went to way fewer shows this year. The ones I can remember are Elephant Gym, Thom Yorke the night before I had an 8am flight, Carly Rae Jepsen over pride weekend (also, she is my #1 artist of the year, which makes a lot of sense given my emotional space), Mitski at Stern Grove, Capitol Hill Bloc Party (which was super lame, except for Lizzo, where I cried), and the National (which was a fucking surreal experience as they played on Stanford's campus, I was the only one within earshot of myself who knew the words to Crybaby Geeks, and then the white catalog moms came up to me after to thank me for singing the song).

I also started playing my own music! I started playing viola again for the first time in 7 years (lol) in both pop-up concerts with the Awesome Orchestra (one in Golden Gate Park, one at the Exploratorium) and a string quartet through my school. Sometimes I am filled with joy and delight. Other times interpersonal tensions run high and also I am very bad at being in tune. It's life.

Media! I really liked Mob Psycho 100 Season 2 and Beastars. I feel like those were the only notable anime I watched this year? I saw the Farewell three times--first in Seattle where I sobbed for like 1 hour after the movie, the second time with my parents, and the third where Awkwafina was present for a Q&A. I thought Parasite was incredible and Promare was OK. I have spent an unfortunately large amount of my time playing Pokemon Masters. I finally beat BOTW and completed my Pokedex in Shield like 2 weeks after getting the game.

Resolutions! In my draft of my 2018 end of year post (which I never polished and posted, sorry), I said my resolutions were 1. come out to my parents 2. draw enough to table at an anime con 3. be disciplined about paper reading and have a doc. I did none of these things!!! However, for 1, I feel like I am well equipped to have this conversation but am waiting for my sibling to do it first out of respect. 2 was just bad. I barely drew this year except for gifts. 3 was okay--I did have a large doc in the beginning of the year when I was looking for ideas, but as time went on I abandoned it (I also stopped reading papers, which I don't think you're supposed to do as a grad student...)

My resolutions this year are phrased as intentions (-(c) Matthew). They span several categories. Relationships: I want to open myself to and actively seek experiences of love, because I miss that. That being said, I will only date someone if 1. they have their life together 2. they love themselves and 3. they challenge me to grow. (I do think you can experience love without dating; the thing I'm after is love in an expansive sense.) Work: I want to do enough work so I don't feel guilty about not doing enough work, and also not berate myself for taking a long time to do things. Hobbies: I want to sew at least one thing a month. Chinese: I want to improve my Chinese, especially pronunciation.

Having written this 20 days into 2020, it's not been so bad so far. But I was also really happy in the beginning of 2019. Here's to no global maxima, a monotonically increasing year!

[crankyvic]

Another Year, Stand Still Emotions

2019 came and went. The last time I wrote, it was a trip to Vero. Something happened there. I had anal sex with him, according to the diary. In the summer of 2019, we went to Santa Fe. It was a good trip. My head was in the right space. I was confident, busy and undoubtedly in charge. I was good. Then our last and final trip to Vegas. It was an uneventful one. I had been with him for 8 years at that point. I made a point to see him whenever I could. I hardly remember what we did. We were getting along fabulously.

Then 2020 happened. I get a real break during Chinese New Year because things are shut down at the HQ, consequently the trip I take with him - on Chinese New Year period, tends to be more intense because I have an idle mind. Idle mind is a very confused mind. I resort back to my original feeling. 

This is how our story ended - http://crankyvic22.blogspot.com/2011/12/game-of-ice-cream-may-31-1998-salt-lake.html.  That dedicated story written on May 31, 1998, a month and half since I started seeing him, I made a determination to end it. I was afraid of losing to him. The man who loved playing games of dating, playing that sensitive boyfriend who is known to break woman’s heart. I was smarter than that so I ended that. “I played cautiously and intensely. I was drawn to your game more so than I first expected. You were so at ease in this game that I thought you were for real. I was fascinated by your intensity and sensitivity. It was a rare quality. Hence I was convinced that you weren't for real. You were too good to be real. You were setting traps for this game that we were playing. The first one who fell for the other will be the ultimate loser and I was determined not to be the one. I was getting more and more involved in your defined game, however. I was getting more intense and more vulnerable to you. I was also getting clingy to you - that truly scared me. I was afraid that one day when you call it quits I'd still want to play the game, yet  you'd already vaporized like the morning fog and I’d cry over the loss of my game mate. God help me! You kissed me when I wasn't watching, you stole the kisses from me like a little boy stole his favorite candy from a jar hidden by the adults in a secret cabinet. We felt asleep in each other's arms at night. I woke up in the middle of the night, you were on your side of the bed, arms reaching out to my side of the bed. I just realized that all this time you had been holding my hand. You were the master of the game, when you invented it, you had carefully covered each of your foot steps. You could never lose.”

This is how our story evolved - http://crankyvic22.blogspot.com/2011/12/chasing-blonde-ghost-in-my-pocket-june.html. The second story was written in June 2018. “Sometimes it feels better when you are not around that often. Your absence provides me with a comfort zone. In this zone I build you up, I see you through filtered lenses and I write stories about the filtered you.  In my stories I can afford to fall for you and be obsessed about you.” I wrote. 

In the fall of 2011, I remet him. We like to call this the beginning of a new relationship. He used the term “re-met”. I wrote this http://crankyvic22.blogspot.com/2011/12/this-time-san-francisco-stories-4.html - “When I was with him, paradoxically, I felt both sexually charged and anxious; and, yet, emotionally settled and at ease. I was just myself.  I was never like this with others, through the last nine years of my thirties, or in my more adventurous twenties. I was often inquisitive about the future; I despised the notion of que sera sera. I needed an answer always, often right away, and when the answer was not presented to me, when I couldn’t figure out where things were going, I panicked, retreated, drew a conclusion, and moved on. I could never settle on one person, at one time. I needed my heart to be in different places, lingering over different people, to feel whole. But not anymore.  I had grown up, as it turned out, I could, after all these years, learn that you didn’t have to parlay your heart to win your hand. In fact, life did not have to be a gamble; life could be just, life: calm, chaotic, uncertain yet inspiring.  You didn’t have to change yourself, or others. You could be OK with whichever direction this detour would take you.”

I re-read the stories I wrote of him, span over 22 years, of the same man, who has grown to be this middle age man of 54 years of age, who has given me something I was unable to get from others, that physical intensive love affair that lasted over 8 years, and still counting.

We are still in love. But we saw each other once a month, at most. That’s roughly 10-12 times a year (let’s say 11 times) x 8 years = 88 days. We are now officially around 3 months of relationship if this was a new relationship. So yes technically 22 years since I met him in April 1998, but in truth, since we remet in 2011, 88 days together, still new, still crazy in love stage.

One of the things we did was up our game. Anal last year, this year, a nudist colony where you can fuck anywhere on the premise, and you can watch others fucking. We did a bit of both. Very liberating, and he did this for me because he knows I like such things. I like being naked. So does him, another thing we have in common.

Do I love him? Yes. Does he love me? He says that he does. He says I’m the love of his life. He tells others about me. He wants me to go and visit his best friend in Norway. And meet his BFF’s wife. She won’t like it. He’d say. Yes I’m still married and he’s with his partner raising two kids. They are practically married. But the milestone is the idea of him bringing me to see his BFF, who happens, as the world is a rather small place, an old colleague of mine. His BFF is aware of my existence, and apparently, so is a woman he had a relationship with. Someone who’s into BDSM and they were together doing kinky stuff until - well, until I said, no I want to go exclusive and no please don’t fuck others, and I guess until he fell in love with me. Until he and I happened.

On up the game. He is in love with me. We continue our journey as two middle age people who cannot be separate despite my best effort to cut him off. I feel exactly the same about him when I first dated him in April 1998. I have never felt anything like this for anyone before. I simply find him incredibly attractive and I can’t believe how ridiculous I feel when I’m around him. There is always that one person. For me, it’s him. He says that he loves me so much. And this time, he asked me to marry him. He is a guy who has never been married. He thinks marriage is not for him and he would never get married. That’s what he told me when we first remet and throughout the years. And this time, on this trip in January 2020, he said “I want you to marry me.” I laughed and asked if this was a proposal, he recognized his error, and said “Yes there are still a few steps.” Referring to the fact that I’m already married and a divorce need to take place first before marriage. But how did this come up? How did I become the person for him to marry? I’m baffled.

It always happens this way. We go away for a trip. I hear all the greatest love sound bites from him. Then we get home and I don’t hear from him for weeks. It’s like he needs to do a detox - detox from me. I write to him until I don’t hear from him for days. Then I stop for a while. I will wait for him to miss me again before reaching back out. I take the opportunity to recollect myself and stop my crazy senses of longing, and self pity. I cry every time I’m with him.

Lying on that big round bed, I asked him questions about his past, other entanglement and the dissolution of those. He tells me one of the last ones. How they ended. Because of us. He would say. Because he wanted to be with me, so he terminated others. He tells me stories he has had with countless women. He likes to tell me such stories. he says it’s because I like to hear about them. I do. But I also like to figure out what is that he wants from me and where I stand in his relationships with women. I was overwhelmed by his description of our relationship and how it has affected the way he approaches other women. I still don’t trust him but he tells me that he has stopped sleeping with other women. Only with me. I don’t trust him.

Esther Peril’s Small Town Affair is about me. And him. I can’t trust him. I never could. But he reminded me of my dad. Apparently I reminded him of his mother. We both have complicated stories about our parents. We see each other as the de facto parent.

8 years. I still can’t trust him. I can’t trust that he loves me. I love him and I have plenty to love. But I can’t imagine that he wants to be with me. Spoiler alert: I don’t believe that I deserve to be loved. So how could he ever really love me? 

I was held by him and he told me that he just wants to protect me. Care for me. Like the father I never had. I was abandoned by my parents when I was 11. I was repeatedly abused since I was little. I don’t deserve to be loved. Not by anyone, and not by this man who would marry me because - I think he knows that is what he wants from me. He wants that level of commitment to show how much he loves me. I don’t understand why else he would do that.

I fell asleep crying. I cried because my feeling for him remains so intense. It’s like 1998 all over again.

“We belong together. We belong with each other. We are perfect for each other.” These are the words he would say over and over again.

“What would you tell your friends who know about us?” He says “I’d tell them you are the love of my life.”

I cry. I shed tears and fall asleep in his arms like I did in 1998. 

At airport when we part ways, he leave me with “I love you.” I was caught by surprise. I thought “I love you” coming from him is only reserved for pillow talk.

I can love with full abandon. I still don’t believe why he loves me. I cry and I cry. I want him to leave me. I think that’s how it should end. Him leaving me. He, breaking my heart. That would be the ending I prefer. Not him falling in love with me. Not this version of him who wants to get married. 

I wish he would never write back again. I wish he could just drop off from my world. I don’t actually wish that but it would prove to me that he is not to be trusted. I can’t afford to be loved. What if I did let him in and he would then break my heart? I am as scared as when I was 25. No matter how much love declarations he makes, I find myself having a hard time trusting him. So I cry. Like I cried 22 years ago. When I’m away from him.

[c-j-writes]

Fictober 2019

Prompt #3 “Now? Now you listen to me?”

[Untitled Gay Mess]

Rating: T

Warnings/Tags: Will involve drug abuse in later chapters

Chapter Three

The alarm on my phone blares right next to me the next morning. My hand lifts to snooze the damn thing and I roll over to sink back into the warm bed. When I roll over though, my arm bumps into a lump in the bed beside me. I drag my eyes open just slightly enough to make out the mass of blonde hair in front of my face. I’m fully going to blame it on being close to unconsciousness at the moment, but when I realized where I was, I sunk into the pillow and wrapped my arm around Soph’s torso. 

Her breathing moved my arm up and down rhythmically and I felt myself nearing sleep again. The warmth that radiated from the blankets and Sophie made me feel more than comfortable. Not really thinking about it, I pulled closer to her and rested my head on her shoulder. I could live like this. It was so warm and cozy and comfortable and I didn’t have to worry about anything at that moment. 

Then the moment was over. My late alarm started bleeping and Soph’s regular alarm went off too. Doing my best to stay still and pretend I was asleep, I ignored them for a few seconds. Sophie stirred next to me and I cursed the universe for making today a school day. The blonde groaned and swatted at the table on her left, trying to find her phone and shut it up. With some mumbled curses and more banging, she finally turned it off and then groaned again when she found that my phone was making noise as well. 

“Ands, as touching as this show of emotion is, we’ve got to get up,” she mumbles. Something in her tone whips me right back to reality. I lean over and end the assault on our ears, shifting to stand up out of the bed. The cold aches to my bones in comparison to the warmth I’d been surrounded in. But I make myself keep moving and trudge over to the set of drawers where I know some of my clothes are hidden in. 

Soph and I had been friends since middle school. We’d had more sleepovers than I could think of counting.  Naturally, we’d both accumulated drawers and closet space in each other’s rooms. Sometimes it felt like Soph actually took over more space in my room than I did. It made these impromptu sleepovers easier to manage. 

From her bed, Soph was still fighting sleep and trying to untangle her limbs from the blanket with as little effort as possible. While she was still struggling to move, I found an outfit and slipped across the hall to the bathroom. Sure, I’ve changed in front of Soph before, but I’ve always felt the least bit of awkwardness in my gut when I did. It was just more comfortable to change in the bathroom instead. 

When I stepped back into the room, having washed the sleep out of my face, I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Sophie still dozing on the bed. 

“Soph, you’re the one who said we had to get up,” I commented, pulling at the blankets surrounding her. She groaned, covering her eyes with her arm. “Don’t make me drag you, it’s too early for that.” 

“Like you wouldn’t love it.” The comment made me drop the blanket from my hands. I stepped back, absently watching as she finally sat up and turned to get out of the bed. She moved around the room, getting ready for the day without a care in the world. But I felt like I couldn’t move. 

She’d made comments like that before. Jokes about how I was always around girls and how I acted more like a guy sometimes. She’d even cracked up when she thought about the fact that I’ve only ever had one boyfriend back in middle school and it lasted less than a month. I was used to it. I always laughed along because they were just jokes. But the way she said it, something about the tone or the setting or the timing… something. All I could think about was one of the mornings I woke up after spending the night with Mack. 

She had basically forced me into agreeing to a movie night. Her parents had been away somewhere, maybe a trip or just an evening out, I don’t remember if I even asked. Neither of us meant to fall asleep, she was supposed to drive me home before midnight. Instead, I woke up to soft snores and a hundred angry messages from my father. After he forgave me for scaring him shitless, Mack made it a mission of hers to have movie nights every week. My father never cared where I went, as long as I told him whether or not I’d be home. 

The memories of those mornings were something I’ve been trying to push as far out of my mind as I could. They were supposed to stay in the world of summer and not mix in with the world of school. The world of sports and friends and teammates and everything my normal life consists of. But here I was, thinking about the fairy lights that hang off of her windows and the posters that are tacked on her ceiling. I tried to think of how annoyingly persistent she’s been, but all I could remember was the smile that would light up the room when she opened her eyes. 

“Earth to Andy,” Sophie said, throwing a pillow from her bed at me. I shook my head, bringing myself back to the room I was in. “Now? Now you listen to me?” She rolls her eyes at me and finishes making her bed. “Where did you go?” I pulled my lips into a smile and laughed.

“Nowhere, just tired. It’s too fucking early.” 

“God, you’re not wrong.” I could tell from her voice that she was very hungover. Soph leads the way out of her room and downstairs. Her father is still asleep, as usual, but her mother smiles at us as we hit the kitchen. Her mom is one of those moms that doesn’t have a job so she takes her role as a stay at home wife way too seriously. She always has breakfast ready when Soph wakes up and keeps the pantries stocked full for whenever anyone visiting wants a snack. My mom was never like that, but I didn’t mind. 

“Good morning, girls,” Soph’s mom chirped, taking a tray of bagels out of the oven and setting them on the counter for us to take from. 

“Morning, Mrs. D,” I replied. Sophie poured herself a fresh cup of coffee as I grabbed a bagel and started spreading cream cheese on it. 

“How was your first day yesterday?” Sophie kept quiet, paying more attention to her drink and her phone.

“It was good, I’m glad to be getting back to the routine of it, you know?” Mrs. Drake hummed, continuing to smile as she rounded the kitchen and made sure all the surfaces were spotless. “I’m probably going to get the team together to practice some drills after school since it’s been a while since our last practice.” 

“Oh, are you excited for the season this year, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah, we’ve still got a few months and everything, but I’m really excited. There’s going to be a lot of recruiters around and everything, so yeah.” Soph grabbed my arm then and started dragging me to the door. 

“Alright, enough bonding, we have to get to school, Mom.” I waved to Mrs. Drake as we left the house. 

“Alright, I hope you two have a good day!” Sophie rolled her eyes, but I smiled. One of my favorite parts of being over at Soph’s house was how nice her mom was. It was hilarious how such a sarcastic and snappy human could come from someone so sweet and chipper.

Sophie chugged her coffee on our way to the car, almost finishing it by the time we climbed in. “We’re going to need to hit Starbucks on our way,” she muttered as she jammed the key in the ignition. 

It isn’t until I’m staring into my locker before the first period that I notice the absence of my bookbag. There are only a few minutes until the bell, so I shrug it off and close my locker. Sophie had already taken off to her class, wanting to sit down in hopes that her head would stop throbbing. She almost killed us multiple times on the way to school. Her driving scared me normally, but while she was hungover? We were definitely lucky to be alive.

I still had a good amount of time before class, so I walked down the hall slowly, not overly eager to get to math class. The hallways weren’t too crowded, which was surprising for it being the second day. Usually, they wouldn’t calm down until a month in or so. It was nice walking down the hall without having to worry about the congestion though. 

There was a tap on my shoulder as I was about to round the corner to the math and science hall. Before I could turn to see who it was, the brunette walked up in front of me and gave me a smile. 

“Hey, Andrea.” If I’m being honest, I debated ignoring her. After this morning, I didn’t even want to look at her. 

“It’s Andy,” I replied. She looked around the hallway and her smile faded just a bit. 

“How’s your friend?” It takes me a second to remember the exact events of the previous night. The party. Sophie being drunk off her ass. The car ride. I clear my throat.

“She’s fine, she doesn’t need you checking up on her.” Mack nodded, the smile getting the least bit brighter. 

“And how are you, Andrea?”

“Andy.” I watch her, trying to will her to stop calling me that. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?” 

“You just seemed a bit jumpy last night, wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Well, it’s fine,” I snapped, picking up my pace to leave her behind me. “And I don’t need you checking up on me either.” I heard her footsteps stop where I left her, but tried not to think about it. That’s not something I needed to be thinking about.  

[bountyofbeads]

Eight black women — including Michelle Obama — on Toni Morrison’s life and legacy

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2019/08/09/eight-black-women-including-michelle-obama-toni-morrisons-life-legacy/

Eight black women — including Michelle Obama — on Toni Morrison’s life and legacy

By Michelle Obama, Esi Edugyan, Sherrilyn Ifill, Sarah Ladipo Manyika, Tayari Jones, Jacqueline Woodson, Michele L. Norris and Leah Wright Rigueur | Published August 09 at 1:30 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted August 11, 2019 11:47 PM ET |

MICHELLE OBAMA

“We belong, she showed us, not just in paperback books but in textbooks, not just in a publishing house but in the White House.”

The summer after my senior year of high school was a slow one for me. I’d had a cyst removed from my wrist, and a heavy white cast cocooned my forearm up to my elbow. There wasn’t a lot I could do. Sidelined on my parents’ couch in the South Side heat, I picked up a paperback copy of “Song of Solomon.” I hadn’t heard of Toni Morrison yet, so I can’t say I did it because I was curious about her writing, or that I was being purposeful about supporting African American women authors. The truth was, I didn’t know anything about the book. It was simply there in the living room, just like me.

I like to think that this is the way that she would have liked it; that she’d have wanted the tidiness of her prose, the interiority of her characters, the complexity of the stories to stand on their own, away from her growing legend. Toni Morrison understood, you see, that people gravitate to what’s real. And in her writing, the truth was always right there on the dog-eared pages.

For me and for so many others, Toni Morrison was that first crack in the levee — the one who freed the truth about black lives, sending it rushing out into the world. She showed us the beauty in being our full selves, the necessity of embracing our complications and contradictions. And she didn’t just give us permission to share our own stories; she underlined our responsibility to do so. She showed how incomplete the world’s narrative was without ours in it.

It’s a thread running through “Beloved” and “Sula” and “The Bluest Eye” and all of her work — that black stories, particularly the stories of black women and black girls, are worthy of examination and celebration. Again and again, she was unapologetic about that fact, deliberate in proving that our stories are rich and deep and largely unexplored. We belong, she showed us, not just in paperback books but in textbooks, not just in a publishing house but in the White House. And on their own, our stories are more than enough to inspire a Nobel laureate.

In the years since that slow, scorching summer on the couch, I’ve read “Song of Solomon” twice more, cover to cover — once as a young professional and once more as a young mother. Each reading has revealed new lessons that accompany my own changing perspective as I’ve grown and evolved. Each reading also serves as a reminder of the patience and rigor she demands. I often find myself reading and rereading passages multiple times in order to uncover her secrets. But that work is part of what makes the act of reading her so special; that at times, you have to earn her wisdom.

I’m sure that someday I’ll pick up “Song of Solomon” again and see what new lessons it has for me at this new stage in my life, now that my own girls are off writing their own songs. That’s perhaps the best thing about Toni Morrison. It will never really matter how many years have passed since her novels were first published. The words may have been new when she wrote them, but the truth behind them wasn’t. She was simply uncovering the beauty that was always there.

Michelle Obama is the former first lady of the United States and the author of “Becoming.”

ESI EDUGYAN

“In the unexpected slide of her sentences, she was our foremost poet, our foremost truth-teller.”

In 1998, when I was an undergraduate at the University of Victoria, my father sent me a parcel. I’d gone there to study writing, and I was still reeling at the impossibility of it — still feeling myself an imposter, astonished that someone like me could even begin to think of herself as a writer. A parcel was an unusual gesture on my father’s part — we weren’t particularly close, and the weight of the package suggested more than a short letter. I opened the slender manila envelope to discover a copy of Time magazine bearing Toni Morrison’s portrait, a sticky note hastily pasted over it. My father’s scrawl read, simply, “Thought you might enjoy this.”

I could not have expected how much this simple, thoughtful gesture would change my whole sense of myself.

I had, of course, heard of Toni Morrison; when she won the Nobel Prize in 1993, I remember attempting to read “Tar Baby,” but I was young and unpracticed, 15 years old, and it was not a book for my immature sensibility. My father’s parcel sent me back to her work as a young woman — and, more important, as a budding writer — and what I found there shook me.

It seems we all have these stories — when we first discovered her work, how profoundly it marked us. For a generation of black female writers in particular, she was crucial, the one without whom nothing would have been possible. Her work spoke of our lives and directly to us, and it was also universal. She gave us the permission of visibility; she said, as much with the fact of her body as with her stirring prose, that lives that had rarely been acknowledged in serious literature without ridicule or censure not only mattered but also were a central part of the Western story. She looked directly and sometimes mercilessly at the choices of the vulnerable and at the powerful who profited off that vulnerability, and she allowed the inevitability of their tragedies to play out in ways that sometimes left us outraged or wounded, but never indifferent.

She wrote of black life in all its complexity, quarreling with the notion that the “black experience” was a single monolithic thing. She spoke as honestly about the marginalization of black people within the larger fabric of American society as about the ways black communities can fracture and sometimes turn against themselves. No one, it seemed to me, had written as soberly about the pain of colorism, about how absent fathers can derail a life, about the ways that class and gender complicate race. She dragged into the light issues plaguing lives that until then had rarely been discussed in the mainstream.

But her concerns were universal, and Morrison spoke about how thwarted desires, both grand and small, can utterly destroy a life. She was never instructive, nor was she relentlessly dark — there was always lightness, both in her touch and in her insistence on an essential human goodness. She was deeply moral without being moralizing.

And all this was written in a prose as exacting and exquisite as anything that has ever been set to paper. To read Morrison aloud is to revel in the astonishing musicality of the English language (which in these days of Twitter and Facebook is easy to forget). Her phrases were touched by the cadences of black dialects, but also by Homer and the King James Bible. I remember hearing her described as a “black Faulkner.” And yes, she did share William Faulkner’s almost alien reach with language, but she was sui generis, entirely her own creation. In the unexpected slide of her sentences, she was our foremost poet, our foremost truth teller.

Esi Edugyan is the author of “Half-Blood Blues” and “Washington Black.”

SHERRILYN IFILL

“The ‘word’ she brought forth was one of life, of dignity, of survival, of integrity.”

I always marvel when I see people reading Toni Morrison on the subway or on planes. When I read her, I am conscious that at any moment, her writing can, without warning, bring me to my knees, and provoke an embarrassing, emotional response I’d rather not have witnessed by strangers. This happened to me while reading “Home,” Morrison’s 2012 novel about a young man who returns to his hometown to save his sister Cee Money and reconcile them both to long-held family secrets.

As Cee recovers from abuse she suffered at the hands of a sadistic doctor, she is forced to address the profound issues of abandonment that made her vulnerable to abuse. Cee explains to one of the older women taking care of her that she was unloved by her mother and raised instead by a disapproving grandmother. Cee’s belief that she is unworthy of love has left her unable to protect herself. She gets no platitudes or sympathy in response. Her caretaker tells Cee that her emotionally impoverished childhood reflects her mother’s deficiency, not her own. Cee realizes that her mother should have cherished her and told her, “You my child. I dote on you. ... You born into my arms. Come on over here and let me give you a hug.”

Reading those words I unexpectedly burst into tears and wept for 20 minutes. Not tears of grief for Cee, but tears of gratitude for my own mother who, it suddenly and earth-shatteringly occurred to me, had done precisely this for me in the five short years we had together. Dying of cancer, and with nine other children who needed her love and attention, she managed to give her youngest the experience of unconditional, doting love that gave me an unshakable sense of my own worth, which I carry to this day. This is essential armor, Morrison tells us, that women need to meet the inevitable challenges to our self-esteem that we will confront in our lives.

I am also a huge fan of Morrison’s nonfiction work. Her 1992 volume about the issues of race and gender in the Clarence Thomas Supreme Court confirmation hearings was literally a bible for those who were shattered by that weeklong televised drama. She understood that to process what was for so many of us a kind of traumatic national event, we needed, as she wrote in her introduction, “perspective, not attitudes; context not anecdotes; analyses not postures.” She was there to help, assembling a “who’s who” of African American scholars who could situate this dramatic and devastating event into the framework of our historical and contemporary race and gender struggles.

And we cannot forget that Morrison’s voice was its own body of work. She was a kind of a preacher. Her interviews and speeches are mesmerizing. And the “word” she brought forth was one of life, of dignity, of survival, of integrity. When you listened to her, you believed that these were unmovable, nonnegotiable truths to which each one of us is entitled, because she so effortlessly embodied them.

Toni Morrison — who, it seemed, was always there — is gone. In her tribute to James Baldwin, Morrison wrote, “You gave us ourselves to think about, to cherish.”

This was also the gift she gave to us. Rest in power.

Sherrilyn Ifill is the president and director-counsel of the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund.

SARAH LADIPO MANYIKA

“I remember how we laughed.”

When I heard that Toni Morrison had died, I walked to a church in Peckham, South London, and sat on an empty bench outside. I wanted quiet, but I also yearned for the church bells to ring out in celebration of a mighty writer whose voice rang clearly in my head.

I remember that Easter Saturday, in 2017, when I spent an afternoon in Toni’s home — and she said to call her Toni. She told us about the novel she was working on. She planned to call it “Justice.” I remember how she sat straight-backed and magnificent in black trousers, caftan and woolen cap, waiting for the interview to begin.

She said in “Justice,” there was a slave owner named Goodmaster who made his slaves call themselves Goodmaster. The slaves kept the detested surname to make it easier to find each other in later generations. Three of the descendants would be her characters. She’d named them Courage, Freedom and Justice. I remember thinking we have not yet emerged from this struggle and wondering whether she completed “Justice” and whether justice can ever be complete.

When, in the course of our interview, I mentioned James Baldwin, she sighed lovingly and called him “Jimmy.” I remember what she wrote of him in the wake of his death — of his gifts to her of tenderness, courage and language. She, too, gave us these gifts, especially the courage to write our stories without a care for anyone’s gaze.

I remember her Nobel Lecture and the lines I had committed to memory: “Language can never ‘pin down’ slavery, genocide, war. Nor should it yearn for the arrogance to be able to do so. Its force, its felicity, is in its reach toward the ineffable.” In that lecture, she told the parable of an old woman, and I remember the intensity of the questions the woman is asked. “Tell us what it is to be a woman so that we may know what it is to be a man. What moves at the margin. What it is to have no home in this place. To be set adrift from the one you knew. What it is to live at the edge of towns that cannot bear your company.” Toni wrote that in 1993 — it could have been written in 2019.

I visited her guest bathroom that Easter Saturday and found it filled with photographs of writers I had long admired — Wole Soyinka, Gabriel García Márquez, Baldwin — and a letter from the Nobel Committee announcing its decision to award Morrison its highest honor. There was also a “Publication Denial Notification” outlining why Morrison’s novel “Paradise” was banned from Texas correctional facilities for fear of “inmate disruption such as strikes or riots.”

I remember just how much she made us laugh that day. I asked her what President Barack Obama had whispered to her after presenting her with the Presidential Medal of Freedom and being surprised when she said she didn’t remember. I realized later that she, the master storyteller, was simply explaining that when one is in awe of someone, what stays in the memory is not what is said but how it is said. It was her son who later asked Obama what he had whispered into his mother’s ear. “I love you,” Obama answered.

I remember at the end, telling her that my son wanted to know her secret to writing so well. “Tell him I’m a genius,” she smiled. I remember how we laughed.

Sarah Ladipo Manyika is a British-Nigerian novelist and author of “Like a Mule Bringing Ice Cream to The Sun.”

TAYARI JONES

“She wasn’t one to search for common ground; she was looking for the true path forward.”

People often ask me what Toni Morrison has meant to me as a writer. No novelist has influenced me more. I tip my hat to her in some way in each of my novels. In my latest, my hero is from the town of Eloe, the fictional hometown of Son, the troubled hero of “Tar Baby.” I make these gestures as an homage to the greatest writer of our time but also as a gesture of gratitude to the woman whose wisdom helped me understand my real life, the one I live in private, off the page.

Morrison wrote novels that gave us cautionary tales on life and love, but she also modeled the way forward. These stories nudge us away from respectability in favor of true respect for ourselves, and each other. She wasn’t one to search for common ground; she was looking for the true path. Her moral compass was impeccable and her intellect peerless. Her ear for the poetry, beauty and brilliance of African American language lifted us, reminding us that we are marvelous — anytime we open our mouths to speak.

Tayari Jones is a professor of creative writing at Emory University and the author of four novels, including “Leaving Atlanta” and “An American Marriage.”

JACQUELINE WOODSON

“Morrison had provided, through her characters, some of my earliest mirrors.”

I’m in Morocco and the emails, texts and WhatApps come at me: Toni Morrison has moved on to the next place. Weeks before, I’d spoken to some friends who’d told me that she was close to this transition, but a part of me thought, Aren’t we all? Isn’t each one of us living in this moment with all its madness, beauty and despair, knowing that at the end of this is death? Death and whatever we believe of what comes after.

And still …

What I know now — and have known for some time — is how fortunate I am to be walking through the world at this particular moment in time.

When I first read “The Bluest Eye,” I was a fifth- or sixth-grader. It was one of very few books on the shelves of our Brooklyn apartment. We could not afford shelves lined with books and depended on the neighborhood library for our weekly dose of new narratives. But the cover of my mother’s book had caught my eye — a photograph of a black woman dressed as a child and holding a white doll.

I despised this cover. And I was fascinated by it. A slow reader, I read through “The Bluest Eye” with my finger moving beneath the words. I remember being captivated by the story — so many people walking through it were like people walking through my own life. When I picked up the book again in high school, I would remember it as having a happy ending. I remembered Pecola Breedlove’s wish for blue eyes had come true and everyone lived happily ever after.

And for many months after reading “The Bluest Eye” for the second, third, fourth time, I was certain that Morrison had written two versions of the novel — one for children and one for adults. The adult version was stunningly heartbreaking. The children’s version — what was that? Something I could grasp parts of. Hold on to.

“The Bluest Eye” was an awakening for me. Already, I wanted to write. Already, I wanted to show and see representations of the people I loved on the page. Decades later, as an adult when I heard Rudine Sims Bishop talk about the importance of books being mirrors and windows for the reader, I’d realize that Morrison had provided, through her characters, some of my earliest mirrors. And windows. In the lives of the people she brought to the page, I began to see parts of myself in the world — reflected, legitimized, loved.

And so here I am now. Here we all are. Toni Morrison as light, as way, as ancestor. And the many writers she has left in her wake, and the many writers coming after, and those after them, will hopefully always know this: that because of her, we are.

Jacqueline Woodson, the author of “Harbor Me” and “Brown Girl Dreaming,” lives in Brooklyn.

MICHELE L. NORRIS

“I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to swim in her laughter and lean into her deliberate silence.”

My heart went to her words, but my mind went straight to her voice.

Perhaps because I worked so long in radio, it was her voice that washed over me when the news flash rolled in announcing that Toni Morrison had joined the ancestors. Her voice was as measured and magisterial as the words she put on the page. It had the quality of music, in the way that an artist can take a single note from a single instrument and make it hang in the air like tendrils of cigar smoke, move it back and forth like an old porch swing or send it drifting toward the moon like an owl in flight.

I imagine that many people reached for her books in their moment of grief. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to swim in her laughter and lean into her deliberate silence — because she used silence as a kind of punctuation, pausing when she spoke to let her words sink in, long pauses to give you a moment to sop up her wisdom or perhaps in her own mind to say, “Mmm, that sounded good.”

Morrison’s speaking voice was low and feathery and playful, which is a bit of a conundrum because her writing voice cut like a knife — straight to the bone — examining the physical, spiritual and soul-crushing wounds of race and racial hatred.

I’ve interviewed Morrison several times and, though the books we discussed were always drenched in pain and heartbreak, the interviews felt like a visit to a juke joint. At a 2015 event, I asked her to begin our chat with a reading from a section of what was then her latest release, “God Help the Child.” She chose a passage that described her character Bride — a statuesque, dark-skinned woman dismissed as ugly by her parents and teachers and just about everyone else — as she discovers that she possesses a kind of magnetic power over men. A young Morrison had studied theater and you could hear the training as she danced through her prose. I looked out over the audience and several hundred people had their eyes closed in a trance. You could hear in Morrison’s voice how much she valued her own words. You could hear how much she valued black life.

I loved her voice, but I am most grateful for how she used it. She changed the publishing industry in the United States. That is not hyperbole. She was known as the “black editor” at Random House, and she wore the title like a badge of honor, using her perch to knock down doors previously closed to black writers. She edited Angela Davis, Chinua Achebe, Gayl Jones and Toni Cade Bambara.

She used that voice to encourage young writers and she challenged booksellers to stop placing even best-selling black authors in the black book section that was always — always — in some hard-to-find back corner of the store. And when she herself became a best-selling author, she used her voice to reject the notion that being a black writer was a subgenre of high literature. “Reject” is almost too soft a word. She was asked time and time again if she chafed at the term “black writer” or whether she would ever consider centering white characters in her work — and with a smile on her face, she flicked that off her shoulder, flung it to the floor and stomped on it with an elegant grace. “The inquiry comes from a position of being in the center and being used to being in the center and saying is it ever possible that you will enter the mainstream,” she once said.

She shot past the mainstream and elevated the highest levels of literature with her own language on her own terms. “I stood at the edge and claimed it as central,” she said. “Claimed it as central. And let the rest of the world move over to where I was.”

Michele L. Norris is a former host of NPR’s “All Things Considered” and the founding director of the Race Card Project.

LEAH WRIGHT RIGUEUR

“Once you’ve read her work, you cannot unread it or leave it behind.”

When I was 10 years old, I borrowed my mother’s copy of “The Bluest Eye.” I was a gluttonous reader, consuming every book I could get my hands on. But that’s not why I chose Toni Morrison’s book.

I had seen my mother, my aunts and their friends reading Morrison’s work. I listened silently, watching as they praised, argued and even gossiped over the layers and textures of Morrison’s words and stories. I wanted to be a part of that — not simply as a witness, but as part of their congregation, offering up my own testimony.

Reading Morrison’s words for the first time made my chest and my throat ache. It took me months to finish as I struggled to process the story. It was so different from anything I’d read. It was rawer, more precise and more cutting, but it was also so much freer. I couldn’t articulate it then (and even now, I struggle to do so), but I certainly could feel Morrison’s words. Her prose made me feel seen, visible. I could feel Morrison writing to me, about me, as she documented the rhythms of black girlhood and the fullness of black community in America, in all its joy and trauma. She loved black people so thickly that it pulsated through her prose.

Once you’ve read her work, you cannot unread it or leave it behind. The ideas and lessons linger — sometimes as a caress, other times as a slap. I have birthed two children in my life, and each time, Morrison’s words from “Beloved” emerged instinctively to haunt and comfort me: “Love is or it ain’t. Thin love ain’t no love at all.”

When I was a graduate student at Princeton University in the early 2000s, one of my most potent memories is of sitting in on Cornel West and Eddie Glaude’s class on the black intellectual tradition; on this day, our guests were Morrison, the actress Phylicia Rashad and Jay-Z (Shawn Carter). Turning to Carter, West asked the rapper to comment on his musical catalogue, his lyrics and race in America. Jay-Z vigorously shook his head, laughed and responded: “Why should I talk when Toni Morrison is here? She’s the one who taught me. I need to learn from her.” The room broke out in laughter born from a shared understanding that Morrison was our translator, our teacher, our literary great, our canon.

Long before I became a professional historian, Morrison put me through a masterclass in doing history imaginatively, reassuring me that the careful excavation of stories that unapologetically center black life and community was, and still is, a revolutionary act, especially for a black woman in America. “I write what I have recently begun to call village literature,” she once noted. “Fiction that is really for the village, for the tribe. … I think long and carefully about what my novels ought to do. They should clarify the roles that have become obscured; they ought to identify those things in the past that are useful and those things that are not; and they ought to give nourishment.” Morrison told us to explore that which is foreign, and to wrestle with both the beautiful and the horrifying parts of blackness, and to do it with clarity, love and empathy. She constantly reminded us that writing us “whole,” in all our intricacies and silences, was a necessary part of freedom. She leaves a legacy of limitless possibility, for our community, our liberation and for us: “The vitality of language lies in its ability to limn the actual, imagined and possible lives of its speakers, readers, writers.”

Leah Wright Rigueur teaches 20th-century American history and politics at Harvard University.

Diana Ejaita is an illustrator and textile designer based in Berlin.