#as an aside i found out my mom might be chinese | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

168 notes · View notes

whatifxwereyou · 3 years ago

Text

Firestorm Part 9: Isolation

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021 Liu Kang x Reader

A/N: skalfjwealjf I live for the angst

Start From the Beginning << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

Your head was pounding. The stone you leaned against seemed to bounce with the throbbing of your head. A soft wet cloth was dabbed against it. Droplets trickled down your forehead and over your cheek only to be wiped away by a familiar hand.

Liu Kang.

You opened your eyes and found yourself curled against the wall in Raiden’s chamber. That was right. He’d had to read you after all that had happened in the fight pit. Each time you woke up from these experiences you had to face the terror of finding your friends injured and exhausted. But this time they didn’t seem to be any different than when you’d last seen them. Liu Kang’s eyes were filled with concern but he said nothing as he dabbed your burning skin. He offered you the faintest flicker of a smile to acknowledge that you were awake.

Behind him sat Kung Lao with his knees folded. He looked nervous. He had several scrapes that had been tended to while you’d been unconscious. Liu Kang looked like he hadn’t bothered seeing anyone for his.

“She’s awake.” Kung Lao’s eyes darted to the side as Raiden approached from somewhere behind him.

“Good.”

The guilt was overwhelming. Again. Guilt for hurting them. Guilt for being so useless in those moments. You’d been strong once but now you felt as though that were something you were incapable of. It was frustrating. You’d felt strong for just a few seconds before it had all gone horribly wrong.

“We must unravel this curse.” Raiden crouched next to where you were leaning. “I fear that there is not much time left for us to do so.” You had nothing to say. He was right. You knew that. “I think that we must uncover who you truly are, Y/N.”

“We know who she is.” Kung Lao was defensive. He’d always been defensive when it came to that kind of thing. Even as kids, he’d stood up for you when anyone questioned you.

“Kung Lao, that is not what I meant. I mean that there is more to her than what we know. I have a feeling that this thing is a part of you that’s hidden away, Y/N. Your gift of sight is unrelated to your arcana. I think that the answer might lie in your heritage. Something isn’t connecting. We have only parts of the full picture. There is a mystery within your mystery. I wish for you to return to the place where you were born to try and uncover it.”

“Most people went to Guilin for more complicated medical procedures. That’s probably a good place to start.” Kung Lao was again at your defense.

“I wasn’t born there,” You finally spoke but your voice sounded tired. Liu Kang kept dabbing the cloth over your forehead. The cold was soothing but it also gave you the shivers. You were freezing. It was probably a damn fever again. You missed having normal crappy days. Days where you’d been fine other than an annoying sinus headache or a stubbed toe. Everyday seemed to be something new and horrible now. At least it didn’t seem like you’d hurt anyone after you’d given yourself over to Raiden so he could understand what you’d seen. “I was born in South Korea. My parents moved to China shortly after I was born.”

“Really?” Kung Lao was surprised, maybe even a little annoyed that he hadn’t known that about you. He had been the Y/N-expert thus far. It was kind of charming how defensive he was over you.

“Yeah. Mom’s Korean and Dad’s Chinese. I’m trying to remember where it was.” You furrowed your brow and massaged your temple. Liu smoothed your hair back and you gave him a look but he averted his eyes with a slight smile. “Andong, I think. I meant to visit as I got older but never got around to it. I used to have the address to their old apartment but… that’s been lost. If I looked at a map, then I could probably at least find some familiar names.”

“When you have recovered then you will go to Andong.” Raiden instructed.

“To what end?” You frowned. What did he expect you to find there? It wasn’t like there would be answers hiding in any obvious places. For all you knew the apartment your parents had shared before they’d moved to China had been demolished and replaced with something else. And it wasn’t like you could ask anyone. Your remaining family thought you were dead.

“Start with birth records. There are memories, Y/N. Memories that I cannot see.

He could see your memories? Oh no. You didn’t like that.

“Memories?”

“Important parts of your history are locked away. They are hidden much like parts of your visions are. Someone doesn’t want you to know what is hidden there. Someone doesn’t want us to know. You must uncover these truths.”

“I still don’t understand how I’m supposed to do that.” It felt impossible.

“You will find a way. I have faith.” Raiden’s encouraging smile backed with the determination behind his eyes was encouraging even if you were running out of hope that there was anything after this for you other than being locked away until you withered and ultimately died. “Find a connection to your birthplace. Find your story where it starts. At the beginning.” When he said it, it made perfect sense but you still had no idea what you were looking for. “Liu Kang and Kung Lao will accompany you. I have a feeling that whatever has been hidden from you will be quite dangerous to reveal.”

“Okay.” You had no room to argue with a god. Any idea was better than no idea and Raiden seemed confident. Going to where the artifacts had been hidden in your vision had yielded results. If Lord Raiden thought that you needed to visit Andong and look at your birth records then you would.

“I’ll still take you to the city before we go. I promised.” Kung Lao smiled brightly at you. He seemed to be a beacon of positivity in a room of heavy energy.

“I could probably get what I need in Andong.” You didn’t see the point of taking a separate trip. You were far less worried about that now anyway. What was the likelihood that you even could get pregnant? You were so sick. Your body barely had any energy to give to you nonetheless a baby. You were pretty sure that something akin to a parasite would not survive within what you were now considering an inhospitable environment.

“No, no. I promised we’d go. And it’ll be a nice break before we go to Korea.” Kung Lao smiled and this suddenly seemed important to him so you weren’t going to argue. You didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, you could use a few new things. “One of the monks offered to come with us just in case you needed medical assistance. Your friend. The mean one.”

“Chen?” You could not mentally comprehend the embarrassment of going on a trip with Chen and Kung Lao to the city so you could buy condoms and birth control because of Liu Kang. Later. That would be a horrible situation for later. Right now you were feeling too exhausted and defeated to deal with unpacking that. “Is that safe?”

“With Kung Lao there you should be fine.” Liu Kang spoke for the first time since you’d woken up. His voice sounded weary. He’d cleaned up but his scrapes on his face and arms weren’t tended to. The guilt again. It was awful.

“Raiden said he’d be on alert in case anything went wrong.”

“I just don’t know if it makes sense to do anything unnecessary right now.” You were afraid to go out into the world again.

“You can’t stop living because something might happen.” Liu bowed his head politely, clasping the prayer beads in his palm. He’d stopped dabbing your forehead. You knew he was right but it didn’t mean it was easy for you to consider putting anyone in harm’s way.

“Rest for a day or two. But no longer. There is work to be done.”

“I don’t think that whatever this is plans on allowing me to recover. It almost feels like… this happened because I had regained some ground earlier. It felt the need to take it away from me. I don’t know if that’s crazy or not.” You were sure that sounded silly. But judging by the look on everyone’s faces, they didn’t think it was crazy or silly at all.

“Rest, Y/N.” Raiden bowed his head.

“I’ll bring you to your new space so you can do that.” Liu Kang set aside the cloth, next to the bowl he’d been getting water from on the floor. He seemed to have much more to say on the matter but held his tongue. You guessed that whatever it was he wanted to say would be said in a private conversation later.

“I’ll start moving things.” Kung Lao jumped to his feet and dusted off his hands. Raiden offered you his hand and you took it. You were wobbly and exhausted, hands tingling. What had happened while you’d been out of it to make you feel this drained?

“Don’t be defeated. We will figure this out. I have a feeling that we’re close. Like you said, you were getting stronger when this happened. Whoever is behind this wants you to feel defeated. They want you to feel like you have no control. We will not allow that to happen.” Raiden’s determination on your behalf was remarkable. It must have been much easier to make lofty promises while being a god. You were a little touched that they were so willing to help you but the truth was that you were weak. You felt weak. The little bit of strength that you’d regained had been taken from you. You felt like you could have gone to sleep and never woken up. If it hadn’t been for Liu Kang and Kung Lao then you probably would have.

You thought that whoever was behind this was doing an exceptional job. Not to compliment them or anything but you were defeated. You were exhausted. At the end of your rope, even. Liu Kang offered you his arm and you took it. Raiden watched you go. Kung Lao chattered along the way but neither you nor Liu had much to say in return. It didn’t bother Kung Lao. He was happy to fill the silence.

“What happened when I was out this time?” You asked when Kung Lao parted ways with you. He was headed to your old room to gather some of your things while Liu Kang brought you to your new room. A much more isolated place. It was a far longer walk so far. Liu Kang sighed heavily as if he did not wish to discuss this. You were sure it was something ridiculous like talking in crazy demon voices and ink exploding out of you. “Come on, tell me.” You wanted to understand the exhaustion you were feeling.

“Nothing happened.” Liu didn’t sound very convincing.

“Bull.” You tried to joke but Liu Kang stopped walking in the hallway. He grabbed your hand to stop you from walking too and then stepped closer to you. He took your other hand and held both between you.

“Really. Nothing happened. You just… laid there.” He seemed more upset by this than he had been when you’d been speaking in odd voices and making ink thrones and dragons. “Raiden thinks that you were too drained to do more. At least that’s what he said.”

“And you don’t believe him?”

“I think that Raiden finds it easy to avoid saying things that might make us act rashly.” Liu Kang didn’t sound like he approved of the idea but he didn’t sound angry about it either. “Or sometimes he thinks it is better not to mention them.”

“And what is it you think he’s not saying” You didn’t like his tone. You didn’t like the implications. Liu Kang seemed to be the one avoiding saying what he thought was happening. He looked down at your hands and suddenly you understood without him having to say it at all. That was why Raiden had said that he didn’t think there was much time left.

Oh.

“We’re going to figure this out.”

“I’m not dying, Liu Kang.” You sounded awfully confident for a woman who had just considered going to sleep and never getting back up. Liu averted his eyes but you could see the slightest smile on his lips.

“I know.” He decided after a long moment of silence. “I won’t let you.”

You knew that neither one of you truly had control over life or death but you would fight until the end no matter what that end was. It was cruel to have someone like Liu Kang come into your life only for this to happen. It was cruel to be reunited with your childhood best friend only to slowly decay and potentially lose him again. You didn’t want to hurt them more than you already had. You had never wanted to hurt anyone. Even in your worst moments, when you’d been angry at the world, angry at the people of your hometown for treating you so terribly, you had never wished pain or unhappiness upon any of them.

But hurt was unavoidable. You had already hurt them.

“At least you didn’t have to fight my arcana while I was out of it this time.” You gestured down the hall and Liu Kang led them onward but didn’t let go of one of your hands. He just casually held it as you walked like that was no big deal.

“It is a pleasure to fight your arcana, Y/N. Even if you are exhausting in those moments.”

“You’re very sweet but I know that it’s draining for you. Maybe I was just too exhausted from everything that happened in the fight pit. Did Raiden tell you anything about the man I saw? How could I create someone and mimic their power like that without having ever seen them? I can barely create you two and control you properly and I know you very well.”

“He suspects that whoever has cursed you did it. Not you. That was all he told us.”

“I thought that thing was going to kill me. What a way to go. Killed by my own arcana. Are there any records of that? Would I be a first?”

“Not the first. There have been a few unfortunate incidents… one involving a laser and well, you wouldn’t be the first.” Liu Kang managed to joke with you and that was a relief. He led you down a flight of steps and the hall at the bottom was dark. Liu bathed his palm in fire and led you down the hallway and around the corner. The room he led you into was smaller than the one you’d had before but it was more secure. No windows and the doors were heavy. There was an old table with a singular candle atop it. Liu lit the candle before extinguishing the flame in his palm. “Welcome to your new home. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I can’t think of another option, Liu.”

“But what if you get trapped… Kung Lao told me about that morning and…”

“No one else will get hurt because of me.” You spoke firmly. There was no arguing with you on this. “When I’m not this volatile then I will happily move back to the other room. But until then, Liu, this is the only solution that I can come up with.”

“I don’t like this, Y/N.”

“I know you don’t. I don’t either. But it’s the right thing to do.”

He sighed heavily. The door opened behind you and Kung Lao came in holding your entire desk. Then he slammed it down inside the room. “It’s too dark in that hallway. We have to put in some lights. I nearly died getting down here.”

“There’s got to be an easier way to move my things than you blindly carrying them through dimly lit hallways like a crazy person.”

“Name one.”

“I’ll go get a dolly.” Liu Kang patted you on the shoulder and then shook his head in dismay at Kung Lao before they continued about the task of moving your things to your new space. You sat on the edge of the desk and looked at the small, dark room. This was temporary. You would leave this space successful. You had to.

18 notes · View notes

spicykoreantatertots · 5 years ago

Text

With love, from J

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: G

Genres: College AU, Roommates to Lovers, Fluffy Fluffy Fluff

Summary: A beautiful bouquet of peonies are left on your doorstep, the only problem is, you don’t know who they’re from.

Warnings: none! this is just sweet fluff.

A/N: It’s finally here! This piece is a gift for Ashley aka: @taehyungforreal! I was honestly stunned when I found out that you were my Secret Admiree! I’ve been such a huge fan of your work for a while now and it’s such an honor to write for you. This is currently a very G rated, but I am toying with the idea of doing a smutty one shot down the line. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who helped me with this fic and encouraged me along the way: @ho-baebae @lovely-literati.

~~~~~~~

Trudging up the stairs to your third floor apartment, you can't help but wonder if the $50 a month discount is worth all the extra effort. Especially when your backpack is full of Thicc text books. But at least tonight you don't have to leave again. It's Roomie Night.

Roomie Night is a tradition started way back when you and Jungkook first started living together. The two of you had been in the same group of friends since Freshman year, but weren't very close. But when it was time to leave the dorm, and both of you needed a place, you ended up together. In an effort to get to know him better, you proposed Roomie Night. Once a week the two of you set aside time to eat dinner and hang out with each other.

The idea worked, because now Jungkook is one of your closest, if not best friend. Tonight, Jungkook is bringing home takeout from the Chinese place you love and you've rented some action thriller that he's been dying to see. Should be a really fun night if you can make it up these stairs.

When you do reach the landing, you spot something outside your front door. Peonies? A whole bouquet of them in a beautiful purple vase. They must be from your mom, it is almost Valentine's day after all.

You unlock the door and pick up the vase to bring inside. Peonies have been your favorite flower since you were a child. You had spent many afternoons with your Grandmother as she tended to her flower garden. She often told you what each flower represented and Peonies represent good fortune and a happy marriage. Two things your Grandmother had, and two things you desperately wanted.

After losing the heavy backpack, you pull the card out of the Peonies. It simply says, "With love, from J.”

"From J?" you muse out loud to yourself. Could it be... Could they be from Jungkook? You had never seriously entertained the idea of dating your roommate. Not because he isn't gorgeous. He is. Not because he isn't sweet and caring. He is. Not because he doesn't have a great sense of humor. He does. Wait a second, so why haven't you considered him an option??

But wait, these just say, "from J." Maybe it isn't Jungkook. You don't call him J, nobody does. So maybe it's from someone else? You snap a picture and send it to another friend of yours, Seokjin.

You: any idea who these could be from??

Seokjin: are they from Jungkook?? how many times do i have to tell you to get on the Jungkook train Y/N???

Seokjin: theoretically they could be from Jimin, but i'm pretty sure he's got a thing for Taehyung...

Seokjin: wait what's that guy you were flirting with at work??

You: Jackson!! Omg... maybe it was him... he did ask if i had a valentine this year, but i thought he was just making small talk

Seokjin: only one way to find out

You: wait until someone comes forward so i don't have to awkwardly put myself out there :|

Seokjin: right...

~~~~~~~

Jungkook drags himself up the stairs, legs weak from his intense workout. His long dark hair is damp with sweat. Chinese food in hand, he walks through the door to see you texting away at the kitchen counter.

"Hey how's it going?" The soft smile blush on your face confuses him slightly, he wonders who you're texting.

"Oh it's going." Jungkook walks toward you, setting your dinner down on the counter. "Are you going to shower before we eat, I can smell you over the take out." You laugh and he knows you're kidding. He loves the sound of your laugh...

"I'll shower, you can go ahead and eat, I won't be long." Jungkook goes to the bathroom to start the shower before he walks off toward his bedroom down the hall. He's still thinking about who you're texting, who is making you smile like that. It should be him.

As he picks out some clean clothes he can't help but think about how badly he wants to be with you, but he can't bring himself to cross the boundary from friends and roommates to something more.

In the bathroom, the steam is rising from the shower and Jungkook is so ready to get into the hot shower. He opens the cabinet for a towel, but doesn't find any.

"Y/N! Where are all the towels?" Jungkook calls from the bathroom.

"In a basket in my room, I was gonna put them up later!" You call back to him, mouth full of noodles.

Jungkook slips out of the bathroom and moves quickly to your bedroom to grab a towel. He finds the full basket near your desk where he also notices a large bouquet of pink flowers. His heart stops for a second when he reads the card placed next to them.

From J? Who got you those flowers? Valentine's Day is around the corner and Jungkook realizes he might be too late. He may have already missed his chance to be with you.

~~~~~~~

Empty take out cartons litter the coffee table, the credits from the movie are rolling, but you can't move. You're afraid to move even an inch because Jungkook's head is in your lap. He fell asleep before the first explosion even happened. At first he was just resting his head on your shoulder, but in his sleepy state he eventually made it down to your lap.

You gently brush his hair out of his face and you can admire his beauty. God is he beautiful. The way his nose curves, the sharp edge of his jaw line, each of his cute little moles - all handcrafted by God himself.

Your fingers are still absentmindedly stroking through his locks. The motion of it slowly wakes him.

"Hello sleepy head." You smiled down at him. He quickly sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

"So how did it end?" He looks back at you. God how did things change so quickly? Because all you want to do right now is kiss him on his perfect mouth. "The movie? Did they vanquish the evil doers?"

"Oh! Yeah yeah, they all exploded and the hero got back in time for his wedding."

"So all was well." He hums to himself. He'll probably watch the movie again later. He can never stay awake when he eats that much food. "So listen... next week Roomie Night is on Valentine's Day..."

Your stomach twists. Is this it, is he about to ask you out? He looks around the room before looking back at you. All you can do is hope that the blush on your face isn't too obvious in the dim lighting.

"Are you planning to..." He starts, shakes his head, tries again. "Are you gonna have a Valentine this year?" Why would he ask that now if he already bought you flowers, they must not be from him.

~~~~~~~

He reads your face carefully for a reaction. He's put it all on the line, he's got to know who the flowers are from. He waits for you to answer, but the longer you wait the more he realizes you must be trying to find a way to break the news to him.

You must be seeing someone.

"I'm not... expecting anything. If that's what you mean." What do you mean by that? Where did the flowers come from? God he should just ask you. But he can't bring himself to do it.

"Okay, so Roomie Night is on just like always?" He grins, starting to clean up the mess from dinner.

"Just like always." You return his smile, but it doesn't quite meet your eyes. Jungkook is still so unsure about what's going on inside that beautiful mind of yours.

~~~~~~~

Both you and Jungkook have full time course loads and part time jobs, so you don't see each other everyday. You don't really get to see him again until four days after Roomie Night. The two of you are going to be meeting up with your friends for dinner and game night at Namjoon's apartment.

You're waiting, sitting on the couch while Jungkook is getting ready. You're scrolling through your twitter feed when you hear the door open.

Jungkook walks out, shirtless. H-has he always had abs like that? He's towel drying his hair as he walks down the hall to his bedroom. The lean muscles on his back lead down to his slim waist. You hope he didn't notice you staring.

~~~~~~~

Once he's fully dressed and his hair is mostly dry, Jungkook joins you in the living room. He's wearing black jeans and his favorite Nirvana shirt covered by his denim jacket.

"It's pretty nice out for February, wanna just walk?" Jungkook shows you the temperature from his weather app, clear skies and it's almost 60 degrees.

"Sounds good. Got the keys." You respond, getting up from the couch. He watches you grab your coat and open the door, turning the lock from the inside.

"Let's go!"

The walk to Namjoon's apartment flies by. It's about five blocks away, but the time he spends with you always seems to move too quickly. He could honestly listen to you complain about customers from work all day long. And you listen intently as he talks about the latest album he's listening to. The way you giggle when he tells a dumb joke makes his heart soar.

Your cheeks are rosy from the cool wintery breeze that blows the hair out of your face. Jungkook is pretty sure God is playing a cruel joke on him, or maybe it's just a sign. A sign that you are meant to be his.

~~~~~~~

When you arrive at Namjoon's place, Seokjin is in the kitchen finishing up dinner with the help of Jimin. Taehyung is setting the table and Namjoon is in the living area looking through his extensive collection of board games.

Before too long, the six of you are around the dinner table, Jungkook by your side as always. His energy does feel a little bit different tonight though. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but it does feel like he's looking over at you a lot. And he's laughing at everything you say. And maybe he's sitting a little closer to you than he has to.

After dinner, you help Seokjin wash the dishes while the other boys set up Clue. A classic.

"Okay listen he's totally into you. The flowers have to be from him." Seokjin whispers so that no one can hear him over the sound of the faucet.

"Jin! You can't just say things like that!" You whisper back at him.

"I'm not just saying it! God Y/N! How did you not see the way he was looking at you during dinner?" You look over your shoulder and see Jungkook play fighting with Taehyung. He's smiling, he's happy, and suddenly he's looking back at you.

~~~~~~~

Were you just looking at him? Jungkook lets Taehyung out of his grasp and stares back at you until you turn back to the sink. Taehyung punches Jungkook's arm, regaining his attention.

"What was that all about?" Taehyung glances over at you.

"Nothing." Jungkook tries to shut down his friend's snooping. "I don't know what you're talking about.

"Okay so we're just gonna pretend like you weren't in your own little Y/N-loving world during dinner then?"

"He's right." Jimin chimes in from his seat at the table and that's when Jungkook notices Namjoon is listening too. "You two would be great together, you should just go for it." Jimin continues. Jungkook looks to Namjoon for his thoughts.

"Based on both of your body language, I think there might be something there." Namjoon states matter-of-factly. Jungkook gives one last longing look in your direction before he put Taehyung back in a chokehold.

~~~~~~~

"Alright the game is Clue and to make it a little more interesting we are going to be playing in teams. Me and Jimin, Taehyung and Jin, and Jungkook and Y/N." You look over at Namjoon, but he is busying himself with shuffling the cards.

Throughout the rest of the night, Jin kicks you under the table anytime Jungkook does something that could be even slightly flirtatious. Every laugh, every smile, every secretive whisper in your ear that sends a chill down your spine.

When the two of you decide it's time to Make the Accusation, Jungkook stands dramatically. He looks around the room before proclaiming that it was, in fact, Professor Plum with the Dagger in the Library.

After checking the envelope and announcing your team's victory, you jump up and wrap your arms around Jungkook. He doesn't hesitate to return the hug and judging by the smug look on Seokjin's face, the hug lasted a little too long.

"Good game everyone!" You shout, suddenly embarrassed. "I guess it's getting kind of late, we should get going since we walked." You're now speaking to just Jungkook and he nods in response.

~~~~~~~

The walk back to your shared apartment is a little bit more awkward than Jungkook would have hoped. The temperature has dropped significantly and he can hear your teeth chattering. But your hands are hanging by your side rather than in your pockets. Maybe you want him to grab your hand.

"Do you have work tomorrow night?" He asks you, thinking maybe he'll finally have the courage to ask you out.

"Nope I'm free!" You turn and look up at him slightly, your pace slowing down. Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"Do you maybe wanna..." He starts, but he second guesses himself. Why would a girl like you wanna go out with him when you've clearly already got an admirer. He lets out a frustrated sigh. "Maybe we could study together then?"

"Yeah sure sounds great."

~~~~~~~

You thought that was it, you thought he was going to ask you out, especially after the fun night the two of you had with your friends. The chill of the night is starting to really set in as the two of you approach your apartment. Trying your best to not sound out of breath, you wait for Jungkook to unlock the door.

"What are you waiting for?" Jungkook motions toward the door.

"Well you're the one with the keys." You retort, ready to be inside.

"No! When we left you said you had the keys." You look up at him, confused.

"No... I was asking if you got the keys! So neither of us have keys?" You groan, slapping the palm of your hand against your face. "It's COLD!"

~~~~~~~

Jungkook calls the emergency maintenance line for the apartment complex to have them bring a spare key.

"It'll be about fifteen minutes." He puts his phone back in his pocket. He can see you shivering in the dim lighting of the walkway. After some silence he adds, "I'm sorry."

"It's not totally your fault... I guess." You exhale with a chuckle, music to his ears. You close the distance between the two of you and Jungkook almost gasps when you nuzzle your nose in his jacket.

"It's so cold." Your voice is muffled and he almost can't make out what you said. He wraps his arms around you to try and help warm you up. And this feels so right. You belong in his arms, he's sure of it.

The two of you stand like this for a few minutes, really he wasn't counting, but he does feel you pull away after a while. Before he can be too disappointed, he hears people climbing up the stairs. Your neighbors, Yoongi and Hoseok are coming home from what looks like a shopping trip.

~~~~~~~

"Hey guys." You stuttered behind your chattering teeth. You're feeling the cold all over again after you peeled yourself off of Jungkook.

"What's up?" Yoongi asks, probably wondering what the two of you are doing standing outside in the cold. "Locked out?"

Both you and Jungkook nod in response. Hoseok offers to let the two of you in while you wait for the maintenance man, but you turn him down, he should be here any minute now. Before going into the apartment, Hoseok turns back.

"Have either of you seen a bouquet of Peonies anywhere?" Your stomach turns upside down. "I ordered some for Yoongi, they're his favorite. They were supposedly delivered, but they weren't here when we got home."

"Oh yeah, they were delivered to our door by mistake." You've never been so mortified, especially considering Jungkook is here watching this unfold. "They're my favorite flowers too, so I thought they must be from..." You pause, not wanting to keep that train of thought going.

"See Yoongi! I told you I ordered you flowers!" Hoseok calls into the apartment. Yoongi pokes his head back out.

"I'll bring them over when we get in. Oh but, the card said that they were "from J?" Hoseok blushes in response to your question.

"That's one of my nicknames for him..." Yoongi winks at you before they both retreat to the warmth of their apartment.

~~~~~~~

"So who did you think the flowers were from?" Jungkook teased. He was beyond relieved to know that the flowers weren't actually for you. Relieved that maybe he still had a chance with you. You roll your eyes at him, but Jungkook notices some sadness in them.

Before he gets the chance to say anything else, the maintenance worker comes to let the two of you in. Jungkook watches as you head straight to your room. He lingers in the kitchen, waiting for you to come out with the peonies.

“So are peonies really your favorite?” Jungkook asks.

“Not another word Jeon.” You announce as you leave the apartment with the bouquet. The flowers are just beginning to wilt, hopefully Yoongi will still like them. In the silence of the apartment, Jungkook decides it’s time you get some peonies that are actually meant for you.

~~~~~~~

When you come home from class the next day, your ascent to your apartment brings back all the embarrassment from the night before. At least this time you have your keys.

You are surprised to see that Jungkook beat you home, he’s rummaging around in the pantry for something to eat. Usually he stays late to work out at the rec center after class. Jungkook stops when he hears you enter.

“Hi.” He says shortly, wearing a big contagious grin.

“Hi?” You repeat back to him, hanging up your coat and bag near the door.

“Wait here.” Jungkook saunters off down the hall.

“Okay?” You reply, slightly confused. What is he up to?

From his bedroom, Jungkook emerges with a large bouquet of pale pink peonies. You cover your face with your hands and laugh to yourself. There is no way he went out and bought peonies for you.

“These are for you.” You uncover your eyes and look up at Jungkook’s radiant smile one more time before looking at the flowers. The petals look so soft and you reach out to touch them. Then you notice a card sticking out. The card says, “With love, from J(ungkook).”

“They’re beautiful.” You try to speak through your laughter. Feeling emboldened by his gesture, you tilt your head up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Listen... I was thinking. Maybe we should cancel Roomie Night.” Jungkook is blushing, his hand resting back behind his head. “We could call it Date Night instead?”

“Date night?” You smile. “I like the sound of that.”

~~~~~~~

Happy Bouquet Day sweetie! Sorry I posted a bit late in the day, but I hope you enjoyed it! @taehyungforreal

#magicshopnet #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #msnbqd2020 #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook fan fic #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts fan fic #jungkook fan fiction #bts fan fiction #reader x jungkook #peonies

476 notes · View notes

rosecorcoranwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Censorship and Banning Books

As I mentioned in my last Rant Rave Review, as of last Monday, six books by Dr. Seuss are now officially out-of-print, and they are out of print due to supposedly racist, offensive, and/or stereotypical images. The company that owns the rights to these books is no longer publishing them and some websites are no longer selling them. People who do own the books, or who swooped into stores and bought them the day of the announcement, are now selling them for hundreds or thousands of dollars. So, what are we to make of all this?

Is Dr. Seuss Racist?

There are actually three questions here: is the man racist, are his books racist, and are those images racist? The answer to the first is, he kinda was, and then he got over it. During the war, he was openly against the Japanese, and in favor of the internment camps, then went to Japan during the occupation and realized, hey, maybe these are just people. Apparently, he wrote Horton Hears a Who in response to the US occupation and dedicated it to a Japanese friend. People can change, if you let them.

Okay, well, what about his books? This is an obvious "no". Race basically doesn't come up in Dr. Seuss stories, except "The Sneetches", which is actively against racism. Which, in some people's fevered imaginations, makes it racist. Yes, in some Olympic-level mental gymnastics, saying that whatever race you are isn't important, ie being against "racial essentialism" means that you are a racist. Such people think that the story doesn't address "structures of power" and "systemic oppression". This is true. It's instead a story about a sleazy businessman who goes in and preys on existing racial biases in order to make a buck, constantly telling people to think of their identities in terms of their outward appearance. You'd think the racial essentialists would appreciate the representation.

But I digress.

What about the images themselves? Are they racist? Not having seen all of them, I can't say for sure, but some are definitely cringy. Take the yellow skinned "Chinaman who eats with sticks" in And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street. Though one could argue that the entire book uses only five colors: yellow, red, blue, and touches of purple and green, this man is the only human whose skin is colored at all. Later editions of this book have actually changed the image and text:

Honestly, I think this is fine. The meter still scans, and the image isn't straight-up removed. I mean, we could maybe discuss whether it's okay to alter an author's work, but he was alive when at least one of these these changes was made, so I think he allowed it.

Next we have some from If I Ran the Zoo, like this one, of some Asian dudes who "all wear their eyes at a slant":

I think, in this case, the text is the problem, but not the picture. Though some describe this image as "exotified", I think it's more just exaggerated, as are most of Dr. Seuss's characters. He doesn't do things half way. Aside from that, the picture is kind of cute and silly; nothing in it is derogatory or mean to the helpers. The text on the other hand... oof. Yeah, I would say this is a true example of something "offensive". I could see changing that (as long as the meter still scans!).

And then there are the fellows holding the tufted mazurka:

That's pretty bad. So bad that as a child, I don't think I actually registered that those were supposed to be humans, but rather other Seussian creatures. It doesn't help, again, that in his color pallet, people that would ordinarily be brown are now black-black, not unlike the most racist images of yesteryear. But the fact that their lips are left uncolored, I think, is what gets me. It's a little too close to black-face for comfort. Again, I think it would be okay to alter the image: color in their lips, change the shading. I know some people quibble with their costume, but some peoples do wear little amounts of clothing, so I don't think thats the issue here.

I can't speak to the other books, because I haven't seen those pictures, but I would say, yeah, some of the images and phrasing are problematic. I don't think that means the books are racist. Seuss isn't saying the Asian helpers or the African mazurka wranglers are less than the white child running the zoo. He is exotifying them to some degree, but the degree to which that is being done can, I believe, be fixed with very minor alterations.

Should the Books Be Banned?

Again, I think there are a couple questions here: are these books being banned, and should they be banned?

In our increasingly-willing-to-cancel culture, people like to talk about the difference between government censorship vs. corporate censorship, which is a valid topic. But when it comes to huge corporations like Amazon banning books from their website for hate speech or Ebay halting the ability of vendors to sell certain titles on their platform, to say "it’s a private corporation, so it's not censorship" is disingenuous. Maybe it doesn't violate the First Amendment, but it is censorship. A single bookstore refusing to sell a book, a single library refusing to carry a book, is censorship.

A single company that owns the rights to a book refusing to sell it is 100% censorship. I'm personally offended by the idea of any book being out-of-print in the day and age of print-on-demand, but I'm especially sickened when companies pull this nonsense. This is similar to foreign companies who refuse to publish novels, games, and videos in English copyright striking fanlations; they are not losing money, so why do they care?

In the case of the Seuss estate, or whoever owns the rights, all that they are doing is denying poor people access to books. That's right, if you can shell out $786 for a children's book, you can read these delightful stories. What's that? You're a single mom who works two jobs? Well, sucks to be you.

What's really vile is that people are saying, "It's only six books. You still have the others." First off, this is admitting that those six books are now censored and unavailable. Secondly, this is a stupid argument. It's like saying, "Well, the Nazi's didn't burn every book in Germany. There were plenty of others." What if I wanted to read the ones that were burned?

And that brings us to the question of whether or not those books ought to be banned. Heck, should they even be altered? Some of you might have balked at my saying I was fine with the images being changed; isn't that censorship? I think that would take it's own blog post, but here I'll just say that I don't think the changes I discussed would really alter the content, message, or meaning of the work. That being said, I don't think you have to change the images either.

That is, I think it's okay to publish, purchase, own, and read problematic material. As many commentators have pointed out, no child is going to be made into a racist by reading these books or seeing these images. Any racist or even iffy overtones are going to go right over their heads unless parents point them out. If, in the one in a million chance, your child actually notices anything wrong with the images, like "why is his skin yellow?" or something, then you can have a conversation about how sometimes, back in the day, people drew some not-so-nice pictures of Asian people and thought their skin should be painted as yellow, but we don't do that anymore, but this book was written a long time ago, etc etc. If they ask about what a Chinaman is, say it's an old word for a Chinese person, but you should never say it, because it can hurt people's feelings. Talk to your children; it isn't hard.

Should Any Books Be Banned

If you've been paying attention to what's been happening in book land lately, you'll know that Dr. Seuss's books are not the first to be put on the chopping block. Last year, Abigail Shrier's book, Irreversible Damage: The Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters, was removed from Target due to requests of trans activists. It was returned after backlash. Now I think it might be banned again? Who can even keep up anymore. Similarly, When Harry Became Sally: Responding to the Transgender Moment, by Ryan T. Anderson, has now been removed from Amazon for being "hate speech".

In the microcosm of the library world, I've had some people take issue with certain controversial books. When processing our new books, my part-timer picked up Irreversible Damage and asked, "Did someone request this?" as if we shouldn't have ordered it if they didn't. Both that book, and White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism, by Robin DiAngelo, were face out in our new book area, since they were the newest books. The former was turned backwards or put spine out with the older books multiple time by patrons, the latter turned backwards once. During the election, I found books for and against Trump hidden behind other books.

My question for people who do this in the library, and for corporations who do essentially the same thing on a massive scale, is who exactly do you think you are helping? Do you think anyone's mind is going to be changed on Trump? Or transgenderism, or white fragility, just by reading a book?

If the answer is "no", then why bother banning or hiding them? If the answer is yes, then that means you think books have the power to change minds, but you want to deny that opportunity to people. Rather than debating ideas, or writing a better book, or showing people why they shouldn't think a certain way, people are increasingly trying to banish certain ideas entirely. How dare an author question X, Y, or Z idea? How dare people be allowed to have an opinion different from the one we say they should!

What's so frustrating about cancel culture and censorship is that people think they really are trying to do the right thing. What they don't realize is, the people they cancel also think they are doing the right thing.

Take Irreversible Damage: obviously, those that want it banned think that trans kids will be hurt by the ideas expressed in the book, that they will be denied hormones and surgeries and so forth. I'm sure Abigail Shrier believes that trans kids would be hurt by no one examining the idea of wether or not they should be given hormones and surgeries as minors. Both sides care about kids. Both sides are trying to figure out how to help people. If you think that Shrier is wrong and her book is dangerous, then write a more compelling argument explaining why she's wrong.

An example of the right way to go about this is with White Fragility, a book that some people see as problematic, if not racist against white people or black people or both. People have written books specifically refuting the ideas in the book. Others have compiled titles that handle race more tactfully and that can be read instead. And that's the thing; you can choose what to read. You can choose never to read a book deemed problematic, but you have no right to take that choice away from other people.

Where Do Libraries Fall Into All This?

That "right to read" is one of the pillars or librarianship. The reason libraries exist is so that all people, regardless of money, have equal access to books, movies, and other aspects of our shared culture. We librarians understand that books are important not just for education, but also entertainment and escape. Stories are how we as humans process ideas, and everyone has a right to expose themselves to ideas--even controversial or dangerous or flat out wrong ones. They have the right to examine different sides of an issue and form their own conclusions. To try and control what a person reads is to try and control what they think, and no government or corporation has that right.

Thus, libraries don't ban books, wether those books are literary classics, modern treatises on current events and ideologies, or silly picture books by Dr. Seuss.

So it was with some concern that I got an email saying that our county library district would be taking the six Seuss books in question out of circulation. The rationale was that, given that a single book was selling for hundreds or thousands of dollars, some sticky-fingered patrons might steal then from the shelves or "lose" them after checking them out.

Though this logic was sound, I still had misgivings, especially because of incidences of library censorship in the past. Yes, even libraries have not been immune to the scourge. During the Cold War, some libraries would keep books about communism behind the reference desk so that people would have to ask to read them in the library. Not only did this potentially help identify commies, it also discouraged people from reading the books.

Thus, when our new policy is to keep the Seuss books "at the desk" and only let them be read in the library, is that not censorship? Is this accidental censorship, or perhaps intended by the very cancel culturists who want all problematic books to be sent down the memory hole?

No, I don't think it is, because--despite what the very mob who’s in favor of all of this would have you believe--intention matters. Reasons matter. We are not trying to make the books harder to read; we're trying to keep the books from becoming impossible to read. By protecting the books from theft, we're ensuring that the poor as well as the rich can enjoy Dr. Seuss's stories. This, in my mind, is similar to chained up bibles: it looks bad, until you remember that books were rare and expensive, and illuminated manuscripts even more so. If someone steals a book, no one gets to read it, but if a book is under lock and key, some people still can.

Of course, everyone could, if companies would simply stop censoring books, if stores would stop banning them, and if well-intentioned but short-sighted activists would stop digitally burning them. But maybe that's too much to hope for at present. For now, we librarians will have the books safe and sound for when you want to read them. You have only to ask.

13 notes · View notes

thechangeling · 4 years ago

Text

Aimless

For @sankalina sorry this took so long. This is a one shot about aged up Mina Carstairs. I might do a part two if people want.

Mina Castairs was having one of those days where everything was off. She woke up late, rushing through her makeup and looking slightly less put together then usual. It had taken her multiple tries to get her eyeliner looking half way decent. She hadn't even really bothered with her hair, just leaving it down and straight.

She was now daydreaming her way through Qin lesson. It was the instrument that her father had chosen the violin over. He had told her that he sometimes regretted that decision because there are certain Chinese melodies that can not be played on the violin. Mina had decided that she wanted to choose an instrument that represented her heritage as well as something that would stand out from the rest.

Jace played the piano, her father was a master of the violin, Janessa, Kit's best friend and unofficial Parabatai, played a variety of instruments and had the voice of an angel. Mina wanted to be different from the rest.

Kit had laughed when she told him that.

Why would you want to be more different? He had asked. We've already got targets on our backs.

She adored her brother. Truly. But he could be kind of an asshole sometimes.

Regardless, he had always been there for her since day one, looking out for her and guiding her, teaching her the things her parents didn't want her to know. When she was growing up, her father had taught her mandarin along with english and Kit had decided that he would learn it too because he wanted to be able to speak the same languages she spoke.

He of course had promptly decided to teach her swear words in both english and mandarin as well.

They were quite the dynamic duo despite the age difference. She had adopted a lot of Kit's personality which meant that according to her parents she was a lot like Will. Sassy, sarcastic and snarky.

People tended to appreciate the idea of boys with these particular personality traits more then girls.

Mina was deep in thought as she screwed up another note in the song she was trying to play. Her father chuckled good naturally, he had some basis knowledge of the instrument, and was helping her learn to play. Although she was learning partly on her own.

"I'm sorry I just suck today dad" Mina lamented with a deep sigh. Her father smiled sympathetically at her.

"Don't be so hard on yourself Mina mine" he said softly. "You seem distracted, is it Ellie?"

Ellenor Blackthorn-Penhallow was Mina's parabati and had been now for five years. She was the eldest daughter of Helen and Aline, adopted from Antwerp in Belgium when she was two. She also happened to be half seelie half shadowhunter just like Helen. When she met Ellie when she was nine and Mina was ten, something just clicked. It felt right. Ellie just understood her, challenged her, made her laugh.

She made Mina a better person.

She told her parents that she was pretty sure they were meant to be Parabatai and her dad had broken out another one of his infamous Will stories. She knew that the whole Parabatai thing was a soft spot for him. He had also told her a different story that day.

It was a story about someone named Yu Boya who played the qin, just like her. He had a best friend, a woodcutter named Zhong Ziqi, and he would play for him. They say that when Yu Boya played a song of water, his friend would know immediately that he was describing rushing rivers, and when he played of mountains, Ziqi would see their peaks. And Yu Boya would say, 'It is because you understand my music.

Kit of course, being Kit, had instantly chimed in with "That sounds kinda gay." Mina promptly threw a pillow at him.

Their father rolled his eyes good naturally the same way he always did around Kit. Mina could see that through Kit's usual bravado there were tears in his eyes. He was twirling the Blackthorn ring around his finger. He was also eyeing the tattoo of the Parabatai rune he had on his arm. He and Janessa definitely understood each others music. They also sung together beautifully.

Ty's music was different. Probably less instinctive for Kit, but still beautiful. They were married shortly after Mina and Ellie became Parabatai. Ty had been pretty nervous about a huge ceremony with tons of people, but Kit held his hands while carefully stroking the insides of Ty's palms and whispering into ear throughout the entire ceremony. It was almost as if they had been in their own private bubble.

Ellie did not make music like Mina. She was a graphic artist, obsessed with Belgian street art. But Mina found that they still worked quite well together on and off of the battlefield.

Mina shook her head trying to take herself back to the present. "No" she reassured him. "No it's not about Ellie, it's nothing." The truth was she didnt exactly know why she had been feeling off lately. She was getting to be that age where she was expected to know what she wanted to do with her life. Mina was expected to have direction and drive and some kind of...purpose.

Which she definitely didn't.

18 was the year she was supposed to go on her travel year, but her Parabatai was a year younger so Mina had to wait. They were planning on visiting Ellie's place of birth Antwerp, as well as Shanghai. Mina was now filling her time the same ways she usually did, Qin lessions and training, occassionally hanging out with Ellie and Anthony, and avoiding Gianna Blackthorn-Rosales. That girl was a bonified nightmare.

She was getting a little bored with her usual routine. The classic shadowhunter daily grind was not overly appealing to her. As for her warlock side, she was 18 and her powers still hadn't revealed themselves to her. Which was incredibly concerning seeing as it had happened much earlier for Lucie and James.

Maybe she didn't have any.

That was a terrifying thought. As much as she hated constantly being looked at as different, Mina also hated the idea of being painfully ordinary in a family of extraordinary people.

Just as she was finishing another song, there was a loud bang outside. Her father instantly rose from his seat and rushed to the door. She carefully placed her Qin back into it's case and followed him. Her mother came bursting through the door with Helen and Aline shortly after, almost knocking them aside.

Her mom looked to her father placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry" she panted breathlessly. "I was- We were running. The LA institute was attacked."

Her mother spared a glance back at Helen and Aline then looked towards her daughter.

"Mina darling" she said sympathetically. "It's- It's Ellie."

Mina's heart dropped. She could taste bile in her mouth. When she spoke she could hardly recognize her voice.

"What happened to Ellie?"

Her mother's face was almost pitying. Mina wanted to shake her.

She wished her next words were firm and commanding, like a shadowhunter. But her voice was timid and shaking, like a little girl who had just lost her favourite toy.

"Mom. Where's my Parabatai?"

She saw her father's face out if the corner of her eye. His expression was haunting.

"She's been taken."

#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #twp #the wicked powers #tmi #the mortal instruments #mina carstairs #tid #the infernal devices #kit x ty

47 notes · View notes

puckinghell · 6 years ago

Text

Wanna Bet | Travis Konecny

Summary Request: Omg Lou can you write something with the ”am I just a bet to you” storyline?! Word count: 4.2k Note: You guys asked for something with TK so here we are!

----

It’s kinda funny, how just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, hearing the wrong thing, can cause your entire world to fall to pieces.

You weren’t meant to walk past the locker rooms. Being in the analytics department, you don’t have to actually be in the arena much, and when you do, you’re in the stands, watching players on the ice to access if the data you have on them is correct.

A guy’s plus minus really only makes sense when you’ve seen the way he carries the puck, seen the way his legs pump as he skates.

No, you never have to be in the locker rooms for your job, but today you decided to take the long way from your office to the ice. Just so you could walk past him. Just so maybe, you could accidentally bump into him, sneak a kiss before the game, wish him good luck.

Now all you wish is to disappear.

The voices are a little far away but not muffled, as the door is slightly opened. It’s Ghost’s voice, that you hear first.

“I can’t believe you’re actually dating her, TK. And all because of some stupid bet!”

Dating her. You. Travis is dating you, so they must be talking about you. Laughter fills the hallways; laughing about you.

“I never lose a bet.” The voice is familiar, too familiar. Just last night that voice was soft in your ear, whispering all kinds of things he clearly had not meant.

A bet.

There’s a heavy feeling in your stomach, like a rock settled in your intestines. The thing is, well, you’d known it was too good to be true. Why would a guy like Travis Konecny be interested in you?

You weren’t WAG material. Weren’t even puck bunny material, really. You work in the analytics department, for God’s sake; you’re as nerdy as they get, love math and numbers, you even wear glasses, just to completely fit the stereotype.

And you’re not skinny. Never have been; no matter how many times you used to skip dessert, there has always been a little soft pudge on your stomach, your thighs have always rubbed together when you walk. You don’t do that anymore, now, skip dessert; you deserve some chocolate every now and then, and you deserve a guy who doesn’t care.

You hadn’t expected to find that guy in the Philadelphia Flyers locker room, but then Travis had shown up and you’d thought, stupidly, maybe...

The very first time you’d shown up at practice, when someone was showing you around after having just been hired, it had been Claude who first said hi. Captain’s duty, and all that. But it had been Travis that made you feel a little less nervous about all these big, bulky dudes, who seemed to slide on the dangerous knife shoes like they’d never walked before; he skated up to you, softly bumped into your shoulder and said: “Don’t let my numbers fool you. I’m an important locker room guy” before dumping his water bottle over Oskar Lindblom’s head.

Ever since then, he’d always been sure to make a little small talk when you were around. Sometimes, his comments had been borderline flirty: “Saw that goal? That was for you” and “Can you believe I missed that pass? Totally your fault for distracting me” but most of the time you talked about mundane things like the never ending snow and what restaurants were good for steak.

You never expected anything to come of it, though. Perhaps Travis was just one of those kinda guys that couldn’t talk to anyone without flirting. Or maybe he was just taking pity on you. He couldn’t mean it; not when you were you, and he was him. You might as well be from a different planet.

But then, one day, he’d skated over to the boards where you were standing, sent you a wide grin and asked; “Will you go to dinner with me? On a date?”

You’d nearly dropped your clipboard and you’d definitely dropped your jaw, but then you’d stumbled a “yes” and stared after him as he skated away. For a solid hour, you figured it must’ve been a joke or maybe Travis had taken a puck to the head and was so concussed he mistook you for someone else, but then he’d texted you a time and date and suddenly it was all very real.

It was so easy, then, to fall in love with him. Between lame jokes and broad grins and the way his hand was always resting on your back, you couldn’t stop yourself from falling for him, even though you tried to convince yourself that was a bad idea. It was so easy to forget it was doomed to end badly when all Travis ever did was say the right thing.

It was a bit like walking on a bridge you know is gonna collapse, and now, it’s collapsed.

I never lose a bet.

“I’m just a bet.” You don’t mean to say the words out loud but they fall from your lips before you can stop them, and apparently they’re louder than they sound to your own ears because suddenly the locker room goes very quiet.

You don’t get drunk a lot, but you know what it’s like to be very, very drunk; it’s like the world is a bit fuzzy, sounds are a bit muffled, and all you can focus on is the feeling of your heart beating, the way your tongue lays in your mouth, how heavy your feet feel against the earth.

All you’ve had to drink today is coffee but you feel like that, now.

“Y/N?” The voice is familiar but it’s not Travis; you’re met with Carter, a worried look on his face as he sticks his head out the door.

Beside Travis, Carter is the only guy on the team who really ever takes the time to talk to you. At first it was all just polite small talk, but then you found out you both liked the same TV shows and now you talk all the time. Carter is a complete sweetheart, would never hurt a fly, and that’s why it’s so hard for you to believe he knew this.

But you know, when you catch his eyes and there’s nothing but pity in them. He knew it was all a lie.

Carter steps aside, then, and Travis comes flying out the door, his eyes wide and mouth slightly slack.

“I’m just a bet.” You say it more forcefully because that’s the only way you can think of to make this make more sense. It doesn’t feel true, especially when Travis looks at you with clear panic written across his features.

If he didn’t care, why would he panic?

“Babe,” he starts, his voice a little scratchy, but he doesn’t say anything else and so you do the only thing you can think of doing.

“Are we dating cause you want to win a bet?”

Travis stares at you, swallows heavily.

Please say no. Please don’t let these last three months of my life be a waste of time. Please don’t make a fool out of me. Please say no.

“Yes, but...”

That’s all you need to hear; you need to get out of here before the tears that are threatening to well up in your eyes find their way out, before you lose that last sliver of dignity you might still have left.

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” you choke out, and then you’re pushing past Carter and out of the hallway, out of the arena, until the cold wind hits you in the face as you fumble with the lock of your car.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve learned from the last time.

---

You were 14 years old, an awkward teenager with few friends and no sense of self-preservation. You were sitting in the canteen on your own, eating lunch, because your only friend at the time had called in sick that day.

If she was there, you don’t think David would’ve approached you.

David was the cutest guy in school, and not just because he was the tallest. He had nice dark curls and sharp green eyes, and he was the captain of the football team. He always walked around with a bunch of guys following him around like lost puppies, and he was endlessly cool.

You, were not. You were part of the drama club, you excelled in math and the braces you had hadn’t managed to make your teeth look any smaller so far, and you were used to people snickering behind your back when you walked past.

Of course you had a crush on David. Everyone had a crush on David. And the fact that he’d never actually made fun of you made that you allowed yourself that crush; it was just to look, just from afar.

Until he came up to you, that day, his posse of friends in tow, and smiled.

“Hey, Y/N, you wanna maybe go watch a movie with me on Friday?”

Everything inside you screamed ‘danger’, wanted to say no and run away. But something, just a little sliver of hope, stopped you from doing that. The part of you that watched too many romcoms and read too many Nicolas Sparks books wondered if maybe miracles still happened. That part of you said yes.

As soon as you said the word, David’s friends had started laughing.

“Dude, she actually believed you!” one of them laughed. “I guess I owe you 20 bucks, man.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” David said, shrugging his shoulders. “Matt said you wouldn’t believe me if I asked, he thought you would know that guys like me don’t date girls like you. Guess he’s even dumber than he looks and you just made me 20 bucks!”

He left and you ran off to cry in the bathroom, but you learned one thing that day.

Guys like that didn’t date girls like you. And that part of you that still believed in fairytales needed to be locked up in a box somewhere and never let out, because that part of you would kill you, if you let it.

---

You tried, to lock that part away, and you’d managed. Until Travis had looked at you with honest brown eyes and a little smile and you’d thrown away everything you had worked so hard for.

What good had that done.

When you were 14 you locked yourself up in the bathroom until your mom came to pick you up from school. This time you lock yourself in your apartment and eat an entire box of cookies while you watch Property Brothers and cry yourself to sleep at night. The next day, you call in sick to work and watch Gilmore Girls and order Chinese.

It’s maybe not the healthiest way to deal with things but it’s a way, and it works. Well, not really; you still feel like shit, but it works enough that you find the strength to ignore your phone buzzing and eventually shut it off without looking at it.

You turn it back on in the evening and don’t respond to all the missed messages and calls - mostly from Travis, but a few from Carter too - and fall asleep listening to Adele.

It’s not easy but you’ve gone through a lot in your life and you won’t let yourself be miserable over something like this for too long. If anything, this has just taught you that same lesson you learned when you were 14.

Guys like that, girls like you, etcetera etcetera. This time, you’re gonna remember. This time, you’re gonna know better.

Every now and then you think of Travis, wonder what he got out of this bet and what exactly he bet on.

Did he bet on getting you to believe a guy like him could be interested in you, like David? Or was it more? How many dates was he obliged to go on to win the bet? Was the sex part of the bet or was that just because you were there and it was easy? Why had he been so nice, if it was part of the bet?

You try not to think about it. It gets easier when Travis stops texting and calling you. You haven’t read any of his texts, or listened to his voicemails. In fact, you barely touch your phone, nowadays.

When you go to work, you avoid the guys on the team at all costs, and it’s easier than you thought it would be. You sit high in the stands and write in your notebook and try to not feel your heart sink in your chest when you see Konecny on your paper.

It’s fine, you can manage. You’re an adult and you will move on with life and forget about these three months ever happening. You promise yourself you will and you seem to do okay.

Until one day you come home and you find Nolan Patrick sitting on the floor in front of your apartment door, two take away cups in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, crossing your arms. You know Nolan hasn’t technically done anything to you but he’s Travis’ best friend and therefor he is guilty by association. Also, he’s always been nice to you and that was clearly all fake, so fuck him for that, too.

“Oh, hi!” Nolan scrambles up when he spots you, extends one cup towards you. “I brought coffee. Hazelnut latte, one sugar and some cinnamon.”

You frown, and he seems to understand your question, cause he shrugs.

“Teeks remembered your coffee order.”

You almost ask him why; why would Travis remember your coffee order if he clearly didn’t care about you at all, but you don’t ask him that because why would he tell you the truth? Instead you take the coffee, open your apartment door and step inside without saying anything.

You let the door fall behind you, but before it can click into the lock Nolan has put his foot in front of it, and then he slips into your apartment.

“Nice place,” he says, as if it’s not super weird that he’s here, and then he flops down onto the couch.

“Right, sit down, make yourself at home,” you snap sarcastically; you grab your mail and start sorting through it, more because you don’t know what else to do than because you actually wanna know what mail you have.

Why is Nolan here?

“You must wanna know why I’m here,” Nolan speaks, as if he can read your mind.

You don’t remind him that’s the first question you asked.

“I’m here,” Nolan continues, seemingly unbothered by your cold shoulder, “because you deserve to know the truth, and you won’t answer the phone so Teeks can tell you himself. Which I don’t blame you for, cause, you know, if he did what you think he did I would’ve kicked his ass myself.”

What you think he did?

“But,” Nolan crosses his arms now, seems genuinely offended, “you’re mad at Hartsy, really? You can’t be mad at Hartsy. That’s like being mad at a puppy. Or a bunny. Or anything else that’s super cute and impossible to be mad at.”

“He knew and he didn’t tell me.” You didn’t mean to break your silence but you’ve got a soft spot for Carter and, to be honest, it’s almost been harder to ignore him than it has been to ignore Travis.

At least with Travis, you know what happened. He thought you were pathetic and it would be funny to turn you into a joke.

With Carter, it’s not so clear. Did he actually like you? Did he think Travis’ bet was funny? Or did he secretly disapprove but just not find it important enough to stand up for you? Or, maybe, did he try to stand up for you, but Travis didn’t listen?

You know you shouldn’t allow yourself to hope for that last option but you can’t help it.

Nolan rolls his eyes. “Hartsy didn’t know shit, all he knows is that Teeks is stupidly in love with you and that you’re good for him. He said that once, you know. That Teeks should never let you go because you’re good for him.” Nolan looks a bit sad as he said it, his face pulled into a pained expression.

It might be because of the way your face drops at his words.

Teeks is stupidly in love with you.

“He’s not,” you manage to bring out. “In... into me. It was all just a joke.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Nolan shakes his head, then takes a sip of his coffee. “Y/N, can I be honest? I don’t know you very well. I think you’re a great girl, but I don’t know you enough to care about your feelings.”

Well, ouch. The truth hurts.

“I have no reason to be here and lie to you.”

You have to admit he has a point there. If Travis genuinely doesn’t care, why would Nolan be here? It’s not like you’ve ever even held a proper conversation with Nolan. He’s always just been Travis’ roommate, Travis’ best friend, Travis’ teammate.

“So why are you here?” you dare ask him, and he smiles, a little smugly.

“Cause I have a story about a bet, and I think you’d like to hear it.”

---

It’s weird, to be back at Travis’ apartment. Nolan’s footsteps are heavy in the empty hallway; he’s walking a good meter in front of you and you don’t try to catch up to him because with every step you take it’s like you sink deeper into the floor.

“Come on,” Nolan says, impatiently. He takes his keys out of his pocket and opens the door to their apartment.

Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it all the way in your throat.

“Ooooh Teeks!” he calls out, annoyingly chipper. “TK! I have a surprise for you!”

“Is it Thai? If it’s not Thai I don’t want it.”

Travis sounds tired but he sounds so familiar, so like Travis, and it washes over you like a comfort blanket, fills you with warmth from the inside out.

“You’re really gonna regret saying that,” Nolan answers, and then he suddenly steps behind you and pushes you into the living room.

The second Travis’ eyes meet yours, all the blood drains from his face and his eyes widen almost comically. Within a second he’s standing up, the xBox controller falling onto the floor; his hands are in the air like he’s going to reach out for you, but then they drop to his sides and his jaw clenches.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “Are you here to get your stuff?”

Nolan has made himself scarce very discreetly and now that it’s just you and Travis, you suddenly don’t remember how to talk.

It’s silent, for a solid five seconds - but it feels like 50 years - before your brain starts working again. It’s Nolan’s voice, that you hear in the back of your head, and then your own, as if one voice is fighting with the other.

Teeks is stupidly in love with you.

I’m just a bet.

Stupidly in love with you.

Just a bet.

“What was the bet?” you burst out. It might not be the right way, might be too sudden or too harsh, and there’s not really a reason for you to ask; Nolan has already told you.

But you wanna hear Travis say it. You need to hear Travis say it.

Travis’ face crumples, his eyebrows knot together and his eyes drop to the floor. It looks as if it pains him to speak, but he speaks.

“It was so dumb, Y/N. You have to believe me, I never meant... I didn’t want this to happen. I’m sorry.”

You swallow; there’s a lump in your throat that seems to be stuck there, that’s in the way of your vocal chords, but you just manage to repeat the words.

“What was the bet you made, Travis?”

Travis inhales sharply, and then looks up. His eyes are staring intently into yours when he answers.

“Ghosty bet me I wouldn’t dare to ask you out.”

“Why?” you ask. “Why would he think that?”

There’s a lot of answers you’re expecting, all of which allude to the same thing; you’re not good enough for him.

You’re not pretty enough. Not fun enough. Not thin enough. Not charming enough.

“Because you’re way out of my league and I would’ve looked stupid if I asked and you said no.”

It’s like everything inside you deflates, at that point; your shoulders sag and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” says Travis. “Oh.” He sighs and then takes a step closer, a little one, very tentatively; as if he’s afraid you’re gonna turn around and run, if he moves too much. “I know it’s stupid, but I hate losing bets and the boys know that, so whenever they want me to do something I don’t wanna do, or in this case, am too afraid to do, they tell me that I can’t and I bet them that I can. They were all getting a bit sick of me pining after you so Ghosty thought, if he just said I couldn’t ask you out...”

“Then you would bet that you could,” you finish his sentence.

Oh God. You’d gotten it so wrong.

“So,” you continue, softly, “they didn’t bet you to ask me out as a joke. Because they thought it would be funny if a guy like you asked out a girl like me.”

The skin around Travis’ eyes crinkles as he frowns. “What does that even mean?” he asks.

“Because you’re really hot, and really great, and I’m really nerdy, and not very pretty. And I’m not good enough for you.”

Travis’ breath stutters as he hears you speak. “That’s.... insane,” he brings out, stammering. “Y/N, if anything, I’m not good enough for you. You’re so gorgeous, and so smart, and you look at numbers and see a Stanley Cup winning team and I struggle to hit a piece of rubber with a big stick. I couldn’t keep up with you even if I tried.”

He takes a bigger step towards you, now, your words seemingly giving him a bit of courage.

“I’m sorry for making you think all of this was based on a lie,” he mumbles, and he carefully takes your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours as his thumb traces lines across your knuckles. “But I promise you, it’s not like that. None of this was fake to me. I wanted to ask you out long before I got the guts to do it and I’ve been happy about taking that bet ever since.” He takes a deep breath. “I love you. And that has nothing to do with any dumb bet.”

Your heart leaps; he’s never said that before, and neither have you. You’ve felt it, sure, but there was always something inside you wondering if it was too soon, if you were just asking for trouble by saying it.

But there’s nothing but honest truth in Travis’ brown eyes, now, and suddenly you’re not afraid anymore.

“I love you too,” you say, and the words aren’t out of your mouth yet or Travis’ lips are on yours.

His hands are firm on your waist as he tugs you closer, and it’s like you can’t feel anything but him, everywhere, and it’s like everything that happened before has been forgotten.

Until he pulls away, both of you gasping for air, and you remember something else.

“Oh my God, I have to call Carter back,” you mumble against Travis’ shirt; he’s pulled you flat against him and nestled his face in your shoulder, meaning you’re now being smothered by his chest.

There are worse ways to go.

Travis laughs lightly, his breath hot against your neck.

“Really?” he says. “I kiss you for the first time in two weeks and you think of Hartsy?”

“I’ve been ignoring him, and that’s not fair, cause he, oh...” you break off as Travis presses a kiss to the sensitive skin on your neck, “cause he’s a great friend and... Trav!” The last part comes out as more of a whine and Travis chuckles.

“Hartsy can wait another hour, babe.” He starts pressing kisses along your jaw and you groan, lightly shoving against his shoulder.

“Trav, I gotta call Carter and...” You bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning as his teeth scrape across your skin “and I don’t know what you think you’re doing but you’re not getting me naked within the first hour of getting back together!”

“No?” Travis pulls away, one eyebrow raised, and there’s a smug look on his face. His hands slowly travel to your back, fingers sliding below your shirt, and despite your best efforts, you can’t stop yourself from shivering.

“Hmm,” Travis hums, right before he kisses you again.

“Wanna bet?”

#philadephia flyers #travis konecny #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl fic #philadephia flyers imagine #philadephia flyers one shot #travis konecny imagine #travis konecny one shot

773 notes · View notes

marwritesgood · 6 years ago

Text

Collateral | O. Diaz

Pairing: Oscar x Matinez!Reader

Timeframe: Post-Season One

Summary: When Y/n’s life is placed in jeopardy, everyone she loves is worried sick. Especially since it isn’t just her life on the line.

A/N: This imagine is pretty intense, so please just keep that in mind before reading. Am also considering writing a second part, so tell me what you think x

“Does it show?”

I looked at Oscar through his reflection in my full-length mirror. He had spent the night at my apartment, and was lounging on my bed, watching me intently as I got ready for Olivia’s quinceanera.

“Baby, you’re only a few months along,” he laughed, his smile growing wider as I rubbed my stomach. “- And I still don’t get why this is something you need to hide.”

As he spoke, he slowly got up from my bed and stood behind me, snaking his arms around my waist placing light kisses on the crook of my neck.

“It’s not that I wanna hide my pregnancy,” I began, turning and and looking Oscar in the eye. “Olivia’s just had a rough couple of months... Today should be about her. But, as soon as the Quinceanera is over, I will tell everyone, okay?”

“Whatever you say, babymama,” he whispers, before leaning in and kissing me softly. As he pulls away, I scrunch my nose at him.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” I said, before wrapping my arms around his neck. He pulls me closer and smiles. He did a lot of that- smiling and holding me close to him, even more so after we found out we were expecting our first child together. It was definitely something I could get used to.

“I’m just excited,” he murmured. “And I like knowing your my babymama... I like knowing we’re gonna be parents soon.”

And I liked it too. I really really did.

******

After Olivia and her court made their entrance, Cesar was helping me bring out the last platters of food to my mum, who was organising where everything was going.

“Are you sure you’re okay carrying that?” He asked, as I reached to pick up the last platter of quesadillas. “Because I can finish it up, so you can rest. I read that heavy lifting isn’t good for the-”

“Cesar, I will be fine,” I reassured him. “It’s just a plate of quesadillas. You and your brother are way too much alike, I swear.”

He picks up the last platters and follows me to where the food table was. People were already dancing in the middle of our driveway, my abuelita included.

“But, forreal, Y/n, if there’s anything I can do to make this whole thing easier-”

“Make what thing easier?”

My mother turned around abruptly, and snuck her way into our conversation. As she took the patters off our hands and organised them on the table, she managed to maintain eye contact with either me or Cesar throughout.

“Uh-”

As soon as Cesar spoke, I shot him a look and shook my head subtly. He nods and turns back to my mother, who was waiting for a reply from one of us.

“He means cleaning up,” I answered. “- After the qunices... Remember how I said I would help clean up, mami?”

“Oh... okay,” she replies, before turning her attention back to a distant relative who made their way over. I quickly pulled Cesar aside.

“I’m telling them after this is over, Cesar,” I began. “So can you please please not tell anyone for the next twelve hours? I want them to hear it from me.”

“Got it,” he nodded, before smirking at me. “Anything for my brother’s babymama.”

“Okay, whatever,” I laughed, before nudging his shoulder lightly. “Don’t have a certain Mose to be dancing with? I think they’re gonna be playing a slow song soon.”

As he walked away and headed towards where Monse was standing, I went back inside to get a head-start on cleaning the dishes. My mother had been cranky the entire week, so the least I felt I could do was make her workload as small as possible.

As I turned to grab the rest of the dirty dishes from the kitchen table, I noticed a hooded figure heading towards the entrance to where the dance floor was. Whenever you see something like that happen on our block, the first thing you need to do is warn the people who might be in harms way.

So I quickly headed towards where everyone was gathered, and I tried to look for where the hooded figure was walking. And then I found him, heading straight towards where Ruby, Olivia, Monse and Cesar were dancing. I knew instantly, then, who the figure was.

Racing straight towards where the kids were dancing, I pulled Ruby behind me and instinctively shielded him from getting in harms way.

“Cesar!” Ruby yells, prompting Cesar to pull Monse behind him.

Latrelle pulled out an object from inside his jacket, and before I realised what he was about to do, a loud noise sounded throughout the perimeter and I felt a strong burning sensation on my right shoulder.

“Mija!”

The last thing I remember seeing was my mom racing towards me, and my brother cradling my head. Everything else became darkness in what felt like a spilt second.

******

As everyone fled the scene, either to follow the ambulance that carried Y/n, or to rush home to safety, Cesar sat on the steps of the Martinez’s front porch and waited for his older brother to arrive. Needless to say he was terrified of what was about to happen. And rightfully so.

“Cesar, I am gonna kill you.”

Never in his life had he ever seen his brother so angry. But Cesar understood why. Hell, he was just as angry at himself. It was because of him that the lives of his brother’s soulmate and their firstborn were on the line.

“Oscar, I’m so sorr-”

Before he could finish crying out an apology, Spooky’s fist collided with his jaw.

“The one time, Cesar.” Oscar’s voice began to crack, something Cesar was not unfamiliar with, but knew was a significant sign. He really messed up. “The one time I count on you for something, you let me down.”

“I know, I’m so so-”

“No.” Oscar kissed his teeth loudly and aggressively kicked the rocks on the pavement. “You fucked up, Cesar. You fucked up really bad.”

“What do I do, Oscar?” At this point he was begging. Begging for his brother to do what he had done his whole life: save him and clean up his mess. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“You can’t do anything,” Oscar replied monotonously. “Come pick your stuff up from the crib tomorrow, and don’t ever show your face to me again... You’re done.”

“No,” Cesar cried, following after his older brother like a lost puppy. “Please. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t know this would happen. Please just help me fix this. Please, Oscar.”

With fought back tears and a lump in his throat, Oscar turned around and engulfed his little brother in a hug.

“I love you, mana,” he whispered. “But you’re on your own.”

******

The next thing I saw was the ceiling of my hospital room. After a few more days of being in the hospital, I was finally discharged and my parents brought me home where I agreed to stay until I felt safe and well enough to go back to my apartment.

“Thank goodness you and the baby are okay,” my abuelita commented, as she tucked me into bed. The same bed Olivia used. I never wanted to leave home as much as I did when I found out that’s where I would be crashing until I healed up. “I can’t believe I’m gonna. be a great-grandmother.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a Grandmother,” my mother chimed in, as she began unpacking my hospital bags into the drawers.

“I didn’t want you guys to find out this way,” I muttered, as I leaned back against the headboard. “Are you... Are you two mad?”

Before the twins were born, I was the only girl in my family. With that in mind, both my mother and grandmother have always held high expectations when it came to me and my future. As much as I loved Spooky, and loved the fact that we were gonna be bringing life into the world, it would mean just as much to me to know that they were okay with this too.

After exchanging looks with one another, my mother sighed before placing my clothes down and sitting on the edge of the bed. Abuelita does the same.

“Of course we aren’t, mija,” my mom whispers, before gently grabbing hold of my hand. “Do we think this maybe could’ve happened a bit later in your life, sure. But, with everything that’s happened, and everything we’ve been through... Mija, you are so strong, and courageous.”

“You don’t have to-” I began, wiping the tears away from my eyes.

“I saw what you did for your brother that night,” she whispered. “You’re gonna be an amazing mother, and I cannot wait to meet my grandchild.”

“-and great-grandchlid,” Abuelita added.

They both leaned towards me for a hug, before pulling away after hearing Ruby knock on my door. After they let go of me, we all turned to the doorway. There, we saw Oscar holding a duffel bag and a bowl from the Chinese takeaways places located across from my apartment.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” my mother whispered, before following Ruby and Abuelita out the door. “- Pero, keep the door open! One grandbaby is enough.”

I rolled my eyes, and sat up, before patting the empty space next to me so Oscar could sit down. I hadn’t seen him since I first woke up in the hospital. It was needless to say I missed him. Very much.

“I got you that combo you like,” he explained, before placing the bowl of food on the nightstand. “I know it’s one of your cravings.”

“How’d you figure that out?” I asked, smiling at how much attention he paid to the little details. I always appreciated that about him. It showed a lot.

“You used to like the other combo, remember?” He smiled, before reaching for my hand. I did remember. “Then, when you became my babymama you started getting this one... Like everyday.”

“I missed hearing you call me that,” I whispered. “How come you didn’t come visit me the past few days?”

I was asking more out of concern than anything else, but it still did hurt not seeing him, even if it was just for a few days.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, crinkling his eyebrows at the realisation that he hurt me, even if it was unintentional. “I... had to deal with some things.”

“Yeah... like the truce?” Oscar raised his eyebrows. Shocked that I knew about it so quickly. “Jamal kept me company in the hospital, before I was discharged this morning.”

He laughed, and continued to rub his thumb across the back of my hand. I stared at our hands intently for a while, until I noticed the faint trace of bruising along his knuckles. I had a small idea as to who he might have punched.

“You kicked Cesar out didn’t you?”

He coughed lightly, and straightened his posture, which gave me more than enough answer.

“Spooky, c’mon, he never meant for this to happen.”

“It’s done, Y/n.” His mind was already made up, and I knew better than to try and convince his stubborn ass to think otherwise. I also knew he would come around eventually. He loved Cesar too much to just leave him out in the cold.

I did too.

*****

It was New Years Eve, and around about a month since Olivia’s quinceanera. I had excused myself from the party going on at home, because I noticed a familiar figure standing in front of the memorial we made to Olivia outside of our gates.

Cesar was standing in front of her photo, with his head down and tear running down his cheeks. I slowly walked behind him and draped my blanket over his shoulder.

“How many times have I told you to wear something warm when you’re out at night?” I whispered, catching him by surprise.

He looked different. Like the light had been sucked out his soul. It broke my heart to see him like that.

“Y/n? What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t catch a cold,” I joked, before wrapping my arm around him for extra warmth. “And also making sure you don’t enter the New Year alone.”

“Wh-why?” He seemed to be genuinely confused. “After everything, I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

“Cesar...”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he cried, looking at his feet. “It’s my fault all of this happened. It’s my fault you got shot. It’s my fault Olivia...”

“Hey, stop that,” I murmured, before lifting his chin up and holding his face with both of my hands. The way I used to with Mario and Ruby whenever they would get overwhelmed. Which happened a lot. “Cesar, this was not your fault... None of it.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do.” Without thinking twice, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into a hug. “If I hadn’t been on bed rest for the past month, and if this baby would stop kicking me every goddam second, I would have told you this earlier... Stop beating yourself up about this, Cesar. You never meant to hurt anyone... I know that. Olivia knew that... Hell, even your niece knows that.”

“Niece?” He finally broke a smile, and it finally felt like the light was coming back. Both into his soul and mine. “It’s a girl?”

“I found out two days ago. You’re the only one who knows.”

“Really? You haven’t even told Oscar?”

“No, not yet,” I replied. “But when I make the announcement, you have to act surprised. Ruby will never forgive me if he finds out I told you and didn’t tell him.”

Cesar and I stood outside the gate laughing. And for the first time in a month, I finally felt okay again. Now that Cesar knew I didn’t blame him for what happened, I finally felt like I had my family back.

Even if him and his brother hadn’t quite reconciled yet.

NEXT PART

#oscar #Oscar Diaz #oscar x reader #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader #spooky imagines #spooky imagine #spooky x reader #fanfiction #on my block #on my block masterlist #on my block imagines #on my block fanfiction

971 notes · View notes

wexlerkimberly · 4 years ago

Text

oh god, yearly round-up.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

side note: this is my TENTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! year of doing this!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have been on this website for OVER 10 years!!!!!!!!!!!!!! jesus christ.

ok. on a completely personal level, last year was so fucking dreadful that i remember falling asleep at my friends house on new years eve and thinking: “well, at least this year can’t be any worse”. HMMMM. in all seriousness though, despite everything, i have had a mostly decent year. i’m very lucky in lots and lots of ways. i’m lucky none of my closest family or loved ones have been effected too deeply by covid. just mild inconvenience, at most. i am lucky that i live in a house with such a large garden, so i could enjoy fresh air and family-free time if i needed to. i am lucky the weather has been mostly nice this year so i could go for plenty of walks. i’m lucky that i’m naturally a very quiet, anti-social person anyway so i haven’t felt the strain of isolation as severely as others.

most of all, this year has been boring, if anything. but there’s still been things that have made it nice. january - birthday!!! i don’t usually go hard or anything for my birthday but it stands out to me as a really lovely day. i went for a walk to one of my favourite hills with my dad & dogs during the day. in the evening, i had badminton with my friends as i used to most thursdays (INDOOR SPORTS?!?!?!!? REMEMBER INDOORS SPORTS?!?!!?!?!) and then, as per our tradition, i went back to their flat for take-away chips and halloumi burgers. because they are so unbelievably generous and lovely, my friends bought me a new badminton racket for my birthday. i feel like i’ve barely got a chance to use this year, for obvious reasons, but i can’t wait to use it so much more as soon as possible. the following day, i went to work as normal but then went out to a really nice italian place with my family for a meal and we did birthday cake & candles when we got home. feeling stupidly grateful for so many thoughtful people in my life. february - again, this year has been so dry that a trip to the cinema could be considered a high point. but it was my only cinema trip of the year and just a really nice day. me & my friend saw jojo rabbit (which was great, if you haven’t seen it already) and afterwards we ambled around town looking at things in shops. it sounds so simple but i haven’t done any of that stuff since really, so it feels so exciting and exotic when i think back on it.

february - stayed at my grandma’s house for the weekend. we do that as often as we can, usually, and it’s always nice. but - obviously - we haven’t been able to see my grandma much at all this year. it was nice to sit in front of the fire with her and watch tv and be given access to all sorts of baked goods and walk up the hills around by her. on the sunday, we managed to pop-in on my nana & grandad too and eat many baked goods there too.

march - meal out for my brother’s birthday. i feel like a lot of my “special days” this year revolved around someone’s birthday this year. but i think this was our last day of ‘normalcy’ before things went a bit crazy here. my family went to a caribbean pub with my brother and his gf and we had lovely tasty food and a nice night out. i think that was the last day i wore anything other than pyjamas or leggings for a long time.

april - no joke, i remember going to the vets during the peak of lockdown when the whole country was essentially shut down and it felt like THE most exciting day of my life. my cat was fine (she’d been bitten and needed painkillers for an infection but she was absolutely fine!) but i remember being near giddy in the car. my sister came with us too even though she didn’t need to because of how exciting it felt.

may - my brother’s birthday. the other one. the first of our lockdown birthdays. we popped in to drop a card off at a friend’s who shares the same birthday as him. then we drove (DROVE! IN A CAR!) to a stretch of really lovely canal that my brother likes to walk on and had a great walk. in the evening, we ordered in an indian take-away and my sister had made a FAT four-tiered chocolate cake to celebrate.

may - ok this is very dumb but i finished breaking bad this year and i set aside a special date to watch el camino. i made a very sickly millionaire’s cheesecake and my whole family gathered round the tv to eat and re/watch el camino. it’s so dumb and silly but i was so excited, it felt like a special cinematic event. i cried.

june - my dad’s birthday. my dad, my brother & me (plus dogs) drove out of the county (rogue fugitives!!!!!!) to meet my grandad for a socially distanced chat and picnic. it was a bit weird not being able to hug him and sitting on separate benches but it was still great to see him. we had a takeaway chinese for dinner and a chocolate cake for dessert.

july - my sister’s birthday. we technically celebrated it 4 days earlier because she had to move into her new flat but we had a nice indian take-away and another bloody chocolate birthday cake.

july - my mom’s birthday. i honestly cannot remember what we ate - i think we had homemade pizzas in the garden??? it’s weird when food dictates the differences between days. anyway, i definitely made another birthday cake.

july - went for a socially distanced walk with a friend i haven’t seen in ages. it was lovely and the weather was very kind to us and it was great to go walking across fields and to a reservoir i hadn’t been to in years and years.

august - my brother got his GCSE results and we ate pizza in the garden to celebrate. after the monumental government fuck-up with results, we were a bit nervous about how badly they’d ruin his chances but he did very well.

september - went to visit my grandma. she had been living by herself for the entirity of the pandemic (she doesn’t mind, she’s loves to garden and she does online latin and pilates classes, she’s a very busy lady) but i think she enjoyed seeing us. we were plied full of food once again. we went for a lovely evening ramble on the hills right by her house. on the sunday, my dad went for a walk with a friend he hasn’t seen in ages while me, my brother and my grandma went for another hill walk elsewhere. i think my grandma really enjoyed that because she hasn’t been able to go walking much because she was so anxious about tripping and being completely alone, or being rescued by someone carrying The Virus. so it was nice to accompany her. after that, we had a nice socially distanced meeting with my grandparents in their garden. it felt very risky to me because i am insanely anxious but my grandma, my grandad and my nana are all very safe and healthy.

october - halloween!!! i never celebrate halloween BUT this year, i was so sick of being the house every single day i decided to organise something different. so in the evening, me, my dad & my brother went for a halloween walk in the countryside through a graveyard, then through a field where there used to be an old abonnonded saxon village, and then finally through hagley wood where bella of wych elm was found. my dad & my brother were completely uneffected but i was absolutely shitting myself at every tiny little thing. my dogs had their little flashing colours on and we all had torches but i was still so pathetically spooked by everything. after the walk, we met my mom in the car (i had to get changed in the car from my walking stuff to vaguely presentable clothes) then we went to a goddamn PUB!!!!!!!!! to eat a meal!!!!!!!!!!! i went a bit overboard making my family santise their hands every 5 minutes but we definitely had a lovely meal.

november - did a bonfire in the garden for bonfire night. ate homemade vegan chilli and then apple crumble. it was freezing cold and we tried to stay out there for as long as we could. i even managed to find some sparklers and me & my brother waltzed around the garden with them, likesay we’re not an adult and a child-grown. the others melted marshmallows on the fire and i just enjoyed watching the fireworks i could see and throwing balls for the dogs.

november - we’re brits lmao but when joe biden’s presidency was finally confirmed, we celebrated with an indonesian take-away because fuck it!!!!!!!! gotta celebrate where we could this year!!!!!!!!!!

december - christmas!!!!!!!!!!!! we usually have christmas every year at my grandma’s house with my aunt and her boyfriend. it’s a fairly decent sized house out in the countryside and she has a wood-burning fire and it just Feels more christmassy there, especially as i’ve literally only ever spent one single christmas at home before. but we still managed to make it very special this year i think. my sister came on the 13th and we got quickly into a routine of watching christmas films in the evening. on christmas eve, i made vegan gingerbread biscuits and vegan mince pies and my sister made a chocolate yule log cake and then we watched a film. on christmas morning, we all opened our presents in our own living room which felt weird but was still lovely. afterwards, we went for a family walk. my mom pretty much single-handedly (me & my sister helped) cooked a whole christmas dinner for the 6 of us with all the trimmings. usually it’s my grandma, my aunt and my mom but the fact my mom managed to cook such a goddamn feast with our shitty oven where the grill doesn’t work and you have to slam the oven door at least 5 times before it shuts.......... i’m convinced she Might be superwoman?!?!!?!? and it was SO good. in the evening, we had cheese & crackers and my sister’s tasty yule log and we watched many a film. boxing day was much the same but still nice. this whole stretch between christmas and new years day is usually painfully boring but this year has been good, i think. i have consumed an entire army’s worth of cheese and chocolate and i have definitely enjoyed the snow we’ve had here recently.

so. yeah. this is very basic and boring. none of these things would usually end up in my write-up of the year. but i haven’t been to a single concert or theatre trip or even really left the midlands at all. in my round-up last year, i wrote some stupid sentimental bullshit about romanticising “the most basic and boring aspects of life” and never has that been so apt. on the face of it, this year has been SO boring. but i’ve managed to make it enjoyable in the tiniest ways.

for example, i enjoyed every single sunny day. i would jump on the trampoline and listen to podcasts. i would go running and listen to podcasts. i would go walking and listen to podcasts. i owe a lot to podcasts, i think. but i definitively owe a LOTTTTT to walking. i walk for a living (i’m a dog-walker lmao) but i would still go out for walks with my own dogs in the evening or go out for walks with my dad in the morning where i could. if we thought we made good use of the pizza oven last year, this year has been insane. i have made and cooked SO! MANY! pizzas this year and they were all excellent. i feel like food has been really important this year. like i said, it helps distinguish the days, especially “special” or “treat” foods. like everyone i have done a lottt of baking this year. especially when it’s been such a great year for fruit!!! there’s a field near me and there’s just simply shit loads of blackberries and raspberries that grow there. i remember one evening sat in the garden eating some mango sorbet my sister made with some raspberries i picked from the field and thinking that life simply does not get better than that. idk. it’s nice to take pleasure in the smallest things i think.

but, like i said, i have been so lucky this year. i was only off work temporarily and none of my immediate circle have been directly impacted by the effects of covid. as annoying as they are, i’m very lucky to have spent so much time with my family - as opposed to be being by myself - because it’s nice when we make food for each other and watch tv and films together or go for walks together.

god. this is long and waffley. if you read all this: what the fuck is wrong with you? but also: thank you! i know 2021 is definitely going to start off rocky but i strongly believe - and i’m a massive pessimist - that things are going to get better. love and strength to everyone. wishing you peace and comfort x

(again: i cannot believe i have been writing up this silly little incoherent things for a decade!!! sometimes i like to go back and read the earlier ones and remind myself of old fun times and cringe at teenage me. here’s to... 10 more years??? hahahahaha. anyway:here’s the other 9 years of nonsense: 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, and, finally, 2011.)

#2020 #personal #text #txt #hi it's me x

2 notes · View notes

aspencreek · 5 years ago

Text

Smoke Bitten Excerpt

1 "Are you okay, Mercy?" Tad asked me as he disconnected the wiring harness from the headlight of the 2000 Jetta we were working on. We were replacing a radiator. To do that, we had to take the whole front clip off. It was a rush case on a couple of fronts. The owner had been driving from Portland to Missoula, Montana, when her car blew the radiator. We needed to get her back on the road so she could make her job interview tomorrow at eight a.m. The task was made more urgent by the fact that the owner and her three children under five were occupying the office. She had, she told me, family in Missoula who could watch her children, but nobody but her alcoholic ex-husband to watch them in Portland, so she'd brought them with her. I wished she had family here to watch them. I liked kids, but tired kids cooped up in my office space were another matter. To speed up the repair, Tad was taking the left side and I was working on the right. Like me, he wore grease-stained overalls. Summer still held sway-if only just-so those overalls were stained with sweat, too. Even his hair showed the effects of working in the heat, sticking out at odd angles. It was also tipped here and there with the same grease that marked the overalls. A smudge of black swooped across his right cheekbone and onto his ear like badly applied war paint. I was pretty sure that if anything, I looked worse than he did. I'd worked on cars with Tad for more than a decade, nearly half his life. He'd left for an Ivy League education but returned without his degree, and without the cheery optimism that had once been his default. What he had retained was that scary competence that he'd had when I first walked into his father's garage looking for a part to fix my Rabbit and found the elementary-aged Tad ably running the shop. He was one of the people I most trusted in the world. And I still lied to him. "Everything's fine," I said. "Liar," growled Zee's voice from under a '68 Beetle. The little car bounced a bit, like a dog responding to its master. Cars do that sometimes around the old iron-kissed fae. Zee said something soft-voiced and calming in German, though I couldn't catch exactly what the words were. When he started talking to me again, he said, "You should not lie to the fae, Mercy. Say instead, 'You are not my friends, I do not trust you with my secrets, so I will not tell you what is wrong.'" Tad grinned at his father's grumble. "You are not my friends, I do not trust you with my secrets, so I will not tell you what is wrong," I said, deadpan. "And that, father of mine," said Tad, grandly setting aside the headlight and starting on one of the bolts that held in the front clip, "is another lie." "I love you both," I told them. "You love me better," said Tad. "Most of the time I love you both," I told him before getting serious. "Something is wrong, but it concerns another person's private issues. If that changes, you'll be the first on my list to talk to." I would not talk about problems with my mate to someone else-it would be a betrayal. Tad leaned over, put an arm around me, and kissed the top of my head, which would have been sweet if it weren't a hundred and six degrees outside. Though the new bays in the garage were cooler than the old ones had been, we were all drenched in sweat and the various fluids that were a part of the life of a VW mechanic. "Yuck," I squawked, batting him away from me. "You are wet and smelly. No kisses. No touches. Ick. Ick." He laughed and went back to work-and so did I. The laugh felt good. I hadn't been doing a lot of laughing lately. "There it is again," said Tad, pointing at me with his ratchet. "That sad face. If you change your mind about talking to someone, I'm here. And if necessary, I can kill someone and put the body where no one will find it." "Drama, drama," grumbled the old fae under the bug. "Always with you children there is drama." "Hey," I said. "Keep that up, and next time I have a horde of zombies to destroy, I won't pick you." He grunted-either at me or at the bug. It was hard to tell with Zee. "No one else could have done what I did," he said after a moment. It sounded arrogant, but the fae can't lie, so Zee thought it was true. I did, too. "It is good that you have me for a friend to call upon when your drama overwhelms your life, Liebling. And if you have a body, I can dispose of it in such a way that there would be nothing left to find." Zee was my very good friend, and useful in all sorts of ways besides hiding dead bodies-which he had done. Unlike Tad, Zee wasn't an official employee of the garage he'd sold to me after teaching me how to work on cars and run the business. That didn't mean he was unpaid, just that he came and went on his own terms. Or when I needed him. Zee was dependable like that. "Hey," said Tad. "Quit chatting, Mercy, and start working. I'm two bolts up on you-and one of those kids just knocked over the garbage can in the office." I'd heard it, too, despite the closed door between the office and us. Additionally, just before the garbage can had fallen, I'd heard the tired and overworked mom try to keep her oldest from reorganizing all of the parts stored (for sale) on the shelving units that lined the walls. Tad might be half fae, but I was a coyote in my other form-my hearing was better than his. Despite the possible destruction going on in the office, it felt good to fix the old car. I didn't know how to fix my marriage. I didn't even know what had gone wrong. "Ready?" asked Tad. I caught the cross member as he pulled the last bolt. A leaking radiator was something I knew how to make right. Before I'd left work, I had showered and changed to clean clothes and shoes. Even so, when I got home, IÕd gone across the back deck to go in the kitchen door because I didnÕt want to risk getting anything from the shop on the new carpet. I'd disemboweled a zombie werewolf on the old carpet, and one of the results of that was that I'd finally discovered a mess that Adam's expert cleaning guru couldn't get out of the white carpet. All of it had been torn up and replaced. Adam had picked it out because I didn't care beyond "anything but white." His choice, a sandy color, was practical and warm. I liked it. We'd had to replace the tile in the kitchen a few months earlier. Slowly but surely the house had been changing from the house that Adam's ex-wife, Christy, had decorated into Adam's and my home. If I'd known how much better I'd feel with new carpet, I'd have hunted down a zombie werewolf to disembowel a long time ago. I toed off my shoes by the door, glanced farther into the kitchen, and paused. It was like walking into the middle of the last scene in a play. I had no idea what was causing all the tension, but I knew I'd interrupted something big. Darryl drew my eye first-the more dominant wolves tend to do that. He leaned against the counter, his big arms crossed over his chest. He kept his eyes on the ground, his mouth a flat line. Our pack's second carried the blood of warriors of two continents. He had to work to look friendly, and he wasn't expending any effort on that right now. Even though he knew I'd come into the house, he didn't look at me. His body held a coiled energy that told me he was ready for a fight. Auriele, his mate, wore an aura of grim triumph-though she was seated at the table on the opposite side of the kitchen from Darryl. Not that she was afraid of him. If Darryl was descended from Chinese and African warlords (and he was-his sister, he'd told me once, had done the family history), Auriele could have been a Mayan warrior goddess. I had once seen the two of them fight as a no-holds-barred team against a volcano god, and it had been breathtaking. I liked and respected Auriele. Auriele's location, which was as far as she could get from Darryl and remain in the kitchen, probably indicated that they were having a disagreement. Interestingly, like Darryl, she didn't look at me, either-though I could feel her attention straining in my direction. The last person in the kitchen was Joel, who was the only pack member besides me who wasn't a werewolf. In his presa Canario form, he sprawled out, as was his habit, and took up most of the free floor space. The strong sunlight streaming through the window brought out the brindle pattern that was usually hidden in the stygian darkness of his coat. His big muzzle rested on his outstretched paws. He glanced at me and then away, without otherwise moving. No. Not away. I followed his gaze and saw that the door to Adam's soundproofed (even to werewolf ears) office was shut. As I turned my attention back to the occupants of the kitchen, my gaze fell on my stepdaughter's purse, which had been abandoned on the counter. "What's up?" I asked, looking at Auriele. Maybe my voice was a little unfriendly, but Jesse's purse, the shut door of Adam's office, Darryl's unhappiness, and Auriele's expression combined to tell me that something had happened. Probably, given the people involved and my insight into a few things going on in Jesse's life, that something had to do with my nemesis, Adam's ex-wife and Jesse's mother, Christy. The bane of my existence had finally returned to Eugene, Oregon, where I'd optimistically thought she might be less of a problem. But Christy had a claim on my husband's protection and a stronger claim on my stepdaughter's affection. She was going to be in my life as long as they were in my life. Christy's strikes on me seldom rated a level above annoyance. She was good at subtle attacks, but I'd grown up with Leah, the Marrok's mate, who had been, if not as intelligent, infinitely more dangerous. I would pay a much higher price than dealing with Christy to keep Adam and Jesse. That didn't mean I was going to be happy about her anytime soon. I might be able to take her on just fine, but she hurt Adam and Jesse on a regular basis. Auriele's chin rose, but it was Darryl who spoke. "My wife opened a letter meant for someone else," he said heavily. "This is your fault," she snapped-and not at Darryl. "Your fault. You have Adam, her place in the pack, the home that she built, and you still won't let Christy have anything." I might like Auriele, but the reverse was not true because Christy had a way of making everyone around her hyperprotective of her. Auriele was a dominant wolf, which meant she started out protective anyway. Christy just put all of Auriele's instincts into overdrive. Still, I couldn't see her opening anyone else's mail because I was Adam's wife instead of Christy. I decided I didn't have enough information to process her accusations. So I asked for clarification. "You opened a letter from Christy? Or for Christy?" "No," said Darryl, staring at his mate. "She opened a letter for Jesse." Auriele glanced at the table, and I noticed, for the first time, that on the table in front of Auriele was a stack of mail. On the top of the stack was a white envelope with Washington State University's distinctive cougar logo-and all the pieces clicked. I pinched my nose. It was a gesture that Bran, the Marrok who ruled all the packs in North America except ours, did so often that it had spread to anyone who associated with him for very long. Since I'd been raised in his pack, it was bound to get to me sooner or later. It didn't help with the frustration, though I felt like it helped me focus. Maybe that was why Bran used it. "Oh, for the love of Pete," I said. "Jesse told me she was going to call her mom a week ago. Let me guess-she put it off until yesterday or this morning. And Christy called you. You came over, found the letter from WSU on the table-" "In the mailbox," said Darryl. I raised my eyebrows, and Auriele's chin elevated a bit more and her shoulders stiffened. Yep, even in her current state of Christy-born madness, she was a little embarrassed about that one. "We got here just as the mail carrier left," she said stiffly. "I thought we could take the mail in." "You found the letter in the mailbox," I corrected myself. "And, given the urgency and trauma that Christy expressed to you about her daughter's change of plans, you had to open it to find proof that dire shenanigans were afoot." Jesse had been accepted to the University of Oregon in Eugene, where her mom lived. She had also been accepted to the University of Washington in Seattle, where Jesse's boyfriend, Gabriel, was attending school. Both were good schools, and she'd let her mother think that she'd been debating about which way to go. Adam and I had both been sure she intended to follow Gabriel-boyfriends outranked parents. I understood why Jesse hadn't wanted to tell her mother-witness the current scene with Auriele. Though putting it off had just been postponing the explosion. But all of Jesse's schooling plans had changed thanks to recent events. Our pack had acquired some new and very dangerous enemies. A week ago Jesse told me she'd decided to stay here and go to Washington State University's Tri-Cities campus. I'd agreed with her reasons. Jesse was a practical person who made generally good choices when her mother wasn't involved. The only advice I'd given Jesse was that she needed to tell Adam and Christy sooner rather than later. "Hah," Auriele said with bitter triumph, pointing at me. "I told you it was Mercy's idea." I opened my mouth to retort, but the door to Adam's office jerked open and Jesse stalked out, her cheeks flushed and her fists clenched. She glanced past me at Auriele and gave her a betrayed look that lasted for a long moment until she rounded the corner and took the stairs at a pace that was not quite a run.

#Mercy Thompson #Mercy Thompson series #adam hauptman #smoke bitten #patricia briggs #urban fantasy #booklr #books #fantasy #book excerpt

55 notes · View notes

bookandcranny · 5 years ago

Text

Stone Heart Gambit

Part 1 - Chapter 1

Soso likes her town, but she’s starting to think she’s never going to find a single interesting thing about it. There’s a supermarket, a park, a few family-owned shops and eateries that haven’t yet succumbed to the pressure put on them by the encroaching chain franchises. Pretty standard small-town fair, not unlike the one she grew up in.

Therein lies the problem. She’d been so excited to leave home for the first time all those semesters ago that she hadn’t considered that change doesn’t always equal improvement, and putting a hundred miles of distance between her and her old problems didn’t guarantee her a perfect new life. She doesn’t particularly miss living with her parents, rather she finds herself feeling homesick for a place she doesn’t think she’s found yet. There’s a restlessness in her-- her mom claims she gets it from her dad, and vice versa. It’s plagued her in small ways all her life, in the way she finds new friendships but struggles to make them last, in the way she throws herself into new passions only to grow bored of them within weeks, in the way college had seemed so thrilling and full of promise when she was a bright-eyed freshman and now here she is, on indefinite academic leave, struggling to remember what it was she saw in the place that was worth a lifetime of student loans.

She only has so long to figure it out too. She wants to finish her degree, she does, but art requires inspiration and there’s only so much to photograph in a town whose main export is cow shit and stale gossip. If she changes her major again at this point her advisor is for real going to mount her head on a pike outside the bursar’s office, so she has to at least try.

It doesn’t help that she’s pretty much limited to the immediate vicinity surrounding her housing co-op until she either manages to get herself a car or the bus drivers union wins their latest standoff with city hall. Cars cost money though, which means getting a real fulltime job, which she expects will spell the end for any lingering chance of her going back to school anyway. The snake devours its tail, and Soso commutes by bike.

Soso’s handy; she’s confident she can fix anything given enough time, the right tools, and a couple reliable video tutorials. That, among other odd jobs, is her main preoccupation right now. It’s something, but she can’t picture herself changing tires and cleaning out gutters for elderly neighbors to support her Chinese takeout dependency forever. At the rate she’s going, her best customers are going to start dying off before she graduates.

On that morbid note, Soso decides she needs to get out of the house. She slings her bag over her back just in case she manages to run into something photo-worthy and grabs her bike. It’s a brisk autumn afternoon and the fresh air is just what she needs.

On the way out she runs into one of her housemates, Carmen the highly caffeinated, returning from campus looking frazzled. Soso isn’t particularly close with any of her housemates, frequently as they tend to come and go, but that doesn’t stop her from offering her sympathies.

“Any luck with the research?”

Carmen groans. “My paper is doomed. Remind me why I thought ‘modern impact of classical mythology’ was a good choice for my level 300 history course?”

“Uh, beats me.” In reality she thinks it sounds like a fun subject, but it doesn’t feel her place to say so given that while Carmen’s been slaving away at the school library, she’s spent the better of her day half-watching questionable documentaries on alien conspiracies.

“Ensfield is full of weird old superstitions and legends,” she goes on frustratedly. “The old bridge makes it on one of those ‘top 10 spooky locations’ lists like once a month. Complain about a cough to the wrong person and suddenly you get people telling you you’re hexed and you need to walk in a circle counter-clockwise under the new moon to get rid of it.”

She’s pretty sure that’s not a thing, but nods anyway, waiting for the point she hopes is coming.

“You’d think the library in a town like this would have better sources on mythology. But no, all I get is a shrug and the same three books everyone else in the class is using. If I want to bump up my GPA, I need something you can’t just find on Wikipedia.”

Another one of their housemates crawls out from the shrubbery by the porch. “Maybe you should try that other library.”

“Jesus!” Carmen jumps. “What are you doing down there?”

Phoebe brushes dirt off her knees. “I saw a black cat go into the gap.” She points at a thin crack in the woodwork. “Halloween is coming. Any cats, especially black ones, you see wandering around need to be brought to the shelter pronto. People do terrible things to them if they see them wandering around this time of year.”

Soso squints. “Looks too small to fit a cat.”

“I saw what I saw. Anyway, there’s supposed to be an old town library way past the woods, thataway.” She points. “Guy who works there is really weird I heard but almost no one goes there anymore so you’d have first pick.”

Carmen looks thoughtful. “I think I’ve heard of it. I kind of thought it was just something people made up.”

“Nah, it’s real. My brother’s fraternity brings freshman there to haze them. They tell them to go up and throw eggs at the place and then ditch ‘em in the woods.”

Soso blinks. “Why?”

She shrugs. “It’s just a thing they do. It sucks and it’s totally immature but no one ever accused those guys of being creative.”

“Whatever,” Carmen says. “I’m done with books for today. I’m gonna go inside and enjoy some nice brain-rotting TV.”

“Good call, honestly. If you get caught hanging around that place too much they’ll probably start egging us next.”

Carmen heads inside and Phoebe goes back to making little coaxing noises at the gap in the porch. Soso frowns to herself. Sometimes she feels like people in this town purposely go out of their way to ruin anything that could be the slightest bit different. It’s probably just a normal library that happened to be in a weird spot, run by a typical cranky old librarian. Even if it is nothing it probably has more to offer than spending the rest of her day throwing french-fries to birds and squirrels in the Burger Beast parking lot.

“Hey Phoebe,” she says. “Where did you say that library was?”

The trip is longer than she had anticipated. Her legs are strong but the sun’s getting low enough that she worries she’ll be riding home in the dark. A generous part of it she blames on Phoebe’s vague directions, scribbled into a patchwork paper map of hear-say more than anything else. Despite this she continues. She’s snapped a few pictures of the foliage in its brilliant reds and golds, so if all else is a bust at least she won’t have completely wasted her time. Worst case scenario, she returns home with a little extra muscle on her calves from all the pedaling.

Well, the real worst case scenario is probably more along the lines of her getting caught by an axe murderer and left to rot in the spooky woods, another ghost for the local repertoire. Even then, at least she won’t have to worry about the next family phone call if she’s dead.

Grim musings aside, she loops back and manages to find the correct path, a trampled dirt road half-hidden under the leaf litter, and at last make her way to the fabled “other library”. It’s one of those old brick buildings, surrounded by a low fence that struggles to hold its own against the climbing vines and insects nibbling at its posts. It’s early enough in the season that their collective buzz-chirp-hum still fills the air, though otherwise it is almost eerily quiet. It’s strangely peaceful, Soso thinks as she wades through wild patches of tall grass, as if she were returning to somewhere familiar.

The place is clearly abandoned, she decides, sunlight refracting off the firmly shuttered windows. It’s a cool discovery to be sure, but she ought to have known a mysterious library in the woods with an equally mysterious shut-in tending it was too much to expect from a town like Ensfield. That doesn’t stop her from exploring though. She likes it here, and she especially likes the gorgeous, ancient-looking gargoyle that sits in front of the steps leading up to the entrance, like one of those stone lions that stand guard outside of libraries of greater fame than this one.

The thing is magnificent, as well as truly hideous, its face twisted in a snarl so visceral and strikingly lifelike that it sends a genuine chill down her spine. The attention to detail, to carving out each individual wrinkle of flesh, is astounding. The stance the stone creature is frozen in comes off much more threatening than the regal intensity she might have expected, and it seems to her a counterintuitive choice of décor, but one the artist in her wholeheartedly approves of.

Propping her bike up against the stairs she crouches in the shadow of the gargoyle to get a better look. Organic shapes like vines encircle the beast, so lifelike that feels compelled to touch, as if they might fall away under her fingertips. Just as she reaches out however, the front doors of the library swing open and a stout, middle-aged man rushes out.

“Don’t- who- don’t touch that! It’s- it’s not-“ he stammers. “It’s an antique. Very breakable.”

The man is well-dressed, but his head of yellow hair is mussed to one side, like he’s just woken from a nap, enforced by the wrinkles he anxiously tries to smooth out of his vest. His eyes are a shocking shade of spring green.

“Sorry?” Soso offers, still recovering from the fright. She pulls her hand back guiltily and he seems to relax. How fragile could something made of stone be, she wonders, that he would work himself up into such a state over it. “Uh, is this the library?”

The man finishes straightening himself out before he responds. “That’s what you’re here for? Books?”

“What else?” she asks. His eyes remain narrow with scrutiny, so she adds, “Books on mythology. It’s for a school project. I heard… I am in the right place, right?”

There’s a copper plaque by the door that reads “North Ensfield Public Library”, but at this point she’d be as willing to accept that she wandered into a random person’s front yard, for how he looks at her. After another awkward pause, the man turns back towards the entrance and gestures for her to follow.

“Sorry about that. I don’t see many regular patrons anymore, not for a while now. Pardon the mess.” He speaks quickly, not leaving any room for interruption.

There isn’t much mess to pardon, not really. In fact, the shelves look well organized, if a bit dusty, and the space isn’t as cramped or cluttered as she had expected from the outside. A certain saying about books and covers comes to mind, but she doesn’t think her host would appreciate the joke. It’s no wonder he doesn’t see many people if he acts this way with everyone. Soso bumps into a table and nearly upsets what seems to be a pyramid assembled from various glasses, topped with an upside-down teapot.

“Do you live here?” she asks before she can curtail her curiosity.

“I’m a librarian,” he answers. “This is a library.”

“Right, but that doesn’t…” she fumbles.

“Do Canadians not live in Canada? Do Norwegians not live in Norway?”

“Vegetarians don’t live in vegetables,” she counters.

He considers that. “Well-played.”

Soso laughs despite herself and, to her surprise, things seem to go more smoothly after that. She continues speaking with the librarian and learns that his name is Surehouser, though if there’s a first name attached to that one, she doesn’t catch it. He’s certainly as eccentric as the rumors had led her to believe, but he seems harmless, and quite frankly more than a little lonesome. She doesn’t know how a person could be anything else, living like this.

He’s not friendly or unfriendly; his words have a measured quality to them, as if he’s afraid of saying too much. Soso gets the impression, as the sole carer for this seemingly ancient place, his occupation is more out of a sense of obligation than a passion for literature. He looks the part of the academic for sure, down to the silver that threads through his hair and the half-moon reading glasses folded in the front of his shirt, but his eyes track her as she browses like he doesn’t know what to do with someone who actually wants to check out a book.

“Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?” he asks after she’s been at it for a while.

She doesn’t want to admit that not only is she not sure, since it’s not really her class she needs it for, but that whatever organizational system is in place here is totally incomprehensible to her. “Anything you have should be good.”

Which is how she ends up checking out way more than she meant to, sending up a tiny prayer that her comparatively tiny backpack can rise to the occasion. Surehouser gives her a look like he knows what’s going through her head as he leads her to the front desk. There’s no computer in sight, just a leatherbound book of names and dates and a thick rubber stamp.

“On my way out, would you mind if I took some pictures of that statue you have out front? For my project.” She adds that last part as an afterthought, then regrets it right away. She’s a notoriously terrible liar and the more she enforces the threads of this pointless story she’s weaving, the more awkward she feels.

He frowns and says, more to himself than to her, “I always thought that old thing was a bit gaudy myself. I’d have gotten rid of it ages ago if I could.”

Something about the way he says it strikes her as strange. Not knowing how to respond, she simply says, “I don’t know, I think it’s cool.”

He laughs. Or, she thinks that’s what it is. The sound is gentle but rusty at the edges. “I suppose you would. Feel free to do whatever you want, only do not touch it, and be careful.”

She walks down the stone steps, her haul unexpectedly light on her back, and pauses to look at the gargoyle once more. The light isn’t any good right now, but she’ll be back.

“See you later,” she tells it.

Sure enough, the next day she’s back. She hadn’t actually planned to be such a regular, but she’d been unable to keep the place from her mind, and it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do. Carmen had looked about to cry when Soso showed her the books she’d picked out. The ones she didn’t need for her paper, Soso decided to flip through herself and had found herself more invested than she’d counted on. The book on obscure pagan deities she’d selected, though dense and confusing in places, was particularly interesting. Before she knew it, she was finished, and thus had the perfect excuse to go back.

“This guy kinda looks like you, don’t you think?” She holds the page open so that the gargoyle could “see” it. Despite arriving at noon on a Wednesday, the library seems to be truly closed today and no amount of knocking had managed to change its mind. Since she’d already come all this way, she figured she might as well find some other way to entertain herself before heading home.

“The horns are all wrong, but the general look is there. He could be, like, your second cousin,” she tells the statue.

The statue doesn’t respond, obviously, but Soso likes talking to it regardless. She adjusts her position so she can keep reading while keeping the book within its line of sight. When it’s time to leave, she turns to it and says,

“Keep an eye on that guy who runs the place for me. He’s weird, and should really keep more regular hours, but he’s nice, and I think being alone out here is making him a little…” She makes a spiraling motion with her finger. “Guess I’m not one to talk though. I’m chatting with a hunk of rock.”

She doesn’t stop though. Maybe it’s the boredom, maybe it’s something just fundamentally Soso, but whatever the reason, she keeps coming back. Partially for the library, yes, and for the company of the strange librarian that dwells within, but primarily to have a quiet place to vent her frustrations and speak her mind, where often the only one around to judge is one who’s incapable of talking back.

Surehouser is an acquired taste, and they don’t have much in common, but he never turns Soso away on the days when her visits magically coincide with the hours of operation. He always seems to have snacks on hand and is content to let the young woman ramble on about whatever latest subject has caught her interest, which as much as she could ask of anyone really. He still speaks frustratingly little of himself, but she believes she’ll get it out of him eventually.

She’s moved from taking pictures around the library to breaking out her old sketchbook, sitting on the steps and muttering to the empty air as she tries to map the contours of the stone body before her. She’s always been visually minded, for whatever good it does her.

“My mom keeps calling and asking if I want to come home for the holidays,” she complains, holding her knees to her chest. “And I know that’s months away but if I say yes that means having to see my family in person while they interrogate me about my future. I’m not even sure I have a future.”

She paces around for a minute to work out some pins and needles and brushes back her hair where it’s been falling in her face. Feeling playful, she imagines she can feel the gargoyle’s gaze watching her.

“Oh this? Yeah, I did get a haircut, thank you for noticing. Just a couple inches off the bottom but I think it’s nice.”

She tosses her head. Nestled among her dark hair, a tip of pointed ear pokes out and she worries idly at the cartilage like she used to do when she was younger.

“You noticed that too, huh. I was born with this itty bity point to my ears. They used to stick out when I was a kid. I was kinda self-conscious about it, actually. I dreaded whenever we had a course in school about fairytales because the kids in my class would call me an elf. I started making my mom do my hair so that they were hidden and just, never grew out of the habit I guess.”

The gargoyle is without comment. She smiles.

“I knew you’d understand, dude. Us freaks have to stick together.”

The following week is a flurry of last-minute Halloween preparations. Soso herself hadn’t been planning to dress up, not having anywhere to be other than planted firmly on the couch in front of a horror B-movie marathon, but the other girls insist they decorate, as there’d been whispers in their neighborhood of pranks planned on those deemed not festive enough. According to Carmen, who had become the resident expert on local tradition since she aced her last history test, the custom of shunning those who didn’t partake was almost as firmly rooted as the decorating itself. It stemmed from a belief from ye olden days that the festivities helped to fend off ghosts and goblins and the meddling of the fae on the day when the border between their worlds was the thinnest.

“Wait, do ghosts come from the same place as fae, or do they just, like, carpool here?”

She snorts. “It depends who you ask, but a lot of people around here believe that anything that’s magical or ‘otherworldly’ in origin is technically ‘fae’. Ensfield has a whole history of convoluted fae-based superstitions. Did you know some people still leave out bowls of fresh milk for house spirits?”

“House spirits?”

“Like, brownies.”

Soso nods. “I love having milk with brownies.”

Phoebe pipes up from the kitchen. “I had a girlfriend in high school who left out offerings when she was doing her SATs.”

“Did it help?” Carmen asks. “I’ll try anything.”

Soso is no skeptic, but she’s more inclined to believe that leaving food out overnight will attract more mice than faerie blessings. The sentiment is nice, but it’s hard for her to take comfort in fairytales without remembering her childhood teasing. How much worse could it have been if it had been more than just a joke, if her ears and her daydreaming demeanor were enough to get her labeled as an outsider for life, rather than just for the span of third grade.

“Are you doing anything special for Halloween, Soso?” Carmen asks.

“You mean like leaving out bowls of milk?”

She laughs. “No, like going to a party. You can come with me to Katy’s if you want. It’ll be lowkey.”

Carmen has been making more of an effort to get to know her since she got her those books for her paper, but while Soso appreciates the thought, being a plus-one at a stranger’s party where everyone knows each other from the classes she’s still not attending doesn’t sound like her idea of a good time.

“No thanks. Someone’s gotta stay and hand out candy to the trick or treaters, right?”

“Good point. Did you pick up candy?”

“Not yet, but I’ll do it.”

“Just don’t put it off until the night of.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

That is exactly what happened. October 31st finds Soso standing in line with a back of candy under each arm. Their neighborhood isn’t exactly kid-heavy, but better safe than TP’d she figures. She’s nearing the register when a pair of college-age boys stumble in, looking conspicuously red around the whites of their eyes. She sighs inwardly as they wander around, talking just a bit too loud for comfort, and does her best to ignore them even as they get in line behind her. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she notices that there is nothing in their baskets except a two-liter bottle of off-brand soda, a box of marshmallow snackcakes, and about four cartons of eggs, each.

It almost doesn’t click for her until she remembers what Phoebe said about the frat bros and their hazing. That paired with it being a night notorious for pranks by idiot teens is enough to get her nervous. After making her purchase she lingers outside the store for a moment and watches as the boys climb into a car and drive away in the direction of the woods.

It might still be a coincidence, they might be heading to some other destination that just so happens to be in that direction as well, but the image of some stupid stoners invading her sanctuary makes her hackles raise all the same. She starts pedaling after them, following just far enough behind so as not to be spotted in the swiftly fading light.

#fantasy #writeblr #original fiction #my writing #project: stone heart gambit

5 notes · View notes