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achliegh · 3 years ago

Text

Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 14:

Holiday Playlist

Sold (Dance)

Leo was freezing, shivering in the car with the heated seat under his ass and heat blowing on him. He changed his pants from the ice soaked ones earlier and his ankles were sore from his skates but he was happy. He made a good impression on Logan’s sisters, his mom texted him to let him know the sale went through, and he watched Clay face plant on the ice.

All was well in the world.

He was smiling to himself as he leaned back into the heat of the seat with his arms hugging himself, teeth only chattering a little bit. He is listening to Logan chat with his sisters in the back in fairly fast French-Canadian French, he knows Finn is confused. But Leo is listening to him tap on the steering wheel to whatever song was playing in his head. The radio is off because Leo doesn’t want to overwhelm Finn with too much noise in a small confined place. He would be miserable the rest of the night.

They pull up to Pascal's house and the Trembly siblings are the first out of the vehicle, leaving Leo and Finn in the dust. Finn kisses Leo’s temple after shutting off the car.

“Ready?” Leo smiles and nods, he is honestly a little tired but he’s excited to get a little drunk and just relax with the team plus the team’s families.

Leo grabs onto the handle to push open the door when it is suddenly flung open and he topples out face first first into the ground. Hearing someone gasp from above him he rolls over to his back and blinks a few times.

“I think… I broke my teeth again.” Leo runs his tongue over his two front teeth and feels the chip in his tooth is suddenly much larger, but still less than half his tooth so he doesn’t really care.He has broken his teeth way worse before. Ma will get a kick out of it. “That's fun.”

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Aubry is helping him sit up and is grabbing his still dazed face and looking it over to make sure he’s okay. She looks over to her left and sees Logan looking at her and she can feel the anger rolling off of him. His arms are crossed and his hands are gripping his arms, Sydney takes one look at Logan and steps back a couple of feet.

“Can you let go of my face?” Leo mumbles, causing her to look back at him and smile a little at his squished cheeks. “Also I break my teeth all the time, 90% of my front two teeth are fake so…” He shrugs and smiles at her. She lets go of his face and Finn helps Leo up.

“Again I’m sorry Leo!”

“I feel like I look like Jason Derulo after he tried eating corn off the cob with a power drill.” He laughs at himself as he looks in the side mirror of the car. Rolling his bottom jaw a bit, popping his neck from side to side, then rolling his shoulders. He notices a scrape on his chin and his cheek. “Not gonna lie, I kinda look rugged.”

“Let’s go inside, get you a drink and an ice pack, yeah?” Logan takes his hand and smiles up at him, taking note of his scrapes and his chipped tooth when he smiles back.

“Yes please!” They all make their way inside to find families just chatting on the couches in the living room, people drinking wine and eating little horderves that Celeste and Adele put together. Leo is led to the kitchen where the two chefs were.

“Oh Leo, did you fall on the ice after we left?” Celeste looks at him as she hands him an ice pack wrapped in a paper towel.

“Non, Aubry opened my door with me attached to it and I landed face first on the concrete. Broke my teeth some more but.” He shrugs and his nose scrunches as Logan dabs at his scrapes with a wet paper towel. “Okay! Okay! I’m Okay! OW!” Logan sighs at Leo’s dramatics and goes to throw the paper towel away.

“So you’re the man with the terrible singing.” Adele looks up at Leo from where she is cutting pinwheels. “I wondered if you were ever going to appear.”

“You don’t like my singing?” Leo smiles at her and she smiles back. “Wait, when have you heard my singing?” He absentmindedly starts helping her put pickles on sticks. He remembers catching a glance of her the first time he visited Pascals’ but he doesn’t remember singing when she was around.

“When Logan was really sad after Louisiana, he would only fall asleep to these videos of you singing in front of a fire pit. It was really annoying for a while.” Leo is silent for a moment, Adele looks up at him and notices how he is trying to keep his face blank but the frown lines are still ghosting. “He is better than ever now that you are with him and Finn though, he blabs about you two all the time.” That makes him smile a bit.

“No! Alex! Let go!” Leo and Adele turn around to see an older version of Finn keeping Logan in a headlock. Leo hides his smile by sucking in his lips and holding them between his teeth. “Ah!” Logan is suddenly on the ground with Alex laughing from above him, asshole kicked his feet out from under him. Glaring Logan takes his hand and gets helped up. “Jerk.”

“Hey! You can’t be mean to me or I’ll tell Finn.”

“He would be on my side!”

“He would laugh at you and give me a high five and you know it.” Logan thinks for a moment and then signs knowing Alex is right.

“Why do my boyfriend's siblings bully me?”

“Because we are family, shortstack.” Alex gets punched in the stomach for that nickname everytime. Yet he still calls Logan that any time he gets the chance. After a moment of catching his breath, Alex looks up to see Logan’s face buried into another man’s chest. He was tall and had a couple scrapes on his face but he looked young. Maybe in his early twenties. His hair was barely sticking out from under his.. Cowboy hat… he was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt… with cowboy boots. Who was this guy!? Does Finn know about him and Logan?

“Leooooo, I got some people I want you to meeeet!” Finn walks into the kitchen with his mother and Father trailing behind and bumps into Alex who is just staring at Leo like he's a ghost. “I promise he doesn’t always dress like that.” Taking a few steps towards his boys he gives Adele a fist bump and then leans his head on Leo’s shoulder. “Mom, Dad, this is Leo. The cowboy I have been talking about for…. A good year now. He is Logan and I’s boyfriend.” He smiles.

Leo feels his heart pick up a bit as the nerves of meeting parents that have authority makes him feel like he shouldn’t be there. He shakes the fathers hand after Logan goes to help Adele take out more tiny foods. He goes to shake Finn’s mother’s hand but is pulled into an aggressively tight hug that reminds him of his Mama’s hugs. He smiles and hugs her back. Already starting to feel at ease.

“I’m Alex.” Alex pats Leo on the shoulder.

“Leo, Finn talks a lot about you. He has your pictures up all around the apartment. I was convinced you two were twins for a while.” Leo smiles and continues to relax as Alex bursts out laughing.

“I’m not surprised, when we were younger people swore we were twins, and I think Finn would let people believe it when he was in elementary.” Alex ruffles Finn’s hair.

“So, Finn tells us you’re a Professional Bullrider. Correct?” Finn's dad looks to have the exact same face as his boys, same eyes as well. But he is much more tan and doesn’t have a single freckle that Leo can see, his hair is dark brown and curly, his eyebrows were so thick that Eliose would have the time of her life shaping them, his nose is also quite large and protrudes from his face with a little crook in the bridge making him subtly look like a bird.

“Yes, I do ride professionally. I actually leave in a couple of months to go travel the country to do it all again. My best friend Clayton ropes calves as well and my Mother was crowned Miss Rodeo when she was younger. So, it’s interesting when Finn tries to talk about rodeo stuff with us and he just has no idea. He’s getting better though.”

“I always had a dream of riding bulls or just being a cowboy in general but I’m from upstate New York! Not many cowboys there.” He laughs in the loud way most older fathers do and pats him on the shoulder just like Alex did. His smile was large and inviting, it reminded him of Finn.

“Country is Country wide, Sir. I have rode with people from New Hampshire and Massechusets. If you want I could teach you some things! I do train children in the two weeks before I leave to compete.”

“Don’t give him any ideas, he may be young at heart but his body is becoming old and crepid.” Finn’s parents share a kiss and it gives Leo’s heart a small painful yank. He can’t help but wonder if his parents would look that happy if his dad was still alive. He takes a sip of the Jack and Coke that Finn made him and swallows it along with his own self pity.

Now is not the time to mope.

He chats with Finn’s family some more until the doorbell rings. That would be his mother.

“Hello, who are you?” Pascal is looking directly into the sharp blue eyes of a woman who is either the same height as him… or taller. SHe is holding two milk crates, both filled with jars full of clear liquid. Odd. She is dressed in a tight red long sleeve shirt with a pair of dark wash jeans that flare at the bottom with matching red boots poking out from the jeans. Something flashes light into his eye and he notices the giant buckle on her belt.

“Oh excuse my manners! I’m Eloise Knut! My son Leo should be behaving here. This is Pascal’s house, yes?” She smiles and her teeth are so blindingly bright that Pascal has to look away.

“Oh yes of course come in.” He opens the door all the way and she struts in. Clayton was the first person to run up to her, Marc is on his back laughing loudly as they were just pretending Clay was a horse.

“Ma! It’s about time you show up! I’ll take this.” Clay has Marc hop off his back and takes the crates from Eloise, walking away lifting them over all the peoples heads who are sitting down or children.

“Ma! I want you to meet my brother. Sirius, this is Eloise. Eloise, this is Sirius.” Reg is looking between them with this excited glint in his eye, his two favorite adult figures in his life are meeting.

“Ravi de vous rencontrer.” Sirius shakes her hand and kisses her hand. Eloise smiles and pats his cheek.

“Si gentil de ta part.” Sirius smiles, cheeks turning a bit pink as she pinches them a bit. “You are just adorable! You and your brother have the most beautiful hair. I would love to just sit down and play with it all day.”

“Mama, stop hitting on Reg’s brother. Hit on his boyfriend instead.” Remus laughs from his spot next to Leo as they walk up with plates piled high with food. Leo’s vegetarian, Remus’ not. “I mean look at him, he is exactly your type! Short brownish hair, giant brown eyes, probably a bottom- Hey!” Remus swats at his plate of food to try and knock it over, making Leo barely have time to balance it out again.

“Leo, you’re gay. I thought you would have been better at seeing who is top, bottom, or a switch in relationships. It’s pretty obvious if you ask me.” Eloise smiles at Remus. “Since you have your hands full I will just give you a wave, Deary.” She waves at him. “I’m Eloise, Leo’s mother. I hope you haven’t heard anything bad about me, Leo likes to tell stories of when I was younger.”

“I can’t help it Mama, you were just so interesting!” Leo speaks with his mouth full and Reg, Remus and Elosie all give him a look.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full!” They all manage to say at the same time, catching Leo off guard. He laughs and swallows the food in his mouth.

“There are so many mothers around me. I’m going to see who Clay has rounded up to try the shine.” He stands up and leaves his plate on the little table in the middle of them, Reg grabs a few pieces of his food and eats them as he listens to Sirius and Remus talk about how they will be celebrating the holidays.

“I’ll go with you, I should probably meet the rest of the boys.” Eloise follows him into the kitchen to find Clay behind the kitchen island with two jars of moonshine in front of him, explaining to the team what it is. Leo walks over beside him and takes the lid off one and smells it.

“I think this one is watermelon.”

“Thanks for interrupting me. Anyway, moonshine is technically illegal because… honestly I don’t remember but we have been drinking it since we were like 13 I think.” Eloise walks up behind the two, reaching over them to grab the other jar, Clay and Leo move out of the way to let her in the middle.

“You two make me look like a terrible person, you know that? Letting my child drink moonshine at 13. I could get arrested.” She is examining the jar as the boys back track their statements about drinking so young even when they are still under the drinking age. She has a little half smile on her face when she looks through the clear liquid straight into a set of eyes that are staring right back.

Dark hazel eyes surrounded by the longest eyelashes she has ever seen. Dark smooth skin wrinkling around the eyes as this person smiles. Her mouth was very dry all the sudden, her stomach had a pit in it as well.

“Leo why don’t you let me have that, Y’all can keep all the rest.” She puts the jar she is holding down and takes the open one from Leo who was about to take a sip. She leaves the kitchen without another word. Clay and Leo share a confused look as they watch her leave.

Timmy follows a few minutes later.

The music played in the house after all these kids left to go spend the night at other houses, leaving the Dumias house open for adult activities like swearing. Leo, Reg and Clay had all moved the furniture around, with permission from Dumo and Celeste. There was just enough room for people to dance.

No one was really drunk persay but a couple swings of moonshine definitely got people tipsy. Elosie was talking with Ollie, Andrew, and Timmy. Who leo was keeping an extra close eye on, because he just felt like he should. He knows a lot of people find his mother attractive, that's why Eloise always wore her ring, to get people to back off, but she was almost… flirting back with Timmy.

It made Leo feel weird. Clay too.

Leo was staring at Eloise and Timmy when Sold (Grundy County Auction) came on over the bluetooth. He hears a gasp from behind him and sees Remus trying to get Sirius to dance with him.

“Re, I don’t know the dance.”

“It’s easy I promise!” Sirius gives his boyfriend a look and Remus sighs, giving up on trying to yank Sirius up off his chair . Leo walks over because he would also like to dance but his mom is flirting, Reg gets dizzy, his boys don’t know the dance, and Clay is laying across Thomas and Noelle on the couch a bit too drunk to really do anything but smile at them and twist Noelles hair around his finger.

“I know it, and all my dance partners are busy if you’d like to dance.” He smiles and nods his head when Sirius mouths ‘thank you’ in his direction. Remus hesitates for a moment.

“I only know how to follow really.”

“And you wanted me to dance!” Sirius tsks sarcastically and shakes his head leaning back in his chair so the two front legs were off the ground. Making sure there was something soft behind him, Re puts his foot under one of the chair legs and lifts up so Sirius falls backwards onto the pile of blankets that were thrown off the couch. “Re!”

“Well, I only know how to lead so that works out perfectly.” Leo takes Remus’ hand and leads him towards the group of dancing people on the wood floor of the living room. “Think there is enough space?”

“I think so, here.” Remus grabs his hands and they swing in a circle so people give them room. Leo just about trips over his own feet. Remus catches him while laughing, putting a hand on Leo’s shoulder and holding his other while Leo rests his free hand on Remus’ waist.

Spinning each other they are lost in the dance, not noticing the two or three people filming them. Sirius is just watching Remus move so smoothly, without a care in the world. His hair was long enough it swished with him, his laugh was loud and sweet. He didn't know how he didn’t get dizzy from dancing.

Finn was also watching them dance, as well as Logan. Finn was just enjoying his friend and Boyfriend dancing, Logan was too but a bit more… possessive. They all trust one another but Logan can’t help the little voice in the back of his head telling him to make sure Re knows Leo is theirs.

They finish the dance and just straight up sit on the floor to catch their breath, laughing a bit as people return to the dance floor. Eloise walks over to them and holds out a hand to each to help them up.

“Last Song! I want to go to bed!” Dumo announces as he turns the music down for a moment, he turns it back up before people can complain. Celeste was starting to put food away in to go containers and in tupperware to go in the fridge. Dumo walks over to help her but gets distracted when he hears someone drop a glass. He sighs and goes to help them, James, clean up.

“I am going to stay and help Celeste tonight and tomorrow morning. I will see you at the apartment and then we can go out for lunch.” Eloise smiles as Leo nods and lets her kiss his cheek. Leo and Remus make their way back over to their lovers.

“You were amazing!” Sirius hugs Remus, lifting him off the ground and smooching all over his slightly red face. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“My dad and mom used to go to swing classes when I was younger and my dad would always secretly practice with me so he could wow my mom.” He smiles, pushing Sirius’ hair out of his face and sighing happily. “Let’s go home, I’m tired.” Sirius and Reg follow Re out of the house a few minutes later, waving goodbye to the team.

The drive home in the uber was interesting, Leo and Logan were both sliding their hands up Finn’s thighs making his tispy brain only think about one thing. He watched those two whisper to each other before they left the house, Finn didn’t pay much attention, busy watching for the uber to pull up.

Once they enter the house Finn finds himself pinned against the door as soon as it is closed, Leo is kissing and nipping at his neck while Logan is reaching his hands under Finn’s shirt as he kisses him with maybe too much tongue. Finn lets himself be dragged into the feeling of their hands and lips on him.

“Tonight is all about you, sweetheart.” Leo whispers in his ear, Logan pulls away and tugs on Finn’s shirt towards the bedroom. Leo pats his butt to get him moving and follows the other two, stripping off his many layers and stretching his jaw a bit from his fall earlier.

“Hi, how are you?” Finn is pulled on top of Logan who has lost his clothes sometime in between the door of the room and the bed. He was beautiful; basically glowing from the yellow light of the lamp near the bed. Shadows and light contrasting on his tan skin make him look like a work of art. He can’t help but run his fingertips lightly over Logan’s chest and stomach. Smiling as the muscles move under his fingers, he feels a hand on his hand and two hands cupping his face making him look back up at Logan.

“I love you.” Logan pulls him down for a kiss as Finn feels Leo’s rough hands slide his shirt up, he pulls away just long enough to take his shirt off and then dives right back in for more kisses. Logan is very addictive, he lets Finn take over the kiss when he wants and other times he will take over the kiss just to annoy Finn into fucking him. Logan is giggling slightly as they kiss just because all this happiness is bubbling in his chest.

“I love you too, Lo.” He mumbles on Logan’s lips, feeling the bed dip behind him, Finn pulls away from Logan. Only after he is pulled into one last heated kiss that he can barely pull away from. Sitting up on his knees he turns his head to the side and has his lips met with another set of lips he loves.

Leo is almost always soft, besides his calloused hands, his skin is just perfect and makes Finn want to touch him always. He lightly nips at Leo’s lips, drawing a smile from the younger man. They pull away after a moment and Leo wraps his arms fully around Finn’s bare waist, resting his chin on Finn’s shoulder, humming a bit.

“I want to eat you out, is that okay? I mean your ass is so pale it looks like two marshmallows.” Logan snorts at Leo’s comment and flexes his legs from where they are resting on either side of Finn’s thighs, squishing Finn between them. Finn thinks about it for a moment, running his hand up and down Logan’s calf while Leo's hands run all over his torso.

“I don't know. Are you sure you want to? I mean, I just don’t want to find out I’m dirty or something… I also like never shave so… I don’t know.” He absent mindedly twirls a couple of Logan’s leg hairs together between his forefinger and thumb. Trying to ignore the feeling of an embarrassed blush that is creeping from his ears to his chest.

“Finn, you have eaten both of us out. Did you ever care if we were perfectly smooth or whatever else you are worried about?” Logan sits up, Looking him in the eyes. “We want to make you feel good, but if you don’t want to, that's okay too.” After a couple minutes of the three of them just existing together on the bed Finn starts nodding his head.

“Yeah, I want to try it. I think maybe once I get past feeling all jittery I will like it.” He kisses Leo and smiles at Logan. “I want to feel good like how I make you two feel.” He pushes Logan back onto his back and leans over him.

Leo helps Finn out of his shorts and, “Are these… my boxers?” Laughing as Finn nods, Leo also helps him slide off his boxers with fish on them. “You know Fish is a good nickname for you.” Leo starts kissing down his back.

“You named a fish after us and now you are naming me after a fish?” Finn starts to snicker but is cut off by the feeling of Leo licking over his entrance. His brows pinches together, his eyes close and he feels himself turn bright red.

“Hey” Logan kisses his cheek and nudges his cheek a bit with his nose, “Kiss me.” Finn doesn’t waste a second moving to have one hand holding him up by Logan's head and the other is gripping the back of his head with his fingers threaded into the long hair on Logan's neck. “Leo, you’re making him so red.” Logan mumbles on Finn’s lips.

Finn is losing himself in the feeling of Leo slowly opening himself up with his tongue, he knew this made his boys feel good but he didn’t expect it to make his legs shake. He has lost the ability to kiss Logan back because he is breathing so hard, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Every once in a while Finn feels Logan twitch and move under him.

Leo starts using his fingers alongside his tongue, Finn can’t help but rotate his hips in circles as the pleasure keeps flowing through his body. He feels like a soda bottle that hasn’t been opened, but has been shook. Everything was bubbling up and he felt like he was about to explode.

Leo pulls away when he feels Finn is ready. Looking at his boys, they both look blissed out. Leo notices one of Logan’s hands isn’t in sight, Finn is a complete mess. His hair is wild, his face is red, he is panting and looking more out of it than Leo has ever seen him.

“What do you want next?” Leo kisses up his back, nuzzling into the back of his neck and breathing in the smell that is strictly Finn.

“Leo, fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I get fucked too?” Logan is staring into Leo’s eyes with his pupils basically taking over his green eyes. Leo nods and leans over Finn’s shoulder to give Logan a quick kiss. Sitting back up, Finn follows his lead and sits up a few moments later. He gets handed the lube from where it is sitting next to Logan and covers his fingers. Logan grabs his hand and shakes his head.

“I already did it.” He smiles shyly at Finn who just blinks a few times.

“Loooogannnn! You know that’s like my favorite part!” Finn is pouting as he uses the lube on his hand to cover his cock. He is still mumbling his complaints as he starts to press in. He is already feeling everything more than normal, so his jaw goes slack and he pauses halfway. “Fucking Christ.” He leans down and presses his forehead to Logan’s as he pushes the rest of the way in. Their heavy breathing syncs up until Finn starts to pull out and push back in, just barely moving.

Leo is watching the whole thing, giving himself a few strokes to ease some pressure. He whispers the question to Finn who slows his thrusts to a stop. Leo slowly starts to press in and feels Finn suddenly tense up, Leo pauses and Finn lets out a noise that he knows like the back of his hand.

Finn just came. Logan moans loudly at the feeling of Finn cuming in him.

“Fuck! Finn~” Leo sees Logans hands grip Finn’s bareback digging his nails in.

“Leo- Please keep going.” Leo takes a deep breath to calm himself from just going to town on Finn. He pulls out and groans as Finn clenches around him. He presses his forehead to Finn’s sweaty back and listens to his plea to go deeper.

“Leo!” Logan calls out to him as his eyes start to roll back and his back arches, following Finn’s example from earlier and cumming between the two of them. Leo continues to fuck them as they moan his name, each others names, and grip one another as if they would lose them if they didn’t.

After finding the perfect rhythm, they all fall into a void of pleasure. Their bodies moving on their own, their voices becoming hoarse from moaning, lips raw from stolen kisses. Everything was perfectly balanced.

Logan suddenly breaks the atmosphere by falling off the edge again. He jerks himself through his orgasm and loses his voice as his vocal cords become taunt. Once the fog in his head dissipates he looks up at his boys.

“Can I watch you two?” The raspiness of his own voice catches him off guard, he clears his throat before Leo pulls out of Finn and Finn pulls out of Logan. Leo is holding Finn up as he has slumped back into Leo’s chest. They rearrange, Logan is laying on his side next to Finn who is lying on his back. Leo is between Finn’s legs and moves them so one is wrapped around his hip and the other is out to the side. With Logan wanting to still do something, he holds the leg that is out to the side and sits up to watch as Leo pushes back into Finn. His eyes wanted to watch where they met and Finn’s face at the same time.

Logan knows that Leo’s eyes when he is fucking is one of the most intense things he has ever seen, Finn tries to look Leo in the eyes but ends up turning his head to meet Logan’s.

Logan's eyes are soft and blown out, beautiful green, calming yet wild. Logan is just a walking oxymoron. He was everything. Finn looks back at Leo who is watching them look at each other. He hits Finn’s prostate just right and Finn cums again as he cups Leo’s face and stares into his eyes.

Leo swallows as he starts to slow down. Finn is still looking into his eyes, Leo kisses him passionately. Teeth and tongue are the main part of the kiss. Finn wraps his arms around Leo’s neck and his legs around his waist, pulling Leo in deeper to him. Leo gets the hint and keeps fucking him.

Finn holds on for dear life as he is fucked into the mattress. He is sensitive from earlier so it doesn’t take long to get him over the edge again. Leo is just about to cum when he pulls out as Finn’s limbs flop to the sides of him, hitting Logan on accident, Leo pulls out. Remembering that Finn doesn’t like the feeling of cum in him. So he jerks himself a few times before he cums all over Finn’s chest and stomach. Mixing with his own mess.

Logan being the impatient boy he is… Fully shoves Leo out of the way, placing two hands on his chest and shoving Leo out of the way. Not meaning to fully knock him off the bed but he does. Logan is between Finn’s legs and licks up his stomach and chest, right through the mess. Taking Finn by surprise he shoves his tongue down his throat.

Leo stands up, watching them making out with the mess and feeling himself start to get turned on again. They pull away and look at him, the softest and sleepiest smiles on their faces.

He loves them.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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crosbymalkin871 · 4 years ago

Text

The Price of Love (1/?)

CHAPTER TITLE: All It Takes is One Huge Paycheck…

RATING: M PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: E. Malkin/S. Crosby

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINK: Alcohol, Foul Language, mentions of Prostitution, Mario Lemieux, vague allusions to Smut

AUTHOR’S NOTE: FINALLY! AFTER FOUR-FIVE MONTHS OF NO HOCKEY, THE LACK OF MOTIVATION, AND ME ACTUALLY NOT HAVING TO DEAL WITH A LOT OF STRESS, I’M FINALLY BACK!!!! Originally I wanted to post this the night of game 1, but shit happened and then I tried to post it before game 2, but y’all are getting it today! XD As a piece of compensation on my end, chapter 2 will be posted on Sunday evening. I promise, and if I don’t keep my word, bash me in the head with a hockey stick until I get a concussion.

Before you all begin reading, I just have to say thank you to everyone who has messaged me their excitement and their support throughout these difficult moments, it really means a lot. I also wish to extend my appreciation to 3 specific individuals: my friends @justinschultzy & @eafay70, and my dear Zhenya aka @cakemakethme (who will also be my Beta from chapter 2 or 3 onward). You three were the ones I continuously messaged updates on and your cheerleading was what ended up leading me to finishing this. So thank you very, very much! xxx

I have been wanting to write this fic for…gosh, maybe 2-3 years now and it’s finally being presented to all of you. I’m so excited for everyone to read it and to join me on this insane rollercoaster that is The Price of Love. With that all said and done I hope you all enjoy it, like and reblog, and I will (hopefully) post more sometime in the near future.

DISCLAIMER: I am not the owner of the Pittsburgh Penguins, or are associated with anyone in the NHL. I just have a very strong imagination.

A variety of noises ring out in Geno’s ears.

“Beer, over here!”

“Four sangrias for table three.”

“Vodka. Straight.”

“Whisky on the rocks.”

“Daiquiri. Make it a double.”

“Two champagne cocktails for table seven.”

Orders just keep coming and coming. He had been tossing and filling up a number of glasses and flutes for hours, sending them out left and right at the bar with almost no chance of having a small break in between. It was alright though, he grew used to it throughout his years of being one of the many favored bartenders at the Emperor Nightclub.

That, and he gets some real good money out of it, collecting all the large tips he gets whenever he cleans up the dirtied tables afterward.

With he and Tanger, his best friend and the other tender manning the bar, it feels like a marathon— albeit an easy one— to serve the feisty ladies and semi-agro men currently trying to take over the club.

The Emperor Nightclub is still up and running as the night starts to grow late. With a birthday bunch, a small group of ladies having a girl’s night, a married couple looking for a partner or two to join their bed (whether they were open or poly, Geno wasn’t sure), and college graduates dominating the patrons tonight along with the regulars— the nightclub roars as if it is New Year’s Eve in NYC instead of any other weekend in Pittsburgh.

No empty space could be seen on sight from where he was standing, with new patrons coming in the later part of the night, while the earlier patrons have made the decision to stay even after hours of partying and hollering.

Geno was given a small break as the crowd in front of the bar disperses, having been satisfied with the drinks they were given, taking whatever leftover bills he was given as a form of tip.

So far, it was a relatively good night for him.

Well…until a small, very familiar group came in, with the leader catching his eye like he usually does.

Being a bartender at a pretty famous nightclub in Pittsburgh, he sees a whole spectrum of people walking in and out of the nightclub’s doors: with some of them wanting to down tons and tons of alcohol that’ll make them black out until tomorrow afternoon, and others being on the prowl for someone to either take to their car, a nearby hotel, or even the nightclub’s bathroom.

One of them was about three or four, sometimes even more, prostitutes that are part of the latter category, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t take the time to chat with the bartenders, something that always brightened Geno’s night, especially when he was continuously swamped with drink orders…

…which is how Geno’s break ends: more people clamoring to the bar.

As of on cue, the moment that he continues to engage in dealing with patron’s drinks, the orders come rolling in even faster that he almost skipped a beat. From the corner of his eye, he could see the expression on Tanger’s face becoming more focused as his orders keep coming in with some extra flirting and touching from the patrons on his part.

He snorts at that. While Geno didn’t necessarily mind a customer or two coming up to flirt with him, he was never really interested in them, only responding back just to make their night a little bit better.

Out of all of his friends, it was Tanger that got the most attention from the patrons, with he following at a close second. It made sense because the French-Canadian looked like a supermodel. And himself? Well he wasn’t really sure if American people have a thing for foreigners like him, but he continuously gets complimented on his ability to wear a suit. So he considers that a plus.

His other friend, Dumo, tended to get third; primarily because he got a lot of attention from the college kids, either doing an insane number of shots or just randomly asking about his athletic abilities. Needless to say, it was very amusing to watch him wrack attention from the younger crowd. Though if anybody were to catch his eye, they should be aware of how damn good a cook he was.

The other two bartenders, Big Rig and Schultzy, also managed to garner themselves some attention from the patrons. Big Rig, for his height as he stood almost 7 feet tall (much taller than Geno), and Schultzy, for his happy-go-lucky personality. It was always something that made event the downiest of drinkers smile a little.

Even if he feels just a tad overwhelmed by the all of the drinks he has to quickly make, getting a glimpse of dark, curly black hair and a thick, white fur coat was enough to quell his nerves.

“You all need some additional help?”

A voice comes from Geno’s left side and it makes him jump a little (but not enough to make him mess up an order, which he has done before and has given the person who scared him a very stern talking to). He looks over to see who it was and finds Dumo standing there with his usual laid-back smile. Geno may or may not have breathed out a small sigh of relief at his arrival.

“Possibly, considering that G has been trying to catch a glimpse of Sid rather than seeing how much booze he’s pouring in.” Tanger smirks, placing at Geno teasingly.

Geno rolled his eyes and answered with a scoff. “Yeah. Like you not staring at Flower too, Tanger.” He feels a little vindication when seeing the French-Canadian man scowl in return. “But help always needed, Dumo. Things getting a bit out of hand and no one planning on going home soon.” Even though he knows he’ll get teased about it even more, his eyes couldn’t help wander off around the club, looking at all the excitement that is still going strong.

And again, seeing black curls and a white fur coat— Sid was his name— releases some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Alright then.” Dumo clapped his hands before he started to roll his sleeves of his button-up. “No one is really wanting drinks on my end of the bar, might as well waste time by giving you guys a hand.”

Neither Tanger or Geno responded to him as he already accepted his first round of orders from the loud frat boys and flighty sorority girls welcoming him, leaving the other two to tend the ones lining up at their respective corners.

Within the next minute or so, all three of them found themselves falling into a rhythm as they worked side-by-side, the drinks continuing to flow out and tips continuing to flow in. And with more patrons visiting the bar, come more even more orders and even more tips.

The extra pair of hands certainly help a lot in making the work feel a whole lot easier.

Dumo serves every patron that tries to start a conversation with him, listen to their problems in one ear while paying attention to orders in the other. He also subtly brushes off any flirty advances, but he does throw a smile here and a wink there to please all who are openly staring at him. He even does a little dance to the beat of the music as a little extra entertainment.

“Should’ve been a stripper, Dumo.” Tanger tells him as he stuffs some more bills into his pockets. “Missed the chance to be Magic Mike in Hollywood, but there’s still a chance here.”

Geno snorts as he slides a mint julep down the bar.

“Ha ha. Very funny, Tanger,” Dumo states unamused. “Can say the same about you too.”

Tanger just flips him off while Geno snorts again.

Eventually, the orders died down and the patrons scattered about. Dumo returned to the other bar on the opposite side of the room with Schultzy and Big Rig, while Tanger cleaned up any spilled alcohol left on the bar top.

Geno, meanwhile, began pouring more cocktails, glasses of wine, and laying more beer bottles onto a tray; but these were for any of the people hugging their half-full drinks, or for the tables that were littered with empty glasses and lime wedges.

No. This tray of drinks are for a certain group that he had noticed earlier.

Carefully, yet a little giddily, he manages to carry the tray single-handedly, and without spilling a single drop of liquor, all the way to a very specific table within the Emperor Nightclub.

As he walks closer and closer, the wild pacing of his heartbeat grows more and more. When he finally reaches the table, standing behind the object of his secret affections, he quietly gulps and places a gentle hand on his fur-covered shoulder.

The man stops whatever he was doing and turns around to look at him. And Geno swears he could feel his breath escaping his lungs and his rapidly-beating heart stopping.

Aside from their beautiful curly hair, the man also had the prettiest brown eyes and the biggest, most kissable lips imaginable (not that the bartender would ever admit that to him). He also had on an outfit that was not afraid to show off his…well, assets; outside of the white fur coat, he wore a white crop top with a red maple leaf on it, black leather shorts that magically fits his ass, and past those long, thick legs were a pair of black stripped high-heels that decorated his feet.

Sid smiles kindly at him, his teeth showing behind those glossed lips. “Hi, Geno.” he calls in his deep yet sweet-sounding voice. It didn’t sound flirtatious or seductive, which is normally how he talked to his clients, with the bartender, he always sounded genuine and pleasantly happy to see him serving drinks to him and his friends.

Geno nervously smiled back. “H-Hey, Sid,” he replies, silently curing himself for stammering in front of a prostitute who he may or may not have a big crush on. “Flower, Segway, Mitch,” he also greeted, who were all looking at him before he grabbed Sid’s attention. He began setting down the cocktails, wine, and beer. “Here are usual orders.”

The three other men accepted their drinks: a margarita, a beer, and a glass of white wine, respectively.

Still smiling, Sid happily accepted his cosmopolitan, plucking a strawberry off the skewer that was resting atop the martini glass. “Thanks, G,” he says before popping the mini strawberry into his mouth. “I know everyone has their favorite bartenders, but I still say you make the best cocktails.”

Hearing that from Sid (and watching him eat a simple piece of fruit) was enough to bring a blush and a dumbstruck smile to Geno’s face. “H-Heh…Thanks, Sid.”

Sid nods, eyes shining with a glint of something as he takes a sip of his cocktail.

It was a small moment or two of awkward (on the bartender’s part at least) silence before he coughed. “I, uhm, I’m best get back to work, so…bye.” With that, he quickly flees back to the bar.

(As he did so, he heard the soft giggles coming from Sid, but he failed to see him lightly admonish his friends as they smirked at the obvious crush the bartender had.)

After that little incident, Geno spent the rest of the night catering to any other patron that walked up and asked for— or sloppily demanded— drinks. Whenever he had a spare moment or two, he would glance up at table eight, watching the small group of friends chatting, laughing, and attempting to flirt with some of the other patrons that would stop by their table.

Part of Geno’s heart crumbled whenever he saw Sid respond to some of the men’s flirtatious mannerisms, whether it be throwing out seductive words, or a teasing touch, or even a tickle of breath or the faint press of lips.

He knows Sid isn’t tied down to someone. Why would he, the man was a prostitute after all. But that didn’t mean watching him act like that with others didn’t hurt.

From the moment he first met Sid, back when they were teenagers to young adults and Geno had just started working at the Emperor Nightclub, he always harbored secretly feelings for the young Canadian. He remembered the first time he ever plucked up the courage to speak to him and slide him a cocktail: one of his first attempts at a watermelon cooler, too easy of a drink to mess up on.

It was a bit strong on the booze and not fruity enough, but Sid didn’t tell him that. He just smiled and thanked him in a voice that oozed sensuality and charm, throwing in a wink for good measure. When he saw how awkwardly the bartender responded to it— by stammering and not completely picking up the subtle cue— he dropped the act, apologizing for making him feel awkward. To which Geno has to apologize as well, because he didn’t meant to make the moment awkward, he just wasn’t good at responding to someone who was cute like him.

That made Sid pause and blush, looking away from the bartender for a split second before gazing back up at him, a gentle smile on his face. This caused Geno to smile back, the both of them feeling a bit more relaxed than before. When the awkwardness of it all faded away, the two of them began to chat during the bartender’s break, or whenever he would get a breather from serving. In those small conversations, he realized that the flirty prostitute was actually…very dorky.

A dorky man who had a passion for history, craved mozzarella sticks and cheesecake, and had a strong affinity for sports just like he once did. And he had the goofiest laugh Geno had ever heard and thought it adorable. Seeing this, Sid’s true colors was what made him slowly start to fall in love.

But deep down, he knew that Sid would never feel the same about him. To him, it was fairly certain that he would get rejected upon confessing his feelings. So, in every encounter the two had after that, Geno would simply swallow his feelings and allowed Sid to flirt and be affectionate with other men that weren’t him.

They were just friends, nothing more.

(Although he can’t help but secretly wish for that to change one day).

Geno sighed sadly and began to untie his apron, ready to go into the staff room and change back into his regular clothes when Tanger tapped him on the shoulder. He looked over at him, ready to tie his apron back on, when he sees him pointing to the stairs near the back of the nightclub.

Coming down the stairs was owner Mario Lemieux.

He turned back to Tanger, brow raised. “So? He does that a lot.”

“Yeah he makes his rounds like he usually does, but does he ever personally come to us for anything? Usually it’s Jen that does it for him.” Tanger points out as they see Mario making his way over to the bar areas.

Geno hummed. He had a fair point, usually it was Jen, Mario’s personal assistant, that went and searched for them whenever he needed to have a conversation with them. In any other instance, the bartender would not hesitate to flee whenever he could, but she would usually find him in the end.

But Mario himself coming out to talk to one— or maybe all of them— was highly unusual.

It was even more unusual when he realizes that Mario coming towards him. He didn’t know whether he should run, or accept whatever was going to be handed to him.

Still tying his apron back on just in case, he meets Mario halfway: near the dance floor but not that far from the tables.

“Ah, Geno,” he says as the bartender comes up to him. “I was just coming to talk to you.”

“Need me to stay extra hours?” he asked, seconds away from letting out a tired sigh. He doesn’t like the idea of staying later than 1 or 2 AM on most days, but if the boss says so, he’ll make an exception.

“No, actually,” Mario shakes head making Geno confused. “I wanted to give you something.” He hands the bartender an envelope.

Taking it, Geno still looked confused as to what it was until he opened it, then his eyes widened in shock.

“Boss, are you— Are you serious?!” he exclaimed as he looked between the envelope in his hand, then back at Mario.

“It’s just little bonus, if you will, for being one of my best workers.”

“This more than bonus and you know it!”

Mario placated him by resting a hand on his shoulder. “As I said, you deserve it,” he reassured. “I know it’s more than what you normally make, and more than the other bonuses I give, but there’s nothing wrong with giving a little bit more to hard workers like you.”

Geno gazed back down at the envelope. Inside was a bonus check of over $10,000.

“But—”

“No buts.” Mario tells him seriously. “I mean it. You’ve been very dedicated to your work from the beginning, even if you were completely new to it. But you quickly improved over time and became a favorite amongst The Emperor’s patrons. It’s not hard to see why, Geno. So, go on, take the extra bonus. Do whatever you want with it, a gift from me to you.”

With that, he gave the bartender a pat on the back before heading back upstairs to his office.

The whole time, Geno’s eyes never left the check.

It was a large amount of money. In fact, it was double than what he normally makes for a bonus: $5000 at most, but if his boss said that he deserved it…well, who was he to deny himself a paycheck like this.

Finally, his eyes left the large sum of money, trailing back to the beautiful prostitute that was still sitting at table eight.

Maybe…maybe his chance had finally come. He may not be able to have a proper relationship with Sid, but he could at least spend one magical night with him, for however long he could make it.

He didn’t know what Sid charged for his services, but he hoped ten thousand dollars was enough to satisfy him (he was sure that it was, he was just being really nervous about confronting him).

Gulping, the bartender slowly— and anxiously— makes his way back to table eight. Along the way, he tries to remember all of the fancy restaurants that are in Pittsburgh, and there are quiet a number of them within the city and the surrounding area.

There was the Altius that has an amazing view of the city… the Monterey Bay Fish Grotto is one of the most famous restaurants… LeMont has been around for decades and is still highly regarded… most of the locals would know about the Grand Concourse… since he liked boats, one of the Gateway Clipper’s Dining Cruises would be nice…

Maybe the Hyeholde since it almost be like dining at a castle… the Carlton has a lot of national recognition… Bravo! Italian Kitchen has a good menu and they do have creme brûlée...

Or…he may just happen to like the Cheesecake Factory instead.

Before he could even make a final decision on what he was going to say, he was standing right in front of Sid (or behind, since his back was turned to him). Luckily for him, his other friends were either out on the dance floor or chatting up the other bartenders; maybe they were in the back lounges, but Geno doesn’t really care, he needed to focus on his main objective right now: gaining Sid’s attention, even if it was for one night.

Reaching a hand out, he hesitates for a split second before he decides to gently tap Sid on the shoulders.

The prostitute turned around to see who was standing behind him again, smiling when he realized who it was. “Hey, G. What’s up?” he asks curiously while he licks something sticky off his fingers.

Geno stared for a hot minute before quickly snapping out of it. “U-Uhm—!” He blushed and scratched the back of his head. “I-I want you to know that Mario gave me big bonus just now…”

Sid smiled wider at that. “That’s great, G! How much of a bonus was it? The usual 5k?”

He shook his head, looking away shyly. “No…gave me double that.”

Brown eyes widened as he exclaimed, “Wait. He gave you $10,000?!”

Geno nodded, showing him the envelop with the check in it. “Yeah, and uhm…was wondering if…” He blushed darker, still keeping his eyes away from Sid.

The prostitute was looking at him with concern now. “If uhm…You want to spend a night with me…?”

Sid stayed silent for the longest time, staring blankly at the bartender as he processed what he just asked him. “Geno, are you— Are you asking me to…service you?”

“Yes. I mean, no! Argh!” The bartender shook his head, feeling more embarrassed and stupid now. “What I’m mean is…I take you to fancy restaurant, maybe do shopping, and…” The blush on his face grew darker. “I-If you wanted, we can go to hotel and… you serve me.”

A blush now came to the prostitute’s face. “O-Oh…”

Geno makes a flustered noise, still not looking Sid.

“I don’t— I-I don’t charge that much for a night's service, Geno,’ he tells the bartender with a shy voice. “Y-You can’t spend 10 grand on me in one night…”

“I-I’m know,” he nods. “But I’m try.”

Sid’s blush grew darker as he now looked away from the bartender. Neither one of them really knew what to say after that, the moment growing tenser and more awkward by the second.

Eventually, the prostitute was the one to speak first. “E-Even if you can’t spend all that money on me…it’d be nice to spend a night with you.”

Geno’s head snaps back to Sid, his own dark brown eyes widened at what he said. “R-Really?”

A small smile came to the prostitute’s face as he nodded. “Yeah,” he admits shyly, now looking back at the bartender. “I really do.”

He’s never admitted this to him, but he’s had a crush on Geno for a very long time now, ever since they met as teenagers in this very nightclub. He always thought the bartender would never want to be in a relationship with him because of what he does, but after hearing what he just said to him, he might actually have a chance to see if they would really work out.

“Uhm, great!” Geno exclaims with a grin.

Sid smiles a little more. “Did you have a particular restaurant in mind?”

The bartender pondered on the choices he thought about earlier before finally making a decision. “Altius?” he asks. “Is on Grandview Avenue and have good view of skyline.”

“Sounds great,” Sid nods in approval. “Maybe we could stop by the Cheesecake Factory afterwards. I haven’t had any in a long time and I’m overdue for a craving.”

“I figure you say that,” Geno chuckled. “Had that in back of mind in case you say no.”

An embarrassed giggle managed to escape the prostitute’s lips. “I guess I make my love of cheesecake very obvious, eh?”

“You do, but is okay,” Geno reassures. “I like that about you.”

Another giggle, this time, one that was more airy and a little bit giddy-sounding. “So, when did you want to do this? Tomorrow night?”

“We can do that,” he nods. “I take night off.”

“Are you Mario would allow that?” Sid raises a teasing brow at him. “I mean, he did just give you a big bonus. He may change his mind when he hears you taking a day off.”

Geno waved at him nonchalantly. “Eh. He not mind.” he tells him. “Besides, be nice to get away from club for one night. And I spending night with you, so is good reason.” He lightly smirked at him.

Sid’s blush couldn’t get any redder, but it manages to with the bartender’s words. Just then a waiter came by and served him another drink, this time, a vibrant sunrise cocktail.

He takes the drink with a nod and a slight smirk before the waiter walks away. He takes a sip before turning back to Geno, his smirk growing in seductiveness. “So,” he starts before licking his lips, a little cayenne salt sticking to them. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow night?”

The bartender gulped and managed to nod, trying to keep his dirty thoughts at bay. “Yeah…see you tomorrow night.”

#SidGeno #Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin #otp: we grew up together here #hockey rpf #my hockey fanfiction #mpreg tw #The Price of Love

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lgcmax · 4 years ago

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𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 !

okay !! now that that plot call’s over i feel i can finally do a proper plot call. with a new trimester comes a whole load of exciting things, and though this is a tad late i’m happy to provide you with some plot ideas for max ! a lot of people expressed a desire to plot after my ooc love post thing, and i am really really happy to do so ! i haven’t been able to get to everybody individually yet but if you see something here feel free to lmk ! also, i feel like i could do better at interacting with newer muns / muns i haven’t interacted with much ! so, for now, priority goes to those who i haven’t gotten to plot with much yet !! i want to interact with more of you uwu !! and of course, comment or dm me if something catches your eye so i can cross it off !! thank you for taking the time to plot with me !! <33

𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒.

alrighty so although we don’t have official thread opportunities ( yet ) that doesn’t mean we can’t do something centered around it to get our muses together !

maybe they run through each of their “ star quality ” performances together, giving each other tips and overall just making sure they’re together ?? perhaps even a little heart to heart talking about their reasonings for debut / becoming famous & all that ?

alternately, someone who acts as a wake up person for max the day of the star quality performances and who he does the same for !! that sounds so confusing but basically these two make sure they both wake up on time & are energized lol !!! hyping each other up & all that ? if they’re dormmates, getting ready together, potentially exaggerated warmups; if they’re not, meeting up to walk over to the company building, having pep talks and getting each other pumped !

also if there’s someone who doubts their abilities and is like iffy on whether or not to join the show ?? let max convince you i swear he will tell you you are the **** and will make any muse confident and feel they have what it takes i swear !!!

𝐕𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏.

the vlive prompt is solo this trimester but !! guys um ... max has no cooking experience. please help him prepare um ??? it’s sad really

so yeah !! someone who can teach him how to cook - literally anything pizza rolls are the best he can do right now rip - and you’ll forever have his gratitude and loyalty !! though ... i won’t lie to you he might make your job 2000x harder by being a menace and tasting all the ingredients and being a little stupid ?? but it’ll be fun !!!! pls help him out lmAO

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒.

just some general, non-event threads i had in mind !

canada line. canada line ? canada line ! i never won’t support max having more canadian friends, esp toronto friends too ??

still down for language exchange buddies !! max learns french & still could honestly learn some korean, esp slang or older words ?? but honestly, if your muse speaks ( or signs ) anything else he’s probably down to learn lol ! and in turn, he can do his best to teach you korean, or english ! all stan twitter slang included haha !!

i love mess so enemies are always fun ?? either the competitive type, or just always butting heads ?

new blossoming friendships that are just beginning to become something are always cute !!

friends to unwind with ?? like pls give me people who just have a routine w / max to watch movies, play games, eat & all that w max ?? like the ultimate casual friends !

( drinking tw ) before max hops on future dreams i lowkey want him to try drinking 😳 bc as wild as he is, he’s not a drinker at all ?? don’t think he’s had past a few sips if i’m being honest ? but just for the fun of it why not 😜 and listen ... i’m not trying to get him fired lmAO so this has to be with a male-presenting muse & within the safety of the dorms ok lol !!! or even a flashback thread from his bday ?

omg someone he is indebted to for one reason or another ?? he needed their help really bad, accepted some stupid deal and now he has to stick to his word ?? bonus points if iit’s over some those are always fun haha !!

i think that’s all for now !! and as always, if you have a plot you wanted to present, don’t have ideas but just want to form a connection between our muses, or just want to bump our chat up in case i’ve forgotten to response please let me know !! i am always down to plot i am trying to get better at responding ok ... i am trying oijoijooi !!!

#( rallying the troops :: plot call. )#ok back to my hermit hole lMAO #well - more like preparing naris and inevitably falling asleep OIJOIJOI

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writethehousedown · 5 years ago

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And The Livin's Easy, Chapter Four (Multi) - Zyan

a/n: day 4 is upon us and i tried my best at keeping a balance! hope you like it 💗 thanks to frey for beta-ing. my sideblog is @chachkisalpaca !

It doesn’t take long until Gigi shoots Crystal a DM on Instagram, and Crystal replies with her usual wit, clearly glad to hear from her again.

Their conversation flows naturally, and they hardly let go of their phones throughout the rest of the day. On Gigi’s side, the girls pester her at all times, trying to get a peek at the handle of the mysterious woman she’d hooked up with at the beach — at some point, Gigi locks herself in the bathroom to text Crystal in peace, and only comes out when Nicky threatens to post to her Instagram Stories a video of that one time she gave a motivational talk to a carton cutout outside of the club, completely shitfaced and convinced it was a real woman.

She vaguely tells Crystal that —without going into details about the video, clearly,— and Crystal feels relieved that she and Vanjie aren’t staying at the same room. She loves her friend, but Vanjie snores as loud as she speaks, and Crystal appreciates her personal space, something Vanjie rarely remembers exists.

Crystal checks the weather forecast and smiles upon seeing there’s another full day of heat and sun upon them. Tomorrow they’re going chasing waves at Waikiki along with Vanessa and April, and a thought sparkles in her mind.

She asks Gigi what is she doing the next day, and she replies by saying they still don’t know. Jan has been pleading them to go on this submarine to watch the fishes, Nicky just wants to hit any of the clubs in the city, Jackie and Brita prefer to go back to her uncle’s bar, and Gigi doesn’t even know what she wants for dinner.

She comments, trying to make it as nonchalant as she can, that she’s going to Waikiki with some friends to train, adding that the beach is beautiful and knows a place nearby with great drinks. Gigi sends her a pair of eye emojis before saying that maybe she’ll tell the girls about it.

Crystal goes to sleep with a smile, feeling like a giddy child.

“Don’t you think Gigi is acting weird?” Nicky asks Jackie, upon seeing Gigi willfully head to the water alongside with Jan and Brita. Jackie cocks a brow, scrambling to get the sunscreen from her bag.

“Yeah, I think so. I was surprised when she proposed coming to Waikiki, ‘cause, ya know, she hates beaches,” she replies absent-mindedly, triumphantly holding up the bottle and finally pulling her gaze to meet Nicky’s. “Do you think the mysterious woman is here?” Jackie inquires, starting to cover her body in sunscreen.

Nicky shrugs, pulling her knees closer to her chest, watching Jackie closely. She wonders for a moment if this is a good moment to talk about what happened, now that they’re alone, but Jackie’s been avoiding it for weeks, so she really doesn’t know if she’ll be willing to have that conversation.

Before she can say anything, Jackie turns her attention back to her with a sheepish expression.

“Can you help me with my back?” She asks, handing her the sunscreen. Nicky feels her face heat up as soon as she nods and Jackie turns around, the memories flooding back as her fingers spread the cream on her back.

Jackie shivers a little, but stays silent. Nicky exhales a breath she didn’t know she’s been holding and tries to find the right words to express the feelings bottled up in her chest.

But she can’t. She’s afraid she might make things go back to being awkward, as if they hadn’t just moved past that point. There’s a lot of things Nicky wants to say, though, but she’ll just let Jackie live.

“Done,” Nicky musters, setting the bottle aside and wiping the remnants of the sunscreen on her thighs. Jackie thanks her and adjusts her bathing suit as she stands up.

“You coming?” She asks, pointing at the rest. Jan and Brita are splashing Gigi, who just screeches and runs around, trying to escape from them. Nicky chuckles, but shakes her head no.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she simply replies. Jackie cocks her head a little, opening her mouth to say something. Nicky continues before she can say anything, “I have a feeling it’ll rain,” Nicky explains, and an amused smile blooms on Jackie’s face.

“What? But it’s sunny as hell! And the weather forecast said today would be hot,” Jackie points out, but Nicky just shrugs.

“I have a sixth sense,” she says, matter-of-factly.

Jackie just chuckles, saying she knows where they’ll be if she decides to join them.

Crystal bites back a laugh when she meets Gigi, who’s sitting under a palm. She has two smoothies and a shit-eating grin.

“Took you long enough,” she says, handing her the smoothie. Crystal laughs wholeheartedly, settling besides Gigi and leaving her surfboard next to her.

She didn’t lie when she said she takes her training seriously; just because Gigi is hot and they have chemistry, doesn’t mean she’s going to push aside her obligations. At the end of the day, they have a normal life to come back to once the summer is over — and Crystal has a surfing competition to win in five days.

“You won’t be complaining when I win next week and I treat you to a dinner,” Crystal teasingly says, taking a sip from her smoothie. Though she secretly hopes she’s manifesting it into the universe — she could use that money to pay a good chunk of her student loans, aside from taking Gigi to dinner.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not a gold digger and I like complaining. You’re basically fucked,” Gigi replies with a wink. Crystal merely chuckles, bumping shoulders with Gigi.

“Well, if it’s by you, I don’t mind,” Crystal quickly quips, making Gigi snort and spit her smoothie.

“You’re nasty,” she says, smirking, wiping off the smoothie from her chin.

“You like it.” Crystal brings a thumb to the corner of Gigi’s mouth and wipes off some sneaky drops, and the action is so familiar, yet so different, that it sends a shiver down her spine.

Gigi clearly remembers it too, but she doesn’t say anything, just watches her intently with the same hungry eyes as that night at the beach.

There’s something about her that Crystal feels drawn to; like a moth to the light, she can’t help but to gravitate towards Gigi. It sounds stupid, because they’re properly known each other for a day and a few hours, but she feels as if it’s the only appropriate way to put it.

They talk about different topics, but all Crystal wants to do is close the distance between them and capture her lips in a kiss.

Gigi is talking about her major in fashion when the first drop falls. Soon, the pouring rain makes them aware of the dark clouds that had progressively covered the Sun. Something they hadn’t noticed, being too distracted with each other.

“My car’s down the street, follow me,” Crystal soon instructs her, using her surfboard as an umbrella.

They walk rapidly, though they stumble once or twice and bump into people thanks to the surfboard over their heads; with each step they take the rain becomes more aggressive. The people are already leaving, with their things half packed as they cram into their cars, and Gigi lets a sigh of relief when she sits in the passenger seat, that conveniently has a towel already spread out.

“That was for my friend, Vanjie, in case she came back with me,” Crystal explains unprompted, adjusting her seatbelt.

Gigi nods absent-mindedly, pulling out her phone from her shorts and dialing Nicky’s number — she always has her phone glued to her hand. It rings three times before she picks up.

“Geeg, where are you?” Nicky exclaims, there’s noise in the background and Gigi vaguely makes out the girls’ voices.

“I’m fine, I’m with Crystal in her car,” she says, letting it slip. But she figures now it’s not the time to play secretive. “Where are you?”

“Well, we’re going to the bus stop. Can you meet us there?” Gigi briefly glances at Crystal, who’s just staring at her with her brows knitted in a frown.

“I, uh, I guess I can, but—” She says something in French that Crystal can’t understand for the life of her, even though French is technically close to Spanish.

Gigi sighs in relief and bids goodbye to whomever she was talking to, turning back to look at Crystal.

“Would you mind if I come back to your place with you? Until the rain stops, I mean,” she says, and Crystal blinks repeatedly until she catches on with Gigi’s wicked grin.

Brooke’s Canadian politeness makes her unable to ignore Plastique.

She somehow regrets having used her as a rebound and at the same time not — Plastique is sweet, witty, and caring, and the fact that she seems to not have a clue she used to date Vanessa is a plus. She doesn’t act awkward around her or makes jokes about it. It’s nice.

Plastique sends her a photo of a bird she saw outside her window before the rain started, because she thought she’d like it, and Brooke smiles; it’s such a small thing, but it makes her giddy.

She giggles and soon hears Yvie mocking her from the other side of the room. Brooke rolls her eyes and throws one of the cushions from the sofa her way — sadly, it goes past her, and Yvie sticks her tongue out.

“Don’t you have a lifeguard to thirst after?” Brooke bites back, making Yvie shut her mouth. But it’s only a matter of time before she speaks again.

“I mean, yes, but it’s funnier to be a pain in the ass for you,” she quips nonchalantly, and Brooke cocks a brow.

“Weren’t you the one telling me to move on just a couple of days ago?” She inquires, and Yvie rolls her eyes.

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I like seeing your ass go back into a lovey-dovey mode. It’s disgusting,” Yvie says, doing an exaggerated disgusted face, and Brooke laughs loudly.

“Shut up and do me a favor — go get busy with the lifeguard and leave me alone, would you?” Brooke requests, throwing another cushion towards Yvie and hitting her in the face. She laughs, pleased, and Yvie throws it back at her.

“Her name’s Scarlet,” she says, “and I might just do it.” Yvie stands up, putting her phone in her pockets and heading towards the door.

“Don’t scare her off with your niche horror movies yet!” Brooke exclaims before she leaves.

Yvie flips her off and shuts the door behind her, Brooke chuckles just as a new text from Plastique comes in.

Gigi comes back way past after the rain ended and avoids all of her friends when they ask why did she come back so late — she just tells them she was busy with Crystal. And it takes them less than a minute to put two and two together and figure out that’s the name of the mysterious woman.

They decide to not push it, because even if Gigi has quite a few hickeys, she seems fine, and the dumb smile on her face makes them believe they shouldn’t worry.

Still, Jackie finds it hard not to worry, because she’s their mother hen after all, and she cares deeply for each one of the girls. Some more than the others.

Jackie’s gaze lingers towards Nicky, who’s leaning against the window with her cigarette dangling from her lips. She feels a knot in her stomach when the vision becomes too familiar — it makes Jackie regret not taking the opportunity to talk things out earlier that day and chickening out instead.

They’ve been acting like this for months, ignoring the elephant in the room, the writings on the wall — you name it, they’ve avoided it. Sometimes Jackie swears the girls know, when they shoot her sympathetic glares or joke about Nicky wanting to sleep with Jackie and vice versa.

If only they knew the truth.

Sometimes she misses waking up with Nicky and sneaking out from the others to make out, or how their hands found each other in a crowded space and even when they were alone, they wouldn’t let go.

Jackie misses all of that, but what she surely doesn’t miss is Nicky’s indecisiveness on whether or not she wanted a serious relationship with her.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #brooke lynn hytes/plastique tiara #jackie cox/nicky doll #gigi goode #crystal methyd #brooke lynn hytes #yvie oddly #jackie cox #nicky doll #and the livin's easy #zyan #surfer au #lesbian au #summer lovin' 2020 #day 4: heat #submission

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fanforthefics · 6 years ago

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For your send me an au and I’ll give you 5 hc for sidgeno. Assistant Geno and boss’s husband/boyfriend Sidney

this went a little sideways, but:

1) These are the things Geno knows about Sidney Crosby, before he starts working for Flower:

he’s one of the best actors in the world (Geno would argue he is the best, but apparently some people disagree). He’s been acting since he was about ten, won his first Oscar at 21, and is still the best ever.

He’s reputedly awkward in person, though no one says a bad word about him. Very Canadian, the articles tend to say--polite and polished like all child stars are. No whisper of any of the excesses of child stars, though; the sort of squeaky clean that makes people imagine he must be into something really weird.

He’s really good looking. This is maybe very related to 1, though Geno would argue it isn’t.

He’s probably dating Marc-Andre Fleury, and has been for years.

2) Geno gets the job as Flower’s assistant mainly out of luck and the good fortune of being old family friends with Sergei Gonchar. He knows just how lucky he is; he’s only a few years in the US, right out of grad school in communications, and that’s not exactly a profile that screams employable. but somehow Sergei knew someone who knew Flower’s agent, and now Geno is Flower’s personal assistant.

It’s a good job, and a fun job, honestly. Geno had expected that being an actor’s personal assistant would mean a lot of being bossed around by some bratty, entitled diva, but Flower’s great--he respects Geno’s time and space, he generally asks Geno for things instead of demanding them, and really, it seems more like he just wants someone to hang around with than anything else.

Except for the pranks. The pranks Geno was warned about beforehand.

So Geno likes his job, and it’s really interesting to see this side of the industry. There’s just one issue. That issue is 5′10, built just as thick in real life as he seems on a screen, is just as polite as on screen but also playful and personable with his friends in a way that Geno was not expecting from someone who always seems so serious on screen, and also there. A lot.

“Yeah, Sid’s coming over,” Flower had said, the first time it happened. “We’re gonna run lines or whatever.” He’d paused, as Geno had gaped more than a little. “Is that okay?”

“Sid? Sidney Crosby?” Geno had mumbled, and Flower had laughed.

“Yeah, he’ll be over a lot,” he’d said, and that was that. Sidney Crosby came over. Geno stammered out something even though he really did know English. Sid was unfailingly kind and polite. Sid and Flower had disappeared into a lounge. Geno had screamed into a pillow. Everything was fine.

3) If it had just stayed as that, everything would probably have been fine. Except Sid was over a lot. Sid was over a lot, or he and Flower went out and did things a lot with Geno hanging around, or they went to events together, and so Sid was just there a lot, until he stopped being Sidney Crosby and started being Sid, who was polite and kind but also ridiculously intense and competitive and a little awkward and so much more than jsut Sidney Crosby.

And also, Geno had to remind himself, Flower’s boyfriend. Well, Flower was pretty quiet about that stuff, about all his stuff from before he made it, and Sid’s need for privacy was legendary, but--Sid was always there, and they went to events together and laughed on the red carpet, and sometimes their friend Tanger came over and teased them about the magazines, so--Flower’s boyfriend. Geno’s bosses boyfriend. A movie star. Not, Geno told himself, every time Sid smiled at him, interested in Geno.

4) Flower finds Sid’s crush hilarious.

“Of course he’s your type!” he crows, the first time Sid comes over, sees a tall guy with a great smile and a face that’s interesting, which in Sid’s experience is far more rare than one that’s handsome, and immediately drops into media mode as self-preservation. “I couldn’t have planned this better myself!”

“You could have warned me,” Sid hisses, glancing at the door. Geno’s just outside.

Flower laughs. “Why would I do that when i could see you squirm?” he asks, and Sid punches him for that, with the ease of a decades long friendship.

So maybe Sid comes over more often than he usually would. Maybe he spends more time hanging out with Geno than mingling at events or chatting with his other friends. He doesn’t neglect anything, of course, and Geno’s--he’s smart, and more than that he’s genuine, he doesn’t hide anything. What he feels, he feels; it’s written all over his face. It’s refreshing, for Sid who’s lived around Hollywood since he was a child.

“Why don’t you just ask him out?” Flower asks, after Sid spends the first ten minutes of going to a bar with Tanger’s with Flower chatting with Geno, instead of sitting in a booth with them.

Sid scoffs. “I can’t do that.”

Tanger raises his eyebrow. He’s an outside observer here, but he is also very amused and gives Sid a lot of shit. Sometimes Sid thinks he needs better best friends. “He looks at you a lot. He’ll say yes.”

“That’s not--he’s smart. He went to college. He doesn’t want...this,” Sid says, waving a hand at himself.

“Oh he wants that,” Flower retorts, waving a hand specifically at Sid’s ass.

“Okay, so he thinks I’m hot. So do a lot of people who get annoyed by me.”

Flower rolls his eyes. “Sid--”

“And,” Sid fixes him with a serious look. “I can’t bring him into this, even if he is really into me. That’s not what anyone wants.” Flower opens his mouth, but Sid keeps going. “As you of all people should know.”

Flower shuts his mouth. He is the person who has been using Sid as a shield for years so people don’t ask about where he goes when he disappears off to Montreal to live with Vero and be a normal person for a while.

“So no, I’m not asking him out,” Sid says, firmly, and hopes it’s firm enough for Flower and Tanger to let it go, even if not to stop teasing him about it.

5) “He is very impressive, is he not?” someone asks, and Geno spins from where he was watching the shot. Kris Le Tang had appeared there, like models generally melt out of the woodwork on a movie set Which maybe they do, but this one is Sid’s movie set, and Flower’s just there because shooting went long and they were supposed to go out for lunch. Which maybe is why Tanger is there too, now Geno thinks about it.

“Yes, is very good,” Geno agrees, glancing back at Sid. It’s an understatement, of course. “Think everyone knows that.”

“Sure they do,” Tanger agrees. Geno doesn’t know him as well as Sid, though he knows that Tanger’s the third in the trio. He’s a little harder to read, a little more dangerous seeming--like how he looks at Geno now, a little sharply, a little like a cat considering a mouse. “You definitely do, I think.”

“I’m--fan, yes,” Geno agrees. He’s not ashamed of that. “You fan too, I think, or else not friend?”

“Sid needs friends who aren’t fans,” Tanger replies. He’s looking very intently at Geno, like he’s trying to say something more than his words. Given that it’s in both of their second language, Geno wishes him well. “Fans don’t really know him, not like friends do.”

“Yes, I’m see,” Geno says. He’s still watching Sid, as he laughs with the sound guy fixing his mic, easy and casual. “Has lots more to him than fan sees, yes?”

There’s a pause, then Tanger claps him on the shoulder. “He does,” Tanger says. “I think you’ll do.”

He walks away, and goes to find Flower, who’s standing by the food because apparently he couldn’t wait for lunch. Sid looks up from the microphones, sees Geno watching, and smiles at him. Geno smiles back.

It’s not until later, after Geno spends a long time but less time than he would like watching Sid work, that he realizes what Tanger was doing. Sid needs friends, not fans--he’s warning Geno away from Sid, reminding him that Sid and Flower are a thing, because he must have noticed how Geno looks at Sid.

Geno can take a hint. From what he’s heard of Tanger and how he defends his friends, he should maybe he glad the warning was this subtle.

6) They both pine for a long time--Geno thinks Sid is out of his league and also dating his boss, Sid isn’t sure how to read honest interest in him, if it’s just attraction or more, and would be cautious anyway. Flower and Tanger watch with interest. Until--

7) One of the main problems with Geno’s job is that it generally requires punctuality. Geno is against punctuality as a rule, and Flower doesn’t seem to mind (Sid sometimes gets a little antsy, but Sid isn’t paying Geno, so Geno tells him that he’s ignoring Sid, which usually gets Sid to giggle), so usually it’s okay. But one day, for whatever reason, he manages to be early, which is basically unheard of.

Which is probably why he overhears Flower on the phone, talking in French, but in an unmistakable sort of tone. It’s...sappy, in a way that Geno hasn’t ever heard Sid and Flower interact before; they’ve always been very proper in public. But this is definitely sweet. It makes Geno feel a little better and a little worse--better, because he does what Sid and Flower to be happy; worse, because he’d maybe been having ridiculous fantasies about how Flower and Sid would figure out they actually don’t love each other and then Geno could, like, sweep Sid off his feet or something and show him how someone really ought to treat him. But if this is how they act when Geno’s not there...

Except the phone must be on speaker, because then Geno catches very feminine laughter from the other side of the call, and some more French in that same tone.

Geno goes very still. He doesn’t--the conclusion is inescapable, and it’s even more so, when he hears the sign off with what sounds like a kiss. Flower is cheating on Sid. It’s--he doesn’t know what to do.

He’s sure he seems stunned, when Flower comes out and sees him there, greets him. Geno definitely growls at him, or something, before he catches himself, but Flower apparently just puts it up to a bad mood.

Geno goes through the rest of the day on autopilot. He does his job, but--how is he supposed to look at Flower, knowing this? But also maybe his loyalty should be to Flower, who is after all his boss? But--cheating on Sid? Friendly, deceptively open Sid, who only allows a few people close enough to see his soft belly (Metaphorically, Geno has yet to see Sid shirtless outside of a screen and thinks that’s probably best for his continued sanity. Also, he’s pretty sure it’s not soft). Sid, who clearly adores Flower. Who--

Geno makes it the rest of the day, before he ends up snapping something at Flower as he leaves, then he ends up at Sid’s door. Well, the gates to Sid’s house; there’s an insane amount of security on it. Geno’s been inside a few times, dropping Flower off or picking him up, but he’s never gone there on his own.

Still, he gets inside easily enough when he says his name; the door opens and he’s ushered inside by a Sid in sweatpants, bare feet, and a t-shirt that’s seen better days. Geno is momentarily speechless.

“What’s up?” Sid asks, shutting the door behind him. For all his millions, the house is--big, but not ostentatious. Maybe even homey. “Did Flower need something? He shouldn’t have sent you over, I could have messengered whatever it--”

“He’s cheat,” Geno bursts out, because he can’t hold it in any longer with Sid talking at him all sweet and--Sid like.

Sid’s eyebrows go way up. “What?”

“Flower, I hear, he--talk to woman, he’s cheat on you. I’m not want to tell you, because he’s my boss, but--you should know. Is not right, what he do. To you.”

“Um, Geno,” Sid starts, and he sounds the sort of gentle that means he doesn’t believe Geno, so Geno keeps going.

“I know you not want to believe, I’m not want to either, but I hear, and I’m sure.”

“Yeah, I know you--”

That’s even worse! “You know!” Geno demands, his voice getting louder. “You know, and you not say anything? Is not--you should not put up with this, should--you deserve more,” he settles on, because that’s what he knows is true. “More than boyfriend who’s cheat. You deserve--everything. Should not stay if--”

“Geno,” Sid snaps, and Geno’s mouth snaps closed. He’s not sure he’s ever heard that tone from Sid, the sudden command in it, but of course Sid can do that too. “Geno,” Sid says again, a little softer. “This woman Flower was speaking to--it was in French?” Geno nods. Sid’s face relaxes, a little. “Oh, yeah, that’s Vero, don’t worry about it.”

“Vero?” Geno repeats. “Who’s--you have,” he hesitates, finds the English, “Open relationship? Poly?” If he did

Sid goes a little red, then shakes his head. “Has Flower seriously not said anything to you? After all this time?”

“Sid,” Geno whines. He’s starting to feel like he missed something.

“If Flower hasn’t said--”

“Sid, tell me. What do I not know?” Geno demands. Sid’s lips twitch.

“Vero’s Flower’s long time girlfriend.”

Geno pauses. Blinks. “No, you’re his long time boyfriend.”

Sid shakes his head. “No, we just--hang out, and we’re good friends so the media sometimes thinks that, you know? And we let them, because it lets Flower and Vero stay low key and keep her away from the spotlight, and it keeps people away from me.” Geno blinks. This is--he can’t quite compute it. “You really didn’t know?” Sid asks, and now he sounds confused. “You’ve seen us together a lot. You thought we were actually together?”

“I’m not know, I think you’re private! Not want me to see!” Geno bursts out. “I’m not think too hard about it.”

"But that makes no sense,” Sid argues, because of course he does. “Flower’s all sappy with Vero, in relationships, and even I’m more affectionate than that. I don’t treat boyfriends like I treat Flower.”

“How am I suppose to know that?” Geno retorts. Then, “Boyfriends?” he asks. “That--that’s true?”

Sid goes a little flushed, but it’s pretty clear Geno doesn’t have an issue with that at this point, so, “Yeah,” he says, clearly and firmly.

Geno nods. Swallows. “You have one now?” he asks, and Sid shakes his head. “Oh.”

“I’m busy,” Sid goes on, like he needs to explain it. “Shooting’s been insane this year, and I’ve got my work with the Foundation, and--”

“Yes, I know,” Geno does. He’s been there for a lot of it, or heard Flower talk about it. “So. You single?”

“Um, yeah. But don’t spread it, the thing Flower and I do works, and--”

“Yes, of course,” Geno snaps. He’s not going to just betray them like that. (And, a part of him he doesn’t want to listen to says, as long as people think Sid’s dating Flower no one else is going to ask him out and Geno might--). “Um. I should go, if no--”

“You could stay, watch the game,” Sid suggests, offhand.

“Yes!” Geno maybe says it too quick, too eager, but Sid only grins.

“Um, warning, I’m apparently annoying to watch games with, I get--”

“Yes, I see,” Geno agrees. He’s seen Sid and Flower watch games before, seen how much Sid talks and how into it he gets. Geno’s sometimes annoyed by it, but also ridiculously fond of him for it. As long as Geno’s in the right mood, it’s fun to argue with him about it. “I want to watch still.”

“Oh.” Sid’s cheeks are a little red.

“I tell you how you’re wrong,” Geno goes on, and SId tilts his head back and laughs, and Geno can’t look away.

8) Flower definitely laughs himself sick, when Sid tells him what Geno said. “You never tell, how I”m supposed to know?” Geno protests, but Flower keeps laughing and texting Vero. Sid is...suspicious, maybe. Flower would definitely do something like this as a plot.

“Well, yeah,” Flower agrees, when Sid gets him alone outside of Geno’s earshot. “Not at first, but then--yeah.”

“Flower, that wasn’t--”

“Making him wait for it was good for him,” Flower says, waving his hand dismissively. “If he’d asked you out right away, he wouldn’t have known you, and then you’d have gotten your heart broken. Again,” he adds, pointedly, which--fine, Sid knows it’s happened before. “Now he knows you, so when he asks you out, it won’t be blind.”

Sid hates his friends, sometimes. “He didn’t ask me out,” Sid points out. That seems like a glaring problem with Flower’s plan.

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s taking him so long,” Flower hums. He’s got a light in his eyes like he’s plotting something.

“No.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Flower says, and Sid groans.

9) This is what Flower plots:

“So you should ask out Sid,” he says, and next to him Tanger crosses his arms and nods menacingly. “Not in a, I’m your boss and I’m ordering you to do it way, but in a, he’d definitely say yes if you wanted to way.” Tanger nods again. It is, for some reason, still menacing.

Geno gapes. This is not what he expected when Flower asked Geno to come into his office. “You tell me not to!” he protests, throwing it at Tanger. “You say I’m not--”

“I said Sid shouldn’t go out with a fan,” Tanger says, smirking again like he knew exactly what he said. Geno is beginning to think all of Sid’s friends are just evil. “You aren’t just a fan anymore though, are you?”

“That’s not--” Geno gives up on that threat, “And he’s movie star! He’s who should ask me!”

“He’s not going to.” Flower’s serious, suddenly. “He doesn’t want to leverage any sort of admiration you might have had for him, no? And it is not easy, to go out with actor. This is why I kept Vero a secret. So he will not ask that of you.”

“But--" Geno gets that, he does. He’s seen Flower’s life, Sid’s. But--it would be worth it, he thinks. And Sid’s so private anyway. “I could.”

“See?” Flower turns to Tanger. “Told you.”

Tanger shrugs, very gallicly. “I never said he would not.” He looks at Geno. He’s not smiling. “I said he should be very careful, if he did.”

Geno glares back. He’s not going to just--back down, or shit. Tanger can glare at him all he wants. Tanger starts to smile back.

10) In the end, Geno asking Sid out is a non-event. Sid showed up early to Flower’s set before they were going out for dinner, and while they’re waiting, Geno leans over to Sid. “You want to come over for dinner, sometime?” he asks. He’s maybe been thinking about this a while, what to do for the man who has everything, or the money to buy everything.

Sid’s eyes are sharp, but he smiles. “You can cook?” he teases, trying to feel out what’s happening. What sort of invitation this is.

Geno shrugs. “I warm up food mama left,” he admits, shameless. Anyway, that matters more, in some ways, than cooking himself, and Sid’s been around long enough to get that; his eyes widen, and he flushes.

But, “Yeah,” Sid agrees, watching Geno evenly. “I’d like that.”

Geno grins. He’s going to treat Sid exactly like he deserves, and it’s going to be great.

11) Here are the things Geno knows about Sidney Crosby:

he’s the best actor in the world (Geno’s making a stand on this one).

He’s not nearly as awkward as people think he is, and he’s more extroverted than anyone thinks. He’s also deeply weird, talkative, competitive, and kind, but that’s only for people who know him well.

He’s probably the most handsome man in the world too.

He is definitely not dating Marc Andre Fleury. Geno is damn sure of that.

#pens tumblr fic #well this got long huh #and went a little sideways #hope you enjoy anyway!#my fic #Anonymous #izzy answers

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sweetbitterpdf · 5 years ago

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Any tips for learning french? :(

ooh this is such an interesting question!!

i’m gonna first give context on my experience with french. as i said in a previous ask, i spent nine years learning it. this was in school, and for the first three years, it was in mandatory classes (there’s no national standard for canadian french education across all the provinces, but in my schooling system you had to start in third grade, and you could stop in tenth grade if you wanted to), the latter six years (7th through 12th) were in what’s called french immersion, an optional and—evidently— more immersive french education than the mandatory french classes that everyone had to take (we called it “core french”)

so i spent a long time learning french. when i graduated high school at 18, i had been learning french half my life. i also got an award for getting the highest marks in the french class i took in grade 12 which was, frankly, mad litty, still one of my crowning achievements, go 2017 em

... but telling you ‘dedicate nine years of your life to it’ clearly isn’t super practical for someone trying to learn it! so here are some more concrete tips:

vocab, vocab, vocab!!

the MOST IMPORTANT part of learning any language. keep track of vocab in any way possible. you can write words down, make physical flashcards, or use a resource like quizlet to make flashcards electronically. this is useful for french because of the gendering of nouns, which english doesn’t do. it’s a strange concept to grasp, and there isn’t a whole lot of logic to it— of course ‘girl’ is feminine (la fille) and ‘boy’ is masculine (le garçon), but it can be hard to remember whether something like the word ‘chair’ is masculine or feminine (for the record, it’s feminine— la chaise).

so much of language learning is just rote memorisation, which i think a lot of people have trouble getting the hang of. it’s a lot of brute work, a lot of boring work, but seeing your fluency progress is more than worth it, in my opinion!

“but em,” i hear you ask, “where do i get vocab?”

watch french tv/film & listen to french music

i started doing this around sixth grade i believe? it was part of our daily homework, to go home and watch TV in french.

and, if i was lucky, i would understand a word or two in a sentence.

this one seems very daunting at first! and it’ll be super confusing initially, with or without subtitles (that one’s up to you! i’d recommend subtitles at first, before trying to watch without them, or maybe watching with french subtitles!)

skam france (which i’m assuming you’re into, if you’re following me...?) is a lovely option for consuming french media.

listening to music in french is another excellent way to learn! you can look up the lyrics, in french or english, and work your way through the song! i still have to look up lyrics to french songs pretty frequently. though, mind you, i do that for english songs pretty frequently as well oop

there’s this pre-conceived notion that, when you do something like this, you have to understand everything for it to be a success. that’s not the case— far from it, in fact! i spent so long— and in some cases continue to— only being able to get the vague plot of the film/show i was watching, only catching maybe half of the words. but— and stay with me here— that’s an achievement in itself! you aren’t going to ever completely know a language, even your native one! i look up english words all the time, still!!! and understanding the general plot of a story in a language that you’re learning is another one of those super gratifying feelings that you encounter while learning a language.

utilize online resources

this is a huge one, and also a broad one. by this, i mean stuff like duolingo (which i advocate for wholeheartedly!! it has a really good structure lesson-wise, and french is one of its most extensive courses, if not, the most extensive one!)

but by this i also mean things like PDFs of french textbooks! those will give you a similar structure to being in an actual class— i would recommend taking a class if you can, because it forces you to continue learning, even when you don’t want to (because you aren’t always going to be super motivated, let’s be real), but i know that’s not an option, for a lot of people.

and i also mean things like looking up soundbites for introductory french learning. youtube would most likely have plenty of stuff like that. it’s one thing to learn from one source— and if you want to start easy, that’s absolutely fine!— but learning from multiple places would work wonders on comprehension!!

read in french, write in french, speak in french

this is another daunting one, but another ridiculously necessary one. you may feel like you aren’t ready to do any of these things, especially very early on, but one of the biggest tips i have for learning french, or any language really, is to do these as much as you reasonably can, right from the get-go.

another thing i would HIGHLY recommend— and this forces some people to embarrass themselves— is to start off by consuming french media made for babies.

think about it this way: learning a new language is sort of like starting your entire life over. rather than being an english-speaking adult (or teenager), you’re now a french speaking baby. do babies follow proper sentence structure? do they read novels? do they get everything right, linguistically-speaking? no, of course they don’t! conversely— were you born fluent in your native language? or did your parents and family and teachers teach you, word by word, until you got to where you are now?

speaking french aloud is probably the most intimidating part of learning it, at least to me. mind you, this is largely due to circumstances (anglophone teachers, and many of them, leading to me having an awful accent, when i speak french!). for a lot of people, myself included, the fear comes from messing up, especially when talking to francophone people (native french speakers), because there isn’t as much time to think, to verify grammar/vocab/etc.

but this ties in to my baby idea, from above— think of the amount of patience and flexibility that’s necessary when talking to a toddler. do you always understand what a toddler is trying to say to you? no, but you do some of the time! and as the toddler gets older and they learn more and more, conversation gets easier. also, if they get something wrong, you correct them (well, sometimes!) gently, and patiently. you’re basically a toddler that’s more willing to learn than an actual toddler is. communicating with native speakers is key— people that can give you constructive criticism, while also treating you the patience that you deserve. if you know a french person irl, ask them if they’d be willing to talk with you in french, so that you can practice. alternatively, another great way to practice like this if you don’t have someone like that in your life is via email or even snail mail! worldpenpals is lovely for either— you can search for people by country, by language, etc., and once you start talking, you can keep it online, or exchange info and write letters to each other!

another pre-conceived notion that runs rampant in language learning, that i’ve noticed, it the idea that you either know a language or you don’t, that you’re either fluent or you’re not.

and it’s just... not that simple! like at all! like i said a little while ago, i’ve been speaking english for (roughly) 20 years. but would i say that i know english? that i know the entire language? absolutely not!! i look up new words on like a weekly basis!!

if you’re trying to learn a language so you can say “alright, i speak it, i’m done now,” then you’re not learning a language with the right intention! languages are organic things, they grow and change, and you’re never not learning a language, you know? each language is its own little world, and there are so many people who are willing to help you explore it.

#asks;#amis anonymes;#i hope this is at least like... semi-coherent lmao #i just LOVE talking about languages holy shit communication is so wild #also anon i'm not a native speaker by any means but i can definitely help you practice (up to a certain point!)#hope u enjoyed my novel #thx for coming to my TED talk uwu

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years ago

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Chapter 5 - Ben, Jerry and Alfred

La Patisserie de la Rose by George deValier

CHAPTER FIVE Ben, Jerry and Alfred

By mid Sunday afternoon, Matthew still hadn't managed to drag himself from the couch where he had fallen the night before. After almost a month in this city, the small grey apartment living room he lay in still wasn't completely furnished. A low, uncovered coffee table stood between the only couch and the television, while only a small bar fridge sat in the adjoining kitchen. Most of Matthew's belongings were currently in suitcases or in storage, which would make things easier, he supposed, when he moved town. Which, after the events of the previous evening, should be any day now.

Matthew lay against the nest of cushions and pillows he'd made for himself, steadily making his way through an entire bottle of maple syrup as he watched ancient re-runs of Degrassi High on the soap channel. The silly Canadian melodrama was only making him feel worse, but he could not summon the energy to change the channel. Matthew couldn't summon the energy to do anything but lie, unmoving, trying unsuccessfully to forget and regret the entire last week of his life. But he couldn't. All he could think of was Francis.

Matthew swallowed another gulp of maple syrup, ignoring the slightly queasy feeling growing in his stomach. Okay, so he'd met a nice guy, had a good time, and it hadn't worked out. So? That sort of thing happened all the time when people dated. Probably. Matthew wouldn't really know. Regardless, it wasn't a big deal. Francis just wanted something different from what Matthew was looking for. Francis wanted a short-term fling. Matthew wanted a relationship. And he was being all silly and upset because he had mistakenly believed Francis wanted the same. But really, this was good thing, Matthew tried insistently to tell himself. It was a relief to know, now, before anyone got really hurt. Besides, Francis wasn't even the type of man Matthew would normally look twice at. Too showy, too brash, too much. But he was also funny, and sexy, and strangely charming - and Matthew had fallen for him headfirst after only a few days.

Matthew shook that last thought from his head. No, he was not going to continue being distraught over this. He was not going to mope and cry and mourn over a man he barely knew, however special that man made him feel; however bright he made the days; however brilliant his eyes or perfect his smile or captivating his laugh or… Matthew gritted his teeth, squeezed the maple syrup bottle, and abruptly hurled it at the TV. "Oh, Caitlin, when will you learn?" he shouted at the ridiculous soap opera on screen. "Joey's only going to keep hurting you!"

A knock sounded suddenly at the door, loud and long and frantic. "Go away," Matthew muttered, hugging a cushion to his chest. The obnoxious pounding refused to stop, however, so Matthew reluctantly got to his feet and dragged himself across the room. He groaned the second he threw open the door.

"Matt, thank goodness!" Alfred spoke breathlessly, a huge overnight bag slung over his shoulder and overflowing plastic bags in his hands. He looked like he had run all the way from America. Knowing Alfred, he probably had. "I came as soon as I could!"

Matthew blinked in surprise. Of all the things he did not expect on his doorstep today… "Why?"

"Why?" Alfred looked incredulous. "Because you rang me at 3am to tell me you were moving to Antarctica. Please don't move to Antarctica, Matt! That's, like, near Poland or something. What are we supposed to do at Christmas?"

Despite himself, Matthew felt his lips twitch in a tiny smile. Trust his kind, foolish, misguided brother to turn up on his doorstep, in a different country, after a simple late night drunken phone call. "I'm not moving to Antarctica, Al. People say things they don't mean when they're upset."

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief, pushed past Matthew, and headed straight to the kitchen. "Good. Although I hear the weather's nice, and living with the kangaroos would be kind of cool. Now I know you're upset, so I brought you ice-cream."

Matthew followed slowly, his heart sinking just a little. Just what he did not need when trying to forget Francis – to be reminded of the one other man who had broken his heart. "You thought, after being dumped, that ice-cream would make me feel better."

"Ice-cream makes everyone feel bet…" Alfred's eyes widened guiltily. "Oh shit, ice-cream was your thing with that Cuban guy, wasn't it? Okay, forget the ice-cream. I also have…" Alfred dropped the dangerously full bags onto the kitchen bench and rifled through them. "Snickers and skittles and twizzlers and ooh, gummi bears, and coke and creaming soda and…"

"Alfred."

"Yeah?"

"Give me the damn ice-cream."

Matthew again sat nestled into his layer of pillows, staring unseeing at the TV, already on his second tub of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice-cream smothered in maple syrup and washed down with copious quantities of coca-cola. Alfred sat beside him on the couch, resting his feet on the candy-littered coffee table, onto his own second tub of Ben and Jerry's AmeriCone Dream. Alfred had quickly hijacked the remote control and had so far scrolled through the cooking channel, a black and white French film, and an old episode of 'McHale's Navy,' all of which reminded Matthew of Francis in one way or another. Alfred was now glued to 'Ice Road Truckers,' which seemed fairly safe. However, despite his best efforts to the contrary, Matthew kept bringing the conversation back to Francis.

"Fifteen, Al. FIFTEEN!"

Alfred whistled. "Must've been sore in the morning."

"But how is it possible?" Matthew gestured with his spoon and ice-cream container, trying to make sense of the logistics. "How do they… where do they… how does everyone even fit? Even if they divide into pairs there's one left over."

"He's probably the one holding the camera."

"Sailors, even." Matthew knew he shouldn't be thinking about this, but he simply couldn't stop himself. Images kept drifting through his head of Francis in various naked acrobatic positions with a veritable legion of faceless men. Most of them wearing little blue and white caps. "Sailors, Al! Have you ever slept with a sailor?"

Alfred paused, thinking, his spoon in mid-air. "No. I almost slept with a coastguard once. Does that count?"

Matthew shrugged dismissively. "Sure, why not."

Alfred dove back into his tub of Ben and Jerry's. "What about you?"

"I've slept with two men, Alfred. Ever." Matthew waved two fingers in Alfred's face. "Two. Meanwhile, Francis has apparently slept with the entire Royal Canadian Navy."

Alfred nodded sagely. "I bet it was the submarine fleet."

Matthew shook his head, the images starting to overwhelm him. "I can't talk about this anymore. I can't. I'm going insane." He dug out a huge spoonful of ice cream, devoured the lot, then immediately asked, "Do you know what he asked me when we first met?"

"To look over his stock portfolio," Alfred answered immediately.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "Why does everyone assume I'm an investment banker?"

Alfred looked apologetic. "It's the suit, dude."

"He asked if he could give me a hand. Just like that." Matthew attempted to imitate Francis' heavy accent. "'Can I give you a hand by any chance?'" But even as he spoke derisively, Matthew could picture Francis standing there in his bright, warm patisserie, smiling gently and gesturing gracefully and looking at Matthew like he was the only person in the entire world…

Alfred whistled again. "Well, he's got balls."

Matthew tried to laugh, tried to mock the flashy Frenchman. "He was always like that. Always 'mon cher' and 'my dear' and 'darling…'" Always kind and sensuous and charming… Matthew stabbed his ice cream angrily with his spoon and grumbled. "I mean, how pathetically contrived can you get?"

"Dude. He sounds like a total queen."

"Yes. Well, no. He's just… stupidly charming."

"Bastard. Want me to kick his ass?"

"Yes. Wait, no! Damn it, I'm not talking about this. I'm not thinking about him. I'm changing the subject." Matthew took a swig of coke, passed the bottle to Alfred, then tapped his spoon against his chin. Why was he completely unable to think of anything else? "Okay, you change the subject."

Alfred shrugged. "How's work?"

Matthew groaned. What a terrible change of subject. "Awful. Boring." The only thing that made it bearable was the anticipation of seeing Francis again… Matthew shook the thought from his head and tried to pay attention to 'Ice Road Truckers.' "I think I should quit being an accountant."

Alfred looked at him, startled. "Really?"

"Yeah." Matthew immediately began considering his options for changing jobs, moving town, and forgetting the last week in this city had ever happened. He gestured to the screen with his spoon. "I could do this, you know. I could move to Alaska and be a trucker." The solitude, the cold, the ever-present chance of falling through a hole in the ice. It sounded rather appealing. "In fact, I think I might."

"That'd be cool," said Alfred, impressed. "You could be on the show and everything. Or you could move to Louisiana and catch gators. Or be a bounty hunter. Ooh, Matt, be a bounty hunter!"

"Hmm. There's a thought." Matthew gave Alfred a tiny smile. "You could join me."

Alfred gasped loudly. "I totally could! Matt, we'd be so awesome, busting crims and wearing leather and drinking in taverns and we'd be…" Alfred's face froze in some sort of silent comprehension, his wide eyes lighting up. "We'd be like Boba Fett!"

Matthew laughed, easily remembering just what he missed about Alfred. His brother could always make him smile – even when he frustrated the hell out of him. "We could start an agency. The 'Williams-Jones Fugitive Recovery Service.'"

"Dude, that'd be so cool, except…" Alfred's face fell. "Except the NFL's got me under contract for another two years at least."

Matthew smiled softly. "Oh well. Maybe one day." Both brothers went back to their tubs of Ben and Jerry's, dreams of bounty hunting quickly forgotten. "How is work going, anyway? I heard you won some little game last week."

"Yeah," said Alfred, through a mouthful of ice cream. "The Super Bowl."

"Is that what that was?"

Alfred nodded. "Yep."

"Huh. That's sort of a big deal, isn't it?"

"Little bit, yeah."

Matthew raised his spoon. "Well done you."

Alfred touched his spoon to Matthew's in a toast. "Cheers."

Matthew suddenly felt a little guilty. He had gone over the last week three times and the previous night's party twice, yet had neglected asking anything about Alfred's life. He started by asking about Alfred's boyfriend of less than a year. Matthew had only met the Englishman a few times, but he liked the man, and they got along well. "How's Arthur?"

"Oh, you know. Same as always. Cranky, cute. Annoyingly British." Alfred smiled dopily. "Perfect."

Matthew glared through narrowed eyes. "Some solidarity, please?"

Alfred had the good manners to look a little guilty. "Oh, right. Well, um… last week he tried to cook dinner, and made me clean up."

Matthew shook his head dramatically. "Men."

Alfred snorted. "Bastards."

And then, again, Matthew's brain was flooded with thoughts of Francis. Memories, and emotions, and that dull, sick ache of desperate grief. He stared blankly at the wall as it all fell on his shoulders, fell like a cold stone in his chest. "Really, I should have seen through him. I should have known what Francis was doing. It shouldn't have taken a week. It shouldn't have taken his cousins and his friends to hammer the truth into my thick head." Matthew remembered the humiliation of standing in that doorway as Francis' friends and family laughed, the horrifying realisation that he was just another of Francis' conquests. He swallowed heavily, his cheeks burning with the memory. "It felt like they were all laughing at me. Or feeling sorry for me. I don't know what's worse."

Alfred sighed quietly, sadly. "Oh, Matt."

Matthew laughed bitterly. He laughed to keep from crying. "I should have seen it before I got dumped."

Alfred spoke softly. "From what you've said, it sounds like you dumped him."

Well, that made Matthew stop and consider. "I suppose I did, really, didn't I." He tried, unsuccessfully, to gain some satisfaction from the fact. "Huh."

"Well done you," said Alfred, raising his spoon and grinning. Matthew stared at him, then breathed out heavily as he tapped Alfred's spoon with his own.

"Cheers, I suppose." Matthew sighed again, threw his spoon into his almost empty ice cream tub, and ran a hand wearily through his messy hair. He felt so lost and empty with these thoughts of Francis running through his head. "I really thought he liked me."

Alfred spoke decisively. "Of course he liked you."

Matthew scoffed. "If anything, he just liked my ass."

"Well, you do have a nice ass."

Matthew laughed, then tried again to glare. "Stop it. It's not funny."

Alfred just shrugged, smiling. "You know, maybe - and I'm just putting this out there, so don't get all pissed off - but maybe he really did like you, Matt. Maybe you were different to all those other guys he dated. You are pretty damn special, you know. Maybe he saw that."

Matthew felt a brief warmth in his chest, then nodded. "Thanks, Al. But I heard all I need to hear. Francis doesn't have relationships - he has sex. And there's nothing wrong with that. It's my fault for thinking it was something it wasn't."

Alfred shook his head. "I've told you this a hundred times, but you're too damn nice, man."

Matthew ignored that. "But you know the worst thing? The absolute worst thing about this whole stupid situation?" Alfred looked at him silently, and Matthew had to swallow heavily before he could continue. "It's too late. I'm already completely in love with him."

Matthew suddenly felt sick. Because it was true. He was in love with Francis: he was in love, and it was over. He was in love, and he would never see Francis again. Never smile teasingly at him through lowered lashes; never brush his hand against Francis' arm across a colourful patisserie counter. Never again hear that smooth, lilting voice call him 'darling,' never feel those warm, soft, insistent lips on his. Matthew dropped the ice cream onto the ground, leant his elbows on his knees, and put his head in his hands. It was over. 'It' had never even really happened. This whole week had been a game to Francis, one of thousands he'd played before – just a way to get Matthew into bed. But to Matthew, it had been the best week of his life.

Matthew felt Alfred's hand rest lightly on his shoulder, and silently thanked his usually oblivious brother for knowing exactly when his words weren't wanted. Matthew just squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, then slowly lay down on the couch. "I'm going to sleep now," he managed to choke out through a tight throat. "I want to sleep forever."

"Okay, Matt." Alfred gently patted his shoulder. "I'll be right here, okay?"

Matthew nodded into a cushion. "Thanks, Al."

After an entire miserable, sleepless night and a whole wretched day of bad food, worse television, and encompassing despair, Matthew fell asleep almost instantly. He did not hear Alfred turn off the TV, did not feel the blanket placed over him. And he did not notice the text messages his brother sent and received on the couch beside him.

How is your brother?

passed out from ice and coke overdose

ice-cream, coca-cola

Oh. Poor bloke.

i know, hes gonna put on like ten pounds

Like you can talk.

you love it

Oh yes, Alfred, I love the way you're developing the incredible skill and highly enviable ability of balancing a beer can on your stomach.

yeah keep texting baby your getting me hot

I sincerely hope you are being as sarcastic as I was. I'll ask again. How is Matthew? Will he be all right?

dont know, hes real sad, i think he actually loved this francis guy

Francis? The man he was seeing?

yeah, french bastard, francis bonnefoy, baker or some shit

arthur?

arthur are you there?

helloooooo?

arthur if you dont text back im gonna call you

asdfgshjsfjkah

…huh? arthur are you alright?

Alfred, be a dear and go book me a hotel room.

what? why?

Because I am not going to crash on your brother's couch like some sort of unwashed Australian backpacker. I'll be up in the morning - I'll ring you when I arrive.

your so random arthur. hey what are you wearing?

arthur?

Constant, heavy, wind-swept rain pelted relentlessly at the front window, turning the usually warm and bright room dark and cold. The entire dull, grey afternoon seemed to seep into the patisserie, the unfamiliar atmosphere mirroring Francis' own state of misery. He leant against the front counter, chin in his hand, staring blankly at the far wall. This was the first rain in a week. The first rain since that startling, unexpected, glorious Monday morning when a shy, gorgeous accountant had sheltered in his store from the weather. The rain that day was beautiful: it had brought Matthew into Francis' life. The rain today was bitter, and lonely, and brought him nothing but despair.

Francis was still amazed at how much could change in seven days – it was hard to believe it had only been a week. One week in which Francis had changed more than he ever thought possible. One week in which he had gained hope and love and happiness and lost it all. Matthew was light and air and joy; without him, the colour had gone from the world. Now everything just seemed, well, dull. Dull and grey. Francis sighed and turned his eyes to the door, grateful for the lack of customers and silently begging them to stay away. He was not doing his best work today. Francis suddenly remembered that stupid family legend he had told Matthew by the river a few days earlier, and realised he'd had it all wrong. It wasn't love that destroyed talent. It was heartbreak.

Some part of him still blamed his friends. Francis had immediately stormed from the party on Saturday night, devastated and furious, determined never to speak to Gilbert or Antonio ever again. 'Never again' turned out to be little more than a day, however, since Francis had finally answered one of Gilbert's constant phone calls early that morning.

"Uh, hi, man."

"Hello."

"How ya going?"

"Fine."

"Uh, good. Good. Thanks for the personally monogrammed Gucci wallet. Sorry I didn't open it in front of Matthew. I know you only gave it to me to look impressive in front of him, and I'm probably gonna lose it or something, but it's still a pretty awesome gift."

"Yes. It is."

Silence. "Man, I'm really sorry."

Francis sighed. "I know, Gil. You were just doing what you always do. What we always do. It was just… incredibly unfortunate timing."

"If it makes you feel any better, Roderich's angry as all hell with me. That's probably got more to do with the lap dance though… Anyway. Francis, I… look, you're pretty awesome, you know? I'm sorry for ragging on ya. You do what you want to do, and, well, who you want to do, and that's awesome too. You're my best friend, and I just want you to be happy. So if you like Matthew… if you love him… then you'd damn well better go after him. He's one hell of a lucky guy."

"Oh Gil, I…"

"Don't you dare get sappy on me, man. This conversation never happened, get it? I know where you live!"

Seconds after Gilbert hung up, Francis finally answered a call from Antonio.

"Francis! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, I wasn't thinking, I'm an idiot! You're my best friend in the world and please don't hate me and I don't know what I'd do if you never spoke to me again and…"

"Antonio, calm down. We're cool."

"Oh. Ohhhh! Oh, thank God, I… okay. Okay cool. I have to go now, Lovino has the day off and we're going shopping for golf clubs and ponies. You go after Matthew!"

Francis had spent the rest of the day contemplating his friend's advice. He'd rung Matthew's number exactly thirty-three times without any response. Maybe he should just turn up at Matthew's door – but what if Matthew ignored him? What if he wasn't even there? Francis' stomach turned unpleasantly. What if this was it? What if he never saw his sweet, funny, perfect Mathieu again, all because of a foolish misunderstanding? He could not bear the thought. Francis listened to the rain echoing his sadness against the window, then almost jumped when the little bell jingled over the front door. Francis looked up at the two men entering the patisserie, began a greeting, then stopped short. One of the men - the tall, well-built blond - looked incredibly similar to Matthew, though slightly less handsome of course. And the other…

"Merde!" Francis quickly ducked to avoid the bright pink cupcake that hurtled towards his head. It smashed into pieces against the wall behind him.

"You wine-swilling, snail-eating, bed-hopping BASTARD!"

Oh shit, merde, no, how, where, why, oh God WHY… "Arthur!" Francis cried out in a mixture of false delight and genuine horror from where he crouched behind the counter. "What a pleasant surprise! What hole did you crawl out from, my ros-bif friend?"

Arthur ignored the question. "Still playing the same tired games, Francis old boy?"

"...calling me old..." Francis muttered, raising his head slightly behind the counter. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Arthur's face was twisted in fury. He looked exactly as Francis remembered. "Never you mind that. This time, darling, you chose the wrong guy to play with. THIS time, YOU'RE the one who's fucked. With a ridged rolling pin. WITHOUT lube."

"But Arthur, darling, you always liked that." Francis ducked again. This time it was an entire lemon meringue pie that splattered spectacularly against the wall. "Oui, d'accord, sorry, okay." Francis stood slowly, his hands raised in surrender. "Arthur, my dear, did you really track me down simply to attack me with pastry? It seems a little excessive. We were together for three days. You dumped me via billboard. Using my money."

The man by Arthur's side looked suddenly terrified. "You what?"

Arthur just shouted. "You deserved it, frog! You slept with fifteen sailors! And FILMED it!"

Francis put his head in his hands. He really wished people would stop mentioning that particular episode of his life... Why was he even dealing with this right now? "Arthur, you told me it was over!"

The tall blond laughed. "Oh, he tells me that every day. You're not supposed to believe him." Then he suddenly stopped laughing, his eyes going wide. "Wait a minute - you know each other?"

Arthur rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Blimey, you're quick. Alfred, meet Francis – an ex-boyfriend, and a right bloody wanker."

Alfred raised his hands to his chest, his expression horrified. "Arthur, you slept with my brother's boyfriend? That's, like, incest!"

Francis let out a deep breath, understanding dawning. "Alfred? Matthew's brother?"

"Yeah, and MY boyfriend, and he can kick your arse because he's bigger than you and he plays football!" Arthur had the good sense to look slightly embarrassed after this remark. Alfred looked quite pleased.

Francis rolled his eyes. At least it was a relief to know that Arthur was here on Matthew's behalf, and not because of some three day affair almost ten years earlier. "Arthur, you sound like a fourteen year old girl. Congratulations on the win last week, Alfred."

Alfred grinned. "Thanks, dude. Wait, no. I'm angry at you! Matt's moving to Alaska and becoming a trucker because of you! I SHOULD kick your ass!"

"Alaska? Trucker?"

"Do it, Alfred! You hold him down, I'll punch!"

Francis raised his hands again, desperately seeking some sort of foothold in this mad, rapid, confusing turn of events. His little shit of a British ex was standing in his patisserie, along with Matthew's football star brother, and apparently they were lovers. This was too much to deal with on a Monday afternoon. Francis reached under the counter for a tray of pastries. "Honestly, my dears, are we in primary school here? Can we not sit and talk like adults? Here, have an éclair."

Alfred's eyes lit up as he hurried forward. "Ooh, éclair!"

Arthur threw an arm across Alfred's chest. "No!" He glared at Francis. "Keep those pervy things away from innocent American eyes. Alfred, have a cupcake."

Alfred cheerfully took the red velvet cupcake Arthur handed him. "Ooh, cupcake!"

"Now he's taken care of, you can explain yourself, frog." Arthur placed his hands on his hips. His styled sandy-blond hair, his narrowed green eyes, his perfectly-pressed tweed suit – what had Francis ever seen in this little queen?

Francis folded his arms and glared back across the counter. "I do not have to explain myself to you, Arthur. I've done nothing that deserves an explanation."

Arthur scoffed loudly. "Excuse me? Through your typical, philandering ways you've set in action a chain of events which have led to me standing here, talking to you - something I'm sure you remember I swore I would NEVER do again. You've caused Alfred and I several very early morning tearful phone calls from Matthew. You've made Alfred run out the front door at five a.m shouting something about his brother moving to Antarctica. But most of all, you've broken the heart of one of the nicest, kindest, most genuinely decent blokes I've ever met. And I think that deserves an explanation."

Francis dropped all attempts at bravado after the mention of tearful phone calls and broken hearts. He was completely distraught at the thought of Matthew torn up like that. He stared at the counter, at the tray of ridiculous éclairs, and felt like smashing them to the ground. "Is Matthew all right?" he asked softly.

Alfred looked up from his cupcake, his expression gravely stern. "No. No, he's not."

Francis felt sick. "He won't answer my calls."

Alfred shrugged. "He put his phone in the freezer."

"What am I supposed to do?" Francis ran his hands through his hair, let out a frustrated sigh, and tried not to kick the wall. He did not even care now who he was speaking to, barely noticed these two men in front of him; he thought only of his darling Matthew and how much he missed him and wanted him and… "He won't listen to me. He won't let me explain. He overheard all these things that mean nothing, he thinks I do not want to be with him, he thinks I was using him, and..." Francis paused to breathe, to calm the overwhelming anxiety in his chest. "And nothing could be further from the truth."

Both men regarded Francis suspiciously. Then Alfred spoke. "Okay. First of all, this cupcake is incredible."

Francis couldn't even affect his usual proud, polished routine. He just mumbled, "Thanks."

"Now," continued Alfred, drawing himself up to his full height, his apparent attempt at intimidation ruined by the red icing on his lips and fingers. "You're saying that you do like Matt? As more than a fling? As more than a trick?"

"As more than anything." Francis looked Alfred in the eye and spoke with every ounce of certainty he possessed. "I'm completely in love with him."

Alfred and Arthur glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. Arthur turned his still-suspicious eyes back on Francis. "You? In love?"

Francis shrugged. "What do you want me to say? How do you wish me to explain this? I've spent my entire life not even realising I was searching for something. I've made mistakes, and I've had fun, and I won't apologise for it. But in Matthew, I found everything I never knew I was looking for. He is the only person to ever make me feel like this. I love him, and I miss him, and I will do anything to convince him he is the most wonderfully unique person I have ever known."

Again, Alfred looked at Arthur. "What do you think?"

"I don't trust him," hissed Arthur. "I still think we should kick his arse."

Francis did not even know why he was explaining this to them. Maybe because it was easier than explaining it to himself. "It does not matter if you believe me." Francis closed his eyes and sighed. "None of this matters if I can't say it to Matthew. If only I could get him to listen…"

"All right, Frenchy, here's the deal." Alfred finished his cupcake, licked his fingers, then pointed at Francis. "I'll get Matt to talk to you, but I've got a couple of conditions."

Francis was caught between gasping in exhilaration and snorting in derision. How tiresome – this was like some sort of medieval courtship ritual. But if it meant he could somehow speak to Matthew… Francis gritted his teeth. "Do go on."

Alfred counted off on his fingers. "One – if you upset Matthew, I will kick your ass. Two – if you upset Arthur, oh boy, I will KICK your ASS. Three…" Alfred paused for a moment and licked his fingers again. "I'll take a carton of those cupcakes."

Francis rolled his eyes. "This talk of 'ass-kicking' is growing a little tedious, my dear. Regardless…" Francis nodded, the chance to see Matthew and explain everything too much to risk. Anticipation fired through his nerves and hope rose in his chest. "It is a deal, mon ami."

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#la patisserie de la rose chapter 5

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stormwithskiiin-a · 6 years ago

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So you read the thing- this meme of a blog hit 200 in just a month. I got some mushy shit to say before we get into More Mushy Shit TM.

A Blurb Of My Supervillain Origin

So when I was 7, I remember seeing a commercial for Kingdom Hearts and immediately telling my mom I wanted it because hello Disney. Even though my parents had money out the ass, they wanted me to learn responsibility and how to work for things I want young and she told me I had to get the money together myself. So I gathered up all my stuff I didn’t like anymore, sold it and take all my Gameboy and DS games to Gamestop and exchanged it for Re:COM on PS2. It took me a few years to finish because I was a smol child (who was definitely gay for Larxene wheeze), but I knew the series was going to stick with me. I played through all the games I could and I started my very first RP blog and it was for Larxene. I remade it and stuck around for a bit, but ended up spending all my free time on the main blog I RPed on. A lot of shitty things happened to me in that big fandom (not even just RP shit, real ass shit) and it scared me off from writing for a long time. But then KH3 came out and I knew I wanted to revisit this electric queen again. And now here I am and I can safely say I made the best choice possible making this blog and engaging with you guys. You all have made me smile, laugh, and meme so hard and I love every single one of you so dearly, but I wanna shout out some OGs who I interact with and then the people I stalk from afar.

The OGs

@slowbladed - Oh PT, what can I say that I haven’t already? You’ve made me laugh so hard I was driven to tears, given me the Gud Marlar Content TM, and been so supportive. I can safely say that I know I can count on you to be there for a laugh, a rant, send me cursed content, or to listen to me drunkenly rave about how much I love my muse at 2 AM. Every conversation we have brightens my day. You are so sweet, talented, and hilarious and I would definitely take a bullet for you.

@heartspliit - Swann you literally get me laughing every single time I log on. Every time you post anything, Larxene wants to fight Shiro and you have embraced my memery wholeheartedly. I have so much love for you and your muse and every conversation we have lifts up my mood so much!

@ofbluequeen - AKA how I spell An Utter Babe. I love the threads we have going and I love just talking with you on discord so much! Also playing Overwatch with you is a whole ass blast and we Have to do it again. You are so sweet and your blog is a whole ass unf.

@eigona - You were one of the first people I talked to OOC on this blog and I don’t regretti that spaghetti at all. You are SUCH a sweetheart and I love the amount of love you pour into all of your muses. Catch me stalking your blog forever.

@fulgurae - Ivy you are SUCH a babe. I could talk about this garbage human we both write forever and I can’t wait for you to get your Aqua all booted because I’m gonna harass you more than I already do. You are one of my fellow Pikathots and you warm my heart so much you funky french canadian you.

@lafemmedefoudre - OFC I MUST PUT THE PIKATHOTS NEXT TO EACH OTHER. Katie I utterly adore you and your husband is right you are adorable You Can’t Change My Mind. You are such a sweet, talented person and I’m so honored to be able to talk with you.

@azaleatides - You talented bean you. I love how savage our muses are to each other, every reply is a whole ass trip. But you are soooo nice and I know you are going to go far in life. You hang in there you beautiful human.

@heartvortex - Lucky I simply adore you with all my being. We have to RP just straight up facts I am so excited to explore this energy we have between our muses already. Meanwhile you have already rushed to come comfort me and make sweet posts about me and I can’t tell you how much it means to me. I love you ever so dearly and am greatly looking forward to hanging with you more.

@sunsreign - You are SUCH a babe and a half. Every day you send me the nicest things and make my days easier. I know we keep saying we have to interact AND WE WILL I swear it into existence now. You are an actual ray of sunshine and I can’t express how much Pure Love I have for you.

@dragonaea - Artemis I love you so damn much. You are such a darling and the conversations we have always put a smile on my face. Not to mention you are INSANELY good at writing and designing shit and OOF. You hang in there, babe I’m always here for you

@illusionstm - Casey.................. I will send you wholesome friendship memes forever. You deserve all the love and support and I give you all of mine. Such an amazing blog run by such an amazing person I’m flattered to be in your company.

@flamereign - Your blog is SO friggin amazing. I really, really love our thread rn and I can’t wait to write more stuff about the AWESOME dynamic we’ve already discussed between our muses. Other than you have been nothing but sweet to me and I appreciate hearing from you so much.

Every Post You Make, I’ll Be Watchin’ You

#♔⁛ ( ᵍᵃʳᵇᵃᵍᵉ ᵒᵖⁱⁿⁱᵒⁿ ) OOC #[ BOOM SHAKKA LAKKA ]#[ CEL IS BURSTING WITH LOVE AND AFFECTION ]#[ i didnt even bother w a fancy graphic i wanted it POSTED BEFORE WORK ]

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tmnt-veelicious · 6 years ago

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Across the Stars - Ch.13

... This chapter was supposed to be way longer. And yet, here it is. I feel like I had to leave this as it was. I won’t lie - that chapter deals with a lot of personal stuff. When I had first finished writing the last part, I actually got a panic attack that night because, oh boi, it really hit close to home :’) Anyway, that’ll probably mean that chapter 14 will come soon ! I already know what I have to write so that will be easy-peasy -u- There’s some French dialogue in this, but I translated it. It’s some heavy French Canadian speak at some points so google translate wouldn’t be able to translate it accurately x’D !!!

First Chapter --> HERE Previous Chapter --> HERE Next Chapter --> HERE

Winter was already on its way out, the temperature on the brink of lightly cold and pleasantly warm. It's been some weeks since Leo's 'protection plan' was going on, each turtles taking turns on keeping an eye on Vee and April whenever they had to come home late from work. Tonight the artist was the only one walking, her roomate having a day off. The stroll was as eventless as usual, her only cue that one of the mutants was following her being that she could spot a form getting from one building top to another. And also she was speaking on the phone with him. ''So, what project am I forbidding you to work on, all thanks to Leo's awesome plan?'' She could hear Donnie's snicker at the other end of the line. ''Oh don't say that, you know he only has good intentions. … And for your information, I was working on the toaster.'' ''Again? It's like the third time in not even a month.'' ''I know! … I think Mikey is letting his cooking creativity take the best of him; you can't heat pizza bagels in an upright toaster.'' ''Even when it's laid to its side?'' ''You're just asking for more trouble,'' laughed the terrapin. ''They'll just fly off to the floor when it's done.'' ''Point taken!'' A long sigh escaped her as she crossed a street, the streetlights shining down on her path as her boyfriend still remained in the shadows. ''… I wish I could be walking by your side,'' echoed Donatello's voice through her phone. She was surprised at first to hear that, somehow wondering if he had read in the depths of her mind. A small smile got to her lips, quickly calculating the remaining time until reaching her home. ''I know, Don, I wish too. But we're almost there, don't worry about it.'' ''Oh, before you get inside, can you wait for my cue? … I have something special.'' ''And April is involved?'' asked Vee, amused. ''She was, in a certain way, but she won't be at your place tonight.'' That lifted the woman's spirits, knowing she'd get to spend the evening alone with the mutant. And now she was eager to see what was awaiting her! She finally arrived upon her apartment building, already making her way inside until reaching her entry door. She waited some minutes before knocking gently on the door to signal Donnie that she was there – as they weren't speaking on the phone anymore. The artist could hear some footsteps on the other side, guessing he was probably setting some things. Then the moment of truth came, the door finally opening, large enough for her to enter without revealing the mutant's presence. ''Madam,'' jokingly greeted the terrapin as Vee was in. She instantly noticed how the lights were off, except for the faint glow of various candles way ahead in the living room area. Her smile wouldn't fade, Donnie taking her spring coat off of her and setting it to the side, next leaving a hand at the small of her back as they made their way to the next scene. Many candles were placed around, giving a focus on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. On it was placed a bottle of white wine with two glasses and a plate of sushis. Vee showed a smirk as she looked at her boyfriend. ''Is this a date?'' she asked, reminiscent of that time on the roof some months ago. ''Only if you want it to be,'' answered the other, playing her game. The woman filled the wine glasses, handing one to the mutant. ''Why do you keep bringing wine? I remember you saying you don't even drink that.'' ''White wine is less worse than red, so I don't mind,'' explained Donnie, taking a sip before he continued: ''Also there's another bottle in the fridge so we're not done for tonight.'' Vee faked being shocked. ''Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?'' ''Yes, I can be fun sometimes, how surprising is that!'' She lightly slapped his arm, bringing a small chortle out of the other. The evening couldn't get any better afterward, hilarity never escaping them and wine flowing. They were already at the half of the second bottle that they found themselves in eachother's arms – or mostly Donnie sitting on the couch as Vee was seated in his lap, facing him. She couldn't help her smirk as she lightly bit her lip, tracing imaginary patterns on his torso. ''Are you a scientist? ... Because I'd love to do you on a table periodically,'' she blabbered, lovesick. ''Hey, oh, that's my job to say cheesy liners like that!'' laughed the other, unconsciously laying a hand on her hip, bringing her body closer to his. ''What are you gonna do, oh mighty ninja warrior? You're as drunk as me anyway,'' smirked Vee. He returned the same smile, finishing what was left in his glass before putting it aside, removing the woman's right after. His hands easily found a new place at the lowest part of the human's back, soon petting her skin. ''First I will destabilize,'' he started, his tone low and seductive. ''You'll be begging for mercy soon enough and that's when I'll strike.'' He took her scent in the crook of her neck, travelling higher so he could leave kisses along her jaw. Every sensations were amplified when drunk, their skins numb and yet so sensitive. Vee couldn't retain her moan, her hold slightly tightening around the mutant's shoulders. She felt the world spin, nuzzling her lover's cheek in hopes of finding his lips. A low churr rose from the turtle, smiling once more as he could clearly feel the woman's need. ''Look at you; so hot and eager, just for me,'' he murmured. ''You're mine, all mine,'' he added, cupping her ass, forever loving her form. ''Don...,'' gasped Vee, her body exploding in a wave of shivers all over her skin. Their lips finally met, their passion already in place. When sober, Donatello would always wonder how he could have ever become so addicted to her, but now everything made sense. This euphoria and need he was currently going through, it was all a thrill he knew he'd never get tired of. Every moves and sounds she made could only fuel his very core, always demanding for more. Her shirt was soon thrown away, Vee easily taking control as she started grinding against the other, panting dued to her growing lust. The mutant was about to remove her bra that a loud sound stopped them both, their eyes instantly diverting to the coffee table. Vee's phone was ringing, indicating that someone was calling. Donnie was frowning, Vee was laughing. ''Let it be,'' she said. Oh no, drunk Donnie was a confident Donnie. And he would not take that kind of shit from anybody. He lunged for the phone, keeping the woman against him. ''Donnie, stop!'' warned Vee, still smiling from amusement. The turtle took the call in, putting it on speaker. ''Whoever's calling, you better have a goddamn good reason,'' he started. ''Véro?'' answered a woman's voice. Vee instantly jumped, her eyes as big as plates. She grabbed the phone out of the other's hand, already switching to her native tongue. ''Maman?'' Oh shit, Donatello realized, that's her mom. The human stayed seated where she was, trying to get down from the high clouds she was on. ''Depuis quand tu m'appelles aussi tard?'' (Since when you're calling me this late?) she started. ''Il est à peine 8h30, j'trouve pas que c'est si tard.'' (It's barely 8:30, I don't think it's that much late.) ''Peu importe, qu'est-ce qu'il y a?'' (Whatever, what's the matter?) asked Vee, somehow annoyed. ''J'veux juste prendre de tes nouvelles. Ça fait au moins un mois qu'on s'est pas parlé! Et c'est qui qui a répondu au téléphone? T'es avec qui?'' (I just want to get some news about you. It's been at least a month since we last spoke! And who answered the phone. Who are you with?). Her mother's tone sounded somehow impatient, demanding to be answered without delay. Donnie couldn't catch everything that was said, but he did recognize some words or two, easily guessing that she was asking Vee who she was with. ''J'suis avec mon chum...''(I'm with my boyfriend) answered Vee with a sigh. ''Quoi?! Depuis quand t'as un chum? T'as tu fait ça sur un coup de tête encore? C'est quoi, tu veux te donner une autre raison de rester là?'' (What?! Since when you have a boyfriend? You did that impulsively? You want to give yourself another reason to stay there?) ''De quoi tu parles?'' (What are you talking about?) added the artist, visibly angered at that point. ''T'es si contre le fait que j’habite ici que peu importe ce que je fais, c'est mal?'' (You're so against my choice to live here that whatever I do, it's bad?) ''Oui! Tu l'sais que c'était une criss de mauvaise idée que tu partes. Tu l'vois ben que t’arrive pas à trouver de l'emploi dans ce que tu veux. Arrête de vivre dans un rêve inutile.'' (Yes! You know it was a dumb idea to leave. You know you're not able to find a job in your domain. Stop living in this useless dream.) As soon as he saw pools of tears invade Vee's eyes, Donnie couldn't stop frowning, taking back the phone. ''Hey, hi. Name's Donnie,'' he started, not even caring that the woman was now looking at him with fear. ''Are you aware that your daughter is currently crying?'' ''Uh, I- no,'' answered the other, taken by surprise by the sudden change in voice and language. ''Hand me back Véro, I-'' ''No, no, listen ma'am,'' cut Donatello, firm. ''I may have not fully understand what you both just said, but I know enough about that stupid argument to tell you that it needs to stop. Your daughter is talented and has such potential. Why won't you just let her do her things? She's an adult, for crying out loud!'' ''You don't know anything about any of this,'' spoke back Vee's mother. ''I'm trying to protect her by making sure that she has a stable future.'' ''Financially, maybe, but emotionally, that's pure bullshit. She's been having panic attacks all because you don't want to believe in her.'' ''Donnie, stop!'' pleaded Vee, trying to contain her sobs. ''Wha- I-'' started the other woman. ''I'm glad she decided to move here,'' cut Donnie once more. ''She won't have to live with people who want to make decisions in her own place. She won't have to live with people who are ashamed of their own daughter.'' ''Donnie!'' said Vee once more, gritting her teeth. She yanked the phone back, promptly ending the call and then throwing the device far from their position. A loud crash was heard, but Vee did not care, her eyes poorly meeting the mutant's, her vision drowned with tears. He thought she would scream, hit him, anything! But he was rather met with a renewed kiss, strong and passionate. Vee couldn't stop her crying, but this time she knew she wasn't bawling her eyes out due to complete sadness. She was madly in love, invaded by strong emotions. Her body wouldn't stop shaking, hungry for his touch... Donatello was quick to comply, his hands back in action as he proceeded to remove the woman's bra. He couldn't help feeling protective over her, wanting to shield her from any harm – may it be in the form of words or physical. He did not mind her tears, knowing Vee was probably going through a lot right now. He wanted her to empty her mind, let it all out. When she pleaded to be nearer, both soon disappeared into the artist's room, clothes scattered on the floor. Alone in the world, forever emprisoned in eachother's arms. They wanted to spend eternity this way... *** When Donnie woke up the next morning, he couldn't help his slight frown, eyes still closed, as he felt nothing but emptiness beside him in bed. He dared crack open an eye, glancing around rapidly; he was truly alone, the faint sound of music finding its way to his ears, coming from the kitchen area, he supposed. Stretching with a light growl, he finally decided to get up, only deciding to wear his underwear and his glasses, next heading towards the sound. His body felt strangely numb after last night. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation - he liked it in fact – and everything kept playing again and again in his mind. It all seemed like a strange dream, remembering Vee's tears, her moans, her lust. It didn't take long for the mutant to notice how lost she had been in her feelings, revealing them entirely to him as she rarely did... Donatello stopped when he reached the kitchen, his eyes instantly falling on the woman seated near the table, occupied. She was only wearing a large shirt, her hair caught up in a bun. Dark circles could be seen under her eyes, but it never tossed away the fact that she looked radiant, beautiful, divine, to him. He did frown when he noticed her center of interest: an alto saxophone. She was carefully cleaning around the keys with cotton swabs and rubbing alcohol, ever so patient and precise. ''Wha-...'' started Donnie, perplexed. Vee looked up, showing a small smile as she noticed the other. ''Bon matin,'' she greeted sweetly. Her tone shot right through his heart, finding her ever so cute. He finally moved and took a seat, observing the instrument with a renewed frown. ''… Since when you have a saxophone?'' he asked. ''I've been playing that instrument for way over ten years. It's the first one I learned in school, in fact.'' His brain had troubles connecting the dots. ''Then why have I never seen you play it?'' Vee snickered, still cleaning: ''When you have close neighbours, it's sadly harder to practice at full capacity. Unless I want people to bang against the walls and floor! For now I simply practice in silence so I don't lose my fingering.'' He couldn't help tracing around the bell's opening with the tip of his finger, fascinated by the instrument's form. ''You could practice at the lair!'' he suggested. The woman looked up to him, showing a playful, yet annoyed look. ''No thanks. First it'd be annoying for your family and I'm unfortunately shy when playing the sax in solo.'' ''Oh come on, I'd like to hear you play!'' added the turtle. Vee simply stuck out her tongue, returning to her task. She did catch Donnie's smile, amused by her behavior. ''Are there any other instruments you know how to play that I'm not aware of?'' he questionned next. The artist puffed a small chuckle: ''I can play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on a violin, I'm somehow decent on a drum and I can toot some notes on a trombone. I also want to learn to play the guitar and the cello. Is that enough? Oh and I learned the piano by myself, in case you were wondering.'' ''You're insane,'' commented Donatello, still smiling. ''… I wish I had hands like yours, I'd love to learn to play the piano. All I can do is hit two or three notes at the same time with one finger.'' Vee couldn't stop her laughter this time, accompanied by snorts. She kept her focus on the saxophone, not noticing the other who was now looking at the cracked cellphone on the table. When Vee threw it away last night, it had cracked the screen completely, making it impossible to see anything. The turtle grabbed the device, observing it carefully in order to see if there was any other broken parts. The woman quickly glanced at him, finally sighing as she diverted her gaze back to the instrument. ''I can fix this,'' said Donnie. ''… Sure, whatever,'' mumbled Vee. This time he frowned, setting the phone down. He knew something wasn't right. ''Tell me everything,'' he started. The human stopped, looking up to her boyfriend with a confused look. ''What do you mean?'' ''I feel like you've told me so little about what's happening between you and your family. Sure, I know the big lines, but there has to be more! … The way your mother spoke last night - her tone - I feel like the fact she doesn't approve your life choices is not the only thing going on.'' Where to begin? … Her eyes shifted around for a while, trying to think. She forced a small laugh, her smile somehow fake. ''… It's so weird, I feel like I can only speak about that in French. The words won't come easily, this is so dumb.'' One of Donnie's hands got to hers, holding it gently as his thumb caressed her skin. ''… You don't need to rush anything. I just want to know – I need to know. I want to understand and make you feel better, if you want me to.'' His warm smile renewed Vee's, feeling much more confident. ''Let me brew coffee, that will give me time to find my words.'' He watched her get up, first setting her machine on as she next got two mugs out. Music was still playing on the radio, this time the tune of A Ship Without A Sail by Ella Fitzgerald starting. Vee froze for a moment, patiently listening to the lyrics. She cursed life's timing for bringing this tune up, knowing it would perfectly sum up what she was going to talk about. Still alone, still at sea. Still there's no one to care for me. When there's no hand to hold my hand Life is a loveless tale For a ship without a sail. She fiddled with the mugs, unable to decide where to place them on the counter. Her back still facing the table, she began to talk, knowing not looking at Donatello would help. ''I'm a mistake. I wasn't planned and that broke my family apart. My dad left my mom as soon as I was born and ever since we lived at the brink of poverty. I won't say I grew up without being loved, far from it, but I was often forgotten. … Since I'm very young I've always had this huge imagination, this need to escape reality and be somewhere else.'' Coffee was ready, her hand shaking as she tried to lift the pot. She was soon stopped by the mutant who had gotten up, now behind her. He filled the mugs with one hand, his other arm now around the woman's waist, keeping her near. Her voice was now slightly shaking as she continued: ''I was a child prodigy, excelling at school. I learned to read faster than other kids, which brought me to read many books and learn way more things than any children my age. I matured so fast, at some point it was scary... I was a freak, a goody-two-shoes that never smiled. My parents hated this. My family was often putting me down whenever I was talking about complicated subjects because, in their minds, a kid could never know about such things; kids are supposed to be dumb and clueless about life in general. … I wasn't and that scared them.'' She felt Donnie nuzzle the top of her head, now fully embracing her from behind. She knew he must be relating to her, his intelligence easily over-throwing his brothers'. ''Whenever I would have actual questions, I would be mocked with 'If you're so intelligent, why don't you know about that?', and so on. I was bullied by so many people because of my way of thinking. No one understood my mind, no one took time to actually speak to me and know what were my needs. I had to learn so many things on my own. … Hell, I even paid all my college on my own. I did everything on my own. As soon as I turned eighteen, I was an adult and that meant that no one would ever care or pay anything for me anymore.'' She was shaking so much at this point, she thought she would explode... ''My parents had such high hopes for me. They wanted me to get a prestigious job, exhaust my brain for something that I knew would never make me happy. … They were so angry when they saw that I wanted to be a musician, an artist and even a writer. They thought my intelligence meant that I would excel in every spheres, while my greatest strengths were only found in arts. … I could finally be at peace when creating, alone and free. I was finally smiling...'' A soft hiccup escaped her, trying so hard to calm her emotions. ''I left my country because I was alone. I left because everything there made me feel so unimportant. I left because I was mocked, ridiculed for something I wanted to devote my life to. My mother was often putting me down, my father barely spoke to me. I left because they thought I was a coward, an anxious mess that loved to play the victim card – when it's clearly not the case. I know my emotions are strong at times only because I keep them inside for so long! They explode, they destroy me like a crushing wave. It's exhausting and it's killing me.'' Her eyes burned, her tears warm. ''I always have to excuse myself for anything I do, I always have to watch myself because whatever I do, it's always a mistake. I'm a mistake, I shouldn't even be born.'' A sob got out this time, Donnie quick to try to calm her, his stance slowly swaying from one foot to the other, trying to be soothing. ''Don't say that, baby, you have so much worth,'' he whispered. ''You're wonderful, incredible even. Don't ever bring yourself down, you're so strong...'' ''I- I just want to forget the pain. I want to forget everything. I hate my brain.'' The mutant shushed her gently, finally turning her around so they could face one another. Vee's eyes were red, forever pouring rivers of tears. He tried to erase them with his thumbs, his traits always so calm, somehow translating his love. ''… Vee, you have no idea how much you were meant for me,'' he started. ''You are not a mistake, you were meant to be here, right in this place and moment. Don't you see?'' He got a hold of her left wrist, bringing the tattoo on her inner forearm up to his lips, kissing it tenderly. ''You are here for a reason...'' This time she did not stop her crying, feeling this strange relief from this sentence alone. Especially when said by him... Vee's body sticked closer to the mutant's, her face hidden against his chest, somehow ashamed of her outburst. Although emptying everything simply felt so good... Soon enough she couldn't help feeling tired, her sobs turning into sad whimpers, closing her eyes as she felt the other's hands at the back of her head and her shoulders, caressing in a soothing motion. ''Je t'aime... Je t'aime tellement,'' she sighed, nuzzling his skin, forever in love. Donnie's heart clenched, understanding those words. He did not care for the woman's tears that had soaked his skin, he did not care about the coffee getting cold – those words, right there, were the most important thing. ''Moi aussi...,'' he spoke back, somehow glad he could finally say something to her in French without fear. Vee's soft gasp and small smile was not missed, a small laugh trying to rise, always amused to hear him try to speak in her native tongue. She only needed to look up to him and lift herself at the tip of her toes for them to finally meet in a kiss, tender and loving. Donatello's hands cupped her cheeks, erasing the remaining tears with his thumbs as they were still lip-locked. His every instincts told him to be gentle, delicate, en amour. He'd give everything in his life only for Vee to be happy and safe... At once, he instantly knew he wanted her forever by his side.

#chapter #writing #tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt donatello #fanfic #fancharacter #oc #selfinsert #fanfiction #donatello x oc #donatello x selfinsert

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johnboothus · 3 years ago

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Next Round: Distilling Terroir With Westland Single Malt Whiskey

On this episode of “Next Round,” host Zach Geballe chats with Matt Hofman, co-founder and managing director of Westland Distillery in Seattle. Hofman recounts the history of the distillery, and why he chose to focus on single malt whiskey rather than bourbon. Hofman claims that the Pacific Northwest grows some of the best barley on earth. Hofman also explains how and why the Pacific Northwest serves as Westland’s inspiration in capturing terroir.

Plus, listeners will learn about how Quercus garryana, the native oak species used to age Westland’s products, differs from the American white oak that houses bourbon. Listeners will also get a glimpse into experimentation that is occurring at distillery involving research at Washington State University. Finally, Hofman details the distillery’s farm project, which is aimed at furthering the distillery’s connection to agriculture.

Tune in and visit the Westland Distillery website to learn more.

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Or Check out the Conversation Here

Zach Geballe: In Seattle, Washington, I’m Zach Geballe and this is a VinePair “Next Round” conversation. We’re bringing you these conversations in between our regular podcast episodes so we can explore more stories and ideas in the world of drinks. Today, I have the pleasure of joining, in person, as hard as it is to believe, Matt Hofman, who is the co-founder and managing director at Westland Distilling here in Seattle. Matt, thanks so much for your time.

Matt Hofman: Well, thanks. We’re thankful that we’re able to actually have you here in person. Totally forgot how to do this.

Z: It’s true. I hope that this sounds good to you all. There’s background noise, but I figure again, you’ve been hearing us in our sterile home environments for over a year now, so this is a little excursion.

M: Yeah, these are authentic distillery sounds.

Z: Exactly. So let’s actually start with a little history of the distillery. When was Westland founded, and what was the idea behind it? When was it just an idea?

M: Yeah, we were officially founded in 2010. We founded the business in September of 2010 and really started full-scale production in June of 2011. We’ve been in the production of whiskey for 10 years. The core idea behind it has always been very simple, which is to make something that is reflective of place. For us here in the Pacific Northwest in Seattle, what that has meant is American single malt whiskey that is evocative of the Pacific Northwest. A lot of people think that if you’re an American distillery, you should be making bourbon. But actually, we’re a long way away from Kentucky. Literally as far from Kentucky as you can get. This is barley country up here. This is one of the best places to grow barley in the world. We believe at Westland that whiskey should be connected to agriculture. That might sound obvious, but I don’t think actually a lot of other distilleries believe that, but we really do. So, because this place is a great barley-growing part of the world, we believe we should be making single malt.

Z: I want to get into this idea of single malt whiskey as a way to express a sense of place and talk about some of the things you’re doing. But first, just to give a little more background for people: How did you learn to make single malt whiskey? Again, not that everyone in America knows how to make bourbon. Quite obviously, they don’t. But I think sometimes people would think exactly what you said, “Oh, you’re an American whiskey distiller. Bourbon would be the natural go-to.” So how did you learn to make single malt whiskey?

M: Well, the first thing for me was looking at the history of whiskey and the history of single malt. All whiskeys can trace their lineage back to single malt distilleries in Scotland or Ireland 500 years ago. There’s that historical element to it but even right away, early in my career — I’m from the Pacific Northwest. We know that barley comes from here. You can buy malted barley here as well, and we’re also surrounded by a culture of malted barley. This is the Northwest. The craft brewing revolution started out here, so you see people using malted barley all the time. It’s not a big jump when you look at those raw ingredients. For us, it was very simple. This thing grows here, it’s used here all the time by brewers, and there’s a whole culture around that. Why should we not be making single malt? It’s interesting because that line of thought actually started right from the beginning in our business, and we started experimenting with that same line of thought and the way of thinking the way a brewery would. The way that brewers look at malt for flavor and things like that. At the same time, I was going through formal education in brewing and distilling science both at the Institute of Brewing and Distilling in London as well as Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh, Scotland. I was learning from scratch based on the cultural elements of the Pacific Northwest, while at the same time also getting the formal education that you’d get out of the U.K., and those two things eventually came together.

Z: Very cool. I know when Westland started, a lot of the projects that have since come to fruition were maybe not even conceived of or were ideas that seemed far in the future. You and I have chatted on a number of occasions in a number of different settings. For you, I think all along, the idea was to be able to add in more and more elements of the Pacific Northwest, as you said. For people who maybe aren’t as familiar with some of the products that are out there, what are some of the different ways, outside of barley, that you’ve brought elements of the Pacific Northwest into the whiskey?

M: Yeah, so if we zoom out to 30,000 feet, you look at, what does it mean to make something evocative of a place? To me, there are two parts to that equation. The first thing is the physical impacts of the place that you’re living in, the geography, the climate, the agriculture, and all of that stuff. As I said before, this is a barley-producing part of the world. We actually grow barley better here than they do in Scotland, believe it or not.

Z: That might be controversial.

M: I’ll go ahead and if anybody wants to challenge me on it, let’s do it. They can grow barley just fine up there. But seriously, this is one of the best places to grow barley in the world with the climate that we’ve got here. Anyway, there’s the fact that we have a local oak species here. Right away, in 2011, we were filling casks made out of garryana oak. We’ve got peat, but there’s this whole other part of the equation, which is the culture. I’m sure a lot of the listeners here will understand the term terroir, right? It’s a term that is used a lot in the wine industry, and when most people hear the term terroir, they think about wine and the slope of the vineyard and the exact calcium carbonate content and all of these other things. All that stuff is true, but one of the things that have gone missing in the translation of terroir is the cultural element. If you speak to someone who is French, they will include the culture of the town where things are made. That makes an impact. When we look at making a whiskey that is evocative of place or expressing terroir, it has to also include that culture and, in fact, it’s almost inescapable. We are making it, and we are a product of our culture. Very early on, we were leaning into these elements of Pacific Northwest culture. To me, I think the really beautiful thing about it was we didn’t actually do it on purpose. The Pacific Northwest and the West in general, which is a concentrated version of this idea of the possibility that exists in America more broadly, in theory. Now, here is the idea of the possibility of a future, and we don’t have a past here, right. There is no history of whiskey-making here, so everything’s about the future. That manifests itself in all sorts of different ways in our culture in the Northwest, and we started making whiskey with that mindset. We said, “Wait a second, the historical method of making whiskey to basically say that barley has no flavor impact or terroir doesn’t exist, we can challenge that.” There’s another way to make whiskey here. There’s great whiskey being made all over the world. That doesn’t mean it can’t be pushed further forward. That was really obvious to us. It was like, what are we missing? What’s the catch here? The reality is that it’s safe as a business to be traditional, but there’s an opportunity here. What you see from Westland is a reflection of these two things where we have all this stuff in terms of raw materials that we use here, but we also have this culture that is designed to push things forward and to discover new possibilities. Westland is very simply the fusion of those two ideas.

Z: Very cool. I want to talk a little bit more about garryana, the native species of oak in the Pacific Northwest. You mentioned that almost from the get-go, the idea was to incorporate it into the product. What is working with garryana like, and for people who aren’t familiar, how is it different from the traditional white oak that people use for bourbon?

M: Yeah, so the first thing to understand about American white oak, we call it the Quercus alba. It is colloquially known as American white oak or just white oak in the whiskey industry in that it grows basically from Missouri east, all the way to the Canadian border and all the way down to the Gulf. It grows in a huge part of this country. We use American oak for many of our expressions. In fact, the majority of them use new American oak, and it’s used for the bourbon industry. Those casks then go to Scotland and Japan and other places that make whiskey. It’s ubiquitous, the American white oak. Yet, it doesn’t grow here, and so for as much as we were interested in using it, we looked and said, “OK, Quercus alba doesn’t grow here but we do have this oak species that does grow here, Quercus garryana. What we learned very quickly was this species is radically different compared to Quercus alba and the flavor profile. First of all, it grows in such a narrow range. If nobody who is listening is familiar with Pacific Northwest geography, we live basically along this I-5 Corridor: Vancouver, B.C., Seattle, Olympia, Tacoma, Portland. All of these places, this little 50-mile-wide stretch of land. Fifty miles wide, that’s it. This is where this oak tree grows between the two mountain ranges, the Cascades and the coast ranges or the Olympics in Washington State. Immediately, the geographical restriction is really different compared to the American white oak. It’s also only growing in 5 percent of its former habitat because many people cut it down when they came to establish cities in the Pacific Northwest. First of all, it’s really rare. You don’t have these forests that are growing and managed like you have in Missouri and a bunch of other places. Now, when it comes to flavor, it’s wild. The easiest way for me to describe it is like the Quercus alba, like the American white oak, but everything is darker. If American white oak gives you caramel, baking spices, coconut — that’s the big three, I would say — Quercus garryana gives you all of that, but in darker forms. Caramel turns into molasses, generic spices become heavy cloves. It takes all of our fruitiness from our fermentation and turns that dark. The tropical fruits that we get from our Belgian saison yeast turn that into blackberry jam, blueberry jam, things like that. I think the coolest part about it is this barbecue-style smokiness, which has a high phenol content. If anybody is really familiar with peated whiskey, what you’re tasting is phenolics, these compounds. And it also is very high in Quercus garryana. I like burnt ends. If anybody’s familiar with burnt ends, which are amazing and it has that savory, smoky element to them. It’s so different not only from the Quercus alba but from the American white oak, but it’s so different from every other species of oak on the planet that’s being used to make whiskey. Right away, when we tasted it three months in, we filled a cask, and we had no idea what’s going to happen here. We tasted it three months in and thought that it tasted like Kansas City-style barbecue sauce. What is going on here? Over time, we learned to work with it, and you can’t use it in the same way that you can use the Quercus alba. For some of our expressions that are 100 percent pure Quercus alba, we thought, “OK, that’s too strong. It’s too strong, and we are more balanced with it.” There’s been a lot of learning that’s come along the way to use it in a slightly different way than the American white oak.

Z: OK, very cool. I want to come back to something you said about barley and this idea that in the traditional whiskey, distilling barley is flavorless. It’s there to produce fermentation or that at least the flavor is invariable. It’s always the same thing and I know that you mentioned that the Pacific Northwest and especially the area north of Seattle, the Skagit Valley, is a particularly great place to grow barley. I know that there’s some experimentation going beyond the traditional barley varieties that have been used for brewing and distilling. I know that’s a big piece of what you guys are doing and are looking to do in the future. Can you expand upon both what Westland is doing and also why it’s exciting?

M: Yeah, the first thing to understand is the shocking difference between the way that the single malt industry operates in its relationship to grain. This is actually true of most any whiskey distillery. This is mostly true of any whiskey-producing country and its relationship with grain. This is true with bourbon as well. It’s also true with rye. For single malt, which is what applies to us, the idea that single malt in Scotland had not picked up the idea of deriving flavor from malted barley, whereas the immediately adjacent, both geographically adjacent, but also the intellectually adjacent, idea of brewing had. For hundreds of years, brewers have been using dark-roasted malts for flavor. All of these major styles of beer produced around the world derive themselves in part or in whole from this idea of malted barley flavor. To me from the very beginning, that was shocking. Why is that not coming together?

Z: Was the idea that in the distillation process you’re just losing whatever differences you would find in the purely fermented product? That seems like it wouldn’t be true, but I wonder how much of that residual flavor from a different malt is going to remain?

M: There is some of that. Yes, absolutely. Especially in the more modern era, the way that people talk about malted barley, which is incorrect, to be clear. However, that is the way that they talk about it. Actually, the more that we were thinking about it, the really provocative answer is that whiskey itself — again, no matter which country it’s coming from — has treated itself as a commodity. Again, look at adjacent industries. Look at wine. If you were to ask a winemaker what grape varietal went into this wine and they said, “Well, it doesn’t matter,” that would be preposterous. Same thing if you ask a good chef. The same thing is true in the beer industry. The whiskey industry has been a commodity industry. A distillery will make something always the same, always in the highest-yielding form that they possibly can. Then, stocks would get bought and sold and traded like commodities because the whiskey industry only really survived because of blending. What has happened here is not so much a scientific observation of flavor that has happened to this industry; it is that the whiskey industry is really only just now beginning to realize that it can begin to think beyond the boundaries of commodity thinking. We don’t have to make the same thing out of the highest-yielding raw ingredients, the lowest common denominator that you possibly could. Let’s think like winemakers, let’s think like brewers, let’s think like chefs. That takes a minute for that mindset to sink in, but that’s something that was really evident to us right away. I think more and more people are figuring that out. Whiskey is at this period where it is booming, right? Whiskey has never boomed like it is today, globally. Now, I think people are going, OK, there can be something new in the world of whiskey.

Z: In your experience, what does it mean to move beyond a conventional or traditional style of malted barley, both on the production side and then obviously the finished product in the bottle?

M: Yeah, so the first thing was roasted malts. Thinking like a brewer, brewers are using dark-roasted malts. If you’re not familiar with dark-roasted malts, it is just like roasting coffee beans. You take malted barley, which is sprouted barley, dried. You roast it like a coffee bean, and it develops different flavors: nutty, chocolaty, pastry, cookie, tobacco, leather, all sorts of different things are developed naturally by roasting malted barley. That, literally from the first cask we ever filled, was the pursuit. That’s become a core part of a house style when you buy a Westland American Oak, Westland Sherrywood, even Westland Peated, which also includes peated malts — what you were also experiencing is this use of roasted malts, which we call the five malt recipe here at Westland. A pale malt that has 70 percent of the blend and four roasted malts bring the spectrum of malt flavor. If anybody’s had a Westland out there before, guaranteed, you will have tasted the product of this thinking of this idea of using roasted malts. There’s more, but the other part of it is varietal thinking or variety thinking, which again, looks at the adjacent wine industry. Winemakers know the difference between Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Pinot Noir. If you drink wine, you understand those things, but that doesn’t exist in the whiskey industry because what the whiskey industry asks of the grain industry is the same: conformity. Make it the same. No deviation.

Z: Well, also the lowest price possible. Right?

M: Well, it is that, but you can get things that are yielding relatively well, but they’re just not even interested in asking for something that is different. If you’re a distillery that has been operating for 200 years in Scotland and you’ve got a flavor profile — you’ve got what we call a house style — that is not reliant on the malted barley, it’s the shape of the stills and the technique, or the type of casks you put it in and all the rest of that stuff, you don’t want deviation if you want to make a consistent product if consistency is your goal. This has been a big part of the issue is that nobody has wanted to deviate from what is their house style and the way they look at malt. Malt, to them, is a canvas upon which the rest of your distillery showcases different flavor profiles. That’s a really different way of thinking and saying there can be different varietal capabilities. At any given time, in the Western world — this is true of the U.S., Canada, Europe, and the U.K — there are five varieties of barley, give or take, that are approved and are grown by everybody. We’ve produced whiskeys out of 20 different barley varieties here at Westland, which is more, I think, than the whole Scottish whiskey industry combined. Now, this is where it gets really challenging. In order to do this, you need to go out into the wilderness a little bit. The reason why commodities exist is for safety. A farmer in the middle of eastern Washington can grow a barley variety. He can ship it to a grain elevator. He doesn’t need to know the operator of the grain elevator. The person at the grain elevator can mix it up with all sorts of other barley from other farms that can go to a maltster. Don’t need to know the maltster. And the maltster can ship it on to any brewery or distillery. That is true, generally, across the Western world in our regards to grain. When you get out of that system and there’s a guaranteed price for that commodity, all of a sudden you need to find those connections. The farmer needs to know the distiller, and at the very least, the maltster who can guarantee that they’re going to buy it. I’m showing it on my phone, which is a pretty terrible way for the listeners to see this, but here’s a red barley variety. I had no idea that stuff existed. If you’re a farmer and you want to plant a red barley variety to turn into something interesting, you need to know that you’re going to be able to sell it. It totally restructures the way that we as a community need to interact with each other in terms of our relationship to agriculture. This is why when we started the business, we were able to get into roasted malts right away. That exists, and you can do that with the commodity system. If you want to go off-piste, away from the standard, you need to bring together the A team. You need to get the crew together who say, “OK, I’m the maltster, and I’m going to help you do this. I’m the grain breeder, I am going to help you do this. I’m a farmer, and I’m interested in growing this grain. And I’m the distiller, and we’re going to make whiskey out of it.” And eventually, the fifth one, which is the most important, is the consumer that’s interested in buying something like that.

Z: Let’s talk a little bit about some of the steps in that process, and let’s start with the one that was most interesting to me because I just learned it, which is that now Westland is also a farmer. Can you talk a little bit about your farm project and how that came about and what that looks like?

M: The farm project is very much breaking news, so this is quite exciting to be able to speak about it because we kept it a secret for about a year. The farm project is about furthering our connection to agriculture. When we got into this process of wanting to use different barley varieties, as I mentioned, you need to have all these other people. But there’s a tremendous amount of risk here. The first thing is, if you want to go outside of the commodity system for grains, there’s no funding for that. There’s no money for that. We are now fully funding a Ph.D. research student up at Washington State University who is focused on finding these new barley varieties that can work outside the commodity system. He’s looking for three things. He’s looking to make sure that they are economically viable. Get us something that tastes great. We’re grown organically, but if a farmer can’t earn a living growing it, it’s useless. There are no subsidies for barley. Even if there were, I don’t like it on principle. A farmer should be able to earn a living. It’s not an unreasonable thing to ask. Second big thing is to thrive under low-impact environmental conditions. A lot of people say it’s tough to grow organic grain. But that’s because the varieties of grain that were chosen by the commodity system were chosen to thrive under heavily sprayed conditions, so they never sought it out. So, looking for certified organic, salmon-safe, which is a big thing out here in the Northwest, and a regenerative agricultural system is really big now. It’s carbon fixing, putting carbon back into the ground. The last thing is looking for flavor. Looking for novelty in flavor, not conformity, which is what the commodity industry wants, but looking for nuance and novelty — totally the opposite direction. We are fully funding his research there, and that doesn’t belong to us. It’ll be publicly available. All the information doesn’t belong to the university, either. There’s still a risk, and if you’re a farmer, you’re going to say, “OK, Westland, WSU Mount Vernon, this crazy red barley variety that you want me to grow? That’s nuts. I have no idea how it’s going to grow on my farm.” They’re not just growing the barley itself, which in itself is a risk, but barley for farmers here is a rotation crop. They don’t grow barley because they need to grow barley. In the Skagit Valley, they grow 80 different crops of commercial significance. Barley is the 80th most valuable crop. It is the least valuable crop they can grow, but they need to grow it because barley does a couple of great things. For every acre of barley that you grow as a farmer, you will yield three tons of barley to the acre. Three tons will go to the maltster. It puts eight tons of organic matter back into the ground, so if you are growing tulips or potatoes or spinach seed or other things that make them a lot of money, it takes a lot of soil. You need to build it back up. Barley does that and does it really, really well. The other big thing that barley does is in heavy clay-based soils we have here in Skagit, the root systems are really strong. It breaks the clay soils apart. And the last thing that it helps with is it breaks the disease cycle, so they need to be growing barley anyway. When you say I want you to grow this red barley variety, you’re also asking them to not just take a risk on the barley crop, but you also ask what impact will that make on their tulips on the next rotation, which is where they really make their money.

Z: Sure.

M: This is where the farm begins to make a ton of sense for us. We said, “OK, that’s a fair point. Let’s take the risk with you.” We bought this farm, and we basically found this perfect space for us, which is 80 acres. Only about 20 of them are zoned AG. It slopes gently up to the top where the top is not suited for agriculture. We’re putting new rack houses up there, but at the very bottom of the slope, the main 20 acres will be used to take the products that are coming out of this research with the Washington State University lab in Mount Vernon and test it at scale and test rotation crops. If you’re a farmer, you would say, “OK, what is the impact on my rotations going to be?” Here is a way where we can say, “All right, we’ll grow potatoes or radishes on the next rotation and tell you what the impact is going to be so that you can take that with confidence and begin to grow it.” And that’s what it’s about. I think it’s a shared risk. If you put all the risk on the farmer, which is frankly how our agricultural system in this country works, all the risk is put on the farmer and very little of the reward goes to them. The farm is about sharing risk and being on the cutting edge with them.

Z: Very cool. This prompts a couple of questions. One, we’ll stick with a farming one and then to distilling as well on this topic. On the farming side, one of the big sticking points in addition potentially to what you mentioned, which is the risk of what the impact over time with some of these new barley varieties might be to the farm or to their land. So it’s great that Westland wants this. I would imagine that for any of these varieties to take hold at any scale, there have to be other uses. It’s not as if Seattle is awash in single malt distilleries. It is awash in breweries. How do breweries potentially play a role in building this alternate barley economy?

M: Well, you’re exactly right. And this is part of this idea of going outside of the safety of the nest. Everyone knows what’s going to happen in the commodity system. The breweries, at least you know what you’re going to get if you’re a brewery or a distillery. And that’s worth something, frankly. It’s worth something to us as producers. It’s worth something to the maltsters, the farmers, and actually to consumers as well. In order to do this, there needs to be, in my mind, a very clear payoff. If you’re going to go outside of the commodity system, there needs to be a point to it. There’s a couple of really big bonuses here, which is that we can go for salmon-safe and certified organic agriculture, and that’s great. By the way, all of our early sources by 2025 will be from sustainable agricultural sources like that. But if you want people to do that — and it costs more money to do that — what is the selling point? All of this sounds great in theory, but you need to be able to sell. I need to be able to sell this whiskey eventually. There’s a story that comes with that, and I think the story is super compelling on its own. But it’s a payoff in the liquid. The liquid is what matters, whether distillery or brewery. That’s what really makes a difference, so that’s where seeking out that flavor from the ground level in the research and testing it in brewing environments comes in. They can test the distilling environment. The fact that this is open-ended and this research is being done, a brewery can jump in and say, “Hey, what is the status of this? What would be the impact there?” We need that. Besides the fact that I think ethically, not owning the research is the right thing to do for Westland. It’s not really going to ever catch on as a movement, as a new approach to agriculture, if it’s not widely adopted. That means you need to have other people who benefit — the brewing industry, other distilleries, and actually beyond just the Pacific Northwest. It’s about community. It’s about bringing all these people to the table. Look at what is possible when you begin to use this red barley variety example. Use it. Take some.

Z: On that note, it seems pretty straightforward to me that as a brewer, I could take red barley, make a beer with it, make a few different beers with it, and brewing is a month-long process-ish. I can do it in relatively small batches. I can taste it and go, “Oh, interesting. This is how this new strain of barley expresses itself.” And maybe I really like it. Or I think this could potentially be blended with something else or finished with something else. I am assuming that brewing is very much about thinking about these flavors. And with the relatively short time span, you can experiment a lot. That is why all these different fascinating styles emerged over the last couple of decades because you can do it on a short time scale. For distilling, not so much. How do you take a look at a raw input like red barley and get to the point of understanding or having some sense of how it will express itself in a finished product after years in a cask without just doing that. Now, I think just doing that is super cool, but presumably you have to have some idea before you start filling a bunch of casks with an unusual barley strain. How do you even see that far into the future?

M: The answer is we kind of need to know where that’s going. I think Westland’s perspective on risk management is bordering on reckless. And I’m joking, but when it comes to how much new stuff we source, a lot of distilleries would study this to death. In the commodity industry, the small deviation of a new variety that is basically bred to be exactly the same as the old one, they study that for years and years. When you say, all right, we’re going way out here with this six-row black barley variety, you’re really jumping out to the unknown and you’re taking on a lot of risk. A big part of that is, philosophically, nothing will ever get done if you go slow. It takes some risk, and we’re going to try it. Again, if we’re not able to buy this barley at scale, then the farmers aren’t going to grow it and the maltsters are not going to malt it. If you want to be a part of this, you’re going to have to jump in. Again, it’s part of that sharing risk, but there is some underlying science behind it. The first thing is, where do we derive flavor from in whiskey from barley? A lot of distilleries today will say that there is no such thing as leading from behind, which is nonsense. When you look at it, there’s a couple of things. One, there’s oil content in the barley. This is getting very heavy into the science here, folks. Buckle up. Fatty acids and fatty acid esters are responsible for a lot of the fruity components of flavor in whiskey straight across the board. That will vary between varieties. It varies between grains and also varies between varieties. A lot of individual compounds in barley, like amino acids, will undergo fermentation, and the yeast will eat some acids and do something interesting with them. They’ll disregard others in how individual strains react to individual amino acids to produce different flavors. That is known and understood. Now, how that applies to new barley varieties, that connection has not been made yet. But I think it’s fairly intuitive. The other big thing, which is interesting, especially for everybody who’s listening who’s interested in wine, is that a lot of these colored barley varieties, the reds, blues, and purples are coming from compounds called anthocyanins.

Z: Oh, really?

M: I see you understand. For people who aren’t super familiar, anthocyanins are linked to the color in wine grape skins but also linked to varietal flavor. If you’ve got more information on that, please don’t ask me because I’m not an expert. However, those anthocyanins in barley, it stands to reason that if that’s happening in wine that is also happening with these varieties. Interestingly enough, in black barley varieties, the color pigmentation black is melanin.

Z: Oh, interesting.

M: It’s actually a totally different thing. We don’t really know yet what the rationale is there, even though we’re using black barley varieties, too. There’s a lot of theory that’s drawn from, again, adjacent entries. Frankly, this is how we figured out the roasted malt thing. There was no established literature on roasted malt flavor in whiskey. But if you look at the types of flavors that are produced by roasted malts, you do the math in your head and look at the chemistry and say, is this going to produce flavor? And we were right for a lot of that stuff. With this, it’s following a lot of the same logic. To be very clear, we’re going to be wrong about some things. That is part of the nature of it, but it’s a hell of a lot more fun to just give it a go, and this is how you really drive change, too.

Z: Excellent. So one last question for you. You talked about driving change, and you talked about this idea of stepping outside this existing commodity market for barley. Putting on your prognosticator cap for a moment: Looking 10 to 15 years in the future, is your goal to be outside of the commodity market entirely when it comes to grain or all inputs? Or do you think that there’s still a flavor argument in favor of commodity barley?

M: I certainly think that there is a flavor argument in favor of commodity barley. Maybe the better way to put it is the known quantity. Again, the risk elements of it. A lot of the barleys in the commodity industry are chosen to not have a ton of flavor. But it’s not that it tastes bad, especially when you look at roasted malts. Roasted malts, you’re taking this commodity barley industry. For everything is available today — we’re changing that but everything that is available today in roasted malts — is the commodity variety but roasted in different ways. Again, that’s how all these different beer styles are created, and they’re wonderful. It’s not that we’re lacking there, necessarily. It’s just that there can be a parallel system that develops that the commodity industry cannot do, by definition. It will cost more money to do that. We hope that that delta comes down in time, but by 2025, we will be at 100 percent sustainable agriculture — salmon-safe, regenerative agriculture. Also, by 2025, probably 75 percent, at least, of the barley we source, which today is an acre of barley every single day, will be off the commodity system. That is really a big deal for us here.

Z: And you can’t see the look on Matt’s face, but it’s excitement and maybe just a little bit of fear.

M: That’s exactly how I feel, but that’s the fun stuff. We’re getting into these amazing things that I could go on here. The research that’s going on with barley right now, we are developing new barley varieties with the WSU Breadlab that have higher genetic diversity as a variety, which means that they’re not as genetically pure, which means they can adapt to climate change better. In the rapidly changing climate that we have, more genetic diversity within a stock you sow in a field means that it can adapt to heatwaves, floods, and a variety of things like that. It can react really quickly to that as a species, but then, it also changes what it means when we say malted barley. That’s quite dramatic. When you say malted barley, what people think of in their heads is this pale tan thing that all looks the same, malts the same, tastes the same everywhere you get it in North America. And now, we’re saying it’s not going to look the same. You buy malted barley, even this red-brown variety, it will look different within it. It’s such a cool place to go, but there’s the risk. We’re jumping off into this place where nobody knows about this stuff yet. This is the cutting edge. To loop it back to your earlier question about beer, we’ve got some time to show people what is possible. That is what is happening right now. We’re working on these projects, and some of these barley varieties won’t ever sell until 2030, but we want to be ahead of the game here. We think very much that this is the future.

Z: Excellent. Well, Matt, thank you so much. Always fascinating to talk and to hear what you and your team here at Westland are experimenting with and envisioning for the future. Again, thanks so much for your time, and also very nice to see you in person.

M: Yeah, great to see you as well. If I can add one more quick pitch here for everybody. If you’re interested in seeing what this is like, this work that we’re talking about in terms of seeking out new barley varieties and different agricultural systems, we’ve been doing since 2012. The first whiskey that is made from this is just now launching.

Z: Oh, wow.

M: It’s called Colere, which is a Latin word that means to cultivate. We thought it would be a perfect term for reestablishing relationships in agriculture. Colere, Edition One is just launching now. It may be the most important whiskey that we ever made.

Z: Very cool. And we’ll include a link in the description if people want to know more about it. Thanks so much, Matt, I really appreciate it.

M: You are very welcome.

Thanks so much for listening to the “VinePair Podcast.” If you love this show as much as we love making it, then please give us a rating or review on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever it is you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show.

Now for the credits. “VinePair” is produced and recorded in New York City and in Seattle, Wash., by myself and Zach Geballe, who does all the editing and loves to get the credit. Also, I would love to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder, Josh Malin, for helping make all this possible and also to Keith Beavers, VinePair’s tastings director, who is additionally a producer on the show. I also want to, of course, thank every other member of the VinePair team who are instrumental in all of the ideas that go into making the show every week. Thanks so much for listening, and we’ll see you again.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Next Round: Distilling Terroir With Westland Single Malt Whiskey appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/single-malt-whiskey-westland-distillery/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/next-round-distilling-terroir-with-westland-single-malt-whiskey9314564

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wineanddinosaur · 4 years ago

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Next Round: Distilling Terroir With Westland Single Malt Whiskey

On this episode of “Next Round,” host Zach Geballe chats with Matt Hoffman, co-founder and managing director of Westland Distillery in Seattle. Hoffman recounts the history of the distillery, and why he chose to focus on single malt whiskey rather than bourbon. Hoffman claims that the Pacific Northwest grows some of the best barley on earth. Hoffman also explains how and why the Pacific Northwest serves as Westland’s inspiration in capturing terroir.

Plus, listeners will learn about how Quercus garryana, the native oak species used to age Westland’s products, differs from the American white oak that houses bourbon. Listeners will also get a glimpse into experimentation that is occurring at distillery involving research at Washington State University. Finally, Hoffman details the distillery’s farm project, which is aimed at furthering the distillery’s connection to agriculture.

Tune in and visit the Westland Distillery website to learn more.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check out the Conversation Here

Zach Geballe: In Seattle, Washington, I’m Zach Geballe and this is a VinePair “Next Round” conversation. We’re bringing you these conversations in between our regular podcast episodes so we can explore more stories and ideas in the world of drinks. Today, I have the pleasure of joining, in person, as hard as it is to believe, Matt Hoffman, who is the co-founder and managing director at Westland Distilling here in Seattle. Matt, thanks so much for your time.

Matt Hoffman: Well, thanks. We’re thankful that we’re able to actually have you here in person. Totally forgot how to do this.

M: Yeah, these are authentic distillery sounds.

Z: Exactly. So let’s actually start with a little history of the distillery. When was Westland founded, and what was the idea behind it? When was it just an idea?

Z: That might be controversial.

Z: In your experience, what does it mean to move beyond a conventional or traditional style of malted barley, both on the production side and then obviously the finished product in the bottle?

Z: Well, also the lowest price possible. Right?

Z: Sure.

Z: Oh, really?

Z: Oh, interesting.

Z: And you can’t see the look on Matt’s face, but it’s excitement and maybe just a little bit of fear.

Z: Oh, wow.

Z: Very cool. And we’ll include a link in the description if people want to know more about it. Thanks so much, Matt, I really appreciate it.

M: You are very welcome.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Next Round: Distilling Terroir With Westland Single Malt Whiskey appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/single-malt-whiskey-westland-distillery/

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shemakesmusic-uk · 4 years ago

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This segment features artists who have submitted their tracks/videos to She Makes Music. If you would like to be featured here then please send an e-mail to [email protected]. We look forward to hearing from you!

NADUH

NADUH, composed of TARANEH (aka Tee Krispil), Jenny Lea (of I M U R), Rosita Alcantara (of Off Topic), Giorgi Holiday (aka Giorgi), and Larisa Marie, write, engineer, and produce all of their music – meaning they have crafted a sound that’s truly representative of their collective energy. With heavy influences from 90’s R&B, soul, and modern hip-hop, the self proclaimed soft/hard music NADUH make is representative of their queer, femme/tomboy identities as they dance between themes of empowerment and juicy realness. New single, ‘CHAPSTICK,’ was produced by TARANEH and written by all five members. Flipping the script on the often used line in male hip hop – “I took your girl…” – the crew wrote a queer rendition from the perspective of women having the power and energy to attract other women. The band elaborate: "Women do it better, we all know that. This song is the perfect example of the SOFT/HARD juxtaposition in our music. Remember where the fuck you grew, from fetus to a baby. Every person came from a womb. This line is a reminder to respect your origins, which means respecting women. Women hold the power to both give life and to attract other women. When making this track, we talked a lot about what it meant to own our sexuality in this dominant way and how a song could never summarize the complexities of our sexual identities – ‘CHAPSTICK’ is just one snapshot.” Listen below.

NADUH · CHAPSTICK

Chantae Vetrice

Chantae’ began her professional career in Atlanta, GA working alongside some of the industry’s top producers such as producer J Rell and landed a production deal with Anthony Dent. After living in Atlanta, she moved to Ibiza Spain where she focused on creating her image and coming into more of her own as an artist. Musically, she was able to work with producer Rui Da Silva of the famous song titled ‘Touch Me’ and Sonic Vista Studios where artists such as Lady Gaga record when on the island. Outside of music, fashion and modeling has always been her passion and has allowed her some exposure. Her new song, 'Elevated' is a “song that has a message and is for the culture but still something you can dance to. I teamed up with famous director International P (Mr. Swipey, Fivio Foreign, French Montana, etc) to bring this sound to life,” says Chantae. Listen below.

Chantae Vetrice · Elevated

Priz Em

Virtual diva Priz Em was created to captivate all who witness her. Her sultry blend of husky tones and catchy tracks will move both your spirit and your feet. Priz Em comes to us from the fantasy world, of Mega Centarri; even though she is from a world of fantasy her voice and music are very real. The creative team behind Priz Em’s music are veteran songwriters: Bruce Irvine, Merlin Rhys Jones, Jack Gunderson and Kathy Irvine. Her music is produced and recorded by Canadian legendary producers and musicians: Anthony Anderson and Steve Smith. The Mega Centarri website showcase’s Priz Em’s world and her music in ear and eye-catching detail. Her song ‘Heartless’ is out now. The story of Priz Em’s life is told in the graphic novel Mega Centarri published on Comixology and Crypto Comics. The Mega Centarri social-network game is presently in development. Listen to ‘Heartless’ below.

Joely Smith

South London’s Joely Smith is a member of the band adults and when the pandemic put a stop to that temporarily she spent that time on Garageband creating some new music. Out of that emerged a collection of demos. “The theme of the demos is tempo discretion,” explains Joely. “Not for an artistic reason, but because if you record without a metronome on your own (i.e. poor technique), you really are reliant on that first guitar take. The song 'Pale' feels a bit strange to talk about, but I cared about getting this song right the most and I think that is why it might be worth trying to share. Oh and I’m really proud of the bassline at the end, naturally. It took around a year from writing it to have the cahoots to record anything. Its a little demo call to arms if you like, dont play it cool if this is something you care about, whats the point? Especially if you are over 25. Society regards you as over the hill anyway so you may as well do what feels right and if that is to poorly record all your feelings on an afternoon then you should do that - and maybe people shouldn't hear a testing Macbook mic recording of a dead-string cheap acoustic guitar, but if I don't get rid of these demos then what was the point of learning the drums.” Listen to ‘Pale’ below.

joely smith · PALE

KAHLLA

We’ve probably all been there, at least over the past year in lockdown, asking ourselves: Am I doing enough? Should I be doing more? Does my life compare to my Instagram timeline? German born, London-based artist Kahlla discusses exactly that feeling on her newest single ‘Anything at All’. The track follows up from recent single ‘Thread’ and 2020’s debut EP Sense of Self. On ‘Anything at All’, Kahlla blends a hard-hitting drum machine groove, a driving bass line and stacks of vocal harmonies to craft a piece of personal pop music that’s hard to pin to a single genre. About the song Kahlla says: “I wrote ‘Anything at All’ at the beginning of lockdown, when everything suddenly came to a standstill. That sudden big amount of free time made me overthink a lot and spend too much time stalking beautiful people on social media. Very symptomatic of my generation, but not a good combo! I wanted the song and video to convey that feeling of nothing happening and you just being in your head all the time.” ‘Anything at All’ was co-produced by Duncan Pym (Mysie, Litany) and Kahlla and is the second single off her upcoming sophomore EP Time, to be released in spring 2021. Influenced by artists such as Jimmy Eat World, Lapsley and Death Cab for Cutie this sophomore EP is Kahlla at her most self-assured, releasing a body of work entirely written, co-produced and visually dreamt up by herself. Listen to ‘Anything At All’ below.

KAHLLA · Anything At All

HEAD BALLET

Emerging from the midst of a pandemic, the trio met through a friend, clicked and formed HEAD BALLET. Now living together in Manchester, they harness inspiration from alternative giants such as Orbital and Yeah Yeah Yeahs, creating music which longs for the return of festival tents, packed nightclubs and strobe lights. HEAD BALLET are making art for a new decade bound to be defined by the pursuit of hedonistic escape. Their new single ‘Polythene’ is about the desire for purpose when you’re stuck in a repetitive cycle. Wanting to be remembered, have an element of permanence and to defy pre-existing limits. Listen below.

HEAD BALLET · Polythene

#submission saturday #naduh #chantae vetrice #priz em #joely smith #kah #head ballet

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ftviolets-blog · 7 years ago

Text

hi hello hi!! my name’s sam and i’m not exactly the best (tm) at introducing myself but i’ll give it a go!! i’m 22, i live in the est, i go by she/her pronouns, and i really love apples! i’m super duper excited to be in this roleplay and to play my baby violet, hence the gif, and you can find more about her below the cut!! just like this post if u want to plot and i’ll hit u up!!

⤥ have you seen VIOLET CLAREMONT? the TWENTY-SIX year old CISFEMALE that looks a lot like ADELAIDE KANE? it’s always hard to catch the PRISTINE since they work as a HUMAN RESOURCES MANAGER; no wonder VI is said to be GULLIBLE & IMPATIENT, but my mate insists they can be quite BENEVOLENT & KIND on a better day. do you think it’s true SHE is from RIGAUD, CANADA? wait, i think i hear NOISE POLLUTION by PORTUGAL. THE MAN - they must be nearby

a real pure (tm)

like holy shit that girl????? doesn’t have a bad bone in her body

she does have defaults though like don’t be fooled by her sweet af personality she’s a real sagittarius and has 0 patience and she’ll believe also anything without questioning it. like you know those fake news on the internet like “this bee ate an entire rock!” she’ll believe it and be all like...... “wow...... that is truly,,,,,, amazing”

she’s not dumb per say she just doesn’t think that people would lie so she always assumes they’re telling the truth like she doesn’t like so why would anyone????

her parents died in a car crash two years ago and left her a lot of money but she hasn’t touched it yet bc she wants to keep it for her future children

speaking about having children guess who’s a 26 year old virgin bc she’s waiting for true love????

she’s been in relationships but she’s never felt the right thing and eventually people get bored and break up with her and it’s v sad bc she’s always a bit hesitant bc she’s never sure if people really like her. she’s a lil insecure.

she’s such a caring and generous person like she loves loves loves being an hr manager bc it gives her the opportunity to help people

will always offer u a helping hand, always gives money to people who beg, and also gives them water bottles in the summer.

is a cutie???????

idk what else to say pls come plot with me i have so much muse for her woiejergjerogjer

makes dad jokes when she’s drunk and is constantly laughing

loves smoking weed tbh it really relaxes her and she’s rlly fun to be around when she’s high

is pansexual

grew up in a small french-canadian town so dublin is quite,,,,,,, different from what she’s used to like she did go to university in toronto but still, dublin holds a special place in her heart bc it’s different but it feels right you know???? it’s warm to her in a way does that make sense i’m woiegjerojgerjge

connection ideas

corruption: someone who’s trying their hardest to corrupt violet and who’s probably getting frustrated by the fact that it’s not um exactly working best friend: someone who violet can be a bit less reserved around like she swears around them and talks more loudly and isn’t as soft as usual around like she feels ,,,,, wild (wild for violet i mean) and free around them crush: someone who violet has a crush on. they probs find it amusing bc she blushes and stammers a lot when she has crushes. protector: someone (or people) who feel quite protective of violet and are probably lowkey like fight me at the one(s) who try to corrupt her annoyance: someone who’s annoyed af by violet like they can’t believe someone can be so gullible and they just want to!!!!! shake her!!!! friends: i mean that’s an obvious one caring: someone violet feels protective/caring of like maybe someone who’s a bit wild who get their hair held back by violet when they’re throwing up

#dublins:intro #( &&. ooc )

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fanforthefics · 6 years ago

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because fake/pretend relationships are my fucking jam would you do number 34 for sidgeno ?

a kiss… to pretend

“Tell Sid no,” Flower says as soon as Sid opens the door, before Sid even has a chance to say hi to Geno.

Geno raises his eyebrows, but, “No,” he tells Sid as he comes into his apartment, handing Sid the six-pack of beer that is his perennial contribution to their monthly potluck dinners.

“Thanks,” Sid says to Geno, “It’s just us this month, all the guys are busy, apparently.” Then he turns back to Flower, because he’s wrong. “I didn’t even say I was going to do anything.”

“You were on your way there,” Flower retorts.

“I–”

“Have you told Sid no too?” Tanger asks, wandering into the hallway in his socks. “It is unanimous, if you did.”

“It is not–”

“It is!” Cath calls from the living room.

“I’m not even proposing anything!” Sid repeats, exasperated. “I was just stating an issue.”

“Is anyone ever going to catch me up?” Geno demands. In the time they’ve been bickering, he’s taken off his boots and his coat and hung it up, and is now standing looking impatient in his warm-looking cardigan. “What is Sid doing now?”

“What am I doing now?” Sid asks. “Me? Flower is in the room!”

“And I’m not doing anything,” Flower tells him, smiling beatifically. “I’m enjoying it, too. I never get to yell at you for being stupid.”

“I’m not–”

“Someone tell me what’s happening,” Geno demands again. He takes the six-pack back from Sid, and pushes past Sid to head to the kitchen. Sid makes a face at Flower, who makes one back, before he follows Geno into the kitchen.

Geno’s made himself at home in the kitchen, or as at home as he needs to be to know where the bottle opener is and to steal a taste from the sauce simmering on the stove. Sid smacks his hand away, and takes a beer of his own, ignoring Geno’s puppy dog eyes.

“Come on, sit down, Flower and Vero brought these prosciutto things, they’re great,” Sid tells him. Geno perks up at that, as always.

Sid barely manages to sit down in the armchair before Flower starts on him again.

“You can’t do this, Sid,” he says. Sid looks at Vero.

“Can you please control your husband?”

“No,” She replies, patting him on the thigh. “Also, you cannot do this.”

“If no one tell me what Sid doing, I’m going scream,” Geno says, around a mouthful of prosciutto.

“I’m not doing anything!”

“He’s going to hire someone to date him so that the people at work like him,” Tanger inserts, smirking.

Geno freezes, then turns to Sid. “Sid…” he says on a sigh.

“That’s not what I said!” Sid glares at Tanger. If this was ten years ago, he definitely would be throwing a pillow–or a cracker–at him. But they aren’t in college anymore, and are apparently adults. Though Sid is fairly sure not everyone in this room–cough Flower cough–remembers that.

“You were going to get there soon,” Vero tells him. She steals a grape from Flower’s plate, then grins at him when he makes an affronted sound. “We’re just getting you there faster.”

“I honestly never thought of that, because I’m not insane,” Sid points out. “And my first response isn’t to hire someone to have sex with me.”

“That is true,” Cath agrees, looking at her husband. “Sid’s pretty. He probably wouldn’t have to pay for it. I’m sure he could convince someone to do it just for that ass.”

“Hmm,” Tanger hums, “I–”

“Why you need to pay someone for sex?” Geno interrupts. He sounds stern. Sid has never been cowed by Geno being stern.

“As I was saying before you all started willfully misinterpreting me,” he starts. Tanger snorts very loudly. “I just think work might be easier if I was in a relationship.”

“Why?” Geno asks.

Sid shrugs. “They don’t trust me, yet,” he explains. It’s fair–he’s only been there a few weeks, and he knows it caused a stir, bringing in someone from the outside to be director, and someone as comparatively young as him. Sid’s been facing that sort of distrust his whole life–always too young and too good at his job. They’ll get over that once they get some big wins.

“They trust once you raise them millions of dollars or do big initiative,” Geno says, as on the same page as Sid as always. “Why you worry?”

“It’s different, this time.” Sid says. “I think I’m not gay enough. Which is why a relationship would help,” he adds, over French-Canadian laughter.

“Um, think you plenty gay,” Geno says, not bothering not to look like he’s laughing. “What, they want you wear rainbows? Have sex tape?”

“Don’t,” Sid warns. It’s not not that trivial–he gets it, a little. And anyway, you don’t laugh at people’s feelings, ever. “Their Board of Directors just brought in some guy they don’t know, and they’ve got a healthy non-profit distrust of their Board anyway. They don’t want some straight cis white guy leading a place where the whole mission is inclusion. It makes sense.

“But you aren’t a straight cis white guy,” Vero points out. “Unless you went back in the closet.”

“I didn’t, and I’m not quiet about my orientation, but…” Sid waves at himself. “You know how I look.”

“Sure do,” Geno agrees, leering cheerfully. Sid smacks his knee, the closest part of him. “Hey! Just saying, you look very nice. You know.”

Sid knows he blushes, but he ignores it. Geno’s never exactly sparing with his compliments, and he’s made it clear for about ten years that he thinks Sid is hot. It’s not new, or anything.

“I look like a meathead jock,” Sid corrects. He knows that, too. It’s usually something that works for him–people underestimate him at work and like it on Grindr–but it does make certain spaces less immediately welcoming, how non-flamboyant he is. “Which is not a trope they trust. Understandably. So even though they know I’m gay, they don’t, like, feel it. Which is why,” he goes on, with a meaningful look, “I was saying that if I was in a relationship, it would give me more credit. It was these idiots who jumped from there to me hiring someone.”

Tanger says something in French, too low and fast for Sid to catch, which means it was definitely an insult, given how everyone but Geno smirks. Sid loves the pot lucks when it’s just them, just what he privately thinks of as the original crew–or the ones that haven’t moved away–but at least when all the younger people are here he has some defense against French speakers. And making fun of him–he’ll take the sometimes uncomfortable hero worship for less mockery.

At least Geno can’t understand them either, and ignores them as easily as Sid. “You could just find boyfriend.”

Sid snorts. “In all my free time?” he asks. He leaves unsaid what they all know–he’s not an easy boyfriend. Maybe not personally, though some of his previous boyfriends might disagree, especially when he was younger and didn’t really know how to deal with his obsessiveness, but Sid’s busy and he’s generally going to put work first and he’s not rich or romantic enough to make up for that. His friends, who too often have to put up with his single-minded focus and occasional neglect of them for that, understand.

And also, he doesn’t want to talk about this, like, at all. Ever since Flower’s and Tanger’s weddings, they’ve been not at all subtle about their matchmaking of Sid, because apparently it doesn’t calculate that marrying their high school or college sweetheart is a different deal than post-college dating.

“Anyway,” Sid adds. “Geno, you went on a second date yesterday, right? How was that?”

Geno gives him a horrified, betrayed look. Sid smirks and shrugs. He’s willing to play a little dirty to escape the clutches of matchmakers.

“You did?” Vero demands, like a shark scenting blood. “What was he like? How was it?”

“What’s his name? How did you meet him?” Flower adds. Geno holds up his hands, and Sid settles in to watch.

Later, Sid’s clearing the table when Geno wanders in, holding the last remaining beer bottles. “Thanks,” Sid tells him, as he throws them in recycling.

“No problem,” Geno says, and leans agains the island to watch as Sid rinses the final plates and puts them in the dishwasher. Sid waits. Geno doesn’t usually stick around for clean-up; if he’s still here he wants to talk something over with Sid. And sometimes he needs a little bit to get there–either because he’s finding the words in English, though his English is much better now than it was at the beginning, and sometimes just because Geno has a lot of emotions and figuring out the words for them sometimes takes him a while.

Sid finishes loading the dishwasher, then turns to lean against the sink, watching Geno back. Geno looks as good as he always does, all long legs and rangy body and that ineffable charm that makes objectively goofy features attractive. Sid’s never really been clear why he’s still single, honestly; Geno’s a catch. And maybe being a grad student isn’t the world’s most lucrative or interesting job, but he hasn’t really had a boyfriend since graduation, and working at Google is definitely both.

“You really think it help?” Geno asks, suddenly. Sid blinks. “To have boyfriend. You really think would help you get settle, do better?”

Sid shrugs. “Yeah? I mean, it’ll happen eventually anyway. It’s just bad timing, because we have a big event coming up and I need all hands on deck, but–”

“So it help,” Geno interrupts him. He’s still watching Sid, something thoughtful and searching in his deepset eyes.

It’s a look Sid’s familiar with. “Geno, what are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Geno–”

“Don’t worry, Sid.” Sid is definitely going to worry. Geno with that look on his face is the sort of Geno who, back in college, ended up leading the whole team into the penalty box in the one game Sid missed. “I take care.”

“Do not hire me a hooker.” Geno smiles, pats Sid on the head, then heads to the hallway.

“Evgeni Malkin!” Sid follows him down the hallway. “Do not get me a hooker. Do not work with Flower and Tanger to get me a hooker.”

“You think I’m do that?” Geno asks, with his most innocent face. Sid is absolutely not fooled.

“Yes,” He says. “But don’t. It’s fine. I’ll make it work.”

“Yes, you always do,” Geno agrees. There’s an odd note in his voice. “See you soon, Sid.”

“See you.” Sid hovers as he gets his boots on, then his jacket. Then he stands up and tugs Sid in for a quick hug, which Sid returns, used to it by now.

Then Geno goes. Sid closes the door behind him, goes to the kitchen table, and opens up his computer. He has more work to do before he goes to bed.

Sid’s office phone rings, and Sid jumps and accidentally types in an extra g–it’s still a different enough tone from what Sid’s used to that he’s surprised by it every time.

He glances at the caller id–the front desk–and then picks it up. “Sidney Crosby.”

“Hi, Sidney,” Sydney, the receptionist, says. Her voice is still tightly polite. “There’s an Evgeni Malkin, here to see you?”

“Geno’s here?” Sid pulls up his calendar, but he doesn’t have anything there; there’s no texts on his personal phone, either.

“If Geno is a tall Russian man, then yes,” she replies. It’s at least a hint of snark–Sid will take it.

“Oh. Um. Okay, I’ll be right out,” Sid tells her, then hangs up. If he cranes his neck from here, he can see the front desk through the glass walls of his office–and sure enough, there’s a hint of a brightly patterned jacket that Sid has been subjected to looking at plenty of times. He can also see the other people in the office, most of them on their computers but a few with the sort of tension that means that they’re eavesdropping.

Sid goes to the front desk. Geno’s leaning over it, chatting with Sydney, who looks, inevitably, charmed.

But he looks up when he sees Sid, and grins. “Sid!”

“Hey, G.” Sid pauses. “I didn’t forget something, did I?”

“No, no. I surprise.” Geno holds up a takeout bag. “Think I bring you lunch.”

“Oh. Thanks?” That’s not really something they do, and Geno is definitely up to something, but Sid’s also not going to turn down a free lunch. Geno works at Google, he can afford that shit. “Um, my office is over here, come on.”

“I come. Nice to meet, Sydney,” Geno tells Sydney, who smiles at him.

“What are you doing here, really?” Sid asks, as he walks Geno back to his office.

Geno’s innocent look is unconvincing. “Can’t just stop in, be nice?”

“No.”

Geno snorts. He’s of course loud; much more of the office is looking at Sid now, over the top of their computers. Sid is pretty sure at least some of the typing is them sending slack messages about him.

“Fine, maybe I’m have ulterior motive,” he admits, as they get to the door of Sid’s office. He pauses in front of it, and Sid can see him look around the office, clock the people watching.

Then his hand is on the back of Sid’s head, tilting it up, and Sid’s too surprised to react when Geno leans down to kiss him, chaste but lingering.

Geno’s smiling when he pulls back. “I’m miss, little bit,” he says, sheepish. Probably because he can see the murder in Sid’s eyes. Or how the sound of typing around them has definitely picked up.

Sid looks at him another moment–then he pushes the door open. “Come in,” he says. It’s an order, and Geno doesn’t push it.

Sid shuts the door, then crosses his arms and leans back against his desk. It’s not perfect–the glass is soundproofed to a degree, but it’s not perfect, and everyone can see them anyway, so he can’t yell properly. But at least he can say what he wants.

“What the hell was that?” he snaps. “G–”

Geno crosses his arms back. “That is solution,” he retorts. “You need boyfriend. You not want to hire boyfriend, don’t have time to find one. So, I find solution.”

Sid blinks. Thinks about his words, very carefully. “If this is you asking me out, G, I’m very flattered, but I don’t–”

“No! No, is not–of course not. Not want to actually date you.” Sid’s probably offended by how fast Geno answered that and how horrified he sounds. “Just, pretend. So you get credibility with co-workers.”

“And what do you get?”

Geno shrugs. “Not a big deal for me. You can buy me beer.”

“I’m not going to ask you to do this,” Sid tells him. Then, “Actually, no, I’m not even considering this. There’s no way it’d work. We’d have to pretend to be dating–I have events and things you’d have to come to.”

“So I come. Eat fancy food, tell everyone how great foundation is. Can do.”

“And what if someone ran across you on Tinder?”

“Then we say I not deactivate by accident, or we open. We figure out.”

Sid looks at Geno. That answer was fast too–fast enough that Geno had thought about it before. “Geno, why are you doing this?”

Geno shrugs, and looks down at his hands. “Because–Foundation’s work important. I’m know that–it help me, when I come to America. And I’m so excited when you get this job, because I know you do great things with it, help so many people.” He looks up, and it’s the way he always looks at Sid–like he believes in him. Like there’s no question he wouldn’t believe in him. “I want make sure you can.”

Sid opens his mouth. Closes it. “G, you don’t have to–”

“Know I don’t. I want to. Want to help.” Geno glares back at him. It’s still an open question, who between them is more stubborn. “And what you do now? Say random person just kiss you?”

So that was him cornering Sid. Sid should have known. “I’d say that that’s how you say hello, because you’re insane,” Sid answers. Geno makes a face. “Flower or Tanger didn’t put you up to this?”

“No, they not know. We not have to tell them.” Geno’s still looking at Sid, steady and sure. “This all me. You want to do?”

Sid–it’ll help, he justifies. It’ll help. And Geno really won’t have to do much, and he’ll pay him in so much beer, and–”We don’t ever tell Flower,” he says. Geno grins. “And this doesn’t mean you get to do your insane plans whenever you want, you or him.”

“Okay, Sid.” He pats Sid’s thigh, looking very smug now that he’s gotten his way. “Now, we eat lunch?”

Sid sighs. This is definitely opening a Pandora’s box. “Yes,” he agrees. He can feel a lot of eyes on him. “Let’s eat lunch.”

They eat lunch, and then Geno leaves, but not before he kisses Sid again, a little less chaste this time. It’s a good kiss–Sid would expect nothing less, he’s heard the reviews from some of Geno’s exes and hook-ups–and Geno’s eyes gleam when he pulls away, like he got away with something. Sid rolls his eyes, but shoos him out of the office with a, “Go away, I’ve got work to do.”

“Fine. See you tonight?” he asks. Sid raises his eyebrows–they hadn’t had any plans tonight that he knew of, and generally Thursdays are Geno’s nights where he goes out with his Russian friends and has a little taste of home–but Geno gives him a meaningful look, so he nods anyway.

“Yeah, tonight. Bye. Babe,” he adds, because he feels like he should. Then he makes a little face, because that sounded wrong.

Geno is definitely laughing at him, but he leaves with a cheerful wave to Sydney.

Sid turns to go back into his office–then thinks better of it. If they’re going to do this, they’re going to do it.

“Hey, Sydney,” he says, wandering over to her desk. “Sorry, I should have said earlier–but if Geno comes by, you can just always send him over unless I’m in a meeting.”

“Okay, I’ll make a note of it.” Sid can see her physically struggling not to ask for gossip. He waits, and sure enough. “So, that was your…”

In for a penny. “Boyfriend,” Sid confirms.

“He’s cute,” she observes. “He was singing your praises over here.”

Sid rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he does that,” he agrees. “Feel free to tell him to shut up, he needs that sometimes.” Sydney smiles at him, and Sid knows that he’s smiling too. “Anyway, thanks.”

“No problem,” She says. Her voice is definitely warmer.

It annoys Sid to no end, but the thing is–it works.

It’s still slow, but his co-workers definitely are more comfortable with him, as he peppers conversations with casual references to his boyfriend. It’s not much–Sid’s not a sharer by nature, and any more than that would be out of character–but he drops in stories about Geno, that they’ve seen each other. Little things, like he’s noticed Flower and Tanger do with their wives.

It’s easy, anyway. He and Geno have known each other for years, even did live together for a brief summer that mostly worked, and they see each other plenty as friends. The stories he has of Geno could be adapted. He has to make up a little, on the edges–how they got together (right after graduation), a few things about like, anniversaries and such–but even that’s easy. Sid knows how Geno acts, in a relationship–the big, ridiculous romantic gestures and the quiet, abiding loyalty. He can imagine how that would fit with him.

And Geno himself helps too–he’s started stopping by for lunch sometimes, and of course he charms everyone in the office. And, Sid knows, both because he can see it on them and because he knows how this works, they like to see how SId is with Geno. Sid, as Geno has informed him, can tend to be too serious, too intense; apparently having his boyfriend come in and try to bully him around and make Sid roll his eyes a lot humanizes him.

“It’s okay, they figure out you big dork soon,” Geno tells him over lunch one day, when Sid tells him this. Sid rolls his eyes, but lets Geno pat him on the head and grin at him. Sid finds himself smiling back. It’s nice, spending this much time with Geno again. They haven’t hung out this constantly since college, probably, when they were always in and out of each other’s lives. It’s not that Sid ever forgot how much of a constant Geno was to him, how much he steadies him and pushes him, how funny he is, but having it all the time is…nice.

And so is work–they’re coming together, Sid can feel it, how they’re uniting. The big fundraiser–a combination of science fair and art show for the kids, and a bit of a gala for the adults–is going to be great. Sid can feel it in his bones, and also in the work that’s happening. This is what he took this job for.

Geno comes to the gala with Sid. He meets him there, because Flower and Vero had been sniffing around Sid’s apartment before he left–Sid suspects they can smell the fact that he’s in some sort of relationship, even if it’s fake–and they still haven’t told Flower or anyone else of their old college crew what they’re doing. At the potlucks, it’s still just them, and no one’s noticed. Apparently.

But at the gala, it’s the work-them, the pretend them, so Geno finds Sid about half an hour in. Sid might be annoyed at him being late, but it’s Geno so he expected that, and anyway, Sid’s busy.

Busy enough that he doesn’t notice Geno’s there until a hand lands on his shoulder, and Sid almost jumps out of his skin.

“Just me,” Geno announces, laughing openly as the two people Sid was giving instructions to pretend not to laugh. “Not mean to scare.”

“Yes you did,” Sid retorts, then, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Geno smiles at him. He looks good–Geno’s always cleaned up well. And his eyes are warm as he clearly eyes Sid up back. “Look nice.”

“Thanks.” Sid resists the urge, long out-grown, to shove his hands in his pockets. “Um, you too.”

“I know,” Geno agrees easily, which makes Sid snort and nudge him with his shoulder. “Need help?”

“Not right now, I think we’ve got it. You can go get a drink, I’ll find you–”

“Take him with you,” Sam interrupts. “Please. We’ve got this, Sid. Go see your success.”

“But–”

“No, you hear,” Geno tells him, the hand that was on his shoulder sliding around his waist–an easy, proprietary motion. “Come on, we go see projects, talk people into giving money.”

“Yeah, Sid. Go away.” Lisa adds, and Sid makes a face, but it’s good, really. That they’re comfortable enough to joke with him.

“But text–”

“We’ll keep you updated,” Sam assures him, and Sid lets Geno lead him away.

It is fun, to see the kid’s projects. More, it’s rewarding, and Sid clocks the different donors wandering around. “G,” he mutters, “We have to go–”

“Yes, I see,” Geno agrees. “Come, you smile, I be very charming, we get lots of money.”

“Hey, I can be charming!”

“Okay, Sid,” Geno agrees, clearly humoring him. “Let’s go.”

They go. Geno is, as promised, very charming. Sid does smile, but he also talks plenty, which is, in fact, his job.

“Is good? You satisfy?” Geno asks, after a few hours. Sid’s dragged him away for a second to breathe. “Get lots of donations.”

“Yeah,” Sid agrees. He smiles as he looks out at the fundraiser. Then, “Thanks,” he says, not looking at Geno. “For–all this. It was ridiculous and risky, but it helped pull this off.”

Geno nudges at his shoulder, so Sid has to look up at him. Geno’s beaming down at him, the small fond smile that he usually gives Sid bright on his face. It’s the same look he’s given Sid for years. “You and me, best team,” he says, Always.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sid’s known that for years. “But still, thanks.”

Geno’s smiling at him. Then he’s–then something changes, for a fraction of a second, something Sid can’t quite catch.

“G?” Sid asks.

Geno shakes his head. “You know I’m always help, Sid. Whatever you need.”

Sid does know that. Sid’s always known that. But it’s different here, with Geno so close to him, with him smiling that way that’s not the same.

Sid’s not stupid. He knows himself, even if everyone always accuses him of being emotionally immature. He knows what the flip in his stomach means, even if he’s never felt it in this context before. With Geno. With Geno, of all people.

But… “Yeah,” Sid says, and looks away again. He can’t–this is not what this was for. Not what creating a whole relationship between them, of conjuring everything he’d maybe want out of a relationship out of thin air, with Geno there to be funny and ridiculous and attractive to top it off.

He’ll have to cut off the relationship, maybe. Tell Geno it’s over. If only to nip this thing in the bud, before it becomes more.

“Okay?” Geno asks, and nudges Sid. Sid looks up at him again–at his smile, at his concern, at everything about him. His stomach twinges again.

No, Sid’s not going to cut this off, he realizes. It’s stupid and reckless and maybe this is all Geno’s fault, because that’s not him, but–he’s going to take this as long as he can have it.

“Yeah,” Sid says, smiling helplessly back at Geno. Geno is looking at him like he knows he’s lying. “I’m good.”

#pens fic #sidgeno #my fic #i just like competent Sid and loyal Geno and Sid being most of the Pen's impulse control #Anonymous #pens tumblr fic

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