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slutforstabbings-archive · 1 year

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Clean Again

Chapter 12: THORNS read on AO3 | previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure to check AO3 for this fic's playlist and other extras! Corey comes down... general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter - oops! all angst 3,397 words @rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @cordelium @toxicanonymity @multifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @futurewife @yllcm @ethanhoewke dm me or reply to this post to be added to the tag list 💕

Your car will never be a show car. While it's in impressively good shape for its age, and people often express surprise about its condition, there has been no blobject renaissance. Cute cars from the era of soft shapes are firmly out. Nobody is desperately searching for a PT Cruiser. But you love your little jelly bean to death, and for years it’s been a thorn in your side that the first thing you did at 16 upon being given full control is switch the radio out.

You just had to have a CD player and an aux port for your iPod, the cassette converter thingy wasn’t good enough for you. The aftermarket radio wound up looking dumb, the design severely clashing with the rest of the car’s knobs and gauges, and the CD player skipped at every tiny pothole and rock you drove over. It’s exceedingly low priority – you’ve been dealing with it so long that most days you don’t even notice, and in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter much at all – but for a while you've been set on reinstalling the factory radio someday.

You told Corey this early on, just in passing. You had no reason to think that he had internalized it. You didn’t realize at the time how Corey held onto things, good, bad, and neutral, with white knuckles in his heart. So, unbeknownst to you, he’s been looking for the right radio ever since. Now you sit in the backseat watching him disconnect the aftermarket radio’s wiring harness, half of your dashboard piled up in the driver's seat. You still haven't talked to him about the birthday thing.

The drive home Wednesday night was quiet, just the road noise and the local college radio station turned low. Corey slumped against the passenger window with glazed eyes. When you glanced over at him, it seemed like he was barely there. You cursed yourself for thinking he could handle the hotbox, feeling bad because you knew it probably made his anxiety worse instead of better, and annoyed because you needed to talk to him about this birthday bullshit, but he was already going to be bummed out from the comedown. How hard would it have been for you to suggest snuffing out the joint as soon as you started to notice Corey getting wobbly? Of course not passing it to him wasn’t enough when the entire car was one swirling cloud.

When you got home he was even clingier than normal, stalking you through your apartment with hunched shoulders until you sat on the couch and patted your thighs, beckoning him to come lay his head in your lap.

That was when the floodgates opened. He must've been even worse off than you had thought, he didn't seem to have come down much at all yet. He was confused about why it was so different from last time, and reassurances that it was normal did nothing to quell his building panic. Despite your best effort to get him to resist, he followed the paranoia all the way down the rabbit hole, worrying that the joint was spiked, that Veronica had mixed something else with the weed, that she hated him, that he’d feel weird for the rest of his life.

“Will you still love me if I feel this weird forever?” He asked, like he’d already been devastated by the answer.

“You’re not going to feel weird forever, Corey.”

“But would you love me if I did?”

“I’d love you no matter what.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he insisted with tears in his eyes.

Like the night you watched The Lobster, you suddenly felt like you weren't really talking about him being stoned forever. Self-inflicted, you thought, and your annoyance settled into guilt.

You swept your hand over his forehead, brushing his curls back. “I would.”

You finally convinced him that he'd feel better if he took a shower. When he got out, you were lying in bed on your back, staring up at the ceiling. How had you let yourself make it this far without knowing his birthday? How could you miss such a big gap in your basic knowledge of him? And the date had come and gone since you met him! Did he say something and you just forgot? Are you a terrible girlfriend?

Corey came into the room in his boxers, his skin still hot and pink, his hair towel dried. He curled up next to you with his head on your chest, and before you could say anything to him at all, he was asleep.

It feels like a rain cloud following you around. It's only been a couple days, but the window is closing, the problem edging closer and closer to being something you have to just let go. And you've considered letting it go. You're not mad at him, he doesn't seem to even realize you didn't know, and now you do know. The weak, sad version of you that stayed with Orin so long, that took forever to break things off with Hurley, certainly would have left it alone. But that feels like a regression. There just hasn't been a good time to bring it up yet.

And now isn't a good time either. You've established a precedent, beginning all those weeks ago when he came to fix your sewing machine – you let him work in silence. If either of you speaks, it's always him who initiates, explaining what he’s doing, asking you to reposition the flashlight, giving you instructions for a task that requires more delicate fingers than his. It must be more than 100 degrees in the car, but the sweat that beads your forehead isn’t from the heat.

In front of you, Corey’s already securing the radio cage back into the dash, wordlessly reaching between the seats for you to hand him the screws one by one. The humidity turns his hair into a frizzy halo all around his head. You know he’s no angel, but his presence in your life feels like such a blessing, and while you might not be angry, the conversation will still be a confrontation. You’re terrified of pushing him away, scaring him off, like taking a step too quickly towards a backyard deer you want to eat out of your hand. If you’re not careful he’ll startle, bolting back into the woods, and you’ll be left standing there alone with a handful of wasted oats. He snaps the last piece of your dashboard into place, then rotates to look at you.

“Moment of truth,” he says. “Keys?”

You hand him your keys and he cranks the engine. Blue-green digits appear on the display. He clicks the radio’s power button and the speakers hum lowly with static. He spins the knob back and forth and the volume rises and falls. He presses a few of the other buttons, making sure the functions of all the rainbow wires he twisted together are present and accounted for, then he sets your clock and station presets for you.

"All good," he announces.

"Yay!" You exclaim. "It's so nice to have her back to her original glory. I can't wait to start buying tapes from work. Thank you so much, Corey." You lean forward over the center console to give him a gentle, lingering kiss.

"No problem." He clears his throat.

"How did you find it anyway?"

"I had some alerts set on parts websites. I almost had it a couple times but I kept losing it. Auction ending while I was at work, shit like that. I had to fight for this one. Like, I got in a bidding fight for it."

You sense an opening. It’s not a good one, but you take it before you can change your mind. “I guess Madame Veronica was right,” you say.

“What do you mean?” Corey asks.

“The shit she said about Aries. They like a challenge and fight for their loved ones or whatever.”

He just looks at you and shakes his head no.

“Do you remember that conversation at all?” You ask. “You were pretty far gone.”

“It’s all fuzzy. She complimented Dad’s ring. I got a sandwich. The bathroom was really clean.” He shrugs.

Fuck, you think, somehow both disappointed and relieved. If he doesn’t remember then maybe… Maybe it actually would be okay to just let it go. Maybe it isn’t regression. The old you avoided conflict for your own sake, because you didn’t want to make yourself feel bad. But this isn’t that. This is a conflict you want to avoid for Corey’s sake. Do you really need to ask him why he didn’t tell you his birthday? The only people who don’t get excited about their birthday are people who were never celebrated enough, and people who wish they were never born in the first place. The implication makes your heart ache. What could you gain from the conversation that you don’t already know? Why hurt him needlessly?

“Yeah. I’m so sorry about that. When you have a higher tolerance you don’t realize how much it can fuck somebody else up if they don’t have a tolerance at all. You don’t remember what happened when we got home either?”

He shakes his head again. That settles it. If he doesn’t know how badly he spiraled, his overall impression of the night is probably pretty good, right? Why soil what little he remembers with a question that will feel like an accusation, no matter how much you insist it’s not?

“Well, what happened?”

“I got you to take a shower to sober up, but you didn’t sober up at all, you just rolled straight out of the shower and into bed. Out like a light.”

Corey chuckles and it makes you giggle. Your giggle makes him laugh harder. His wide, dimpled smile floods you with affection. You crane over the center console to kiss him again, turning his laughter into a buzzing sound inside his face. The commercial block on the radio ends and the station identifies itself over the sparkling acoustic guitar of a late 90’s bubblegum pop hit. The song is cheesy, but the sentiment resonates. Would you love him, no matter what? I would.

You kiss him until the song ends. His face is damp and shiny when you pull away.

“Let’s go inside,” you say. “It’s way too fucking hot out here.”

Not long after you go inside, the sky turns a menacing gray, any trace of the sun blotted out. You hear distant thunder like a giant’s stomach rumbling, just as fat raindrops start to splash against the windows. You turn off all the lights in favor of a hoard of candles and the glow of the TV. Corey lays on the couch and you tangle yourself in his legs, settling in to play Smash Bros until your thumbs go numb. You’re extremely impressed with how good he’s gotten, and how quickly, but you’re far too competitive to allow the student to surpass the master, his every skill increase prompting one for you too. Almost every match goes into sudden death. When you can’t take another tie, you blow out all the candles and drag him off to bed.

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

Corey wasn’t completely honest with you about what he remembers from Wednesday night. He didn’t quite lie, but he left something out, more of an impression than a memory. The impression that Veronica is a severe threat, well beyond the level of any other person in his life.

The impression that she’s more dangerous than Phil and Joanna, who don’t understand the internet and have helped him enough to be implicated should anything happen, more dangerous than his boss Will, who only pays half of his employees the way the government requires him to and would have to answer for all the taxes he and Corey haven’t paid. The impression that she’s more dangerous than even you, the person most sure of the good inside him, but with the most information to damn him, and the best chance of convincing a DA that he manipulated you into protecting him, blinding you with gifts and acts of service. The impression that Veronica could, would, and will destroy everything he's worked so hard for. It's only a matter of when.

That timer has been ticking since the first fateful day at the library, but the countdown has accelerated now, and will only keep getting faster, without the gravity of a looming first meeting weighing it down. He felt pressured to say yes to Veronica's joint without the reasonable protest of pot being illegal, and he senses he'll feel pressured to say yes to more and more social outings without the reasonable protest of not liking new people. But she's not new anymore, you'll say, batting your pretty puppy eyes. And Corey will have no choice but to follow you to his own undoing.

In the dark he pulls you closer, wishing desperately that there was a way to have you all to himself.

Corey’s intuition that meeting Veronica had broken the barrier between your time with him and the rest of your social calendar proves true two weeks later. He’s in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes when he hears you answer a phone call. He freezes in place, fork resting against the half-scraped plate he holds over the trash can.

“No, I’m not busy… Right now? Yeah I can… Yeah, he’s here… Okay, I’ll offer those suggestions, haha… Alright, see you in 15. Love you!”

He’s still standing hunched over the garbage, paused mid-scrape when you come into the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” You ask, noticing his unnatural posture.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, resuming his task and trying not to panic. “Who were you talking to?”

“Rose. She needs some pants hemmed and she wanted to know if she could bring them by tonight. I told her it was okay, she said she understands if you just wanna stay in a different room while she’s here. I have to mark where the hem should be while she’s wearing the pants, but that should only take like 10 minutes.”

Corey puts the dishes in the sink, very careful not to set them down with too much force, despite the fact that he wants to shatter them on the ground. “That’s fine,” he says.

“Are you sure? I can call her back and tell her to come a different time, or I can run over to her house instead and you can stay here, or sit in the car?”

He weighs his options. There was something you said once. Veronica is a pill, but Rose’s name suits her well. Which means that the consequences of refusing to meet or engage with her are probably minimal, that he can put off the inevitable for a day when he’s more prepared. That is, unless it gets back to Veronica that he avoided Rose. She would certainly think that reflected badly on him. And Rose allegedly being a sweetheart also means she could be an asset, a second sympathetic voice in chorus with yours. Veronica hearing that he agreed to meet her, having her vouch for him… This could be the one time meeting a new person is a good idea. If he never has to be in a position like this again, it would be too fucking soon.

“It’s fine,” he affirms.

You come around the island to wrap your arms around him, smooching him all over his face. “Thank you, baby,” you murmur in his ear between kisses.

Baby. The word dissolves his bones, turning him into a puddle at your feet. It’s only the second time you’ve ever called him that, and this time it isn’t mocking like it was when he struggled to hit the bong. This time you mean it. God, he is so fucked. No matter what happens from now on, he’s doomed, he’s damned, he’s absolutely, completely, irreparably fucked. But being torn apart by police dogs, giving the existing bullet hole in his window 1000 new friends in a shootout that he’s destined to lose, even life without parole would be worth it to hear you call him baby. Stupid, lovesick bastard.

When Rose arrives, Corey is sitting at the dining room table.

“Hi, Corey! How are you tonight?” She asks like they're old friends. Her arms are loaded with fabric.

“Uh…Okay, and you?” He responds, caught off guard by just how different she already seems from Veronica.

“I’m great! I’m so stoked for these pants to finally be the right length. Our girl over here is like a wizard, my clothes always come out so good when she fixes them.”

“Oh, stop,” you say, coming into the room with the step stool from the kitchen.

"No, she's right. You always do a good job," he agrees.

Rose goes down the hall to the bathroom, changes into one of the pairs of pants, and comes out to stand on the step stool. The three of you chat while you orbit around her feet with a pin cushion on your wrist, then she hops down to repeat the process. Corey’s shocked to find he enjoys the conversation. Even as it drains him to have his facade of normality tested like this, Rose is a soothing presence and he finds a sort of ease. It’s been so long since he’s done it, it takes him a minute to realize — this is what making a new friend feels like. Of course, any sense of calm Corey feels can only ever be short lived.

"Are you joining us for the bonfire, Corey?" Rose looks over her shoulder to address him as you pin the final pair of pants.

“What bonfire?” he asks.

“We haven’t talked about it yet,” you say.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring it on you." She looks between you, apologetic frown on her face.

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“What bonfire?” Corey asks again.

“The annual Plymouth Records Summer Solstice bonfire,” you explain. “The store is closed that day and we all have a big party at the owner Gordon’s parents’ house. Is it his parents or maybe his aunt and uncle..?”

“I think it’s his uncle,” Rose says.

“Right, it’s Gordon’s uncle’s house and it’s a big mansion on a bunch of acres in the middle of nowhere, and like, everybody in the scene comes and we just celebrate the longest day of the year.”

“It’s always a great time. This year Drew’s renting a smoker and everyone else is bringing meat and veggies for it! Who doesn’t love barbecue?”

Corey does love barbecue, but there is no food on Earth delicious enough to make him excited for a party in a mansion with all of your coworkers and God knows who else. He can see it now, one person stumbling up to him, insisting they know each other from somewhere. Another overhearing and joining in the guessing game. He does look awfully familiar. Everyone in the whole house studying his face and whispering suggestions into each other’s ears until a blood curdling scream cuts through all the noise and 100 fingers point at him. That’s the guy that killed that kid! He didn’t just kill a kid, he killed his own mother! How convenient to have a violent mob descend on him at a bonfire. All they’ll need to do is find a stake.

Rose leaves to change again.

“I’m sorry, Corey,” you say. “I didn’t want to present it to you like that.”

“Can we talk about it later?”

“Of course.”

A door down the hallway opens. Rose returns in the outfit she came in, and hands you the pants you’d pinned, folded into a neat stack. The vibe is awkward now. She doesn’t stick around.

“Well, y’all have a good night. It was nice to meet you, Corey.”

“You too,” he says.

And it was. It’s not her fault wanted killers and backyard parties don’t mix. He just hopes that he was right about the protection being in her good graces might afford him. Clearly, he’s going to need it. She waves as she slips out the door. You close it behind her and flip the deadbolt lock into place for the night.

#100F is 37.78c lol #corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #mine #fan fic #cc

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hogmilked · 2 years

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would you ever buy a [insert car that other people think is cringe but you think is neat]

(yes this is an open invitation to ramble about cars)

KISSING YOU ON THE MOUTH BESTIE

ok ok so yes i am going to go ramble but i’ll keep it relatively short

HERE ARE MY TOP FIVE DOGSHIT CARS I LOVE SO SO MUCH

5. Pontiac Aztek

any time you look up the ugliest cars ever made this will come up on the list and that’s fair because it is ugly as hell BUT i LOVE IT so much it came with a goddamn built in TENT. it was built on a minivan platform so this bitch could haul so much while not being overwhelmingly big. she may be ugly but she has the RANGE honey. and one person’s ugly is another’s quirky. pontiac aztek my beloved one of the only cars made after 1990 i genuinely want

4. Ford Pinto

OK OK HEAR ME OUT LISTEN. YES THIS CAR KILLED PEOPLE. YES EVERY FOR EXEC SHOULD GO TO HELL FOR KNOWING THAT AND NOT RECALLING IT FOR YEARS. BUT. they did eventually fix that pesky little exploding issue and what was left was a capable, fun, gorgeous little economy car, and models with the gas tank issue addressed have proven to be relatively reliable for 40 year old american economy cars

3. 2000s MOPAR

yeah this was a dogshit era for dodge/chrysler/jeep but i’m so deeply enamored by all these dramatically failed experiments. the dodge caliber, dodge magnum, chrysler pt cruiser, plymouth prowler, SO many bad cars that kinda bang. to me. they all have the energy of those fossil pokemon from sword and shield that clearly want nothing more than death but you can’t help but love their cheap, plastic, dogshit charm

2. Nissan Murano CrossCabriolet

Ok so technically i don’t want one per se although that’s more because i hate almost all cars made after 2000, but this thing got so much hate and like i get it but i fucking love convertible suvs and i think there should be more. yes i know the bronco and wrangler exist rn but i need more with barbie energy like this. chop the top off a rav4 and maybe i’ll consider a car payment. i won’t but like maybe

1. MALAISE ERA BABYYYYYY

Here’s some more specifics about the malaise era but this is the era of cars i’m probably the most autistic about lmao, american cars from the mid 70s to the early 80s. tldr during this time the government was cracking down on efficiency and fuel consumption so american car manufacturers had to start figuring out how to make their giant gas guzzling giants of the road more economical. on top of that imports from japan were getting popular, which were smaller, cheaper, and easier to drive. america however was stupid and full of cocaine so they kept making giant cars but just made them cheaper and less powerful. this didn’t mean smaller engines mind you, it just meant they choked the existing giant engines and made them weaker. so the cars from this era are still huge and clunky but now with more plastic and less horsepower while still weighing the same, which means they all drive like fucking trucks, even the smaller ones. eventually manufacturers either figured out how to make economy cars (though they still weren’t as efficient as japanese ones) but for a chunk of time in the late 70s american cars were ugly, underpowered, and kinda cheap. and i LOVE them. i love the brown on brown on brown, love the tackiness, love the underpowered v8 engines. malaise era my beloved ❤️❤️

#mothman speaks #mothman answers #thanks bestie for encouraging me to ramble

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bellygunnr · 1 year

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[Photo from this article]

This is a Chevy HHR. This is a Chevy HHR in the "panel van" configuration.

This is a Chevy HHR Panel van SS. In this specification, this car boasts the turbocharged 4-banger from quirky gems like the Pontiac Solstice, Saturn Sky, and Chevy Cobalts. Unfortunately, unlike these roadsters, it's a goddamn van meant to butt heads with the PT Cruiser and has no business hosting 260 horses or a 5-speed manual.

But it does. And two-hundred-something souls thought it'd fit their lifestyle, so two-hundred-something units exist, languishing as relics of the bygone era of 2008 in junkyards or backyards or as faithful companions to anyone silly enough to still drive these things.

Look at it.

My first exposure to a Chevy HHR SS, with the windows, was a car show. None of them liked this car. The car, spec'd for road courses and awards to its name, did not receive a single kind word in the 10-15 minutes I spent in earshot of it. It was an oddity, a strange animal, an unfortunate, confused beast, in the land of Ferraris and cosseted muscle cars.

And I get it! I get it! Look at this fucking thing! The unfortunate bloated cousin of its peers! You'll look at the Ion and Cobalt and go, what the fuck? How did we get here? Who would own this? Why do you own this, if you do? Does it give you joy? It doesn't give me any joy to look at this thing and yet--

I can't think of a single better vehicle to star in my stupid fucking story. My stupid, awful band of idiots, whose vibes are all so rancid that the sweet, curvacious shell of a Chevy HHR is the only thing that can contain them.

And I hate it. I do. I don't want to like this car. I don't want to have to write about this car. And yet. I'm a weak-willed motherfucker and I can't find or THINK of a single better or alternative car! Fuck!

#it can no longer be denied #i have a station wagon temperament #humanity struggling gang ocs #specifically foxtrot and colorado and D #im going to frow up

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renee-ruby-j · 2 years

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[image description: a purple banner that has the words "work in progress" on it. end of description]

@ternaryflower53 inspired this with a lovely comment on the boudoir photoshoot fic appreciating my personal favorite bit to write: supportive big sister Thalia!

I proceeded to run away with it. Whoops.

Without further ado:

Untitled Thundersibs Coming-Out Fic!

Hey. There's something important I need to tell you. Can you come over sometime soon? Don't worry; I'm okay.

Thalia tries not to let herself catastrophize as she drives, but it's surprisingly difficult. Typically, when Jason needs to talk, he'll just use his key: she'll find him in her kitchen banging a tray of macarons on the counter, and he'll get whatever it is out of his system while he bakes and leave the treats with her to distribute among the girls at the shelter.

He's nervous about something. Nervous about her reaction. He wanted to prepare in advance, be on his home turf.

"He is not dying," Thalia mutters to herself, her jaw clenched. "If he were dying, they would have found it when they were testing him last year. It's just the fibro. He's just too tired to come to you."

That line of thinking is better, but it still doesn't help much. Ever since his most recent knee surgery, Jason has been feeling sickly and under the weather; on bad days, he can't even stand to be touched without flinching, which throws most of Thalia's methods of comforting him out the window and leaves her helpless.

There's nothing she can do to fix his pain. She can't soothe it away with a kiss. She wishes desperately that she could take it from him, suffer it so he doesn't have to. He's suffered more than enough already.

She pulls into his driveway, her heart fluttering in her throat like a terrified hummingbird, and parks Medusa behind Jason's blue minivan. There's a bumper sticker on the back.

If you can read this, you're too f**king close!

It probably came from Nico, whose PT cruiser is next to Percy's bike in the open garage. Of course they're both home; Nico doesn't have class on Fridays, and Percy's on the closing shift at Spectrum.

"Stop it," Thalia whispers to herself. "If it was something bad, he wouldn't have told you he's okay. Calm down."

(She doesn't quite believe herself. Jason's not exactly the type to let on when something's wrong; telling her not to worry is almost reflexive for him, at this point.)

If it is bad, he'll need her. That thought is enough to kick her into movement.

Her mind races as she gets out of the car and squelches through the mud to the front porch. It's a good thing she wore boots today, but she always forgets how much colder it is outside the city, and her black jean jacket is too thin for the salty air.

At least it gives her a reason to be trembling slightly as she rings the doorbell.

Percy's the one who answers. He's flushed, but he's smiling as he pulls open the door, paneled in stained glass, which is a good sign. If something was wrong, he'd know, possibly even before Jason did.

"Shoes off so Nico doesn't kill me," he says cheerfully, dragging her into a hug once she's inside. "Your baby's just getting dressed. We were thinking we'd have coffee here, then hit the new Thai place downtown, if that's cool with you."

The embrace lingers for a second, and Thalia pretends she doesn't appreciate the warmth. She nods against Percy's shoulder, clears her throat and steps back.

"Are you making the coffee?"

"Of course I am." Percy heads for the kitchen while Thalia crouches down to unlace her boots, calling over his shoulder so she can still hear. "I'm only banned from touching the espresso machine before ten in the morning, and it's past noon. Mocha, right? Double shot, half and half?"

He says it casually, but it's proof that she's not hiding her tension. They're a lot alike in a lot of ways, including their caffeine habits; he knows it'll calm her down, but he also knows she'd rather not admit it.

"Sounds good," she answers, glad he can't see her smile.

She leaves her muddy boots by the door and pads into the living room on socked feet. The couch is empty. She can hear new wave music upstairs (probably Nico in his study), movement from Jason and Percy's bedroom just down the hall, and the hissing of steam from the kitchen.

It's okay. He's okay. He's fine.

The door to Jason's room opens. She hears the jangling of a collar and her baby brother's sweet, soft voice as he talks to the dog. She can't quite make out the words, but she can tell that she was right; he's nervous.

She wants to get up and run to him, throw her arms around him and pull him tight and tell him everything will be okay. She forces herself to let him gather whatever courage he needs to, to wait for him to come to her.

She sees Mrs. O'Leary first, her huge tongue lolling from her mouth as she trots into the living room entryway. Jason follows closely behind, using her to brace his weight.

No. To brace her weight.

That's a woman, standing shyly in the doorway with her dog at her side.

She's tall, with long blonde hair that falls in soft waves over her shoulders. The dress she's wearing is simple, but elegant, made of white fabric patterned in pink and purple roses. Her feet are bare; the dress looks handmade, but shoes are going to be a little trickier for her, as big as she is.

Her eyes, lined with gray liner and shimmering with pearlescent silver shadow, are wide and lovely and terrified.

The instant relief is so strong that Thalia bursts out laughing without meaning to. Before her sister (holy shit, she has a sister) can get the wrong idea, Thalia springs to her feet and strides over and hugs her, as tightly as she can.

"Oh, honey, I thought— you scared the fuck out of me; I thought you were going to tell me something was wrong!"

All at once, her baby sibling relaxes like a popped balloon. Mostly, anyway; her arms stay where they are, locked tight around Thalia's waist.

"I don't know why I was nervous about how you'd react. Percy kept telling me it would be okay. I should have listened to him."

"Rubes, we've been over this. That's your dad's fault, not yours."

Thalia turns her head. Percy's in the opposite doorway, beaming from ear to ear, a mug in each hand. He looks proud, besotted and a little smug, and for once, she has absolutely no desire to question his ego.

"Rubes?"

"She goes by Ruby when she's in Girl Mode," Percy explains, venturing fully into the living room. "Two doubleshot mochas for my favorite pair of sisters." He sets the mugs on coasters to protect the coffee table and heads back into the kitchen, whistling something upbeat and in a major key.

"Which isn't all the time," Ruby adds, blushing. "I'm trying out 'genderfluid' as a label, but I know for sure I'm nonbinary. I still have Jason days."

"But sometimes, you have Ruby days, too," Thalia finishes, startled to hear herself choking up a little. She reaches up and gently cups Ruby's cheek. "Which is a beautiful name for my beautiful baby sister."

"Tell her the rest," Percy calls, over the sounds of making his own coffee.

Ruby takes Thalia's hand and leads them to the couch, Mrs. O'Leary following obediently beside her.

Her eyes are misty. Thalia's heart thuds in her chest at the open emotion.

"Actually, Ruby's my middle name. My first name is Renée, after the best mom a girl could ever ask for."

The world stops spinning. All that exists is their hands, squeezing tight.

Up until this moment, Thalia has mostly heard that name spoken in anger. Thalia Renée, are you listening to me?

This time, this one single utterance, erases all of those memories and leaves behind nothing but joy.

She breaks down sobbing, beyond any words more complex than I love you, thank you, I'm so happy for you. Ruby indulges all of it, laughing and trembling from what must be a ridiculous amount of left-over adrenaline, never loosening her grip.

Mrs. O'Leary, bless her, even puts her enormous paw in Thalia's lap as though to console her. Not that she needs consolation; it's just that an emotion this huge can't help but spill over.

The best mom a girl could ever ask for.

"I guess I must have done a decent job," she sniffs after a few minutes, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "I raised a pretty fucking kickass daughter, anyway."

Ruby (it suits her; elegant and ladylike and vibrant) just beams back at her, still holding her hand.

#nonbinary!jason grace #stellarverse #thundersibs are go #i wrote this #wip wednesday

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ns-games · 2 years

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Pokécar story

Some of you may recall seeing pictures of this 2001 Chrysler PT Cruiser that was modified to look like the Legendary Pokémon Lugia. Five of these cars were built to tour the United States to promote the then new video games Pokémon Gold and Silver editions. Even if you never saw this car in person, you more than likely saw it in a gaming magazine or in some other kind of promotional media.

Despite living in a small town located near a major city, I knew that I was never going to see this car in person. And even though one of these cars did indeed make a stop near where I lived, I never got to see it during the promotion.

Now, after this promotion concluded, you would have thought that Nintendo of America would have had these cars either destroyed or had their modifications removed before selling them second hand. But they actually ended up in the hands of private collectors (or at least one of them did).

See, despite thinking that there was no way I’d ever see one of these cars in my home town, in recent years I’ve caught glimpses of one driving up and down U.S. Route 12 in my home home town. There was a nearby resident that ran a small used games booth at the Volo Antiques Mall in Volo, IL that acquired one of these cars and drove it around from time to time.

I mean, it’s crazy for me to think about. Something that 11-year-old me would have been crazy about getting to see in person. And here it is almost 20 years later parked in the parking lot of the fast food restaurant I used to work for.

A few years back I got to speak with the owner of the car. He was on the verge of retiring due to health reasons. According to him this was the last of these cars still in existence. I’m not sure how true that story is. But last I checked this car was on sale on the Volo Auto Museum’s website. I’m not sure if it sold yet or what it’s ultimate fate is. Hopefully whichever private collector ends up owning this car takes good care of it and can work on restoring some of its modifications.

#pokemon #Pokecar #Lugia #gold and silver

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orphancookie69 · 8 months

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Car Purchases 101

Cars, car maintenance, and car purchases are all such interesting yet varied knowledge topics. Cars seem like you go all in or enough to get you to work and that's it. Let's talk about purchase types a bit.

Background:

These kind's of posts I tend to like to start with my background in this. I come from a family of mechanics and car enthusiasts. While I am female, I never minded getting my hands dirty with a car or a DIY project. This can very easily be seen as a manly thing, or a sexist thing as women with cars tends to be sexy or wannabe manly. My mom got her license as soon as she could. For me driving was boo. I was in my late teens/early 20's when I got my license.

My first car was a Green Honda Element. I got it as a gift for my 16th birthday (I think)? I had asked for a shopping trip, but got a car. My grandfather used to run a towing company and had easy access to cars. My stepdad drove it, usually taking me to college before I had to go to LA for year 2. It eventually got sold and the money went to my moms Ice Cream Truck business. That eventually got sold so that she can be an air stewardess.

Once I had my license, my dad and I got a loan together to get my first real car. My mom would not let me have my dream car, Mini Cooper. So we as a family "settled" on Chrysler PT Cruiser. I loved that car, it fit so many people. It was like a race car but on a budget. I moved out of state with that car. I came back. My mistake was letting a family member borrow it, after a long drive back to California, and they cracked the frame and the car was totaled.

With this I decided, and partially had to, get a new car. I wanted to enjoy the "new car" experience. I got a Dodge Caliber, and it wasn't bad, but it was the only car I did not like or love. I eventually traded it in for my Mini Cooper Clubman. My dream car. It was a loaner car, but it has all the bells and whistles. I have paid it off and will drive it as long as I can.

So, If I have my dream car-why would I make any other purchases? My partner likes to have more than one vehicle. He drove Toyota Prius for 10 years, and we did some car shuffling. He tried a Toyota Highlander, which was nice. It was a good car for family but not as a commuter. So, the commuter was Ford Fusion. Not bad, but still one of my least favorite cars. While the Fusion is on its way out, he decided to play with Electric vehicles and got a Hyundai Ioniq 5. He tried to talk me into a Tesla and I was like hard no.

Types of Cars:

Gasoline: Ya know your normal car.

Hybrid: Electric and Gasoline.

Electric: Using only electricity as a form of gas.

Fuel Cell Electric Vehicles: Using natural gas as a form of gas.

There is getting to be a case for Electric, but we as a society are not prepared to all be on it. Gas is not bad, but there is a really hard case to make for what the objectively best option is. Fuel Cell is not bad, but not enough stations.

There is another big question...

American: There is pride about American cars or american jobs.

Foreign: Some of the better designs and technology comes from non american brands.

Cars are such a changing industry, from types of cars made to car brands. Some brands retain their value better, and some brands play price games because everything seems to get more expensive.

Types of Purchases:

Buying: You would make monthly payments, with a trade in or money down, for X amount of years.

Leasing: You would make monthly payments, can use a trade in or money down, for X amount of years. You have a limit on how many miles you can put on it, and an option to buy it out at the end of the lease. You can also make one payment for all the payments and play with the interest rate.

Do your research, and when you go to make your purchase-have confidence. Don't get pushed around by people who need to make a sale. You need car salesman, and he needs you. We are all part of an ecosystem. Have fun getting a car and drive like you care about your fellow drivers!

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the-firebird69 · 11 months

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This will give you an idea of the size and what do you have on the top side is going to be just a roll cage that's integral and glass and the glass doesn't weigh much and the cage doesn't and it's lower to the ground and we will have it up a little higher it won't look this high but it will be to fit larger people who are 5'10 or 6 ft but really ideal height is about 55 but everything can be adjusted and it's a nice length it's very handy it's about a foot or a foot and a half longer than the extended mini or the mini pickup and they're very handy and you can make a larger mini pickup and people want that to be crying for it and they want a flatbed and all this and we can make that too we are going to switch over to metal and some of the upcoming days possibly a week at the longest and we are working with the politics it's tough okay but we're going to do it because this idea is so huge the number of cars that can be converted because they still work are enormous a lot of people don't like driving their SUV around it's too difficult and they say it I can't see this smoke the windows and stuff and people can't see me and we look like we're thugs and doesn't handle well and I go around the corner it feels like it's going to fall over all the time and the cars don't carry anything and I have a son felt it all the time so I can't move I can't bring my stuff I need to bring my stuff back and forth to work and I can't I need to do side jobs and I can't this would be great for him and he's probably going to get one he says and probably the the Woody and we're going to call it in honor of his neighbor who keeps on Amy's butt at him. And our son says just cuz he aims it at me. And he likes it because it'll make him popular but really it's a good time this is going to work and there's so many of these vehicles about half of them are all wheel drive and it'll be great because you can use them for all sorts of things that that people do these SUVs are useless they get stuck so easy and the tires are wrong so we're going to offer a kit and we can offer the tires at least and he says perfect maybe a high speed all terrain and they don't get stuck and we're going ahead now what an awesome idea

Thor Freya

He says it's such an awesome idea that he can hardly believe that he was thinking it and it's true too but there's a ton of older SUVs that work and people don't drive them they bought cars and they can't move stuff around and they're frustrated there's really no room to put stuff in them for the most part it's only a small microwave and it's limited it's not so small when you open up the back of the mini and the glass is higher it's about 6 in higher and 6 in wider and so he's looking out at this SUV and he's thinking where can I use that for and he sees people are upset with it and they've been that way for a while and the meeting is an acquired taste PT cruiser had one but they made it useless by shrinking the back but here we go this this is a useful vehicle and you can fit during the weekend he can do work and holidays he can bring his stuff I'm going to be around too and he wants to do work with me and things I can't wait it was very hard and harsh on both of us but not really that bad and we liked each other a lot and loved each other a lot is a great idea.

Hera

There's a lot of people who are naming it Woody. And we like it the mini Woody and they know why and the clothes like it and the guy is trying to say he doesn't

Olympus

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le-ciel-estbleu · 2 years

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Are you between the ages of 30 & 40? in 9 months i will be -_-

What was your favorite toy as a child? i can't recall,i liked a great many things as i remember

How much was a gallon of gasoline when you first started driving? i wish i remember.

What was your first car? PT cruiser

Who taught you how to drive? my friends, my dad

What was your high school mascot? warrior

Did you go to your Senior Prom? yes

What did you do after graduation? worked, moved away with my brother, met my future husband while working away from home.

What was your first job? administrative assistant for a paralegal at a small law firm in the next town

What did you want to be when you grew up? actress.

Any posters on your bedroom walls growing up? yes

Do you remember the first time you drank a beer? yes, my dad gave me a sip of his budweiser and i thought it was nasty.

Did you ever try cigarettes? unfortunately

If you could change anything from your teenage years, would you? yes but would i be the same person?

Do you remember your first time? yes

Ever look back and wish some things were still the same? no, if things were the same then you would live the same day over and over again. that would be boring now wouldn't it

After high school - straight to college or straight to work? straight to work

How much did you make per hour at your first job? i can't remember, very little though.... 8.25 maybe?

Favorite home-cooked meal growing up? beef stroganof

Favorite place to eat out growing up? john harvards brew house

Did your parents live in a different country before you were born? yes

Do you have a preferred coffee brand? vermont coffee company

Have you ever dated someone who was terrible with money? yes

If so, how did it affect the relationship? we were young so it didn't really matter much

How often do you paint your nails? barely ever, i like my toes painted though

What is something you frequently forget? my brain

How do you feel about your body? i liked it better before

If you had to move to a new city, where would you move? concord nh

Have you ever traveled on a double-decker train? no, double decker bus though in NYC

What jobs did your parents have when you were growing up? massage therapists

Do they still have these jobs? Or different jobs? Or have they retired? my dad has the same job, my mom doesn't

Do you own any winter sports equipment? yes, i can't wait to go snow shoeing

Do you have a cell contract plan, or are you on a pre-paid plan? unfortunately a contract i think, but i hope i could get out of it because i'm shopping around and i think i can get a cheaper deal. Verizon is so fucking expensive, its ridiculous for one person to pay over $100 just for themselves.

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say? i'm sorry, i hope you can find solace and move on.

Do you play video games? i used to play more but i have several consoles and many games

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged?

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you? sometimes it seems so

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? had some s'mores a few weeks ago i think?

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? always at the same time every morning, 5 fucking am or 4 something right before my alarm. so annoying

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? i love to, im a weirdo like that

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collecting-stories · 4 years

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Bake-off - Holiday Special - pt. 1

Request: Yes but I can’t find the original request for a part 2.

A/N: I’m posting the 2nd part of this holiday special of bake-off on Thanksgiving. I know there was no actual baking in this one but there will be in the 2nd, promise.

Bake-off pt. 1 | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“Pumpkin pie.” JJ asked, holding the phone out to you, a video of someone making pumpkin pie playing across the screen. You scrunched your nose at the thought of a weed infused pumpkin pie and shook your head, the flavor was already hard to get right, you didn’t want to fuck with it further. “Well what do you propose?”

“Thanksgiving themed cake-pops?” You suggested, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged on the bench in the breakroom. You had a few minutes before the after-school kids got to the club and you were sitting in the breakroom with JJ while he changed for work. He had proposed the idea of making Thanksgiving themed baked goods. A decent idea but maybe not necessarily the easiest to execute.

“Making an orange cake pop is not a Thanksgiving dessert.” He replied, scrolling down his feed to see if there were any other suggestions for acceptable desserts that he thought the two of you could make into edibles, “you need to be more creative.”

“I’m totally creative,” you replied. “I’m also realistic. No dreams of grandeur for me.” In the few months that you and JJ had properly come to know each other and had started whatever version of dating the two of you were currently doing, money from edibles had been rolling in pretty steadily. So much, in fact, that you bought a new laptop and your phone outright. No rent to own, second hand pawn shop, crap.

“I don’t know what that means.” JJ admitted, looking up at you.

“Dude,” Andrew cut into your conversation, popping his head into the breakroom, “get dressed, your shift starts in three minutes.”

JJ huffed, “yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He replied, finally putting his phone down. You waved to Andrew as he left and turned to face JJ as he slipped the button-down white shirt on. He had been standing there in the club issued slacks, unbuttoned and unzipped, no shirt, distracted by his phone and you had been shameless enjoying the view while you waited for the bus to start your own shift. “I hate wearing this thing. It’s not fair you get to wear leggings.”

“I run around with little kids. You can wear leggings too if you wanna run around with little kids all afternoon.” You smiled when he glared at you.

“That’s not what I meant, I just meant I wanna wear comfortable clothes. Not this dumb shit.” He muttered.

You got off the bench, coming over and grabbing his bowtie, slipping it around his neck and clipping it into place, “I know but you look so hot in your busboy outfit.” You reasoned, kissing him.

“Oh yeah?” He grinned.

You kissed him one more time before stepping away, “think of something for Thanksgiving.” You said before leaving the breakroom and heading out front to meet the school bus of kids there for the aftercare program.

You hadn’t broached the subject yet with JJ, considering all you had spent the afternoon talking about was edibles, but your mom had asked you to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner. Off the island, at your grandparent's farm, it was a four-hour trip and you usually stayed the weekend and your mom had never invited another person to join in the family thanksgiving before.

He had inducted you into his group of friends, albeit reluctantly at first but finally giving in to the pressure they were putting on him and introducing you one afternoon. So, it shouldn’t feel too difficult to ask him to go to Thanksgiving with you. Of course, you weren’t sure you could really qualify what went on between you and JJ a relationship. You made edibles together and then became friends and then became something a little more than friends but it all kind of circled back to the selling and you wondered sometimes if you stopped selling with him would he stop wanting to hang around.

“I saw an old land cruiser down near the docks that’s for sale.” JJ mentioned as he tossed his backpack into your back seat and climbed in the car. He usually drove when the two of you got off, the old two door death trap that you bought off your cousin for $500. It wasn’t much but it got you around the island most of the time and most of the time JJ was with you so you had forgone learning anything about cars, deflecting to him whenever it broke down.

“Are you gonna buy it?” You asked, listening to the car sputter to life as JJ hooked his phone up to listen to music. You slipped your feet out of your shoes and propped them up on the dash. It was insignificant really, if he bought the car or not. He would probably still drive you home from work. Probably to work too. And the car he was looking at was probably in better condition than the one you had but the idea of him buying a new car, a different car, meant that he didn’t need your car. Which somehow felt like him not needing you.

“Maybe. Pope said I should.”

“You should.” You replied. “I don’t think I wanna make edibles for Thanksgiving.”

JJ shrugged, missing the point of your comment, “I guess we can just do regular cookies and stuff, it’s not a big deal.”

“I just...have a lot of like, school work and stuff. I don’t know if I have time to do edibles.” You lied. You were doing fine in school, there was no reason for you to be worried about it and you had nothing else going on outside of school, work, and spending time with JJ.

As he pulled to a stop at a red-light JJ turned toward you, pouting in the dim glow from the dash, doing his best and most pathetic puppy dog look. “Who am I gonna make edibles with?”

“I don’t know...I can give you the recipes or something?” You offered.

“Fine.” He succumbed to your refusal easier than you thought he would and that made you a little disappointed too but you didn’t say anything else about it. The rest of the car ride was just listening to music until he pulled off into John B’s front yard, parking the car by the tree. The first few times he had driven you home from work he had actually driven you first and then walked the rest of the way in the dark to John B’s. Now he usually drove to John B’s and you drove the rest of the way to your house.

JJ leaned over in the dark, kissing you when you turned your head to look at him. You smiled against his lips before kissing him back, hand going up to his neck. “I should go,” you mentioned when he finally pulled away.

“I’ll text you about tomorrow...I took Andrew’s shift to close but I can come over before work.” He replied.

“Okay.” You nodded. He still wanted to come over, even though you told him you didn’t want to make edibles. You climbed out of the car, shutting the passenger door and going around the other side as he got out, leaving the car idling. “I was wondering...do you wanna do Thanksgiving with my family this year? I mean, if you’re not busy.”

JJ smiled, he’d tagged along to Pope’s or Kiara’s on Thanksgiving before but that wasn’t really anything special and mostly they just invited him because they knew he wasn’t having Thanksgiving at home. Which felt a lot different than being invited by you. “Taking me home to meet the family?”

“It’s off the island at my grandma’s...you’d have to travel with us and we’d stay over for the weekend.” You replied, laying out all the details.

“Okay, I’m in.”

“Yeah?” You asked, feeling like you needed the extra verification.

“Thanksgiving with my girlfriend’s family? Yeah.” JJ replied.

“Okay...awesome.” You nodded, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

JJ said goodbye again, stealing another quick kiss before he headed toward the Chateau. You turned to watch him, leaning against your car, mind racing a little bit from what he’d said. His girlfriend. It wasn’t a word he’d used to describe you before and maybe he hadn’t even been thinking when he said it. Or maybe he was more perceptive than you gave him credit for.

“Pecan pie!” You suddenly shouted, a little too loud for that time of night.

JJ turned on the steps, right under the porch light and smiled, seemingly knowing exactly what you were shouting about. “Knew you were holding out on me!”

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builder051 · 3 years

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Whumptober 2021 day 5: Misunderstanding

Nat on fire

Small mentions of drug use, sickness, emeto

___________________________

Nat gets the call to action a few minutes past five on Wednesday morning. Her phone, stashed in the bed and still on its charger , begins to blare loudly, as does the pager she’s long since thrown into the depths of the closet. Once she answers one, they’ll both stop. It’s usually convenient, except that today she’s nowhere near either of them.

On a normal morning, Nat would still be in bed. Probably still in the dregs of REM, but lately, she’s just been drifting off at this hour, the drink and drugs in her system wearing down and leaving her to catch a short rest.

That’s not today, though. It’s the middle of the week, and Nat’s not stupid. She hasn’t shot up in two days. She hates to think that small of a break would put her in withdrawal, for she can’t be that addicted, can she? But that’s about the only logical cause Nat can think of for her sudden and desperate urge to leap out of bed and spill her guts into the toilet.

She’s been at it since…midnight? Maybe two. There was definitely a two showing on her glowing digital alarm clock when she dashed past it and skidded on her knees into the tiny bathroom. Hours have passed; Nat can tell without turning around to look at the clock. Her abdominal muscles have begin to hurt from heaving. She’s distinctly lightheaded, even perched up with the support of the toilet seat. Everything tastes like sour tropical fruit and salt and sweat. And Fury has a general rule about not calling before don’t-be-a-dick o’clock.

There’s a pause in the loud ringing from the bedroom behind her, then it all starts up again. Someone’s hit redial. Nat sighs and leans away from the toilet bowl, testing herself before leaving it completely. She’s fine, though shaky, and her throat seems both abraded and extra wet. “Ok,” she says, trying to push out speech without having to cough first.

Nat reaches around in the now-cold bedclothes and finds her phone, lit up and flashing Fury’s name.

“What?” Nat groans, almost before she has the speaker to her ear.

“Well, good morning to you,” Fury says in a clipped, annoyed tone. “What took you so long?”

“I was asleep…”

“Yeah, well, speedy reaction times are still a thing.”

Nat rolls her eyes, but but the movement brings back full-on nausea, so she stops, presses her shaky, slightly damp hand to her forehead, and takes two steps back until she finds the closet door against which to ground herself.

“Romanov?” Fury seems mildly concerned about her. Or maybe the connection of the call.

“Yeah,” Nat answers. “Here.”

“Briefing at 6:30. Trouble’s come up,” Fury explains shortly. “In country, so at least the flight’ll be short.”

“Urgent, uh, stuff…?” Nat hazards, her head more than her stomach telling her she’d be more comfortable back in the bathroom. She’s sure she’s emptied out, but that doesn’t mean the urge to retch is gone.

“Do I call you in for anything else?” Fury asks, as if she’s stupid.

“Well, um—“

“Briefing. 6:30,”. Fury shores up. “We still have a coffee machine.”

“Oh—“. Nat has to move her hand down over her mouth. “I’m really not feeling—“

“You’re up to it,” Fury says. “I promise. You’ll be finished by lunch, and you can all go and have your little celebratory hamburgers and what all.”

Nat’s going to explode. She presses what she hopes is the red button to end the call and throws her phone back on the bed. Then she turns on the spot and runs the three or four paces it takes to re-enter the bathroom. She bends at the waist and violently heaves, bringing up absolutely nothing except a dribble of foamy spit.

“Fabulous…”. Nat wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, then tries to force her fuzzy brain into motion. She needs to go into the office, there’s really no choice there. Then things are largely up to fate; she can sit seasick through a PowerPoint and bum along on a mission where she may or my not throw up on a jet, or she can get to the office and experience things going downhill from there. Nat can’t visualize an outcome where everything goes well.

Once she’s feeling steady enough, Nat gets back to her feet and turns on the bathroom light. She ignores the pale yellowish ring she’s made in the toilet and grabs a brush to see to her hair. Under the sink there’s a dusty gallon jug of distilled water, probably meant for the steam iron left untouched on the top shelf of the pantry. Fluids are fluids, though, and Nat has no Gatorade at the moment, so she unseals the lid and lifts the heavy bottle with both hands in order to take a drink. The water tastes like plastic, but anything’s better than the horror currently festering behind her molars.

Nat wore clothes to bed, a pair of faded black sweats and a SHIELD academy t-shirt, so she doesn’t bother getting dressed. She shoves her feet into tennis shoes without socks. Then she nabs a plastic grocery sack that’s listlessly floating across the kitchen tile opposite the window unit AC and stashes inside a pair of rolled up jeans and her phone. Nat takes her keys from the hook beside the front door, then takes a last deep breath and steps out into the hazy dawn.

It’s humid, and Nat’s car is covered in soft condensation. The moisture in the air settles on her upper lip, making her feel artificially hot and sick all over again. It’s only for a second, though, for once Nat’s in her vehicle, she blasts the cold air until she’s thoroughly chilled. Her hand shakes as she adjusts the temperature again to something more moderate, and it takes nearly the entire ride up the highway for her body to settle.

Nat’s fine, apart from a few hard swallows and intent breaths, until she gets to the side streets leading up to the SHIELD building. Half of them are one-way, and with cars illegally parked at intervals where she’d like to be driving, rather more attention is required than she’s prepared to give at the moment.

Nat’s stomach groans as she manages to squeeze past a crooked PT Cruiser with one tire attached to the curb. She swallows quickly a few times, but her mouth waters, and she isn’t sure anything is actually going down.

The next turn puts her at the entrance to the parking garage. Nat’s grateful that her full-time status lets her whiz past the barrier without having to stop and take a ticket. She loops around the first level, then the second. She’s about to go up the third and park on four, which puts her closest to the correct set of offices and locker rooms, but she’s beginning to taste bile again, and she knows she won’t last.

There’s a cluster of parking spaces in front of Nat, the weird angled ones that are most likely to get backed into by other cars as they escape at the end of the day, but, hey. She needs a spot and she needs one now. Nat means to let the car coast forward into the space, but it stagnates, and she hits the accelerator lightly. She has to slam on the break to keep from plowing into the blockade, and the jolt sends pure agony through her head, which then feeds down her spine, and into her abdomen.

“Fuck,” Nat mutters, trying to open the door and escape without first taking off her seatbelt. She hangs out of the car door, gagging for a moment, then her nausea dispels long enough for her come to her senses, disengage the seatbelt, and completely exit the car.

Unsteady on her feet, Nat clings to the door and hangs her head. Her breaths come fast and light perspiration forms on her forehead. Her throat feels gunky and sore, and she’s unaware of what or how much she’s expelling until she hears the splatter agains the garage floor.

A car horn honks suddenly behind Nat, and she starts, whipping her head around. Headlights nearly blind her, but Nat can make out the silhouette of an open door and someone moving toward her.

“Nat?” A familiar voice calls, and she can see him pick up his pace, running now to close the gap between his car and hers.

Nat curses under her breath, then spits and shakes her head. There’s no real hiding the evidence, not at this point. Best she can do is come up with a convincing lie and hope her body can roll with it.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks, approaching her with arm outstretched. He goes to touch her shoulder, but changes his mind at the last moment and places his palm atop the roof of the sedan.

“Um. Yeah.” Nat clears her throat a little, which burns and brings on a secondary desire to turn her insides out, but she clenches every muscle esophagus to colon and manages to keep it down.

“Are you—?”

“Coffee.” Nat tries to find her voice. “Didn’t quite agree with me.”

“Uh…”. Steve shakes his head. “That’s not coffee.”

Nat turns her head a micrometer and sees him looking at the hideously yellow bile running downhill toward her tires.

“Why are you so interested in looking at my…” Nat accuses. “You know. And why’d you honk at me?”

“That was a mistake.” Steve looks mildly ashamed. “I just traded in for a newer model…” He trails off.

“No matter what year it is, you shouldn’t leave it idling like that,” Nat snaps. She gets a swipe in at her face while Steve’s looking backward at his inappropriate high beams.

“You seem like you’re in trouble,” Steve says abruptly, still turned away. “You’re really sick.”

The flickering fluorescents overhead can’t be doing anything good for her complexion. “Eh. Everybody gets hit sometimes.”

“You shouldn’t have had to come in.”

Nat’s laugh comes out more like a weak, hitching sigh. “Try telling that to Fury.”

“You downplay things. Hard. You know?” Steve’s free hand comes out of nowhere and the backs of his fingers rest lightly below Nat’s cheekbone.

“Get off, you creep—“

“Relax. I’m just checking your temperature.” Steve’s smile looks placating, but his eyes are wide and honest.

“Hm.” Nat sniffs and waits for him to be done.

Steve drops his hand back to his side and nods conclusively.

“What?”

“Just what I thought. You’re warm.” Steve doesn’t waste time. “C’mon, I’ll quit idling my engine and take you home.”

“Nah, I’ll probably ruin your new upholstery.” Nat gulps, disgusted by the possibility of new car smell filling her lungs and sinus cavities. “I don’t know. I’ll just…”. Nat looks into her vehicle, dreading the journey back to her apartment. She shifts her eyes back to Steve. “And I’ll have to beg out to Fury first, anyway.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Steve says. “On my word.”

“You’re not going to take pictures on your phone, are you?” Nat asks weakly. “You’re going to need proof to get past that guy…”

“If you can’t ride in a car, you need to be in medical.” Steve seems to realize he hasn’t broken it to her gently, so he backtracks and says, “With beds, you know?”

Nat wants to disagree. Even if she’s not fit for a mission, she can at least be independent. Take care of herself. But what’s she even thinking? She’s barfing in a damn parking garage, getting rescued by a coworker because she can’t even get up to the right floor.

“Fine,” Nat practically growls. “But no needles.” The nurse babysitting her doesn’t need to see the baby track marks dotting her inner elbow. She’ll keep those to herself, thank you very much. “No IVs. Bed. Bin. That’s all.”

“I’ll make sure that’s clearly communicated.” Steve nods , then jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Let me go park that thing, and I’ll walk you in.”

“Sure…”

Steve vanishes, and a moment later, the offensive headlights dim to something more manageable. His car moves forward and comes to a stop a few places down from hers.

Nat could vanish, too. Run into the building. Jump into her driver’s seat and speed off.

She doesn’t need the help. Or the charity. Or the friendship, really. She isn’t quite sure why, but she stays.

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tanyawritesstories · 3 years

Text

Liquid Hearts | The Mandalorian x Reader pt. 7 finale

It's the end! This is the last chapter in this series, I hope y'all have enjoyed the entire thing thus far. I hope you think this end is satisfying, sorry if this chapter is so much shorter than the other ones. I hope you enjoy! 🥰

Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: fluff, so many feelings, arguing, canon divergence, more fluff, hints at past abuse, Din is adorable when nervous

•••

Din’s jaw dropped under his helmet. The Supreme Chancellor’s daughter. How was that even possible? This entire time he’d been traveling with an extremely powerful and important person and he hadn’t even known it. “That makes sense,” he heard Cara say from behind him. Din walked over to Y/N. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She sighed. “It wasn’t important and I was trying to stay away, to be invisible,” she answered. “I left the Rebellion just before the war ended. I was tired of it. Tired of being held hostage, tired of being protected and treated like an object of power.”

“My husband was an X-Wing pilot, I married him right after my mother said it was ok if we left the rebel cause. I never turned my back on them, never betrayed them. But I hated being in the spotlight, having to give orders, having to kill, having to tell families that their loved ones had died in combat,” tears accumulated in her eyes again. “I could only live that life for so long.”

Din wasn’t mad at her, how could he be? He realized now that the past she didn’t want to tell him about had been riddled with hurt and abuse. He understood now.

“Fett should be here soon and I’ll be gone,” Fennec said. She walked to Din and Y/N. “I hope everything works out,” she said to Din. “Thank you, Fennec,” Y/N said, “for helping rescue me and my daughter.” Fennec nodded to her and left the bridge. “What now?” Koska asked. “We wait, until the New Republic arrives and we sort everything out,” Bo-Katan answered her.

~~~~

It was a tense hour and a half until the New Republic X-Wing transports showed up. Luke hopped back in his X-Wing and helped escort the light cruiser to the nearest habitable planet with a suitable secluded spot where they could land. The X-Wings landed first, their pilots exited the craft and waited.

Y/N came out of the light cruiser with Din, Cara, Koska, and Bo-Katan all behind her. Din had offered to carry Mandi for her while she did official business. Y/N greeted Carson and Trapper beside their X-Wings. “So how have you boys been?” “Getting old,” Carson replied. Y/N laughed, “it’s good to see you both again.” Carson put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about your husband,” he said. Y/N smiled sadly and nodded. “The Chancellor is on her way here, she should arrive in a few minutes,” he said.

“She’s coming in person?” Y/N questioned. “Of course she is, she hasn’t seen her daughter in four years,” Trapper put in. Within a few minutes a large New Republic transport landed. Several armed guards and security exited the craft first and stood at attention. Then Mon Mothma herself came out of the craft. She looked at her daughter and saw the turmoil in her eyes, walking towards Y/N with her arms open. Y/N ran into her mother’s arms, hugging her tight.

“I missed you, my dear,” she said. “I missed you too, mama,” Y/N replied. They pulled away and Mon Mothma pushed Y/N’s hair out of her face. “I’m so sorry about Aogen, I heard what happened,” Mothma said. “Are you doing alright?” Y/N nodded and smiled sadly, “I’m getting there.” Mothma cupped her daughter’s cheek. “Last I heard, you were only weeks away from your due date. I haven’t seen my grandchild yet.”

Y/N smiled and turned around, motioning for Din to bring Mandi over. He hesitantly approached with Mandi in his arms and Grogu in the shoulder bag. Y/N took the baby from him and placed her in her grandmother’s arms. “This is your granddaughter, Mandi,” Y/N said. The older woman smiled and cooed over the baby. “How old is she now?” “A little under three weeks,” Y/N answered. “She seems like a healthy, happy young one,” Mothma stated. “We have this Mandalorian to thank for that,” Y/N said motioning to Din. “He delivered her, and has been helping me take care of her ever since.”

Din flushed under his helmet, not used to the attention and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. “You have my deepest thanks, for protecting both of them,” Mothma told Din. He wasn’t sure how to respond. “Um, it was my pleasure,” he managed to say. She handed Mandi back to Y/N. “I hate to have to talk business but you said you captured Moff Gideon,” she said. “Not me,” Y/N said. She turned around and faced the others that came with her. “They did, plus a couple others that couldn’t stay for the festivities.”

Mon Mothma addressed the three women and Din. “You all have my utmost thanks and the thanks of the New Republic,” she looked back at Y/N. “Where do you have him?” Y/N smiled and jerked her head towards Cara. “New Republic Marshal Dune will lead you to him.” Cara smirked as Mothma told a few guards to go with Cara to get Gideon. “I will address the situation of Mandalore with the other two later, they have been on the radar for sometime, I will work something out with them,” Mothma ensured.

Luke approached and the Chancellor greeted him. “What was your issue with Luke this time?” Mothma asked her daughter. Y/N got a determined expression on her face. “He wants to take this child away from his father,” Y/N answered. She pointed to Grogu, who looked up at the strangers with curious eyes. “He must be trained or he will continuously be at risk,” Luke said. “Fine, but can Mando at least be allowed to visit your school and see his son, you can’t take him away forever!” Y/N protested.

Luke thought for a moment. “I suppose that could be an option,” he said. “Anytime he wants, they’re extremely attached to each other, and the kid only listens to Mando anyway,” Y/N added. “I can agree with these terms,” Luke said with a nod. “Does that sound good to you, Mando?” Y/N asked Din. He looked between the three expectant faces all waiting for an answer from him. “I just want the kid to be safe,” he said. “Very well, perhaps you would like to visit when the school is finally finished,” Luke offered. “Then you could see your little one in action.”

Din nodded slowly. “I’d like that.” Luke nodded respectfully to Din. “We have one more thing to discuss,” Mothma said. “This Mandalorian hasn’t exactly had pleasant run-ins with the New Republic recently.” Din sighed, there had to be a catch. Y/N stood tall. “I will take on any lawful repercussions that he may have warranted,” Y/N announced. Din looked between Y/N and her mother. “No,” he said, putting his arm around Y/N’s back. “I can’t let you do that for me. You already let yourself get captured and tortured by the Imps.” “I know, and you saved me, so we’re even,” Y/N said. “Now I’m doing this for you, so-”

“No, I can take responsibility for my own choices,” Din said, taking her hand. “That won’t be necessary,” Mothma interrupted. She called to someone behind her who walked over. “See that this Mandalorian’s criminal record gets wiped clean.” Y/N and Din exchanged glances. “You have done a great service to the New Republic today, it’s the least we can do for you,” the Chancellor said. Y/N got excited and wrapped Din into a tight hug. He chuckled and hugged her back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some other Mandalorians to talk to.”

~~~~

It took a couple weeks to sort everything out. The New Republic had promised to help Bo-Katan any way they could although it looked bleak. Y/N hid the Darksaber on the ship they were taking back to Trask to pick up a couple other Mandalorians. Din was given plenty of time to say goodbye to Grogu and even flew him to Luke’s Jedi school on Ach-To to drop him off. Y/N had come with and Luke took them both on a tour. They decided to stay the night and Din found Y/N away from everyone else, sitting on a rock and watching the sunset.

“Can I join you?” Y/N smiled. “Of course.” Din took a seat next to her and stared out at the water. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was initially,” she said. “It’s ok, I understand why you did,” Din replied. “I’m still sorry, that I was such a burden, that I dragged you into the whole New Republic mess, I know I-” “Hey,” Din put his hand on her knee. “You weren’t a burden, not at all. In fact….I enjoyed our time...together.” She smiled at him again, “As did I.” Y/N took his hand off her knee and held it in her hands. “Mando, I...I meant what you saw me say when I was taken,” She stuttered. “I know you may not feel the same way, but I have to get this out. I love you.”

She looked out at the setting sun. “I thought it was wrong at first, my husband hasn’t been gone that long but it….I’ve never felt this way before, and…” she trailed off. Din shucked off his gloves and couldn’t resist reaching over to cup her cheek and turn her head to look at him. “Y/N I….I love you too.” He sighed shakily, might as well let it all out. “I’ve tried to deny it, tell myself it wasn’t real, but I’ve never felt anything like I do when I’m around you. You’re so good with both the kids and you’re such a strong person…”

Y/N smiled and leaned over to him, pressing a kiss to the cheek of his helmet. “I know that’s as close as I’ll ever get to you, but that’s ok. I love you regardless and I always will, you’ve done more for me in a matter of weeks than anyone has in my whole life. Thank you for that.” Din's heart rate sped up as he thought of an idea. “That’s not exactly true,” he said. “Family members can see my face, I..I let Grogu see me just before I let him go with Luke. And Mandi saw me without it by accident.”

Y/N laughed, a heavenly sound that Din thought could drive away any bad weather. “What do you mean on accident?” Din sighed. “The first night on that frozen planet, while you were sleeping she woke up so I took her up into the cockpit with me and got her back to sleep, I was eating and bumped my helmet and woke her up. I picked her up to calm her down and she opened her eyes,” he explained. Y/N giggled again. “No wonder she thought you were her father, you were the first male face she saw.”

Din chuckled and took a deep breath, standing up and pulling Y/N with him. “I...I want to show you…” She shook her head. “If you don’t feel comfortable then don’t, I’m not pushing you to-” “I want to,” Din said. He slowly placed both hands on his helmet and lifted it off his head. Awe was written all over her face as she looked at him. “Stars, you...you’re beautiful…” she breathed. Din blushed and looked at the ground. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and made him look at her. “Would you look at that, I’ve fallen in love with the most stunning being in the whole galaxy.”

“You, you’re stunning too,” he said, still blushing. “Yes, most beautiful..” It was Y/N’s turn to blush now. “You’re too sweet, Mando,” she said. “Din,” he corrected. “My name is Din.” She smiled. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any better,” she mused. “What happens now?” He sighed, setting his helmet on the ground and taking both her hands in his. “I know we haven’t known each other for long but I’ve been all over the galaxy, met all kinds of people and I’ve never known anyone who makes me feel the way you do. I don’t want to pass it up and never have the chance again..”

“Neither do I,” she agreed. “What do you say? Together from here on out?” He nodded. “Yes, I’m not losing you again.” Y/N smiled up at him as happy tears welled in her eyes. “Can I kiss you, Din?” A smile came to his face, “yes.” Y/N leaned up and her lips met with his in a passionate kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled her closer by her waist. They stayed connected for as long as they could go without air before reluctantly breaking apart. Their foreheads rested against each other, basking in their newfound love. Din quietly asked her a question.

“Marry me?”

Four years later…

Mandi bounded off the Razor Crest, her bare feet touching down on Ach-To’s lush grasses. She ran up the hill and searched through the groups of children in Jedi training, looking for her older brother. She spotted him with a group of other children, practicing their levitation. “Grogu!” She called out. She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her over to her brother, greeting him with a hug which he returned. “Mandi!” He gurgled happily. The little girl was now taller than Grogu despite the fact that he had been growing.

“Mandi!” She looked over her shoulder to see her father walking with her mother. “Don’t disturb them while they're training, you can wait,” he called. Luke came out of a nearby hut, smiling at his visitors. “It’s quite alright, Mandi. They can have a break,” Luke assured her. Mandi took Grogu’s hand and the children wandered off together. Luke strode over to Din and Y/N. “I see a lot has happened since I last saw you both,” he remarked. “Only ever good things,” Y/N said, rocking the newborn in her arms. He looked more like Din than Mandi did. Luke placed a gloved hand on the baby’s head.

“It’s been a bit of a wild ride,” Din said with a smile, “she went into labor early again.” Luke watched as their child slowly woke up and looked around. “What’s his name?” Din and Y/N exchanged glances. “Mar’eyce,” Din answered. “It’s Mando’a for discovery, and finding a state of heaven,” Y/N added. “He’s a result of the heaven we found with each other.” Luke smiled and looked back down at the little one. “A perfect name.” He let the baby clamp onto his finger and Luke’s brow furrowed for just a moment, something Din noticed. “What is it?”

Luke chuckled. “You two are going to have your hands full,” he said. “This little one is Force sensitive as well.” Y/N’s jaw dropped and she laughed. Din was shocked. “How do you know?” “I can feel it, most likely Mandi and Grogu can as well. Mar’eyce is strong with the Force,” Luke informed. “Stars, you’re potent,” Y/N joked, slapping Din’s chest plate. “Hey, hey,” he admonished lightly. “We’re in public.” Luke smiled at them. “I’d best find where Mandi and Grogu ran off too, he will be eager to help teach her how to levitate things.”

Luke left Din and Y/N and the woman laughed. “What’s so funny, my love?” Din asked. “We are outnumbered by Force sensitive children, this’ll be fun.” Din put his arm around her and held her close to him, smoothing his hand over his biological son’s little head.

“Yes, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #grogu #frozen series #star wars fanfiction #series finale

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puckyess · 4 years

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4 Times His Teammates Said “I Love You” + 1 Time He Did | Ryder Donovan

S/o to @penaltbox for being my favorite brainstorm partner and encouraging the hell out of me. Inspo: @that-fandom-stuck-in-your-head

I found the one TikTok that was deleted, so now all TikToks are linked!!

** FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED **

Words: 7.5k

Shay Donovan

You weren’t allowed to have favorites on the team outside of Ryder, but if you did it would be Shay hands down. The relationship you had with him was like that of a brother. He watched out for you and you for him. You’d play the part of his best wingwoman and he supported your relationship with his brother. You’d fight like siblings too. He knew exactly which buttons to press and you knew how to get under his skin. You knew each other well and this is what made you two Ryder’s worst nightmare. You constantly ganged up on him with his brother. You were able to get Ryder to do/fall for just about anything and that made you Shay’s favorite secret weapon.

The boys had some free time this weekend and wanted to make the 5 hour drive to Duluth to spend it on their boat since it would probably be one of the last times they would get to do so with the season ramping up. Ryder’s annoyance for you and Shay began promptly at 6 a.m. He was not a morning person and you definitely weren’t either, but Shay insisted you both get up early so that you get to the boat at a decent time in the day. He did not however, set his alarm for 6 a.m., rather 6 p.m. and was awoken by his brother’s shouts to get out of bed. You, on the other hand, were just running late because you thought you could get ready in a shorter amount of time than was realistic. By the time you and Shay make it down to Ryder, who already has the car packed and ready to go, he’s huffy. “You guys know I hate when you tell me a specific time and then you show up late”. “Well this should be a fun trip, right Rizzer?”, Shay speaks up with fake enthusiasm. You shoot Shay a look from the front seat as a signal to shut the hell up, to which Ryder appreciates.

The first hour is pretty smooth, not a whole lot of talking going on in the car. Everyone just appreciating the sunrise, or at least that’s what you thought until you glanced in the backseat and saw Shay sound asleep. At your “awh” Ryder moved his eyes from the road to the rear view mirror. “So that’s why it’s been so peaceful”. Even though you laughed you gave Ryder’s hand that was on your thigh a light squeeze. “Don’t be so grumpy Rydes. This is going to be a fun weekend, I just know it”. He can hear the smile in your voice without even looking over and he knows you’re right, flashing you his signature bright smile of his own.

As if he knew he was being talked about, Shay begins to stir. The quietness is disturbed immediately upon his awakening. He takes over the AUX and the road tripping can finally begin. Him and Ryder argue over music, whether to play alternative or country and which has more of a summer vibe, until finally a summer playlist, containing both is chosen. You pick up your phone, scrolling through some Tiktoks when you find one you just have to send to Shay. You watch as he gets the notification and opens it immediately. The music is broken up, replaced with the voice of a guy saying, “Send this to someone you don't like. You look like a rat, and you are so fat. I would be so sad, if i looked like that”. You’re dying laughing in the front seat at the offended look on Shay’s face and the death glare he’s receiving from Ryder. “I hate you” is all Ryder spits out, as this is a regular occurrence in any car ride. You love how you can get Shay in trouble without even really trying and how Ryder only yells at his brother when you’re the one who sent it to him.

The rest of the ride is spent on the highway and though you love the singing of the boys in the car with you, you’re getting pretty bored just watching the trees pass by so you say, “Let’s play a game!”. They both look at you like you’re 12.

“What? It’ll be fun I promise”. They shoot you skeptical looks, but ask what the game is anyway.

“It’s like license plate bingo kind of. You see the type of car first, you call it out and then you get to punch whoever you want”, you say with a shrug.

“Ooo, I like this game”, Shay says rubbing his palms together as he studies the list of “rules” you sent him: Slug bug, no punchbacks. PT Cruiser, get a bruiser. Tacoma, put you in a coma. Kia, wouldn’t wanna be ya, could be substituted with kia kick. Big truck, no luck. Subaru slap. Jeep jab. Honda hit. Train, feel the pain. You read them out loud to Ryder so that he can play too while he drives. Ryder shakes his head as you continue down the list, clearly not as impressed as Shay was.

“Where do you come up with this stuff, Y/N?”, but he agrees to participate nonetheless.

The rest of the ride is now much more exciting, everyone on high alert for a vehicle that would allow them to inflict pain on a passenger. You and Shay are admittedly better and much more active in the game since Ryder has to also pay attention to the road. As a result, he also ends up taking most of the hits, both from you and his brother. Everytime you would excitedly jab him, he’d give you puppy dog eyes. He was easy pickings, as he was right next to you, but the sad eyes did make you choose Shay as your target a little more often.

After Shay slugs Ryder in the arm for about the fifth “Kia, wouldn't wanna be ya”, his personal favorite, Ryder expresses his annoyance for the game. “This is abuse. I can’t even play right since I’m driving. The only person I can hit is Y/N, and unlike some people”, he says, shooting you a look, “I don’t enjoy hitting my significant other”.

You just roll your eyes at him, but Shay is quick to jump in, unhappy that Ryder is squashing his fun. “Awh can widdle brudder not take a few punches? You’re going soft, Ryder” Shay says with his fake baby voice.

You know it grates on Ryder’s nerves like no other so you call the game quits before they engage in an argument in the small space. Luckily, you were just pulling into the drive leading to where the Donovan’s call home. Getting out of the car Shay throws an arm around you, “I liked our game, Y/N. Very fun. We should play it more often”.

You all enter the house long enough to drop off the bags and pack some snacks for the boat. Shay leans over to you. “Want to see something funny?”, he asks with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. You raise your eyebrow at him in response. “I’m going to get Ryder in trouble with only four words”, he promises. You use your hand to gesture him on to whatever it is he has planned.

“OW, Ryder! Ryder, stoppp!” He suddenly yells. Ryder, who was digging through the fridge, turns around, giving Shay a confused look as if to say “Wtf”.

“Ryder, seriously! Stop!”, he continues yelling.

“Knock it off!”, their mom calls down from upstairs. Ryder’s clued into what’s happening now, giving his brother a little shoulder check as he passes him to drop the strawberries on the island, just in time for his mom to come around the corner.

“Ryder stop!”, Shay yells at his brother one last time for good measure.

“Seriously, Ryder? You two are home for not even two minutes and you’re already trying to test my patience? And with a guest in the house. Did I teach you boys nothing?”, she reprimands her sons and you have to hide your smile as Shay’s plan plays out accordingly.

She’s bringing you in for a hug then and eventually her two sons the same. She catches up with the boys for a few minutes, but knows they’re impatient to get to the boat so she doesn’t chat for long.

Once she leaves the room you turn to Shay, “I have to say, I’m impressed. I didn’t think it would be that easy.” Shay has a very pleased smirk on his lips.

“I used to do it when we were kids, all the time. Good to know it still works now too, isn’t that right, Rydes?” he says nudging his brother.

Ryder looks back and forth between you and his brother, shaking his head. “You were in on this? You two are the worst. I’m about to drive back to Wisconsin and leave you both here”, he says with a huff.

Unfortunately for Ryder, your antics with Shay weren’t finished yet. While he was driving the boat, Shay had found a Tiktok that he wanted to make, but he needed your help to do it. You were lounging at the front of the boat when Shay brought it to you, explaining his plan.

“Okay, so I’m going to sit over there and just act like I’m on my phone, but I’m actually going to be filming. You’re going to put your fingers like this”, he says showing you his thumb and pointer finger touching like in the ok sign, “and then tell him to do that on his chin, but put it on your cheek. “I want to see how many times it’s going to take him to get it right. My bet is 5. You in?”.

You felt bad goading your boyfriend like that, but you knew he was the perfect victim for it. You loved Ryder, but he was a little slow to catch onto things sometimes. The punchline of jokes? Not his thing, he’d get it a few seconds after everyone else and even then, sometimes you weren’t really sure if he even got it then. It was a wonder how he played such a fast paced game and came up with chirps on the fly. Mulling it over once more, you finally nodded your head. “Yeah, I’m in, but $10 says it’s going to take him 8”, you say with a wink.

Shaking on it, he says, “I like the way you think. You have a deal”.

Getting up you go over to your boyfriend, trying not to feel guilty. “Babe, I have a test for you”, you say as innocently as possible.

“And what is that?”, he asks, giving you his full attention.

“Put this,” Showing him the same sign Shay showed you, “on your chin”, demonstrating for him, placing the ok sign on your cheek.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Is this a tiktok or something?” he asked, looking around for your phone. Your eyes widened with fake offence as you pointed to your phone over on your towel. “Babe, do you see me filming? My phone is way over there. It’s fine. Just put this on your chin”, you said, once again demonstrating for him.

He looked around, still suspicious. “You’re not going to hit me right? This isn’t another one of your ‘beat up on Ryder games’?” You shook your head, promising him you wouldn’t even touch him. Satisfied with that, he gave in to your request, like he always did and copied your actions. Meanwhile, Shay was trying his hardest to remain camouflage but his brother’s predictable actions were making it very difficult to not start laughing behind his phone.

You repeated your phrase again, “Put this on your chin” and he again mirrored your movements, putting his ok sign on his cheek and looking at you expectantly. You tried again, enunciating the “this” as you watched him. He again put his fingers on his face.

You tried not to laugh, repeating the phrase, trying to clue him in as you said the words slowly this time. “Put this on your chin.” He studied you real hard this time, but copied your placement exactly with his ok sign on his cheek.

You tried again, “Put this,” showing him your ok sign in front of his face and speaking slowly, “on your chin”. This time the poor boy grabbed your wrist, bringing your ok sign to HIS cheek and waiting for your approval. This time you had to let out a little chuckle and as you glanced over at Shay he was ready to bust a gut trying to hold back his laugh. You tried to compose yourself, as you tried to get your boyfriend to do the simple task.

“Put this on your chin” you practically yelled at him. Even though he was frustrated with what you were saying, he had a big smile on his face because you did. “I’m not fucking stupid” he said through laughs and grabbed your hand with two hands this time and put it on his cheek.

You were really laughing now, pulling your hand away and trying one last time. “Ryder. Put this. On your chin”, you said hoping this time would stick. But nope. The boy really put that okay sign on his damn cheek and really had the audacity to look at you to say he did it right.

You took a deep breath, trying to catch your breath from laughing so hard. “On your chin”, and he just looked at you, processing what you just said and then finally his hand shot to his chin and he started laughing again. “Oh shit”. You started cheering for him and Shay practically exploded from his spot as he fell to the floor laughing.

“Oh my god. That was too good. I’m so posting this”, he said between laughs.

“I believe you owe me 10 bucks, Shay. Pay up”, you responded with your hand out.

Ryder once again was stuck looking between you and Shay. “You set me up!” he accurately accused. “And you BET on it? You bet against me?” he said, turning to you. Seeing the hurt look on his face you felt bad.

“Rydes I didn’t bet against you per say, I just guessed how many times it might take you to catch on to what I was saying. I love you though”, you say as you run your fingers up and down his arms at an attempt to get him to forget your tricks. He’s not pleased with your answer though.

Now you’re pouting and sticking your lip out at him, throwing Shay under the bus. “It was Shay’s idea!”.

“Dude!” Shay exclaims.

You roll your eyes at him, “Oh like he didn’t already know”.

The slight frown on Ryder's face had turned into a small smile as he spoke to Shay. “I can’t believe you turned my own girlfriend on me. You guys are being extra annoying today”.

“It’s all for the tiktok, bahd” Shay answers with a shrug, unbothered by his brother’s annoyance.

You, however, spent the rest of the afternoon trying to suck up to Ryder.

“I hate you,” you said as you passed Shay to get to the cooler to fetch Ryder a drink for the fifth time as part of your penance. Shay just grins up at you, shooting you a wink. “I love you too, my little partner in crime”.

---

The following weekend you’re out with the guys, walking down State Street and a car passes your group. Shay glances at you and then Ryder and an ear splitting grin takes over his features. Lightning fast he hits Ryder, yelling “Lamborghini, hit you in your weenie!”.

You stop in your tracks as your boyfriend doubles over in pain and you double over in hysterics. The guys, as well as the few passerbyers who had heard Shay’s outburst look on in confusion.

As you finally catch your breath you move to help your still struggling boyfriend. You crouch down so you can see his face as you ask if he’s okay, but his grimace tells all. There’s nothing you can really do for him but let him breathe it out so you stand back up, high-5ing Shay. “That was pretty good,” you say shaking your head at the memory of what just happened and your road trip from last weekend.

“How long did it take ya to come up with that one?”.

He proudly announces that he’s been thinking of new ones to add to the list all week.

“Whoever introduced you two was a real idiot and is 100% regretting that decision” Ryder says from his still bent over position. You only offer your hand to help him stand straight in response.

Shay’s animatedly trying to explain the game to the boys, who all seem very excited to play. They spend the rest of the walk to KK punching each other and calling out the phrases as they search the cars lining the sides of the road. You walk a few steps behind them with Ryder leaning on you for a little support and maybe some protection.

“You’ve really created a monster now” he sighs, watching the boys.

All of a sudden he strikes your arm. “PT Cruiser, get a bruiser!”, he hollers and takes off down the street, suddenly fine. He looks back at you with a big grin.

You shake your head, “Smooth, Ryder Donovan, smooth” and you chase after him.

Mike Vorlicky

Being in a group chat with a bunch of hockey players meant that you were no stranger to your phone blowing up with nonsense, but you knew the boys were at practice, as Ryder had left for it 15 minutes ago, so when you heard more pings from your MacBook- 4 in a row to be exact - all from Mike, you knew something was up. Quickly checking your phone, your brows knit as you read the succession of messages, confirming your suspicion that something was definitely up.

“Y/N! SOS.”

“I know you have your phone, I NEED YOU”

“Come on my ass is about to be shipped back to Edina”

“Y/N! I hate to do this, but Ryder got hurt on the way to practice. I mean like really hurt”.

The messages didn’t make sense, but the last one had you calling Mike immediately.

“Oh, thank God-'' he answered, but you cut him off, wanting to know about the status of your boyfriend.

“What happened? How is Ryder? Where are you?”. The pause on the other end of the line had your heart beating in your ears, filled with anxiety and worry for your boyfriend, at least for a moment.

When you heard “Dude she’s gonna kill you” from Cole in the background, a different emotion filled you.

“Mike Vorlicky, what the HELL is going on?”

Despite the anger and annoyance in your voice, Mike still let out a smug chuckle. “I knew that last one would get you to answer your damn phone. But listen-“

“So he’s fine? Nothing happened?”, you asked just to be sure.

When Mike lets out a nervous chuckle you release the breath that you had been holding. “I should hang up on your ass right now, Vorlicky. You can’t just-“

“No seriously, Y/N this is important. You can yell at me later, but will you pleaseeee, pretty please with a cherry on top please bring me my practice jersey? I was serious about coach shipping me out. This is like the third time. He’s gonna bench me next game and my parents are coming to this one...”.

Even though you were extremely pissed off at him for even speaking into existence your boyfriend getting hurt, you also couldn’t deny him or any of the boys when they needed your help and he knew that. After letting out a groan you asked him where the jersey was and made your way over to his dorm. Getting into his building was scarily easy and the jersey was surprisingly right where he said it would be, laid out on his bed. It’s a wonder how he forgot it.

Minutes later you were pulling up to the practice facility and walking through the glass doors that led to the rink. You were met with cool air and smiling faces. As the boys noticed you began to head your way, but not before Mike rushed over. He was coming so fast he barely had time to stop before he hit the boards and wrapped you in a hug, “I love you so much right now I could kiss you” he said, taking the jersey from your hands.

“Don’t even think about it, Vorlicky” Ryder called to him as he made his way through the boys to give you a quick kiss before the whistle blew signifying practice starting, just in time for Mike to slip the jersey over his gear.

Owen Lindmark

Cooking had never been your thing, still having never really gained that skill even after living on your own. But as much as it was not your best quality, it was even less so for the boys that were about to come crashing through your door any minute. Dating Ryder was amazing and equally as amazing were the 20 other boys who’ve you’ve come to call close friends that came along with him.

You had just gotten an air fryer and were excited to test it out. You’d been promising the boys you’d cook for them for weeks and figured what better time to do so than now. They had a big rematch coming up that weekend against PSU anyway so you had told Ryder to invite some of his teammates over for a mini team dinner.

You were pretty impressed with yourself you had to admit. Not only had you planned a full meal and dessert, you had timed it perfectly so that everything was just about finished as you heard the door unlock.

“Honey, I’m hooommee”, Shay called out as he dropped his bag in the pathway of the others behind him.

You shook your head as you stirred the marinara sauce one last time, knowing that the pet name bugged Ryder even though it was a movie line and he was so obviously joking.

“Dude it smells amazing in here”

“What’re we having?”

“I’m starving”, and curses could all be heard as the crew continued to pour into the apartment, the noise and chaos level instantly rising.

You cleared your throat and very dramatically tapped your spoon on your wine glass to gather the boys’ attention.

”First of all, everyone is to wash their hands before eating, please and thank you. Salad is already on the table. You guys can grab yourselves a plate, the pasta is over by the sink, the sauce is right next to it and then the chicken’s already been cooked in the air fryer so it follows your guys’ diets (kind of) and parmesan melted on it so you can just put that on top of the pasta. I have bread in the oven that I’ll bring out when it’s done. Oh and dessert for when everyone’s ready”. You barely finished your spiel before the boys were shoving each other to get in line.

Shay of course had battled his way to the front of the line, claiming seniority, Mike unsurprisingly behind him, followed by Lex, Owen, Cole and Dylan. For being as large as Dylan was, he had been easily bullied to the end of the line. Ryder stuck around, wrapping you in a hug and placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“You’re amazing for doing this. The boys haven’t shut up about it all week. You really went all out didn’t you, babe?” He asked with a proud smile on his face. His little acknowledgment coupled with how proud he looked made you blush. You knew he wasn’t lying about the boys obsessing over this meal either, as you had been receiving daily texts from each of them about it.

“Don’t get too excited, you haven’t even tasted anything yet. What if it’s the worst Chicken parm, you’ve ever tasted in your life?” You asked pouring on the dramatics. It was your first time using the air fryer after all, you had no idea how it would turn out and you were a bit nervous, but had warned the boys ahead of time that they may be ordering pizza instead.

Your disclaimer was countered by moans coming from the living room, a chorus of them actually. You and Ryder share a look before busting out laughing. “I guess there’s your answer for ya.” He replies, followed by a “No one better be having sex out there”.

You shoo him along so that he can eat with his friends and you can grab the bread out of the oven. After slicing it and putting it on a plate you deliver it to the vultures in your living room and prop yourself on the armrest of Ryder’s chair, rubbing his back as he eats.

The boys don’t stop gushing about your cooking as they continue to shovel food in their mouths. “This is seriously- the best meal- no, scratch that- food- I’ve had in months”, Cole says between bites.

“Hey, I just made you that really good burger and Mac cheese thing last week and you gave it 5 stars!” Dylan protests.

You and Owen lock eyes and instantly start laughing. “Dyl, did it come in a red box with a glove on the front?” You ask, still giggling. His eyes light up, happy that you recognize it and he nods.

“Dude, that’s Hamburger Helper!” Owen howls.

“And an insult to Y/N’s cooking”, Alex chimes in.

”Even this salad is more gourmet than Hamburger Helper, sorry bro”, Cole adds.

At this point everyone’s laughing at Dylan’s expense, yourself included. He’s immediately apologetic, hoping he didn’t truly insult your cooking, which just eggs the boys on assuring him that he did in fact insult you.

“Yeah, that’s like comparing Wayne Gretzky and Shay in hockey, but for cooking”, Mike chirps, feeling the need to get involved.

”Nice one Mikey. Dylan fucks up, but let’s roast Shay”, Shay retorts.

You grin, loving being a part of the relaxed banter that’s going on but wave them off. Dylan attempts to grumble out his weak defense, claiming that he’s from Canada and didn’t know about Hamburger Helper, just making you giggle harder.

“Okay, okay okay,” you say in an attempt to calm yourself and the room down. You were wiping tears from your eyes. “I’m going to go get the dessert so you clowns can get out of my apartment”.

Once in the kitchen you opened the cabinet by the fridge and felt around for the plate of brownies you knew you’d hidden up there so that the boys, specifically your boyfriend, wouldn’t pick at them before dinner. You felt a pair of hands on your hips. You had expected it to be your boyfriend, but with his body slightly pressed against yours you knew it wasn’t him.

“Need some help?”, the voice confirmed your thoughts. It was Owen.

“Please”, you said, accepting his offer.

He grinned once he pulled the plate down and saw the perfectly proportioned brownies. You had used one of those baking pans that had individual brownie shapes so that every piece had four edges, the best part and Ryder’s favorite.

“I love these, my mom makes ‘em like that. Smart to keep these hidden from Ryder”, he says with a wink. Though his tone is light toward the end with the little chirp at Ryder, you don’t miss the hint of sadness that laced his voice in the beginning. And he doesn’t miss the look of concern on your face either.

He puts the plate down and leans against the counter. “I love you for doing this tonight. I really can’t thank you enough. I needed this, the laughs, the home cooked meal”, he confesses, running a hand through his hair.

“Missing home a little extra?” You ask, knowing exactly how he feels.

”You could say that. I know the guys and I don’t say it enough, but we love you and appreciate how much you take care of us and keep us sane. What you do for Ryder is obvious, but stuff like this that you do extra for us, making a really good dinner and dessert, always letting us hang out here, and come to you with our problems. It means a lot”.

Not really having words for all that he’d just told you, but wanting to show him you really did care for him too, you wrapped your arms around him and gave him a good squeeze.

“Awh, O. I don’t know what to say. You and the boys are like family to me. You always have a second home here.” The sentimental moment is broken up by Mike shouting about dessert and someone telling him to shut up and stop being rude.

“I guess we better get this dessert to the boys so they can get out of your hair”, he says grinning.

Before letting him go you pull back and say, “Tell your mom I said hi when you call her later”. He picks the plate of brownies back up and you make your way toward the rowdy group occupying your living room.

“You know me too well. But I surely will let her know. I’m sure she’ll appreciate you keeping me alive”, he says with a chuckle.

Dylan Holloway

Everyone was huddled close together in the dimly lit booth as it came down to just Roman and Dylan, each with two fingers on the full pitcher in the middle of the table. The two boys were half out of their seats staring each other down. Roman had a smug smirk on his face as he watched Dylan sweat it out across from him, his mind clearly going a mile a minute.

The guys had just swept PSU and were definitely feeling themselves tonight. They decided to opt for the usual celebratory tradition of KK and Fingers, a game that Dylan was historically terrible at.

It was Dylan’s turn and he was still shaking his head, both at himself for overthinking a simple drinking game and at Roman who was continuously chirping him, which was not helping him decide. He only hoped the winning luck of the night would continue as he began counting down, “Three, two, one - two!”, Roman yanked one finger off the pitcher as Dylan left his two on, for a total of three fingers.

The team erupted as Dylan threw his hands in the air, “Fuck! I always lose this stupid, fucking game”.

“Drink up, bud!”, Roman chided him, pushing the pitcher closer to him on the table.

Dylan just groaned and stared at the full pitcher of unknown alcohol with a grimace.

“Come on, Dyl, you know the rules. Or at least you should, you’ve lost enough times by now”, Shay chirped from behind him. You felt bad for the guy because Shay wasn’t wrong. Of the handful of times you had watched and played the game, Dylan had lost all but maybe twice.

“You’re right Shay, maybe we should spice it up this time, eh? What do we think boys?” Mike suggests with a devilish smile and a rub of his palms. You don’t miss the look that he shares with Roman and your eyes narrow in on the boy who suddenly has a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Dylan, I dare you to go ask that girl for her number”, he challenges, nodding toward a blonde who had been looking over at the group.

Following his gaze you notice who exactly it is that he pointed out and you choke on your drink. You want to stop Dylan before he makes a fool out of himself, but he easily gulps down the pitcher and quickly makes his way over to the girl waiting for him. You can’t get your words out as you’re sputtering and coughing from your drink.

When you finally catch your breath you give Roman a shove and hiss “Fuck you Ro. What’re you doing? Aren’t you talking to that girl?”. He doesn’t answer, just shrugs as he watches on with a smirk plastered on his face, as if he knows exactly what is going to happen. Ryder nudges you in confusion at your little interaction with his teammate. Moving closer to him you filled him in on the unknown drama that was going on. “I played wingwoman for Roman a couple weeks ago so that he could pick up this same girl. Of course with my 90% success rate, he got her and I guess kept her. He’s been texting me about her all week”.

Suddenly understanding, he said “You have to go save D. The guys will never let him live this down” and you knew he was right. A freshman hitting on an older guy’s girl? Even if it was on a dare and even if her and Roman were just talking, it would still be embarrassing on Dylan’s part and chirp content for the team for the weeks to come.

So with a flip of your hair and a pat to Roman’s head you strode over to where Dylan was flirting with the blonde. He was really pulling out all the stops trying to earn this girl’s number, you had to give him that. You would even say that it actually appeared to be going well, but judging by the look that was on Roman’s face, you knew it wouldn’t end well.

“Excuse me, mind if I borrow him real quick? No? Ok great, thanks! I’ll give him back in just a second!”. You gripped his wrist with both hands and all but yanked him off the barstool until he was stumbling toward you, very confused. Once you were a few feet away, you steadied him with your hands. He was clearly annoyed with you.

“What the hell, Y/N? what’re you doing? I need to get back there. Things were actually going well”.

“And you will, D just listen to me for a second. I’m trying to help you here”.

“Help me? What’re you talking about?”.

“Dylan, Roman’s been talking to that girl for weeks now. He’s just trying to set you up because he knows she won’t actually give you her number because she’s with him so you end up coming back to the table empty handed and the guys can chirp you for weeks about trying to get with Roman’s girl”.

Realization washed over his face as he took in the situation. He glanced over at Roman’s now displeased but confused face and back at the girl who was seemingly waiting for him to return to the empty seat next to her.

“Whatever you have to do to get that number Dylan Holloway, do it. You can’t come back to that table empty handed, got it?”. He nodded furiously. “Good boy. Now go charm her pants off!” And with that you sent him on his way and returned to the group, all of whom were looking at you with quizzical faces.

You just shrugged it off saying, “He just wanted me to check if he smelled like beer. I guess she hates that stuff, only drinks Claws.” With that, Roman shoots you a look, knowing that was a load of shit and a jab at him. Her hatred of beer and love for white claws had been one of the many “fun facts” he had shared with you over the week. His attention turns as the guys erupt once again in cheers as the girl plants a kiss on Dylan’s cheek and sends him back to your table. He smiles victoriously as he stops in front of Roman. “I hope you don’t mind sharing your girl, she seems pretty into me”, he says and drops the napkin with her phone number on it on the table in front of Roman. The “ooos” and hollers from the boys are golden, but pale in comparison to the look on Roman’s face. Ryder fist bumps him and Dylan leans in to give your hand a squeeze, “I love you so much for that. The look on his face? Totally worth it. Really saved my ass. I owe you”.

Ryder wasn’t one to overuse the phrase “I love you”. He held great value in those three words and reserved them for times when it was just the two of you or for when the moment deemed necessary. Today was one of those moments.

He had gotten home from practice early to find you out on his balcony wrapped in a blanket and your computer on your lap. He hadn’t thought much of it as he shed his bag and went to wash his hands and make a snack, but the door was cracked and he could hear a familiar laugh that wasn’t yours. He stopped what he was doing and listened for it again. As if right on cue, his baby sister’s laugh found his ears. He debated with himself whether or not he should make his presence known. Curiosity eventually winning out, he decided to wait it out and see what his two favorite girls were talking about. He’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t ready to burst at seeing you voluntarily FaceTiming his baby sister.

His snack forgotten, he sat himself on the couch out of view and just listened and watched. He watched the way your hair fluttered with the breeze, how you focused your attention on the girl on the screen, and nodded your head in agreement with whatever she was saying. He watched the way you interacted with his sister and couldn’t deny the feeling that was consuming him.

Even more so he watched the way Clara’s face lit up as you spoke to her, a look he’d seen before, one she reserved for her big sister. It was one of idolization, respect, and love. He watched her smile and her head tip back as she laughed with you like you were her best friend. Mostly he watched as the two of you had become part of each other’s lives in a way he hadn’t even known.

He listened to the beautiful sound of your laugh mix with hers and to the way both of your voices were so animated with each other. He listened as you spoke naturally with her, your kindness genuine instead of just treating her as some little kid. He knew she hated that but had unfortunately had her share of heartbreak by girls who only used her to get to him. He hated that he had caused her any kind of pain, but loved that you had somehow found a way to right his mistakes. He knew right then and there that he’d never take you away from her and she wouldn’t let him.

His thoughts were broken up by you reentering the apartment.

“Having a stalker moment there, Rydes?”, you ask him with eyebrows raised.

Deflecting the question, he clears his throats and instead asks what you guys were talking about. “Didn’t you hear the whole conversation already?”, you tease him. He just rolls his eyes, so you divulge as you pull stuff out to make dinner.

“We were just checking in. She was making sure you were still alive, taking your vitamins, treating me right, our usual. She had some drama stuff, but V is busy getting stuff ready for the baby so she didn’t want to bother her. Oh, and we’re planning your sister’s baby shower! Well, Clara’s in charge but she wanted my opinion on some details”.

The feeling he had before as he watched you two only intensified as he discovered what you had actually been talking about.

“What do you mean your usual?”

You’d stopped adding ingredients to the pot as you looked up at him, realizing you had just let Ryder in on something you hadn’t planned on. “Um. You know how you FaceTime Clara every week? Well uh, I do too...that’s ok right? That’s not like weird?”

He processed the information you had just told him. You actually took the time out of your busy life to get in touch with his sister every single week and were asking him if that was ok? He hadn’t even imagined you doing that, but you continued to amaze him. The smile he gave you was so warm and full of love. “Of course that’s okay. I love that you do that and I’m sure she does too. I saw the way she looks at you, you know. The same way she looks at V.” Your heart swells at his comment and you almost start crying on the spot.

“So she’s coming to you with drama huh? Anything I should know about?”. You laugh and default to “girl code” aka Ryder doesn’t get any deets. Despite his best efforts, including puppy dog eyes, he doesn’t get anything out of you.

“You’re MY girlfriend, you can’t let my sisters convert you to their side already” he whines.

You laugh and respond with “Well would you rather I convert to your brother’s side? I’m sure Shay could pitch a good argument.” He looks offended that you’d even say such a thing and grumbles out a “no”.

After he’s decided he’s done pouting he comes around the counter and wraps his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his face into your hair. “You told Clara I treat you well, right?” He questions, still thinking about your conversation with her. You’re surprised to detect nervousness in his question and that he’d even ask that. Turning in his arms you answer him, wanting him to see the conviction in your face when you say “Of course, Ryder. You don’t ever need to doubt that, baby”. He looks relieved and surprises you again with a confession.

“Good. I want Clara to see how she should be treated. What good love looks like, a healthy relationship, ya know?”.

Tears start form in your eyes and it takes you a second to find your voice. Eventually you do and you gently pull his face down to yours, running your thumb over his cheek. You melt over the way he leans into your touch. Even though your voice is barely above a whisper, it’s strong as you tell him, “You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been. You show me what love is everyday and inspire me to be better for you and for me. You are such a role model to her Ryder. When she looks at us, I promise you all she will see is genuine, pure love.”

His heart is beating so hard as he absorbs your words. He takes your wrist and pulls your hand to his lips. He kisses your palm then cups your face in his hands, bringing your foreheads together. His own eyes are glassy and throat thick as he tries to put what he’s feeling into words that will convey the same amount of strength and emotion. “Every time I think ‘she can't get any better’ you surprise me. Well not surprise me because I’m not surprised you get better, but- fuck! I can’t get my words out right now.” He can feel you smiling and takes it as a sign to keep going.

“What I’m trying to say is you keep loving me and showing me that you love me in new ways that I didn't even know existed. You’re always taking care of me before games, after games and practices. Even just asking about practice and my day and coming to my games, waiting up for me after road trips. The highs of winning and you right there with me are amazing, but what I love most and what are even better are when you sit there and watch us lose, me lose and you just know how to deal with me afterwards. I can’t tell you how much it helps me to have you hold me after a game or offer dessert or just let me bitch about it. The lows are better because you still want me after. Like even if I couldn’t play hockey anymore, you’d still want me. You still believe in me to do better next game. You inspire me to be better. Off the ice especially”, he takes a deep breath then and as badly as you want to say something, you don’t interrupt him knowing he still has more to say.

“You’ve shown me what it feels like to be loved. Really, truly loved. You take care of my friends, regardless of what they need and you do so out of the goodness of your heart. Watching you with my family, I can’t ever imagine you being anywhere else but a part of my family, Y/N. The fact that my favorite people in the entire world love you makes me so happy I can’t even describe it. You’re FaceTiming my baby sister of your own free will, planning a baby shower with her for my other sister? You keep up with Shay and get Boden out of his shell. I couldn’t dream it up better if I tried. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but somehow I was blessed with you and I swear to you, promise you I will never stop loving you, ok? I love you with my whole heart and then some, Y/N”.

The tears are absolutely streaming down your face and into his hands and his into yours. The moment had gotten so intense and so fast. These were rare between you two, preferring to keep the relationship light and fun, but occasional moments like this where you attempted to pour your whole heart and soul into each other would occur and you were left breathless every time. But of course, you couldn’t resist a good chirp.

“You’re gonna have a hard time topping that for a proposal, Donovan”.

#ryder donovan #shay donovan #owen lindmark #cole caufield #dylan holloway #roman ahcan #mike vorlicky #rydesdono

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