#just scrolling through all my drafts here waiting for food to cook like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up.

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years. But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning.

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course.

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.”

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said.

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed.

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him.

You (9:43am) Of course, send the details. I trust your taste!

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself. Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly…

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you.

Seokjin (9:50am) The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30. Seokjin

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother).

You (9:52am) I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later!

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it.

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely. He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back.

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to.

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again.

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious.

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form.

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea…

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing.

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man.

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately.

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly.

“Hey,” you greeted back.

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment.

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway.

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous.

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #mls:drabbles #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

144 notes · View notes

hockeyisit · 4 years ago

Text

Mother’s Day

Summary: Amelia celebrates her first mothers day as a mother!

A.N. Happy mothers day to all the amazing mothers out there! I love my mama so much and I will forever be grateful to her. Hope you guys all enjoy this!

Word Count: 4,441

Masterlist

I rolled over as I tried to make myself more comfortable, I blindly reached out for Auston only to pout when I found his side of the bed empty. I huffed as I rolled onto my back looking at the ceiling. It was mothers day, my first as a mother seeing as the twins were born just a few weeks ago. I was hoping that when I woke up Auston would still be in bed with me but sadly he seemed to have disappeared.

I heard some loud commotion coming from downstairs before silence. I reached out to check my phone for the time and any messages. 9:45. I clicked my phone open so I could read the messages I had, two from Auston and one from Steph.

Steph:

Happy Mothers Day <3

AM💕

Stay in bed if you wake up.

I responded to Steph first and then drafted up a message to Auston.

am💛

Where are my babies?

AM💕

With me I’ll bring them up.

Not even three minutes later Auston was walking into the room holding Kai and a tray of food, Ema following in behind with Noah. I grinned as I took in the sight before me.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do all of this,” I mumbled happily as I reached out for the Turkey bacon that was just set in front of me.

“Oh shush happy mothers day,” Ema said as she handed Noah to me. I smiled as I took my son from her.

“Happy mothers day to you too,” I responded without looking away from Noah.

“Auston did all the cooking anyway I just supervised,” she reassured me as she pat Auston on the back. He nodded as he looked down at me with a happy smile.

“Well thank you. Did you want any Ema?” I asked pointing down to my food. She gave me a fond look as she shook her head.

“I already ate. I am going to get ready for the day. Bre and Alex should be done with the shower now. I gave her a soft smile before she made her way out of the room. Auston and I had invited his whole family to spend some time with us for mothers day. Ema had been here since the birth of the babies and had been the biggest help we could have asked for.

“You have her present ready right?” I asked Auston as I turned to face where he had sat himself on the bed next to me. He leaned over and grabbed the envelope from his bedside table.

“Yep spa for two ready to go,” he grinned as he shook it. We had decided to get her and Brian tickets for a spa day and then we had booked her favorite restaurant in Toronto for dinner.

“Okay good,” I leaned into his side and rested my head on his shoulder.

“Happy mothers day baby,” Auston whispered as he angled his face to me and placed a kiss on my forehead. I smiled as I looked down at our two beautiful babies in our arms.

“I can’t believe I’m really a mom,” I mumbled into the silence. Auston threw his arm around me and pulled me in closer.

“You better believe it because they are here,” he teased as he reached out to tickle Noah’s foot. He gave a little kick at Auston’s hand causing me to let out a laugh. I reached forward to take a bite of the toast on the plate.

“Mmm this is so good,” I moaned as I ate the toast. Auston sent me a look as he glanced between the babies and then me.

“Good. What did you want to do today?” he asked finally as he reached forward to have some bacon. I chewed my food slowly as I thought about it.

“I want to get a tattoo,” I said causing Auston’s eyebrow to raise in what I could only assume was surprise.

“Really?” he asked, disbelief seeping into his voice.

“Yeah what? Why are you acting like that?” I asked starting to feel slightly insecure. Auston noticed my voice change and his features immediately softened.

“No babe it’s okay I was just surprised you've never wanted to get a tattoo before,” he told me as he ran his hand up and down my arm in a soothing matter. He was right, Auston had tattoos all over himself but I had never been really into the idea of getting tattoos myself.

“I know but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and this is something I want to do,” I shrugged my shoulders.

“What did you want to get done?” he asked gently. I reached over for my phone and pulled up pintrest to show him some ideas I had found.

“This one is my favorite. I would just get the time that the twins were born,” I mumbled as I pulled up a picture that showed two different times in military time. He took the phone from me and took a closer look.

“That's nice, do you know where you would want to get it?” he questioned as he handed me my phone back. I scrolled to the other one I liked of two baby elephants holding trunks with names under it.

“I also like this one. I just don’t know if I want to have an elephant on me,” I showed him the photo. He nodded in approval.

“I was thinking on my arm like maybe my wrist or ankle,” I told him as I pointed to my wrist. He reached out for my hand and ran his finger over my wrist gently.

“I like elephants,” Auston mumbled as he stared down at our hands. I grinned leaning up to face him.

“I know,” I leaned forward to connect our lips in a kiss.

“I can get Bre and Alex to watch the boys so we can go today,” he whispered when he pulled away. I gave him a wide grin as I nodded my head.

----

“Am I a bad mom for leaving the twins on mothers day?” I asked Auston as I sat in the chair in the tattoo parlor. Auston gave me a strange look as he pushed himself up from his chair and over to me.

“Babe what?” he asked, reaching out to grab my left hand. Our wedding rings shining next to each other.

“I’ve never been away from them,” I told him feeling slightly panicked. At first when Auston and I had left for the tattoo shop I was really excited to get away and do this one thing for myself but then when he started driving away I realized that it was the first time I was going to not be with the twins. It seemed silly to think but because Auston had to leave for road trips I was with the kids 24/7 Ema had obviously helped but she had never taken the kids out without me. Auston gave my hand a reassuring squeeze as he knelt down next to me.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

“What if they get hungry or need me or what if they get hurt?” I choked out as I moved to the end of the seat. I was about to push myself up but Auston put his hands on each of my shoulders holding me in place.

“Amelia,” he said sternly, causing me to look at him through my panic.

“The boys are going to be just fine. Alex and Bre are with them and Alex literally helped raise me and Bre so we know she’s at least good with kids. They aren't going to get hurt and if they get hungry you already put milk in the fridge. You're not a bad mother for needing to take a moment for yourself,” Auston reassured me as he moved his finger in a comforting matter over my collarbone. I let out a shaky breath as I leaned back into the chair.

“Hello,” the tattoo artist said as he walked into the room. He was covered from head to toe in tattoos.

“Mike,” Auston grinned as he made his way around the chair to give him a fist bump.

“Ah Tony here for another tat?” he asked as as he pulled away from the bro hug.

“Nah not today. Were here for my girl,” he pointed to me on the chair. I gave Mike a small shy wave. He made his way over to the stool and took a seat.

“Sweet. I’m Mike,” he held his hand out for me to shake. I reached out and smiled.

“Amelia.”

“What kind of tattoo were you thinking about getting?” he asked as he looked over his tattoo instruments.

“Um I have a picture,” I pulled my phone out and handed it to him when I had the picture of the times pulled up.

“Just something super simple with this font in military time,” I told him as I tapped my fingers on my leg. Mike nodded as he looked over the picture.

“Is this the time that you want or?” He asked as he set my phone down next to a piece of paper.

“Oh no um for one can it be 19:45 and the other 20:04,” he nodded his head as he began the sketch.

“Um and can you also add a third one,” I nervously glanced to Auston who had a confused look on his face.

“Can you make it say 09:35,” I said quietly. Mike nodded as he added that number to the list.

“Where do you want them?” he glanced up from the sketch.

“My wrist,” I told him as I showed him where I Wanted it to be put.

“What do they mean? If you don’t mind me asking,” Mike asked as he handed the sketch over to me to look at. I bit my lip as my eyes drifted to Auston.

“The time our twins were born, 19:45 and 20:04,” I told him as I smiled down at the sketch.

“And the first time I met Auston. Our flight took off at 9:35,” I blushed as I stared into his eyes. His smile broke for a second as he was hit with a strong wave of emotions. Mike smiled as he reached around to grab the tools he needed.

“Happy Mothers Day. Have you ever gotten a tattoo?” Mike asked as he moved closer to me so he could start. I shook my head no as I reached out for Auston’s hand.

“It’s going to hurt babe,” Auston warned me. I let out a shaky sigh as I nodded my head. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” Mike questioned. I nodded my head yes as I kept my eyes squeezed tightly. I held my breath as I waited for the needle to make contact with my skin. When it finally did my face scrunched up at the pain while my hand tightened on Auston’s hand. After a few moments Auston spoke up.

“You alright?” he asked. I peeked my eyes open slowly blinking to try to rid the tears that I had gotten triggered when the needle made contact with my hair.

“Yeah,” I choked out after a minute. Auston and Mike started talking as he continued to tattoo my skin.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” I mumbled after a moment. Mike immediately stopped what he was doing and looked over to me while Auston turned to face me.

“Do you need anything?” Mike asked as he stood up. He grabbed a water bottle and brought it over to me. I thanked him as I took the water bottle and took a sip. After five minutes of sitting there I turned my attention back to Mike.

“You can go again,” I told him, he went right back to what he was doing.

“Have you ever passed out before?” I asked Auston, trying to distract myself from the pain.

“Once, when I got the lion done. It took them so long to do it and I was dehydrated towards the end of the day,” he answered reaching out so he could rest his hand on my stomach.

“Is it almost done?” I asked Auston too afraid to look at the progress. Auston glanced down at my tattoo before taking a look at my wrist.

“Yeah babe you're doing great,” Auston grinned as he turned back to look at my face.

“He’s just finishing the last time,” he mumbled leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my cheek. After another few moments of pain it stopped. I glanced away from Auston to my wrist.

“Wow,” I sighed. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the three tattoos I now had permanently on my body.

“Their perfect,” I whispered. Auston grinned as he reached down to rub my arm above the tattoo.

“So perfect,” Auston laughed.

----

“I want to make an insta post today,” Auston told me as he pulled into the garage. We had picked up Chipotle for us and Alex and Bre after the tattoo shop. I glanced up from where I was scrolling on my phone to give him a surprised look. He didn’t normally inform me when he was going to post on Instagram.

“Uh okay?”

“I wanted to post a photo of the boys and you,” he clarified as he turned the car off. Auston and I had decided not to post a photo of the boys yet just because we didn’t want to hear all the comments.

“Okay well what were you thinking?” I hopped out of the car and made my way to the door, Auston following behind me.

“I have this really cool artsy photo I took of the twins holding hands the other day. I want to post that and a photo of when you were pregnant,” he stepped in front of me to open the door. I walked in and thought about it as I slipped my shoes off.

Auston slipped his shoes off and then pulled his phone out to pull up the two photos he wanted to post. I looked them over before shrugging my shoulders.

“I don’t mind if you post them,” I leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before making my way into our living room where Alex and Bre are with the twins. I smiled at them as I walked further into the room.

“How were they?” Startled Alex looks up from Noah in her arms.

“Oh I didn’t hear that you guys were back, how was it?” she asked. I walked over to the couch as Auston disappeared into the kitchen, probably to let Felix out into the yard.

“It was good. It hurt a lot but I love it,” I held my wrist out so the two could see.

“I thought you were only getting two times?” Bre asked as she looked it over. I blushed lightly.

“Uh I got three, the twins time and um the time I met Auston,” I trailed off. Both girls' eyes widened as they took in my words.

“That's so cute,” Alex teased. I let out a surprised laugh as I smiled.

“Thank you.”

Just as I sat on the couch Kai let out a loud cry from Bre’s arms. She tried to adjust his position but his cries only grew louder.

“I think he wants you,” she mumbled over his cries pushing herself up from the couch and making her way over to me.

“Hi baby,” I cooed as I settled Kai into my arms. He let out another loud cry. I shook him as I tried to get him to calm down.

“What is it baby? Hmm. Are you hungry?” I glanced up to see Alex Bre and Auston staring at me with a look of what could only be described as fondness. I knew that he was hungry but I wasn't sure how comfortable I was to breastfeed in front of Auston and his two sisters.

“I think he’s hungry. I’m going to take him upstairs and feed him,” I stood up and made my way over to the stairs.

“Auston,” I paused, turning to face him. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“When Noah wakes up will you bring him up to eat?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. I turned back to the stairs and went up to the nursery. I pushed the door open and settled in the comfortable chair that we had bought for the nursery and I pulled my shirt off so Kai could start feeding. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders so my whole body wasn't on display.

I couldn't believe it was my first mothers day. I had always dreamed about celebrating mothers day with my own children when I was a kid. When my own mother passed away I had slowly started to hate the holiday. It had been years since I had even acknowledged the holiday. Today though had been so special, the breakfast, seeing my children, being with Austons family, and my tattoo. Everything about today was perfect and I just wanted to stay frozen in this moment.

“Hey stranger,” I glanced away from my beautiful Kai to find my beautiful husband standing at the door with my precious Noah.

“Hi handsome,” I sent him a cheeky grin. He laughed lightly as he made his way into the room and cuddled up next to me on the not so big chair. Really this chair was not meant for two people.

“Is he about done?” Auston asked as he wrapped his arm around me. I looked back down at Kai who seemed to be finishing. I nodded as I gently pulled him away.

“Yeah is he hungry?” I asked. Auston nodded his head and we swapped babies so I could start feeding Noah.

“How are you doing babe?” Auston asked gently. Kai started reaching up to play with his mustache. I smiled at the scene before me.

“I’m okay,” I reassured him.

“I know that mothers day isn’t always the easiest for you because of your mom,” Auston spoke softly as he rubbed his hand up and down my arm in a comforting matter.

“I miss her everyday,” I admitted as I stared at Noah.

“I wish that she could have met you and them,” I continued. His hand hesitated for a moment before continuing.

“I wish that I could have met her too,” Auston mumbled as he pressed his forehead against mine.

“Today has been so wonderful though,” I pulled my head away a little so I could have a better look at his face.

“Seriously. You have done everything to make this day wonderful. The breakfast in bed and being there for me when I needed you and the tattoo. The list goes on of how perfect today has been and it’s not even over,” I blushed as he stared at me intensely. He leaned forward and kissed me deeply. I pulled away before it could go further.

“We probably shouldn't make out when our kid is feeding,” I laughed. Auston made a face before laughing along.

“Probably not.”

----

“Amelia,” Ema called as she walked up to the table. We had agreed that all of us kids and the twins would meet Ema and Brian at dinner for the reservation that we had made. It was Ema’s favorite mexican restaurant that Auston and I frequently visited.

“What about us?” Auston asked as he stepped in front of me so that he could pull his mom into a hug. She laughed as she hugged him back before pushing him out of the way.

“Your not a mother,” Ema chided as she reached out to take the seat next to me. Auston and Brian both move to help pull her chair out. Brian gave Auston an approving nod as he let his son take care of it.

“How was your spa?” Alex asked once everyone was sitting again. The twins between Auston and I let out a little sound that could have been leading to a cry if Auston hadn't been so quick to pick up Noah’s binky and place it back in his mouth.

“It was wonderful. Thank you guys for doing that for us,” she smiled at us as she opened the menu. When the server came everyone ordered margaritas except Bre and Auston.

“You don’t want a drink?” I whispered to Auston when I noticed his missing margarita.

“Nah I’m going to drive,” he mumbled back.

“So how was your day?” Ema asked the table. Bre immediately started telling her all the stories of what it was like to babysit Noah and Kai. I listened as the family talked mostly just taking everything in. It always blew my mind how effortlessly Auston’s family loved one another. I had grown up in a home very different from his.

“Isn’t that right Amelia,” Auston laughed causing me to tune in.

“Right,” I smiled, having no idea what they were talking about. The food came quickly and we all dug in.

“So Auston, Amelia. Brian and I have a gift for you,” Ema said as she reached into her purse. She pulled out an envelope.

“What about me,” Bre whined causing us all to laugh.

“Don’t be a brat,” Auston teased his sister fondly.

“Well Auston since you're always doing all of these wonderful things for your father and I and even your sisters we figured we could do something for you guys,” she handed the envelope to me because I was closer. I went to hand it to Auston.

“Open it up for us babe,” Auston said as he pushed it back to me. I ripped the envelope open and pulled out what was inside.

“Two plane tickets to Dubai for fathers day?” I read aloud as I looked them over.

“We would all be coming,” Ema explained.

“We bought enough tickets for all of us and the kids,” Brian told us as he wrapped his arm around the back of Ema’s chair. She nodded as she listened to her husband talk.

“Sweet,” Bre announced as she reached out to bump fist with Auston.

“We figured it would be a nice way for you two to get some relaxing in during the summer but you also don’t have to leave the kids behind,” Ema continued when neither of us went to say anything. I felt myself getting choked up.

“Oh Ema,” I reached out and rested my hand on her shoulder. This was almost too much for me to process.

“You didn’t need to do this,” I continued when I was able to get my voice under control.

“Oh honey don’t worry about it,” she smiled.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” Auston smiled at his mom and dad.

“Auston you do so much for us and I know that a lot has gone on in the past year. We think it would be really good for the family to go away on a trip. But we got you guys your own suite,” Brian told Auston as he handed the server the card. Auston’s frown deepened at that.

“You don't have-” Auston started to say

“Thank you,” I said, cutting off my husband. I could tell that his parents didn’t want to hear it.

“Auston want to see this photo I took of Noah? Or uh it might have been Kai,” Bre said as she pulled her phone out. We all laughed in surprise at the change of topic.

“How can you not tell them apart?” he questioned her as he took the phone to look closer.

“What do you mean! They are identical. Also I don’t see them every single day,” Bre laughed as she pointed out facts causing everyone to laugh except Auston.

“It’s Kai,” he said then turned the phone for me to see. I let out a soft ‘aww.’

“Send that to me,” I told her as Auston handed her phone back.

----

“How’s it going babe?” Auston asked as I finished feeding the twins. I glanced up at him with a tired smile. After dinner we all came back to the house and put on a movie. The twins started fussing towards the end because they were hungry so I had said goodnight to everyone and made my way upstairs.

“Good.”

Auston smiled as he walked in, he pulled his phone out and angled it at me taking a picture.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly as he leaned down to take Noah off my chest. He settled him on his hip as he pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Time for bed buddy,” Auston mumbled as he brought him over to the crib that Kai was already laying in. He reached his hand into the crib and tapped on Kai. I pushed myself up from the chair once I had pulled my shirt on correctly.

“Lets go to bed,” I whispered into his ear as I wrapped my arms around him from behind. Auston turned around in my hold and pulled me into a tight hug. He rocked us back and forth.

“Thank you for being the very best mother,” he whispered. My body filled with warmth as I hugged him closer to me.

“I mean it,” he mumbled. I glanced up at him to press a quick kiss to his lips. He pulled away completely and led me to our room. Once we were inside he shut the door and locked it. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I pulled him into a kiss before he even had a chance to move from the door. Auston pushed me so that I was backed up against the door.

His arms were wrapped around me holding him tight against his body but they slowly slid until his hands were on my waist. He pulled away so that he was leaning his forehead against mine. The two of us were breathing heavily as we stared into each other's eyes.

“I can’t believe I got a tattoo today,” I told him after I caught my breath. He let out a laugh as he leaned forward to kiss me again. He wrapped his arms around my legs and told me to jump. I did as he said and he caught me so that he was holding me up. He walked over to the bed and laid me down on it.

“What do you want tonight baby?” Auston asked as he pushed my shirt up and started placing kisses down my stomach.

“You.”

----

austonmatthews: Thank you to my beautiful wife for bringing these boys into my life. It amazes me every day to see how wonderful you are with them. I know it’s been hard with me away on road trips but you handle everything so well. Happy Mother’s Day Mama love you❤️

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fanfic #auston matthews fic #auston matthews x reader #hockey fic #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl x reader

73 notes · View notes

tact-and-impulse · 3 years ago

Text

@shepherds-of-haven, thanks for the fun prompts! I’ll be collecting my fics on AO3 as well.

encounter

She really doesn’t belong here.

Her fingers nervously run over the extra card in her pocket, as she scans the undulating crowd for telltale ashen hair and displeased features. It’s difficult, with the rhythmically flashing lights overhead. She’s tried calling, but with the heavy bass tingling in her jaw, it’s no wonder that Prihine hasn’t picked up. What her roommate could be doing in this downtown club, she has no idea, but she also doesn’t know the other girl that well. Prihine is from a wealthy Norm family, she never cleans up after herself, and from her frequent complaints, she loathes that she’s living in an ancient and cramped freshman dorm with a scholarship student who never goes to parties. But if something unsavory has happened to her, that would be awful.

So, she renews her grip on Prihine’s student ID and heads further into the building. She keeps to the walls, which are speckled with colorful paint and feel slightly sticky. But with her back covered, it’s safer this way. At first. Someone is shoved out of the crush, their solid back colliding into her, and she instinctively freezes. The pressure is brief, but she doesn’t wait to hear an apology, before she’s scrambling for the first exit sign in sight. She hurtles into a side street, ignoring the protests of a draft, and turns the nearest corner before collapsing.

The night air is cold, and she inhales lungfuls, trying to calm down. Trying not to cry. She has to find Prihine soon, and then, she can go back to campus. Where her classes are. Where the Mage clubs are filled with people who all know each other from Capra, while she was homeschooled. Where the Hunter organizations talk around her, forgetting she can understand their conversations. She hasn’t felt truly alone in years, but right now-

She isn’t. There’s someone here. She lifts her head and at the end of the alley, only a few paces away, she can make out the silhouette of a Hunter. White hair, gray eyes, a couple of piercings glinting in one ear, tattoos running up and down his arms. He’s crouched and balanced on his heels, an unlit stick of charch between his fingers, as he stares at her.

“You okay?” His voice is low and placid, like he’s just woken up.

“I...I just need a minute. I’m not good with crowds in tight spaces.”

“Yeah, I hate it when people breathe on me.”

She vigorously nods in agreement, before realizing. “Then, why are you here?”

“Band has a gig tonight. What about you?”

“I’m looking for my roommate. She forgot her ID, she can’t get back to our dorm without it.”

He gives a skeptical look, tucking the cigarette behind his unpierced ear for safekeeping. “Are you sure she’s in this club?”

While she answers, she takes out her phone. “She hasn’t returned my texts or calls, but she has Instagram. One of her cousins is famous on there, I think, and my roommate’s competitive, so she posts a lot. It looks like she was here in her last one...oh.” She frowns at the website, blocked entirely by a notification. She never did download the app, only searching for clues via Prihine’s frequently used social media, and now she needs an account to continue viewing.

He stifles a laugh, but his expression is only mildly amused as he extends his open palm. “Can I log in and try?”

“Sure. Thank you.” She draws closer to him, passing her device over, and his hand envelops it entirely. His thumbs are almost comically oversized as he types.

“Haven freshman?”

“Yes. Are you an upperclassman?”

“I dropped out a couple years ago. I’m across the street, at the culinary school. Is this the post you mentioned?” He slants the image towards her and she recognizes Prihine’s selfie, taken while she was waiting in line.

“Ah, that’s it! Have you seen her?”

“No, but one of my friends might have. He helps with the band’s publicity, so he’s around. Mind if I ask him?”

“Please, you’d be really helpful. Thank you, um...”

“Halek.” He supplies, as he dials another guy named Riel, judging by the brief greeting when the call goes through.

The conversation is short, and she notices the roommate must be from Leore, but she focuses on locating Prihine for the time being, only speaking to provide information and her own name. Riel doesn’t remember seeing the other girl, but he’ll check with security and will call back when they find her. The line dies, and with her phone back in her hands, she hesitates.

Fortunately, Halek pats the adjacent pavement. “Feel free to wait with me. Band’s not on again for another hour, so I’m not leaving.”

Relief sweeps over her, and she sits down, inquiring. “What do you play?”

“None of the others can agree on a genre, but I’m on drums. We perform around town, sometimes on campus if you’ve heard us before.”

“I don’t think so. Sorry.” She reflexively apologizes. “I don’t get out much.” Certainly, nowhere other than lecture auditoriums and the dining halls.

“What’s your major?”

“Biology, I’m pre-med.”

“Ah, that explains it. You’d get along with my twin brother, he’s currently applying and I don’t envy him. Everyone in our family’s invested in his acceptance, since somebody needs to live up to their standards. He’s not at Haven, but I can give you his number if you have questions.”

“I don’t want to bother him, if he’s stressed out.”

“He’s always stressed out though. That’s just how he is.” Nevertheless, his tone is fond.

“You must be close.” She draws her knees up, interlacing her fingers around them. “Your family doesn’t approve of your career?”

“They never did, they wanted me to be a politician.” He makes a disgusted expression. “No thanks. Too much work.”

“It definitely is. Signing papers, holding press conferences. A lot of people would be breathing on you.” She does her best to maintain a straight face.

“Exactly.” His gaze shifts to meet hers, and she’s not sure who breaks first, but in the next moment, they’re both laughing. Her hair’s fallen loose, and as she recovers her composure, she tucks it behind her ears. Not for the first time, he glances at the white streak, but he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he fishes in his back pocket, removing a small punch card that doubles as an advertisement. “Politics would mean quitting my job at the café too. It’s quiet, we have some Haven students like you.”

She accepts it, noting the offer of a free meal after five purchases. “What kind of food do you serve?”

“Here, I’ll show you.” He pulls up his Instagram, scrolling through vibrant pictures of their daily specials, each plate unique. It all seems appetizing, especially in the short cooking videos. In the clips, his steady fingers arrange sandwiches, work over pans of sizzling ingredients, and decorate confections.

There’s one motion in particular that intrigues her. “How’d you do that? Break an egg with one hand?”

“It’s just easier for me, keeps my other one available.”

“You make it look natural.” She attempts to figure out the trick, imagining an egg in her palm and flexing her knuckles.

“One of the waitresses can do it too.”

“So, is it a hiring requirement?”

He laughs again. “No, the other one breaks every egg she touches. You can meet them and see for yourself. You’d probably get along with them.” There’s a pause, as he gives a thoughtful expression. “Thanks.”

Too surprised, she stammers. “F-for what?”

“Usually, I’m too tired for these late night gigs, but right now, I feel fine. I can make it through tonight.”

“...Me too.” She softly says. Her earlier panic has been forgotten, and Halek’s presence is comforting. She’s having fun, just sitting out here and talking. Laughing, which she hasn’t in a long time. Already, she feels closer to him than anyone on campus.

Riel’s return call interrupts them, with the news that her roommate is currently detained at the club’s entrance and clearly unhappy by the screeching in the background. It’s her cue to go, and she hastily brushes herself off, thanking Halek again.

“No problem. Are you going back to your dorm?”

“I thought I would.” She hesitates for just a second, before venturing. “Or I can stay? And listen to your band’s performance?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “If you want, I can let you in backstage. Take a nap, eat the snacks I brought. You don’t have to worry about crowds at all.”

Oh. That’s very kind of him. Her heart skips a beat, and she hopes she’s not blushing. “Okay then. I’d like that. See you soon?”

“See ya.”

Squaring her shoulders, she makes her way to the front. She braces for whatever abrasive words are in store, but she’s made up her mind. For the first time this semester, she’ll try to have an enjoyable college experience.

#shepherds of haven #shepherds of summer 2021 #she was the best mc for a college au because you know #*identity crisis*

41 notes · View notes

hanii-rose · 4 years ago

Text

•Hello again, I’m the anon who requested gender neutral s/o! Thank you so much for writing such beautifully-written story between Garou and them. I’ve ended up loving it very much it was very good read, aww big kudos for you! ❤❤

And for the next request, as the fandom still hyped about part-timer Garou, how about of the continuation of the previous story:

The s/o has a stable job already, right? And Garou realized that currently being a freeloader in s/o’s house makes him a bit guilty. So he decided to lessen the s/o’s burden by taking a part-time job.

The s/o actually don’t mind of Garou being a freeloader, but seeing Garou becomes so determinated about it the s/o can’t help but feel very proud and happy for him.

Lots of fluffy moments after both of them finished working, like cooking a simple dinner together at home, resting their tired bodies on the couch while cuddling lovingly, Garou and the s/o sharing a lot of soft kisses during it while the s/o praising Garou’s hardworking, etc.

And as it’s the continuation of “Reunited’, of course the s/o is still a gender neutral.

Thank you so much and have nice days! 💖•

I’m so happy that I finally got to this one. There were a few requests before it so I had to complete those and I also had to write for the story on AO3 (-_-;) Sorry if I made you wait too long hehe I’m glad you enjoyed the first one tho

_________________________________________

Reunited Part 2

Garou x GenderNeutral!Reader

You stepped through your door after returning from your 9-5 job. Your muscles and joints ached and you stretched your body in an effort to wake yourself up, the plastic bag full of groceries crinkling with every move.

"I’m home…” you softly called, unable to produce a louder noise.

You took your work shoes off along with your coat and scarf, discarding them carelessly by the door, too tired to put them away.

You heard footsteps approaching and smiled when the Garou came towards you. You walked up to him and fell into his arms. Loosely wrapping your arms around his neck, you spoke softly.

“I am so tired today. I can’t even walk straight…”

He quirked a brow. His arms slithered around your waist and he picked you up, taking the bag of groceries from you and putting it on the kitchen counter on the way the bathroom down the hall.

“Another rough day, huh?”

Garou questioned softly and you nodded yawning.

“You have no idea…”

Garou set you down onto the stable counter of your bathroom and helped you out of your office pants, sliding then down your legs. You were left in your white shirt and socks.

Garou left after fixing you a warm bath. Undressing completely, you sat yourself down in your tub, the water temperature hot enough to soothe the undeniable ache in your bones from such a hard day of deskwork.

After washing yourself and sitting in the relaxing steam for an hour, you opted to get up and leave. Garou brought you your pajamas and you slipped them on, stretching and walking out of the tiled room with a towel in your hands.

“Ya finally done…?”

Garou asked deeply, sitting on the black couch of your apartment. You sighed and plopped down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. His fingers came up to massage your sides and you leaned in closer, the two of you now laying on the couch, Garou’s head on the armrest and your body on top of his.

“Mm, this feels good…” you said, slightly drowsy.

“Yeah.”

The two of you laid in silence, the only sound coming from the T.V. opposite from the couch. Garou turned the volume down, setting the mood perfectly. His hands circled your waist, exclusively close to your derrière. His hot breath fanned your ear and you found yourself nuzzling into him even more.

Your eyes slowly shut themselves and you curled up into a comfortable position. Oh boy, this felt so…cozy.

“C'mon, why are you fallin’ asleep on me?”

Garou’s voice rang out and you instantly awoke from your drowsy state.

“Oh, um…sorry. I’m just very sleepy today.”

“Too much work these days…”

You leaned towards his cheek, connecting your lips with it. And with that you wearily stood up and spoke, “I’m just gonna go take a nap. Too tired to function…”

Garou nodded, reluctantly, and let you go. He watched you tiredly carry yourself to your bedroom and fall flat on top of the mattress, immediately falling asleep.

Garou sighed to himself and leaned back onto the armrest of the couch. This had been going on for a number of days. You come home from work, he bathes you and takes care of you, he tries to fuck you and love you but you blow him off for sleep.

It was starting to get infuriating. But why was this happening to you? Things weren’t like this the first month he was here…

In fact, a lot of things had changed since the end of the month. Your fridge used to be stacked with food, you used to have a lot more things around and most importantly, you were livelier.

It was like he turned everything around for you….

Oh, shit.

He did, didn’t he? Fuck!

You were only so tired because you worked harder to support the two of you, you bought the groceries all by yourself, you cooked for him, man he was just taking and taking.

Garou exhaled harshly on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands in a frustrated manner. He’s such an idiot…

Ok ok, think. What do you do when someone lets you freeload in their house, eat their food, lie around all day and be the laziest bum you can be?

Oh, that’s right! You get a job.

He’s made up his mind. He is going to get a job, but there’s no way in hell he’s gonna tell you that. He doesn’t need you gushing over how sweet and cute he is, not wanting to re-experience the time you teased him for trying to make a pancake. He just wanted to be nice without being called a sweetheart, c'mon!

Now, back to the matter at hand. What job can he actually get that doesn’t require any form of experience or education?

You grab a packet of sweetener from the coffee drawer, tearing open the little paper on top and pouring it into the foam cup that held your recently brewed coffee. You silently stirred with the swizzle stick, observing the boring people of your office from the small break room you stood in.

Leaning against the white counter, you sipped the hot substance and sighed in contentment when it travelled down your throat. You slipped your phone out of your pocket and leisurely scrolled through the recent news articles which lined the screen, stopping to read anything important.

And so you spent the next 10 minutes of your 20 minute break just dawdling around on your phone. You threw away the small cup of coffee that had become too cold and bitter for your liking and trekked back to your office, pushing open the pristine glass doors.

Putting your phone away back into your pocket, you took a seat in your office chair, booting up your computer to get back to making spreadsheets and going over the accounts drafted for last month.

You sighed in boredom, correcting some errors made by your ex-deskmates. It feels so good to have your own office, feels so good to get away from those vermin and feels so good being their boss. Yep, getting a promotion was the best. The only down side was that you had way more work now, your underlings tend to make too many mistakes when it comes to balance sheets. You hadn’t told Garou the news yet, you wanted to do it over a cute dinner. It would be way more impactful that way.

Ah, Garou. He always made you feel better after a long day. Just seeing his cute big head relieved you of all the stress that you carried home. Not to mention the amazing feeling of his unexpectedly soft hair between your fingers as you tug and weave or the overwhelming feeling of his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close and holding your sore body. The touch of his warm mouth on your lips, kissing and worshipping it, invading every intimate part of your form. And the way his tongue felt on your

DING!

Oh, an email from your boss? What’s this about? The she-devil up there never emailed her employees for anything good…

Subject: Executive meeting

Dear D-Wing Employee,

Good Morning. Our company, as you are aware, will be merging with a larger firm, hopefully bringing us larger and more profitable trades.

It has been brought to my attention that many of our business partners and executive directors will be hosting a meeting in the D-Wing of our establishment. It would be most appreciated if all of our D-Wing employees would be willing to postpone their work for a day to enable our higher ups and VIPs to perform the necessary actions in completing this fortunate exchange between two efficient companies, striving to bring better service to the people.

The delay of work shall last from today 10:00 A.M. to tomorrow 12:00 P.M. Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any concerns about this matter, please submit a written letter to the E-Wing, describing your issues.

Best Regards,

Senior Director, Akari Hina

Woah, so you’re basically getting the rest of the day off? And no work at all tomorrow? Hm, maybe your boss isn’t so bad after all.

Packing up and grabbing your coat, you turned off your computer and headed straight for the door, running past all of the other D-Wing employees readying themselves to leave.

Garou sat in the office of a delivery firm, arms crossed and leg bouncing up and down, antsy. He eyed the man in front of him, clad in a suit and tie and looking through the 5 minute resume that Garou printed up.

“So, you’re an expert in ‘being strong’ and 'being cool’. You don’t have much experience, you’re only 18 and you created this resume by yourself?”

Garou nodded, fiddling with the edge of the gray scarf you had gifted him. Ah, another reason to get a job, give you a gift.

“So, did you pass highschool or…? Sorry, I’m confused.”

The man took off his glasses, wiping it with a little cloth that was left on his desk, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, I left after my third year…”

Garou confirmed, and the man put his glasses back on, and intertwined his fingers on the desk between them.

“That’s good enough. It’ll do. Which department are you looking to work in? We have filing, storage, delivery and cleaning. But you look like a strong kid, storage would be perfect for you.”

Garou thought for a moment, face twisting in confusion. Filing…ugh reading. Storage, hmm not bad. Delivery isn’t hard. He refuses to clean after the slobs here.

“I’m up for anything that has heavy work, no reading or cleaning, thanks.”

He curtly informed his soon to be boss. The suited man huffed and opened up his desk drawer for a notepad.

“Sign these and we’ll get you started. Deliveries should be fine, no?”

Garou picked up a pen and signed away, paper after paper. Who knew FedEx had so many policies?

After providing enough details on the notepad and filling up all of the consent forms, Garou stood up, pushing his chair back slightly. He went to turn the knob of the little office door but was halted by the voice of the man, or should he say, his new boss.

“I’ll have my assistant bring you your uniform, also get rid of the hair. It won’t fit in the hat…”

Garou turned the knob exiting the office and strode out into the garage. A small man walked up to him with a transparent bag of clothes, hiding his face behind it. The only thing he could completely discern about the boy was his name written on the tag near his breast pocket, Ibiki.

“Here is your uniform. When you come back tomorrow, we’ll make a name tag for you.”

The cheery, blushing boy spoke, informing Garou of what he needs to do next. Taking the packet from his hands, Garou asked for a bag to put his new clothes in.

Ibiki scurried off to find a bag and retrieved an empty white one, filling it with the plastic packet.

“Thanks.”

Garou was about to walk out when he heard the kid call out to him.

“Hey Mister! You forgot to take our card. You’ll need the bosses number. See, right here. And this one’s mine!”

Ibiki pointed out the two separate cell numbers and Garou nodded. Ibiki placed a shaky hand on Garou’s shoulder and patted the spot, saying something along the lines of 'you’ll love working with us!’. Whatever, he doesn’t care, all he wanted to do was make your life a little bit easier.

You had arrived home an hour ago, Garou nowhere in sight. You decided to shower and read a book while you waited for him to come home. You had already purchased lunch for the two of you on your way back, deciding that the contents in your fridge weren’t good enough to work with.

After Garou had shown up, things had turned for the better. It seemed like he brought you good luck wherever you went. You could recall the time when Garou wasn’t with you, and frankly, they weren’t the best. He made your life a lot more interesting than what it was before.

Standing up and stretching, you trailed towards your bedroom with your book in hand, opting to lay down comfortably and read. An hour and a half had passed and there was still no sign of Garou. But you had forgotten all about that. You munched on some chips in bed, flipping through the pages of your book, so immersed in it that your ears hadn’t caught the sound of your front door opening.

Garou walked into your shared home, taking off the jacket and scarf and hanging it behind the door. The bag which held his new uniform was hung in the wall closet in the living room. He washed himself up and looked around, expecting you to not be here as usual, but something caught his eye. Your work shoes! Weren’t you wearing these today?

Wait were you home…?

He looked around the house, checking each each and every room when he finally decided to check your bedroom.

Opening the door, he waltzed in, his eyes perceived you on your bed, laying on your stomach with your eyes glued to the book in your hand, potato chip hanging from your lips.

You still hadn’t noticed him in the room and he fully took advantage of that. Creeping around the edge of the bed, he stopped momentarily behind you. He licked his lips at the sight of your butt, clad in tight, black trousers. Without warning, he jumped onto you, his hips landing right on top of your ample behind, rough, trained hands gripping your hips to keep you in place.

You yelped in surprise, book flying across the bed as you jumped, or tried to, out of the way.

“W-where did you come from?!”

Your face twisted in annoyance as you asked.

“I should be asking you that. What are you doing home?”

Garou laid himself on top of you, his sharp chin resting on your head and fingers tightly grasping the mattress under you.

“I have the whole day off today! Now, will you please get off?”

Garou chuckled in excitement at your words, arms coming around to flip you over onto his chest as he turned himself over on his back.

“Never.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, relaxing down onto him.

“So, where were you this fine morning?”

Your question had not been answered for several seconds and you asked him again.

“Garou, where did you go?”

You turned around, still obove him, your chest to his. You gave him a questioning look, gesturing him to speak.

“Out.”

You quirked a brow, expression unamused.

“I know that!”

He sat up and hugged you, his sharp nose buried between you shoulder and neck, kissing the skin.

“With a friend.”

Garou said, eyes coming up to look at you, waiting for a response.

“Oh really? You have friends?”

He nodded hesitantly, avoiding direct eye contact.

Ok then, he was being weird… But you didn’t want to pry. What he does while he’s out is his business, there’s probably nothing to worry about. Its not like he’s cheating on you or anything, no, he would never do that, he’s not that kind of man.

HE’S THAT KIND OF MAN!

How could he? I-, You- How?! You were just coming home early from work. Turns out your new position didn’t require you to stay for long hours like before, so you just opted to come home. You had to take the long way around this time, passing by all of the urban workshops and postal firms because your normal road was being repaired. You passed by a FedEx warehouse and you could’ve sworn you saw silver hair and a gorgeous body, belonging to none other than Garou.

That was him for sure! Oh, when you get your hands on him…

You stomped your foot in anger at the scene unfolding before you. Garou, undressing in the wide open garage, taking off the clothes you had bought for him, to put on some drab brown and black shirt and pants. A small man hanging off from his shoulder as Garou walked to the desk to…collect something? What is that…?

The fragile looking boy next to him stopped in front of his chest and took what seemed to be a small card and clipped it to the front of Garou’s shirt. He beamed at Garou and your boyfriend turned to pick up the boxes that were strewn around the warehouse and pack them into individual trucks.

Wait a second. Was he working? Garou was working! Ohhh, of course! Yeah, you never doubted him for a second…

You strolled towards them, unknown to the two inside the dark garage, hiding behind the tall stack of boxes. Playfully walking up behind him, the small man gently tapped Garou on the shoulder. He turned around, large boxes still in hand, obscuring his vision.

“What do ya’ want now, Ibiki?!”

Garou’s sudden outburst scared the young man accompanying him, making him jump back frightened.

“The uh… b-boss wanted to umm… know if you could work overtime. Y-you’ll be payed…”

Answered the trembling voice of 'Ibiki’.

“No, I got better things waiting for me at home…”

Garou’s soft answer made you tear up somewhat, and you smiled very gently. Turning your heel, you trecked back home to wait for him. Oh, you might as well set up a surprise for him!

And so, you sneaked away, racing home to start setting up decorations for your hard working man.

It was around 2:00 in the afternoon when Garou had finally walked through the front door of your shared home. He let out a relaxed sigh and carefully hung his hat behind the wooden door rack and stretched. His shows had already been discarded near the doormat as he made his way over to the bathroom, passing by the living room decorated with fairy lights and a blanket fort.

Wait a second, fairy lights and a fort?! Did he walk into the wrong house?

He came closer to the blankets sprawled across the floor, getting on his knees and picking one up to inspect it, not expecting you to be under it waiting for him.

“SURPRISE!”

You jumped out from under all of the pillows and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his cheeks.

“What’s all this? Yer’ home early again?”

Garou questioned, a confused expression on his handsome face.

“A surprise for you, duh…”

He smirked and coyly slid his arms under your legs, picking you up and setting you down onto his lap.

“No, really? What’s the occasion?”

You gave him a look as if saying, 'seriously?’

“Well, I was walking home from work and I couldn’t take my usual route. I walked past a few shops and I saw you…working. I was so surprised…”

Your voice got quieter as it neared the end and you awkwardly twiddled your thumbs, eyes casted downwards.

“Garou, why…why didn’t you just tell me you got a job?”

Garou let out a huff and ran his fingers through your hair. He looked deep into your eyes and cast you a cute little blush.

“W-well, I know how ya’ kinda freak out when I do…anything so I didn’t say nothin’. I just wanted to help out, ya’ get so tired after comin’ home. I ain’t gonna sit around and watch ya’ work yer’ ass off for me…”

Your fingers gently caressed his face, bringing it closer to yours.

“Garou, the reason I’m so tired after coming home is because I’m still adjusting to my new post at the office. I got promoted and I promise, once I get the hang of it, I won’t be tired at all.”

Garou’s mouth enveloped yours in a sweet exchange, hands roaming your hips.

“I’m really proud of you though…”

Garou broke into a genuine smile, no teasing smirk or smug grin. A genuine stretch of his lips.

“And what do you mean I kind of freak out? I do not!”

You pouted on his lap, crossing your arms and looking to the side.

“Ya’ just planned a surprise for me…”

You blushed and pulled his cheeks.

“Hey, this doesn’t count!”

He chuckled and smirked as you climbed off of his lap and onto the ground below.

“Now take off your clothes and get in here!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in bliss under a large warm blanket. The two of you lovingly cuddling together, watching movies and talking about Garou’s new workmates.

“So, this Ibiki kid follows me around everywhere, it’s kinda annoying to be honest.”

You laughed at his statement and pointed a finger at his chest.

“Well, he probably likes you. You are very handsome…”

He smirked and gave you a suggestive look, pulling your body closer to his under the blanket.

“Too bad I’m not available, right?”

You giggled at his response, snuggling into his warmth.

“Yes, too bad indeed…”

Giving you one last loving look, Garou kissed you passionately, his fingers caressing your cheek. Your own hand laid gently on his cheek, lips tightly locked with his.

Separating, the two of you breathed heavily and smiled.

“I love you…”

Garou softly admitted, giving you another one of his glorious genuine grins.

You happily blushed, hugging him close and whispered.

“I love you too. So much…”

And with that Garou kissed you again, feverishly, pulling the blanket above your heads, ready to take you to heaven.

It really couldn’t get better than this…

_________________________________________

#garou #garou x reader #garouonepunchman #opm garou #garou headcanons #gender neutral s/o #gender neutral reader #no specific pronouns #i love yous #fluff #opm fluff #garou fluff #submission

118 notes · View notes

teaandcrowns · 5 years ago

Text

whispered truce

Chapter Seven: Diplomatic Solution, part iv

_________

It… was actually a really good idea.

Zuko wasn’t sure if it was surprise he felt that she’d come up with something so ingenious, or if it was embarrassment that he hadn’t thought of it first. It’s admiration, a voice that sounded curiously like his uncle’s whispered in the back of his mind. He ignored that voice. Behind him, the Avatar’s waterbender hovered over his shoulder, watching.

“You’re being distracting,” he said, a little irritably. Did she have to stand so close? His arm still tingled with a pleasant coolness from where she healed him.

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry.” Except—she also didn’t move.

Zuko set the calligraphy brush on its porcelain stand and twisted to look back at her. “What is it? Did I miss a stroke in a character? Are my brush lines not clear enough? Do you have an issue with my wording?”

Despite his flurry of questions, Zuko didn’t expect an answer; he expected her to take the bigger hint and give him a little more breathing room. Forging a letter from the Royal Palace Ministry of Domestic Culinary Affairs took a bit more precision from his brush strokes than he tended to give them, and that was considerably more difficult to accomplish with a waterbender breathing down his neck.

She blinked a few times, as if not realizing she was practically invading his personal space. More frustratingly, she still didn’t move.

“I’ve never seen someone actually write that well before.”

That caught him off-guard. “Well, I mean—” he started. “My handwriting isn’t normally this formal. But it has to look official.”

“Still,” she said, leaning even closer over his shoulder so she could reach out and brush fingertips along the empty space to the left of his last line. “The lines are just so crisp and decisive.”

A strange shiver snaked up Zuko’s spine at her words, which he attributed to the time limit and pressure they were under to get this done and in the right place before dawn. He cleared his throat, giving her a pointed look which was completely hidden by the mask. Finally, she got the message and straightened, stepping away from him to walk over to the door of the storehouse. With nowhere else either could really think of, they’d headed back to the record keeper’s storehouse. It still stank in here, but once the waterbender had crystalized the air and captured what she said were droplets of the foul smell lingering in the air, it was bearable. Zuko had no idea what she was talking about, or how crystalizing a scent even worked, but he chalked it up to being a waterbender thing, and so had set to work drafting up a fake letter to forge.

Her plan was simple, but Zuko thought it had a really good chance of working. All the domestic shipments of food and cooking items that weren’t homemade by families or produced in local towns were shipped out from the capital. That included things like rice, barley-wheat flour, soy sauce—and nam-pla. The letter he was writing made the proclamation that an unknown number of nam-pla containers across several shipments got contaminated, and would soon go bad if they hadn’t already. It claimed that because the contaminant had been caught only after the shipments were dispersed, it would take too much time to send representatives to every location and check all the jars that had been already distributed to only get rid of the bad ones. In order to expedite the health and safety of all Fire Nation citizens, it is hereby decreed by the Ministry of Domestic Cultural Affairs of the Royal Palace that all current stores of nam-pla be disposed of. City, town, and village officials are to order a double shipment with their next procurement requests to the capital in order to replenish stores. Failure to comply will be considered a lapse in public stewardship of citizens and location officials will be dealt with accordingly.

“What if they don’t actually get rid of this stuff?” the waterbender worried from her spot by the door. It was cracked open to let fresh air in, and a slant of moonlight spilled in through the opening. “It’ll be really suspicious when no actual officials show up to ensure the jars have been disposed of.”

“They’ll do it,” Zuko replied, picking the calligraphy brush up again to finish the letter.

A beat of silence passes, and he can almost tangibly feel the tension of her concern. “What makes you so sure?”

He didn’t pause in his brush strokes. “I think the mayor here will spook easily enough and comply. From what I’ve gathered, people have only been getting sick recently, so being caught so quickly would most likely make him want to get rid of the evidence. After that, hopefully it won’t matter that Culinary Affairs officials never show up because the poison will be gone, and word will have reached the capital about the skimming he’s been doing here for the last few years.”

“But that also means people won’t be coming around to make sure every jar’s been disposed of. What if some families don’t?”

That thought had occurred to him, as well. Zuko frowned at the scroll, pausing only momentarily in his writing. They couldn’t afford to waste too much more time if he kept stopping mid-sentence. Beneath the wood of the Blue Spirit mask, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

“We just have to trust they’ll all follow the order.”

He heard her pace a few steps behind him. “What if they mayor doesn’t let the people know? How can we be sure the word will actually get out?” Her pacing stopped short. “What if he thinks it comes from someone trying to work against him?”

It was strange, hearing his own concerns voiced so clearly to him. “I think,” he said, slowly, “that so long as this looks really official, he’ll do what it says.” Zuko finished the line he was working on. “I did put in that officials will be coming around to gather the emptied jars and check for compliance, so…”

“That worry will hang over him like a bad banana.”

“Yeah—wait, what?” Her comparison struck him so odd as to be funny, and it caused him to pause so long before starting the final line of the letter, he nearly forgot himself and let ink drip onto the scroll. Thankfully, he caught himself in time and moved the brush away. He’d have to start a whole other letter if a stray splatter of ink found its way onto what was supposed to be an “official” document.

He twisted back to look at her, and saw she had a sheepish smile on her face. She shrugged. “I don’t know, seemed like a fitting saying.”

Zuko shook his head and was glad that his own smile was hidden by the mask. “That was a really bad attempt at a metaphor.”

“Not if that bad banana falls on his head,” she insisted, and he honestly couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking. Why would she be joking with him, after all?

“Is… the fake letter the bad banana?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

“Well, the fake threat of officials coming from the Royal Palace are. The letter’s more the peel.”

Despite himself, despite everything, he almost laughed at that. At the sound, the waterbender seemed to realize the banter starting between them and thought better of it. She cleared her throat a little.

“How’s it coming along?”

Right. Back to business. But… the banter was a good sign, wasn’t it? Maybe if he won her over a little bit, she’d help convince the others that he should be the one to train the Avatar firebending. That was his ultimate goal, anyway.

“Nearly finished,” he replied, picking up the brush again and getting back to work. After a moment, he leaned back a bit to scrutinize his handiwork. “There’s only one thing left.”

“Where to take it?”

“Well—before that. The signature stamp.”

“Oh.” It was clear by the fall of her voice that she understood his concern. “Do you… know it?”

He knew it well enough—most of the Ministries’ seals were variations of one another, and incorporated some part of the seal of the Royal Palace. He’d had them all drilled into him relentlessly during his schooling, so much that he doubted he’d ever forget one. “That’s not the issue. I can recreate it, but it definitely won’t look like it’s stamped.”

“I think I can help with that, too. Can you write it on another scroll?”

Unsure of how exactly she could help, Zuko did as she asked anyway. With careful strokes he replicated the seal to the best of his memory. It was a pretty good rendition of it, that was for sure, but any other thoughts he might have had on it were interrupted by a soft crackling beside him.

The waterbender was shaping the end of a small block of ice while staring intently at the seal he’d replicated on the scroll. When she was finished, she carefully pressed the carved end against the still-wet ink, then used that to stamp the scroll beside the written seal.

“How’s that?”

He compared it to the one he’d written. “Almost. This line should be a little more tapered, and that one just a bit straighter.” Zuko watched as she made the adjustments and made another stamp. He nodded his approval. “Won’t the ice melt into the ink, though?”

The waterbender shrugged, unconcerned. “All ink is, really, is charcoal and water and a little thickening ingredient. I can just evaporate the excess water if need be, but it probably will be so little it won’t make a difference.”

Beneath the wood of his mask, Zuko’s eyebrow lifted in startled appreciation. “You know how to make ink?”

“I know how to make a lot of things,” was her reply. She moved her fingers over the seal he’d written with a fluid twist of her wrist, and the black ink glistened in the lantern light.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, just as she was poised to re-ink the seal. “It should be red.”

Quickly, he rummaged through the storeroom until he found what he was looking for—a small porcelain container with the iconic red seal ink that every letter-writing Fire Nation citizen had. He removed the lid and set it down next to the extra scroll.

“Here.”

With precision, she removed the outermost layer of ice on her block to clear away the black ink still clinging to the corners and contours she’d carved, then dipped the end into the container. Once the seal was coated in red, she hesitated and looked at the forged letter scroll.

Sensing her question before she asked, he directed her to the proper location for the seal, then held his breath for the brief moment she hovered directly above the scroll with the seal before pressing it firmly against the paper. When she drew back, Zuko looked over the letter, nodding.

“This looks…”

“Pretty official,” she finished. “Do you know where it should go? Or who we should leave it for?”

“Yeah. But… it’s gonna be a little more involved.”

#zuko #katara #zutara #atla #avatar the last airbender #renamed Diplomatic Solution on ao3 #is tumblr still doing that stupid ass thing #where posts with links don't show up in the tags???#reposted to test this theory #my fic

13 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

malamente part 7 (branjie) - evan

art by @k-i-t-e-98!

AN: oh hello! It’s been a while! I’ll admit I had abandoned this story and dove headfirst into school this past semester, but I can’t move on from this little world and I really want to see this through. There’s no telling how long the next chapter will take, but I have a plan. This might have 11 chapters total, but that’s an estimate. Let’s see what more trouble I can get these two into. Shoutout to Meggie for her constant encouragement!

New to Malamente? Catch up here on AQ or over at AO3. I’m @formercongressman.

–

It’s a slow news day, but every day is a slow news day in this town. So Yvie’s got her sketchpad unabashedly open over her work computer’s keyboard, knowing there’s no easy way she can make it look like she’s actually hard at work were someone to come in and check up on her.

She’s trying to find the line between human and starfish for the five-limbed creature she’s sketching, and it’s proving more of a challenge than she had anticipated. There’s only so many places you can locate a face.

“Knock-knock,” a voice says aloud. Yvie cringes before she turns around, trying with little avail to block her sketch pad with her body.

Her boss is in the doorway. He looks chipper, he’s got his fist raised as if he was going to knock on her cubicle wall but no, that would be too normal and unobtrusive of a thing for him to do. She smiles with as many teeth as she can show. “Hi, Patrick.”

“How’s that school carnival story coming along?”

“Almost done,” Yvie lies. It’s been sitting in her drafts folder completed for two days. It wasn’t a story she could make anything mildly edgy out of, so she banged out a haphazard scene of kids and goldfish and smiling parents that she couldn’t get away from quickly enough. “Just putting in some final touches.”

He must know Yvie hates him; she’s not subtle, and it bugs her even more that he pretends everything is perfectly peachy-keen.

“That’s great! Because I’ve got something new for you.” He hands her a manila folder which she doesn’t open. “Something a little more exciting, a little more up your alley.”

“Great, I’ll take a look at it.” She sets the folder on her desk, turning away in the hope that he’ll leave.

“What are you drawing? Is that a starfish?”

Fucking hell.

She tosses the sketchpad into her desk drawer and slams it shut. “It’s nothing.��

“Well. Get me that carnival story by the end of the day!”

“Yup.”

She waits until she hears his footsteps recede, muffled by the dreary brown carpet, before she finally opens the folder. She’s curious, truly; that much she can’t pretend.

And damn, he wasn’t lying. It’s a big story, technically. Definitely not the kind of thing Yvie usually gets assigned. The first page is a police report of a rich white lady getting carjacked in the middle of the day about a week ago. The woman is important; she’s the wife of the chair of the symphony board. Yvie’s seen her smiling face on a billboard near the bank downtown, and she looks chipper even in the driver’s license photo paperclipped right below the report.

She knows the story she’s supposed to write. Community Rocked by Violence: Your Personal Wealth is Always Under Threat, with a picture of this woman looking stoic and a little hurt. She’ll write a paragraph about maybe why the guy did it, trying to realize and flesh out the narrative, and Patrick will cut it in editing and simultaneously lob off another piece of her willpower and soul. This story is an opportunity, sure, but she already knows where it’ll go, knows how it’s supposed to end.

She flips to the next page and the hairs on her arms stand on end.

It’s Victor fucking Paulson, smiling with his teeth but not with his eyes, in his Best Buy employee photograph. He’s the suspect, rumored missing for about a week, having taken off with this Nina West’s minivan. There’ll be no sympathetic paragraph for her editor to cut on this one, that’s for sure. She thinks of the screen door to his apartment slamming and waking Yvie up at three in the morning, Vanessa’s voice ricocheting off the buildings as she shouts back up at him, his cold and terse words back at her lost in the buzz of the bugs chirping in the night. He’s an asshole, Yvie knows that for sure. But this level of criminality is downright eerie. She whips out her phone to tell Scarlet.

Y: Have you seen Victor at all this week?

S: no, why?

Y: He stole a car, nobody’s heard from him in a while

Y: Just got assigned the story at work

S: sounds about right for him

S: that’s a big story baby!! happy 4 you

Y: Thanks, but it’s weird right?

S: it is

S: but as they say

S: bye bitch

Yvie chuckles and send back the thankful emoji. That explains why the neighborhood has felt different, why she hasn’t seen anyone coming or going from Victor and Vanessa’s apartment in the last couple of days. She wants to roll her eyes a bit at Vanessa for moving in with that older blonde woman the second her boyfriend skipped town, but she’s seen quicker U-Hauls and frankly doesn’t blame her.

She finds a sticky note on the back of Victor’s photograph. It’s in Patrick’s neat handwriting: police dragging their feet, he’s friends with cops, maybe investigate?

“Oh fuck yeah,” Yvie mutters aloud.

The non-starfish in her desk can wait. Yvie’s finally got a real mystery to solve.

–

“Vaaaaaanjie! Your girlfriend’s here with coffee!”

Silky’s voice booms through the dress store, earning them a concerned look from the few people shopping and a narrow glare from Vanessa’s boss behind the register. Brooke flushes red, nearly spills the latte she’s holding on the wall of wedding dresses beside them. Silky cackles as Vanessa pokes her head out from the dressing room.

“Bitch!” Vanessa hisses under her breath, loosely shoving Silky out of the way. Her cold glare melts as she shoulders up next to Brooke.

“Vanjie, huh?”

“You better not start calling me that.” Vanessa takes the coffee from Brooke’s hand with a well-concealed smirk. “Thank you, baby.”

She doesn’t bring up the “girlfriend” thing. They’re not girlfriends. They haven’t discussed it, haven’t thought to put a word on it. It feels risky, trying to cram whatever tenuous but wonderful arrangement they’ve managed to develop over the past couple of weeks into the box of a word. Besides, “girlfriend” feels frivolous. This is something else, not quite documented with language yet.

“You get off at six, right?” Brooke tucks a loose strand of Vanessa’s hair behind her ear.

“Six, yeah.”

“How does stir fry sound for dinner? I got some purple cauliflower at the farmers market and some Thai peppers and I wanna give it a go.”

“They make cauliflower in purple?”

“Vanessa!” A woman pokes her head out from behind the dressing room curtains, and Brooke watches the ice sink back into Vanessa’s eyes. “I think you already took your break?”

“Be right there!” Vanessa affects her voice, a kind of faux-sweetness that makes Brooke laugh while Vanessa’s manager turns away with a stern eye.

“That sounds real good baby,” she continues, voice softer, “but everything you make is good.”

Brooke rolls her eyes, knows it’s not worth it to argue with Vanessa on that. “I’ll have it ready a little after six, then.”

“I’ll be there.” Vanessa pops up on her toes to press a quick kiss to Brooke’s lips. She breaks into a smile that Brooke can’t help but mirror.

So it’s like that, mostly. It’s easy.

Brooke doesn’t really notice when Vanessa stops promising she’ll go back to her apartment eventually. Brooke didn’t really believe her in the first place, especially when the promises always came when Vanessa was splayed out adorably on the couch or picking up a pile of recently discarded clothing next to Brooke’s bed. Eventually Brooke suggested that Vanessa hang her work clothes up in the empty closet that used to be Jason’s, and that’s probably the moment that solidifies it.

Vanessa moves in. Her duffel bags empty out and disappear, and her makeup spreads across Brooke’s bathroom counter. The cabinets fill up with Takis and sour candy and other foods that would scald Brooke’s mouth, the fridge is stocked with leftover Chinese food Vanessa picks up for them both after work some nights.

It’s nothing like when she first moved in with Jason. He liked space, distance, room to think. Even in those early months he would lock himself away in his office after dinner and go to bed without saying goodnight. But Vanessa joins her in the shower, wraps her arms around Brooke’s waist when she’s cooking, falls asleep with her fingers laced against Brooke’s. Brooke thought maybe she just wasn’t cut out for domesticity. But this feels so fresh and good and right.

Whatever the opposite of loneliness is, Brooke thinks this is it.

It’s a week or so later and they’re sitting by the fireplace, wrapped up together underneath a knitted blanket Vanessa’s abuela had made, while Brooke flips through a Chekov play and Vanessa scrolls through her phone. Vanessa curls against Brooke’s side, a closeness and comfort that’s become thrillingly normal.

“This feels so easy,” Vanessa breathes into the collar of Brooke’s shirt. “Should it feel this easy?”

Brooke knows what Vanessa means. She tucks her book between the couch cushions and cards a hand through Vanessa’s hair. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“I just…” Vanessa sighs, straightens up, bites her lip. It’s a serious and vulnerable face, one that reminds Brooke too sharply where they are and how they got there. “I always wanted some fairytale romance, you know I love that sappy shit. Like in a rom-com where everything sorts out nice and happy in the end. And this, you, this feels like the end of the movie.” Her fingers trace around Brooke’s wrist. “But I keep looking over my shoulder. I keep checking under the bed. I keep biting my lip when I drive past cops, and I don’t know if that’s going to get any easier.”

Brooke pulls her close again, feels the emotion welling up in Vanessa’s shoulders and presses a hand against them, wishing she had her own magic to will it away. “I want it all to be easy. But life’s not a movie.”

“I know. I just want it to be.”

It’s quiet except for a few sniffles. Brooke holds her because it’s all she can do.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to be normal?” Vanessa asks after a moment.

Brooke smiles a little. “We were never normal.”

“Can we try it for a while? Cook dinner together, watch trash TV, tell me the shit from your past and I’ll tell you mine?”

That Vanessa’s eyes can glimmer like that after all of it, after everything, is reason enough to agree.

When Jason was still alive, Brooke had given up on a home. Hell, she’d largely abandoned love, or the concept of getting anything she’d expected or hoped for in life. Even someone who seemed like the most brilliant match – wealthy, educated, with famous friends and a divine record collection – could ruin your world, take and take until you were hollow and fragile as a seashell. Vanessa was far from her fairytale fantasy. Vanessa ticked none of the boxes she’d learn to look for. But life is not a movie, and maybe she could throw out that broke-ballerina-to-trophy-wife storyline script along with the coldness and cynicism she’d so far managed to shake.

“I want that,” Brooke breathes. “Yes, please, let’s be normal.”

Vanessa smells like spice today, cinnamon sugar with cloves. She laughs a soft laugh that’s just for Brooke, one that crackles like a fireplace. It’s warm here, Brooke thinks, the kind of place she could make a home.

–

The next morning, normal gets off to a rocky start.

The doorbell rings at eight A.M., and Brooke wraps herself in a robe to answer it. Her shoulders tense when she sees the gardener, who’d dug up her backyard before there was another body to bury. She had forgotten to call him to tell him there was no garden to fix, an oversight that snapped her immediately awake.

“Morning, ma’am. Warmer day today, thought I’d fill in your garden plot out back.” He’s chipper.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. It’s already filled in.” She mirrors his smile. “Just eager to start planting, that’s all. I’ll still pay you for today, of course.”

The gardener looks at his shoes, and then towards the gate. Brooke holds the silence, an old trick she’d learned at fundraisers with Jason to maintain control of an unpredictable situation, when someone else was thinking. Any awkward silence can be a power grab if you minutely twist it in your favor. Fortunately the man doesn’t need much convincing.

“Alright then, Ms. Hytes. Thank you for your business.” He turns to leave and grabs something at the base of the doorstep. “Oh, and here’s your paper.”

She takes the paper from him, lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as the door clicks behind her. That hadn’t been suspicious, she’s pretty sure, and her confidence grows by a centimeter.

She’d never cancelled Jason’s Sunday paper subscription, and she barely kept up with local news anyway. She lays it absently on the kitchen island while she fumbles with the french press, still a little too sleepy to remember exactly how strong Vanessa liked her coffee. Very strong, she guesses, and dumps and inordinate scoop of grounds into the glass.

“You bringing me breakfast in bed?” Vanessa appears in the archway, wrapped tightly in the comforter she dragged along with her.

Brooke smiles. She can’t think of a better morning. “Yeah, get back in there.” She pops a few slices of sourdough in the toaster.

“It’s cold without you.” She moves towards Brooke, nestling back into her. For a brief moment she allows herself that indulgent, cliche thought: they fit well together.

“If you were wearing clothes–” Brooke starts to tease, but then she catches sight of the front page of the paper, and her face contorts in shock.

“What? Did I–” But then Vanessa sees it too, and her shoulders tighten. “Shit,” she breathes.

The lower quarter of the front page is Victor’s face in black and white, stern and unfeeling. It’s his Best Buy employee badge photo. There’s a smaller photograph of Nina with Jon and the kids, their Christmas card photo from this year. But she can’t look away from Victor, whose gaze seems to be boring holes right through the newsprint.

Brooke reads over Vanessa’s shoulder. Thankfully, there’s not much there. It’s a scathing indictment of the police working on the case, who refused to tell the reporter nearly any of the details they had, apparently because they weren’t looking into it. It’s a call for answers, ones that the reporter herself wasn’t able to find. That’s good. That’s something.

“They’re still looking for him,” Vanessa says, worried.

“The police aren’t.” Brooke bites her lip, and rubs small circles into the skin of Vanessa’s shoulder with her thumb. “And Nina won’t push them. There’s nothing here to worry about.” And Brooke surprises herself by believing it.

The toast pops up. The kitchen smells like rosemary.

“Let’s forget about it, then.” Vanessa turns away for a moment, shakes her joints loose, and then looks up at Brooke with the trusting beginning of a smile. “We can forget about it.”

Brooke rolls up the newspaper and wedges it underneath folded cardboard in the recycling bin.

–

“The front page!”

Scarlet elatedly drops the newspaper down on the bed where Yvie is still cocooned in the covers. Yvie saw a draft before it went to print, so this is no surprise, but Scarlet’s bright energy this early in the morning hits squarely her like a dropped pallet of bricks.

“Under the fold,” Yvie murmurs, snaking an arm out to peek at it.

“Yeah, but it’s the front page! My girlfriend is on the front page on a Sunday. I’m getting this framed.” Scarlet bounces on and off the bed, then heads for the kitchen. “And I’m popping champagne.”

Scarlet likes champagne, always keeps a bottle or two in the back of the fridge to mark the smallest celebratory occasions, so it’s not that rare of a moment. There’s no orange juice for mimosas, but that doesn’t stop her. Yvie knows it makes her happy to pop a bottle, so she lets Scarlet shoot it off over her bed and the cork smashes directly into the light fixture. Scarlet cackles, Yvie rolls her eyes, and they drink directly out of the bottle.

“I hope this doesn’t lead to them actually finding him,” Yvie says between sips. “It’s been so much quieter next door.”

“He’d end up in jail, right? Or at least if he came back there’s no one left for him to shout at.”

“Lucky Vanessa.”

Yvie missed having her around, and she knew Scarlet missed having someone to snoop on. But even then, she knew that anything would be better for Vanessa than staying in that place. Yvie left home on her eighteenth birthday. She knows the allure of an escape hatch.

Still, there was more that just felt… off about Victor’s disappearance. While she had been researching the story, Yvie had called the toll companies for the highways outside of town, and there was no evidence of any plates matching the ones on the stolen car. D15NEY, a cheesy vanity plate she’d repeated too many times to forget. He could have taken back roads, sure, but stolen cars just usually don’t stay stolen for long. It got under her skin that the police hadn’t called to ask those questions, though they still didn’t have any satisfying answers.

Maybe that wasn’t her job. Maybe that was well above her pay grade. Maybe she shouldn’t be so bothered about a rich white lady who lost her minivan. But she had a feeling that kept itching at the back of her neck, Victor’s gaze glaring vacantly from that Best Buy photo, and the persistent inability to drop it.

“Hey,” Scarlet says, snapping Yvie back to reality. “I’m proud of you. And you should be proud of you too.”

Yvie leans over to kiss Scarlet’s forehead. “I am.” It’s not a lie. It’ll open up more interesting projects at the paper, maybe even a promotion out of working under Patrick down the line. And then a bigger paper, and then something national… She’s getting ahead of herself.

“And hey,” Yvie says instead. “You know I love you, right?”

Scarlet beams and nods and scoots up the bed to kiss her, but her foot gets caught in a blanket and she topples forward. Champagne splashes on the comforter, which has seen much worse, and Yvie laughs as Scarlet rolls into her arms.

“Drinking on an empty stomach at nine in the morning…” Scarlet muses to herself. “Bad idea.”

Yvie finally pulls herself out of bed, and drags Scarlet along with her. “C’mon, put a shirt on. I’ll make you toast.”

–

It still looks a bit like an unmarked grave, so Brooke plants her garden.

It’s winter, but they’re pretty far south and Brooke researches some plants that are hardy enough to still grow. Spinach, kale, rainbow chard; dropping the seeds into the soil feels like she’s sending them on a doomed mission, but she does it anyway. But soon they sprout, soon they flourish, and Brooke can hardly contain her excitement.

“It’s all the extra nutrients they got in there,” Vanessa jokes when Brooke drags her out into the yard to show her the leaves peeking out through the dirt. Brooke isn’t sure whether to grit her teeth or laugh, so she does both.

Maybe Vanessa’s right. A corpse in a garden is something like compost.

Soon they’ve got more greens than they know what to do with. They make salads and stir-frys and smoothies but it’s still more than they can eat. Brooke snags a small stand at a weekly farmer’s market, and gets hooked on this new reason to get out of the house. She quickly learns why it was the last spot available, nestled between a particularly smelly fishery and an apiary that likes to bring along some of their bees, but she learns to live with it and breathe through her mouth and she sells the veggies off at rock bottom prices. Turns out Vanessa’s magic can get rid of bee stings like they’re nothing.

Time passes. The cold air softens, and a weed springs up from a crack in the cement under the carport and weaves itself through the spokes on the wheel of Nina’s van.

Holidays with their respective families come and go. Brooke is grateful her family is too cautious and uptight about grief to ask her if she’s seeing anyone, but when she facetimes with Vanessa that night she finds out there’s a horde of Mateos eager to meet her. They come over in early February, and Brooke and Paula cook side by side while Vanessa’s cousins gleefully raid the liquor cabinet.

She overhears Paula whispering something in Spanish to Vanessa in the hallway – esta suerte, para encontrar alguien tan sincera y cálida e inteligente, es algo que solo ocurre una vez en la vida – too fast and affected for Brooke to understand. A second later she sees Vanessa dabbing at red eyes, careful with her makeup, and Brooke gathers her up in her arms.

“They’re happy tears,” Vanessa explains. “Really happy ones.” Brooke kisses her eyelids anyway.

They manage to get Nina, Silky, and A’keria together in the same room for a dinner party, and the night seems to be off to a rough start when Silky shouts over every carefully planned conversation starter Nina tries to initiate. But there’s very little an entire bottle of tequila can’t fix, and soon Nina and A’keria are dancing to Nicki Minaj while Vanessa and Silky shout out less-than-tasteful alternate lyrics over the music. They all crash in guest rooms, and Brooke is pretty sure she can hear Nina mumble, “Much more comfortable than the back of my car,” before she falls asleep on top of the covers with her clothes on.

Vanessa says it first. Brooke brings her an iced dragonfruit tea with boba home from the farmer’s market on a Tuesday afternoon. Vanessa is wrapped in a tangle of blankets on the couch, nearly finished with the Donna Tartt novel Brooke had gifted her just a few days before. She takes a huge sip from the drink, and with a mouth full of tapioca pearls, it’s a grateful sigh: “Ugh, I love you.”

It’s so casual that Brooke almost doesn’t catch it, and Vanessa is so wrapped up in the book that she doesn’t even look up. But Brooke pauses, waits, hopes.

Vanessa looks up quizzically and Brooke watches the gears in her head turn. The color rushes from Vanessa’s face as she catches up. “Oh fuck, I mean–”

“I love you too.”

“I love you,” Vanessa says it again, and Brooke knows that the dopiest smile is spreading across her face. Bubble tea forgotten, Vanessa climbs into her arms. They say it back and forth until the words almost lose meaning on their tongues.

She’d said it to a few high school boyfriends, said it to Jason, said it to the Icelandic ballerina after a week and scared her away, but this is the first time it’s felt right, and mutually true. Now Brooke says it whenever Vanessa leaves for work for the day; Vanessa says it when she comes against Brooke’s mouth and she could never have imagined I love you sounding both holy and obscene.

It’s like nothing ever happened. Normal works, until the ground thaws.

For a few rainy days in early April, Brooke lets the garden go untended. She’s about to plant her first tomatoes, and she wants to make sure she has the perfect weather to be able to spend all day lining them up in perfect rows. Her shoes squelch in the mud, a feeling she’s almost come to enjoy, along with the dirt that cakes into her knees as she crouches down.

But then she catches it. There’s a corner of a black trash bag peeking up from the dark soil.

She wants to live in the moment where it’s just a piece of trash that’s blown in from another yard, before everything clicks into its horrible place. It’s torn on the edges, tattered like an animal had gnawed at it. Shit. She’s scooping soil on top of it before she can even think, pushing it back down into the ground and far away. She feels something shift, something that is decidedly not soil underneath her hands but she refuses to think about it, refuses to give it a name.

The tomatoes won’t get planted today. She’ll wait for another day of rain to wash away that texture beneath her fingers, and that memory from her skin.

When she stands, she feels a tweak in her back and winces. It doesn’t resolve when she stretches or twists, just pinches back harder with every breath. Of course. Phenomenal.

Brooke pours herself a glass of wine and takes a bath. It’s three in the afternoon, but that doesn’t matter. Warm water doesn’t loosen the tension in her muscles, and the lavender scent of the bubble soap seems oddly tinted with hints of iron. She closes her eyes and resists excavating anything she’s managed to keep buried for months now.

She’s dressed in sweats when Vanessa gets home from work, curled still uncomfortably on the couch.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I pulled something, I think.” Brooke omits any mention of the trash bag in the garden. It’s gone now, and it will stay gone, no need to bring it back up.

“Here, sit up.” Vanessa’s hands on her shoulders are an instant relief.

Vanessa doesn’t use her magic often, doesn’t need to. She’ll use it to wipe away her own bruises from running into cabinets or when Brooke’s got a pimple in the middle of her forehead, and on the rare and glorious occasion, in bed. Now, Brooke feels the warmth from Vanessa’s hands sparkling under her skin. The knot against her spine comes undone, the stress that she hadn’t noticed before melts from her shoulders.

Vanessa catches it. “You doing okay?

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” It’s a lie, and Brooke hopes Vanessa can’t sense that.

Vanessa hums and Brooke feels her reaching deeper, into the base of her spine. Something opens. “I think I–”

Lightning strikes. It feels the way broken glass sounds, exploding in shards that crackle their way up and down Brooke’s back.

“Fuck,” Vanessa shouts, pulling her hand back sharply and shaking it like she’s been burned.

“What was that?” Brooke tries to reach for Vanessa, tries to comfort her, but she holds her hand close to her chest. The electricity lingers in Brooke’s body, crackling like a blanket loaded with static.

“I don’t know.” Vanessa rubs her palm, pain in her face. Brooke wonders if she can heal that kind of thing herself. “Abuela never… I don’t know. Fuck, I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m sorry.”

Vanessa gets up and runs her hand under cold water. Brooke sits on the couch, silent and particularly helpless.

Something is catching up with them, but Brooke has no words for it. It’s seeping into their normal, which turns out to be more fragile than she had thought. Ordered rows of tomatoes and the easy comfort of fresh love feel a bit distant. She feels it in every vertebra.

They decide that if nothing else, it’s a safe night for a TV binge. They order pizza and curl up on the couch, as Brooke holds tight to Vanessa and tries to settle into the weird static sensation in her spine. She catches Vanessa flexing her hands, rubbing her fingertips together, still feeling the aftereffects of the shock. They settle into bed like any other evening, huddled in the weight of too much unexplained.

Most nights sleep comes easily, but tonight it’s miles away. She silently counts to ten, fifty, a hundred, and still can’t get the thrumming feeling of worry in her chest to go away. After an hour or so of sleeplessness, she slips her arms from around Vanessa and gets up to find a book in the living room.

She stops suddenly before she can even make it to the living room.

Jason is sitting in a chair by the bar.

There are a few things you expect from a ghost. They’re supposed to be see-through, or pale and ragged like a corpse, or at the very least levitating. Jason is none of those things. He looks solid, human, too comfortable in a spot where he so often used to sit. He’s got a glass of dark liquor in his hand, swirling a large ice cube around, with a rueful smirk carved into his face.

If she hadn’t watched him die, hadn’t felt him go cold, she might think he let himself back in with the key.

“Brooke Lynn.” His voice has a sour edge, and she’s instantly reminded of how much she hates the way her name sounds when he says it. “It’s been too long.”

“This isn’t real,” she says confidently, elbow planted on the back of the other chair.

He cocks an eyebrow. “You wanna test that?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Jason throws his glass at her, and she braces herself, but the glass passes through her, no impact. She glances over her shoulder, looking for glass shards or any sign that this was real.

“I thought so.” Brooke narrows her eyes knowingly, a little self-righteously, and god it feels way too good to be able to look at him like that with no repercussions. A bit callously, she sits in the chair across from him.

“You still flinched,” he notes. There’s another glass in his hand, refilled with scotch and ice that clinks against the sides.

“Why are you here?”

“You drank all my scotch.”

“Well, you weren’t drinking it.”

“And there’s a 26-year-old shop girl sleeping in my bed.”

“My bed, now.”

“You always were a vindictive bitch, weren’t you? Under all of that? She can’t see it now, but give it a year. You know you’re meant to be alone.”

Brooke bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood. Jason always knew how to drive a knife.

“Why are you here?” she repeats.

“You’re getting too comfortable, that’s why.” The ice clinks against his glass. “I’m here so you don’t forget.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you didn’t even know him–”

“I’m talking about me,” he smirks.

“You always are.”

“Would you listen? God. Justify that body in your garden all you like, but can you justify what you did to me? Have you heard of divorces, Brooke Lynn? Police reports? Fighting back?” Brooke feels her jaw tighten, and Jason catches it. His eyes light up, his words drip with sickly-sweet contempt. “No, instead of facing me, you spit on the life I gave you and killed me. You’re cheap, you’re greedy. But there’s quite a few different ways to stab someone in the back, huh?”

“Stop.”

Brooke feels ice prick at the base of her spine. It’s subtle, the first snowflakes just starting to fall.

Jason laughs softly to himself. It’s a face she’s seen too many times on him, that smug self-righteousness, one she never imagined having to see again. It’s engraved in the contours of his face, she notes. There’s no way to know the cruelty behind those laugh lines.

“You said it, honey. None of this is real. What does that say about what’s going on inside your head?”

Brooke stands, turning to leave, to run. She wishes she had a drink to throw in his face, wishes she had some way to hurt him. “You’re burning in hell.”

“Go back to that girl,” he calls after her, and she can hear his cruel smile. “You’re going to destroy her.”

In the hallway outside the bedroom, Brooke presses her face into the sleeve of her sweatshirt and breathes. Each breath is ragged, threatening to turn into a sob, but she packs it up tight, pulls it inwards and downwards. The pinpricks spread. Fuck.

Jason knows right how to get to her, how to wedge into those soft spots and make her wish they were never there. It’s impossible to write off. Ghost or fever dream, she’s haunted.

She presses the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, sets her shoulders, and goes back to bed. She settles in next to Vanessa, who rolls back into her touch.

“Hey, were you up?” she murmurs softly.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

“You talking to someone?”

“Nina.” Brooke lies. “On the phone.”

“Mmm.” And she’s asleep again.

Two lies in one evening. You’re going to destroy her, he said. Vanessa twists warm against her, settles against her chest. Brooke hopes Vanessa can’t feel her heart racing from where she rests her head.

Sleep comes in fragments, waves of unconsciousness so shallow she’s not even sure if she’s slept. Ice blue shards slice up and down her spine through the night.

–

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #branjie #scyvie #hurt/comfort #magical realism #malamente #evan #tw domestic violence #tw murder #concrit welcome #lesbian au

10 notes · View notes

rulesofthebeneath · 6 years ago

Text

how bout a dance: part 13

<AN> Me? Stop doing Saturday updates of hbad just to start them again when they’re least expected? Of course!!

I don’t think even I saw this coming when I first had the idea for a future!ajay x mc AU about a month and a half ago. And 103 pages, 35990 words, and 43 days later... wow. This is it. I’m really tearing up, honestly.

You guys have been so amazingly supportive of this, and I couldn’t be more grateful! This, the thirteenth and final chapter, is dedicated to everyone who read, liked, replied to or reblogged any part of this fic. You guys are my lifeblood, thank you so much for reading.

Before I do the tag list and finally get this show on the road, I wanted to share this comment I left on the fic the second I finished drafting chapter 13. It’s... absolutely me.

Anyways. Thank you.

also gonna warn again for references to explicit activity and like hella suggestion, but as always nothing explicit. </AN>

Tagging: @pixelburied @itsbrindleybinch @witchiegirl @ajaysbhandari @catlady0911 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @ylevolenahs @awkwardalbatros @ravenclawpokegirl25 @aidenzhous @hufflepvnk @lorosette

Grace woke up Monday morning to sunlight streaming through the windows into the peach-colored room and a pillow pressed up against her back. She groaned and rolled over, stretching out, and finding the other side of the bed empty.

She was disappointed until she heard conversation and laughing from the other side of the door and a delicious smell wafting in. Grace was hungry. She popped her back, then sank her toes into the soft carpet. After pushing herself up she rummaged through her bag, grabbing a sports bra and a pair of shorts to wear with the t-shirt she’d slept in. She brought the collar up to her nose and sniffed–it smelled just like him, a soapy smell with a little mint. She quickly put the clothes on, then opened the door to Ajay’s bedroom.

She leaned against the door frame for a moment, a soft smile crossing her face as she looked out into the kitchen. He was there, stirring something in a saucepan while his roommate (his name was Jake, Grace dimly recalled) sat at the breakfast bar nursing a large cup of coffee. A timer went off somewhere in the kitchen.

“Dammit, I almost forgot about the muffins,” she heard Ajay say. “Jake, could you please–”

“I’m on it.” As Jake was getting off his stool, he turned and noticed Grace.

“Hey, Grace!” he called over with a smile as he walked around to the oven. Ajay whipped his head around, his face lighting up when he saw her.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Grace pushed herself off the door frame and walked over. Jake, having gotten the english muffins out of the oven, gave a huge yawn as he walked over to Grace.

“Sleep well? I didn’t,” he smirked, holding out a hand for her to shake. She turned scarlet, instantly realizing what he meant.

“Jake, stop being a dick,” Ajay called from the kitchen. Grace tentatively took Jake’s hand, opening her mouth to apologize when he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Really.” Then Jake turned back to the breakfast bar, climbing back on his stool. Grace made her way over to Ajay, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind while he waited for the poached eggs to finish cooking. He turned his head to kiss her on the forehead.

“Grace, this fool is bringing someone home at least once a week. I guarantee you he didn’t care.”

Still red, Grace buried her face between Ajay’s shoulder blades, taking the moment to breathe in the smell of his t-shirt. But she dropped the subject.

“What are you making?” she asked in a voice still a little rough from just waking up.

“Eggs benedict,” he said proudly. “I’ve been working on the hollandaise sauce for days.”

“Aw, all this for me?”

“No, for me too. And for Jake, because apparently he thinks he can come out here, make fun of me, and still get free breakfast.”

“It’s true, though! You’re literally making enough for three.”

“I’ll throw this plate at your head,” Ajay joked, not even turning to look at him. Ajay made a move towards a slotted spoon on the counter, so Grace released him and went over to sit at the breakfast bar.

“So. Jake. I want to know all his embarrassing stories,” Grace said. Jake took another long sip of his coffee and rubbed at his eyes.

“Well, most of what he’s done lately has been talking nonstop about you,” Jake grinned.

“Jake!” Ajay yelled, nearly dropping an egg back into the pan. Jake just laughed, and Grace joined in.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Jake said, patting the counter, “Why were you guys laughing last night? Ajay, did you-?”

“Okay, we are definitely not talking about this,” Ajay said hurriedly, cutting him off. Grace blushed again, but smiled apologetically when he set a plate down in front of her. She eagerly dug in to the eggs benedict, finding the hollandaise sauce to be a perfect compliment to the egg, canadian bacon, and english muffin.

“This tastes amazing! I could get used to this.”

“Anything for you. Coffee?” Ajay asked.

“Ooh, yes please. Two sugars and a little milk.”

“Coming right up.”

“Hey I’ll take another cup, black,” Jake piped up. Ajay glared at him as he set Grace’s mug down in front of her.

“Get it yourself.”

Jake, hands up in surrender, walked around to the coffee machine. Ajay finished serving up the eggs, then took a seat across from Grace. Once she’d finished a bite, he pulled her in for a kiss. Then he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“How are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“Amazingly,” she replied, picking his hand up and kissing the back. Ajay was about to kiss her again when Jake settled back on his stool, fresh cup of coffee in hand.

“So, Grace,” Jake said, “Tell me about yourself! Ajay’s told me a lot, but that’s mostly been about your talent or how amazing you are.” Ajay turned red, burying his face in his hands and groaning. “I want to know something with more substance.”

“Well, um, what do you want to know?”

He paused, possibly thinking over possible questions. “What’s your favorite thing to do on a free weeknight?”

Grace tilted her head, considering the question. “I’d have to say watch movies. I have all these movies, old and new stuff I got from thrift stores, and I’ve been slowly working my way through them.”

Jake’s face lit up. “Oh, you like movies? That’s awesome. Ajay, you didn’t tell me she was this cool!”

“Pretty sure I did,” Ajay retorted, then turned to Grace. “He’s an indie film editor,” he explained.

Jake checked his watch and cursed, getting up. “Speaking of which, I have to go. I’m almost late and it’s your fault.”

“Payback!” Ajay yelled at his retreating back. Then he turned back to Grace.

“Sorry about him.”

“I’m embarrassed!” Grace wailed, putting her hands in front of her face. Ajay tugged her wrists away.

“Don’t be. He’s literally done that exact same thing to me over and over. He doesn’t care, he just likes to tease.”

“If you insist…”

Ajay grinned at her and sat back, finishing up his breakfast. “You like the eggs?”

“Loved them,” Grace replied. “The sauce was perfect and the muffins were even better. I’m lucky to have snapped you up, with all these baking skills. I thought your cooking was like a dream in high school, I didn’t know they could get better.”

“Oh, I did a summer abroad in Paris during college and took a few classes there. I still can’t even compare to the experts. But thank you, I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Ajay, you know I’d be happy here if you made me a bowl of cereal. You make me happy, the delicious food is just a plus.”

He shook his head and beamed at her. “How did I get lucky enough to get a second chance with you?”

“We’re both lucky.” Grace leaned in to kiss him, but jumped back when Jake bustled through the apartment, a briefcase over his shoulder.

“See you guys.”

“Bye!” Ajay called, then stood up to shut the door behind him and swept Grace up into a bruising kiss, running his hands down her sides.

“I thought he’d never leave,” he whispered, making her giggle. He kissed her deeply, then pulled back.

“So, we’ve got about four hours until we have to be at strike. Did you want to go home, or do you want to stay here?”

“I’ll stay here. It’s closer to the theatre. And also that means I get to spend more time with my boyfriend, so it’s a win-win.”

“Great,” he smiled. “Anything in particular you want to do?”

“Do you have Netflix?”

“Yep!”

“Then let’s watch a movie and cuddle.” Grace decided.

“Sounds great to me! Which movie?”

“Ooh, what about Hairspray?”

“You have good taste. I’ll get it cued up, you grab some blankets from my bed.”

A few hours later, Grace and Ajay watched the credits scroll across the scene. Ajay’s arm was still around her, her legs thrown across his lap.

“Every time I watch that movie I remember why it’s my favorite,” Grace sighed. Ajay laughed at her gently, then pulled his arm back. She took her legs off his lap, turning to face him.

“Okay, now we’ve got one hour before strike. And I actually thought of something I wanted to do,” he said, gently taking her hand.

Grace wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“No! I mean, yes, but I actually wanted to say something.”

“Alright, go for it,” Grace said, taking in his serious expression. “Everything okay?”

“Of course. I just need to say something, in the interest of complete honesty between us.”

“Spit it out,” Grace said, growing concerned. He didn’t make eye contact, instead staring at their linked hands.

“Okay. So,” he huffed, “I don’t know if I should qualify it by saying ‘again’ or ‘still’, but…” he trailed off, seemingly losing his nerve. She tightened her grip on his hand, trying to offer him support. But it was hard to support him when she had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth next. He took in a deep, shuddering breath and finally met her eyes.

“Grace, I love you.”

She let the words resonate around the small apartment, her grip on his hands slackening and her eyes widening. He looked like he wanted badly to take it back, but they both knew he couldn’t.

“I- Ajay,” Grace started, then stopped suddenly. It was as if her entire brain had switched off when he’d said those words. Her heart started beating faster, like it was making up for her head’s inactivity.

He squeezed her hand, looking a little sad but still smiling. She looked away, still trying desperately to figure out how she felt about it.

“You don’t have to say it back, I know it’s really soon and we’ve both been through a lot, but I had to say it. I don’t know if it’s because of the friendship we rebuilt over the course of the show, or if it’s because we rekindled something, but that’s how I feel. And I won’t say it anymore until you’re comfortable with it. But I needed to tell you.”

He kept rambling, but Grace didn’t register any of the words he said past that. Tears pricked in her eyes, and her brain was finally startled back into action. Between the tears and the pounding in her chest, Grace figured out exactly how she was feeling.

“I love you too,” she said suddenly, cutting him off. She finally looked back at him, lacing their fingers back together. “I love you too.”

She watched as the realization spread across his face, a hesitant smile forming there.

“You love me?” he asked, voice shaky.

“I love you,” she replied, and found it to be the truest, rawest feeling in her head. “It’s not too soon. Between our friendship, our previous relationship and all the emotions of last night, I… it’s not too soon. It’s the perfect time. I love you again, and I love you still.”

They sat and stared at each other for a moment, lost in a universe all their own. She watched as he went from near disbelief to shock to pure love, something that she’d seen in his eyes before but never quite this much. He pulled her to him and captured her lips in a passionate kiss, holding her tightly against him. When they separated, he pulled her into a hug, pressing his face into her shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered to her, repeating it over and over. She leaned back to kiss his forehead and to cup his face.

“I love you too.”

#how bout a dance #hbad part 13 #ITS THE END IM CRINE #ella i owe u my life #ajay x mc #hssca fanfic #hssca fic #choices fanfic #ajay bhandari #my fanfic #hbad

55 notes · View notes

dxmichelle · 6 years ago

Text

Ask Meme turned Headcanon Post.

So I got inspired by that ask meme I reblogged the other day, and rather than wait for nobody someone to send one in, I’ll just Nerdship most of the meme and call it a headcanon post.

Although tumblr didn’t want to save my initial finished draft, so I copped out on redoing some of the answers. Oh well. Cross your fingers that the post didn’t “de-format” because I’m not editing this monstrosity again.

Here goes the longest post ever. Under the cut because I’m not gonna make anyone scroll through a mile-long post to get to the rest of their dash.

- How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any daily rituals?

Hermione usually has to drag Seto from his office to go to bed on time. Sometimes she’ll cuddle up against him, but that’s mostly it. Seto is a light sleeper and doesn’t get enough rest as it is, so unless they were cuddling or something before they nodded off, she won’t in the middle of the night in fear it’ll wake him up.

Waking up though is a different story. If it’s the weekend and he technically doesn’t have to go into work, she’ll try to keep him in bed until a reasonable hour. He gets up ridiculously early no matter what day it is, and it’s usually before she’s even awake. She’ll wake up to find his side of the bed already empty (and made up no less), and he’s already downstairs, dressed, and consumed two cups of coffee.

- How’s their team work? Do they share well? They definitely share Kaiba Corp sweaters. And by share, she hoards them and claims them as her own.

- Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection? They were incredibly private about it at first. Seto could care less what others thought of him, but Hermione worried how her friends (especially Ron) would react to them being together. Thankfully, by the time they came clean to everyone important about it, enough time had passed that Ron had gotten over his jealousy (no thanks to Ginny literally knocking sense over his head). Other than friends and family though, they keep PDA minimal. It didn’t stop the media from catching wind of it and going nuts though.

- First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight? Definitely not love at first sight.

Hermione had of course read articles about him before they met, but she didn’t hang on his every word and movement like the Krum fangirls during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She found him fairly cold and distant in comparison to Yugi and Ryou, who were also staying at the Burrow at the time. She was more so impressed by his interest in absorbing the textbooks than just hanging around teaching Harry and Ron the basics of Duel Monsters.

Seto didn’t think much of Hermione or her friends at first, though he was recovering from a combination of jet-lag and an attack on his mind at the same time. When he was much more cognizant, he thought them (Harry mostly) were rather nosy into his business. He also couldn’t wrap around why someone as level-headed as Hermione chose to stick around with them since at times they acted as polar opposites. In time, he appreciated the fact that she didn’t fawn over him like a lovesick puppy, was merely trying to help, and didn’t put up with any of his nonsense.

- Nicknames? Pet names? Any in-jokes? Definitely not. Seto hates them.

- Any tasks that are always left to one person? Not really.

- What annoys them the most about their partner? Would they change it if they could? She can’t stand that he puts his work before his health. He’s slowly getting better, but it’s a work in progress. He can’t stand that every time she gets on his case because he’s a workaholic, she’s in the right for worrying about him. And he hates losing.

- What do the like best about their partner? He loves that she’s not afraid to call him out on his BS - usually only Mokuba and Roland are brave enough to do that. She loves all of the subtle little things he does, because while he’s coming a long way in keeping any sort of relationship, being an open romantic is not one of them.

- Do they discuss big issues? Religion? Marriage? Children? Death?

They’ve discussed marriage before, and some of the technicalities that come with it - like would they settle in one country or bounce from place to place as their jobs demand it.

Seto is practically an atheist so they really don’t practice any religion.

They’ve only just gotten engaged, so they really haven’t discussed children at all. After his terrible experiences with his father-figures, he worries about fatherhood, but he knows Hermione would probably want kids someday.

And after fighting in the war, Hermione is still shaken a bit by losing so many friends and refuses to talk about death.

- Who drives? Cooks? Does the handiwork? Cleans? Pays the bills? Handles the public?

Neither of them drive, though Seto has a driver’s license. Seto has his driver, and Hermione either takes a cab or apparates if she’s at home in the UK, depending if she’s around Muggles or not.

When they’re alone, both of them cook. It’s a secret to most people that Seto does in fact know how to prepare food, he normally just doesn’t have the time for it. Hermione does it more often than he does though.

Depending on work that needs done, Seto takes care of it, or hires someone to get the work done.

They pay their own bills (something else Seto loves about her - she’s not using him for his money).

They both are pretty busy with their work. There’s a cleaning lady that tends to the Kaiba Mansion, and Hermione uses magic to clean her home.

The Wizards don’t pay too much attention to them. Muggle press on the other hand is another story. Seto handles all of their public matters, and it’s considered a bonus if he has to threaten a few tabloids in the process.

- Do they celebrate holidays? Anniversaries?

The Kaibas didn’t really celebrate a whole lot of holidays beforehand, but Hermione enjoys Christmas (and so does Mokuba), so there’s that. Birthdays too, although Seto prefers to pretend his doesn’t exist. Seto and Hermione also do something for their relationship anniversary, which is transitioning into their engagement anniversary.

They also meet up with Yugi on the anniversary of the Pharaoh and Set’s passing back into the Afterlife. They make the journey each year to Egypt and pay a visit to the Tablet of the Pharaoh’s Memories.

Every May, they return to Scotland for the remembrance of the Battle of Hogwarts. The Weasleys insist they stay with them, and it’s essentially a week of catching up and paying respects to all of their lost friends and family.

- Is there a wedding? What was the proposal like? Any kind of honeymoon?

To be fair, everything about their wedding is going to be part of a separate headcanon post, so...skip!

- What do they do for fun? Do they have a favorite activity or do they like to switch things up? Ironically, one of their favorite things to do for fun is pick up the tabloids that are written about them and laugh at how wrong they are. It’s a running joke to see how many times they write about their relationship being in trouble because Seto is caught unsmiling in a photograph.

- Anything they both dread? Public engagements.

- How adventurous are they? Honestly? Not very. They’re both barely 21 years old and have had enough shenanigans happen in their lives to last two lifetimes. A little quiet in their lives is definitely welcome.

- Do they keep secrets? Lie? Cheat? Cheat? Never. Hermione is much more open and forward than Seto, but he doesn’t lie. He just withholds information, moreso because it’s something personal and private and he’s not used to being upfront about his emotions, even to her. Again, their relationship is a work of progression for him.

- What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other?

He usually plans dates of interest to her. Sometimes they’ll have dinner out somewhere, or do something simple like visiting a museum or that new bookstore down the street. He just enjoys seeing her happy. Other times they’ll just stay in, cuddle on the couch and get absorbed in a book. Sometimes she’ll read to him.

They weren’t sure exactly when they became a couple because the lines blurred somewhere during the Wizarding War, but it had been at least for a year since then.

Breaks weren’t all that difficult since she was working for the British Ministry of Magic and he returned to Japan. He built her a cell phone so they could keep in touch, and they visited each other as often as work would allow.

- What do they fight about? What are their arguments like? How do they make up? A lot of their arguments are about him not taking care of himself. Or how he’s constantly under the worry that something terrible will happen to her that he was unable to prevent, stemming from Mokuba’s kidnappings during Duelist Kingdom and Battle City. She has to constantly remind him that she’s no fragile princess and can take care of herself. The most explosive they ever got turned into a wand fight in his home office and after she finished kicking his ass, he admitted he was wrong, and that was enough for her.

- What does their home look like? Their room? Neither of them hoard a ton of stuff.

Hermione’s apartment(s) - one in the UK, one in Japan - are a blend of magical and conventional Muggle decoration. She has photographs of her family and friends on the walls and mementos of her Hogwarts days scattered around. One room in each is full of nothing but books.

For the most part, Seto stays in the Kaiba Mansion. Most of the decoration around are pictures of Mokuba and his achievements growing up (Seto hates having his picture taken). He does have their engagement photograph on the desk in both his home and work office, next to Mokuba’s current school photo.

They’re both neat freaks, so the bedroom(s) are clean. Seto usually doesn’t sleep unless the room is pure dark, so when he stays in the UK (at least in the early days of their relationship), he tends to be in a hotel with blackout curtains because Hermione actually likes light in her room, but she’ll concede to how he keeps his space when she stays at the mansion. Seto offered her a guest room (one that actually welcomes natural sunlight), but she prefers to stay in his.

- Do they share any interests or hobbies? Not a whole lot. Hermione has her books, and Seto has Duel Monsters, though he doesn’t play nearly as much as he used to. Occasionally, she’ll find him in his card room just looking through stacks of cards.

- Does their work ever interfere with the relationship? Other than Seto not knowing when to stop? Not really. They both know that their jobs are important to each other, and respect and support each other’s chosen line of work.

- How much time do they spend together? Do they share their feelings, or hold things in?

When they’re not working, they don’t cling to each other 24/7. They each respect that they have lives to live, and most of the time in the early days, they were continents apart. Then, when they were both in town together, they were together quite a bit.

Hermione is a master of knowing when Seto is keeping something bottled up. Tension radiates off him in waves. She’s one of the few people that can get him to vent out his frustration without feeling the need to flee the scene right afterwards.

- How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families?

Ron came to the conclusion during the War that his continued jealousy over Hermione’s choice in friendships had cost him. That wasn’t to say Hermione didn’t play the same jealousy game with him at school, but she was the one who got over it first and moved on. Was he still a little upset that she chose someone of fame and reputation over him? Sure. But he also acknowledged that she had waited for him to essentially man up for a very long time, and he hadn’t. It took a great deal of reflection, but after he admitted to Hermione that he was glad she found someone that genuinely made her happy, their friendship improved tenfold.

Harry was surprised, knowing that she had been crushing on Ron for the greater portion of their time at Hogwarts. At the same time though, he was very supportive of her, knowing what certain events on the Horcrux Hunt had done to her, and caused both she and Seto to get closer to each other. He felt better once Ron confided in him how okay he was with it.

Ginny was all for it. She had to practically beat her mother over the head with sense in the beginning though, because she knew Ron had feelings for her, and this was like the Rita Skeeter love triangle article between Harry, Hermione, and Krum all over again.

Yugi was there to witness their relationship progress, but his friends weren’t, and they still couldn’t believe that of all people, Seto managed to get involved in a romantic relationship before any of them.

Mokuba is all for it. He witnessed her genuinely caring for Seto during [REDACTED PLOT SPOILERS]. Not even Yugi or his friends showed that much concern when they were stuck in the middle of a magical crisis. He didn’t care that they weren’t even in a relationship at that time, but he immediately unofficially added her to the family. Having her officially added to the family was an added bonus.

- What are their vacations like? Taking a break from work? Blasphemy!

Seto hasn’t taken vacations, ever! So it’s usually wherever Hermione wants to go. They usually go either to places neither have been to, or some secluded space where it’s literally just them.

Phones are either left behind, or off the majority of the time. If anyone from KC that wasn’t Roland tried to get in contact while they were away together, and it was over something petty, they were put on thin ice, and fast. Seto would have just straight up fired them, but Hermione manages a good portion of his impulse control.

Since she knows he lets her pick what they do, she tries to plan a trip that will get him to unwind as much as possible. No rushing, just relaxation. Their first vacation following their engagement announcement was to tour Norway and see the Northern Lights.

- How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness? With everything that’s happened to them? Assuming they aren’t in public, Hermione could probably magically deal with minor injuries, and after all of the kidnappings and attempted murder in his life, Seto is fairly-well equipped to handle disasters. But sickness? That’s a whole different game. Hermione is level-headed enough to know when to stay home and rest if she’s ill. After all, there isn’t always a potion handy to get rid of her cold. Seto? He’ll ignore it, go to work and overexert himself until he passes out at his desk. Both Hermione and Mokuba have to gang up on him and force him to stay in bed.

- Could they manage a long distance relationship? They already do!

- What kind of presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions? Usually only for birthdays or Christmas, and most of the time it’s something small and meaningful for the both of them.

- Do they have any pets? Crookshanks stayed at the Burrow during their run around the countryside, and then stayed at home with Hermione’s parents following the War. She takes him with her whenever she travels to and from Japan. Seto initially wasn’t keen on having a cat in the mansion, but Mokuba took a huge liking to him, and that was it. Despite all of the cat furniture that Hermione immediately bought for him in the mansion, Crookshanks always chose to sleep in Mokuba’s room, to the younger Kaiba’s immediate delight.

- How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross? With Hermione being added into the Kaiba family, if she were in serious trouble, he would burn the world for her. If the roles were reversed? Hermione would gather her friends and any newfound Muggle resources and do the same, only it would probably end up a bit more discreet.

- What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do? Physical intimacy is something Seto’s still uncomfortable with. Hermione’s not rushing him, so while they do sleep together, it doesn’t go any further than cuddles.

- Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first? When did they realize they were in love? Hermione definitely started it. Seto was legit stunned while his brain processed what had happened. No one had ever shown him any amount of true care or concern before that wasn’t Mokuba, so this was something unfamiliar that needed figured out.

- Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to? During one of his visits to the UK, they toured Tresco Island. It was so peaceful and relaxing there that they went back to the gardens there for their engagement photos.

- Are they party-goers? What are they like when they’re drunk? Does it happen often? Nope, and they don’t really drink either.

- Do they talk often? What about? He built her a custom phone so they could keep in better contact when they were apart. They’d call each other every few days and talk about anything and everything going on, from the progress on the new duel disks to how reforming the new Ministry of Magic was going.

- Are the comfortable with each other? Anything they have to have their privacy for? Seto’s physical and mental scars are still a touchy subject. In the beginning, he wouldn’t dress in front of her in fear she’d see and then ask about them.

- Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets? Overall? Within their own lines of work, they’re trying to make lives better for all, whether they be house elves or other minority species living in wizarding society, or improving the lives of orphans and underprivileged kids.

#michelle's headcanons #nerdshipping #seto kaiba #hermione granger #crossover au #yugioh #hp

3 notes · View notes

alphacrone · 7 years ago

Text

in which jack does not, in fact, go into the NHL

AN: the sequel to this piece. TW: Suicidal thoughts, career changes, hard conversations.

When the confetti rained down in the other team’s colors, Jack felt a cold wave of numbness wash over him.

I don’t want to be alive anymore, he thought, chest tightening with shame and fear. I want to die.

A pause. A breath.

Oh.

“Holy fuck,” Shitty said, staring out over the ice. “You know what? You’re gonna be back here in, like, a few months, huh?”

Jack shrugged, scrolling through his preliminary shots to test the lighting. “I guess so...I haven’t actually signed yet.”

Shitty snorted, hand on his hip. “Jack, surprise me and don’t join the NHL. Surprise me and do, like, competitive fucking horticulture.”

Before Jack could respond, another voice from behind them called, “Hey, y’all!”

“Oh.” Jack turned, fighting the urge to smile. “Hey, Bittle.”

Bittle and Shitty chatted for a moment about the oddness of never playing with Samwell again. Jack took a few more shots of the ice, trying not to think of the cute way Bittle’s grown-out playoffs hair curled around his ears.

“-mega weird,” Shitty said, looking sad.

And it was weird. Mega weird. Jack had never played with a team quite like Samwell and he knew that he never would again. Shitty would move onto law school and pursuing his career, and Jack would stay here, chasing the high of his first goal, never quite finding that sense of purpose again. It made him too sad, so Jack cleared his throat and said, “It’s weird, but we can’t think of it as our last game. We’ve made it this far by playing in the moment. We’ll leave everything on the ice because that’s what we do. It’s one more game.” He felt his throat tightening, felt Bittle’s eyes on him. “Just one more.”

And it was. For whatever reason, Jack skated out onto the ice that evening with the overwhelming sense that this would be his last game ever.

As soon as he could slip away, Jack did. He shed his jersey and skates like a snake rutting against rocks to pull off its old skin and stumbled to a loading bay. It was cold and dark and Jack sat there, shaking, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to feel this way anymore.

It was just a game, he could hear his mother whisper.

<<You’ll get ‘em next time,>> his father said.

Jack could feel their hands on his back, in his hair, and the phantom touches crawled across his skin like invisible roaches. He squirmed and tensed and tried not to cry out in horror. His hands prickled and his lips went numb and a panic attack was approaching quickly-

He heard the footsteps a moment too late, and then two warm arms were around him, squeezing tight.

Jack knew without looking it was Bittle. Of course it was Bittle.

The pins and needles dancing across his body calmed as Jack leaned into Bittle’s embrace. He wanted to be wrapped up in that warmth, pressed under the solidness of Bittle’s body. Shitty would surely offer to cuddle him tonight, but Jack wanted Bittle, wanted Bittle’s kind hands and tentative smiles and honey-rich laughter.

Around them, muffled by the walls and the blood pounding in Jack’s ears, the sounds of celebration carried through the halls. Bittle tightened his embrace, burying his face in Jack’s shoulder, and Jack could feel him shaking. He was crying, too.

Was he crying for the loss or for Jack?

Did it really matter, either way?

Jack was so tired when he logged onto Samwell’s website that he could barely read the words on the screen.

Samwell University Graduate Programs jumped out at him in big, red letters. He’d known, technically, that Samwell had to have a few in order to be designated a university and not simply a college, but the programs were small and the grad students blended in with everyone else. Jack thought one of his TAs might’ve been in the Education program, but she could’ve just been a senior looking for extra work.

“What’s the harm in applying?” He murmured to himself. “You can always turn down an offer, if you even get one.”

At the bottom of the screen, after paragraphs upon paragraphs exalting the school’s reputation and course catalogue, sat a small due date: February 26

That was just a few weeks away. And Jack was in the middle of the season, he had a draft of his thesis due soon, he had meetings with GMs and his agent and-

There was a quiet knock at his door. “Jack, you awake?”

Jack was always astonished at how calm he felt around Bittle these days. Even just the sound of his voice made Jack feel like everything wasn’t too much to handle, if he just kept pushing forward. “Come in,” he called, setting his laptop to the side.

Bittle pushed the door open slowly, peeking in as if he’d misheard Jack. In his hand was a plate of food--frozen chicken tenders and freshly cooked home fries, Jack’s favorite. “You weren’t at team dinner, so I thought you might be hungry,” he said, smiling worriedly. “It’s okay if you’re not- oh, you probably had a meeting or a date or something, I can just put this in the fridge for later-”

“Bittle.” Jack stood and plucked the plate from his hand. “Thank you.”

Bittle shrugged, smile brightening. “Can’t let my captain starve.”

Jack laughed and shook his head, reaching out to ruffle Bittle’s hair in the way that always annoyed him. “Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he chirped, voice teasing but intent real. Jack really didn’t know what he’d do without Bittle’s cooking, or his chirping, or his sunny, wonderful smile. His life would certainly be less bright, that was for sure.

“Stop,” Bitty whined, slapping at Jack’s hand. “See if I ever cook for you again.”

“Thanks for dinner,” Jack said, frowning slightly as Bittle yawned. “Now go to bed. Captain’s orders.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bittle rolled his eyes but grinned. “One day you won’t get to boss me around anymore.”

“But that’s not today,” Jack retorted. “Night, Bits.”

Bittle smiled and waved. “Night, Jack.”

Jack waited until Bittle’s door closed with a small click, then he set down the food and grabbed his laptop again, looking at the Samwell website again with a renewed determination.

Just in case, he thought. Just in case.

“It’s a sign,” Jack murmured, voice croaking and harsh in the relative silence of the loading bay. “To move on.”

Bittle looked up at him, confused. “Move on?”

Jack nodded, swallowing back another round of tears. “From hockey.”

“You didn’t lose this game by yourself,” Bittle said quickly, and Jack wondered if he’d rehearsed that line in his head while they’d been sitting here. “We’re a team.”

“Bittle, you know the first thing I thought after that game?” Jack looked down at his hands, flopped uselessly on his lap and trembling even now. “I wanted to die. I wanted to kill myself- over what? Over- over a game?” He hung his head, too ashamed to see Bittle’s reaction. “I can’t...I think going pro would be suicide. I don’t think I’d survive it.”

“Oh.” There was a long, tense, horrible moment, and then two rough hands cupped Jack’s face, forcing him to look up. “Okay.”

There were tears in Bittle’s eyes now, tears for Jack, tears for it all. He leaned his forehead against Jack’s, their noses bumping gently.

“Okay,” he said again, clearly at a loss for words. Jack never thought he’d live to see that day.

“I don’t think I should be alone tonight,” Jack admitted, the warmth of Bittle’s hands soaking into the chilled skin of his face. “Will you-? Would you-?”

“Of course,” Bittle said, nodding. “Always, Jack.”

Always. That was a word Jack had heard before. We’ll always play together, Zimms, drifted through his mind. <<You’ll always be able to go back to the sport.>>

I’ll always want to be in the NHL.

But this time, coming from Bittle, Jack actually believed it.

He ignored just how much he wanted an always with Bittle. There would be time to think about that later.

Calling his father two days after Frozen Four was the scariest thing Jack had ever done.

He had called the morning after, of course, to assure his mother and father he was alright, wasn’t upset, wasn’t dead. But he’d thought about it, now, thought about leaving hockey with a clear head. His heart ached at the thought of never playing again, never playing professionally, but cold dread washed over him at the thought of signing anywhere and, well- his therapist had agreed. It was time he started listening to his emotions. It was time he did something for his health instead of his dream.

An investment for the future, he’d heard himself describe to her. Ensuring my future, really.

With one last breath for courage, Jack hit his father’s contact and waited as it dialed. The phone only rang twice before his father answered, sounding a bit out of breath, like he’d run to accept the call.

<<Hello? Jack, is everything okay?>>

Jack cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. <<Yeah, Papa, everything’s fine. I, um...I wanted to let you know…>>

There was a sigh from the other side of the line. <<Have you decided where you’re signing? Jack, do not worry about my reaction, I will be proud of you no matter what team you choose. It’s your decision, not mine.>>

<<Right,>> Jack said, clenching and unclenching his free hand. <<About that. I don’t want to sign anywhere.>>

There was a silence from the other line that nearly sent Jack into a panic attack. Then, very quietly, his father asked, <<Is this because you lost Nationals?>>

It was better than the anger he’d imagined, the disgust at years and money and dreams wasted. <<Yes,>> Jack admitted, because there was no point in lying. <<But, Papa, it’s not- it’s not what you->>

<<Jack, you’ve faced losses before. In a week you’ll feel better and regret rejecting any of the offers. Let me get your mother, she’s always been better at talking about this sort of thing->>

<<I wanted to kill myself after Nationals,>> Jack said bluntly, sitting down on his bed. <<I can’t keep feeling this way. I can’t keep putting all of myself into this game. It’s going to be the death of me.>>

Jack could hear his father’s sharp intake of breath, then the muttered, “I’m getting your mother on the line.”

This wasn’t what Jack wanted, but it was what he’d expected. They were going to make an ordeal out of this, maybe come down to have a family therapy session, but at least they didn’t sound mad. Disappointment from them was something he’d been learning to live with from early childhood; he’d make it through this.

“Jack?”

Maman sounded frazzled, something that was always disconcerting coming from her. Jack swallowed back his fears and said, “Dad’s overreacting.”

“I am not,” he could hear Papa mutter in the background.

“Jack, sweetheart, you’ve wanted to play hockey since before you could walk,” his mother said placatingly. “You can understand why we’re...surprised.”

“I thought the therapy was working,” Papa said, a little harsher than Jack thought he’d intended. “Now he’s suicidal. We need to come down there-”

“And we will,” Maman said, cutting him off. “But, Jack, honey, is this...common? You never mentioned this sort of thing in…”

Rehab was the unspoken word in his family, the one they never quite could spit out. Jack wondered if they’d even told people that’s where he was, or if they’d skirted around that like they did everything else.

“Yes,” Jack said sharply. “Too common. I try to talk it out in therapy but...I think I want to live a normal life. I applied to one of Samwell’s grad programs, I should be hearing back soon. And if I don’t get in there, I’ve been talking to my advisor-”

“Grad school?” Papa sounded surprised. “You...what degree?”

“Business,” Jack said, feeling his face heat up. Maybe it was a stupid decision, a stupid degree, but surely his parents wouldn’t say that out loud-

“Why?” Maman asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I…” Jack shrugged, forgetting his parents couldn’t see him. “I think I’d be good at management, of any sort. Bittle and I have...joked about me becoming his manager when he’s famous, but I...I like that idea. I’m organized, I like strategy and planning and overseeing a team. I...think it would be a good choice for me.”

“Oh, Jack.” There was a sniffle on the other line, and some muttering Jack couldn’t make out. “Oh, honey, that sounds great.”

There would be the talk about money, probably, the wasting of it up until now and the ongoing tuition. There would be a group therapy session in the next week or so, where Jack would be forced to admit his weaknesses to his father. There would be ugly news articles and upset uncles and prying questions. But right now, they were okay with it, and Jack let himself breathe.

“So...Bittle, eh?” Papa asked, and Jack wondered if they’d believe he had to get to class at 8 pm on a Sunday.

When they got back to campus that night, Jack let Bittle pull him away from the rest of the team. They took the long way home, meandering along the river like they’d done a hundred times before. Jack’s hand bumped against Bittle’s a few times, but neither reached out. It wasn’t the time for that, Jack knew.

When they reached the Haus, it was dark and silent. Jack could hear Lardo’s voice faintly coming from Shitty’s room, and the usual thundering shakes coming from the attic as two elephant-sized dudes wandered around, but other than that, it was unnervingly quiet. Bittle ushered Jack into his room, dropping his bag at the foot of Jack’s bed.

“So I can sleep in the armchair, if you want,” Bittle said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Or…”

Jack slumped down onto his bed and patted the space next to him. Bittle smiled wearily and crawled onto the bed. They’d changed into sweats after the game instead of their game-day suits -- the coaches looked the other day, too sad themselves to tell the boys any different -- so neither felt the need to change or brush their teeth or anything. Jack kicked his shoes off; Bittle slowly untied his and set them down on the floor.

“Night, Bittle,” Jack said softly, laying his head down on the pillow.

“Night, Jack,” Bittle whispered, giving Jack one last sad smile.

“And...thanks,” Jack added. “For this. For everything.”

“‘Course,” Bittle said, reaching out to squeeze Jack’s hand “Always.”

For the first time in a while, Jack was starting to like the sound of that.

“You’re not signing? Anywhere?”

Jack looked up at Shitty and didn’t see any trace of judgement or anger in his face. Just concern, just like Bittle.

“No,” Jack said, toying with the edge of his comforter. “I’m going into competitive horticulture.”

“Fucking hell, Jack,” Shitty laughed, smacking a hand to his bare stomach. “You really got me for a second.”

“I’m not signing, for real,” Jack said, looking down at his knees. “But, uh. I’m considering grad school.”

“What?” Shitty flopped down onto the bed next to Jack, half in his lap. “Where? Why? When?”

“Who? How?” Jack chirped, letting Shitty shove his head onto Jack’s shoulder.

“I’m serious, give me the deets,” Shitty said. “You’re just- not playing hockey? What programs have you applied to? Brah-” Shitty sat up, grabbing Jack’s shoulders. “Please tell me you’re not going back to Canada. Please.”

Jack chuckled and wrestled Shitty back down next to him. He pretended to be annoyed as Shitty wrapped his arms and legs around him, but Jack was secretly happy about it. “No, I, euh. I got accepted to Samwell’s business program-”

“Business?” Shitty asked, practically climbing onto Jack’s lap, half-straddling him. “Jack, as fine as your ass looks in dress pants, you don’t strike me as the CEO-type. You’re not evil enough.”

Jack smirked at him. “I could say the same about you and being a lawyer.”

“Touché, you beautiful fucker,” Shitty said, settling back down again. “Brah, you’re gonna be here? In Samwell? That’s fucking ‘swawesome. What’re you gonna do with a business degree? Gonna become an agent or something? Start a business?”

“I’m not sure,” Jack said quietly. “Bittle and I have talked about...I dunno. Opening his bakery, maybe, but I think he’s made for bigger things. Maybe I could become his manager, help him make his blog into a career or something.”

“You and Bits would be the ‘swawesomest team,” Shitty said with a grin. “He’d charm all your investors, and you’d keep him in line. Amazing.”

“Ha, yeah.” Jack fell into silence, unsure of what else to say. Shitty nuzzled his head up against Jack’s chin, just to elicit a laugh.

“You know we love you no matter what, right?” Shitty asked, more quiet than Jack had ever heard him. “Me, the team, your family...we just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah.” Jack swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. “Yeah. Thanks, Shits.”

“Love you, brother,” Shitty whispered. “Love you to the moon and back.”

Jack smiled and ran a hand through Shitty’s hair. “Love you, too.”

They didn’t cuddle.

Jack hadn’t exactly expected that sort of comfort Bittle--he wasn’t Shitty--but he did have to push down the urge to reach over and pull Bittle to him.

There was something to be about sharing a bed with someone. There was comfort in the warmth Bittle radiated, in the sound of his breathing, the faint movements of the bed as he shifted and settled. Jack watched him through all of this, watched the brush of his eyelashes on his cheeks, watched the perpetual smile of his lips fade into a slight part.

One of Bittle’s hands rested on the mattress between them, in that no-homo no-man’s-land. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Jack slowly reached out to take it in his own.

Bittle’s eyes opened slowly, halfway, and he smiled, tightening his grip on Jack’s fingers. That smile melted the tension from Jack’s shoulders and the rough warmth of Bittle’s hand was all that filled his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

When they woke in the morning, they were still holding hands.

[READ PART 3]

[My writing tag]

[My online novel, The Discourt Knife]

#anna writes things #check please!#omgcp fic #au #cruel jam empire au

796 notes · View notes

delenaciamacco · 5 years ago

Photo

15 Thanksgiving Fun Facts You'll Want To Share On Turkey Day

Presented to you by DeLena Ciamacco

Thanksgiving Day is mainly comprised of three activities: spending time with the family, watching football, and eating a hearty meal of turkey. But while you wait for the turkey to be done cooking and for the football game to return from commercial, you’ll want to do more than scroll through Instagram. These Thanksgiving Day fun facts will keep the conversation going, and you may just teach your loved ones a thing or two about the national holiday. Here are interesting bits to share throughout the day

1. Historians have no record of turkey being eaten at the first Thanksgiving.

The first Thanksgiving Day feast happened in 1621 with three whole days dedicated to the celebration. Although turkey was plentiful in the region and a common food source, it's likely that other "fowling" was served for the occasion, and the well-known bird wasn’t actually the star of the festivities. Instead, "ducks, geese and swans" are believed to have been served to the English settlers and Native Americans.

2. Benjamin Franklin wished the turkey was the national bird.

In a letter to his daughter, Benjamin Franklin wrote, "For my own part I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen the Representative of our Country...For the Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird." And although Franklin didn’t have his wish granted, his letter inspired a song performed in 1776, the Tony-winning musical about the drafting of the Declaration of Independence.

3. The first Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade had Central Park Zoo animals.

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was originally called the "Macy's Christmas Parade" to kick off the holiday shopping season, according to AM New York. Held in 1924, the first parade "included a menagerie of circus mainstays, including monkeys, bears, camels, and elephants, all borrowed from the Central Park Zoo," instead of the traditional character balloons.

4. Snoopy has made the most appearances in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Fourty-four years after the first Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, Snoopy made his debut in 1968 as a balloon. Throughout the years, the beagle has had a total of seven balloons, making 39 appearances "on and off through 2015" before he was replaced with Charlie Brown in 2016.

5. Sarah Josepha Hale was actually the "Mother of Thanksgiving."

Famously known for writing "Mary Had a Little Lamb," Sarah J. Hale was a 19th-century writer and editor who was nicknamed the Mother (or Godmother) of Thanksgiving. The named seemed fitting after she wrote a letter to President Abraham Lincoln and Secretary of State William Seward in 1863, calling for the declaration of Thanksgiving as a national holiday. Biography writes, "[Lincoln] followed suit, ultimately leading to a fixed time of annual celebration over the years."

6. The first professional Thanksgiving Day football game was played 1920.

Almost a century ago, Thanksgiving Day fell on November 25 and there were six football games played, according to the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Non-league teams like Elyria Athletics went up against league teams counted in standings. Football fans, whip these stats out from the results of that year's games and you will WIN at table talk:

Akron Pros (7) vs. Canton Bulldogs (0)

Decatur Staleys (6) vs. Chicago Tigers (0)

Elyria (OH) Athletics (0) vs. Columbus Panhandles (0)

Dayton Triangles (28) vs. Detroit Heralds (0)

Chicago Boosters (27) vs. Hammond Pros (0)

All-Tonawanda (NY) (14) vs. Rochester Jeffersons (3)

7. Thanksgiving was once celebrated on the third Thursday in November.

Decades after President Lincoln officially declared Thanksgiving a national holiday, President Roosevelt wanted to mix up the holiday by moving it up to the third Thursday in November, instead of the fourth. By doing this, there were seven more shopping days added in 1939, but it also upset football coaches whose weekend Thanksgiving games were switched to regular weekday games, and not to mention, calendar-printers had incorrect dates.

8. "Jingle Bells" was originally a Thanksgiving Day song.

Before becoming a Christmas anthem, Jingle Bells was an 1857 song titled "One Horse Open Sleigh," and its composer, James Pierpont, intended it to be a Thanksgiving Day song. But it became so popular around December 25 that in 1859 the title was changed to "Jingle Bells" and the rest is history!

9. Butterball has had a Turkey Talk-Line open for over 35 years.

Believe it or not, Butterball has been answering more than 100,000 turkey-related questions since 1981. If you find yourself with a million questions and Google is too overwhelming, reach for the phone because the Turkey Talk-Line is real and there to help you. Open to U.S. and Canada homes every November to December, the unique hotline is also available to take questions through online chat and email, plus, there are Spanish-speaking experts!

10. Each year, there are about 46 million turkeys cooked.

Thanksgiving Day and turkey go hand-in-hand, so this number shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Although not all Americans celebrate the holiday, there are still millions of families gathering around the table to eat one of the most special meals of the year—and for those who aren’t satisfied with only one day of it, Christmas is also a popular occasion to cook another turkey.

11. The turkey's tryptophan doesn't actually make you tired.

On Thanksgiving Day, you probably prepare yourself mentally knowing you’ll be tired after eating turkey, but the holiday bird isn’t actually to blame. Instead, the reason you can’t imagine doing else but watching football on the couch is because you over-ate. In fact, Dr. Daniel Barone tells Business Insider it's actually called "postprandial fatigue." Simply put, he says this means "after you've had a big meal your body goes into basically shutdown mode and sleep gets promoted."

12. Most Americans enjoy Thanksgiving leftovers more than the meal itself.

Sure, a home’s atmosphere on Thanksgiving Day is unlike any other: The kitchen bustling with last-minute cooking, the dining table set with the best china, and a football game playing on the TV, but many people actually enjoy leftovers more than the actual meal. So, before heading out for Black Friday shopping, confidently eat your stuffing and mashed potatoes because you won’t be the only one doing so.

13. President George H. W. Bush was the first to pardon a turkey.

In 1989, the 41st president pardoned the first turkey ever after noticing the 50-pound bird looked a little antsy at his official Thanksgiving proclamation. Since then, every president has upheld the tradition and a few of the turkeys have gone on to serve a different purpose. In 2005 and 2009, the birds went to Disneyland and Disney World parks to participate in the annual Thanksgiving parades.

14. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving is known as "Drinksgiving."

The holiday season is a time of celebration, which means toasts upon toasts are made. But before the annual feast begins, the night Thanksgiving has come to be known as the booziest days of the year. Also going by the name, “Black Wednesday,” bars aren’t the only businesses experiencing a boom of this night, but also car-services, like Uber, who offered free rides last year, according to Business Insider.

15. Black Friday, aka the day after Thanksgiving, is the busiest day for plumbers.

Plumbing and drain companies don't really get the Friday after Thanksgiving off seeing as though it's actually one of their busiest days of the year. In fact, it's so busy Roto-Rooter Plumbing and Water Cleaning Company actually calls it...well, "Brown Friday."

Visit my website for additional information about Real Estate and our Central Ohio Market! www.DeLena.com

#turkey day #Happy Thanksgiving #Thanksgiving Day #DeLena Ciamacco

0 notes

blueberrytater · 7 years ago

Text

first

Chapter 1: first you get close, then you get worried…

can’t believe I actually finished a chapter of a fic and i’m posting it?? amazing, huge shoutout to @kentvparsin for reading this over & not blocking me after the millions of texts i sent them

title is from “first” by the Cold War Kids

disclaimer: all emails & numbers in this fic were completely made up by me

read on ao3 here!

When Alexei’s roommate moves out to live with his girlfriend, he quickly finds out that he can’t afford is apartment by himself for very long. So, when he puts an ad out in the paper, his highest expectations are a roommate that leaves him with a messy home but still pays rent on time. What he gets is Kent Parson. Kent emailed him about his ad almost right as he posted it. Now, Alexei isn’t dumb, he likes hockey and he watches it often. He lives in Providence, for god sakes, if he wasn’t into hockey, he’d be run out of town. He heard about Kent’s injury when he was watching ESPN after work one night, he didn’t watch the Aces game the night before but they kept playing replays of Kent’s injury over and over again. Kent though, was back on the ice within a few weeks and Aces management and Kent himself assured everyone that he was fine to play. Then, one night during a Aces v. Kings game, Kent just collapsed on the ice. No one was around him, he was barely on the ice for a minute at the start of the second period. The refs blew the whistle, players and staff rushed over to him. Alexei was on the edge of his seat, waiting to see if Parson got up by himself. With the help of players and trainers, Kent eventually was able to stand up, even if he was using Troy for support the whole time off the ice. It was announced a few weeks later through Aces PR that Kent would be retiring due to an injury. Even though Alexei was never a big Aces fan, he was still crushed for the team and Kent. After the announcement, there was radio silence from Kent on all of his social media, even his cat’s instagram. So when Kent emailed him about his apartment, Alexei was surprised to say the least, mainly because the email he received did not sound like how he thought Kent would:

Kent Parson < [email protected] >

to me:

Alexei-

I saw your ad about needing a roommate. I’m clean, wouldn’t be in your way or anything. I’m capable of giving you rent money for months well in advance. I need a place to stay to try and get back on my feet. I do have a cat, though, so if that is a problem, please let me know. Please contact me by either email or phone, either is fine by me.

Thanks,

Kent Parson

598-2679

[email protected]

Alexei read the email over and over again, he thought that maybe it was a prank, but then again why would it be? It would be a weird prank to pull on someone who has no connection to Parson at all. After a few minutes of thinking, he decided to email back.:

Alexei Mashkov < [email protected] >

to Kent Parson:

Hello Kent!

The cat is no problem, I’m not allergic but is smaller apartment so she might not have a lot of room to run around ((, but if that is no problem, then we can meetup to talk about rent and moving in!

Have good day! ))

Alexei

After sending the email, he debated taking down the ad, but decided to leave it up incase this was just some person messing with others. He closed the tab that had his email open so he wasn’t tempted to keep refreshing it as he was waiting for a response. He opened his school email instead, he had a few parents to email about their students performance in class and decided to get the drafts done now so he can send them out on Monday. Even though many friends and family thought his choice to move to America and become a high school teacher, of all things, was silly and stupid, he still did it. As soon as he got his degree, he moved out to America and got his teaching certificate at the first university that would let him. Alexei moved from state to state, trying to find a high school that would hire him. He eventually found a job at a high school in Providence that would pay him a decent amount for being a first time teacher. He loved teaching and he loved teaching history to his students, he loved when they got interested and asked questions. He loved his job even when he had problem students, like Jeremy from his fifth period class, he never paid attention or handed in his homework. The email he was typing out would be the third one to his parents, this time he’s hoping that they can get together for a parent-teacher conference. Alexei sighed, he finished his emails up pretty quickly, he was lucky that he didn’t have too many problem students. He shut his laptop and stretched, he looked over at the pile of ungraded papers from his senior history class and groaned, he really did not want to touch those yet. He was saved when his phone rang and was able to talk to his mother for a little.

Once he was off the phone, it was nearing late-lunch time, he talked to his mother for longer than he thought but it felt good to talk to her again. Deciding he can’t grade on a empty stomach, he gathers the ingredients for his lunch. As Alexei let his food cook, he checked his phone, scrolling through all his social media. He checked his email too and found a reply from Kent in his inbox:

Kent Parson <[email protected]>

to me:

Alexei-

My cat will be fine, she’s older so she doesn’t run as much as she used to and if she wants to, she’ll find a way. Want to meet up at Bittle’s Bakery on fourth street around 3:30pm? Sorry it’s such short notice, I can work around your schedule.

Let me know,

Kent

Alexei flicks his eyes up to the time on his phone, it was almost two now and Kent sent the email around noon. He quickly typed a reply and hit send:

Alexei Mashkov <[email protected]>

to Kent Parson:

Yes! Works for me, here is my number so we can message faster ))

325-2498

See you soon!

Alexei

He finishes up what was cooking of his lunch and packs it up, he figures he can eat it at another time. He freshens up and changes, Bittle’s Bakery was in center city and would take Alexei about fifteen minutes to walk there, he would drive but it’s a weekend and Alexei would like to save himself some frustration. He tries to clean up the apartment before he leaves, incase Kent wants to come back and see it in person. Alexei gets distracted in cleaning that he doesn’t realize that it’s almost 3:20 and he’s rushing out the door.

It’s about 3:35 by the time he gets to the bakery, he checks his phone seeing that Kent texted him four minutes ago, telling him where he’s sitting. He scans the bakery, it’s pretty crowded, but Alexei was able to spot Kent sitting in the back towards the kitchen and Alexei rushes over to him.

“Hello, sorry I’m late, got distracted cleaning and not realize time. I’m Alexei.” He sits down in the chair across from Kent, giving him a soft smile.

Kent gives him a small smile back, “It’s alright, man. I’m Kent, nice to meet you.” Kent fiddles with his phone in his hand, spinning it and flipping it around different ways while looking around the bakery, like he’s waiting for someone to pop out.

Alexei doesn’t mention it. “So with splitting rent, it will be seven-hundred and fifty each month, is that okay? I’m pay directly to landlord so you give me the money each month.”

Kent nods, “Yeah, that’s fine, what do I have to sign?”

Alexei gives Kent the run down on the forms and things he’ll have to send to the landlord of his apartment. “Do you want to see apartment? Is not far from here.”

Kent shook his head, “Nah it’s alright, you seem like a cool guy and I doubt it’s gross. I got the idea from the pictures you had.” Alexei wasn’t going to argue with him, so he gave Kent the landlord’s name and email. Before he left, he told Kent to call him if he needed help and when he got everything settled. Kent said his thanks and smiled as Alexei left.

About a week later, Kent was moving in the last of his stuff into the apartment. It was a little crazy moving him, since the first thing he did was move his cat in, making sure she was comfortable. Kent didn’t have as much stuff as Alexei thought he would, he had his own mattress and furniture but not many personal items, he figured he would have more being Kent Parson, but Alexei realized you can’t judge someone based off how they appear in the media.

The first night Kent is officially moved in and settled, Alexei tries to make him feel welcome. He asked him if he wanted to get take out with him and watch a movie, but Kent declined, saying he was tired and still had more boxes to unpack in his room. Alexei smiled and told him if he needed help to come get him. Kent retreated to his new room in response, Kit following him and Kent closed the door once Kit was in.

Alexei got take out for himself and graded papers while he ate, he was worried about Kent but it wasn’t his place to, maybe Kent had just wanted to be roommates and didn’t want to be friends with Alexei. His worrying didn’t stop when he was getting ready for bed and heard Kent on the phone, obviously upset and crying to whoever he was on the phone with. Alexei tried to keep to himself and not worry, but it was hard when the next morning, Kent looked like he never went to bed and just gave Alexei a weak smile as he passed his room when he went to the bathroom.

Alexei tried not to worry, but he’s never been very good at it.

#patater #alexei mashkov #kent parson #angst //#but it will eventually be happy!!#eventually #erika writes #first

34 notes · View notes

beanjuice-duh · 8 years ago

Text

Piece of Cake

Warning: ...cussin and waste of food, also unedited(raw draft) a/n: oneshot drabble, jam fluff. Getting those writing juices flowin’ Summary: high school au/ hamilton w/c: 3733

“Why the hell are we here?” Alexander groaned, he ran a hand down his tired face. He started to think back at the series of events that led him here. Where was here? Sitting at a long table for two in a Home Economics class. There were various cooking tools, bowls, a sink and small two burner stove top oven...and there was his partner. The bile began to rise up his throat and threatened to force a gag out of him. He glanced over at the purple bomber jacket wearing, big haired, facial hair on fleek idiot beside him. His partner sported a face of immense disinterest, his eyes on his phone as he scrolled with his thumb.

“Because you’re a fucking idiot who got us kicked out of Creative Writing.” Thomas responded with a hiss, he didn’t look up while he spoke to Alexander, he didn’t want to look at the face of the guy who placed him in this bullshit elective.

Honestly that was not how he remembered it going down at all. What he remembered was signing up for the Creative Writing class with his friends Aaron and Gilbert. His best friend John Laurens wasn’t a fan of writing and took on Aquatics as his elective. Alexander was more of an academic, though he tried his hand in sports. He was fairly good at wrestling but found it hard to maintain the proper weight/height ratio to stay in his class. He decided to follow Aaron in a more relaxed subject, one he knew he was well versed at as well. As for Gilbert...well he was in it because Mr. Washington was teaching the class.

Alexander only expected the best of the best to be there, Angelica Schuyler's little sister Eliza was taking the class, as she did the year before. It was highly recommended after that. Alexander expected James Madison the kid who skipped two full grades to be there, he seemed to enjoy writing as well. What he didn’t expect was Thomas Jefferson to be there. Apparently he was some kid that moved away then moved back or some weird drama. He was popular when he left and even more so when rumors flooded in that he and Angelica were dating.

Not. True. He wasn’t a fan of someone who just waltzed into school like that. Alexander wasn’t popular...he tried and he was popular among his close friends. Most people found him annoying, the kid who got in trouble and still managed to get the grades. Kid who never shut up and pissed off nearly everyone. It took a certain kind of person to put up with him. “Maybe if you didn’t start talking shit I wouldn’t have thrown my book at you.” Alex growled back, remembering clearly that in the middle of his discussion, Thomas had clearly leaned over to Madison. He looked right at Alex and laughed right at him.

Thomas rolled his eyes, still not giving Alex the benefit of meeting his eye contact. “Please, you don’t even know I was talking about you and even if I was, someone who talks as much shit as you should be able to take it.” The dislike was mutual. Thomas was not a fan of popularity in the sense of having people flock him. He liked being admired from afar. Little knew but he was quite awkward around too many people, often leaning on the moral support of his friends like Madison. Alexander threw him off balance. He was boisterous and impossible to ignore, more importantly he brought out an ugly side to Thomas that no one had seen before.

“I can take the shit talking!” Alex yelled, earning a hush from their new elective teacher. Of course, it was bold face lie. Alexander could deal out some of the rudest, wittiest insults but the moment it was directed back at him he flew off the handle. In his mind, he had to have the last word, the last say, the last insult no matter what. He was in the middle of a great discussion when Thomas interrupted him. Sure throwing his book across the room and taking out Madison instead of Thomas was a bad idea. It would have been well worth it if he had hit Thomas instead. “No one told you to return fire…”

“You fucking socked James in the face with your book and gave him a nosebleed.”

“I said I was sorry.” Alex crossed his arms.

“After you complained about how your shot would have been perfect if it wasn’t for his, and I quote, ‘bulbous air brained head’” Alexander smirked to himself, it was a good time to use his word of the day. “Now thanks to you, James is stuck in the nurse’s office and the only other elective I get is Home Ec, stuck with you.”

The fight didn’t go over well with George. Who, as much as he loved Alexander as a student and a person, wanted him to learn a little restraint even when it came to those he had trouble tolerating. Alex felt personally attacked. He was Washington’s favorite, he was the cool new kid that everyone befriended. Then the ‘legend’ Thomas Jefferson, rich, snobby, basketball player comes back and everyone is up in arms. Angelica and Lafayette were apparently his friends first, George missed him since he coached the team. Even Aaron Burr spoke highly of Thomas. It was sickening. “Whatever lets just get this over with.”

The bell rang and Mrs.Adams began instruction they were to make a dish that reminded them of home. The deep sentimentality made Alexander’s stomach churn. He had been through various foster homes, hopscotched around so many times the past was just a blur. That was another internal lie, he purposely tried to keep his past in the past. He looked over at Thomas. He was from the South or something, he remembered hearing that stupid twang in his voice. He probably wanted to make fried chicken or something. They were suppose to work together, other groups already started brainstorming while Thomas started taking out pots from the cabinet.

“What are you doing?” Alex watched as Thomas silently began to maneuver around him.

“I’m going to make my comfort food.” He answered, “Be a doll, and get me some cheese from the fridge.”

“This suppose to be a team thing, we didn’t discuss what we’re making.” Alex ignored his instructions. Thomas rolled his eyes and went to get the items himself. Fine,if that was how he was going to play it. Alexander went to the back and grabbed a large, clear, cylindrical container of ground up coffee.

He returned just as Thomas was filling up a pot with sink water. “What are You doing?”

“I’m going to make my comfort food.” Alexander echoed in a mocking voice, it was hard to mock Thomas’s voice. It was low and rumbly but not at all gritty. It was...smooth and low, like dark chocola--

“We can’t make two different foods, we can only turn in one.” Thomas glared as Alexander popped the container open and started measuring out a few cups of ground coffee. “Coffee isn’t even a fucking food, you dunderhead.”

“Doll, now Dunderhead, what are you fifty?” Thomas was old fashion, his tastes were dated and so was were his insults apparently. “Hm, then I guess whoever finishes first gets to turn in our assignment.” Alex mused watching Thomas’s dark eyes narrow at him. They shared a silent moment, which was rare, nothing but glares and shallow breathing before they broke away and furiously went to cooking. Racing to be the other.

Thomas turned and dumped all of the pasta in the water before it was boiling. Alex went and started practically throwing cups of flour into the bowl with his coffee. A puff of flour rose from his bowl and dusted itself onto Thomas’s jacket sleeve. “Fucking watch it slob.” He tore off his jacket and revealed intensely toned biceps and a tight tshirt that hugged his wide chest. Alexander clenched his jaw unable to repress the small wave of shock. Thomas felt eyes on him and looked down. Alexander was glaring a hole into Thomas ‘s arm. “Take a picture, it lasts longer” He purred.

The shorter student felt a rage. The same violent rage he felt when he heard Thomas laugh at him. That stupid, soft, bell like laugh that was warm and light, completely contradicting what Hamilton assumed his laugh would sound like. With no book to throw and no time to waste, Alex eyed the open bag of flour that was between him and Jefferson. In midmix he elbowed the back and watched it flop over all over Thomas’s side of the table. “Whoops.” Alex smiled, the flour trickled off the side of the table down to Thomas’s fancy oxfords.

His southern attitude shined as he sucked his teeth and rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Thomas kicked off some of the excess flour from his feet and looked over at Alex. He waited until he was measuring cups of milk and just as he began to Thomas nudged his arm causing him to spill out of the bowl and onto himself. “Whoops~”

“You, fuckin’” Alex turned and was met by a flour covered hand smearing the white dust all over his face.

“Good look for you, Hamilton, ever considered wearing makeup to cover up those baby hairs on your chinny-chin-chin?” Thomas smirked, insulting the only thing that kept the strangely rosy, baby faced Hamilton from looking overly feminine. Thomas went back to stirring the pasta now that the water was now in a rolling boil. Hamilton angrily wiped his face, getting only some of the flour off his skin. He looked down at the batter he was making and smirked. “Thomas…” Alexander cooed, sickly sweet. Falsely sweet but it sent a strange sensation down Thomas’s spine. He turned his head cautiously and noticed Alexander was still covered in flour. Ha. He smirked but it started to fade when he tried to read Alex’s expression. It was soft, no smile, cheeks flared. He was slightly disarmed, long enough for Alex to lean forward. Thomas’s nervous and awkward tendencies started to shine as he backed up, slightly gawk like expression in his eyes. Hamilton, confident as always, got so close their chests bumped. And fast as a whip, Thomas’s well maintained facial hair was slapped by Alex. He felt a wet, goop on his face. “I think coffee cake batter is a good shade for you.”

Jefferson frantically shoved Alex aside, his bowl in his hand, as he hogged the sink. Alex lost control of his bowl and his batter went flying all over the floor. Thomas ran out water over his face. He made quick work of the cake mix before it made him break out.

A livid Alexander who’s “hard work” was now splattered on the ground walked over to the sink. He pressed his thumb against the faucet hole and the water pressure exploded as a stream of water aimed at Thomas’s wild, mane like hair. “You missed a spot”

Thomas shook his head, his curls now hung low heavy from being dampened. “So did you!” He grabbed Alexander by the collar and held him up a few inches off the ground. “BOYS” Mrs. Adams glared at them. “I hope you two have your dish done in the next thirteen minutes...or else you will both not only be failed, it will be a trip to Principal King’s office!”

They gulped in unison. Thomas didn’t want to visit the principal, his parents would skin him alive if he got in trouble and risked missing a game. Hamilton couldn’t risk hurting his college bound future with a failing grade… Slowly Thomas placed Alexander down and sighed. “Look lets just do something, anything…”

“Well coffee cake is out of the question.” Alex sighed. Not like he was any good at making cake.

“Ew who puts coffee in a cake?” Thomas wrinkled his nose. “My mac and cheese idea is so much better.” “I forget my partner has the tastebuds of a child.” Alex only ever saw Thomas eat carbs and cheese. His palette was almost as stupid as Thomas’s love for the color purple. His tired eyes darted behind Thomas to the pot on the stove, it was foaming and overflowing behind him. “Yeah i don’t think your dish is going to work out either.”

“Shit!” The southern boy spun around and turned off the stove. The pasta was painfully over cooked, now they were both out of luck. “Crap...now what? We can’t cook something in eleven minutes can we?” He looked at Alex who was rubbing his finger under his chin. He looked deep in thought, pensive, those eyes framed by sleepless bags never really looked tired. They had a bad frame around them, in truth, Alexander’s eyes (in Thomas’s opinion) were wide awake. Intelligent browns that were hyper focused to any and all tasks at hand. Shame, those bags made him look lazy and lackluster. Thomas blushed a bit realizing he had been thinking about Alexander’s eyes. The moment of admiration was fleeting as Alexander turned and started pacing towards the pantry. “Hello? Earth to Hamilton do you have an idea or what?” Jefferson waited but got no response. He groaned and followed behind Alexander as he searched the dry ingredients shelf. “Hamilton, you being quiet is unnerving so speak we have 11 minutes to make something that doesn’t cause food poisoning.”

“No bake Cheesecake.” He muttered. Thomas didn’t catch that, Hamilton turned around holding a box of graham crackers. “We’ll make a no bake cheesecake. I saw it once skimming on Facebook. It was one of those tasty videos.” “You watched a Tasty video?” “No, I skimmed it but I got the gist.” Alex pouted as Thomas facepalmed in front of him. “Look you have cream cheese, we have whipped cream and no time to actually bake anything, you want to fail fine but I’m going to do something about.” He marched off. He didn’t need Thomas’s help. He’d pull both of their asses out of this mess, he was not going to fail a class and ruin his chances in an Ivy league school. He started cleaning some space when suddenly a hand came out and stopped him. Their skins met and Alex felt a jolt so strong he made him flinch back.

Thomas stared down at him, his cheeks slightly red “what can I do?”

How strange, Thomas was being helpful? Subservient? Alex could get use to that look on his face. The awkward, unsure shy look he wore, the blush, not to mention he looked pretty nice with his hair wet and hardly as fluffed up. He was hot when he wasn’t peacocking around. “Grind up the graham crackers, I’ll soften the cream cheese and melt the butter.”

Silence came over them, they worked...well together. Alex found it strange Thomas was silent...then again when Alexander wasn’t around him Thomas seem quiet. After all he was friends with James Madison the sickly and silent type. He didn’t think they had long conversations. They had knowing lookings and that...he envied. He didn’t know anyone that could figure out what was happening in his mind long enough to figure it out. Even his closest friend was lost when it came to what went through his mind. Hamilton watched as Thomas used a rolling pin to bound the crackers as fast and finely as possible. He was...strong. The table shook with his pounding, Alex watched that bicep flex and his heart sputtered like a failing car. It took him a moment to restart his mind, and slowly he went back to working the cream cheese with sugar, whipped cream making a thickened mix.

Once Thomas was done he grabbed a cake tin and walked around Hamilton. “Watch your back.” He whispered in a low voice closer to Hamilton’s face. Alex’s ears started to burn with color and heat. Thomas reached over Alex’s shoulder, his large arm pressing up just a bit against Alex’s face, grabbing the container of melted butter. Without being told? Alex was impressed. He, absentmindedly, leaned into the arm and felt a sudden urge to close his eyes. “Uh…” Thomas slowly retracted his arm a bit and arched his eyebrow at Alex. “Alright then. You should look into sleeping.”

“I don’t sleep.” It wasn’t by choice. Thomas chuckled, soft and not sarcastic, were they getting along? No but at least they weren’t biting each other’s heads of. “I’m sure turning off your mind is near impossible but you should at least try cutting down the caffeine.”

“Are you worried about me, Jefferson?” Alex turned his head and there was a silence. “No.” Hamilton rolled his eyes, “crust is done.” “Thanks.” Alex poured the mix in and popped it into the freezer for the rest of the time they had left. “Well now it's up to the fridge.” “I’ll start praying.” Thomas shook his head. “Oh yes, please pray to the Southern Cake God” A questionable believer like Hamilton could only scoff at him. “I don’t pray for miracles.”Thomas smirked, “I’m praying not to fail.”

Hamilton and Jefferson went back to awkward silence. How strange silence came when they couldn’t fight. As if they only knew how to speak to each other when it was meant to hurt. After a while Thomas spoke again, his eyes on his phone, scrolling. “I wasn’t laughing at you.” Alex had his head down, catching some rest as they waited as long as they could. “Excuse me?” “In Creative Writing, I wasn’t laughing at you.” Thomas had put together why Alex had his outburst. He couldn’t believe that Alexander was so sensitive when it came to his performance but it was the only logical conclusion. “I was showing a video to James.” “So why were you looking at me WHILE you laughed?” “Because I was also paying attention. Some of us can manage two things at once.” Thomas shook his head. “I listen to all your stupid discussions. Insightful or not.” Jefferson shrugged, keeping his eyes down on the screen of his phone. Alex blinked...a small smile formed on his lips. So he was heard. Thomas thought he was insightful? Thomas might have only meant at times but Hamilton knew he was always insightful. And Thomas Jefferson paid attention to him…

Mrs. Adams started making her rounds, Alex pulled the cheesecake out of the fridge and placed it on their table. “Well...mess and your little mishaps aside...this looks promising.” She took a slice and jotted down a grade. She placed a ‘B’ on their sheet with only the comment ‘Next time actually cook something’. “Not my usual, but I’ll take it.” Alex sighed in relief. He sliced a piece for himself and started to dig in. It was theirs after all. He chewed, knowing well he probably shouldn’t, when he felt eyes on him. Instantly he glared at the pair of judgmental black eyes...instead they were disarmingly curious. “Want some?” Thomas silently wrinkled his nose and Alexander could almost read his mind. “Stop being a baby, it's cheese, you like cheese. And it's cake, everyone loves cake.” He shook his head, Thomas pouted a little still silent and somewhat surprised Alex was reading him so easily. “Try it and stop acting like a child. It’s a B grade cake. It won’t kill you.” “It -- “ “It won’t.” He interjected not letting Jefferson finish. He took some on a spoon and started making train noises towards him. “Say ah, baby~” Both of them froze for a moment. Alex swore it was more insulting in his mind...He squeaked when Thomas’s large hand gripped his wrist tightly. He leaned in, keeping Alex’s hand steady and opened his mouth. His full, plush lips wrapped around the tip of the spoon and slowly slid off leaving nothing on it. He chewed, then nodded, licking his lips slowly. Thomas’s eyes were on Alex, while Alex watched Thomas’s slow tongue move around his lips. “Not bad, Alexander.” He nodded, “We make a decent team.” Working with Jefferson wasn’t so bad. Alex would say it was even…

218 notes · View notes

consulting-celiac-in-the-tardis · 5 years ago

Text

11+ Kids and Teens with Celiac Disease Already Doing Seriously Amazing Things

New blog post! If you read this blog regularly, you know that I love applying a positive perspective to life with celiac disease. At times, though, having a chronic illness or needing to follow a gluten free can feel pretty dang hard.

That’s why today’s post is highlighting 11+ kids and teens who are totally kicking booty at life, even with celiac disease! Whether you have a child with celiac you want to feel less alone or just want to read about some amazing members of the younger generations, keep scrolling to discover some pretty inspiring girls and guys.

1. A (Literal) Master Chef

If you’re a fan of the cooking show, Master Chef Junior, you probably already know all about Che Spiotta. Spoiler alert: he’s the winner of the latest season of Master Chef Junior.

According to this interview, the now-thirteen-year-old has still not mastered the art of baking gluten free bread, but he certainly doesn’t let his diet get in the way of enjoying himself in the kitchen. As Che puts it: “I probably started on the stove when I was 3 or 4. I think that’s because I’m gluten free, and at first I didn’t know what I had; there were just lots of foods I couldn’t eat...When I realized I was gluten free, I just kept on cooking. I realized how much fun it is. I love the creativity about it. “

2. 10 and 11-Year-Old Authors

The most impressive part of these stories isn’t that Lillian Bordoni and Kristen Adam respectively published books about celiac disease at ten and eleven years old. What really gets me are motivations behind these girls’ separate projects. Kristen, author of Dear Celiac (available on Amazon), wanted to keep kids with celiac disease from feeling lonely when they were first diagnosed, like Kristen felt. Meanwhile, Lillian reportedly had one of the most extreme forms of celiac disease seen by Children’s Hospital Colorado. So she wrote and illustrated Cecilia the Celiac Superhero (available on Story Jumper) to tell show readers that anyone can thrive with celiac disease as long as “they just all put their family together and try super duper hard.”

3. Hockey Superstar

If you’re a big fan of hockey, you probably already know about Kaapo Kakko, a Finnish hockey player who was the second draft pick for the 2019 NHL. But besides being an amazing hockey player who won three gold medals in the Finnish hockey world, Kakko also has diabetes and celiac disease. And Kakko won’t let either of those conditions get in the way of him dominating the ice.

In fact, when asked about his health struggles, the eighteen-year-old replied, “It’s nothing for me. I got (diagnosed) five years ago. It’s a normal thing for me.”

4. Members of the Celiac Youth Leadership Council in Seattle

Seattle Children's Hospital is doing more than just diagnosing kids with celiac disease; it's also empowering celiac kids and teens to take part in a mostly kid-run outreach and mentor program for people with celiac disease. Besides raising celiac awareness in their community, celiac teens like Elle Penarczyk are running a gluten free food drive for a local food bank and "testing gluten-free products sold in regular bakeries and pizzerias to see if they’re affected by flour in the air." Talk about a hospital - and a group of young celiacs - who are seriously going above and beyond.

5. Twin Authors Heading to College

As the self-named Casey the College Celiac, I obviously love hearing about the new generations of celiacs heading off to college. In particular, I love hearing about new advocates educating others along the way...and Rayna and Hallie Katzman definitely fit both bills.

Via the twins' Facebook page

Before they went off to college, the girls worked with their mother to write and publish a book based on their celiac diagnosis at age 13 called Everybody’s Got Something: My First Year with Celiac Disease (also available on Amazon). According to this interview, the girls wanted to create a book that filled the gap between books about celiac disease for younger kids and for adults, and gave them the information they wish they had at 13.

6. Miss Pinal County

Josephine Taylor didn't let celiac disease or Hashimoto's keep her from winning Miss Pinal County - and she's using her platform to raise some major celiac awareness. In particular, she's been working on making sure that all Arizona high schools have a safe, cross-contamination-free microwave that students with dietary restrictions can use. That way, students with celiac disease or food allergies can still eat in the cafeteria along with everyone else. At least as of this report, Taylor's efforts have paid off in one school district. But I'm sure Taylor's mission is far from over.

7. Taylor Miller from Hale Life

I've been fortunate enough to meet this teen in real life (at the first Gluten Free Teen Summit), and Taylor Miller is as kind in person as he is online. Taylor is the guy behind the super popular gluten free website, Hale Life (formally Gluten Away). Besides being a huge celiac and chronic illness advocate that speaks at tons of different events around America, Taylor also works with gluten free brands on social media marketing, owns a gluten free bakery in Tampa, Florida with his mom, and has started taking college classes. Suffice to say, he's a pretty cool guy!

8. Miss Nebraska Hopeful

Lianna Prill started competing in pageants as a junior in high school and qualified to compete for the spot of Miss Nebraska in 2014. It wasn't until Prill's dad was diagnosed with celiac disease that Prill eventually realized her constant migraines and flu-like symptoms could be symptoms of the same disease. Since going gluten and dairy free, Prill says, “Now I’m a new woman. All that stuff with being sick that I just wanted to forget about was actually part of a plan. I can’t wait to share that story and hopefully save some lives.”

At least as of this Facebook post in 2017, it seems like Prill is still fighting for her crown - but she did come in third place!

9. Celiac Strong Camp Founder

I've loved seeing that, nowadays, there are several celiac camps that occur all over the country. One of these camps, though, actually started out as Sabrina DeVos's Girl Scout project when she was just 16 years old. Nowadays, Sabrina is 21, but her Celiac Strong Camp is still (pun intended) going strong. Her main goal? In Sabrina's words: "I want other kids to experience the joy of having a few of worry free days and create a place where they can just be kids."

10. A Creative Cooking Champion

If you need some inspiration for getting creative in the kitchen, here's another inspirational teen for you to check out! Her name is Maizy Boosin and she beat three other young chefs to become a Chopped Junior Champion. Besides raising celiac awareness in the actual episode by talking about her condition, Boosin also shared plans to donate some of her $10,000 winnings to celiac disease research and education.

11. All of the gluten free and celiac kids you know in your own life!

Of course, we can't forget to celebrate every kid, preteen and teenager who's navigating the usual hurdles of life along with eating gluten free and thriving with a chronic illness. And if you or the inspirational little celiac in your life needs even more young role models to look up to, you can check out Gluten Free Living's list of epic gluten free ambassadors, who range from a young cookbook author donating all her proceeds to celiac research to kids just spreading celiac awareness in their own community.

What I Hope Everyone Knows about Living with Celiac Disease as a Teen

Honestly, this post really hits home for me because I was diagnosed with celiac disease at age 16. In fact, I was diagnosed only a few weeks before my senior year...and less than a month before I was asked out on my first date. So before I even really knew how to take care of and feed myself safely with celiac disease, I already had to navigate the awkward reality of living with celiac disease at an age where 99% of social events revolve around food. And I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. It. Was. (And still is, in grad school). Hard. It was hard to not know what to order while visiting an ice cream shop on my first date, or to constantly turn down food at pizza parties, graduation events, freshman orientation and all throughout college. But I did it. Heck, even though I was hospitalized for celiac complications as a freshman in college, I can still say that I created some amazing (gluten free) memories during those four years.

At the end of the day, I think these kids are sending the same message I try to always convey: that celiac disease can be tricky at any age but that you can still kick butt through it. And you might even change the world along the way! No questions - just tell me your thoughts! <3 via Blogger https://ift.tt/2MptcRC

#Blogger #college #celiac #gluten free #coeliac #celiacs #paleo #primal #foodporn #foodart

0 notes

amanisblogofmanythings · 6 years ago

Text

Investigating the Writer’s Craft

Task: Write a story for readers your own age. - DRAFT

THE LAST RACE

“What is life?”, I lay in bed thinking to myself. It’s a Friday night and I can’t help but to overthink right as I’m about to sleep. It’s also been exactly a week since I’ve turned 18 and now that I think about it, I’m still so young, yet I feel as though I need to get my whole life together only within the next few weeks. Summer is almost here and I can’t wait to just be off school, so I don’t need to go to classes than work right after, it’s exhausting. My parents raised me to work hard for everything I want and they’re really stern on me graduating from high school and soon going to college to pursue law. I’ve always been good at english and psychology and I wouldn’t mind, but at the end of the day it’s what they want more than what I want.

The more I think about it though, the more it doesn’t add up; You go to school for 18 years of your life. From preschool, to elementary, to middle school and then to highschool. After that, to really succeed, you need to pay thousands of dollars just to get a degree from university just to get a basic 9am-5pm job which most of us wouldn’t even be happy with. Finally after four more years of school, you end up with an average job, you’re in a bunch of student debt, and there’s probably some sort of underlying passion which you wished you could be doing for a lifetime instead of working under somebody else. At the end of the day, people forget about you. You’re just some average bugger living an average life. But think about it, there’s people out there that didn’t follow this norm. There’s people out there that went, “Screw the system, I want to do what I love and I’ll do anything to get there.” These are the people that are artists, astronauts, dancers, and whatever else exists out there. For me, I’d be a racecar driver if I really followed my passions, but what sucks is that I’m a girl and it’d be very unlikely. Holy. Okay I have to stop thinking so much.

I take a few deep breaths as I try to clear my mind, and the millions of things at the back of my head. I begin to fluff up my pillow and shuffle around to get comfortable, and it’s really not working. Moments later, my phone vibrates, perpetuating not being able to sleep. As I unlock my phone, and lower the brightness, I notice the notifications from my all my friends. Amber, Ayra and Iqra were all out, sending me photos and videos on snapchat since I didn’t join them tonight. They’re more rebellious than I am and have the courage to sneak out. I could never do that to my parents. I grin and put away my phone, under my pillow. I close my eyes to the sound of the rain as it begins to pour, tapping onto my window.

The sun glares onto my eyes as I wake up to notice it’s almost 9 in the morning. I always leave my blinds open before I sleep, so I can wake up early the next day with the brightness of the sun on my eyes. Kinda weird, but I love my mornings. I’m always the first one up. I step out of bed into my fluffy pink slippers and rub my eyes to wake myself up more. I go on my phone to see that there’s a car meet going on today. The sun is out, the weather is warm and today would be the perfect day. Car meets are where all car enthusiasts gather at a parking lot and appreciate each other's modified cars. Here in California, the vibes are amazing at these meets and I love to see what others do with their creativity. I’m a huge car head and I was lucky enough to work hard and buy my first car just about a year ago when I was 17. My parents help with the insurance and my part time job pays me enough money for gas and parts.

I step out of my room and head to the kitchen to cook up some breakfast. As I take out toast and eggs from the fridge, I admire the sun gleaming onto whatever’s below it. The day is so beautiful, perfect to wash my car. I fit two toasts into the toaster and start cooking a sunny side up. Eggs and toast will always be my go to. Moments later, my whole grain toasts pop out of the toaster, though I allowed my eggs to cook for just a little longer. For some reason, the sound of the sizzle of eggs on a fry pan is the most satisfying thing ever to me. As my eggs are ready, I flip them onto my toast.

As I bite into my breakfast, I scroll around on my phone to see if there are any higher paying jobs. Since I work as a cashier at a fast food restaurant and only get a few shifts a week, I really need something better to support myself.

“Aliyah can you set the kettle please?”, my mom asks from upstairs. Every morning, she loves to have tea, and every weekend it’s our routine to set the kettle when she wakes up. As my mom steps down the stairs, she asks, “So, do you have anything planned for today??”, “umm yes mom there’s a car thing going on today and I’ll probably go.”, “Please make sure there’s no street racing though Aliyah, it’s dangerous and illegal.”, my mom was cool with me going as long as I stay safe. “Yes mommm don’t worry.” As we finish up our small talk, my dad steps down with his pessimistic attitude, “Oh god Aliyah when are you going to give up on that junk car of yours? Just stick to bussing.”, I rolled my eyes as he spoke. Since I’ve had my car, he’s hated it. Especially because it’s manual. But honestly, nobody would truly understand my passion for driving and cars unless they share this passion with me. Both my parents know I’ve been into speed since I was young. From buying hot wheels instead of barbies to go karting since the age of 4.

As both my parents prepare their tea, I run upstairs to freshen up so I can go outside and give my car a beautiful shine. I always wear my favourite Nascar hat which is beige in color whenever I wash my car on a sunny day. As I dress up, I was considering going to a coin car wash instead of just doing it at home with a hose like I usually do. I mean, I do work hard and have some spare change I could use for recreation like this.

I hurry down the stairs excited to drive my car to the coin car wash where all the cool cars go on days like this. “Mom!! I’ve decided that I’ll be going to the coin car wash instead!”, I exclaimed. “Honey that car wash is so far from our house.”, my mom watched me put my sneakers on in excitement. “It’s okay the drive is beautiful and I want my car to look nice for the meet!!”, my mom and dad looked at eachother and my mom agreed on letting me go. I could tell they’re only allowing me since I’m grown enough but if they really had a choice, they wouldn’t want me to shine a car at all.

I grab my car keys which are among many other keychains which I’ve collected over the years. As I step out the door, I right away admire the sun’s reflection on my car. Many would think of this vehicle as just your ordinary, daily car. But it’s a lot more than that. It’s my most prized possession and it took forever for me to save up enough for it. It’s electric blue color reflects my bubbly personality perfectly. Although it’s an older car, it drives like new. Stepping into my car, I get comfortable and step onto the clutch as I turn it on. My car sounds loud and I’ve invested some of my money into getting a nice exhaust system and intake which definitely paid off. I plug in the aux to blast my favourite tracks, and off I went.

I shifted through the gears as my hair was blowing back with the windows down. It takes about half an hour to get to the good coin car wash with quality products. The other ones around here are rip offs. I enjoy driving, I could do it all day. The view of the palm trees and the golden blue sky, and the feeling of the warm air with a touch of cool breeze was perfect.I was approaching the car wash when I noticed a bunch of other people and their cars parked up as well; Exactly what I thought. I knew there’d be cool cars here and that’s the best part. I pull up and parked my car into one of the slots. From the corner of my eye, I noticed one of the boys staring at me and my car. He was standing beside a lowered, glossy black vehicle which looked amazing. As I turn my car off and step out, I gather the few bucks I had in my pockets for the wash.

I start spraying my car in water. From being a detailer in my past job, I learnt that you should always start by rinsing the vehicle and all unwanted particles with water before you get into the soap. “That your ride?”, says the boy who was looking at me earlier. “Yup. 6 speed.”, I replied indicating that my car has 6 gears as opposed to the regular 5. “Pretty clean. I was surprised when I saw a girl driving.”, of course he would say that, I rolled my eyes. “Girls can love cars too you know.” I continued to drench my car, and soon began to spray the thick blue soap all over. The boy grinned, “so, do you live around here?”, “About 30 minutes away from this place, close to Ordena road.”, “Ohh I live around there too. What’s your name?”, he continues to ask questions disregarding the fact that we’re complete strangers to each other. “My name’s Aliyah, what about you?”, I gave him a small smile. Getting a better look, he’s pretty attractive. But, I can’t have any distractions in my life just yet and I could tell he’s the type to cause trouble. “My name’s Austin, it’s nice to meet you.” He watches me wash all the soap off thoroughly. “Are you going to the meet today too?”, I take the initiative to continue the conversation. “Yeah, it starts soon. Wanna cruise together?”, as he said that I felt fuzzy inside. “Uhm yeah why not. Let me dry up my car and let’s head out.”, I begin to spiral a cloth around the panels of my car, absorbing all the water.

We both step into our own cars and as he starts his, I admired the sound. Both of us turning the left, we sped up to the lights ready to go. The day was better than ever and now I finally have a friend to come with me to car meets. Both of our windows were down and we were both blasting music of different types, his bass is crazy. I grin as I sped up ahead of him, trying to show off and have some fun. Around these streets, there are barely any cops which is why hosting car meets and speeding is so much easier to do.

From afar, I could hear the music and I could see the groups of cars driving into the lot of the car meet. It’s the best feeling ever to see that view. I slowly pulled up, my new friend pulling up beside me. He sped up to a farther parking spot and I followed, parking side by side. We both stepped out at the same time. “Damn, your car is loud huh.”, he complimented. “What can I say, hard work pays off right?”, we both walked around, admiring the cars of different colors, different modifications. It’s crazy how much of a niche community we are. There’s teens my age, and adults all coming together to share the same passion, an underrated and misunderstood passion.

“So do you come to car meets often?”, asks Austin. Considering the weather always being nice here in Cali, I actually don’t come to meets too often, “Sadly no. I wish I wasn’t so busy with school and work….But that’s what pays for my car parts and my gas.”, Austin looks at me with sincere interest as I spoke; Often times nobody pays attention to me when I go on about cars, so this is new. “You’re a hard worker. I like that.”, I barely know this guy, but he seems so genuine. “What about you? Do you work?”, Austin smiled when I asked that. “Honestly, I’ve been fortunate enough to never having the burden to work.”, when he says that, it’s almost humbling yet sparked curiosity within me. He’s not bragging about where his money comes from, but I want to know. “So, how do you afford your beautiful car then? Let me guess, you’re probably one of those kids that are sponsored by mommy and daddy.”, as I said that, I sounded as if I was envious, but I really wasn’t. “Well, since I’ve loved cars and racing my whole life, I got into some business doing what I love and it gets me around a grand every week.”, as we stroll through admiring the cars and talking, I was more and more engaged in our conversation. “Wait, so you’re like a mechanic or something?”, Austin smiled as I said that. A funny smile that wore an expression that I couldn’t place a finger on. “You’ll have to find out later.”, he left me curious but the way he speaks makes it convincing that he’s probably involved in something way bigger than just being a mechanic. “On a real note though, tell me more about yourself.”, he continued to speak. “Well, I’m 18 and I’ll be going to college in September for my law undergrad. On top of that, I love cars and play a little guitar too….What about you?”, “I’m 18 as well, and honestly, I’m just your average teenage boy who’s getting by. I’ll be graduating top in my class but I’m not sure if I’ll be going to college.”, as Austin says that, he looked at me in a way that was reflective of his fear of my judgement when he said that. Surprisingly, I was kind of relieved I found someone who’s a little different than your average college student. “So what are your plans for your future then?”, “Well, with however much I’ve been earning since I’ve been 16, I want to open up my own shop. You know, for all the cars that need a little bit of work. I guess you can say, I’m a future businessman. Since my father owns a bit of a franchise himself, he can mentor me a little I guess.”, Austin spoke with optimism and although his dreams sound big, a huge part of me believed in him. Just the way he spoke, his confident demeanor. “Well, I’m glad you know what you wanna do.”, we continued to walk around in silence.

The sun was still sitting pretty and the day was still young. “Well, I’ve got to get going. I gotta catch up on homework and you know, just make sure I’m home on time.”, I say. Austin laughed. “You have a curfew?”, he teased. “Uh yeah I do, and I don’t wanna get in trouble.”, I sounded like a little goody two shoes. “Okay okay car girl. When will I see you again?”, I smiled. I held my hand out indicating Austin to give me his phone, so I could give him my number. It was nothing flirty, but just a friendly gesture because I really needed some car friends. Austin gave me a friendly smile. “Wellllll I guess I’ll see you around some other time, it was nice meeting you.”, he sounded formal and said goodbye.

I stepped into my car and drove off, into the rest of the day. It was almost evening time and I know my mom would want me home for dinner later. The air was still warm and the breeze was still a little cool. As I drove, I couldn’t help but to think about the future. For someone who’s so young, I have this constant anxiety. I fear what’s in store for me. Will I be happy? Will I be successful? I also thought about Austin a little, someone whom I’ve met for the first time today, yet I wouldn’t mind hanging out with more. I turn into my neighborhood and downshift to first gear before I park my car onto the driveway.

I step into my house to see both my parents sitting in the living room. “Aliyah your mom cooked pasta, go change and have some dinner with us.”, my dad said as I entered. I ran upstairs to change when I felt my phone vibrate. It was Austin. “Heyyyy, you down to make some money tonight?”, that message was really random and seemed fishy. “Umm, how??”, “Bring your car, meet at crew st. at 12 tonight. You won’t regret it.”, when I read that message, there’s no way I could leave the house that late. I didn’t want to be lame though, especially because I just met him and he seems so cool. “Uhh sure, okay I’ll be there.” I’ll have to find a way to sneak out then. I have to prove to Austin that I’m not some goody two shoes.

After dinner and spending some family time, I wait until both my parents head upstairs for bed. I needed to come up with a plan to sneak out without them hearing; Afterall, this is my first time doing all of this. I remember watching a movie where a kid oiled his door hinges to prevent squeaking, and I think I might have to do that. I wandered in the kitchen looking for some oil and used a spoon. How in the world can I do this without making a mess? I walk over to the side door of our house, and begin to pour some of the oil from the spoon onto the hinges. I’m pretty sure there are way smarter ways to be doing this, but it’s better than nothing. “Aliyah!! Get to bed. It’s getting late.” I almost jumped when my mom exclaimed that from the top of the stairs, it caught me off guard and my heart dropped at the thought of her catching my little scheme trying to sneak out. “Yes mom!! I’ll be up soon.”, I thought about anything else that might need to be done before I get to my room and wait for them to fall asleep. I should be fine to be honest.

I brush my teeth and cleanse my skin before “bed” and wait for my parents to fall asleep. It’s a quarter to 11 and they’re usually knocked out by 11:30 which gives me the perfect time to sneak out and make it to crew st in time to see what Austin was talking about. As I lay in bed and think, I realize that crew st. is actually really deserted and empty. Is Austin trying to kidnap me or something? My gut trusts him and I’m curious as to how he makes money. Around Crew st. there’s no cars, no stores, no houses, no schools, no nothing. It’s just an empty and dark street that everyone avoids just cause it goes nowhere, so it’s suspicious of Austin to want me to meet him there. Before I know it, it’s 11:30 and I was ready to sneak out. I keep my face bare and natural, and slip into my black ripped jeans and one of my crew neck shirts.

My heart is racing as I carefully and quietly open my room door. Before I proceed to tip-toe through the hallway, I make sure my parent’s room light is off; That usually means that they are asleep. I remember my friends telling me to always keep socks on when I sneak out to avoid making any sound from my feet. That idea was clever and actually worked. My palms were sweating as I was light on my feet. And at this moment, the worst thing happened. MY PHONE VIBRATES. The house is so quiet that the vibration of my phone could awake everybody. My eyes open wide and I grab my phone and turn off the vibration setting. This is the worst anxiety ever. I’m going to get in so much trouble. I stay still after the vibration to see if I hear any of my parents get up. So far, the coast is clear and I continue to make my way down the stairs. I slide into my sneakers and make my way out the side door. Oh my god. I made it. I have a bit of an adrenaline rush and I feel rebellious but a part of me loves this feeling. I go on my phone to see where that vibration came from. It was a message from Austin that read, “Hey you comin?”, I replied, “On my way now!” The night felt young and it felt as though I had all this time to myself.

As I step into my car I remember how loud my exhaust is. Oh god, my parents would definitely wake up if they hear me start my car. I begin to think. There has to be a way for me to leave. I put my keys in, and instead of fully starting my car, I allow my car to stay in neutral and I step out and begin to push it off my driveway, so at least the sound doesn’t go directly to my parents’ window. This is so clever. I grunt a little as I push my car off, and hop into the front seat. I start my car, clutch into first gear and drive off into the night. My parents would’ve called by now if they realized I’m out, so the fact that they didn’t means I should be safe.

I drive for about 25 minutes until I turn into crew st. and continue to drive until I find Austin. From afar, I could hear the sound of cars and people and I could see a few dozen cars parked along the side of the road. What’s going on here? As I drive closer, I see Austin with a bunch of his friends. He waves as I park beside him and has a smile on his face. “Your here!!!” I smiled back and looked around. This was like a real life fast and furious. The road was closed off and people are coming together to race one another for money and pink slips. My mom always warned me about street racing, and I didn’t know it was that serious until tonight. “So this is how you make your money huh?” I look onto the road infront of me where there are two cars behind a spray painted white line ready to race. Everyone cheering and mesmerized by the strength of these cars and how they push through the street. I could see people handing piles of cash to one another after each race. Faces of disappointment, faces of pride and faces of adrenaline junkies just like me. “You’re racing tonight you know that right?”, Austin looked at me and he seemed serious. “Hahahah no way! You’re crazy.”, I looked around as I witness pairs of drivers at a time lining up to race and to compete. Each driver going the speed of the full odometer until one of them wins. This is crazy but I love it.

0 notes