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fancat-not-fangirl · 4 years

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It’s Not You Pt.9

a/n: ok so that took wayyyy longer than expected SORRY :/ (for those of you who haven’t seen Princess Bride, it’s an amazing movie and I totally recommend watching it)

3 weeks later

24 hours. Cas was 24 hours away from Saturday. 24 long, grueling, endless hours. He didn’t think he could wait that long. Yes he’d made it through the four previous days, but now that he only had mere hours until Saturday, Cas thought that the waiting would never end.

Because since he saw Dean Winchester’s car drive off the college campus the week before, Cas had been counting the days, hours, minutes, seconds, until he could see him again. Until he could look into those apple green eyes, and count the freckles on his face. Until he could hear that simultaneously soft but husky voice in his ear. Until he could wrap his arms around his soulmate and never let go.

24 hours.

Well, to be exact, 23 hours, 49 minutes and 14 seconds.

All he had to do was get out of bed, manage to sit through his classes without constantly getting distracted, finish his homework, and go to sleep. And then when he’d wake up tomorrow he’d get to finally finally see Dean again.

But first things first, he had to accomplish the first thing on his list. He had to get out of bed.

So Cas heaved himself off of his comfortable mattress and pillow, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he glanced over at Sam’s bed, which was empty. Sam’s first class was at 8:00am, so he was always up and about much earlier than Cas was. Cas, on the other hand, preferred to sleep in, so he specifically chose his first class of the day to be Constitutional Law, which started at 9:00am.

Looking at the clock, Cas let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. It was 8:20.

23 hours, 40 minutes, 38 seconds.

This was going to be a long day.

******

He made it through his first four classes of the day. Barely. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Dean’s smiling face gazing down at him, and Cas practically had to hold his eyes open through most of his morning lectures.

But it was finally lunchtime and Cas took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air as he opened the front doors and strolled outside. He grinned and waved at Sam, who was already sitting at their usual table in the courtyard. It was a Friday, and although the weather had gotten colder over the past few weeks, Cas welcomed the chilly air. People were milling around, discussing their weekend plans, inviting each other to various parties. Cas breezed past groups of teachers and students, dropping his bag down at Sam’s table.

Sam already had a mouth full of salad as he tried saying something to Cas before realizing that all that came out was a garbled mess of words with a side of ranch dressing. Cas chuckled and waited for Sam to swallow, sitting down across from his roommate, who seemed to be growing by the minute. Cas nearly had to break his neck with the amount of craning that was necessary to look Sam in the eye. If he was being honest, Cas was probably more familiar with Sam’s various array of flannels than with his facial features.

Sam got the food down quicker than Cas thought was possible; a trait probably inherited from his brother. A brother who they both missed terribly, although for different reasons. Ironically, Sam talked about Dean even more now that he started seeing his brother more often. Before the Columbus Day weekend, Sam would bring Dean many conversations he shared with anyone that’d listen, talking about how much he missed his brother. But once Sam started seeing him at a more regular rate, Dean was all he ever talked about. Well, other than Gabe. Not that Cas minded. He could talk about Gabe for hours, sharing stories upon stories about his older brother. And Dean. Cas couldn’t stop pestering Sam about telling him facts and stories about his soulmate. But he didn’t think that Sam minded either. Any chance Sam had to show off his brother, he’d take it.

“I’m leaving for the weekends.” Sam’s voice brought Cas back to reality. He realized that he’d spaced out, and brought his eyes back around to Sam. “Me and Kevin have to work on a project for my Nutrition and Dietetics class, so I’ll be staying over at his place. I’m leaving with him today after my last class.” Sam winked at him. “Just don’t have too much fun with Dean while I’m gone.”

Cas blushed and quickly looked down. He heard Sam chuckle and raised his head, then whispered with a smirk, “Don’t worry. We’ll be sure not to use your bed.”

Sam choked on his next forkful of salad, and Cas left him that way, grinning from ear to ear as he got up and strode over to the food trucks. What was he in the mood for today? Not sushi or any type of fish. Salads were definitely off the list. Nothing spicy, so that eliminated Mexican and Indian food. Aha. Burgers.

“Double bacon cheeseburger please. No pickles. Thank you.” The line at the truck was short, and Cas placed his order without thinking twice. Wherever he went, wherever he ate, he always ordered the same burger. College was no different. Sam had tried ceaselessly convincing him to try something different. Either to eat one with pickles, or maybe to have BBQ sauce instead of ketchup, but Cas refused. He knew what he liked, and he’d stick to it.

“One double bacon cheeseburger please no pickles thank you.” Came a familiar voice, and Cas started. “Here you go, angel.” And he looked up as the 20 hours, 31 minutes, and 24 seconds came spiraling down to zero. Because Cas found himself looking up into Dean’s smiling face as the older boy stretched out a carefully packaged burger towards Cas.

“What? Dean? You- I don’t-” Dean let out a laugh that made Cas’s heart jump in his chest for the first time that week.

“Hey, Chuck, can you take over for a second?” Dean turned his head and called back to the other man in the truck. A muffled “Sure thing” was heard, and Dean sent Cas a sharp grin as he clambered out of the truck and to Cas, who threw himself into Dean’s arms the second his feet hit the ground.

“I missed you, too.” He whispered into Cas’s hair. They stayed in the embrace for only seconds before Dean grunted and pulled away. “The burger’s leaking ketchup all over my uniform”, he grumbled, viciously trying to wipe off the now red patch on his sleeve. Cas giggled, overjoyed that Dean was here. Remembering Sam, he swiveled around and was about to wave his roommate over when Dean put a hand on his shoulder.

“Sammy already knows.” Cas’s incredulous gaze found Dean’s. Sam knew? And he didn’t tell Cas? If Cas had known that Dean would be here, he would have chosen a different outfit to wear. Oh god, Dean probably thought that his knit cardigan was atrocious. If Cas had known, he would have at least attempted to arrange his hair into a presentable shape. If Cas had known…

“Don’t take it out on him, though. I told him to keep his cakehole shut about it or I’d chop off his balls and feed them to a zebra.” Dean winked at Cas. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Cas’s heart melted at that and he smiled up at Dean, although still a little confused. “Wait, so when did you-”

“Deano! Get your ass back in here!” Came the call from inside the truck. Smiling sheepishly at Cas, Dean ruffled his soulmate’s hair and gave him a quick kiss on the nose. “My shift ends at 8:30. I’ll explain everything later.” And with that information he left Cas standing behind the truck and returned to working the job Cas never knew he had.

Feeling a little dazed, Cas walked back to his spot at the table, everything snapping back into focus only when he sat down and was met with hysteric giggling coming from Sam.

“Oh, you should have seen your face!” Sam cackled. “It was definitely worth the wait.”

Blushing now, Cas looked down at his cardigan with a frown and started running his hands through his hair. “You could have told me to dress nicer today”, he mumbled.

Sam laughed and leaned forward on his elbows, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “But then you’d have gotten suspicious. It was better this way.” He giggled again. “The look on your face was priceless, though.”

Cas unwrapped his burger and smiled at the heart draw on the wrapper in sharpie. He hoped it hadn’t bled through onto the actual bun, and was relieved when he didn’t taste sharpie in his first bite. He didn’t know why or how, but this particular burger seemed to taste better than any other burger he’d ever had.

He and Sam finished their food in peace, but Cas’s mind was reeling. Dean? Here? Since when did Dean work in food trucks? And anyway, Cas thought he worked at the repair shop. It surely payed better than serving food, even though he knew that Dean didn’t like the, and he quoted, “Black Hole chock full of people with sequoia trees shoved up their asses”.

He shook his head and remembered that Dean promised that he would explain everything later. After his shift ended at 8:30. Cas smiled and set the timer.

11 hours. 30 min. 22 seconds.

******

Sam had left with Kevin an hour ago, so Cas used the peace and quiet without his roommate to finish his homework. Not that Sam was loud or annoying, but he and Cas always managed to start a conversation about something or other every time they were put in a room together. Whether it be sports, books, movies, art, food, or pencils, they always found something to talk about. Cas would be writing an essay when he’d head a small gasp from Sam’s side of the room, and swivel around just in time to see Sam sit upright in bed and ask Cas if fish felt wet or dry all the time. What would follow would be a long, winded argument ending in them not wanting to take up any more time with discussions and give up. Cas still firmly believed that water was not wet, but he never brought it up again to Sam. With a little smile, Cas decided that he would ask Dean and see what he thought.

Dean. Who would be arriving in 0 hours, 6 minutes, and 47 seconds.

Cas had made and remade his bed twice now, and he almost laughed at the irony. The first time he had heard that Dean was coming over, it had been Sam that went completely Control Freak, neatening his bed and rearranging his books to impress his brother. Now Cas was the one that was going crazy trying to make sure that his room looked presentable.

Realizing that he was pacing the room and probably annoying the hell out of the people on the floor below him, Cas sat down on his bed. His eyes travelled to his signed vinyl record. Dean kept promising that he would play some of his songs for Cas on his guitar, but he never actually did it, something about not risking any “tiny tot college twerps” bringing harm to his Baby 2.0; the guitar. In fact, Cas had never even heard Dean sing. Yes, at times Cas would hear snippets of a song here and there, maybe even some humming. But never any actual singing. Cas made another mental note for himself to ask Dean about his guitar, too.

Cas almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock on the door, and was up and across the room in a flash. He thrust the door open and was met with a bear hug from Dean. Smiling into Dean’s neck, Cas returned the hug and kicked the door shut behind them.

“Hey, angel.” He heard Dean whisper into his hair, which he then placed a soft kiss in. To be honest, Cas loved his new nickname. Well, not exactly new. His mother had been calling him ‘angel’ since he was a kid, and it had always annoyed him. But whenever Dean said it, Cas melted. The way Dean’s mouth formed the word, not to mention the gravelly way he sounded out the letters, almost had Cas on his knees. Like at the moment.

Their mouths collided in a kiss, and Cas moaned and arched his back into Dean. This kiss was hungry. Desperate. As if neither one could get enough of the other, which was true. Cas loved this. Loved the almost feral way Dean’s lips ravaged his own, and the small growls Dean made when Cas’s tongue traced the inside of his mouth.

“You look so damn cute in this”, came the soft murmur from Dean, and before he knew it, Dean’s hands were under his cardigan and all over his skin. Cas inhaled sharply as the warmth from Dean’s calloused fingers seeped into him. They were running up along his back, around his torso, on his chest. Dean was everywhere and Cas didn’t ever want it to stop.

Soon his cardigan was off and on the floor, quickly followed by Dean’s flannel and shirt. Their hands were all over each other, warm and sure. Dean’s mouth now decided to chart its course down Cas’s neck, and he arched his head back to give Dean more access. Dean’s mouth then traveled lower, down, down, down his chest. Cas was gasping, hands woven into Dean’s hair. Every time Dean sucked at a spot of his skin just right, Cas moaned and pulled on Dean’s hair. Dean obviously enjoyed it, and smirked devilishly whenever he got a particularly loud keen out of his soulmate.

And then they were on the bed (not Sam’s, just as promised), and Cas was a writhing mess under Dean’s hands and mouth. They traced his hips, his stomach, his chest. They turned Cas into a moaning, sweating, begging pool of goo that was addicted to the touch of his lover. But this was a healthy addiction. It was one that made Cas the happiest man in the world.

Cas suddenly remembered something.

“Dean?”

Dean stopped his meticulous worshipping of Cas’s body and raised his eyes to meet Cas’s. “Hmm?” He asked, his voice vibrating through Cas’s body, making him shiver.

“Do fish feel wet or dry all the time?”

Dean’s face broke into a smile and he laughed, bringing himself back up to kiss Cas in the mouth. They stayed like that for a while, just kissing. Cas didn’t necessarily care that Dean hadn’t answered his question, because this kiss was slow and soft, nothing like the one they had earlier. Cas couldn’t decide which one he liked better.

When the kiss deepened, he realized that he didn’t have to decide. A kiss from Dean was still a kiss. And Cas loved them all the same.

***

“So, you never answered my question.” Cas poked Dean in the side as they settled down into the blankets to watch a movie the following day. They had just returned from having dinner in the city, where Cas had learned that Dean had taken the job at the food trucks because he was lonely and bored back at the repair shop. Dean admitted that the pay wasn’t as good, but he’d also taken on the morning shift at an indoor pool not far from the college campus. Cas was thrilled at the chance of seeing his boyfriend more often. He still grinned at the thought. Dean was his boyfriend. He never thought that he’d be saying it, but he was glad that he had found his soulmate. And so was his mom. She had been ecstatic when Cas had called and told her that he’d found the person with his name on their wrist. After relaying the whole story of their little mix up to her, his mom had insisted that she get a chance to meet Dean, and invited him to stay at their house for Winter Break. Dean had looked like a happy puppy when Cas had suggested the idea, and had immediately agreed.

During the dinner in the city, Dean, in turn, had also learned that Cas had never seen the movie Princess Bride. From the sound of it, Cas was surprised that such a movie had even peaked Dean’s interest, but Dean had firmly stated that this was a movie worth watching.

So there they were, cuddled together on Cas’s bed, surrounded by a mountain of pillows and blankets, Dean’s laptop in front of them. On their way back from dinner, they’d bought popcorn and snacks, and were now up and ready to begin Operation Watch The Girly Movie That Dean Insists Isn’t Girly. Well, they’d be ready if Dean could just get his Amazon prime account to work.

And while he was doing that, Cas was determined to wring an answer out of Dean.

“Which question are you referring to?” Dean asked, scrolling through the saved passwords on his phone, trying to find the one for his account.

“The one I asked on Friday.” At Dean’s confused sideways glance, Cas elaborated. “The one about fish. Do they feel wet all the time?”

Dean chuckled and looked up at Cas with those startlingly green eyes. Cas didn’t quite understand how eyes could be that green. Most of the green-eyed people he’d met had more of a dull, stormy sea gray/green colored eyes. But Dean. Dean’s eyes were different. Something about them was so bright, as if they were a field where the grass was made of emeralds.

“I think that depends on whether or not you think water is wet.” Dean’s voice brought Cas’s mooning and staring to a stop.

“Water is not wet.”

Dean snorted. “Yes it is.”

“No. It’s not.” Cas shook his head. Dean was taking the same approach to this as his brother had.

Arching his eyebrow, Dean said, “Yeah it is. Something is defined as ‘wet’ if it is surrounded by water. Water is surrounded by water, therefore it is wet.”

“But if you look it up, water isn’t wet by itself, only when it comes in contact with other materials.”

“Oh and we should believe everything the Internet tells us. That’s rich.” He then threw up his hands and let out a whoop of triumph as he finally found the correct password to his Amazon account.

Cas rolled his eyes, and decided that they’d save this conversation for another time. Because right now Dean’s arm was around him, pulling him down towards his chest. Cas, in turn, wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and snuggled closer to him, breathing in the scent that had now become so familiar to him. He smiled and sighed in content as Dean’s fingers started tracing soft patterns up and down his back.

The movie started, and everything else soon faded away until it was only him and Dean, giggling during the fight scene between Montoya and Westley, jumping when the R.O.U.S attacked, gasping at Montoya’s fight with Count Rugen, and smiling happily at the end.

And when the movie was over and they pulled the blankets tighter around themselves, Cas had to admit; he had liked the movie more than he first thought he would. But maybe that had a little something to do with the person watching with him. The one that was now enveloping Cas in warmth and burrowing his face in Cas’s neck.

The one that Cas suddenly knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

#supernatural #college au #soulmate au #destiel #sastiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel novak #gabriel novak #au #fluff #destiel fic #it's not you

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parisianartistic · 4 years

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title: Fairytales

about: Sèbastien gets treated to a day on the west coast

when: February 14, 2020

warnings: Age gap relationship, prostitution mention

[DEAN] Hello babe.

[SEB] Bonjour, mon chéri!

[SEB] Tu me manques.

[DEAN] You’re so charming. Are you doing anything for Valentine’s Day?

[SEB] No. I took the day off because it’s my birthday, but I don’t have anything in particular planned.

[SEB] My birthday wish is getting to see you, though. ;)

[DEAN] I was waiting to hear that. Check your email.

Less than thirty minutes later, Sébastien's email pinged with the airplane tickets. He opened them to check the time and also the location. He lifted his eyebrows at the destination. San Francisco, California. A bright smile swept across his face, as he pulled up a chrome browser and started to search the new location.

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On Thursday night, Sébastien flew out right after his shift. He took his usual position in first class and settled in to the plush relaxing chairs he’d got so used to over the past year. His long legs stretched out far in front of him, and leaned back. Even though it was the middle of the night, Sébastien watched the cities of the states drift by, 10,000 feet below him. Eventually, he fell asleep under his warm blanket.

Typically whenever he came out of the airport to meet Dean, there would be a driver there waiting with his name on a sign. His green eyes scanned the chauffeurs. To his surprise, none of them had his name. But then he caught a glimpse of the tall, dark figure leaning on a shiny blue Mercedes. Sébastien's smile brightened as he rushed to go meet the familiar man.

With enthusiasm that could be seen from the moon, Sébastien wrapped his arms around Dean. “Salut!” He cooed, planting a fat, excited kiss on the other's cheek.

“Hey!” Dean greeted as he instinctively wrapped his arm around Sébastien's thin waist. “How is it you seem to have got taller every time I meet you?” He chuckled as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of the skinny jeans, allowing him to feel Sébastien's hip. The motion only lasted seconds, but Sébastien felt the skin burn long after. Sébastien chuckled, “It’s the heels,” as he proudly showed off the brand-new boots that he had got from his last shopping spree.

“Oh, those look familiar! They look super-good on you,” said Dean, glancing down at the Doc Martins he was displaying.

Dean reached behind him and opened the car door for Sébastien. “Thank you for coming to pick me up. Sébastien said, slipping into the passenger seat.

“Babe, you deserve it.” Dean closed the door, walked around to the other side, then got in. “Tomorrow is going to be your day.” Dean said, reaching over to place a hand on the top of Sébastien's thigh. He kept it there as they drove off into San Francisco traffic.

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Sébastien stared out at the bright California morning light that shone through the curtains. He moved slowly, taking in the position in which he fell asleep. There he was, naked and in bed next to a rich counterpart. His bright green eyes scanned the room for the evidence of what happened the night before, then went straight to the clock. Carefully, he removed the blankets, and put on a tight pair of boxers.

He started the morning ritual he and Dean had. First, he filled the room with the fresh aroma of coffee. Sébastien always made sure that he would be able to make French Presse coffee for Dean. He would even make the effort to call the hotel a day before to ensure his request would be fulfilled. He collected his supplies, then started the process, singing a soft French melody. He hopped over to the door before 7:30, and opened it expecting the breakfast to arrive. He glanced to see the cart rolling up the hallway, then thanked the man as he took the cart,rolling it to the dining area of the suite. His ears pricked up at the stirring in the bedroom, which meant that Dean was awake and Sébastien made sure to peek into the room.

“Good morning!” Sébastien said in a sing-song voice, as he peeked into the room. He made sure to show Dean a bright charming smile and his ass, neatly pressed into those tight boxers, before he twisted around and continued his song. A smile wreathing his face, when he knew that Dean had reached for his phone to snap a picture of him.

Dean went for a shower, and in the meantime, Sébastien placed everything perfectly on the table. His OCD drove him to adjust everything to be just so, and the exact image of an upper-class setting. Lastly, Sébastien put his iPad on the table and placed the newspaper next to Dean’s fixed plate. When the man came out, he grinned from ear to ear when he spotted Sébastien bringing over the coffee. Sébastien curiously eyed the box that Dean had in his hands and knew it was for him, but studiously chose to ignore it. They shared a kiss on the lips, and Sébastien met him at the table, pouring the coffee for him.

“Did you sleep okay?” Sébastien asked Dean, as he added the sugar and cream to his liking.

“Of course! I had you sleeping next to me.” Dean said fondly, as he put a hand on Sébastien's naked thighs, softly stroking his skin with his thumb.

“What are you doing today?”

“Eight hour meeting at nine. From there, we’re going to do whatever you want.” Dean’s hand moved up Sébastien's leg, stopping at the top. His strong hand gripped Sébastien’s leg.

“Ohh-laa,” Sébastien jumped involuntarily. “Oh jeeze, you’re frisky today!”

“Well, it is Valentine’s Day. And your birthday.” That’s when Dean brought out the box.

Excited, Sébastien held out his hands for the square box. His smile brightened as he opened it, to find the gold-plated watch. At the sight of a Citizen watch, Sébastien's eyes lit up, and his fingers moved to feel over the beautifully crafted piece of bling. Very delicately, as if the watch were so fragile it might break if he manhandled it, Sébastien handed it over to Dean. Sébastien hurriedly unclasped his old watch, while the older man removed the new one from its casing. Eagerly, Sébastien held out his wrist and let Dean slip it on, adjusting g it on his left wrist.

“C’est beau. I’m in love,” he announced excitedly, as he flipped his wrist this way and that, admiring the luxury item against his pale, almost translucent skin. "Did you have it sized for me? It fits absolutely perfectly.”

“I got a smaller size just for you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtful,” Sébastien commented, as he took Dean’s rough hands into his own.

Rather than eating the breakfast he ordered, he made sure to keep the conversation going with Dean. He would only eat or drink while listening to Dean’s talk of his company, or general life. Sébastien made sure to bring up old subjects, such as Dean's daughters, or something else that came up previously. Dean ate up Sébastien's excitement. Even though he barely ate his breakfast, when Dean stood up, Sébastien followed suit. While Dean was dressing, Sébastien examined himself in the mirror, admiring again the new luxury timepiece that was now adorning his wrist. His fingertips smoothed over the fine details, and when he accidentally smudged the face, he wiped it vigorously.

When Dean was finally dressed in his suit, Sébastien took the tie and fashioned it into a perfect Windsor Knot around his neck.

“Can I walk with you to your car?” Sébastien asked in a polite tone, as he pulled the tie straight and removed his hands, to allow Dean to adjust it himself.

“I would love you to.”

Quickly, Sébastien pulled on some clothes, then met Dean at the front. Together they walked down, Sébastien making sure to loop his arm into Dean's, holding onto it, as if it were a life-line. Dean continued to chatter on about his work and Sébastien always replied in a sing-song manner. Once they reached the the parking-lot, Sébastien turned to Dean:

“What are your plans for lunch?” He asked.

“Company lunch.” Dean squeezed Sébastien's hand.

“Ohh-laa. I’ll be so lonely without you.” He pouted. “Maybe I could have some lunch money?”

“Of course.” Dean chuckled. They got to the car and Dean opened his wallet. Sébastien waited patiently as Dean pulled out the familiar Platinum card. He handed the slick, well-worn plastic over to Sébastien, who took it gracefully. He leaned in and gave Dean a kiss on the cheek. “Merci,” he whispered. Dean turned his head to give a kiss on the lips. Sébastien pulled away with a shy, polite smile.

“I know you have a day planned. How about you go out and have fun and meet me for dinner,” said Dean. Sébastien nodded his head at the command, then opened the Mercedes' door for Dean, waving him off as he drove away. Sébastien turned on his heel, and headed back to the hotel. Once he was inside the suite door, he sighed out in relief. He stripped himself, and went to bed for a nap.

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When Sébastien awoke some time later, he picked up his discarded clothes from the floor. Showered and dressed, Sébastien pulled on his backpack, shoving the Platinum card into his wallet. He looked at his journal, smiling at the list of things that he wanted to do.

First it was lunch on the docks. He walked up to the top deck of a restaurant with an oceanic view, flashed his fake ID to the host, and sat at the bar. His brilliant green eyes scanned the beautiful, dark beach. There were a couple of people enjoying the beach, but most of the tourists were probably waiting until later that day. He took a sip of the deep red Merlot wine while he waited for his meal. Taking out his journal, he opened a fresh page, sketching out the scene in front of him.

When a group of high-school students stormed the beach, his heart bloomed with fond memories. His mind traveled back to France, where he and his friends would plan trips away to the white sands of the country. Even though Sébastien could barely afford the luxury, he would tag along. He knew that most of them could afford the marketplaces along the beach, from which locals picked their cuisine of choice. Instead, they would all get together the day before the beach trip, with ingredients for homemade sandwiches, snacks, as well as juice. One day, his best friend had even offered Sébastien new swimming gear, so that Sébastien didn’t have to go in with an old pair of boxers. Sébastien’s eyes started to brim and feel gritty, due to unshed tears.

Gulping deeply, helps to push down the unbidden tears. Sébastien continued to sketch, filling the page. Though the California water was in front of him, Sébastien's thoughts were filled with the fresh, powdered sand and crystal blue water, of his beloved home country.

Sébastien sat there for well over an hour, picking at his three course meal. He chewed slowly, taking in the scene of California, as its citizens woke up and started their day. Even though he was alone, he didn’t mind watching the people around him. France always got interesting tourists - in fact the country got more tourists per year than its own population! Unlike his French peers, Sébastien made a habit out of people watching. The free sport entertained his art with funny stories, and gave inspiration to some of the characters he invented for possible comic ideas. He had multiple records of people he’d seen and conversations he'd overheard.

The cheese platter was set in front of him, along with the check, and Sébastien handed over the Platinum card, without bothering to check the price. He smiled brightly at the woman as she took it, and Sébastien used a fork to poke at the small cubes of cheese. The bliss of the tart flavor brought him closer and closer to home. He was still picking away, when the waiter dropped the check off, and Sèbastian glanced at it eyeing the $150 cost. He quickly calculated the tip and then shoved the card back in his wallet.

Then he was onto the rest of his day. A haircut, and a full day of limitless shopping.

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Dean sent Sébastien the address, while he was standing in line at the store. Sébastien smiled warmly, ordering an Uber to be ready for him when he was done. At the designer store, Sébastien handed the card over to the cashier for the items he had in his hand. Today he was getting a fresh new outfit. He happily raced back to the hotel to change.

An hour later, Sébastien stepped boots first out of the Uber. The dark blue jeans, stuffed into his Doc Martins, complimented and elongated his long legs. A red and white thin striped shirt went perfectly with his dark navy blue Ralph Lauren jacket. He pulled down the sleeves to show off the gift that Dean had given him earlier. Lining the inside of the jacket, and wrapped around his neck was a dark black scarf, perfectly finishing off his preppy French look.

Sébastien's eyes lit up when he saw the blue Mercedes, noting the license plate, and smiled brightly. Dean stepped out of the car after a valet opened it for him. On cue, Sébastien walked over to Dean, giving him a big kiss on the cheek, then taking his arm. The older man greeted him in the same manner, then ushered him into the hotel. When Dean mentioned his name, they were seated immediately, regardless of the long wait.

“Do you like what I got?” Sébastien swept his hand down his body, showing off the fresh clothes he had on.

Dean chuckled. “Oh? Is that new?” He asked as his hand ran over the soft clothes.

Sèbastian nodded.

“Looks sexy on you,” Dean commented. “And it complements the watch, I like it. I’ve never known men with style like yours. Then again, I’m surrounded by suits all day long”

They sat down and Sébastien immediately ordered a particular wine for both of them. Impressed, Dean tilted his head. “I didn’t even know they had that here.” Dean said. “Oh, and I loved that picture you sent me from the bar. You looked absolutely stunning in the sunlight.”

“Thank you. I called ahead and asked. Even reserved a bottle specially. They only have 20 at the moment. And you’ll love it. Its sweetness compliments the cheeses that they have here.” Sébastien informed him, as he carefully placed his hand on Dean’s leg. “Did the tour go well?”

Dean spiraled into his day and Sébastien interjected wherever it felt appropriate to do so. He kept himself engaged during the full two hours, and paced himself with the wine. At the end of the meal, Dean took care of the check, and Sébastien was once again on his arm as they walked out of the hotel. Rather than going to the valet, Dean turned the corner.

“Let’s take a walk.” Dean told him.

“Ohh-laa?” Sébastien trilled, as they continued to walk down the path with Dean guiding them. Sébastien observed how the lights illuminating the statue in front of the museum, brightened it up, and instantly, he knew exactly where they were. His smile brightened. “Waow, incroyable!” Sébastien excitedly uttered, as he pointed at the large frame.

“Here, let me take your picture.” Dean unlooped his arm, placing a soft hand on Sébastien's lower back.

Sébastien walked quickly over to the statue, standing below it, and looking back over his shoulder at Dean. He smiled as he observed the other fiddling with his phone. Sébastien used his considerable height to reach up, and allowed his fingers to brush over the marble surface, feeling its aura and marvel. When he looked over his shoulder again, he realized that Dean was about to take his picture. He flashed a warm, bright smile in Dean's direction, as he stood patiently underneath the statue. Sébastien motioned Dean to join him, and the elder walked over to him.

As Dean walked over, Sébastien took out his own phone, starting to take a series of selfies. When Dean reached him, Sébastien drew him in for more pictures. In one, Sébastien coyly turned his head to give a sweet and innocent kiss to the other man's dark cheek. Not long after, they continued into the art museum that the statue was adorning.

They spent hours together, standing in front of paintings. Sébastien rattled off facts as they walked up to each one. It was lucky for them both that going to a museum on Valentine’s Day was a very unpopular idea. Sébastien was by now used to the odd stares they got. In fact whenever he was with Dean, he had become a professional at ignoring them.

He didn’t care about the looks, nor the hushed whispers. This was how he was going to be able to afford college. A fat percentage of the savings he had built up, was comprised of the money that Dean had given him. Let’s not even talk about the clothes, technology, and art supplies that enabled him to function from day to day. Though he didn’t care what his peers thought of what he did, Sèbastian made sure to keep it on the down-low. He had read several articles criticizing his actions, and some even went to the length of calling what he did prostitution! That simple conclusion was enough to make Sébastien "X" out of the site. He’d made so much money so far just by going on dates and appearing naked. This all helped to give his ego a huge boost. In addition, all it was to him, was an extremely rich male benefactor, who would pay Sébastien for anything he did with him. And overall, Dean wasn’t that bad looking either.

As they approached the art pieces, Sébastien instantly recognized them, rattling off some fine details he knew about the artist. Dean would listen politely, interjecting with his own knowledge of the paintings, if he had any. Sébastien pointed out techniques the artist used, explaining how he could tell the sheer merit of each. They even went so far as to take pictures in front of some of the rarer paintings and statues.

After three hours of standing, Sébastien plunked himself down in front of a large oceanic sculpture, leaning on Dean.

“Thank you.” Sébastien said in a dry, dreamy voice. He hadn’t spoken for that long since the first time he was with Dean. His hand was entwined with Dean’s, and lay in the elder’s lap. His emerald eyes glazed lazily over the statue, going over its finer details. The explosion of colors the sea creature statue in front of them radiated, seemed to dance with the lighting that the museum had focused directly onto it, in order to show it off at its finest. Sébastien turned his head and caught a whiff of the man’s old spice cologne. “You smell nice.”

“Anything for you baby. Happy birthday.”

“Merci. What happened to Cindy?” Sébastien questioned lazily. “I thought you were going to call her.”

The other man chuckled. “I was thinking about it, but I thought about you first,” Dean said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I hadn’t seen you since school started, and felt like having a nice conversation. Not that Cindy doesn’t. I just missed you.” Dean stroked Sébastien's hair.

Sébastien smiled. “Are you ready to head back now?”

Dean nodded, and they stood up and left the museum.

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When Sébastien got to the room, he took Dean’s jacket for him, then hung it up. Dean walked over to the love seat, sat down, and loosened his tie.

“I’ve been standing all day. I don’t know if this is good for my age," Dean laughed as he rubbed his neck. He found the TV remote and turned it on.

Sébastien automatically went to dampen a towel, then put it in the microwave. After it had heated up, Sébastien brought it over, carefully placing it on Dean’s neck.

He sat on his knees in front of the couch, then carefully pulled off the man’s shoes. At the motion, Dean let out a soft moan at the sweet relief. Tenderly, Sébastien also removed the other man's socks, and began to massage his feet. The soft grunts and huffs signaled to Sébastien that he was on the right track. Sébastien shifted slightly, so that he was between Dean’s legs, and continued massaging his feet.

During the first commercial break of the news, Dean reached forward and removed Sébastien's scarf, setting it aside. He then made quick work of shedding Sébastien from his jacket and shirt. After his shirt was removed, Sébastien carefully unclasped the expensive watch, putting it aside for safe keeping. Sébastien continued his motions, then after he had spent enough time on Dean’s feet, he washed his hands, toed off his Doc Martins, removed the new pair of pants, and returned to Dean, wearing only the other man’s favorite pair of boxers.

Using his elbows for momentum, Sébastien felt over the stiff joints. He started to hum softly, and that transitioned into soft, melodious singing. Sébastien’s hand trailed lazily down Dean’s arms, befoee he swooped down and planted a kiss to the back of Dean’s shoulder blade. His soft kisses trailed up to Dean’s ear, continuing across his jawline, where Sébastien nibbled softly. Dean lifted his hand, brushing his fingers through Sébastien’s new fade, as he beckoned Sébastien to come around.

Sébastien complied with his instructions, turning off the TV, then standing directly in front of Dean. He allowed the man’s hand to reach for his smooth torso and pull him down. Sébastien giggled like a schoolgirl, as he straddled the elder man, leaning over and pressing his soft lips to Dean’s, as he continued to strip for him, while Dean's fingers purposefully trailed over Sébastien's lightly defined abs.

The next morning, Sébastien got ready to fly back to Lima with over $1000 in gifts, hair cuts, and shopping, as well as $1500 in hard cash.

#fairytales #para; self

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amnachil · 5 years

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The College Society Chapter 2 Part 8

This is the last part !

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey Thursday January 10 – Friday January 11

It was his last exam. The Dean's grandson finished it easily. He was sure to pass anyway. When he went out, he glimpsed Theo. The bastard was waiting for him. What the hell does he want ?

"Hey buddy." he said with a grin. "You have a minute ?"

"Make it thirty seconds, I don't have the fuckin' time to talk with you."

"Okay. I'll chase Liam after all. I want him."

"You want him."

You greedy pig. Fuckin' asshole. Dickhead. I don't know enough curses to qualify you. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey just smiled dangerously. This bally fucker.

"And why are you suddenly interested ? You failed month ago to get him."

"That's right, but I think I can be in luck now. I have some... advantage. And damn, he became so hot during christmas. Hunky but chunky. I love it. Sorry, you were too slow. He's mine now."

The blond lad just laughed. He laughed so loud that all the students around heard him.

"You're a little swaggerer Theophile. Are you seriously defying me ?"

"Hell yes."

Not that far ago, you were begging me just to have the right to suck my cock. You'll regret this overconfidence. Liam had faced a hunter way more dangerous than Theo. He survived to this Raphaël dude, he can beat a fucking swimteam captain like you too.

"You don't ask what's my plan ?" wondered the law student.

"Sorry but... since you're not a real opponent, I don't care." replied the Dean's grandson.

"Really ? Well, considering you're hunting him for more than one month now, I can only suppose you are rusty. Maybe the best hunter just failed. Maybe he isn't the best anymore."

"And maybe you are missing my dick so much you want it again ? Who knows ? I'm done with your bullshit for today. Bye."

The next morning came quickly. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey didn't sleep well, because he and his spy Nancy made some research about Theo. And they discovered something really interesting and important. Maybe he have a fucking advantage after all. After that, Nancy and him had had sex, and so he had slept only four or five hours. Anyway, he got some business to make. The faster, the better. The Dean's grandson met Steve Callagan, the head of the music club, in his room. He had just finished a breakfast apparently. There were one thing or two to know about the guy. He was a watcher hunter. He loved to see two chicks or one guy one girl have sex. No gay tho. Never understood why. Two guys, two dicks, it can be funny. And Steve had, like Theo, an official girlfriend, the lovely Bettany. Her name is a porn in itself. Anyway, they were cute together, except Bettany was a chubby chaser and fattened the musician quite a bit. There're more people liking meaty partner than you would say at the first sigh. Myself included some time.

"You want something Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey ?" asked Steve when they were alone.

"I heard you had two tickets for this famous movie saturday. I want them." he commanded. "A porn tape in exchange ? I have recorded a lot of stuff during the holidays, including a sexy delivery girl. Exactly your taste."

"I'm sorry dude but... Matthew Davos from the swimteam already gave me a video of himself and this black runner chick. I took it against a concert ticket. And now Betty really wants to see the movie."

For god sake. Who care about a stupid black girl who looks like an elephant and a little thief ?

"Give me those ticket or I swear to god I'm going to find Bettany straight away and I'll fuck her so hard that she'll be unable to walk for a week. Then I'll be back there and you'll suck my fuckin' dick until you couldn't blow in this stupid tuba of yours. Okay ?"

And Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey got the tickets.

Liam Saturday Januray 12

When he finished his lenghts at the pool, the chestnut lad took a deep breath and went to see Colton. Exams were over and this afternoon, Dami invited him to see a movie. He hadn't much time to discuss with his friend, but he intented to help him as much as possible. But I hope he'll not talk about my past... Colton was currently stretching. Normally, Christmas was the perfect time to be slacking a bit. (Liam did. He had lost a bit of definition but he was working out again now). (It might be the reason why all those girls were accosting him at the gym or the pool). (But he always tried to avoid them, because he suspected the witch to be among the crowd). Anyway, Colton as for him was as handsome as ever. Well-built, not too strong, not too thin. He hadn't the single bit of fat on him. (To Liam, it was a lost, but whatever).

"Hey buddy." started the chestnut lad. "How went your exams ?"

"Good I think." replied his friend. "But I wasn't as focused as I wanted to."

"Why that ?"

Liam decided to play it dumb. It was better than talking about Leila who had threatened him. (She was the evil twin, obviously).

"Barbara cheated on me, and then she left me." Colton confessed with sadness. "She said it was better this way."

Of course, the dark-haired lad was too diplomat to say something mean. He had a sweet tone, even when he announced bad news. Liam suspected him to be half teddy bear. (Teddies Bears were alive, yes, and sometimes they sent a child in the human's world). Anyway, the lad was disgressing. He was here to help his friend.

"Maybe I can do something about it ?" he asked. "Wait, did you said she cheated on you ?"

(Yeah, it took a long time before Liam realised what it meant).

"She didn't say with who, but I'm guessing someone important at the university, cuz right after, she became the future head of the student union. When this girl, Summer, will finish her mandate, they will present Barbara as their favourite candidate. Anyway, I think we can't do much about this. I'm going to swim now, see you later."

Well, she liked to be the class delegate in highschool after all... Liam had suddenly an idea. He could probably know who was the guy in question. He just had to ask Dami. (He was pretty sure this one was important for the university). (He once had said something about the Dean, but Liam didn't remenber well). And then, maybe he could work on something.

Speaking of the devil, he met Dami on the early afternoon for a movie. His blond friend carried with him a bag filled with something, but he didn't say what. They entered in the theater and took their sit.

"You'll see, it's a good movie." assured Dami. "And there, I cooked this. Tell me if you like it."

He offered a cake. Two month ago, Liam would have declined. (At least try, because his friend had some authority). But now, he glady ate it. The film went like this. It really was good. And the chestnut lad consumed everything Dami gave him. He just didn't realised how much it was. There were all kind of pastries, crusty and spongy, with cream, jam or chocolate. In Liam mind, they were both eating peacefully. Yet, at some point he discreetly slipped a hand beneath his shirt and rubbed his belly. He was rather bloated. (It didn't stop him to eat whatever Dami offered tho). Eventually, he realised his tum was very swollen. Looks like I'm stuffed. I ate more than I thought. For a moment, Dami stopped. The movie was almost over when something happen. But Liam didn't realised it happen until the end. When he was about to stand up, he noticed his friend was holding his free hand. Oh.

"I asked you if it was fine." whispered the blond lad. "And you said nothing."

His eyes were showing a mix of excitment and cautiousness. Liam hesitated a second. What does this mean exactly ? Maybe Nate is right. Maybe Dami saw this as a date. But was it a problem ? Liam didn't know the answer at this question. He soflty took his hand off.

"Don't worry, I'm okay with it." he said. "Can you tell me something ?"

His friend frowned, but nodded.

"You probably know Barbara Henrion ? Is there a chance you know who slept with her and offered her a favor afterwards ?"

"She had sex with Javier Esposito, the vice-president of the student union." answered quickly Dami. "This one told me about this. But you know, they're all sleeping with each other in this union."

"Well thank you. And thank you for the movie and the snacks. You really are an awesome chef dude. I have to go to work now so... see you soon."

Liam then joined the night shift of Pasta's Place, as usual. The work happened to be a bit difficult with a full belly, but he managed to do well. Judy checked on him at least ten times. She said he must be careful at everytime of the night and the day. According to her, there was some guy who might corrupt him. (Liam supposed she was referring to some minions sent by the forces of chaos). Anyway, before going to bed, the lad called Nate. Luckily, this one wasn't partying this time, just chillin' at his place. They rapidly talked about Dami, obviously.

"To my opinion, you should give it a try." suggested his bestfriend. "I mean, you deserve a bit of happiness after all what happened. And I think you're ready now, you got enough time since your ex. Plus Damian sounds cool."

"I don't know man. Maybe I'll ruin everything like last time. I don't feel confident yet..."

"Dude, you were in highschool, it was your very first relationship with another boy and he had a lot of issue on his own." reminded Nate. "Damian is two years older than you. He's certainly more mature. It'll be different. It has to be."

Liam nodded slowly. As always, his soulmate was right. But he needed to go slowly. I mean, I don't know Dami that much after all... I must take my time.

"I bet you nodded." whispered Nate. "You know I can't see you through the phone right ?"

Rebecca Monday January 14 LAST PART

She never thought things would change like this, in such a short amount of time. Emilio didn't show up ever again. Of course, she still met him during the University's training. But he avoided her. Bob noticed, but said nothing. In fact, there was one thing her coach didn't know. Rebecca was now dating Matthew. Like Chelsea. They were both with him. It's a nonsense but I don't know. I feel good with him. He was kind, way more than she thought. He also was protective. She felt at ease with him. And god know how supportive he was. When she had been dating Emilio, they were used to talk about running. But he had never encouraged her like Matt did. Chelsea and her were the best among the team, and he was proud of it. He didn't hide his love for both of them. And the weirdest thing ? Sex with the blond lad and Chelsea was awesome. Way different than everything she had try before. The man led the ride, and she was glad with it. I know it only has been six days since we started but... I wonder why I hated him in the first place. He had admitted he was jealous of her at first but it had evolved in feelings for her. So basically, Matthew had a crush and regretted what he had done so he decided to help her. And now they were dating, the three of them together. It was weird, but Rebecca wasn't disliking it.

This evening, during the swim training, she couldn't stop herself staring at her new boyfriend. His tight swimsuit highlighted his handsome body. She had learnt he was 182 cm (6'0") for quite a chunky 77 kg (170 lbs). He was muscular but thick, and she loved it. Liam and Theo might be the only in the pool who could rivalise, despite being both thinner.

"You're looking at Matt with a lot of admiration." pointed out Laura. "Maybe you wanna told me somethin' ?"

"Not really. I was just watching."

"Yeah, watching eh." laughed the petite blonde. "You know, since you broke up with Emilio, you can find another man but... Matthew is with Chelsea. And not your type to be honest. A bit too cocky I think."

"You must be right."

It was what she had thought at the beginning of the year. But he saved her from Emilio. And she liked his confidence eventually. He wasn't a bad guy. Laura continued :

"Anyway, I have another topic to talk about... Promise me you won't be mad."

"Who can against you ? You're so lovely."

"Thanks for that. So... I know things aren't fine between Nick and you. And at first, I thought it was none of my business but... I can stand it anymore. I think you're wrong, since the very outset. I mean, he helped you on several occasion, and yeah, he's a smart aleck, but he was always there for you. And you, what did you do exactly ?"

Rebecca opened her mouth but... nothing came out. She had no good excuse. I was just too proud to admit I was wrong. Their argument started when she had tried to change him. I did that in order to make him conform to my standards. It's not fair.

"You're right." she admitted. "The blame is on me. But what should I do now ? Our friendship is completely over. And you know what ?"

"Hum ?"

"I don't care anymore. Before, when I dated Emilio, I felt guilty but not anymore. I think I understood how works the college society."

"Really ?"

"Hunt, or be hunted, as simple as that." Rebecca affirmed. "I found a pack, and now, I'm ready to be on the hunter side. Nick isn't my concern anymore."

To be continued

And so here we are...

Congratulations Rebecca, you’re now a hunter ! She’s free from Emilio and she found something meaningful for her. Let’s say she’s perfectly fitting in the College Society now ;)

As for Liam well, seems like feeding him was the good choice ! What can make him happier than a full tummy I wonder ? But Damian can still screw this up for sure... And the war with Theo only begins !

Like last time, The College Society will be on hiatus for two or three weeks. Chapter 3 will be longer, and we’ll have a new character POV !

In the meantime, you can read To the Perfection, my other weight gain story !

#the college society #cs #Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey #Liam #Rebecca #stuffing #Liam's heart IS his stomach #Last chapter of Rebecca #Goodbye girl #chapter 2 #part 8

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kaescarribean-blog · 5 years

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week one.

Hi - a little introduction for me: I’m Kaelynn, and I am a rising junior at the University of South Carolina! This semester, however, I’m missing beloved football season and taking a semester in St. Thomas, USVI, through the National Student Exchange program (NSE). Today is Saturday, August 17th, so that means I’ve been here for four days now, although it seems just a million times longer than that. I was so incredibly nervous for this trip for the two weeks leading up to it, with fear and anxiety that I wouldn’t make any friends, that I wouldn’t be able to find my way to the school, that I wouldn’t pack enough (I didn’t, so that was a valid fear), and everything in between. Now that I’m here, thats almost entirely out the window, and I could not be more happy or grateful for this experience!

tues. aug 13:

actually, this was my birthday. I was a little sad, because I would be without any friends or family, so I wasn’t too happy about this. I woke up at 4 am and drove to Logan intl in Boston, and the next thing I knew I was awkwardly walking around the airport trying to carry the three suitcases and backpack I had on me alone, scared, and very nervous. However, a good 6 hours later and I had already landed in St. Thomas. The airport was very small, with only two carousels for baggage claim. Because of this, a group of the NSE students found each other right off the bat and were lucky enough to grab a taxi together to the school. While this was a little difficult due to us not having a lot of info from housing, being among other people who I knew were just as confused as I was was surprisingly comforting. It was a familiar anxiety and excitement, exactly like being a freshman at USC was at first. We checked in and began setting up our dorms, and it wasn’t long before we met multiple other NSE kids as well - one being my suitemate (and now roommate, but that’s another story). The girls that I had met earlier came by my room and asked us to come to Kmart, which is the big store on the island for anything you need, and so we did. We took safaris there, which are essentially pickup trucks with benches and some windows in the back. They drive on the opposite side of the road, and roads are incredibly narrow, but the safari drivers never seem to notice and drive fast and precisely weaving throughout the island. In Kmart we noticed everything was a lot more expensive than on the mainland (what everyone calls the continental US here) - a pair of twin sheets cost something like 60 bucks! Another kid bought a can of peanuts for 7! This was a little worrisome, but we’ve come to know that everyyyyything here is pretty much expensive because it has to be imported. Gas here is 3.77 a gallon. I rest my case. We got to know some more NSE kids, got some stuff for our dorm, ate dinner together at the mediocre cafeteria, and then, when we were about to go to bed, we remembered something. The beach!! Our school has one within like a 3 minute walking distance, so we decided to rally everyone up, and get down to the water. It was amazing. The water was so warm and we could see clearly down to our feet even though it was pitch black outside, and it started to seem like things were going to turn out juuuuust fine here.

wed. aug 14:

Today, we had orientation. Then, we had orientation. After we had lunch, then some more orientation. Not much happened here besides just talking more to the NSE kids and getting to know everyone better, and throwing together an intense snapchat group (a lot of kids don’t have their service working for their phones) ((mine has been working the entire time, thank god for verizon)). When we finally finished up at orientation, I think we went to the beach? It feels like a million days has passed already, but I know I’ve gone everyday, which has been amazing. After this, we found out it was “ladies night” at a place downtown, so we all hopped in some insanely overpriced taxis and headed out. We stayed there for 6 hours, and we all got to know each other that much better. I may be developing an affinity to reggae music.

thurs. aug 15:

Again, lots of orienting to do. We had a convocation ceremony that my roommate and I decided to take advantage of island time for, and showed up a few hours late. We were so tired this was the way to go for us, and we still got to hear the president’s speech and talk to our college deans, so we didn’t miss much. Compared to USC’s 26,362 student body, UVI has 2,138. This is wayyyy different from what I’m used to, but kind of nice because you can talk to the president or your dean with incredible ease - they even gave out their cell phone numbers. I’ve never even seen my dean of college, even when I needed her to sign something I had to go through someone else to get it done! We had an NSE meeting finally so we could get some more information about the island and all the happenings of the next few days, and we did ice breakers in the beginning, but honestly, at this point it felt like looking around the room I was friends with everyone already and knew at least a thing or two about each of them. We’ve got a good group -- we want to meet some more locals, but honestly even though everyone says that all the people here are friendly, we’ve experienced some stand offishness from many of the local students on campus, so its comforting to at least have each other for now. We went to the beach around 4, I think, and some kids went snorkling and saw turltes and sting rays and lots of other fish, right in Brewers Bay! This is the beach we can walk to in a few minutes, so it’s nice to know we can always go here and get good snorkling! By the end of this day, I was exhausted, and got to do some more unpacking and organizational stuff that I hadn’t had a chance for before. Then, I went to bed. I felt tired, warmed by the sun, and overwhelmingly content.

fri. aug 16:

We had another early morning today as we were catching some safaris at 9 am on a university led island tour. Of course, on island time this meant not a soul was there at 9 am but rather everyone finally strolled in at 9:30, so we left then. Everyone at home talks about island time as if it’s relaxing, however honestly a few of us if not most are finding it kind of irritating and hard to plan around. If you come here, you’ve got to got to got to got to let that go and prepare yourself to play things by ear and go with the flow. On our island tour we saw the most amazing views - from a skyline view to another beach called Coki, to the top of the mountain, we were all saying “whoa” more times than can be counted. I went on a bus that had more locals than NSE students, so I got to learn so much from them including things like eating this fruit off a tree we passed, to the fact that half the island used to be a beach. We got home from this around 1pm, the earliest we’d been released all week, so we decided to again go down to Brewers Bay for some beach time. We were there for about 6 hours, from swimming to snorkling to laying out and walking around, we never got bored. We all decided to stay until sunset (which happens extremely early here to our disdain at a cool 6:45), and the sky put on a beautiful show for us. Everything is so beautiful that it looks like a post card. After this we showered and headed to a movie night held by the university and ate hamburgers there, and relaxed at the rec center for a while playing pool and dominos. Then, one of our friends roommate who is a friendly local took us out to show us this cool lookout where you could see stars, the entire university, the beach, and even some heat lightening (which the local said wasn’t heat lightening, but I think it must have been and they just don’t call it that). We threw together a plan to go to another island, St. John, and then went to bed to rest up for it. It was another night going to bed feeling so de-stressed and happy.

sat. aug 17:

We’ve finally caught up with today! Going to St. John was unreal. We caught the 11 o’clock fast ferry out in Red Hook - the city part of town, which you have to take a safari or taxi to get to. As a side note, safaris are our - and I think everyone’s - preferred method of transportation because it is so much cheaper and honestly a better experience. Safaris are $1 if you remain on the west side (I think) of the island in the “country”, and $2 once you drive over the incredibly steep Rapoon Hill that brings you into the “city”. Then, we caught the local price of the ferry at only $12 roundtrip, and we were on our way! When we got there, there were many taxi drivers coming up to those coming off the ferry asking if we needed rides, so we got one very quickly and he helped us get to a beach that he thought was beautiful, fun, and what we were looking for. I don’t think I know what it was called, but it was exactly what he described! The water is the most amazing blue you’ve ever seen, and it simply has not worn off yet the beauty of everything that I’ve been surrounded and swallowed up into. We swam here and hung out all day. A while later, our taxi driver came to retrieve us, and brought us back into town. We all got some fries at a place called Tap and Still, due to the fact that we hadn’t eaten since 8:30 am and it was now around 4, and they were some of the absolute best I’ve ever had. Either that, or I was just insanely hungry. The ferry ride back was all of 14 minutes, and then we got another 45 minute safari back to campus. They stop running around 6:30/7pm (again, you don’t really know because of island time), so we wanted to come back in order to catch one in time. During the ride, it started down pouring, and because of how fast we were going rain was coming in through the windows slightly in the front bench and near the sides, so those of us that were sitting there got a bit soaked and then were freezing because of how cold it was! Never thought I’d be cold here, coming from Mass, but today I was definitely proved wrong. Then we got dinner, showered, and we’ve been in bed since. As has been the theme of this week, now I feel extremely tired, but over the moon happy and excited and mind blown and thankful that I will be spending my next four months in this place, with these people.

#PICS to go along with this week ~ next post

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gobigorgohome2016 · 6 years

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Fitness Check: Tobacco Road Half Marathon

Race weekends are so weird. I will never understand how time can move so quickly, yet so slowly, in the span of 48 hours.

Today I raced the Tobacco Road Half Marathon in Cary, North Carolina. Everything about this weekend seemed to embody the dichotomy of fast and slow.

I arrived in NC early Friday afternoon, around 11 AM. I think this race was first on my radar because my teammate, Andie Cozzarelli, lives in Raleigh and mentioned it to me the last time she raced the Indy Monumental Marathon. My main motivation for choosing races this year was to choose ones where I could win money.

In the past chasing cash has scared me, because I have been afraid of the gnawing anger / frustration / embarrassment / resentment when the race doesn’t go the way I had hoped, and I don’t win the money I had anticipated. There is also a factor where trying to win money, and then losing it, makes it feel more real, and scary in a way. Which is something I need to confront.

Friday was a lot of fun. Andie and I went for a run, watched approximately 30,000 episodes of Friends, then went out to dinner at an Italian restaurant in downtown Raleigh. I had possibly the best seafood risotto I have ever tasted, paired with a delicious red wine. Afterwards we watched more Friends. What I love about my Haute Volee teammates is that they have pretty seamlessly filled the gap that was left after college during racing weekends. Whenever Andie and I are together we run, do a little bit of work, watch some tv, eat, and talk to the point of exhaustion – just like my college days with my roommates.

Saturday I joined Andie for the end of her long run, then we headed over to the cutest coffee shop I have ever seen for a volee meet up. A friend of mine who I hadn’t seen since high school lives in Raleigh, and we got together for lunch at a Japanese restaurant. I ordered pho, solely for the reason that this time last year I went out to dinner with the ZAP Fitness team in Jacksonville and ate pho before running a PR.

After parting ways with my friend, I took an uber to my hotel. One of very few perks of Dave traveling all the time is that he can hook me up with Mariott hotels when I am out of town. I was able to have a suite with a kitchen. By the time I checked in at 2 PM, I only had 3 hours before the expo closed and I had to pick up my packet (no race day packet pick up). I still needed another short run, and the expo was 2.5 miles away, so I naturally ran there. Except, there was no sidewalk. So I ran on the shoulder of a super busy and scary road. #fail

By the time I got back to my hotel, I was pretty exhausted. Even though I had really done nothing in the past 24 hours, I also felt like I had done everything. I still needed to find some groceries, because I had already eaten the pre-race breakfast I had packed. #secondfail

Grocery stores were really far away, but, Instacart exists in Cary! Many struggles and 45 minutes of indecision later, I finally place my order for 18 larabars (literally), yogurt, two blood oranges, a box of instant oatmeal, 3 bananas, a beer, a dark chocolate bar, two kombuchas, and a small carton of orange juice. Why did I order 18 larabars? Well, I either could choose to pay $10 for delivery, or reach a certain threshold for free delivery. 18 larabars it was.

I watched Loyola upset Tennessee, then excitedly got ready for bed because I was SO TIRED. I had no idea the race was at 7 AM, which meant a 4 AM wake up call. I turned off the lights at 9, but then COULDN’T FALL ASLEEP. Normally, sleeping the night before a race is not a problem for me. I wasn’t even thinking about the race, I just couldn’t fall asleep once I turned out the lights. First the room was too hot. Then I had to switch around my pillows. Then I had to go to the bathroom. Then the room was too cold. Then every single person who walked down the hallway sounded like an elephant. Then I started my period and was having cramps (seriously, my last 10 of 14 races I have started my period within 24 hours of the race. It’s bizarre). I remember looking at the clock at 2 AM and thinking to myself, just get 90 minutes of sleep.

Even though I didn’t get a good night’s rest, I woke up feeling pretty good. I had my breakfast and watched MTV. I’ve had to give up coffee before races because I don’t think it does anything for me. Instead, I drink green tea. I packed a hand-made tea bag of roasted green tea that I bought in San Francisco for my morning cuppa.

My friend, Tim, picked me up at 5 AM to head over to the start. You know what’s cool about racing competitively? You accumulate friends all across the country who are willing to do things like drive out of their way to pick you up.

The next part is pretty standard: talk with your runner friends while waiting for the start, use the porta potty 30 times, run warm up, do drills, take off clothes, pee in the woods because the porta potty line is too long, do some strides, get nervous, gun goes off, fall into rhythm.

Funny story: the Tobacco Road is a crushed gravel trail. Basically, this race weekend was the most type B weekend of my life. I had no idea it was a trail race because I didn’t read the website. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have done the race had I realized, but fortunately “trail” meant a nice crushed limestone / hard-packed dirt, tree-lined path.

The course elevation map looked hilly. I thought the race was going to be hilly. Then people told me, no! the course if very fast and flat! I have determined that when you have a race in your hometown, you decide it is either the hardest, hilliest race in the country, or the flattest and fastest. Well, this race was neither. The first 2.5 miles (and subsequently the final 2.5 miles) were moderate rollers, while the middle miles on the tobacco trail were long, gradual inclines / declines. There were a few areas that were more treacherous than others, but nothing worse than that random gravel path we had to run down at the Trials.

My plan had been to start at 5:45 effort and make adjustments as necessary. Fortunately we warmed up on the first mile of the course so I realized that 5:45 effort was going to be significantly slower, because of both the wind and the hill. My first mile was ~5:52 (I think). I had overheard eventual race winner talking on the line with someone and make plans to go for 73ish min. My plan was to let her go, then reassess the situation at 4 miles and figure out what I needed to do to catch her. Meanwhile, within the first mile it became apparent there was going to be a struggle for second. A woman was right with me, and surging hard to try and drop me.

photo cred: Andie. Taken ~2.5 mi into the race before the wheels fell off

A big goal of mine this year has been to compete more. To be honest, I don’t love this situation. I am very comfortable running alone. I don’t love to do battle at the time (of course if I come out on top I’ll tell you otherwise). So, every time she made a surge, I went with her and then put in a surge of my own. I did this 4 or 5 times before dropping her for good, around the 6 mile mark. Splits that I remember: 3 miles, 17:30, 4 miles: 23:04; 5 miles: 28:50, 6.6 miles: 38:00. The way back was a death march of sorts. I’m not sure what happened. Certainly the way back had more long, gradual climbs, which are not as easy for me as steep hills (they never have been; I think it’s just the way my body is built and the fact that I grew up training in the dunes). Also, I definitely thought the wind was in my face on the way out, but it turns out it was most certainly in my face after the turnaround (there was talk of a shifting wind conspiracy. I would have to agree).

Something I noticed during the race was that I was far less concerned about where I was on the course because my only goal in the short term was to stay in 2nd place. I knew that I was gaining on first, but I was also on the struggle bus myself. There was a very real feeling at mile 8 of just get through 1k at a time.

Final finishing time: 1:17:43.

Am I happy with that? No. To be honest, I am pretty disappointed. But, I also realize I am incredibly fortunate to be able to say that a sub-78 minute half marathon is a “disappointment,” especially when I earned enough money to cover a student loan payment, a car payment, and a couple weeks of groceries. It’s also a matter of perspective. When I was training for my PR marathon, I ran a 5 mile road race 7 weeks before Twin Cities. I ran 28:45 and was beyond ecstatic with a new PR. Today, I went through 5 miles in 28:50 and still had 8.1 miles to go. 7 weeks out from the trials I ran 1:17:19 on a course that was flat and didn’t have gravel. To quote Brene Brown, the middle is messy, but that’s where the magic happens.

I have had quite a few setbacks recently. It’s hard to acknowledge setbacks, but also not allow them to let you feel like you’re spiraling out of control.

My coach reminded me today that I strive way too hard for perfection, when all I have to be is good.

Regardless, I asked Coach Dean if I could set up an appointment with him this week, because I think a mental game tune-up never hurts.

Even though I consider myself a highly Type A person, I did a whole lot of Type B things this weekend:

-have no idea I was running a trail race

-have no idea what time the trail race started (there was a point in time where I banned myself from running 7 AM races because it requires waking up at 4 AM…)

-wait to get my bib number until the last possible minute, then get stuck running down a highway

-forget to grab my gels when I went to the starting line

The great thing, though, is that none of this bothered me. I think there was a point in time where I would have freaked the f*ck out if any one of these things happened, let alone all of them.

So, what would I have done differently? Absolutely nothing. 77:43 is where I’m at right now. It’s not the worst place in the world to be, that’s for sure. I wish I was faster, but all I can do about that is keep working and making the right investments into my training.

#marathontraining oisellevolee

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astoldbyacertifiedunicorn · 7 years

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Japril Appreciation Week: Day 5 ⇒ AU or a scene you wish happened

slightly m rated?

"Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." She paused, smiling graciously towards her class, "Does anyone want to tell me where that's from?"

It was her first official class and she was more than enthusiastic to start the classes this year. Classic literature; the subject that had enamored her since the first time she had studied it. Being the nerdy bookworm that she was a child, her nose in a book at every waking moment, literature had been her reprieve. Books took her away from her reality. In books, she had friends and she could be anyone she wanted to be. Plus, a subject where one had to read poetry and novels and short stories for school work? Yes please. It's what she did on a daily basis anyway. Her love for it had only grown and had eventually pushed her to pursue it academically, and after that professionally.

She was a published author of 2 bestselling free verse poetry books and had the absolute pleasure of lecturing at Columbia University as a senior lecturer of the literature department. She loved her work. She loved educating young children, see the spark in their eyes as they discover poets they relate to, novels that they can't put down and pieces of work that makes them lose hope in humanity and simultaneously gain it. John Keating had been right. The things beyond literature were all noble pursuits, necessary for sustenance, but literature was love, it was friendship, it was life. It was impertinent.

She pointed to a very pretty brunette in the front row, who was waving her hand enthusiastically, reminding her of herself.

"Dead Poet's Society. It's the movie that convinced me to take this course." She replied, smiling widely.

"That's wonderful, Miss ..."

"Hinks. Lora Hinks."

She smiled at the girl and continued on, "Everyone one of you had a book, movie, piece of poetry or even person that inspired you to consider this course. For me it was, as clichè as this may sound, Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet to be precise. You see-"

She went on to explain her reasoning, reiterating the perfectly prepared speech she delivers in every first class, when she heard a small cough sound from behind her. She outwardly rolled her eyes, knowing exactly whom it was that had interrupted her.

"Professor Avery. What can I do for you?" She asked, false niceness oozing from her voice.

"Professor Kepner, I am here to observe your class. Were you not made aware of my being here?" He replies, stepping into the classroom, earning a few rounds of gasps from students who had clearly being waiting for an opportunity to see their devastatingly handsome Dean once more.

April, having gotten used to people's reactions towards her colleague, rolled her eyes once more.

"No, actually, I wasn't made aware. So if you don't mind-"

"Oh well, must have slipped my mind." He says, his careless tone accompanied by a cold smile.

She could sense the students starting to understand that there was a hostile tension between the two, some cocking their eyebrows in confusion, unable to understand why their beautiful Dean had to be a jerk to the most loved member of the faculty. Professor Kepner's kindness was as popular knowledge as their Dean's cold, disengaged attitude. The latter seemingly more obvious with the way he was treating her.

"I'm sure it did." She muttered, although loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Well, Professor Kepner, carry on." He waved a hand, walking up the steps of the lecture halls and taking a seat in an empty row.

"Um, yes, where was I? Okay, let's see ..." She was clearly flustered, her annoyance at his actions painstakingly clear.

"You were telling us how Shakespeare inspired you." Lora whispered.

"Oh yes, thank you. Anyway-"

"Quite forgetful, aren't we Professor?"

"No I am not. I am merely-"

"Distracted? From the moment I walked in. Hm, I wonder why-"

"There's no need to wonder, Professor. I was ... distracted, for a lack of a better word, because barging into a classroom unannounced is highly unprofessional. But I wonder why you forgot to inform me of your presence today. Old age, perhaps?" She remarked, smiling innocently at him.

She heard a few concealed snickers from the crowd although some students were too gob smacked, clearly wondering if she was insane enough to risk her career by back talking the Dean.

He wasn't by any means old. He was actually only 5 years her senior. However, his family having made considerable donations to the university overtime had ensured that by the time the old Dean had retired, he would be hired for the job, although he lacked the experience. She knew, whatever said and done, he hadn't wanted the job out of nepotism. She knew hating him for that reason was unwarranted.

"Continue." He merely said, and she grinned knowing she had won this one.

"I actually hated Romeo and Juliet. It's true. I thought, God how stupid could they be? Dying for someone you knew all of 3 days? Falling in love to that capacity when you were 14? 16? No. So I came to the conclusion that Shakespeare was overrated." She stated, seeing a collective surprise for such a bold statement, even from the one person she was trying very hard to ignore.

"Until I realised, what if... what if Romeo and Juliet was actually a satirical commentary on lust filled teenage relationships? Not a love story at all, but a story about how insipid young love truly is. The possibility opened my mind to the realization that literature is yours to discover. You adapt it to fit your mold and I loved that."

She finished, looking on to see her student's allowing that interpretation to sink in. She loved it when she reached through to them.

"A bit of a cynic, aren't we?" Jackson asked, scoffing at her analysis.

"I'm sorry, I almost forgot you were there for a minute," she replied, "and no, I am not a cynic. I more or so believe that Shakespeare is capable of portraying love better, take his-"

"Sonnet 124? Let me not to the marriage?"

She doesn't know why she's surprised. His brilliance wasn't a point of contention, it was even part of his charm.

"Yes, but-"

"And you're saying teenagers can't feel that way, because?" He questioned, eyebrow raised and a cocky grin to boot.

"Because," she stammered, angry at herself for letting him rile her up, "Teenage relationships are transcendent. They are not made to last. They are lustful, driven strongly by hormones and rom-com expectations of romance."

"Well, aren't we bitter?" He says, eyebrows raised, standing up from his chair.

"I'm not-I'm not bitter, I'm just being ... realistic." She feels the heat rise to her cheeks, mostly because she hates admitting to herself that he may be partially right.

"Hm, but you are. Let me guess, failed high school romance or ... boys scared you too much, Miss Kepner?" He teases, and she knows he's not being malicious because she knows he's addressing her virgin status she had kept until she'd met him, because there was no way he knew about her high school days. Maybe he does, she thought, maybe it was just that obvious to anyone. She just hadn't ever expected him to be one of them.

So she strikes back, best way she knows how, even though she knows right now she's going to regret the moment she does.

"Well you would know quite a lot about dating a teenager wouldn't you, Professor?"

The dead silence in the room doesn't help. She knows some of them had heard the rumours, and she can see their eyes widening at the boldness of her accusation and the curiousness of those who were unaware.

She doesn't let herself look at him, because she knows she screwed up, but then decides that she needs to know the extent of his anger to fully deduce the damage she's done.

She can see a mixture of emotions in his perfect face. Suprise, anger, hurt and the worst of all, betrayal. She wants to run her fingers over his forehead and smooth the frown he's sporting although his eyes have changed colour like they also do depending on his mood. They're an angry black now and she knows she shouldn't have expected any less.

"I will see you at the meeting this evening, Professor." He finally says, exiting the room without a momentary glance her way.

She wants to run after him, aplogise furiously for what she said, let him know she only suspects the truth of that statement in her most insecure moments but quickly dispels it because she knows he's too good for it to be true. But she can't, she has a class awaiting her to continue to the lecture, maybe even comment on the situation and she's not ready to face him. She's hurt too.

They only pretended to be snarky, so that no one would even suspect their alliance, which was formed one night, a couple of months back, when she had been in his office, late, surrounded by mountains of papers. It had been building up since she’d first met him at his welcome dinner. The sum of the looks shared and intense gazes held for too long was her skirt on the floor and the warmth of a fireplace next to her exposed skin.

It was supposed to be easy, fun, nothing too overwhelming. Yet here she was, scared because she's found herself doing the one thing she said she wouldn't when she started sleeping with the Dean; fall for him and fall for him hard.

She's pretty sure the approval for the arts department in her budget isn't an 'I forgive you.' She's not really sure what it is. Maybe it really doesn't have anything to do with her. Although, she knows that's not true. She knows he loves her enthusiasm for her subject and when it comes to approving the funds she rarely asks for, he's always been willing. Even before all of... this. Maybe it's a guilt trip. If it is, then mission accomplished.

"Hi, Izzie. Is Professor Avery free? I need to run some papers by him." She smiles warmly at his gorgeous secretary, who sits right outside her office in her beautiful pencil skirt and pink blouse that never creases. She's always been a slight insecure when it comes to her, but Izzie has always been warm, kind and loving. And if she'd ever thought about why her of all people would make such constant visits to the Dean she supposedly hated, she didn't let it show.

"Um, you know what, let me check." She smiles back, but April can tell she's not as willing to help her out as she usually is. Jackson is a good friend of hers, beyond the fact that they're colleagues. And he's her husband Alex's best friend. She'd understand her picking her loyalties.

She gets up and walks off, and April digs her heels into the carpeted floor, and runs her hands across the wooden desk. She feels the guilt coming back up again, and she pushes it down. She crossed a line, she knew that. But, she's hoping he forgives her, because she's really starting to need him to.

After what seems like a good 20 minutes or so, right before April decides that maybe it's all over, and she screwed everything up like she always does, Izzie's head pops out of the door.

"You can come in." She says, and holds the door open for her.

April walks into the room, familiar and warm, with the fireplace and the large mahogany desk she's very accustomed to, and the leather couch she's even more accustomed to. She glances at him and her heart races. He's sat at the desk, but he's not looking up from his paperwork.

"Thanks Izzie, you can go home. Tell Alex I'll drop by later." He says, still concentrating heavily on his work.

"Sure thing. Good night, boss," Izzie replies and turns towards her, "Professor Kepner."

April whispers a quick goodnight, and almost wants Izzie to turn back and stay here, but she walks out the door and closes it behind her.

She takes a deep breath and turns towards him.

"Leave the papers on my desk." He says, his usual kindness lost to a clipped tone.

"Um, okay." She walks towards him, hands in the 2 papers she brought with her as an excuse. She could've very well just ask her TA to hand them in.

She walks up to his desk, and she notices how he shoots her a quick look, but stares back down. She sighs, realizing this is probably how he's going to be for the rest of the night. Maybe she should've waited.

She opens her mouth to say her carefully planned apology, when he looks up at her all of a sudden. She's naked under his gaze, and this time he's not looking at her in desire. He's angry, and a little sad.

"Is that all?"

"Uh-"

"Okay then, goodnight Professor Kepner."

He glances away from her as quickly as he looks at her, and she's back to awkwardly standing in front of his desk. She bows her head down, and turns away. There's no point to it now.

She walks back a few steps, and suddenly turns to him. She won't leave without at least an explanation. If she'd screwed it up, he needs to know why.

"Duckie."

He looks up at her, confused, wondering if she'd said anything at all. He raises a brow and April realizes that she just said one word and he probably thinks she's crazy.

"That-that's what they called me. In high school. Duckie." She avoids his gaze, looking down at her hands, but she can tell he's listening.

So she continues, "It's for.... it's for ugly duckling. I had braces, and acne and I had no idea how to condition my hair for the longest time. I was.... duckie. So no, boys didn't like me. They didn't even look at me. I actually preferred that, really. Because when they did look at me, it was to let me know how unattractive they thought I was. Kids can be mean."

She shrugs, "I am- was... duckie. It's not easy growing up like that. That's why I said what I said. I was just... hurt. And I lashed out. And I hurt you. I am so sorry."

She can't help that there's a few tears, and she quickly wipes them off, hoping he doesn't notice. She carried the darkness into her adulthood. She carried all that ugliness they put into her, even though now she might be deemed beautiful by their stupid, shallow standards. April didn't care anymore, but she still carried Duckie in her back pocket.

She finally lets herself look up, and she sees his face. His eyes narrowed, he looks like he's ready to attack someone. His forehead is creased into worry lines, and if she thinks his eyes were dark before, now she could see a storm brewing inside.

"I'll go then." She says, finally, noticing how he doesn't say anything in return. She did her best, after all.

"April."

His voice, stops her from walking any further. She pauses, wonders for a second if she made it up in his head, and takes a chance. She turns around and tentatively looks at him.

His eyes are much softer, the blue hue he gets when he's sad.

"Lock the door." He commands, and a part of her doesn't want to get too happy about this. What if he just wants privacy before he breaks up with her?

She walks towards the door, placing her hands on the knob and pushes the lock in. She takes a deep breath and wonders what to do next.

"Come here?" He asks this time, rather than commands and it makes her want to sprint towards him.

She nods her head, and takes small steps towards him. She steps around his desk and stands in front of his chair, watching him swivel around and face her. He stands up then.

His hands fall to hers, and he takes them in his. He brings them to his lips, and he softly kisses her knuckles.

"I'm sorry they did that to you." His voice is soft, and she can't help some of the tears that fall down her cheek.

She shrugs her shoulders and feels his thumbs swipe across her cheeks, wiping away her stray tears. She doesn't mean to cry about this. Especially not in front of him. And yet, it's him who tends to make her the most vulnerable.

"It's alright." She mumbles.

"It's not, really."

He pulls her in then, and wraps his arms around her body, and she's a little surprised but eventually she sets her head on chest and wraps herself neatly around him. Like puzzle pieces, she thinks.

"April, you're-" He begins, but she cuts him off, placing a finger across his mouth, and lingering it there for just a second after he'd shut up.

"Not now." She tells him, "After."

He grins, and she realizes that he meant something very different to what she did.

She blushes, but looks up at him, her face determined, no longer shying away, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," He says, nodding to confirm his words, "But I didn't... I would never-"

"I know that! Of course I know that! I was just... speaking out of my ass." She sighs, and then blushes because she's not even crude enough to say the word 'ass'.

"Well, it's a very cute ass, so you're forgiven." He teases, and she swats him, the blush deepening.

"I didn't care that you said it," He continues, pulling her against him, dropping his hands to her waist, "I cared that you thought I was that kind of a guy."

"I know you're not," She tells him, as he hooks his thumbs on the belt loops on her skirt, "You're...."

"What?" He whispers, as he leans his head down, placing a soft kiss on her earlobe.

She gasps, momentarily losing her train of thought, "You're... a really good person."

"Yeah?" His voice is low against her ear and his hands drop to the edges of her skirt, scrunching up the material around his fists.

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you think so." He says, turning her around.

She reaches her arms out to hold the sharp edge of the mahogany, the wood rough under her skin. He pulls her behind to meet his front, and she moans in preparation of what is to come.

"We need to tell people," She manages to squeeze out, even though his hands are moving across her lower body, angling her just the way he wants her.

"You know what they'll say right?" He asks her, and she nods. She's very well aware of the consequences of going public with him. It's the reason she's pushed it off for so long.

"I know, but... I don't care anymore." She breathes, as his hands roughly pull her up against him, her back colliding with his chest.

"The rumours will only get worse," He whispers, his breath tickling the back of her neck, as she pushes back into him.

"Let them. I don't want to pretend to hate you anymore, because I don't. Quite the opposite, actually."

She can almost feel his grin. He loves it when she doesn't give a crap, when she's confident in them, when she's confident, period.

"I agree." He bends her fully over the desk, and she slides her hands forward, papers falling off into heaps of messes on the floor. She's usually neurotic, but she can never bring herself to care in these moments.

"You know, Professor Kepner, I read poetry in my free time."

She hears the zip of his pants being pulled down, and a slight shuffling of material as they a soft thump follows with his pants hitting the carpet.

"Really?"

She pretends not to have read his collections, in bed, at his place, after they've made love.

"She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies."

She chuckles breathlessly, unable to process the fact that he was murmuring Byron in her ears, while pulling down her panties.

"Jackson." She calls out for him, breath hitched, and teeth gritting against one another as he slips into her.

"Should I go on?"

"Please."

THANK YOU FOR READING!

#japril #japril fanfiction #japril week #japril week 2017 #japril appreciation #japril appreciation week

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gossipnetwork-blog · 7 years

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The Disappearance of Maura Murray: Everything You Need to Know About the Baffling Unsolved Case

New Post has been published on http://gossip.network/the-disappearance-of-maura-murray-everything-you-need-to-know-about-the-baffling-unsolved-case/

The Disappearance of Maura Murray: Everything You Need to Know About the Baffling Unsolved Case

On Feb. 9, 2004, Maura Murray vanished without a trace.

The 21-year-old nursing student emailed her supervisor and professors at the University of Massachusetts Amherst to inform them there had been a death in her family and she would be missing work and class. She emailed her boyfriend: “I love you more stud. I got your messages, but honestly, i didn’t feel like talking to much of anyone, i promise to call today though. love you, Maura.” She packed a bag, withdrew $280 from an ATM, bought $40 worth of alcohol and hit the road. Her last known call was to check her voice mail at 4:37 p.m.

It was a cold, snowy night and, between 7 and 7:30 p.m., Murray’s black 1996 Saturn skidded off the road and hit a snowbank off of Route 112 in Haverhill, N.H. She was about 140 miles away from where she’d started her journey. A passing school bus driver asked if she needed help. Murray said no, AAA was on the way. The man, who lived nearby, called 911 anyway, knowing full well there was no cell phone service in the area.

Murray wore jeans and a dark coat and was carrying a black backpack. That’s the last anyone saw of her.

Police arrived at the scene within 10 minutes. A box of Franzia wine—one of her liquor store purchases—had spilled in the car. Her textbooks were there, as was a MapQuest printout of directions to Burlington, Vt. There was no wallet, keys or cell phone.

There were also no apparent signs of a struggle and, with authorities at first suspecting she was a troubled kid who had wandered off to escape her issues, Murray’s family wasn’t informed that she was missing until 24 hours later. Moreover, an all-hands-on-deck search—dogs, helicopters, people combing the woods—didn’t begin until 36 hours after the crash. A search dog followed her trail for about 100 feet, then lost the scent. There weren’t even any footprints in the snow. Her credit cards remained unused. Two days after the accident, a Haverhill Police press release called Murray “possibly suicidal.”

For years afterward, her father, Fred Murray, went out every weekend walking that same road, searching for clues, trying to get a sense of what his daughter was doing, where she was going.

Because there had been no death in the family.

“She was in good spirits and had no worries or reason to run away from her life,” her dad told CNN in 2008. A $40,000 reward was still on offer at the time for any information leading to her whereabouts or the arrest of someone involved in her disappearance.

But the days leading up to Feb. 9, 2004, had been a mixed bag for Murray.

Some reports say she had recently gotten engaged to her boyfriend, Bill Rausch, a U.S. Army lieutenant who was stationed in Fort Still, Okla. They had met at West Point, where Murray was a cadet for two years before transferring to UMass. She had reportedly secured a summer nursing job in Oklahoma for the upcoming summer. She was on the dean’s list and worked part time as a security guard at an art gallery. In high school she was a star athlete on the basketball and track teams. Those close to her said she had no history of mental illness.

Four days before she disappeared, she left the gallery early after receiving a phone call from her sister and becoming visibly upset. Fred Murray said his other daughter told him she had called Maura to talk about a “monstrous” fight she’d had with her own boyfriend, but he didn’t think that would have distressed Maura so much.

Two nights before she went missing, on Feb. 7, Murray had dinner with her father in Amherst and late that night, or technically 3:30 a.m. Sunday morning, while driving back from a campus party she caused $10,000 worth of damage to her dad’s new Toyota Corolla when she hit a guardrail.

A New Hampshire State Police officer told a local news station that they found a note to Rausch in Murray’s Kennedy Hall dorm room, where she had also boxed up her belongings before she left. The note indicated they were having problems as a couple, he said.

Maura’s mom, Laurie Murray, and Billy’s mother, Sharon Rausch, later told the Massachusetts Daily Collegian, the university paper, that the couple had had problems back in 2002 but patched things up and everything had been great since. Moreover, Sharon told the paper in January 2005, her son had gone to Maura’s dorm room upon his arrival in town and found no recent notes written to him. “There is no note,” she said.

What was actually atop the boxes, according to James Renner, author of True Crime Addict: How I Lost Myself in the Disappearance of Maura Murray, was a printout of an email Rausch had sent to Murray that was part of a thread about Bill apparently seeing another woman.

Meanwhile, Rausch got a leave of absence from the Army and took off for New England after learning Murray was missing, joining the search and driving across New Hampshire and Vermont stopping at police, bus and gas stations asking if they’d seen his girlfriend. Friends and family put up missing posters and called local news outlets to get the word out. “Obviously, we’re hoping for the best,” Rausch told the Boston Globe at the time. “If I just got some news, although I guess no news is good news.” Noting the spilled wine, he speculated that, while he never knew Murray to drink and drive, maybe she fled the scene out of fear she had broken the law.

Days later he told CNN’s Soledad O’Brien that he got a voice mail from Murray while he was en route from Oklahoma.

“I could hear only breathing and then towards the end of the voice mail, I heard what was apparent to be crying and then a whimper, which I’m certain was Maura,” he said. The number the person called from turned out to be a prepaid calling card.

No one who spoke to authorities about Murray seemed to know why she was upset the day she left work early, or what she wanted to talk to Rausch about. Renner, who was working as a freelance journalist when he started devoting himself full-time to the case in 2010, also reported that Maura used a stolen credit card number to charge $79.02 worth of pizza deliveries to her dorm, and three months before she disappeared, police gave her a warning to stay out of more trouble or else face charges. Renner was of the belief that Maura was still alive.

And now, with the 14-year anniversary of her disappearance fast approaching, Oxygen is revisiting the still baffling cold case with the six-episode series The Disappearance of Maura Murray, part of a new franchise that launched last month with the The Disappearance of Natalee Holloway. (The 18-year-old from Alabama disappeared on a post-graduation trip to Aruba in 2005 and her body was never found. The person authorities most suspect was involved, Joran Van Der Sloot, is in prison for murder in Peru. Human remains were discovered during a more recent 18-month investigation that was chronicled on the show, and DNA testing was underway when it premiered to try to determine if they belonged to the missing teen, whom her father had declared legally dead in 2012 so he could access money he had locked away for his daughter’s college fund to pay tuition for Natalee’s brother.)

The Maura Murray case also remains very much open, her father and siblings having never given up hope that, even if Maura is gone, they can still get answers and perhaps even justice. Maura’s mom, Laurie Murray, died of cancer on May 4, 2009—her missing daughter’s birthday.

AP Photo/Jim Cole

“I wake up. It takes just a few seconds and then it crosses my mind,” Fred Murray, who never retired because working helps him focus on something else besides Maura’s disappearance, told the Boston Globe in February. “I’m aware. It hits me. It’s a constant pall. To tell you the truth, it really isn’t any better than it ever was.”

“And there’s no answers,” sister Julie Murray told the Globe. “There’s that constant churning of your brain like: Well, what if this happened? Or: What if that happened? There are not a lot of answers. Was the timing absolutely perfect for someone to be there on the spot and snatch her up and do something bad to her? What are the chances of that? So I try to weigh that with reality and common sense.”

Added her brother, also named Fred, “There’s so many things that could have happened. It’s going to take someone coming forward with a piece of information to solve it and it’s probably something simple. The likely scenario is that she got picked up by someone. Maura is very smart but she’s not street smart. She grew up in Hanson, Mass.”

“My dad’s 74. I don’t want much more time to elapse without him knowing something,” Julie also said. “I want some answers for my dad’s sake. Somebody knows something. Somebody doesn’t just disappear literally without a trace. This case and my sister are in his every waking thought. It never leaves him. Thirteen years is long enough. We need some answers.”

Journalist and public radio producer Maggie Freleng—who was a journalism student at UMass when Maura went missing—is the one spearheading the deep dive into the Murray case on The Disappearance of Maura Murray. The case is also the subject of the Missing Maura Murray podcast, which, according to hosts Lance Reenstierna and Tim Pilleri, has been downloaded more than 8 million times since it began in July 2015.

Reenstierna and Pilleri joined Freleng in her search for answers, which included walking the woods near the crash site in New Hampshire to personally look for clues. On the series’ premiere episode, talking to retired U.S. Marshal Art Roderick, who knows Fred Murray and the ins and outs of the case, Freleng was told that question No. 1 was, What was Maura doing on that road on Feb. 9, 2004? Answer that, and the rest of the puzzle pieces may just fall into place.

But years before Freleng and Oxygen got involved, Maura’s disappearance had long since been a case for more than just the police—thanks to the Internet.

According to Boston magazine, a second cousin of Maura’s started MauraMurray.com in November 2004, armchair detectives from WebSleuths.com got involved in February 2005 and by 2007 there were Facebook and MySpace pages dedicated to the case. In summer 2013, a young Massachusetts attorney launched the website Not Without Peril, named after a book about the dangers of hiking the New Hampshire woods that was found in Murray’s car.

Murray also happened to have disappeared the same week that Facebook (or “The Facebook,” as Mark Zuckerberg first called it) launched at Harvard; soon after, the service arrived at other Boston-area colleges, branched out to the entire Ivy League and then ended up at pretty much every U.S. university. Even though it was a student-only social media network until September 2006, Internet message boards provided more than enough of a platform for those who had theories about what happened to Maura Murray: the police were covering up their own botched investigation, her family wasn’t telling the whole truth, Maura was cheating on her boyfriend, was mixed up with drugs, was suicidal, was picked up after the crash and OD’d at a party… the list went on.

Questions remained about why it took police so long to start searching for Maura. Fred Murray drove to Haverhill immediately after getting the call, relieved at first that a state trooper was on the scene in addition to the local cops, but when he got there, “evidently, they had not done anything,” he told the Caledonian Record in 2009. “My first question was, ‘You had an officer at the scene. What did your guy say?’ Five years later I have the same question. He was the best chance Maura had. Why can’t they say?”

In the months following Maura’s disappearance, Fred wrote to the New Hampshire governor’s office, pleading for his assistance in urging the State Police to accept help from the FBI. He said he never heard back and in the meantime had filed a Freedom of Information Act so that he could see what authorities were doing about his daughter’s case. He told the Daily Collegian in January 2005 that he would even hang out in local bars, hoping to overhear any snippet of info in case anyone was talking about Maura.

He enlisted a team of private investigators and they too had a falling out over disagreements about the way information was being shared, or not shared, but the PIs continued to work the case on their own.

Fred alleged that the police refused to properly investigate the possibility that Maura had been abducted. “There’s a bad guy on their turf in their backyard,” he said. “The skunk is on their doorstep.”

Authorities didn’t want to badmouth a grieving father, but they became frustrated by Fred Murray’s continued insistence that they screwed up the investigation and haven’t done their due diligence over the years.

“Fred has been a difficult person to deal with from the beginning,” Jeff Strelzin, chief of the New Hampshire Attorney General’s Office homicide unit, told Boston magazine in 2014. “I understand a lot of where he is coming from, but I feel his anger is misplaced.”

Strelzin said he didn’t mind the case’s massive Internet following, so long as the conspiracy theorists or the earnest amateur sleuths didn’t actually interfere with the investigation.

A decade ago, police probed a possible link between Maura’s disappearance and that of 17-year-old Brianna Maitland—like Murray a pretty, young brunette—who was last seen in Montgomery, Vt., on March 19, 2004. Maitland had clocked out of her job at 11:20 p.m. and less than two hours later, her abandoned car was found backed into the side of an empty farmhouse, the headlights still on.

In May 2004, Vermont State Police Lt. Thomas Nelson said in a statement, “We have looked at [the possible connection] and talked with the New Hampshire State Police about both cases. We have not found anything that connects the cases in any way.”

Police also shot down speculation that the missing girls may have fallen prey to a serial killer. But the Maitland and Murray families shared similar grievances about how the cops were working their respective cases.

AP Photo/Jon-Pierre Lasseigne

“Just because there isn’t any evidence is not a reason to close the door on that theory, or any other,” Brianna’s father, Bruce Maitland, told World Net Daily in 2006. “If you look at the vital statistics on all of these missing women, you’d see right away that most are startlingly similar. If none are related, then that means there are a good 100, or so, individual murderers out there roaming about free to do anything they want.”

Similar to Fred Murray’s outrage when local police publicly claimed that Maura was possibly suicidal, Maitland’s friends and family were incensed by Lt. Nelson’s assertion at a press conference that Brianna had gotten involved in the local rural drug culture and “made unhealthy lifestyle choices in her life prior to her disappearance.”

“Nelson’s statement in my view was an exercise in character assassination,” Bruce Maitland told WND. “It was a calculated effort to paint my daughter out as a bad person that got what she deserved. It was an effort to draw the heat away from the police. It made me sick to hear it. No teenager deserves to be portrayed that way by a public servant, especially when they are missing and nobody knows the facts or their fate.”

Brianna Maitland has never been found, either. The unsolved case has been featured on Dateline and on the Discovery (and now Discovery ID) series Disappeared.

At the same press conference where Nelson made those comments, New Hampshire State Police Lt. John Scarinza said about Maura Murray, “What’s also clear is she did not want to tell any of her family what her intentions were. And she did not tell any of her friends.”

“It does not matter why she left or if she told anybody about it,” Fred Murray also told World News Daily. “She had an accident and this presented her with a completely different set of circumstances, any other plans went out the window. I believe that my daughter would be home safe and sound right now if the police had not ignored the case until it was way too late. They would have known where she was heading if they had bothered to check the last phone call she made three hours before she left Amherst. I told the police where she was going two days after the accident but they didn’t check that either. The police failed to follow their own procedures and are now striving to prevent this from coming to light. Maura probably did get a ride with one or more of the area’s multitudinous sex offenders who law enforcement can’t catch because they waited too long to get started.”

On The Disappearance of Maura Murray, premiering tonight on Oxygen, podcasters Reenstierna and Pilleri told Maggie Freleng that the Murray family wouldn’t speak to them when they tried to get in touch “because of the James Renner factor.”

Fred Murray wouldn’t speak to Renner for his book, and Renner has been of the opinion that Fred hasn’t shared everything he knows about his daughter’s disappearance. Reenstierna and Pilleri had Renner on their podcast.

But despite his reluctance to work with certain people, Fred Murray hasn’t given up his search, nor does he crave justice for Maura any less than he did 13 years ago.

“The case has to stay alive,” he told the Globe in February. “That’s the only hope I have. I can’t help Maura now. The only thing I can do for Maura is to grab the dirt bag who grabbed her. That’s all I can do. I must find her and bring her home.”

The Disappearance of Maura Murray airs at 7 & 9 p.m. on Oxygen.

(E! and Oxygen are both members of the NBCUniversal family.)

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