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lukehughes43 · 1 year

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no time for goodbyes - luke hughes

word count: 4,282

a/n: so this is technically the first installment of the coug!read x luke seeing as I still haven't finished the other fic, or even started the fic that is the beginning of coug!luke. but I was in my feels last night, so please enjoy this heart wrenching fic🫶🏼

the night had started to wind down for everyone in the sophomore house the minute you had gotten back from student teaching. the boys being exhausted from a monday afternoon practice, and you being exhausted from chasing around six-year-olds for eight hours straight. when your five sophomore hockey players walked through the front door a little after four o’clock they found you passed out on the couch, still dressed in your blue and white checkered and a plain white tee. luke was in charge of carrying you up the stairs to your room so mark and eddy’s disaster of cooking dinner wouldn’t wake you from a much-needed rest.

you woke up an hour or so later by lightly shaking you awake. mumbling a soft, “marky and eddy made dinner for us, coug.” to which immediately woke you up based on the fact the last time mark and eddy tried making dinner you almost no longer had a house due a kitchen fire. you stumbled around the practically empty bedroom, minus the boxes stacked up in the corners, before groggily booking it down the stairs to make sure everyone was still alive.

when you ran into the kitchen and dining room area the other four were seated around the dining table in their unofficial seats, smiles on their faces waiting for you to finally join them in order to have one of the last meals together as a found family. after practice tomorrow they were departing to the airport right from yost in order to get on the plane to tampa. meaning that this was it. this was the last meal with all five of them together as once michigan was done so was luke. he was to board a plane straight from tampa to newark and the last two years at michigan would officially be in the books for the youngest hughes brother. leaving you in a house full of four other hockey boys until it was your turn to join luke in jersey after april 28th: graduation day.

“you guys made family dinner,” you smiled as the bittersweet words left your mouth. not yet wanting to believe that this was the end of the cherry on top of your time at michigan. “and you didn’t even burn the house down. i’m so proud of you.”

there was a chorus of laughter that filled your ears before luke pulled your seat out for you. once he pushed you in all the way he took his seat to the left of you, sitting so he was for the last time eating a meal between two of his favorite people - you and dylan. the conversation between bites of the steak, mashed potatoes, and caesar salad was almost nonexistent. everyone in an unspoken agreement to just sit there and soak it all in. of course small talk was eventually made as mackie made you a glass of wine, claiming that it was well deserved even though it was only monday. he knew how hard you were taking everything, you may not have told him directly, but he knew. all of the boys knew. while this was luke’s last week of college hockey, it was also the last week everything would be semi-normal regarding your relationship. the nhl and the demanding schedule an obvious looming fear to both of you.

the conversation died out after hearing how practice went and the six year olds who had crushes on you found out you would be leaving them soon. and soon one by one all of you dismissed yourself from the table. mark being first, trying to get out of dish duty. eddy followed second, taking everyone’s dishes as he went. dylan sprinted away afterwards as if filming a monday questions video. leaving mackie, youself, and luke. you were the next to fall, not wanting to be, but ultimately knowing you had too much to do in order to prepare for missing all of your classes thursday and friday in order to be in tampa. your left hand squeezed luke’s right, as your right hand ran over the discolored wooden table. “‘ve gotta head up, lukey,” you whispered over to him. a sad smile taking over your face while you stared at him as you tried to read the expression on his face. praying his blue eyes would give you a little insight into what he was thinking. he hummed before turning to look at you. “get out of my work clothes, shower,” you then explained. “go through your bags to make sure you have everything.”

the last part earned a laugh from mackie seeing as he had done the same for both mark and eddy. duker being too stubborn not allowing anyone to double check for him. “goodnight y/n/n, see you tomorrow?” mackie asked with a hopeful smile.

shaking your head you frowned, “i’ve got school.” instantly the rain cloud that had a hold over the room became even heavier at your words. “i won’t see you guys until thursday. i’m in the middle of teaching during the send-off, and since i’m already missing thursday and friday…” you trailed off at the end, not having the heart to speak anymore. too afraid that you would break down in the middle of the dining room if you did.

“i get it,” mackie answered with a sweet smile. “we’ll see you thursday, mom.”

nodding your head you turned your attention back to your boyfriend. “i’ll be up soon, cougy,” he mumbled, eyes meeting your for a split second before he looked back at the table. the use of ‘cougy’ instead of ‘coug’ was what tipped you off to what was going on inside of his head. he was reaching his emotional breaking point.

“okay, lu.” he leaned down and pressed a kiss against the top of his curls before turning to look back at mackie, “night macks. take care of everyone for me until thursday, yeah?” he gave you a final salute and that’s when you started your terk upstairs to the empty bedroom once more. it made your heart heavy to walk into a room that was normally so full of life, reflecting yours and luke’s personalities, packed away into boxes like it had been since the end of the big ten tournament. between preparing for regionals, classes, and student teaching luke and you were busy packing up your lives at the mere fact that his season could’ve ended two weeks ago meaning you had to be prepared in case that was to happen.

you let out a deep sigh and walked into the empty room, slowly closing the door behind you so nobody could hear as your walls came crashing down faster than you could piece them together. the shower was where you choose to break down for the night. already knowing that luke would leave you to yourself once he came into the room since he had showered at yost after practice, and knew you needed this time to decompress. so that’s exactly what you did. you sat under the scolding hot water letting the tears stream down your face as you silently sobbed over your college life that was coming to an end. over this being luke’s last week as a michigan wolverine. at how after his nhl debut you wouldn’t see him again until graduation, something you needed to bring up to him and talk about as the devils would be in the playoffs and there was no way you’d let him miss anything hockey related just to watch you walk across a stage.

when you finally got out of your depression shower, luke was already camped out in your bed. the comforter was pooled around his waist, his bare chest on full display for you. just waiting for you to climb in next to him. “how was your shower, coug?” his voice was tight as he asked the question, and you wondered if this was when it finally happened. if this was the moment luke finally allowed himself to come to terms with the whirlwind of emotions he was currently experiencing.

“it was nice,” you answered honestly. “helped me clear my mind.” right away you knew luke would understand what you were getting about. slightly hoping that he would take it as a subtle hint that he too could confess everything he was going through to you. instead, all you got back from him was a small hum of acknowledgment, eyes downcast on his phone screen. after changing into your pajamas which consisted of luke’s boxers and a worn-out ntdp t-shirt, you crawled into bed next to him. arms immediately wrapping around his torso, head falling against his chest. “i never got around to looking through your bag to make sure you have everything,” you said to break the silence of the room. “i’m not that worried though,” you added on, “i mean everything you needed was the only things you could pack. you just have to remember your chargers in the morning before you go to practice. i can text you in the morning to remind you if you want.”

when luke didn’t answer you thought maybe he had fallen asleep. it wouldn’t have been the first time the worn out hockey player fell asleep while in the middle of a conversation with you. only that wasn’t the case this time. you could feel from underneath its resting place as his heart rate began to increase. his breathing beginning to follow in it’s footsteps. “hey lukey, baby, we gotta sit up. can you sit up for me?” you asked, already knowing what was about to happen. luke was on the verge of a panic attack, everything hitting him all at once. the packed boxes. the final practice at yost is tomorrow. an elc in his future.

“‘m okay,” he choked out between ragged breaths. “just, just stay here. just lay here.” you knew he was referring to you staying situated on his chest, feeling the safest when he had you cuddled up on top of him.

shaking your head you propped yourself up instantly. throwing your legs on either side of his waist in order to straddle his lap. “no, no luke i need you to sit up for me. okay? can you do that for me, baby?” you asked while staring down at him. his eyes were screwed shut, knowing that if he had them open you would be able to see how red and puffy they were. his final moments of sitting at the kitchen table after family dinner ended causing everything to hit him like a freight truck. “luke, i’ve got you,” you whispered, hands cupping his cheeks, “but i need, you have to sit up for me. please.” you were disparately pulling him into a sitting position, letting his head fall against your chest. his arms wrapping around your waist in a bone-crushing hug. “i’ve got you. i have you, lukey. it’s okay. i’m right here. you’re safe. just, just get it out. deep breathes.” your words were muttered into the top of his curls, as you soothingly ran a hand up and down his back. the other laced in the curls at the nape of his neck. “i love you. i’m here. you’re okay. i’ve got you, lukey.”

“i- i, i start playing in the nhl as soon as saturday,” he finally spoke. voice cracking as he did so, his breathing slowly coming back to a normal rhythm. “tomorrow… tomorrow’s my last ever practice at yost. tonight was the last family dinner.” you could feel your own heart breaking all over again at his words. shattering even more so as you knew there was nothing you could say or do to make things better. “our fucking bedroom has been packed up to leave for two weeks!” his hold on you got tighter with each realization. your presence being enough to ground him in this instance for him to get all of his emotions out before it was too late. “cougy, this is it. it’s my final week of college hockey.” it took all the strength in his body to force his head up to look at you. his blue eyes as clear as glass due to the tears that were pouring down his cheeks. “my final week of seeing you every single day until i retire, which will be what? like ten-fifteen years from now?”

you squeezed your eyes shut in order to prevent the tears from slipping out. forehead dipping down to rest against his, “it’ll be okay, lukey. we’re going to make this work. you have to take the good and the bad. that’s what you’ve been telling me since january right?” just barely his forehead moved against yours in a nodding motion. “plus it’s me and you, honey. me and you no matter what.”

“you and me,” he whispered against your lips. you could taste the salt from his tears that were staining his cracked lips with every word he spoke. “but coug, i just. this is it. it’s over. and, and i don’t even get to say goodbye to you tomorrow. you’ll be gone before i wake up, and i won’t see you until thursday. and - and if we lose it’ll be for nothing.”

“it won’t be for nothing, luke warren,” you corrected with a pointed look. “everything you’ve done, everything i’ve chosen to do in order to watch you play this year has not been for nothing, luke. i do it because i love you. because there is nobody out there more proud of you than me,” you confessed with a small smile, “just don’t tell your parents i said that.” your little jab jim and ellen caused a small smile to grace luke’s face as well. “if you lose on thursday, which you’re not going too, then we get on a plane and we go to jersey. you get on the team plane and go to boston, and i’ll fly out with your parents. we’ll be there for you first ever fucking nhl game, and i’ll be there standing and waiting for you. tears streaming down my face just like after you scored your hat trick. you know why?”

he shook his head, “no. why?”

“becuase i love you,” you answered. “because the last three years of my life have been the best years of my life because i’ve spent them loving you. officially i mean. but what you’re feeling right now luke? it’s normal. it’s healthy. it means that we have met some incredible people who we are so lucky to have in our lives. people that are always going to be there for us, no matter what happens in the future.”

he let out a shaky breathe while he let his eyes meet yours once more. “you graduate college in twenty-five days. and then you’re mine. in jersey, and everything will be okay again. i’ll be there to watch you walk across the stage, and then we’re together, never apart again.”

your heart was in your throat at his words, knowing that there was no better time to bring this up than right now. “about graduation, lu, you’re going to be in the playoffs. as much as i want you there, you can’t be if you have something hockey related. especially if you have a game scheduled for it.” the way his arms loosened around your waist is how you knew you struck a nerve within the nineteen-year-old. “i just! having our parents there will be enough for me. and as soon as the ceremony ends we can have a devils watch party at your house! cheering on my favorite boy, and my best friend.”

luke’s face hardened with every passing second. not at all thrilled by what you had said. “i’m not missing your college graduation, y/n,” he grumbled, clearly frustrated by the fact you had suggested such an outrageous thing. “you realize you’re the only one of us whose’s going to graduate college and have a degree, right?” by that you knew he was referring to quinn, jack, himself and you. the four of you being thick as thieves since you grew up next to each other. you and jack have been best friends since your shared birthday, as well as the fact your mothers were best friends. “how could i miss that? miss the love of my life getting her degree that she’s worked her ass off for the past four years to get it? no, absolutely not. i’m coming to graduation on the twenty-eighth. game or no game. end of discussion.”

it was no secret to either of you that you had more to say on the topic, but you knew when luke was set on something he was going to do it so you dropped it. “okay, you’re coming to graduation. but as soon as it’s over we’re getting on the first flight newark, got it?”

“got it, coug,” he agreed with a smile growing on his face. his head dropped back to rest against your chest once more. his tears pooling into the already wet fabric. “do you think i - i mean, do you think we can do it this week. win the natty? push my rookie game back until the eleventh?”

“of course i think you can do it, moosey,” you answered with nothing but certainty. “there’s nothing you guys can’t do. you know that.”

he let out the breath that he was holding in. nuzzling his head further into the cotton fabric that smelled just like you. “i’m sorry i acted like the world was falling apart tonight. it’s just, i never thought we’d actually get to this point,” luke confided in you. “it always seemed so far away, like we’d never actually make it to this day. but now it’s here, and i feel like there’s still so much i haven’t done with the guys. so much i haven’t done with you, coug.”

you dropped your head to rest against his fluffy curls, taking a deep breath in to smell his shampoo and conditioner. “don’t apologize my sweet boy,” you cooed, kissing the top of his head. “i mean i just broke down in the shower before you got in here. it’s okay, i promise you. it’s a little scary, yes, but you have nothing to regret, lukey. you have left such an incredible impact on everyone here and mich, and you’re going to be so fucking missed. fuck, i’m going to miss you those two weeks before i get to see you at graduation.”

“don’t remind me about that,” he groaned, head diving forward so you were now laying on your back and he was on top of you. a squeal left your mouth from the action, cradling his head closer to your chest. “those two weeks are literally going to be hell, cougy. we’ve never been apart for that long before.” humming you ran your hands through his hair. trying to find the right words in order to try and calm his nerves about it. “are you going to be able to survive without me for that long, y/n/n?”

“god no, lukey. how am i supposed to fall asleep in an empty room with you not here to hold me?”

you could feel the frown form on his face through the t-shirt. “i’ll call you every single night. make sure that you get to sleep. no matter how much jack chirps me, i don’t care. and if, you know, the depression gets a little too much in those two weeks, just go climb into bed with duker. or make a bed in mackie’s room.”

a cold shiver ran through your body at the thought of you sleeping in the same bed as dylan. of course, it’s something you’d done before with him being your college best friend. sometimes it was because he needed to comfort of someone other than his boys, someone who would actually listen to what he was feeling and try and help him through it. other times it would be because luke was busy and you were on the verge of crumbling apart. it was in those times dylan would make it a mandate you slept in his room where he could keep an eye on you before luke got home. in fact, you’ve slept in every room of the sophomore house. taking turns making sure your college children weren’t sad or just being there in case they needed the gentle loving that only you could offer them. “ew absolutely not!” you laughed. luke’s head tilting up to look at you with a smile. “i don’t want to step foot in that room. we don’t know what goes on in there anymore. it’s definitely highly unsanitary.”

a chuckle fell past luke’s lips before he rested his head in the crook of your neck. his breath fanning against your skin, lips just barely grazing the skin there. “you could always have him sleep in here.”

you shrugged your shoulders. “i was thinking about just going home,” you mumbled, almost as if you were scared to admit that you wanted to spend the last two weeks of your college career in either yours or luke’s childhood bedroom. “i love the boys, and i love being here. but i just, i feel like it might be better for me to stay at home. i mean i’ll have your parents, my parents. being here just won’t be the same without you, lukey.”

the sudden confession you had just made was pulling on luke’s heartstrings. “would you drive to school and teaching?” you nodded your head ever so slightly, eyes growing heavy with each passing second. the physical and emotional exhaustion finally hitting you once more. “you could always take my car too if you wanted. just so you’re not constantly using your own.”

yawning you smiled, “i was already planning on it, lukey.” your eyes were closed when luke looked back up at you, and he could feel as your breathing began to even out from underneath him. “i love you, luke.”

multiple kisses were pressed against the skin of your neck and jaw, pulling a smile on the corners of your lips. “i love you too, y/n/n. get some sleep, okay, cougy? i’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow.” and with that you drifted off to sleep for the final time in a full sophomore house.

when you woke up in the morning to the sound of your alarm part of you was confused as to how your phone got in the room seeing you don’t remember ever grabbing it off the coffee table after your post-school nap. only to remember that luke thought of everything when it came to you and without a doubt brought it up when he came up from dinner. reluctantly you carefully slid yourself out from under the dead weight that was luke’s sleeping body in order to get ready. grabbing a throw blanket you carefully tucked him in, allowing him the chance to sleep in until his own alarm went off to start his day.

getting ready you were stuck in a whirlwind of emotions as you remembered you wouldn’t see any of the boys until thursday morning, having chosen to surprise them by flying out wednesday night rather than thursday morning like you originally told them all. once dressed and ready to make your way to the elementary school you were student teaching at you sat down at your desk, slipping on your cartier ring luke had gifted you along with the necklace that adorned his favorite nickname. your attention then turned to the post-it note stack, maize yellow of course. grabbing the navy blue pen you had resting beside it you scribbled out two final notes for your boyfriend and the boys you considered your children.

lukey, i love you so incredibly much i’ll see you on thursday. you’re going to do amazing this week, take it all in. text me when your boarding and when you land. i’ll meet you in tampa, moosey. me and you, sweet boy. - coug<3

after writing both notes you stuck luke’s against his phone he had plugged in on his bed side table. running back to press a kiss against his cheek. a smile pulling on his feature even though he was sleeping. “i love you, lukey,” you then whispered into his ear. kissing the top of his head one last time before you carefully slipped out of your bedroom. the next and final stop in the early morning hours of the house was the front door. you were frozen as you stood there waiting to walk out, knowing if you didn’t leave now you would be late to school after running to starbucks. so you forced yourself to put the final note up on the door.

to my hughes wedding bridal party, make sure you have absolutely everything- CHARGERS!!! now that thats out of the way, know that win or lose i’m always going to be proud of you guys. thank you for the past year, there’s nobody else i would want to life willingly with. i’ll see you in tampa! love you guys. - coug… aka mom<3

you stared at the note for a minute longer than what was necessary, tearing beginning to well in your eyes before you forced yourself to open the front door. taking a deep breath you pulled it closed behind you, as well as closing the door on the last four years of life.

#my writing #umich imagine #umich #umich hockey #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #coug!reader #coug luke #usa hockey #ntdp #new jersey devils #my works #dylan duke #ethan edwards #mackie samoskevich #mark estapa #2023 ncaa hockey tourney

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rubdown · 5 months

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11 & 18 pls n ty!

11. Something you want to do again next year? & 18. A memorable meal this year?

Ok honestly these go perfectly hand in hand for me. Around my birthday this year I went on my first solo trip to St. Clair, in Michigan. I never travel by myself bc I'm a weenie but I was like u know what. You HAVE to get over it otherwise you'll never go anywhere... it's only about an hour and a half away from me!! Suck it up baby!!!! I stayed in a hotel right on the river and it was soooo beautiful... it was just a lil town so I could walk everywhere... stare at the river... go get an iced coffy... I had never eaten inside a restaurant by myself before either!!!! I was sweating bullets feeling like the world's worst friendless loser!!!! Eating alone isn't inherently friendless loser behavior but it's just how I feel... it's my own hang up. The second day I was there I walked to this restaurant for dinner right on this canal, and it was such a beautiful sunny day - btw I was wearing leggings no socks and got a sunburn on my ankles only then had a really mortifying ankles only tan all summer. I sat by myself slightly more relaxed with experience and ordered a buffalo chicken salad and an alcoholic dole whip (I haven't had alcohol since December 31, 2020 bc I drank so much I threw up mild salsa out of my nose and mouth) and just enjoyed the canal view. There was a party of old friends next to me, literally old people who were friends, and one of the ladies came up to me and told me she loved my look and how beautiful I was. I was wearing my nice red mockneck dress and I wear my hair up in a headband like Snow White a lot so I was like omg wow thank u... and when I went to pay my bill the server told me that lady paid for my meal!!!!!!!!!!! She saw I was beautiful glamorous and alone and bought my food and beverage.... it was so nice!!!!! It changed my life and my perspective on going places alone. The lesson is be urself and everyone will love u.

#ask #next year I'd like to go back...#the free dole whip in question!!!!!

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unabashegirl · 11 months

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Different 1 (HS)

Summary: Harry is just like any other college student. He is a senior in Chicago University. He keeps to himself except when he is spending time with his closest friends, Sarah and Mitch. His world revolves around his future career, friends, and family. His quiet and routine driven life takes a turn, one weekend when he meets Y/N Y/L/N. She is way too different from him. She spends most of her days surrounded by people who care for superficial and materialistic things. Her parents are never home, and they think that with money everything can be solved. They are both from different worlds yet something that night clicks and Y/N can never again get him off her mind.

Author's note: I've decided to post the first chapter of Different. It is a story that is EXCLUSIVE for my Patreon subscribers. There are already NINE chapters posted.

Word count: 2.5K

DISCLAIMER: the following story is only available and exclusively posted on Patreon.

“So, are you coming?” Mitch asked him as they sat in the dining hall of the university and attempted to eat what they had chosen as their meal. Harry had ordered a warm tortilla soup and a side salad with some lemonade. He was a messy eater, and so he was careful not to spill any soup on his white sweater or worst yet, stain his sleeves.

“To Y/N’s party?” He asked unbothered and disinterested in the idea of partying at some rich girl’s house. “Are you even invited?” Harry had no intention of getting in trouble, especially for such a superficial thing as attending a party of an almost stranger.

“Obviously not” Harry rolled his eyes at him as he looked through the notes of his upcoming biochemistry class. “Emma was and I am sure if we ask her, she’ll help us get in.”

“We are barely friends with her!” He argued getting annoyed by his persistence. “Why are you so interested in going?” Harry challenged wanting to know the true reason. “We rarely see her. She is on another major and most importantly you don’t know her!”

“Isn’t she studying psychology or something ?” Sarah asked as she continued eating the grapes that she had carefully packed that morning. Mitch only nodded and took a sip out of his vitamin water.

“So what? I want to get to know her. It’s senior year, H. Let’s finally do something fun” Harry snorted but eventually gave in. Mitch had always craved to be popular and well-known around campus. Although he barely could count his friends on one hand. He blamed it on not having enough time to manage everything. Yet he barely turned in assignments. On the other hand, Harry was an introvert. He hated the uncomfortable silences that surged in conversations with strangers. Therefore, he avoided talking and making conversation altogether.

But either way no matter how annoyed Harry got with Mitch, they were still best friends.

That weekend they found themselves crammed into a small vehicle heading up north, where Y/N’s family house was situated. In a small town named Lake Forest. The town was known for its enormous and pricey houses. As soon as they pulled up into her street Harry already regretted leaving the dorms.

Mitch decided to park the car a few blocks away from the house due to the high congestion of cars. Emma was already waiting for them at the front of the gate with a drink in her hand.

“It’s about time you showed up! I am freezing my ass!” She complained evidently cold from the already low temperatures at the North Shore in early August. Y/N’s house was right on the coast of the Michigan River making the breeze even colder. “Come on already!” She stumped her food on the ground just like a little kid would do when throwing a tantrum. Regardless, she reached over and dialed the intercom.

“Hello?” A soft voice greeted them.

“Hey babe is Emma, could you open the door?” Her tone was completely different from the one that she was using a few minutes ago with them. She was cheerful and happy and kind.

“Oh hey! Yeah sure! Let me buzz you in!” Then within a matter of seconds, the front doors of the house opened up to them revealing a long driveway towards the house. The sides of the driveway were decorated with trees and bushes. Emma lead the way as the rest of them looked around awestruck.

“Who needs such a long driveway anyway?” Sarah questioned clearly annoyed by the attention that they were all giving Y/N without even having to meet her.

“Please don’t be weird” Emma pleaded with them when we came to the end of the road and across her huge house. “She is really nice. So, no need to be assholes” They all nodded before Sarah opened the door.

It wasn’t like Harry expected it to be like. He had assumed that the party would be filled with snobby super-rich kids complaining about their lives but to his surprise, there were people from all over, including people from their major.

There was also space to walk, talk and even sit without having to push or shove people around. Harry knew it was one of the perks of having a big ass house.

“Emma! Hey!” A girl smiled at her and began approaching them. She leaned in and hugged her tightly. “I am so glad you made it!”

“Hey! You look great!” Emma smiled widely at her “How’ve you been?”

“Good! How about yourself?” Emma goes on to explain her boy's problems and the issues about the current gossip going around involving her. All while the rest stood back and tried their best to follow. “Oh! These are my friends Harry, Sarah, and Mitch” She introduced them after a few minutes. I looked up and smiled at her still not sure what to make of her. “This is Y/N guys”

Y/N Y/L/N was pretty known around campus. She was an extrovert. She had at least one friend in every class. Y/N would befriend anyone who seemed lonely. She had this resting bitch face which people misinterpreted.

Harry’s eyes scanned her body and face wanting to confirm everything that Mitch had told him. He spoke about her none stop and even stalked her social media and followers.

She had this gorgeous, thick hair that ran down her back and stopped a few inches above her butt. She had doe-eyes that could move crowds. Y/N wore some type of black shirt, with blue jeans and an oversized cardigan. Her hair was pushed back, and she wore a shiny necklace that stole everyone’s attention. It had been a gift from her grandfather. It held a special place in her heart. She has never taken it off ever since it was gifted to her.

“Hi, guys, nice to meet you” Her voice was even appealing — Harry thought. She shook all of their hands, and she shook Harry’s hand last.

Y/N had never before interacted with him. She had seen him around campus with Emma yet she had never had a conversation with him. Let alone notice his natural beauty. She instantly found him attractive. He wore a simple black hoodie, beige jeans, and vans. His hair was stunning and his face structure reminded her of the carved statues in the museum.

Harry licked his lips and looked away. He felt intimidated by her glaze. His mouth was suddenly too dry and he needed a drink.

“Please help yourself in the kitchen and enjoy yourselves. Let me know if you need anything else” Y/N insisted just before she disappeared in the wave of people.

“What the fuck was that?” Mitch gasped for air, seconds after she left. “Did you see that ass?” Harry chuckled and shook his head at him. “Isn’t she stunning?”

“Yes, Mitch” Harry muttered. Mitch dragged him towards the kitchen in search of some drinks and snacks. “And you wonder why you are still single”. Harry said to him.

Mitch chuckled and continued to pour vodka into three red cups.

“That kind of girl only dates guys with trust funds,” Sarah remarked reaching out for a cup. “And you two don’t qualify”.

“Somebody’s cranky” Mitch poked her on her side. It was clear that Sarah wasn’t too happy. She knew it was silly, yet she couldn’t explain the feeling that bubbled within her. She was pretty but her confidence made her uncomfortable.

“Somebody needs to shut the fuck up” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Now what?” Harry walked behind them as she exited the kitchen.

“Now we look around the house and try to guess how much everything is worth” Mitch winked, there were two huge glass doors that gave out to the backyard. They were open, expanding the length of the living room. People stood out around a small fire pit. Green grass extended and covered all of the property, ending by the wooden dock over the lake. “She has a fucking boat. Unbelievable” Mitch gasped under his breath.

“It’s my father’s” Her voice startled them as she walked up to them from behind. She barely used it anymore because the weather was starting to get cooler “It’s useful during the summer” Y/N would use it as a car and would drive to her other friends’ docks. “What’s your major?” she finally asked.

“Biology” Harry responded, “Mitch’s is engineering, and Sarah is in economics”.

Y/N leaned against the back of the couch, looking for some support for her back. She had been spending too much time hunched over the books in the library.

“That explains why I rarely see you on campus” Harry was studying biology with the intention of entering medical school. He had even already presented all the standardized exams to enter. He was just waiting for the results. Meanwhile, Mitch was staying in Chicago and Sarah was looking at job opportunities on the east coast.

“Y/N” a guy roughly around their age, walked up to them. His name was Brian and was pretty known around campus. His friends and he studied economics with Sarah. She tried her best to ignore him most days. She sat in front of him and detested the way he talked with superiority to others. Brian wrapped his arms around Y/N as he owned her. Like she was his and the world needed to know.

The gesture generated a small spark of jealousy within Harry.

“Hey. I am glad you made it” She slowly and gently tore off him. Y/N felt uncomfortable and so she took a step backward, trying to gain some distance between them.

“I bought more drinks. The boys are taking them into the kitchen”. Sarah rolled her eyes at the mention of the ‘boys’. She felt like she was back in high school when the popular kids were in this one group that was untouchable and desired by many. “Sorry and who are you?”

“These are my friends” Y/N warmly smiled.

“Right,” he nodded as he stared down at them. “Sarah! I didn’t know you came to these types of things”. She faked smiled back yet held back from insulting him. Brian would really get on her nerves.

“Go get yourself a drink” Y/N suggested, embarrassed of him.

Harry paid no attention to him. He was too invested in holding stares with Y/N.

“Will I get to speak to you later?” Brian looked down at her with a hard state, “Alone” he added. Y/N nodded slightly earning a soft stroke on the side of her face before he left them.

“Sorry about that. Brian plays hockey and his father is the owner of this amusement park corporation, and he thinks he is the big shit” They laughed but Harry could tell that she was still bothered by his attitude.

The party picked up after a few hours. Everyone was spilling drinks and the floor had gotten to that point where it was sticky, but people were having fun. Harry sat on the kitchen floor because all of the couches were occupied by horny couples. He was tired from all the dancing that Sarah and Emma had forced him into.

“Tired?”

“A- a bit” he stuttered surprised to see Y/N sitting beside him. “Y-you?”

“Very much” She admitted. She lived in an apartment in the city that her parents had bought for her during her freshman year. It was a small studio apartment. It was her haven which is why she never threw parties there. That and the fact that it was too small. Therefore, she had driven just like everyone else.

“Aren’t you worried they are trashing the place?” He was curious as to why she wasn’t kicking everyone out of the house, and she was so relaxed.

“They are having fun” Y/N watched Sarah and Mitch holding each other’s hand and spinning around in her living room and hysterically laughing at one another. “That’s what matters. Plus, it’s my parent's house” she shrugged.

“Aren’t they going to kill you?” Y/N’s parents were a touchy subject for her. She isn’t tensed up and quieted down. Harry instantly noticed that his comment had made her uncomfortable.

“They don’t really care” The psychology student confessed. She was surprised by herself. Y/N never spoke about them. She had a difficult relationship with them.

“I- I understand the feeling” He smiled at her weakly. And so, they allowed the comfortable silence to engulf them.

A few hours later, Mitch was drunk and so was Emma. Most people had already left. It was mostly them and three other friends of Y/N’s.

“I guess we should get going” Harry rose to his feet, pulling Mitch up too.

“Would you like some help?” She asked as she pulled Mitch’s other arm over her shoulder. They quietly dragged him out of the house and sat him on the steps leading up to the main entrance.

“Why don’t you go get the car and I’ll buzz you in, so you don’t have to drag him all the way down the street” She suggested. Harry remained quiet and ran out for the car. Meanwhile, Y/N woke up Sarah who had passed out on the couch in the living room.

Harry pulled up and unlocked the car doors so moving/ carrying Mitch was easier. Sarah got in the car by herself. Meanwhile, Harry and Y/N helped Mitch sit upright on the seat.

“You are so beautiful” Mitch slurred to her as she leaned over him to bucked him in. “Date me” he divulges. Y/N laughed at his drunken state.

“Next time big boy” She kissed his cheek and winked. Mitch threw his head back and passed out with a big smile.

“Oh! forgot about Emma!” Harry exclaimed, he felt Y/N’s hand on his forearm which instantly stopped any movement.

“She can stay here. Let her sleep. My parents aren’t home so the company would be nice” She pointed out. “I’ll drive her tomorrow”.

“O-okay” Harry stuttered then cleared his throat “Thank you for having us” Y/N leaned in and hugged him gently.

“Thank you for coming” She muttered before she pulled away. “I had lots of fun! Drive safe”

Harry smiled at her before getting into the car. He watched her through the rearview mirror as she waved. He found himself perplexed by her kindness, her beauty, her eyes, and her simplicity. It was too bad that they belonged to different worlds — he pondered.

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ashlingiswriting · 8 months

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do i know you? chapter seven

[ 5.4k words ] [ masterlist ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six ] you figure you can be good and still take it a little easier. that’s all you’ve done today, take it a little easier, and it feels really fucking good. richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn

after an eleven-hour stretch of sleep, a three-egg breakfast, and cautious self-reflection, you come to the conclusion that something has to change. and fast. yesterday, richie fucking jerimovich—constant leather jacket tracksuit combo, stab wound, aggravated assault charge, and anxiety and depression diagnoses, that richie—asked you if you were okay. it was a reasonable question for him to ask, and giving him the truthful answer felt like peeling off your own skin.

usually you’d cut and run—you’re not big on torture—but richie’s become as much a fixture in your life as cigarettes themselves. whatever you go through with him, you have a feeling that things would be worse without. so you do the reasonable thing.

you go to the library and google ‘how to stay mentally healthy.’

sure, it makes you feel like an idiot, but it’s not like you have other options. your health and benefits package consists of stolen medications, a grizzled retired doctor named beth, and weirdly extravagant christmas presents in years when the carusos are doing well. none of these qualify as conducive to mental health.

thus, doctor google. most of the listed mental health tips seem either impossible—you’re not about to make new social connections, you’re not that self destructive—or plain old stupid, as in a stress ball. like a little rubber ball to squeeze. great stuff.

there’s a few things that you think you can tolerate, though. you end up working out every day in your apartment, volunteer stocking the shelves of a food pantry every tuesday morning right before bed, and tackle the miserably unorganized state of your post-michael finances. occasionally you’ll eat a salad, but you’ll curse richie as you do it.

cultivating mental health for its own sake is not something you’d usually engage in, but mental health as a one-sided competition that you are determined not to lose? it’s a tolerable game.

as for richie, he seems to be holding steady. the new and horrifyingly fancy specter of the bear does seem to freak him out, but at least the bear’s got a future. the beef, as far as you remember, only ever had a past.

though this winter’s turned bitter cold, you never invite him inside, not even past the double doors into the pathetic excuse of a lobby with its single fake potted plant. you had your one little breakdown and that’s fine. but the rules stay strong, and you get a little stronger. he tells you that eva liked the girl who loved horses the best, and you tell him she’s got good taste. there’s still bad nights, but there’s less fear. you haven’t fucked it up, that’s the point. you’re being good.

and then one day he doesn’t come back.

you’re not a fool. you wait for three days before letting yourself go.

on the third day, you have to wake up to administer alessandera’s iud at the stupidly early hour of eleven in the morning. afterwards, too caffeinated to rest, you decide that you might as well head to the library to check his instagram.

the most recent picture is from eight days ago, so that’s no help. his two pinned posts catch your attention anyway. in the first picture, eva’s got two blonde ponytails sticking out of opposite sides of her head, and her ponytail holders have huge round sky blue plastic beads on them. the smears of chocolate on her fingers match the ones on richie’s cheek, and they’re both giving the camera a goofy thumbs up.

in the second picture, it’s him and michael. they’re both grinning, squinting against the evening sun, and staring at something or someone just out of frame. lake michigan spreads out glorious behind their shoulders. it was probably a fishing trip. it’s got to be an old ass photo, cause they’re both wearing shirts that say the original berf of chicago and you stole michael’s in the summer of 2020. you needed to have something of his during quarantine, and you kept it even after quarantine ended. it’s still folded away in your dresser, protected by mothballs.

michael disappeared on you too. after you broke up, you kept texting him about meeting to give him back some of his things, but he wouldn’t answer. to be fair, all you had to do was ride the elevator up a couple floors and drop off a box by his door. but you kept texting him anyways, texting on into the silence, until finally it occurred to you: he was punishing you. two could play at that game. you stopped texting altogether, and that’s when it happened.

this is no number of push-ups or good deeds or leafy greens in the world that can defend against an experience like that. the silence was supposed to only last a week, a month at most, and then it became forever.

so yeah, you go to the beef. the bear. whatever.

so much for being good.

the restaurant is closed for renovations, so you go around to the back and find an unusual pair sitting, eating sandwiches off paper plates, and arguing about greta gerwig’s little women. you recognize both of them from richie’s instagram.

fak breaks off mid-rant and peers up at you from under his baseball hat, as bright-eyed as a squirrel spotting a potential nut. syd, on the other hand, looks neat and cool in an apron, kerchief, and cautious expression. she’s by far the more intimidating of the two to you, though maybe that’s just richie’s influence coming through. she’s on another level and you know it.

can i help you? syd says.

yeah, you say. where’s richie?

he’s out sick.

out sick, that makes sense. relief warms you like the first sip of hot coffee on an icy morning, and then you clock the expression on syd’s face. she’s shifted from suspicious to outright dubious.

why, she adds, does he owe you money?

ah, fuck. you were so worried that you forgot that when you’re wearing your big coat and your stoic face, you look like trouble.

nah, you say. he doesn’t owe me anything. is he okay?

from the way she stares, syd must think you bizarre, but she humors you. i mean, two days ago he texted me a video of three chimpanzees attacking a gorilla. is that okay? she shrugs. you tell me.

he’s such a fucking weirdo. why?

i don’t know, i told him that one of the restaurants i used worked at was a vegan place and he’s been sending me shit like that ever since. am i vegan? no, i’m not, but why should that make any difference, you know? who knows why richie does what he does.

who knows, you say. it’s fun to grumble about richie, but you don’t actually find him mysterious. one or two scares aside, he’s the easiest person to understand in the whole city.

i should probably call him, you say. can i borrow your phone?

sydney looks even more weirded out than before for a second, and then she seems to have a lightbulb moment, just as you see the back door opening.

he does owe you money, doesn’t he? syd says, exasperated, but not surprised.

quién le debe dinero a quién? says somebody in an undertone, and then tina appears, her curly hair a little shorter than the last time you saw her, but otherwise unchanged. when she sees you, her expression breaks into a smile of welcome while her eyes get complicated.

hey, julie, she says. how you doing?

usually, you hate it when people ask you that. but with her, you just don’t.

doing okay, tina. you?

oh, we’re doing good, right, chef? she says, with a fond glance at syd that seems to invite her in.

still fighting for our lives with an auditor, but yeah, syd says. we’re on track.

you want to walk with me? tina says to you, and you nod, grateful that she seems to have instinctively guessed what you need.

while you’re strolling out of earshot of the others, syd heads inside, which puts you on a ticking clock. the chances of carmy knowing your actual name are slim, but the chances of him coming out into the alley to investigate? those are dangerously high.

tina interrupts your train of thought, stopping by the chain link fence and turning to face you.

so what’s wrong? she says, and though she’s as warm and genuine as before, you are reminded by the glint in her eyes that she’s perceptive and tough and not to be fucked with. no wonder michael loved her so much. she was one of the few people who knew how to love him back without drowning.

does there have to be something wrong? you say.

not necessarily. but historically speaking? she says it almost apologetically.

yeah.

you only ever met her two times, both in his apartment, once in the dead of night and once in the middle of the day. you remember meeting her, but that’s all. in your mind, each emergency blends into the nexxt, and you don’t probe them for details. all you remember is that one time she was there, you called for an ambulance even though he ordered you not to, and he hated that. tina stood firm and carried on amidst all the shouting, even when you lost it.

it’s a wonder she’s being kind to you now, actually.

i still carry the narcan in my purse, tina says.

the nasal spray? you say. the stuff that you gave her after the scare in october ‘21. that’s good. gonna find somebody savable eventually, right? and that comes out way more bitter than you meant it to, but you can’t figure out a way to take it back fast enough.

there’s a hint of steel to tina’s voice, a reminder that she’s deliberately granting you her patience and could revoke it at any time, when she repeats, so what’s wrong?

you take out your burner phone, your sad little nokia, and show it to her.

i busted my old phone, lost all my contacts, and i don’t have the money for a new one right now, so this artifact is all i got. do you have richie’s number? you say meekly.

sure, she says, pulling it up and handing it over so easy that you’re startled. you’re not used to being given something that you need simply because you asked for it.

you take her phone with a quiet thanks and start typing his number and address into your own.

i looked for you at the funeral, she says. it stings, whether she meant it to or not.

well, you say, still typing and glad of the excuse to not look up at tina’s face, i figured i’d spare his mom the fun of having multiple women show up.

that’s not a fair hit, not the full story, but you don’t bother to clarify.

to your surprise, she doesn’t give you what you deserve. instead, she says, you still mad at him?

why even ask. aren’t you?

i was never mad at him.

you have to look up, and not just because you’ve run out of stuff to type.

never? that’s impossible.

not after, tina says, her brown honest. he was just a kid, you know?

he was a thief and an addict and older than you. but yeah, you know. you really do. he was just a kid.

you want to tell tina that she’s a better woman than you are, that to love and forgive at the same time is a trick that you can only envy. but you don’t know how to say that.

there’s another version, too, a simpler one, one that doesn’t compare the two of you. she’s sunlight and she’s concrete, the type of kindness that defies the laws of physics, and you can’t figure out how to say that to her either.

how are you doing? you say instead. you already asked her, but you didn’t really ask her in the way she had asked you. this time you try to do it right.

from the way she smiles, you know you got close.

i’m good, she says. really. all the stuff they’ve got us up to out here? herbs and shit, fucking french. i don’t know, it’s working. and they’re gonna send me to the cia.

delight looks good on her, and it’s infectious. you say, why not the fbi?

the culinary institute of america, dummy.

oh shit, the level up machine. you’ve heard of it before, of course, because it seems to have turned carmy into a rock star, so that’s gotta be a good thing, right? you gonna come back, kick his ass, and take over?

she grins. girl, you know i could already do that if i felt like it.

true, true. you’re grinning too, and god, it feels good.

and then, glancing over her shoulder at the sudden sound, you can see the back door open.

thank you, tina. you hand her the phone back, quick. if she notices the sudden change in you, she doesn’t let on.

anytime, she says, and presses her wrapped sandwich in your hand. here.

i can’t take your lunch.

she waves you off. nah, there’s more where that came from.

hey tina, a voice calls. it’s carmy’s, so you keep your eyes trained on tina and hope he doesn't recognize you at that distance.

thanks again, you say, and then you flee, clutching your sandwich.

richie doesn’t pick up and your first call goes to voicemail. you’re wound too tight to enjoy the bill murray of it all, so you just hang up and call again.

he picks up after the third ring.

what? he growls.

hey asshole, where are you, you say, just as abruptly, but so pleased to hear his voice.

richie barely skips a beat. you dont have to kill me, i’m already fucking dying, he says, which is his idea of reassurance.

yeah?

i mean, i’m alive, he says, like it’s a great concession. but for how long?

not much longer. where are you.

dead silence. this, you did not expect and have no idea what to do with. you snap, richie, where the fuck are you? in a voice that makes a passing woman give you a wide berth on the sidewalk.

calm your tits, secret agent. i’m on my fucking deathbed with saltines and espn, jesus christ. everything’s fine.

you’d really like to strangle him, but you don’t miss his hint. that’s his way of letting you out of this, secret agent, everything’s fine, so don’t cross a line and then regret it. thoughtful of him, but you’re already a world expert in regret. you’ve weighed your odds, you’ll take your chances.

i’ll be there in twenty, you say, unless you tell me to fuck off.

there’s a split second of hesitation before he says, will you bring me a popsicle?

no.

you hang up. then you go and buy some popsicles.

you dig out the ring of keys from your pocket, another inheritance. the gold key is for michael’s old place, the silver is for the beef, and the square-headed one is for richie’s. when you turn it in the lock, the door to his apartment swings open, easy as pie.

his apartment is a mess. worse, it’s dead dull, with only a few old movie posters hung up over the off-white walls for decoration. at least it doesn’t smell. there’s a kitchenette to your left, one huge and incongruously new ikea wardrobe to your right, and across from you, his bed. it’s shoved up right next to the far window, so the deep windowsill serves as a side table to a tiny succulent and a laptop streaming espn.

richie’s sprawled out sans blanket and sheets, which are all huddled in a lump at the foot of the bed. he’s not bothering to watch espn and he doesn’t bother to get up at the sound the door opening, either. just looks over and watches you.

you lock the door behind you and take your shoes off out of habit, even though you know you might have to get out fast. as you walk over to him, you encounter some dirty laundry along the way and kick it into the corner. then you’re at hit bedside, looking down at richie.

he’s lying there in a worn out grey t-shirt, looking up at you muzzy-eyed, sweating, and unsurprised.

come to finish me off? he says.

after a second, you say, open your mouth.

he gives you a look that says, i could argue if i fucking felt like it, but then he does open wide with a little aah like a kid getting his tonsils checked.

you take a quick glance inside, then close your hand to imitate a mouth closing, fingers meeting thumb.

he does as instructed, but you can tell by the glint in his eye that he’s got a joke locked and loaded, so you lean over and put the back of your hand to his forehead before he can say a thing.

as you expected, he goes quiet. his skin is hot and damp with sweat.

after a second, you withdraw and straighten up, touch still echoing on the on the back of your hand.

yeah, you’re fine, you say. dehydrated, low fever, but you’re fine.

and here i thought i was dying, richie says. he’s not usually subtle, but for once you can’t tell if he’s mocking you or not. is that for me?

he reaches for the plastic bag hanging from your shoulder, and you yank it back out of reach just in time.

business first. when did you take your last tylenol?

richie slumps sulkily back onto his pillow with a petulant look. you’re no fun when you’re in doctor mode.

then don’t get sick, asshole. tylenol?

this morning, he says, and then before you can volley a follow-up, he skips ahead. bathroom, behind the mirror.

as a reward, you sling the plastic grocery bag onto his bed before you go investigate.

sure enough, there’s a miniature pharmacy on the two small shelves behind the foldable mirror. at first glance, the only prescription stuff is xanax and pravastatin. you grab the tylenol and you’re just about to go when you notice, down at the bottom left corner, a small familiar white box edged in magenta. four milligrams of narcan, nasal spray, your old friend. you gave tina way more of it than she needed and told her to pass it on to anyone at the beef that she trusted, just in case. narcan’s not a cure, it just buys you a little time. that’s all you were doing by then, buying yourselves a little time.

looking at the box now, you suddenly feel sorry for richie. it’s been bad enough for you, and you’ve been living like a fucking vampire, no daylight, barely leaving your lair. richie’s had to go into the outside world, and the outside world fucking sucks. michael’s everywhere out there.

when you get back with the tylenol, richie has a grape popsicle already stuck in his mouth, the extra package of saltines on the windowsill by his side, and your sandwich in his hands. he’s trying to unwrap it when you snatch it away and deposit a tylenol in his palm instead.

with a shrug, he takes the popsicle out of his mouth and swallows the tylenol dry.

trying not to think too hard about that, you turn away and head to the kitchen.

cups? you say.

upper left. he’s watching you make your way through his space, you can feel it. so you went to the beef, huh.

yup. in the upper cabinet, there’s an assortment of cups, none of them matching. you pick the plastic one with dora the explorer on it, then go fill that with water.

richie says, you talk to carmy?

no, you say, with just enough edge on it to warn him off the subject. on your way back to his bedside, you pause to peek in his fridge and freezer. fuck me, did nobody ever teach you that man cannot live on microwave burritos alone?

news to me. what are you, some kind of fuckin gourmet?

you complete your circuit, come perch on the edge of his bed with the cup in your hand, and wait for him to sit up.

woman can live on frozen pizzas alone, that’s a whole different thing, you say.

uh huh. he slumps back against the headboard, then accepts the cup from you and drinks. in the silence, you watch him. the small movements of his throat, the glint of gold slipping out over the nape of his neck. he wears that cross even in his sleep. hopefully it protects him. something should.

you could sit here for a long time.

but the cup runs out of water fast, and there goes your excuse. you take it back from him and say, just for the sake of saying something, your interior design is severely lacking.

he scrunches up his nose when he smiles, a wry little smile interrupted by a sniff. thanks.

go back to sleep.

but he doesn’t. instead, he reaches for the remaining half of his grape popsicle, so you go for your sandwich, unwrap, and take a bite. this is as good as the middle of the night to your body clock, so you’re not one bit hungry. but food works just as well as a cigarette, permission for silence.

you get a sando and i get saltines? he says. talk about a raw deal, man.

mouth full, you say, these are actually pretty good, you know?

what, you didn’t think they would be? he scoffs. c’mon, i know you were never a regular, but the thing with the gun, that wasn’t your first time in.

so he remembered you. even before he knew you had any kind of connection to the beef, he remembered you.

you pretend not to notice.

i’ve just never had it with the peppers before, you say.

you’ve never had it with the peppers? his voice rises with each word.

i’m not normally a huge peppers girl, you say nonchalantly.

you’re a fucking heathen is what you are.

for that, you take an extra big bite and chew as loudly and disgustingly as you can.

it backfires immediately. he gags and presses his fist to his mouth, and you bolt to the sink to grab the trash can from under it, nearly tripping and hoping like hell he doesn’t throw up all over himself because you do not have it in you to do that kind of laundry. trash can in hand, you turn around to find that he’s giving you the thumbs up and grinning. not gagging at all, perfectly fine.

oh, fuck you. you put the trash can back, stalk over, and drop down onto the bed beside him again, petulantly this time, making the bedsprings squeak.

he’s still chuckling. you should’ve seen your face.

you know what my problem is? you say.

you think you have only one problem, j? i got news for you.

that’s not the first time anyone’s used that nickname for you, but you still like it.

my problem is that you’re not scared of me, you say. i need to make you more scared of me, and then you’ll treat me with the respect i deserve.

okay, well, fyi: you are already the third scariest person in the world to me, richie says.

the third? you echo with mock offense.

third is good, man. there’s stiff competition. like, you realize isis is still out there? his eyebrows raise and he gestures emphatically. and there’s a lot of them?

you snort. isis is not still out there.

i think they are. he tries to tick them off on his fingers. isis, al qaeda. and the other one. what’s the other one?

i think you need to stay well away from middle eastern politics when you’re running a fever, you say, getting up to go.

you said my fever was low!

and yet you’re fuckin addled. go back to sleep. with that, you head back towards the kitchenette to see what you can do.

his pantry turns out to be not quite as empty as his fridge, so you pick up a couple things and get to cooking him something basic and nourishing. no sense in trying anything impressive. you’ll be lucky if the result is passably tasty.

sunlight comes in through the window, throwing a rectangle of warmth on your shoulder. you retrieve a pot, a cutting board, a large knife.

eva’s his number one scariest person in the world, obviously. number two’s probably tiff? donna’s scary, but you get the sense that she’d be worse to her kids, or at least that it’d feel worse to be her kids. richie’s never directly talked about her, though he did made a couple bitter remarks early on about what he did for ‘the family’, and given that sugar hates his ass and carmy wasn’t around, it has to be donna he was trying to take care of. wait, maybe carmy’s number two. no, it’s tiff. it’s definitely tiff.

yo, richie says, what the fuck are you doing? stop.

you look up, bewildered. what?

he’s sitting at the edge of the bed with his feet flat on the floor, like he’s prepared to stand up and stop you. with the light coming in through the window at his back and the hanging lamp of the kitchenette throwing gold on his front, he really does look like he’s coated in sweat.

put the knife down, he says. commands from his mouth are usually fruitless protests issued for comedic effect, but not this time. you put the knife down.

you okay? you say it like a gentle person would, only to have your gesture immediately spoiled.

who taught you to cut onions like that? he says, like you’re physically hurting him. you do not cut onions like that!

oh my god, fucking stop me. you roll your eyes and pick up the knife again, only to hear a tell-tale grunt from richie. no, that was a joke. don’t—you throw down the knife with an annoyed clatter. i’ll be fine. just watch your baseball or something, okay? sorry i’m not fucking carmy and i can’t go all human food processor on it, but let me do my thing.

after a second, richie says, ‘s gonna taste like shit, isn’t it.

you want me to go? you say, stung.

no, richie says immediately. i just want to know what you’re gonna do with those onions.

you shrug, a touch defensively. i was gonna brown it, add a couple cans of campbell’s beef and barley. something like that. it’s really sad when you say it out loud, just two ingredients: onions and canned soup.

i don’t hate that, richie says.

you look at him warily, unsure of whether that’s meant as an insult or the world’s most pathetic compliment.

just curl your fingers when you cut, right? fuckin—he imitates, to show you how your left hand is supposed to be positioned, while he mimes chopping with his right. it really should not be charming. unfortunately, it kinda is.

yeah, yeah, you mutter, and then you go back to your cutting board and try to practice what he just taught you.

usually, you have protein bars for snacks, frozen pizzas for meals, takeaway for variety, and pre-bagged salads for your recent attempts at health, so it really has been ages since you cooked like this.

kind of feels like you’ve been missing out. there’s a peaceful feeling to this simple concentration, a bit like your work but without any of the stress. you take little breaks every now and again to prevent the onion from making you cry. with each break, you take a look at something new: the drawings from eva that he has pinned to the fridge, the poster for the movie white squall, the stack of books that look like somebody’s actually read them.

when you start shoveling slices of onion into the pot, richie calls over, don’t turn the heat up too high.

i won’t, you say, unbothered.

you get about thirty seconds of peace, stirring your onions as you add some oil, and then richie pipes up again.

seriously, he says, if it doesn’t brown fast enough, don’t turn the heat up, just—

the heat’s at four out of ten, fuck’s sake. your swearing is just for show, because you’re feeling nearly mellow. there’s something so soothing about the crackling sound of the onions in the hot oil. are you drinking your water?

i already drank it all!

not believing him, you walk over, only to find that the cup is indeed empty. you refill it, then linger for a second, trying to make sense of the baseball he’s streaming on his laptop.

look at this guy, richie says, referring to some player that you’ve never seen before in your life and probably never will again. the guy’s winding up to take a swing. you both watch. the guy hits a foul, and richie shakes his head in disgust. you grunt, noncommittal and happy, and return to your caramelizing onions.

by the time you’re done cooking, he’s asleep.

you pour out two bowls of soup and put the rest of it in the fridge. that plus the saltines are enough to get him through the night and another day. you doubt the fever will last much longer than that.

as you do the washing up, you make sure to scrub off every last bit of onion from the bottom of the pot, and then you leave all the clean dishes on the rack to dry.

between soup and saltines, richie should have enough for tonight and tomorrow, and you doubt the fever will last much longer than that. with the cooking and washing up is done, you walk over, sit on the bed beside him, and set down two bowls of soup on the deep windowsill that serves as his side table. his laptop has gone to sleep, and the silence in the absence of baseball is pretty much perfect. so is the sunlight.

you take off your hoodie, finally—you were starting to sweat yourself near the end there, thank goodness he was too sick to notice—and tug down your original berf shirt. it’s safe enough. richie’s out cold, snoring a little. with the tylenol doing its work, he’s not as sweaty as before, so you drag the sheets up from the foot of the bed and make sure they’re tucked over his shoulders.

taking out a sharpie from your coat pocket, you root around in the pile of assorted mail by his bedside until you come up with a pizza flier you can write on. you leave him the phone number of the burner you kept for michael. reason being, it’s the only number you know by heart, and you’re too tired to deal with any more unexplained absences.

after all, you figure, you can be good and still take it a little easier. that’s all you’ve done today, take it a little easier, and it feels really fucking good.

settling down, you reach over richie again to get your bowl and your spoon. the bowl is warm in your lap, and even though you weren’t hungry before, the act of cooking has worked up your appetite. the soup smells good to you: sweet, savory, a bit like childhood.

your father used to say grace at the table, and though you never do that anymore, there’s something still left to be said.

you know, you say, you’re the number three scariest person in the world to me too. you sit with that for a moment, and then you add, number two once told me he would shoot me in the face, so. there’s that.

richie looks completely harmless like this, slumped on his side under the sheets, turned a little towards you with his eyes closed. he’s way easier to talk to when he’s unconscious, go figure. you can't touch him, though.

drink your fucking water, you say quietly.

and then, still looking at him like he’s a photo to remember, you begin to eat your soup.

[ next chapter ] [ masterlist ]

@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie, @jackierose902109 — if anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #mine #readerfic #do i know you?#the bear imagine #diky #fluffy h/c in MY readerfic? it's more likely than you think!

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vcha-daily · 4 months

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Meet VCHA

VCHA (비춰) is a pre-debut global girl group under JYP Entertainment. The group was created from A2K (America2Korea), the project survival show. The group consists of Lexi, Camila, Kendall, Savanna, KG, and Kaylee. They released a pre-debut single, ‘SeVit (NEW LIGHT)’ on September 22, 2023. They released a second pre-debut single, ‘Ready for the World‘ on December 1, 2023. VCHA will make their debut on January 26, 2024.

Name Explanation: VCHA means to illuminate, to give shine to fans around the world.

Learn more about the members under the cut!

Name: Lexus Vang (Lexi)

DOB: Nov. 22, 2005

Position: Leader

MBTI: ISFP

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Official Color: White 🤍

Representative Emoji: 🦖

About:

She was the 1st member to be revealed.

– Lexi is ethnically Hmong.

– She was born in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, USA.

– She lives in Cook County, Chicago, Illinois, USA.

– Lexi did ballet for 12 years.

– She can make a really good Hmong-style papaya salad.

– Her favorite number is 22.

– Her favorite seasons are fall and winter.

– She loves to draw and paint.

– She grew up listening to R&B, pop, KPop, etc.

– Lexi really looked up to Misty Copeland, a ballet dancer.

– She was in the K-pop cover group Prism Kru. She joined in 2019.

– According to the other members, Lexi is the funniest.

– Lexi is a skilled cook, occasionally triggering fire alarms.

Name: Kiera Grace (KG)

DOB: Jun. 17, 2007

Position: Not confirmed

MBTI: Unknown

Zodiac: Gemini

Official Color: Pink 🩷

Representative Emoji: 🦄

About:

She was the 2nd member to be revealed.

– KG was born in St. Louis, Missouri, USA.

– She moved to Michigan, USA right after she was born and lived there until she was 13.

– KG moved to Los Angeles, California, USA in 2021.

– She is trained in musical theater.

– If she could open for anyone’s show, she would want to open for BLACKPINK.

– KG knows how to play the guitar, piano, and drums.

– Her favorite number is 12.

– Her favorite season is summer.

– Specialties: Singing & basketball.

– She enjoys playing football and basketball as well as skateboarding.

– Hobbies: Writing lyrics and playing the guitar.

– KG is not a natural blonde.

– Her role model is Taylor Swift.

– She started modeling at the age of 4 starting with Ford Models.

– Her original stage name was KG Crown (케이지 크라운) during her auditions.

Name: Camila Ribeaux Valdes

DOB: Aug. 10, 2005

Position: Not confirmed

MBTI: INFJ

Zodiac: Leo

Official Color: Green 💚

Representative Emoji: 🦌

About:

She was the 3rd member to be revealed.

– Camila is ethnically Cuban.

– She was born in Barcelona, Spain.

– Camila is from Quebec, Canada.

– She speaks Spanish, French, and English.

– Her favorite number is 8.

– Camila picked number 8 as it’s her grandma’s favorite number.

– Her favorite season is fall.

– Both of her parents are musicians.

– Specialties: Painting, drawing, acting, baking, & eating sour candies.

– She can impersonate Michael Jackson, Celine Dion, and Shakira while singing.

– Her role model is Shakira. Camila got inspired to get into music and start dancing & singing because of her.

– A hobby of hers is writing.

– She participated in La Voix Junior (The Voice Junior) 2016 and was in the top 3.

Name: Savanna Collins

DOB: Jul. 26, 2006

Position: Not confirmed

MBTI: ISFJ

Zodiac: Leo

Official Color: Orange 🧡

Representative Emoji: 🦦

About:

She was the 4th member to be revealed.

– Savanna was born in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, USA.

– She is half Venezuelan from her mom’s side and Trinbagonian from her dad’s side.

– Her favorite number is 18.

– Her favorite season is summer.

– Savanna’s favorite color is Green.

– She learns dances super quick.

– She can do handstands for a long time.

– A hobby of hers is gaming.

– Savanna has a collection of over 15 hats.

– Her role model is Michael Jackson because her dad would play a lot of his music around the house.

– Savanna was training to be a professional gymnast for 7 years, but she had to quit due to injury.

– She describes herself as the “swaggy dance teacher” of the group.

– Savanna has stated that she discipline from gymnastics which will help her in the Korean music field.

– She has a twin brother named Alonso and an older sister named Brianna Lauren (born 2001-2002).

– According to Camila, she describes Savanna as the most chill person and has a stylish, intricate hairstyle.

Name: Kaylee Lee

DOB: Nov. 24, 2009

Position: Maknae

MBTI: ISTJ

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Official Color: Blue 💙

Representative Emoji: Unknown

About:

She was the 5th member to be revealed.

– She was born in Olympia, Washington, USA.

– Kaylee is fluent in both English and Korean.

– She is very adamant and has a plan for everything she does.

– Her favorite number is 24.

– Her favorite season is fall.

– She has a big collection of Harry Potter.

– Specialties: Eating, baking, talking, and writing.

– Her role models are TWICE, their song ‘TT‘ was one of the first songs she remembers listening to.

– Her mom was a muisc major.

– She enjoys writing and reading.

– Kaylee started training singing one week before the final audition and learned her performance three days beforehand.

– According to Savanna, Kayle is funny as she’s straightforward.

Name: Kendall Ebeling

DOB: Jun. 1, 2006

Position: Not confirmed

MBTI: ISTJ

Zodiac: Gemini

Official Color: Black 🖤

Representative Emoji: 🐰

About:

She was the 6th and last member to be revealed.

– She is from Fort Worth, Texas, USA.

– Kendall is ethnically half Vietnamese and half Caucasian (American).

– Kendall has an older sister named Aimee (born 2003-2004).

– She attended a K-pop immersion in Korea and even got to perform with fellow classmates.

– Kendall has stated that music is her life.

– She did ballet for 5 years, as well as jazz, theater, and lyrical.

– Her favorite number is 4.

– Her favorite season is winter.

– Specialties: School, art, gaming, shaking pupils, and closing one eye without moving the other.

– She grew up listening to choral and gospel music.

– Kendall attended McLean Middle School. She was a part of the choir and was soprano 1’s 4th chair. Kendall was also a part of the cross country team.

————————————————————————

*Please note that all information comes from VCHA’s group page on kprofiles.com

#vcha #jyp #jyp entertainment #jypartists #kpop #kpop gg #kpop icons

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chickensaladquinn · 1 year

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Quinn and his Chicken Salad pt. 3

Other Parts: Pt. 1 Pt. 2

The Hughes brothers have been reunited for the summer at their Michigan lake house. Excited to see each other and catch up, they waste no time making their way down to the dock to spend some time on the boat.

"Nothing like crackin one open with the boys" Jack says, sipping on his ice cold bev. Luke pouts, as he is underage and his brothers won't let him partake in the drinking festivities. He must drink juice boxes.

Opening the cooler, Quinn grabs another drink along with his favorite snack, some chicken salad. Jack quirks an eyebrow. This is a bit odd.

"Bro, why you got so much chicken salad?" Jack inquires.

Quinn simply replies with his favorite and most used phrase. "It's a chicken salad" he says, putting a finger up to his mouth.

"Dawg, I knew you always liked chicken salad but I didn't know it was this intense," Luke says, side-eyeing the cooler.

Jack sniffs the chicken salad. "Is this mommy's secret chicken salad recipe?" He asks.

"Obviously. It's my favorite. I have her mail me some every week when I'm in Vancouver. The boys on the team have started calling me Chicken Salad Quinn, heh," Quinn giggles a bit. Jack and Luke look at each other, then back at Quinn.

"You're a freak!" Jack says. Quinn lowers his eyes to the cooler full of chicken salad. He visibly deflates, his shoulders sagging. "I know," he says, "But I just can't stop. It's just a part of who I am."

Luke puts a reassuring hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Don't worry huggy bear, we accept you for who you are, no matter what. We're the Hughes brothers and we have to stick together.

Quinn wipes a tear away from his eye. "Thanks Luke."

Jack gives Quinn a hug. "I'm sorry for lashing out. Maybe I need to be more open minded. Give me some of that chicken salad."

Quinn breaks out into an uncharacteristically large smile. He scoops out some chicken salad for Jack and Luke, and they all eat it together while watching the sun set over the lake.

Things may not always be perfect in the Hughes household, but they sure do know how to lift each other up.

AN: wow this one brought a tear to my eye. Ideas for pt 4?

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drpeppertummy · 9 months

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alternate result of [this]

[semi-unwilling stuffing, tummy rubs]

"This is my boyfriend, Sunny," Laurie cheerfully lied. Sunny blushed and smiled sweetly up at her grandparents.

"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking their hands.

"Oh, honey, I am so proud of you," said her grandmother, hugging Laurie tightly.

"You finally got yourself a man," her grandfather said approvingly. "About time!" Laurie smiled widely at him, and Sunny thought she looked like she wanted to bite his head off.

"Oh, he is just the cutest little thing," her grandmother exclaimed, pinching Sunny's cheek. Laurie covered her mouth and turned away, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, he's alright," she giggled.

"But he's so skinny," her grandmother went on, "don't you ever feed the poor dear?" Laurie laughed out loud.

"Believe me, Grandma, he eats like a pig."

"Hey!" Sunny glared up at her.

"Well, he seems like a fine young man," her grandfather said, giving Sunny a firm slap on the back that nearly knocked him over. "What do you do for a living, Sunny?"

"Oh, um, I work at my sister's restaurant."

"Ah! You cook? I hope you brought something good tonight!"

"Oh! Yeah, I made ziti."

In addition to the ziti, which was Sunny's go-to party dish, Laurie's parents had made sauerbraten, spätzle, and potato salad, and Laurie herself had baked a beautiful chocolate poundcake for dessert. Her grandparents rarely flew in from the faraway land of Michigan, so whenever they did, it was a special occasion. Along with all the cleaning and cooking, Laurie had decided to add one more task to her list of preparations: fabricating a relationship. As much as she loved her grandparents, she was sick to death of them hounding her about finding a man. Men were low on her list of priorities. She wasn't even sure she wanted one at all. She did, however, happen to have one on hand.

Laurie and her parents, who, of course, were in on the scheme, were thoroughly amused by Sunny's unusual behavior that evening. Sweet, shy, and polite were far from the first words any of them would've used to describe him, but sweet, shy, and polite he was. Laurie found herself wondering whether he was simply acting or whether the occasion had unlocked a side of him she'd never seen before.

The family sat down to eat, and Laurie's grandmother reached out and dropped another scoop of potato salad onto Sunny's already full plate. He looked up, surprised.

"There, you need to eat," she said, giving him a pat on the back. "You need to put some meat on your bones if you're gonna keep up with her."

"Grandma!" Laurie exclaimed.

"Oh, uh, thank you," Sunny said uncertainly. He wasn't entirely sure what that was supposed to mean, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

As they ate, Sunny found himself filling up quickly. Beef wasn't something he ate frequently, and combined with the onslaught of pasta and potatoes, it was a bit much for his stomach. He was wearing a soft sweater that night--Laurie had been very firm in her directions to not look too slutty--so his bloated tummy wasn't as obvious as it normally would've been, but it still poked out enough for her to notice. Her grandmother, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice at all. As soon as Sunny finished his plate, she began piling more onto it before he could protest.

"Have a little more, why don't you," she said, dropping another hunk of sauerbraten in front of him.

"Oh--uh--no thanks, um, I'm pretty full," he stammered.

"Come on," she insisted. "You're so skinny! I don't think you eat enough." She plopped a big spoonful of spätzle onto his plate, firmly patted his shoulder, then returned her attention to her own food. Sunny looked nervously up at Laurie. She shrugged. He looked back down at his plate, picked up his fork, and started eating. He was already a little too full, and the growing tightness in his stomach was getting uncomfortable. Still, he couldn't be rude to Laurie's grandmother. Despite his stomach's protests, he pushed on.

"So," said her grandmother, "when are you two having kids?" Laurie choked on her soda, and Sunny nearly dropped his fork. He patted her back as she coughed.

"Um! We haven't really thought about it," said Laurie between coughs. Her mother covered her face, trying not to laugh.

"Well, don't go waiting too long," said her grandmother.

"We'll see!" Laurie said, smiling uncomfortably. Sunny nodded in awkward agreement. He quietly cleared his throat and returned to his food.

Sunny was beginning to feel ready for a food coma. The meat and carbs were bulky and heavy in his stomach, and he'd ran out of space several bites ago. He rested his free hand on his belly. It was very tight, and starting to become more noticeable even under his sweater. He paused and set his fork down for a moment, looking sleepy. Laurie's grandmother noticed his hesitation.

"Are you feeling alright, Sunny? Aren't you going to finish your dinner?"

"Mom, I don't think he can eat any more," chuckled Laurie's mother. "You stuffed the poor guy like a turkey."

"Oh!" exclaimed Laurie's grandmother. "Oh my goodness, I didn't even notice. Here, honey, I'll finish off the rest."

After they finished eating and cleaning up, the family sat for a while and chatted. Laurie and Sunny sat together on the couch, arms around each other. He was fighting off sleepiness and trying to remain alert to the conversation. Being pressed against Laurie wasn't helping. She was soft and warm, and she was subtly rubbing the side of his overstuffed belly with the hand she had around his waist.

Finally, it was time for her grandparents to return to their hotel. Everybody exchanged hugs--her grandmother squeezed Sunny so tightly he thought he was going to pop--and they made their way out. Sunny yawned as he and Laurie watched them drive off.

"I owe you one for that," she said, patting his tummy. "You alright?" He nodded, then looked up at her.

"Hey, when are you gonna get me pregnant, anyway?"

"Shut the fuck up, Sunny!"

#writing #belly kink #tummy kink #stuffing #stuffed belly #xlauriex #xsunnyx

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blood-trip-god2 · 7 days

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Welcome back to Blood Trip Eats

Back in Michigan for some college football, thankfully not looking to be a pain in the ass or stressful this time. Flew in today and just got back from dinner. So, without further ado, let's get to the latest installment of BTE

Chose the Korean spot around the corner from my hotel. Seoul Garden brought the flavor

Always got to enjoy a beverage with your meals went with a Mai Tai. Saw the bartender juice the pineapple himself and the sour mix was homemade too. Very good

_____

Ordered some beef dumplings as an appetizer and as any reputable Korean spot should, I got all the sides. We got pickled radish, Kimchi, broccoli, fish cake and mashed tater salad.

Also, I didn't open the covered bowl until my entree came. I knew it was rice but I wasn't expecting it to be PURPLE.

Sorry if the picture doesn't do it justice

____

I didnt feel like doing Korean BBQ today so i elected to order off the regular menu. Still got BBQ but i didnt need to to cook it myself. My entree was the BBQ combo of Honey BBQ pork and the spicy seafood soup

#queue your spiritual guide #blood trip eats #traveling #work sucks but food is amazing #korean food

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attorney-george · 1 year

Note

Hey George! Glad to see you’re enjoying your time on tumblr! I’ve brought a gift, a salad!

*hands over ambrosia salad*

Right now, my wife and I are trapped in Michigan, but we’re working on fixing that issue. How are you doing?

- @kurt-tessy

Hey Kurt!

Glad to be here, even though I'm not entirely sure what I'm gonna do with this blog lol. Might just post some venty poetry. Can you still poke people like on the Facebooks?

Thanks for the salad but...uh...I'm not sure if I can eat this. I don't like coconut. Or pineapple. And it looks kind of...unappealing. Also it's not a bloody salad.

Hope the family is well. Give Quinn a nose boop from me. Heart emoji. (I haven't figured out emojis yet, forgive me.)

Yours,

Vivian George

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motownfiction · 1 year

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flatlands

And once again, it’s a move that keeps Sam from love.

He’s twenty-nine, the year he’s supposed to be getting scared. At least, this is all according to his mother, who looks at love and marriage much like she’s living in the middle of Pride and Prejudice. Status and security. Sam always jokes that his mother is a feminist until he mentions he might not want to get married. Then it’s all about finding a wife (and it’s almost always a wife) and making sure she’s little more than Mrs. Sam Doyle, the mother of the children he’s not so sure he wants, either. These days, he can’t stop thinking about all the things he doesn’t want. Even their figments are getting in the way.

This time, he thought he could have loved another woman – the second woman in all his life. Valerie Gaynor, a pretty woman with long blue hair and mischievous eyes … the best kind of eyes, the ones that say you’re going to get into trouble, but you’re going to be so kind and generous about it. They met in the music store. Valerie was buying a copy of London Calling for a friend who just discovered that music is good; Sam was just taking a walk down the only aisles he’s ever felt comfortable in. She’s five years younger than Sam, about ten times as brash, and considers herself on the move. When she and Sam met last winter, she was twenty-three and in the middle of her first year of graduate school. Master’s in ethnomusicology from Michigan. Apparently, she’s another one of those geniuses. Apparently, Sam has a type.

And they could have been in love. Some days, Sam thinks he really did love her. Some days, when he would sing that Monkees song at her (I love her, Valleri!), he knows he did. But then, Valerie got the letter. Philadelphia’s calling, and they’re offering her an Ivy League Ph.D. in the thing she loves best.

Well. The thing she loves second best.

She asks Sam to go with her, but he says he can’t go. That he loves her (Doesn’t he?), but he can’t leave home. It’s home. His whole life is here. Always has been. Valerie’s quick to remind him that it’s been a long time since his whole life was anywhere. His best friends moved out of state five years ago. His sister is raising two little kids; his brother has a little daughter. Valerie knows how he feels about his mother (complicated). And besides, Sam is the manager of a record store. He can do that from anywhere.

But he just won’t. He just won’t, and he sends her packing on her own.

He’s not sure why anyone would live in Philadelphia unless they had to go to school there. As he tells Valerie, even Boyz II Men had to bring Motown into the City of Brotherly Love (which he feels less and less lately, but he’s not going to admit to that – not to anyone, much less the woman who’s about to leave him behind). Valerie just rolls her eyes and reminds him that Boyz II Men signed with Motown, and they still had to move to Philadelphia to have their hit. She says it’s all in the way you look at it. Sam knows there’s something for him to get, but he refuses. On principle.

Valerie asks him if this is really what he wants. To live in the Midwest forever. To live in the flatlands of the U.S. To eat butter cake and Jell-O salads at every birthday, retirement, and graduation party he ever attends for the rest of his life. To always live a stone’s throw away from his old high school. Flatlands, she calls it again, as though Sam didn’t pick up on the metaphor before. Flatlands. Static. Unchanging. He gets it.

But he’s not going anywhere. These flatlands are his home. The place where he’s always been most like himself. The place where he’s always liked himself most.

He’s not done choosing himself.

When Valerie kisses him and turns around for the last time, he’s sorry, but not for staying.

He doesn’t understand why she would want to leave.

He doesn’t understand why anyone leaves.

(part of @nosebleedclub december challenge -- day xiii! i’m behind, which is to be expected at this time in the semester 😭)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: sam doyle #ch: valerie gaynor #year: 1996

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fireintheflames · 8 months

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Some General Low Energy Cooking Ideas Pt 1

As we head towards fall here in Michigan, I'm gonna start losing my summer energy, so I thought I'd put together a list of relatively low energy meals/snacks now so when the big annual winter depression hits I don't have to think about it and I eat less delivery! I've also labeled which ones don't need a fridge, because my fridge is like a weird cursed location where if it goes in, it doesn't come out. This is a multi-part series, since I will probably run out of space!

Pt 1: No Cooking/No Dishes/Minimal Clean-up These meals require the bare minimum of effort. No heating, no dishes, most only have a wrapper as trash. Downside is a lot of these can be expensive for what you get. Breakfast: -High Cost:Cliff/Granola/Protein Bars. I keep a box around at all times for breakfast, I really like the caffeinated ones because I hate making coffee in the morning! A nice, easy treat! Can be expensive, but you pay for convenience I guess. (No fridge required) -Gummi vitamins! No calories, but a little treat to start the day! I do a multivitamin, vitamin D, and fiber chews. (No fridge required) -No prep fruits, like grapes. I keep a bowl full of whatever was on sale (apples, plums, ect.) on my counter to eat, and always have bananas (more on those later). (No fridge if you buy small amounts and eat it consistently, fridge is necessary for bulk storage of most fresh fruits) -Pre-cut fruits, like the kind fruit trays have. Same concept, more refrigeration, more likely to contain watermelon (I suck at hydrating, watermelon is my friend) (Fridge absolutely required, these will get nasty fast if left out). -Dried fruits, especially craisins/raisins. Just bare fist those straight out of the container. (No fridge required) Can be combined with the below: -Cereal out of the bag! Works best with cereal with big chunks and no powders, think like Kix or captain crunch. Avoid cinnamon toast crunch and similar beasts, your hands get coated and sticky. (No fridge required) -Small yogurt drinks, like yakult or kafir. Single serve milk or juice cartons can also fill this niche, but I've only got one fridge and I am more likely to drink the yogurt. (Please keep yogurt and milk in the fridge. Juice boxes are usually shelf stable, but always check!) -Trail mix. Kars is the best, pick your flavor. Or you can make your own in advance and live off that! (No fridge required) -UCC canned coffee. This stuff is the bomb if you can find it. It's like the only non-sweet coffee drink out there. (No fridge required, but definitely best when cold. Can in theory be heated in a mug, but that's cooking adjacent for me) -High Cost: Soylent drink/meal replacement shakes/drinks. An absolute last resort, usually expensive and bad tasting, but damn if they don't replace a meal. This is specifically referring to the pre-made ones, not the powder. The coffee mocha Soylent is tolerable, otherwise pick your poison between weirdly powdery chocolate milks. (Don't get the ones that need refrigeration unless you like them. I don't, this is my desperation food and does not deserve a place in my fridge).

Lunch/Dinner: -Snack pack tuna kits. My go to for lunch, usually comes with crackers, a tuna salad can, the big ones have cookies and fruit! Run usually between $1.00 and $3.00, depending on size and brand! I like the Rosemary and Garlic ones from bumblebee. You can also make your own with tuna pouches/cans and crackers, but that does require a spoon. (No fridge required) -Lunchables. Pizza lunchables. Get the kind with the juice box when they are on sale, off brand works just as well! (Should be kept in a fridge, but probably fine for a day or two if you forget) -Baby carrots/snap peas/tiny tomatos. Get some veggies in ya! Best when fresh picked, but this is winter in MI, so more likely bought from meijer.(Fridge recommended if you don't want them to dry out, or if you don't eat the whole bag at once. Fresh picked during summer should be eaten straight off the plant, as nature intended (or rinsed for safety)) -Cheese sticks and meat, I usually go with pepperoni or beef jerky, but in theory any pre-cooked non-heated meat works. (Fridge highly recommended) -Pita bread and pre-made tabbouleh. This shit is the bomb. No need for a plate, that's what the pita's for! (Refrigerate the tabbouleh, if any survives. I will eat a container of tabbouleh in one go. It's so good! You can sub hummus, I just don't like the texture) -Chips and salsa. I just dip straight into the jar, but I understand that is both bad form and not always feasible. Tostitos scoops work best for this maneuver. Can also be done with cheese dips and pretzels, queso in jars, and any other sort of pre-made dip. (Some dips require a fridge, some don't. Chips and pretzels do not). -High cost: Shrimp cocktail platter. Remember to thaw, then eat. Best when paired with veggies. (Freezer/Fridge Required)

Deserts/Snacks (obviously there are whole aisles dedicated to this at most American grocery stores. I'm just gonna list my favorites that have some form of built in portions. You will note that I like crunchy textures.): -Strawberry wafer cookies. Even the low sugar ones are good! Nice and crunchy. Pirouettes and similar also fall in this category(No fridge required) -Fig newtons! Apple newtons! Most neutigrain bars! Date bars Give me some fruit filling!(No fridge required) -Cherry poptarts, frosted. Pretty much any "breakfast pastry" works better as a desert for me. Many granola bars fall in this category as well (looking at you, peanut butter chewy dippers). If it's marketed to kids, it's a dessert for me! (No fridge required, but General Mills Chewy Dipeprs are best cold.) -Fruit snacks, especially the fruit veggie snacks. Individual packs are good for me, because these things are the bomb!(No fridge required) -Any of the Kalbee baked snacks. Pea pods, shrimp chips, weird crab flavored things my beloved. They stab you when you eat them, thus preventing me from eating them all!(No fridge required) -Salt and vinegar chips. They prevent you from eating too many by being physically painful. Kettle chipped increases both the damage and delight.(No fridge required) -High Cost:Ice cream novelties~ Popsicles! Orangesicles! Klondike bars! I really like Coconut Outshine bars, they are expensive but so good!! (Freezer required)

#actually blogging for once #long post

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