#fated fussy friday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

howardpotts · 4 years

Text

four: buy your pretty heart

Love on the Brain - Masterlist in links

Pairing: MobBoss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and violence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer?

Chapter warning: Uhmm none, i think.

A/N: I haven’t uploaded in a while, but I had some unplanned hiatus. It’s just that a lot has happened privately that made me lose interest in anything. I hope this chapter is any good, since it’s been written in small pieces in the last 3 months.

Let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

You thought you were going to spend your entire day daydreaming about the night before, instead you were thinking over and over about what has happened.

Even when Wanda was gushing to you about that girl and how they spent the entire night dancing, kissing, talking - you had a hard time to keep your thoughts away and your focus on her. She looked tired, just as you. Big bags under her eyes, hair was a little bit more fussy than normal. You tried to cover your tiredness with makeup, which was pretty well done in your opinion.

You were grateful it was friday, meaning that you could focus on other stuff on the weekend. Take your mind of whatever happened today, trying to suppress it til monday; when Steve is going to take you out on dinner and, well, probably fuck you senseless after.

“Lets go shopping after school”, Wanda stated. She had a date on sunday and she knew that you were going to meet with Steve on monday. You told her about yesterday night, but you didn’t dare to tell her what happened this morning. You didn’t want to get her in any kind of trouble.

“Wan, you’re a genius”, you admitted, smirking to her. She claps her hands in excitement, her golden bracelets sounding like bells, making her look even more enthusiastic.

You slumbed out of your class, eyes a little foggy from all the staring to the screen in front of you. The teacher had you noting everything he said on your computer. It couldn’t get any more boring than it already was - and that on a friday afternoon.

“What kind of dress are you looking for?”, you asked Wanda, trying to shake away the boring class. She hooked her arm into yours as you walked through the busy hallways of the school. You both didn’t care to look who was walking around, you just wanted to get out of here and into the city, focussing on way more exciting things.

“I think something laced. Black, maybe? Or would that be a bit too tame?”, she asks you.

“Depends on the dress”, you respond. “A little bit of lace, a shape that makes your figure look like candy and it can serve you well.”

The fresh air gives you new energy when you step outside. It’s pretty cold outside, but for February, it’s actually quite nice.

A call of your name has you looking around. Some guy approaches you. Brown hair, little bit ruffled. You have never seen him in your life. “Steve sent me. He wanted me to give you this.”

A big grin on Wanda’s face, and you fake one too. It isn’t that you don’t like Steve, but at this moment you were a little bit terrified of what could be in the package. You want to , thank the guy, but he’s already walking down the stairs, acting like he never spoke to you.

“Open it, open it!”, Wanda squeals enthusiastically.

Your heart could jump out of your chest when your hand moves to open the package.

There’s a little note on top of it, almost flying out of the box as the wind waves lightly in the box. You grab it quickly and turn it around.

Wear this and nothing else.

Wanda giggles, you blush. A little paper still hides what exactly is in the box but Wanda’s patience is wearing thin and she gets rid of it as quickly as you can blink.

There’s a black jacket in it. On the inside a label saying ‘BALMAIN’.. Wait, that’s designer right? That’s a pretty well known brand. Not that you expected Steve to get you some cheap stuff, but designer? Did he really put that much money into you or did he send this to every other girl, asking it back after wearing it once? Ew, no, he didn’t do that. That’s disgusting.

“BALMAIN?”, Wanda gasps. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Where the hell did you find this guy- Don’t answer that.”

“That’s pretty expensive, right?”, you ask. Her eyes turn big as she watches you.

“Yes, that’s fucking expensive”, she calls, still impressed by the gift in your hands. “And we’re not talking hundreds here, darling. We’re talking thousands. Two, maybe three.”

“Thousand?”

“Thousand!” She throws her hands in the air to give the words even more of a drama effect.

You don’t know what to say. Or do. It’s kind of overwhelming, to be honest. You’ve met the guy not even 24 hours ago, and he already gave you the responsibility to decide a man's fate and now he gave you a jacket worth thousands. You have to admit that it creeps you out. Alarm bells are going off, warning you to cut him out of your life and find a good man. One that will swoon your parents and will probably be better for you than he’ll ever be.

But you’re flattered at the same time. Why would someone like him - a man with charm, looks, grace, money and a lot of female attention - invest money in someone like you? You’re not special in any way. You’re as average as can be. You’re a communications student, living in some apartment with two other roommates because you can’t afford to rent one for your own. You have some kind of barista job in the weekends, trying to earn enough to pay for your rent, food and some fun activities.

“Maybe we should drop this first”, you suggest, looking at the box in your hands.

As you walk, Wanda starts talking about her night. “She was amazing”, she sighs. “I walked up to her and straight up told her how beautiful she looked. Later on she told me she liked that directness, that no one ever does that to her.”

You’re so happy for Wanda. She’s been crushing on this girl for a few weeks now, but never acted on it. Apparently everyone thought that the girl was pretty intimidating.

“Wait, what was her name again?”, you ask, interrupting her story.

“Maria”, she answers quickly before picking up her story again. “Anyway, we started dancing, but I wasn’t sure if she was into women. So I kept my distance, and so did she, so I got more and more insecure. I looked over at you and saw you chatting with some guy. When I looked back, I saw her checking me out. And I’m not talking about girl-ready-to-bitch kind of checking, but the lesbian kind of checking.”

You chuckle. Her stories were always this over the place - but it was fun to listen to. She always knew how to keep you interested, waiting eagerly on how the story is going to end.

“So that kind of felt like my que. Wow, I say a lot of ‘kind of’, don’t I? Anyway, I moved a bit closer, gave her my famous flirty eyes.”

You walk over a crosswalk and turn right after, only two streets away from your apartment.

“Did you kiss?”, you ask, not being able to wait anymore. You need to know.

“Oh honey, we didn’t just kiss. We made out, we did the dirty, we went down town, we-”

“Yeah, okay, I get it”, you laugh. She chuckles and pushes you lightly when you fake roll your eyes.

“Will you see her again?” Her eyes glow up after you ask that question. She nods furiously as she grabs her phone, showing you a few messages. Excitedly, you squeal lightly.

“Thank you a thousand times for joining me last night”, she sighed as she hooked her arm in yours once again. A content feeling settles in you as you walk further. A few seconds of silence between the two of you. Cars pass by, people sometimes almost bump in to you as you walk further down the street.

“And your night had to be pretty exciting as well, right?”, Wanda breaks the silence, wiggling her eyebrows. You nod, a little smirk on your lips.

“God, it was good”, you sigh. You tell your story shortly but swiftly, letting details pass and not mentioning what happened the morning after.

“And more than a one night stand?”, she asks you as you stand in front of your apartment door. You give her a quick look before focussing on letting yourself in.

“I’m not sure”, you say. “I think we just want to booty call each other. And apparently giving me gifts.”

You let yourself in your room and drop the box on your bed. Again you open it, this time taking the jacket out. It turns out to be longer than you thought. He was quite serious about not wearing anything else. The jacket is long enough for you to cover up everything you want to hide from the public. But it also shows enough to seduce him. And he knows that.

“Can you please stay another hour?” Your manager, Sarah, looks at you with her big puppy eyes. “Pretty, pretty please?”

A little smirk is on your face as you roll your eyes. “What would you do without me?”, you say as you put on the brown apron again, after taking it off just a minute ago.

“I would be homeless and a failure. Thank you a thousand times!”, she cheers as she grabs your shoulder to give it a little squish. You smile and walk back into the little cosy cafe. It was pretty crowded, with a little line of five people waiting outside to get a free table.

Slowly you check your half of the cafe, the front half. Your colleague, Brent, watches over the other half and Sarah is behind the bar making the best coffee of the city. She owns the cafe and made it a big success, promoting her selfmade cookies and waffles as her original trademark. And it works. Whenever it isn’t busy, you make small talk with the customers and they always tell you that they’ve heard from someone else that they had to try one of her delicious cookies.

A man puts his hand in the air, making a little gesture to come over. You put on your smile and walk over. “How can I help you?”

“Why don’t you start by giving your number?”, he smirks. “And a cappuccino.”

Your hand balls into a fist, nails digging into your flesh as you watch his smug face. He watches you. Not even your face, but your body. He checks you out.

“Sorry sir, we’re not allowed to give out personal information to our customers”, Brent hops in from behind you. You turn your back to the customer and mouth a little ‘thank you’ to him.

You walk towards Sarah and ask her for the cappuccino the guy asked for. As much as you’d like to not serve him his coffee, you still had to be customer-friendly.

“Why don’t we switch sides ‘til the d-bag over there leaves this place?”, Brent asks when he stands beside you before focussing on Sarah. “Oh and a latte plus a chocolate chip cookie for table fifteen.”

You nod, a little smile appearing on your face. You couldn’t be happier with your colleagues and your boss, they were all so attentive and supportive to each other. There was this atmosphere that made you enjoy the work you were doing. You’ve worked at other places where the ambience was a little bit different.

The cappuccino appears on the counter, not a second later it’s in Brents hands and he walks towards the guy. It wasn’t the first time someone asked for your number - and you wouldn’t be annoyed if he asked about it nicely. But the arrogance on his face and his eyes on your boobs did not make a good first impression.

“And the latte, cookie’s coming right up”, Sarah sighs as she put down the latte. You give her a quick smile. She grabs a small white plate and puts a napkin on it first before grabbing the wobbly cookie.

See, the thing about Sarah’s cookies was that it wasn’t just your ordinary round cookie. It was a bit thicker, but still moist from the inside. It was a little bit warm, the chocolate was on the edge of melting, and the sugar wasn’t as overwhelming as most are. The moment you had your first cookie, you fell in love. You actually had to watch yourself to not overeat, restraining yourself to one cookie a week.

As you walk to table fifteen, you take a quick look at it already. Just swiftly taking in the customer to decide what kind of small talk you can make. Most of the time you could see it in a splitsecond; some were here just to work, some were here for some social acts, and with some you had to guess.

But this one had you by surprise. He made your breath stuck in your throat. How in the living hell did he end up here? Did he stalk you?

“One latte and a chocolate chip”, you say nervously. With a little shake, you put down the latte. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

His blue eyes meet yours, making you hot all over. You’re not sure if it’s because of the nerves, because of the things he made you feel or because of the morning you’ve witnessed at his place.

“It’s my regular. I didn’t expect you’d work here”, he countered. You give him a little smirk as you also put down the cookie. “Did Paul give you the package?”

“Yes, he did.” You didn’t know what else to say. To say it’s beautiful? That you like it? That you’ll wear it? That’d be cheesy.

“Good. I hope to see you in it tomorrow”, he smirks as he takes a sip from his latte.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t”, you tease as you turn around, moving your hips a little bit more as you walk to your next customer.

Tags: (OPEN)

@mcueveryday @mschellehitt @thamuddagirl @buckysthot @what-if-i-am-weird @myspectacularfantasies @ornella0910 @steeeeverogers @babygirl-htx @estillion14 @my-super-musical-life @tranquil--heart @golddaggers @swanlakemikey @notyourtypicalrose

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #captain america x reader #mobboss!steve #mobboss #mobboss!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au #steve rogers x you #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader

155 notes · View notes

certain-as-the-sun · 4 years

Text

Hey Jealousy

A High School-is AU. Inspired by the Gin Blossoms’ song of the same name. Contains: Alcohol Abuse, miscarriage, unwanted sexual touching.

Hey Jealousy

Tell me do you think it'd be all right If I could just crash here tonight You can see I'm in no shape for driving And anyway I've got no place to go And you know it might not be that bad You were the best I'd ever had If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago I might not be alone

It was a rainy night. Belle sat in her father’s house on the edge of town, far enough away that she got the peace and quiet she craved, but still close enough that running errands into town wouldn’t take all day. She sat in her favorite chair, a hot mug of tea steaming beside her. Her bookcase gleamed in the firelight, beckoning her to choose from her vast collection. Tonight was a night she didn’t want to dwell on. Five years ago her whole world changed. Her first love had been lost to her. Her true love if she still believed in fairy tales. They had been so good together. They had their lives figured out. She would finish school, open her bookshop and live happily ever after. Fate it seemed, was not as kind. The accident wasn’t Adam’s fault. He knew that, but it didn’t stop people from talking. Small town like theirs, it didn’t take long for word to spread about the group of teenage boys who took a joy ride that left one dead.

Adam never could hold his alcohol. He tried so many times to quit. Rehab, counseling. Through it all, there had been Belle. She was the one constant in his ever changing life. He was trying. He was trying to be who he needed to be, who Belle needed him to be. But there are some demons that are just too hard to get rid of. Orphaned at ten, bounced around from home to home. He was an angry young man, a temper that could explode at the smallest of things. He starting drinking at a young age, stealing what he could from his less than desirable foster parents. He fell in with the wild crowd. The kind of boys who stole cars, drank, partied hard. It landed him in a group home for at-risk boys.

He was adopted at sixteen by an older gay couple. Cogsworth and Lumiere could not have been more opposite in their manners and appearance. Cogsworth was portly and fussy. Lumiere was flamboyant and loud. Between them, they showered Adam with the love and acceptance he had so desperately needed. They got him into AA, helped him find a good sponsor, someone Adam could always call when and if he needed to talk to someone other than his dads. Hatter whose real name Adam never knew, had been a foster kid too, adopted as an older teen. Hatter understood the pressure Adam felt, the loneliness that came from a life spent apart. Between the three men loving Adam he was able to stay clean for over a year.

Belle was an only child to a widowed clockmaker. She was an honor student, on the fast track to the Ivy League. They met when Cogsworth signed Adam up for an English tutor. Cogsworth valued education and wanted Adam to improve so he could attend college and make something of himself. At first Adam and Belle wanted nothing to do with each other. He didn’t think he needed a tutor and not one as attractive as Belle was. His teenage brain envisioned her as the naughty librarian he had seen in dirty magazines. Acting on horrid advice from his friends, he was rude and demeaning. His efforts were rewarded with a slap and disgust. At home that evening, he sought out better advice. Cogsworth told the boy to write her an apology. Lumiere told him to bring her a rose. Hatter, the straight man in his life agreed that Adam had treated Belle poorly, asked him what he was going to do about it. Adam had to do better.

And better he did. He apologized, profusely. Belle wasn’t sure she could trust him. She knew who he hung around with. But they started spending time together. Little by little the real Adam shone through. Behind the tough as nails exterior he showed the world, he allowed Belle to see him. He could very kind to those in need. He organized toy drives for foster kids. Once at the store when the cloud let loose a deluge of water, he offered to pull her car up for an elderly woman so she wouldn’t get drenched to the bone.

He still had his temper. If his temper got the better of him, Belle wouldn’t stand for it. More times she left him where he was standing when he was losing it. He’d never hurt her but she wouldn’t take that chance. He scared her badly one night. They had been in his room and she had accidentally knocked over a framed photograph. The glass broke and damaged the photo. He roared with anger and before he realized what was happening he had tossed everything from his desk and slammed his fist into the wall. She ran from the room. In his angered haze, he heard her cries from the living room. He stopped thrashing and stepped into the hall. She was still there. Seated on the couch, his dads on either side of her. Cogsworth shook his head at his son.

Anger management with Hatter came next. He never wanted to see anyone he cared about be subject to his temper. He wrote Belle a letter, even mailed it. He never knew if she read it but she did forgive him.

The day of the accident started bad. His anniversary of sobriety was coming up. He would be two years clean. A milestone for any addict. It was little things piling up to big things. A memory of his parents, long gone from his life. A bad grade on a test he and Belle had studied so hard for. An argument between Adam and Cogsworth about grades and school. A misunderstanding between Lumiere. The anger simmered to a full boil. A temper flare from Adam had him storming out of the house. Deep in the back of his mind he knew what he had to do. He needed to call Hatter. Get his head on straight.

He could call Belle. But she was busy. She had an interview in the morning. An interview that could make or break her college plans. She didn’t need him distracting her. Maybe she would let him just sleep in her bed while she prepared. If he was with her, he could calm down and be able to go home and apologize. If he was with her he wouldn’t be able to do something stupid. Pausing over her contact, a text popped up.

Pre-game with boys. Don’t be a wuss.

He had been ducking texts like these for weeks. Gaston was from his old life. A life he didn’t want anymore. Gaston had been his best friend once upon a time. Before his dads. Before Hatter. Before Belle. Adam dropped Gaston soon after he began seeing Belle near constantly. Belle hated Gaston. She found his crass and chauvinistic behavior revolting. Rumor has it he had three kids with three different girls.

When he and Belle first started dating, he took her to a party that Gaston was throwing. He had taken over his parents cabin in the woods. Everyone from school was there, even people from other schools that had heard about the bash in the woods. Cars lined the dirt road leading up to the cabin. You could hear the party before you saw it. Belle, to put it plainly was not a party girl. Her idea of a Friday night was spent at the small bookstore on Main Street, browsing and putting books on layaway. Mrs. Potts, the owner kept a log of Belle’s books and would sometimes write off a few when she needed to. Belle was happiest when she and Adam had dinner together at the cafe next door to the bookstore and just took a walk in the park. But she agreed. Adam had been doing so well and she thought it was only fair that she share in his world when he spent so much time in hers.

Gaston saw them first. The feeling between Gaston and Belle was mutual. He blamed her for changing Adam from the guy he was to the guy he is. Behind her back he called her a bitch, a nag, killjoy. The tall, broad teenager with coal black hair strode up to them as they entered the house, a bottle of beer in his hand. He snapped his fingers at Kevin to get Adam a drink. He saw red when Belle took Adam’s hand and shook her head when the small portly boy offered them both bottles. He was going to take her down a peg or two.

It took some time but he finally got Adam and Belle separated. She had gotten tree sap on her hand when they had gone outside. She was expecting Adam to be waiting for her outside the bathroom when she came back out from washing her hands. But he wasn’t. He had gotten pulled into a conversation with Gaston’s latest blonde. She started towards him when Gaston got in her path.

“Never thought little miss perfect would grace us with her presence,” Gaston taunted. “Thought you were too good to hang out with the likes of us.” He leaned closer to her, pushing her back against the wall. “Not sure what my boy Adam sees in a frigid bitch like you.”

His breath reeked of stale beer, corn ships and tobacco. He ran his hand over her bare shoulder, she had lost her sweater somewhere. She tried to move out Gaston’s way but he caged her. “Gaston, please. Just leave us alone.”

“I want to know what kind of spell you got my boy under,” he said, his hand moving its way down her body, over her. Tears stung her eyes. Where was Adam? “Maybe if I get a taste, I might understand.”

“Stop it, please.”

Across the room Adam caught sight of his girlfriend. He pushed through the crowd of drinking people. Gaston had Belle pressed against the wall, his hands on her. Without thinking he charged at Gaston shoving him away from Belle.

“Get away from her!” Adam all but growled. He kept himself between Belle and Gaston, his fists balled. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“She came on to me man!” Gaston argued. “I told you. I warned you about her. She’s a bitch. You’re better off without her.”

“Adam let’s just go,” Belle said, putting her hand on his arm. “He’s not worth it. Let’s just go.”

“Shut up, you stupid —“ Gaston didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Adam swung his fist forward and knocked his former best friend square in his jaw.

“You will not speak to my girlfriend like that ever again,” Adam said. He took Belle’s hand and they left. Alone in her car he held her close as she cried. No one had ever touched her like that before. Not even Adam. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’d never come if I thought that’s what he’d do. Please, I’m so sorry.”

Staring at the text, it was a siren’s call. If he was honest with himself, he did miss his friend. Hanging with he boys would be the easy choice. It would be so easy to just fall into a stupor with the boys. He wouldn’t have to think about anything else. Not school, not his dads, not even Hatter. He knew what he needed to do. The siren call was stronger. He wanted to go. He wanted to fall into oblivion. He could fall for one night and when the dust settled he would start over. That was the life an addict. He knew what he needed to do and did what he wanted. He made the easy choice.

Where you at? Three words. That’s all it took to ruin his life. Three words.

The ravine. And don’t bring that bitch.

Don’t call her that.

Three hours later Adam had fallen off the wagon hard. He had drunk two bottles of Stoli, his hard liquor of choice and finished off a six pack of a cheap beer Stanley brought. Once he started Adam couldn’t stop. He couldn't have just one drink. He would keep going until he couldn’t see straight. When Adam polished off what they others had brought they went to get more. Driving a town over and with Stanley’s fake ID and Cogsworth’s credit card, the boys loaded up with more. Two more bottles of Stoli down and Adam was drunker than he had been in his life.

Neither Adam or Gaston had any business driving. The only sober one among the boys that night was Kevin also known as LeFou. Kevin was Gaston’s lackey. The small, overweight, nerdy boy just wanted to be popular. He did Gaston’s homework, really anything Gaston wanted. He was in the backseat with Adam that night. Gaston sped down the road, the radio screaming profanity laced rock. Reckless and stupid. Empty bottles rolled around the back of the car. They were invincible. On top of the world. Until they weren’t.

No one was sure as to the exact nature of the accident that left one dead, two severely injured and one with minor cuts and scrapes. Kevin, the sweet boy who just wanted to belong was dead. Stanley walked away. Gaston had severe brain damage and would likely require twenty-four/seven care for the rest of his life. Adam broke his right collarbone, the three bones in his right arm, the femur of his right leg and had broken glass embedded in his face. Scars he would bear for the rest of his life.

Belle, Hatter and his dads sat constant vigil by his side while he recovered from surgery. His handsome face distorted and scarred from the accident. Mixed emotions filled Belle. Anger, betrayal, hurt, sadness. How could he do this? Interview or not, he could have called her. Should have called her. In fact, he had called her. Several times. The first time she answered. She heard the shouts and loud music in the background. In his slurred speech he told her how much he loved her and how he was sorry. She begged him to tell her where he was. She would come get him and take him home. Get him to Hatter and his dads. Get him sober again. He wouldn’t listen. After the calls ended, texts came through. At first they were from Adam. Drunken decelerations of love. Disjointed thoughts of an unclear mind. Then they changed. They called her names, demeaned her. She turned her phone off. Adam had to be beyond reason if he let Gaston talk to her in such a way.

Adam and Stanley had to be the ones to face the music when it came down to blame for the accident. They each took a lesser sentence, community service, mandatory rehab, counseling and they were expelled. Adam became the worst version of himself. Guilt over took him. He withdrew into himself, became bitter, letting his anger consume him. If he did speak to anyone, there was no kindness in his words. Belle stood by him, did her best to help him through the darkness. Her breaking point came during her second year of college. He had done well over the holidays. He was getting better. So when the stick said Pregnant she was able to think to the future again. They had taken their lives day by day for the last two years. She could see a glimmer of hope in their darkness.

Fate, cruel as always, laughed. He had been working at the grocery store when she came in. Gaston’s mother. Seeing Adam whole set her grief anew. He stood there unmoving as she berated him, blamed him for everything that happened that night. Her son wouldn’t do the things they had said about him. Adam was a dirty orphan who drug her son down with him. Management lead her away from him but the damage had been done. In a stupor he walked out of the store grabbing a bottle of his poison on the way out. He missed her calls. Ignored them. Ignored everyone as he drank himself stupid again.

Belle was done. She could only watch him destroy himself for so long. And losing her child was the final straw.

“I won’t sit by and watch you drink yourself to death,” she said. “I can’t do it anymore.”

The last time she saw Adam, he had passed out on her dorm room floor. The last she heard he’d voluntarily checked himself into an in patient clinic. Belle kept in contact with Lumiere and Cogsworth. They came to her graduation when her own father was too ill to make the drive. They stood by her when she lost her father. The two men rarely mentioned Adam except in passing. He was out of rehab. Seemed to be doing well. He was working. Stocking shelves at a big box store. Somewhere he didn’t have to see customers.

Belle sighed away the memories and stood up from her chair and took out her favorite book. A leather bound copy of Sense and Sensibility. Opening it at random, dried flowers fell from the pages. Tucked between another page was a yellowing piece of notebook paper. A letter. A letter from Adam in the Before.

My Belle,

It feels so great to be able to call you mine. I know I’m not the easiest guy you could be with. I’m so grateful that you are. As promised, I’m doing better. Learning to take a breath to settle my anger before speaking. I need to explain what happened. The photo in my room, was my mother. The only thing I managed to keep throughout my childhood and moves. I am so sorry that I lost my temper. It wasn't acceptable behavior and I know that. I am going to forever be working on myself, to be who you need me to be.

I love you, Belle. Don’t give up on me.

Yours always,

Adam

She slid the letter back into the book. That Adam was long gone. He had a way with words. One minute he was a master poet, extolling words of love and devotion. But there was the other side of the coin. His words, when used in anger could tear a person down and leave them shattered. But that was then. She was a different person now.

You can trust me not to think And not to sleep around If you don't expect too much from me You might not be let down Cause all I really want is to be with you Feeling like I matter too If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago I might be here with you

His shift was ending. He didn’t have anywhere to be. His dads had taken a cruise, trusting they could leave Adam home alone for the first time in years. He didn’t have many friends that he could call to see if they wanted to grab a bite. In fact not counting Hatter, he didn’t have anyone he could call anymore. He took out his phone to check the time. It was just after eight. Jack in the Box would still be open. He could go there, eat a cheap burger and fries and go home. He smiled sadly looking at the picture that was a perfect moment in time. Belle. Lumiere had taken the photo. Together on the tire swing in the backyard. They had been so happy. Back when she was still his. Back before everything went to hell.

He still had her number in his phone. He never called it. He was sure she’d hang up on him before he ever got a word spoken. That was if she hadn’t blocked his number altogether. There was so much he wanted to tell her. To apologize for. He loved her. Loved her enough that he would be okay if she never came back to him. Not that the sting of jealousy didn’t bite him in the ass when he saw her with someone else.

He had seen her from afar so many times over the years. She still called his dads when something good happened to her. They would always tell him if she was coming over or if they had talked to her. Adam never asked Cogsworth or Lumiere to say he was thinking of her. That he still loved her with all the passion he still had. He wouldn’t do that to her. Not again.

He found himself walking in the rain. After the accident, he never drove again. He wasn’t sure where he was going until he found himself outside her house. She was sitting in front of the fire reading, like she always did. Taking a breath, he walked away from the window and to the front door. He pressed the doorbell and waited.

Belle never imagined who would be on the other side of her door.

“Adam?”

“Belle.” No matter how many years passed by, Adam saying her name was enough to send shockwaves through her whole body.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I know if I hadn’t messed up that night, I wouldn’t be standing out here in the rain,” he said, his blue eyes staring at her. “There are so many things that I’ve done that I’m not proud of. Hurting you, driving you away will always be on the top of my list.”

“You really hurt me, Adam. How can I ever trust you again?”

He fished something out of his pocket. A bronze colored coin. Belle had seen the collection of sobriety coins Hatter had. Hatter was eighteen years sober. So often they just wanted to get Adam to thirty days. Thirty days. Then to ninety days. To a hundred and eighty. To one year. The bronze coin in his hand had a 2 stamped in the center of it.

“Two years, yesterday Belle,” he said. “730 days. Dad and Pop came to the meeting. Hatter actually cried.”

Two years. Belle tried to imagine Hatter crying. The thought made her giggle. She caught his eye and in an instant it was like they were seventeen again. He pulled her to him, expression nervous but hopeful as he waited for her to make the next move. Maybe it was too much to hope he would take her back so soon. But she had to know. Had to know there would never be another for him. She was it. He would spend the rest of his life making up for the last five years of hell he put them through. He needed and wanted her with every fiber of being. She must have seen it, weighed the consequences in her own mind. Seconds passed and her lips crashed into his, igniting a passion she had long buried. He walked her backwards into the house, kicking the door closed behind them. Between their increasingly fervent kisses, he was apologizing.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Maurice died,” he said as she pulled his wet coat from him. “I’m sorry for passing out in your yard.”

“Adam, if you list everything you’re sorry for, you’ll be here until Christmas.”

Christmas sounded good to Adam. He could spend a Christmas with Belle. A birthday with Belle. God, was this really happening? Was she really there? He had to be sure.

“Am I really here?” he whispered into her hair, holding her close to him.

“Yes, you’re really here. I’m here.” Belle traced the marks on his face.

“You can count on me now, Belle. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Prove it.”

A low chuckle escaped his throat as he kissed her again. He drank her in, every sight, every scent mixing with memories. Lifting her into his arms holding her close. He pressed her against the wall, his lips finding all the places that brought her pleasure. The places only he knew. Her legs wrapped around him, as if they had never been apart.

Her senses came back to her first. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t let him back into her life. She knew the risks and her heart could only break so many times.

“Wait, Adam. Stop. Put me down,” she said. With her feet on the ground, her head was coming out of the clouds.

“Belle? Aren’t you happy I’m back?”

“Oh, Adam,” she sighed. “I have wanted nothing but for you to be sober and happy. But I can’t be the root of your happiness. I won’t survive it again.”

He nodded. He’d heard this before, from his fathers, from Hatter. He expected it from Belle. She had been hurt the most by his actions. Because she could walk away.

“I understand Belle. I do. It will take more than just words and promises. Because I’ve said and done things that I am not proud of. I’ve hurt you. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. I love you.”

He took out his phone, opening the notes app. Scrolling down he found a letter he had written to her during his final rehab stay. He began to read.

“My dearest Belle, there is nothing that I can say that will ever make up for my behavior. There is nothing I regret more. I lie here in my bed thinking about what — no not what — who we lost. Who they could have been if they’d had a better father. I will never forgive myself for walking away. Walking away from you, from what you meant — mean to me. I am so sorry that you were alone. I am sorry that my selfish wants overtook me when you needed me most. Nothing I can ever do will make up for that. In the worst moment of your — our lives, you were alone. And that is not right. It will never be right. And if you can ever forgive me, I will work forever to earn back your love and your trust. And even if you never can, knowing that I tried will be enough for me. I love you Belle. I love you enough to walk away if that’s what you want from me.”

He stopped reading and looked up at her. “What do you want Belle?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “You. Demons and all.”

#hey jealousy #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast fan fic #gin blossoms #inspired by music

20 notes · View notes

gustafsnightangel · 3 years

Text

Shattered Lives Ch 23 Pt 1

The work week was a blur. A normal blur of work, court, kids, hockey, indoor soccer as the weather turned frigid, with the occasional painter and furniture delivery thrown in for good measure. Gustaf stood at the door to Sildie’s office and grinned, it looked great. The boys were busy putting her books in the bookshelf and having a blast. He’d talked to Brendan on the sly and she had all her law books in storage downstairs so there was no need to buy them. While Sildie was plowing through work the kids were “out” with Gustaf. They’d spent the entire morning finding what he was after in their storage room downstairs.

“These were dad’s.” Brendan said quietly, running a finger along the spine. “I remember them from his office.” He watched the teen place the books on the shelf with a heartbreaking tenderness. “She’s going to love this Gustaf.” He said softly. “She’s gonna cry and be angry at you for spending money on her for her birthday but she’ll love it.”

“Yeah I’m preparing myself for the shitstorm.” He chuckled. He knew she’d be angry because she’d specifically said she didn’t celebrate her birthday, but this was important, for her and for the kids.

“Can we put a frame on that wall?” Finn asked. “One like Lily’s?”

“You think she’d like that?” Gustaf asked, the kid nodded.

“We could put goofy photos in it so she’s happy.” He said quietly and hugged Gustaf tightly.

“I think we could manage that.” He said and saw the other two smile at the idea.

“We could start with all the photos from that day in the snow.” Brendan suggested.

“I have some from the twins birthday and yours B.” Gustaf added as Liam put more books on the shelf. “I know Ama has more on her phone, ones from Lily’s birthday.”

“I’ll text them to you.” Brendan said slyly.

“Weren’t these grandads?” He asked Brendan.

“I think so, her dads, I think. I know she had them in America when she was over there.”

“Those would be special to her.” Gustaf said softly. Maybe this would be too much for her, he thought, too many memories shoved in her face all at once.

“They are, I know she’s used them, or use to use them. I think she had a couple next door that she kept out. There just wasn’t enough room to keep them all out.”

“So B can you do a photo slideshow on the sly?” He asked the teen.

“Cakewalk.” He grinned.

“So what else should we get for Ama in here?” He asked and helped Finn put some books on the top shelf.

“I think we leave it.” Brendan said honestly and shrugged. “I know she has some personal stuff in storage that she might want to put in here herself. And she’s gonna flip her shit enough when she sees this.” He grinned.

“Fair enough.” Gustaf chuckled. “Ok, is that all the books?”

“I think so.” Liam said and picked up some of the packing paper that had ended up on the floor.

“Alright then, let’s get back home before Ama suspects and remember, not a word.” They all grinned at him.

She was a little lost with an empty house on a Sunday. Even though she was reading and taking notes, the endless silence was strangely uncomfortable. She found by two, she was actually missing the kids, Gustaf, the comfort of family and the ruckus that went with it.

He’d be gone tomorrow night, back on Wednesday morning, she wasn’t looking forward to the empty bed, to companionship she’d become accustom to. She worried about him, he was still so fragile, his emotional state so brittle. She’d finished reading his notebook and felt slightly sick about giving it back to him, she didn’t want it to spiral him again.

The sound of the boys and the key in the door made her smile. The noise she’d missed earlier was back and filled the apartment. They looked happy, well who wouldn’t with ice cream, even Lily had some and it was all over her, and Gustaf which made her giggle.

“You’re supposed to eat the ice cream love not wear it.” She chuckled moving to him to take the bag from his hand.

“Lily had other plans.” He grinned and kissed her, that slow burn melting her heart. “Hi.” He said softly.

“Hi yourself.” She was still chuckling. “You two are a sight.”

“I’ll be right back, she needs a bath, and I need a clean shirt.” He laughed and kissed her again. “There’s some ice cream in there for you.” He added as he went to bathe Lily.

She pulled out the tub of chocolate mint chip and groaned, the man just knew. It was these little things that absolutely melted her heart, the man paid attention to everything. Grabbing a spoon she sat with the entire tub and continued to read.

“I don’t know how you can eat that.” He joked, grabbing her spoon and eating the mouthful she had scooped out.

“Hey, that’s mine.” She growled. “You’ve had yours.”

“No, Lily had mine.” He corrected and grabbed his own spoon after placing a now clean Lily on the floor to play with her toys. “And painted me with it.” He added as he sat.

“Who says I’m gonna share.” Her grin was playful as he as he went to scoop out a spoonful for himself and cocked an eyebrow at her as she moved the tub to the other side of her book.

“I have the wingspan love and you’ll lose coming between me and ice cream.” He played, she’d been in a better mood since they cleared the air a week ago. He was relieved they’d got past it, a chance now to heal and move on. She hadn’t spoken of him leaving her since and he wasn’t going to bring it up again even though he still felt like an ass for ever putting her through it.

“It’ll cost you.” She quipped facing him.

“Will it now?” His eyebrow shot up.

“Mmm hmmm.” She kissed him slowly, tongue teasing.

“How much ice cream does that get me?” He asked softly.

“This much.” She put a tiny piece on the end of her spoon and fed it to him.

He paused for a moment watching her. That slight grin, the mischief in her eyes. Cupping a hand behind her neck he drew her close and kissed her until her moan made his cock twitch. She was breathless and slightly dizzy when he pulled away.

“I’ll give you the entire tub for another one of those?” She murmured.

“Now that’s a bargain I can’t pass up.” He growled and kissed her again. Her whimper as he pulled away making him smile. She set the tub down so he could enjoy it too and debated whether to give him back his notebook now or hold off.

“I’m going to miss you.” He said, that low timbre soft and quiet.

“I’ll miss you too love. We’re only a call away though.” She said smiling at him.

“Can I come to your office tomorrow for lunch before I head to the airport?”

“You want to?” She was a little dumbstruck and he nodded. He showed more interest in her career than any man before him and it still floored her. “I’d like that.” She flipped her laptop around to check her calendar and nodded. “Lunch for me is at twelve, I have a meeting at one. Bring lunch to the office?”

“I can do that. I’d like to see where you work.” He kissed her quickly and spooned some more ice cream out of the tub. He wanted to get a feel for her office to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Maybe rock her world quickly before he had to board a plane.

“You ok?” She asked gently.

“I’m ok. Better than last trip.” He looked at her and saw the concern.

“Were only a call or text away ok?” Her hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into it, her touch settled him. “You’re enough.” She said gently.

“I’ll be ok, I feel better this time around and it’s only for Tuesday, and I have the weekend to look forward to.” He kissed her sweetly and dug out another spoonful of ice cream.

“I can’t wait for Friday.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, the same sweetness filling his heart. “Where are you taking me?”

“Away.” He grinned when she pouted playfully. It was tormenting her not knowing. “Pack light.” He growled. “You’re going to be naked most of the weekend.” His kiss held the taste of that promise mixed with smooth chocolate and a spike of mint.

Their evening with the kids was the routine grind and Brendan sat with the twins when Gustaf was reading to them. They’d become closer the past few days, like something had shifted. Gustaf didn’t know what, but it had shifted in their favor so he wasn’t going to question it.

He came out to Sildie sitting at the table reading with a very overtired and fussy Lily.

“She still up?” He asked gently.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Little miss cranky pants. I bet she just knows you’re going away.” Lily sobbed curled into Sildie’s shoulder not wanting anything to do with Gustaf. Each time he rubbed her back she pushed him away with a sobbed cry of no.

“I’ll be back Lily bear.” He soothed and went to make a fresh pot of tea. “You know it’s your birthday in a week or so.” He said carefully. He was tempting fate but he didn’t want to blindside her.

“I’m aware.” She said, her tone unmistakably said, drop it.

“Would you be ok for birthday pancakes?” He was walking a fine line because she’d made it well known at the very beginning she didn’t want anything to do with her birthday.

“Do I have a choice?” She said crisply. She didn’t want it, nothing at all to do with her fucking birthday but it was apparently going to happen regardless.

“Yes, you always have a choice, however before you put the kibosh on it I’d like to add the kids want to do something for you.” He sat the teapot down and pulled the chair over to sit close to her. He brushed his finger against hers and her hand stopped writing mid word with a flinch.

“Can I ask why you don’t want to celebrate it when I know from the boys you always did?” He asked gently, he had his suspicions but he wanted to hear it from her.

Her pen hand twitched like it did when she was stressed or thinking, this was probably a little of both, he thought.

“How can I celebrate when I can’t celebrate with Quinn?” She said, that steel edging her voice. “I know you have siblings Gustaf, but he was my twin, he was a part of me as much as I was of him. It’s like I’m missing a vital organ, a part of me and...” Her voice choked. “I just can’t. I’m still trying to get used to living life without him here, without feeling him here, sensing him here. It’s something you’ll never understand.” It was blunt and harsh, but she hoped it would get him to just fucking leave it alone.

His thumb brushed away the stray tear and he kissed her gently. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll do breakfast pancakes because the kids need it. They need to say their happy birthday to their father, they need to grieve, to heal. I’m not there yet, that wound is far to deep for me to handle.” She said trying to stay calm. She couldn’t have a fucking meltdown tonight over it. “Please.” She said softly. “Please don’t force me to deal with this yet, I’m not ready.”

“Ok.” He wouldn’t push but he also knew the books in her office were going to tear her apart. Maybe it was best to leave that for Christmas? It was only another two weeks after her birthday but if he added it in with the rest of his gift it might soften the blow? Fuck he thought, he just wanted to see her happy and yet he had a knack for making her miserable.

“You’ve arranged something haven’t you?” She asked and he saw the anger flicker in her eyes.

“The boys and I have arranged something yes, but I’m having second thoughts as it’s likely to upset you.” Which was the truth.

“I told you I didn’t want anything Gustaf.” She said exasperated, Lily letting out a quiet sob at her raised voice as she was almost asleep. Sometimes the guy just didn’t listen she thought.

“I know.” He said calmly.

“Well if you know then why...” She spat as he gripped her chin and kissed her hard letting all the love he knew she could feel pour out of him, those words were right there but they wouldn’t come out.

“Because the kids need it. That’s why.” His own irritation flaring, not only at the woman in his arms but that those three little words still didn’t want to come out. “I swear, sometimes you are infuriatingly stubborn.” He kissed her again and she softened, it took the wind right out of her sails. “I know how you feel about me spending money on you and the kids but damn it Sildie, let me fucking spoil you for the one day of the year that’s actually yours.” He breathed out. Damn she could get under his skin sometimes, hard headed, stubborn, and he fucking loved her.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured. “I just don’t know how to handle getting older without him.” Her voice was tiny, so lost, he thought. “It just rips me apart all over again.”

“Together, with me.” He kissed her, lingering, soothing. “I can’t bring him back love, fuck I wish I could do that for you, but I can’t.”

“He was always the bigger older brother, and he’s gone.” She sniffed.

“He protected you, took care of you?”

“Yeah.” She leaned forward to lean her head against his shoulder. He was her home now and she had to let him be that for her if this was going to work, but fuck it hurt like hell.

“I know it’s not the same but let me do that now.” He murmured kissing her hair. “Let me be the one to protect you, take care of you.”

“I don’t want to dump that on you too. I can’t be a fucking mess all over you all the time.” She muttered and huffed out a sigh. She was being needy and she fucking hated it.

“You’re not, I want to take care of you Sildie, but you have to let me.” He murmured.

“I’m trying.”

“I know you are love.” He kissed her temple as she sat back against her own chair. “How much more reading do you have for tonight?”

“I can be done.” She huffed out, not really in the zone anymore anyway.

“Go put Lily down, I’ll run you a bath, and then you can soak in the tub. You’ll feel better after a soak in the heat.” He kissed her and stood, taking the cups and teapot to the sink to rinse out.

He walked into the bedroom a little later to find Lily in the crib and Sildie sitting on the floor soothing her to sleep. By the time he had the tub filled and a fresh pot of tea made, Lily was out cold and Sildie was just sitting there lost in thought. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her.

“Go soak.” He murmured.

“Sometimes I think I’m taking advantage of you.” She blurted out.

“Why because I draw you a bath and make you tea?” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her longingly. “I do it Sildie because I want to, because I care.” And because I love you, it almost came out. Almost ain’t the words though is it chicken shit, he thought.

“I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m doing that ok? Tell me if I am.” She said softly. She knew these thoughts were from reading his notebook, but what he’d written in there, what Ana had put him through, had rocked her to the core.

“You’re not love and I’ll tell you if I ever feel like you are.” Highly doubtful he thought, and he knew where these dark thoughts were coming from. She must have nearly finished reading it. “Go soak, relax that wicked smart brain of yours.”

“Thank you.” She said, starting to strip.

“Anytime love.” He poured the tea for her and let her be. He wouldn’t be surprised to come back in and find her asleep.

He carefully tidied her work trying not to get things mixed up and stacked it in a neat pile next to her bag. He’d seen her clean up enough to know her routine and the way her organizational mind worked. He couldn’t help the grin, sure she’d be upset, maybe even a little irritated at him but Brendan was right, she’d love the office, her own space.

He sat and read through his schedule for the trip away and smiled. He just had to get through this and he’d be home until the shoot in February. Time, he thought, good quality time with Sildie and the kids and hopefully his family. Have her move in. He knew Christmas would be rough even with the heads up he was giving his family, he only had to get a hold of Sam and Alex, but it would be brutal on her.

The rest of them were understanding and just happy she was coming. They would welcome her with open arms and support her and the kids as they healed. Bill had already offered to take the four of them for sleep overs so she could have a break.

He came in to see her zoned out and relaxed, head resting on the edge of the tub, those long long legs poking out of the bubbles. He knelt down leaning against the tub and kissed her, lips he craved, soft and sweet. Those eyes of glacial blue fluttered open to look into his, damn he was so in love with her.

“You look all warm and soft.” He murmured.

“Iyam.” She slurred.

“Do you need help getting out?” He chuckled as she tried to sit up and flopped back against the edge.

“Oh gravity sucks.” She huffed as she struggled to sit. “I don’t think I have any bones left.” She giggled as his arms came around her to help her stand. “They’ve all melted.”

“Just stand a second love.” He grinned. “Get those fabulous pins under you.” It was just what he was hoping for. She wrapped her arms around him and held on, breathing in the scent of him which would be gone tomorrow night and Tuesday.

He helped her step out and wrapped a towel around her. Her mouth finding his, that slow, seductive burn that he drowned in.

“Sildie.” He breathed as her hands drifted under his shirt. He bent down quickly to pull the plug on the bath, and when he straightened he bundled her into his arms and devoured her mouth.

He walked her back toward the bed, quietly shut the bathroom door, and let her towel drop to the floor. Her hands busied with the zipper while his hands tenderly cupped her breast, he’d take her slowly tonight, savor her.

Her head was swimming from the heat of the bath, his clever mouth, and those hands. Those hands that aroused her like no other, touched her like no other. She pushed the dark blue denim from his hips as he sat her on the edge of the bed while he stepped out of them, her lips never leaving his.

She released his mouth and he stood to his full height. There was something so erotic about the way he gazed down at her. She kissed his chest as his hands disappeared into her hair. The light tug as her hand drifted to stroke him, the groan as she kissed her way down until she was on her knees.

She savored those powerful thighs as her hands wandered, fingers gripping his ass as her mouth kissed everywhere except his erection. She could hear his unsteady breathing, his hands gripping tighter in her hair. She grinned as she licked his manhood from root to tip before swirling her tongue and taking him in her mouth, the growl guttural.

He looked down at his goddess as he slowly rocked his hips, hands still fisted in her hair gently. He loved the feeling of her mouth around him, that talented tongue destroying him. He kept his movements slow, determined to savor the feel of her.

She felt him tense, the struggle to stay in control. His hands pulled her head back enough for those seductive eyes to find his, his body remaining still. She released his cock seeing the unspoken request in his gaze and kissed her way up his body as his hands urged her to stand.

“I want to be in you when I come.” He kissed her, slow and erotic. “I want to feel you come around me.” He stepped toward the bed and she sat when her calves met the mattress. He leaned over her, his towering presence making her feel so safe as she lay back. “My turn.” He growled and ghosted her lips before kissing her with such longing.

He kissed his way down her torso, stopping at her breasts and gently sucking her nipples, that clever tongue flicking. Kneeling between her legs his huge hands flexed out over her thighs to bring them up and open before resting them on his shoulders. He feasted slowly, drawing her release closer and closer to the edge.

“Gustaf.” She sighed when his tongue swirled at her entrance before dipping in and licking her all the way up to her clit. He took his time making her wetter for him before her orgasm crested, her hand diving down to caress his head. He slipped two long digits inside her and watched her come, his gorgeous woman writhing in pleasure. He slowed and kissed his way up her body to devour her mouth, her own ravenous for him.

“Hold onto me.” He murmured and carried them both up the bed, he wanted her comfortable, slow, erotic.

Her hands wandered, drawing lazy patterns against his already aroused skin, the shiver not lost on her. That clever mouth found hers and kissed her so her mind blanked. She whimpered as his cock brushed her thigh, moaned as he took it in his hand and rubbed the tip against her clit and down along her wet folds.

“Roll onto your side.” His voice was husky with need as she did as he’d asked. He knew this was a new favorite and tonight he wanted her comfortable and slowly. He came to his knees and straddled her lower leg, bringing the top one up to bend against her side, her knee almost under her armpit. He lowered himself to kiss her, envelop her with his massive frame, breathe her in as he made love to her.

He kissed her, tongue teasing hers as his tip slipped inside her. The gasp into his mouth was more a purr. He slowly tip fucked her, drawing that purr out of her as he began to bring her undone.

“You like that.” He murmured, kissing her tenderly.

“I like you.” She moaned as he stretched her.

His mouth stayed on hers as her hands cupped his face keeping him close. She was already lost to him, relaxed, aroused, and so ready for him to take.

“Look at me.” He whispered, those stunning eyes finding his as he inched inside her.

“Gustaf.” She choked as he filled her, his girth stretching her beyond what she thought possible. His mouth claimed hers as he started to thrust. The slow destruction of her entire being.

He thrust slow and deep making sure she felt every ridge, every inch of him. Her breath mixed with his as her climax built, the sensations sparking an inferno within her. Her kiss was desperate as she crested, her soft cry as he held her on the edge for a moment before watching her fall.

“Gustaf.” She choked as he kept the pace brutally steady.

“Let go. Let me watch you come again.” He murmured as her body tensed as she peaked again. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as he swallowed her cry, her pussy gripping him tightly. “You’re so beautiful love.”

“Harder. Please.” Her whimper made his cock twitch.

“Not tonight.” He growled. “I want you slow, to feel every gorgeous inch of you against me.”

They took each other, bodies entwined, moving together in an erotic pace bringing them both to the edge.

“Sildie.” He choked as his own release peaked.

“Give yourself to me.” She breathed, her own climax making her tremble.

His long deep strokes into her set her body alight. The feel of him against her, inside her, such pleasure. He watched her teeter on the edge, denying herself the plunge into euphoria until he was there with her. With swift fingers he tormented her clit, slow circles the gentle push she needed.

Her soft cry of his name so full of love, of pleasure made him fall with her. With a barely there groan he followed her into bliss. He rode them down from the high, the gentle thrusts until they were spent. Curling her leg around him he lay there with her in his arms.

“I’ll miss you.” He said softly. “I know it’s just for a day or so but I’ll miss you, miss this.”

She smiled as she snuggled into him. “Same goes love. We’re only a call away. I’ll set the laptop up tomorrow and you can call whenever, if that’s what you need.” She looked up at him and his gaze melted her. So much love there, she thought.

“I’d like that.” He kissed her with that sweet tenderness that always floored her. “You though, need sleep.” He said gently.

“Always taking care of me.” Her smile was one of mild annoyance.

“If I don’t you’ll work until you’ve run yourself into the ground.” He trailed a finger down her jaw and hooked it under her chin firmly. “I don’t like seeing you like that, those dark smudges under your eyes, the stress.” He kissed her. “Promise me you won’t do that while I’m away.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That not what I asked you.” He chuckled.

“I know.” He could feel her grin against his bare chest. “I don’t sleep well when you’re not here.” She said quietly.

He bundled her in closer, kissing her deeply. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for having a career and doing what you love.” She said softly. “I like sleeping with you, having you next to me every night, but I also like seeing you happy because you’re doing what you love.” She’d miss him but there’s no way in hell she’d guilt trip him. “I’d be very angry if you gave any of that up for me or because of me. That’s not what I want.”

“I know.” His smile set those crows feet crinkling and she couldn’t resist the urge to rub her thumb along them.

“We’re making it work, I’ll just miss you.” She shrugged.

“Thank you.” He sighed and kissed her sweetly. “Thank you for being the incredible person you are.”

“I just want you love. You’re more than enough for me.” Her hand stroked down his jaw playing with his scruff before she kissed him so his mind settled.

“Sleep now.” He kissed her quickly. “Asses to kick tomorrow.”

“Not too many.” She yawned and giggled.

“As long as it’s not mine.” He quipped under his breath and he snuggled her close as she huffed a chuckle.

Sleep took her under quickly. He was content to stroke his fingers along her body as if committing every dip and curve to memory. He wasn’t as anxious at leaving them this time, it seemed like another normal day at the office, life had let them settle somewhat.

His thoughts drifted to her office and the potential grief it would bring. He expected it, he just wondered if it would send her further down into a grief spiral like the anniversary. But the fact was it would hurt the kids regardless of whether they celebrated her birthday or not because it was their fathers birthday as well. They had jumped at the opportunity to do something really thoughtful for her when he told them about the office. Fuck me, he thought, this was gonna suck, damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

**************************

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites

#gustaf skarsgard #gustaf skarsgard fanfiction #shattered lives

3 notes · View notes

justsomewritingsandshit · 4 years

Text

The Struggles of a Male Veela (Part 5 - Selene’s Got A Date)

Louis Weasley x Soulmate!OC

Length: 3190 words

Warnings: soulmate!au, altered ages of next gen, female OC, Hunter Parrish as Louis, fxf date, mentions of sAd bOI hOuRs

Part 5 of this series | Masterlist | Part 4 | Part 6

Selene has never been fussy when it comes to dating – for her, (so long as the person expressed an interest, didn’t seem oddly clingy, or overly possessive) anyone was game. So, when the attractive Mari Singh (of Ravenclaw house) asked her out… well, she said yes.

Mari and Selene had been ‘classroom friends’ for years, so she had supposed it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. Their rapport was friendly enough, and Mari was an attractive girl, so there was no real reason to say no.

Plus, Selene happened to know that she was the first girl that Mari had asked out since her coming out over the summer. Selene felt that she had a sort of duty to treat Mari to a wonderful time, setting a good example of what Mari should look for in a partner, should she choose to date again. Too many people let themselves be in bad circumstances, simply because it’s all they knew, and Selene wouldn’t let Mari’s kind soul be one of those. Selene wished she’d had a person do the same for her, when she was younger. It would have saved her a lot of broken hearts.

In the end, the two girls arranged it for their date to be the first Hogsmeade trip, which was on the last day of the month. The two of them were going to end up spending their entire time there making awkward but friendly conversation, and drinking butterbeers – there was never much to do in Hogsmeade, after all.

If anyone was asked to go off and experience Hogsmeade, they’d come back and say that it felt as if the village had been unchanged for hundreds of years. Contradicting that analysis was the known fact that many of the buildings were only two decades old, as some of them had to be repaired after the war. And, the war memorials and plaques in the middle of the village were only a few years old themselves.

Despite the newer builds, the town was one of the oldest magic-only communities in the United Kingdom – there were much older communities in remote areas of South America, Asia, and in concealed tribes all throughout Africa, though. There wasn’t much to the small town, just a joke shop, a sweet store, a few small trinket shops, a pub or two – basically; nothing much for the teens whose only chance at an off-campus activity was a monthly trip there.

So, yeah, dating at Hogwarts was kind of the worst.

Louis didn’t find out about the date, until what he would consider the last minute.

On the eve of Halloween (a Friday that was surprisingly mild for the season), Selene and Louis found themselves once again at their usual haunt – a large, wooden table located in the back of the ginormous hall that was the library.

Said teens were staring intensely at the parchments clasped in their respective hands. Louis’s happened to be a letter from his mother, a long winded one that was reminding him to try and ‘stretch’ in his veela form weekly – the fact that she went on to describe how it may feel similar to a female’s period was why he was contemplating an attempt at trying to burn it with his gaze. Selene’s parchment held the notes that she’d taken down in Charms earlier that day – at that moment, they weren’t making any sense to her.

“Louis? This new Charms stuff, I don’t get it. Help me out over here?” Selene’s interruption was received warmly by Louis, as Fleur Weasley (nee Delacour) had, in her lengthy letter, began to describe the severity of her monthly flow to her teenaged son.

“Go ahead.” Louis eagerly ditched his parchment to the side, one-hundred-percent ready to never read it, ever again. “Was it the wandless stuff we started this week? On Tuesday?”

Selene sent him a confirming nod, going into her dilemma, “If I’m casting a charm like ‘protego totalum’, how am I supposed to control what I’m casting it on? It’s, uh, pretty important that it’s cast on the right thing.”

Louis was momentarily distracted by the way her brows furrowed together in obvious confusion, sending his mind spiralling. By the time he managed to force his stupid veela brain to focus, he realised that he had succeeded in the task of being weirdly silent for close to a minute. If there was a wizard-god, then Louis prayed to them that Selene would just think he was seriously contemplating her question and coming to a slow conclusion. “I guess it could be one of those charms that are always going to require a wand. Or, you can just think super hard while casting.” Louis let out a breathy chuckle.

Entertaining this thought, Selene muttered, “I don’t know what wizard-kind did before they realised they could use a wand.”, as she flipped over her parchment.

It hadn’t been a real question, but none the less it had amused Louis to think up an answer to it. He chuckled, crossing his arms on the table to rest on, “I can just imagine it was a bunch of people awkwardly performing ‘accidental magic’, like when we were kids.”

His words caused Selene to laugh too, as she pictured people in old-timey clothes waving their arms accidentally and setting something on fire. “The first person to use a wand must have been like; ‘what?’!” Selene’s face got slightly warmer, as her breathing was interrupted by her chortles, “They were like ‘Bartholomew,” Louis had to cover his mouth in order to hide the snort of laughter he produced at Selene’s excellent impression of the ‘Bloody Baron’. His uncle’s impression was nothing on hers. “Thou hast pick-ethed up a stick, which doth work well-eth’ at mastering thoust powers’.”

Both of them had stomach cramps, trying to contain their laughter. Louis had tears building up in his eyes, and his face was turning red. Selene had doubled over, laughing mostly silently, the only sound being her inhaled breath and the slapping of her had against her knee. Their ‘quiet’ laughter was eventually drowned out by the librarian’s shrill cry of, “Get out of my library if you’re not going to follow the rules!”

Hurriedly, the two of them pack up all their belongings, erupting into occasional giggles every time the two caught each other’s eyes. They burst from the library’s entrance, and the Gryffindor and Slytherin stumbled along the large corridor. By the time they’d reached the end of the long hallway, they both decided it was best for them to start making their way to their respective common rooms.

There was calm silence for ten minutes.

Eventually it was broken. “So…” Louis’s shoulders were hunched over a little, his hands looking as if he’d shoved them as deep as he could, into the pockets of his school trousers. Making himself look smaller was his main way of coming off across nonchalant. However, the only thing he looked, was uncomfortable. “The, uh, first Hogsmeade trip is tomorrow. Are, um…” He paused to inhale some confidence, “Are you going to go?” Louis wanted so bad to shout out, to ask (or even beg) her to go with him on this trip. The sixth-year could imagine it now; the two of them wander the lanes of Hogsmeade together, their noses getting redder the longer that they’re out in the cold… their breath visible and intermingling, as they get closer and closer… maybe, a kiss? Oh, Louis wanted nothing more than that.

“Yeah, I-” Selene argued with herself. She shouldn’t have felt uncomfortable (awkward?) telling Louis about her upcoming date… and yet, she did. Which was absurd, because they were friends! “Uh… Actually, I have a date.” Merlin, Selene’s stomach squirmed. She felt awful admitting this to Louis, even though there was no need to, at all. Her nerves made her ramble, “With Mari Singh, from Ravenclaw. I think she’s in your Transfiguration class?” Selene went on, her mouth moving a mile a minute, but Louis heard none of it.

The blonde boy felt like he’d been physically hurt, despite knowing he certainly had absolutely no true right to feel as pained as he did. Selene Morgenstern was his soulmate, sure, but she didn’t know that. He hadn’t informed her that destiny (and, he guesses; his veela instincts) had fated them to be together. Plus, he was pretty sure that he hadn’t let on about his romantic feelings towards her either.

The Slytherin was her own person, and as such; allowed to date whomever she wanted…

But Louis was allowed to be upset about it. Even if it was irrational to be so. Boys (well, really, he’d insist that he was closer to a man, now) could be emotional too! However, he wasn’t going to expose said hurt feelings to Selene. He was upset by her words, but they were just friends… just friends, even if he did have different sentiments towards her.

Everything Louis Weasley had been taught by his family as a child was blooming into fruition in this moment; good friends support their friends – no matter the personal consequences.

As if the gods above had granted him lee-way, Louis’s turning to go up to the Gryffindor Common Room was fast approaching. “Well, uh, you have a great time! I’ll see you later!” Hastily exiting the situation seemed to be the only way to end this conversation, plus Louis was finding that his eyes were quickly filling with tears, and he didn’t want Selene to see them.

“Uh, thanks, Louis! See you!” Frantically waving at the back of the already turned-away boy was not the way a cool and collected Slytherin behaved. For love of Merlin, why was she acting like this? In true Slytherin sentiment, Selene ignored the way her stomach clenched up the moment Louis was out of sight. “Ugh, I need to get more sleep.”

Louis spent that night clutching his pillows tightly to his trembling body, desperately trying to not burst into his veela form. It was exhaustingly difficult to hold on to his human form, as his veela’s desire to fly away from all the pain he was facing was almost too powerful. The teen was virtually bursting at the seams, due to the effort it took to hold back this side of him.

His heart felt like it was under an intense pressure, as if it was being compressed. And his skin was positively feverish! Every pore along his body was asking for relief. Every muscle fibre itching for some form of freedom that only his veela form could give to him.

And to think, Louis had bitterly mused to himself, all this because I’m jealous. Louis knew, deep down, that he had no true reason to be jealous, or hurt, or sad, or angry. Selene was not his. Not his girlfriend, nor anything more than his close friend! The girl was her own woman. One who can decide for herself who she wants to love, and whom she wants to date.

Still… His acknowledgement of this fact did not miraculously send him into recovery.

Louis remained lonesome and feverish through the night.

There was a problem with Selene’s date.

Or, rather; there was a problem with Mari Singh – well, not really.

Okay, so the issue was with Selene. She was positively sure that there were a dozen other places she’d rather be, than on this date with Mari. The Slytherin clearly did not feel one iota of a romantic stirring towards the bird.

Now, that’s not to say the other girl was not lovely! Mari was smart, pretty, and rather funny - an all-around kind person.

Still, Selene found herself wishing that she was not the one opposite the Ravenclaw in the Three Broomsticks. And, that wasn’t to say it was an awful date! Not at all. It was a… nice affair. They talked over a butterbeer, and giggled at each other’s stories... And, yes; the conversation had been (sometimes) intelligent and (somewhat?) interesting.

Selene just felt like something was missing from it all, though.

“I was like; ‘why does this always happen to him?’!” Mari let out a chortle at her own story. It was a rather long-winded, yet deeply hilarious, anecdote of her families’ latest vacation. Her father apparently fell off a dinghy that the whole family had been sitting in, right into the arms of what may have been a hairy man (or, perhaps, a large bear), whilst not even in the water yet. “Anyway…”

The two female students had slowly been making their way back to the castle. And, now they were standing at the crossroads of where they’d each have to turn away to go to their separate common rooms.

Before Mari could even say anything else, Selene had to be honest with her, “Mari, I had a nice time today, but, uh, I have to be frank with you… I like you as a friend, Mari, but I-” Selene paused, to place her hand on the Ravenclaw’s shoulder and to carefully choose her following words. “I, um, I don’t feel for you, romantically that is.” Mari’s face began to crumble, “I’m sorry, but I had to be honest with you. It would be cruel for me to get your hopes up like that. You’re my friend but sparing your feelings now would only hurt you later. Right?”

Mari mulled the words over, but finally nodded her head softly.

Selene removed her palm from the other girls’ shoulder. She felt obliged to offer up some information that might soften the blow she’d just been dealt, “Plus, it wouldn’t be fair to Naomi…”

Mari’s head tilted to her left, “Gnomes?” It was a cute nickname Mari had for her roommate, fellow Ravenclaw Naomi Gardener. “W-Why would it be unfair to her?”

Selene heard the thinly veiled excitement in her voice. It was well-known within the female population of their respective year-group, that Naomi Gardner fancied Mari Singh. It was true that pretty much everyone knew that, but only Selene heard said information first-hand from Naomi. “Well, Naomi may have mentioned something to me… But it’s probably best to ask her about it.” She leant forward, pressing a friendly peck to Mari’s cheek, “Thank you for a lovely time, Mar.” Sending a wink to the girl, Selene began to walk away. “I hope we’re still friends, Mari! Good luck!”

Louis didn’t expect to see Selene the next morning.

Not because he assumed that something… like that... would happen between the two girls. No, not at all! Rather, Louis was surprised to see Selene, since he had decided to try to avoid her altogether.

Also, the idea of seeing her in the boys’ bathroom was incredibly surprising.

“Um, hello?”

Carefully, Louis angled his entire body away from the approaching teenaged girl. As quick as he could he tucked himself away and buttoned up his trousers. Due to his complexion, the flush on his cheeks was all too visible. Even knowing she could see the blush; he tried his best to act casual as he walked over to wash his hands. Selene was in his peripherals the entire time.

“So,” Louis shook his hands out, getting them dry enough to wipe against the fabric against his thighs – he didn’t even think about using his magic or wand to dry them. “Uh, what brings you to the men’s bathroom?” Before he could embarrass himself, he tucked his hands into the back pockets of his trousers. It was an attempt to seem casual.

Selene let a faux look of sadness creep onto her face, “Well, when I saw you practically running down the hallway when you saw me coming, I figured I should check on you.” She rested her shoulder on the wall to her right, “After all, I am a good friend.”

Louis’s was sure that his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Even though he knew that she was being a nice person, a great friend, his veela hindbrain was absolutely screaming at him. Surely that meant she was accepting the bond! Checking on her mate, right? Merlin! Louis had to snap himself out of those thoughts, because they weren’t facts. He knew first-hand that not thinking truthfully only damaged your own feelings.

“I- I just,” Louis was tongue-tied now. How exactly could he explain that he didn’t want to hear about her amazing date with bloody Mari Singh? “Well-”

Selene cut him off, not wanting to hear any of his poor attempts at lying to her, “I wanted to vent to you, about my date last night.” She rushed out first, before pausing. The Slytherin was gathering herself, choosing her next words carefully. “It was alright.”

The male noticed the lack of enthusiasm in her description of the event. His stomach lurched in awkward excitement.

She let out a quiet laugh, “You know… I was going to talk to Emmaline about it all, but-” Her head lolled to the side as she thought hard, “But I don’t know, I just-” Eventually, Selene pushed off the wall she was leaning on and strolled closer to the him. “I guess I just really wanted to talk to you.”

Louis was sure that he wasn’t breathing. “Oh.” In fact, he was pretty sure that he hadn’t been breathing for Selene’s entire speech. “Okay. Yeah... Alright.” Taking his hand from his pocket, he gestured over towards the exit of the bathroom, “Shall we, then?” Yes, that was normal. If only his heartbeat could chill out, too.

Luckily for them, there was only one first year in the otherwise empty hallway. Said single first year awkwardly still stood, deer-in-headlights-style, as they witnessed the two elder teens exit the boy’s’ bathroom together.

“So,” Louis was trying his best to seem calm, “It didn’t go well?” He paused, before clarifying, “Your date, I mean.”

The two of them were back in the school’s library. It was during a shared free period of theirs, and like always Selene and Louis were nestled together at their table. Heads were pushed closer to one another than strictly needed, both attempting to talk as quietly – they were in fear of the librarian, who had already given them both the most scathing look when they’d walked in talking.

“No, it was fine.” Selene answered him, her lips twisting into a grimace as she thought over the date, “Nothing awful, it just - it didn’t feel right.” She played with the quill in her hand, “I guess when I’m on a date, I want it to feel nicer than a ‘fine’ or ‘alright’.”

Louis nodded, understanding what she meant. “True.” There was silence as the blond wrote down a sentence or two on his parchment. He could feel the tingle of Selene’s eyes watching him do so. “So,” He began again, “No second date, then?”

Selene averted her eyes from his form, pretending that she didn’t catch him observing her from the very corner of his eye. “Not with Mari, no.” She looked down to her work, and unbeknownst to her Louis did as well.

Both had smiles on their faces.

TAGGED:

@iamwarrenspeace, @itsnolongerteen, @stilesloverdaily, @immortalmurphy, @fandomsandotherstuff, @mcheung0314, @aw-hawkeye, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @thenodmonster, @realgreglestrade, @seninjakitey, @theshortegg, @gqlqxies, @footballiskillingme

#louis weasley #louis weasley imagine #LouisWeasley #louisweasleyimagine #louis weasley x oc #not reader insert #hp imagine #next generation #next generation harry potter #next gen harry potter #nextgen!#harry potter imagine #hunterparrish #Hunter Parrish #the struggles of a male veela series #the struggles of a male veela #series #harry potter series #harry potter

32 notes · View notes

justanoutlawfic · 5 years

Text

Saturdays at Granny’s: An Outlaw Queen Ficlet

Summary: Robin cherishes the time he has with his son on the weekends. One particular one, they meet another single parent and her own child.

For Day 1 (Monday) of Inspired by OQ, an edit by @stargazingM31!

Robin never thought he’d have to look forward to spending time with his son. Just two years prior, he took for granted getting to see Roland every single day. Then, Marian had come out of the closet and their marriage had ended. It wasn’t as if Robin had been very surprised, they had been struggling for awhile and he knew something was wrong, just not what it was. They had split up amicably and were still friends. However, it didn’t change that they weren’t living under one roof anymore.

He got Roland every Friday afternoon to Sunday evening, and those times were precious. Robin picked his son up from school and brought him back to his place (“The Divorced Guy Apartments” as Will so charmingly called them). They’d play and watch movies together, go to the park if the weather was nice enough.

Saturday mornings was their very special tradition: breakfast at Granny’s. Roland typically woke him up by jumping on his bed and they’d walk the block to the diner. They’d always get the same thing: Roland, chocolate chip pancakes, bacon and orange juice Robin, waffles, sausage and coffee. They huddled in their usual booth, Granny (she refused to be called Eugena) and Ruby fussing over them, the latter always adding a bit too much chocolate to Roland’s pancakes. It was a time-honored tradition that neither Locksley man would trade for the world. Rarely, anything ever changed during.

That was until that late-August morning.

Robin and Roland entered the diner at 8:30 AM like clockwork. Granny greeted them both with a big hug, before leading them over to their usual booth.

“Let me guess…chocolate chip pancakes with bacon, along with a big glass of OJ for Mr. Roland?”

Roland grinned from ear to ear. “Yes!”

“And waffles with sausage and coffee-a bit of cream and sugar, for Robin.”

Robin shook his head with a smile of his own. “I don’t get how you do it, Granny. You remember everyone’s orders.”

“I have to take care of my favorites.” She ruffled Roland’s hair. “I’ll be back with your drinks in a minute.”

Granny walked off and Roland started on the maze that was on the children’s menu. Things were never quiet in the diner; they were used to the hustle and bustle. However, a few minutes after they arrived, there was a bit of fussing coming from the next booth over. Roland got up on his knees and turned around.

“Ooo, a baby!” He exclaimed in awe.

“Roland,” Robin gently chastised. “Sit on your bottom.”

“But Daddy, look, there is a baby.”

Before Robin could be a bit firmer with him, he heard a sweet giggle. That got his attention more than the baby’s cry had. He craned his neck to find a woman sitting there, with chin length raven black hair. She had wide brown eyes and a face that he had only seen on new parents, that mix of tiredness with a glow. Next to her was an infant car seat with onesie covered feet sticking out. The woman had one hand on the baby’s foot, another on her coffee cup. Surrounding her breakfast was a baby bottle and stuffed puppy.

“He’s fine,” the woman said, to Robin, before turning to Roland. “You’re right. There is a baby. This is my son, Henry.”

“I’m Roland,” Robin’s son introduced himself. At five-years-old, he was anything but shy. “That’s my daddy.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you Roland and Roland’s daddy,” she replied with a sly smile. “I’m Regina.”

Robin blinked a couple of times, doing his best not to stare at this beautiful woman. “Robin,” he elaborated. “Robin Locksley.”

“Ah, very nice.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. We come in here every week.”

“I’ve been a bit busy with Henry here,” Regina explained. “Getting ready for him and all.”

“My mommy and her Mulan are having a baby too,” Roland piped up. “It’s made Mommy bigger.”

Regina let out another giggle. “Well, I didn’t carry Henry in my tummy. I adopted him; do you know what that means?”

Roland tilted his head. “My friend August was adopted. He said his parents got to bring him home from somewhere else.”

“That’s right. Someone else gave birth to Henry, but she let me be his mommy. So, I had to do a lot of things to show that I could do that.”

Roland and Regina continued to chat about Henry, with Robin watching the pair in awe. She was quite the natural with him, listening intently when he talked and answering any questions that he might have. Robin knew he should probably pull his son down and tell him to stop bothering the nice woman, but Regina didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, when Granny finally brought by their food, she looked a little disappointed, so Robin invited her to come sit with them. He moved to sit next to his son so Regina could sit across with Henry. She removed the squishy baby from the car seat, cuddling him close.

“I give you credit for bringing him out so young, especially on your own,” Robin said. “I remember being terrified to bring this one out when he was a baby.”

Regina smiled. “I just couldn’t stand being cooped up in the house anymore. It can get pretty lonely.”

“Is it just the two of you?”

She nodded. “Yup, doing it on my own.”

“Wow.”

“Please don’t tell me that’s impressive. It’s really not.”

“I mean, I’m just thankful I have Marian to co-parent with.”

Regina shrugged. “I had a few close calls with love, but they never panned out. I didn’t want to wait longer for motherhood.” She looked down at Henry. “Then this little guy’s birth mom came to me and it seemed like fate.”

Robin’s lips tugged up in a smile. “Well, you seem like a natural.”

Blush spread across Regina’s cheeks, causing her to duck her head. She quickly changed the subject, asking Roland what he learned about in school. Robin chimed in on the conversation every so often, his eyes drifting down to Henry the other bits. They stayed long after their food was done and Granny didn’t harass them about their checks. It wasn’t until Henry started getting fussy again, that Regina started to attempt gathering all her stuff.

“I think it’s this little prince’s naptime,” she said.

“He takes naps this early?” Roland asked.

“Babies take lots of naps.”

Roland looked as if that bit of news shocked him tremendously. Robin helped Regina gather everything up into the diaper bag and get Henry settled into his car seat. They paid their bills and then headed out to her car, a black 1980s Mercedes. Once Henry was strapped in and Roland was distracted with a call from his mom on his dad’s phone, Regina turned to Robin, sticking her hands into her jacket pockets.

“So, Granny um convinced me I need to get out of the house more,” she said.

Robin chuckled. “She can be a bit pushy.”

“I don’t know your schedule with Roland and your ex but…”

It dawned on him what she was attempting to do. “My weekdays are free,” he said. “Weekends are for Roland.”

“I can make that work.”

He smiled. “Great.”

She fumbled to take her cellphone out, allowing him to put his number inside of it. With a wave and a quick hug to Roland, Regina was off. Robin stood on the sidewalk, the stupid grin not leaving his face.

Maybe Saturday mornings weren’t so typical after all.

#inspiredbyoq #outlaw queen #oq #robin hood #regina mills #ouat #once upon a time

13 notes · View notes

keyboard-smashed · 5 years

Text

The Storm That's Brewing

Summary: first glance of restaurant

Warnings: food/eating mention

(first, previous & next chapters linked at bottom)

----------

Chapter 5- The Mind Palace

The car journey wasn’t great. Patton called shotgun, so he sat up front with Roman (who, for the record, was a terrible driver). The pair ended up singing the whole journey. Logan inquired about whether it was best for Roman to be wearing out his voice before a performance, but Sir Sing-A-Lot argued that he was warming up. Though, Virgil knew that there were better ways to warm up your voice than failing at rapping Nicki's part in Bang Bang.

That left the two less enthusiastic singers in the back trying, failing and eventually giving up on holding a regular conversation. Luckily, the car journey was pretty short- lasting only four songs (two of which Virgil, the emo he was, didn't even recognise).

From outside, the restaurant didn’t look like anything special. The white paint on the bricks was peeling and the whole place looked quite small. The door was painted dark blue, with several darker panels painted in, and white squares at the top that reminded Virgil of the TARDIS. When he walked inside the restaurant, he found out why. The place was a lot bigger, and a lot cooler, than its outside suggested.

The entire restaurant was a mix and match of seats and sofas from various film and television shows' sets all centred towards a small stage in the middle of the back wall, between two closed off rooms Virgil assumed to be the kitchen and perhaps a storage or changing room.

Immediately next to the entrance was the iconic couch and table set from Friends. There sat five girls; one of whom didn’t look completely dissimilar to Phoebe, with long blonde hair and hippie clothes. Virgil thought that perhaps it was on purpose, or maybe just a lucky coincidence. Although Virgil didn’t quite believe in coincidences. He chose instead to believe that figures, like the Fates from Greek mythology, liked to sit around and decide on fun ways to mess with Virgil.

Behind the Friends set up were four wooden tables with benches on both sides. They were relatively big; Virgil thought that with a squeeze, each bench could fit about eight people, meaning a table could seat sixteen. When the group walked a little further in, he saw four prominent, coloured banners hanging on the walls above the tables: yellow for Hufflepuff, red for Gryffindor, blue for Ravenclaw and green for Slytherin. Hanging above the tables were electronic candles. They weren’t on at that moment, but Virgil still thought they looked extremely cool, and it was a great detail to throw in.

Further back was a dark oak door. There was a sign on it, but from the distance, Virgil couldn’t make it out.

A small, dark wooden corner bar sat at the edge of the room. Over the top of the bar was a sign that said 'Puzzles'. Virgil couldn’t figure out what the bar was a reference to. To him it was, well, a puzzle. Virgil internally groaned. He’d been spending too much time with Patton.

In the centre of the room stood six circular tables with white table cloths covering them. Each table had a set of menus in the middle, accompanied with a small pink lamp on one side and a vase of (probably fake) roses. It was very cliché. Very romantic (not like Virgil would ever going with a date). Very tasteful. The whole set up gave Virgil a French vibe for some reason. Those tables definitely had the best view of the stage, but each only seated two people.

The stage itself was not very big. However, in the pretty small restaurant-café-bar-hybrid it looked bigger. It was clearly supposed to be the central point of focus. Red curtains hang open either side of the stage, although Virgil wasn’t sure if they were functional or not.

The whole place felt like someone at the movies had eaten a pick 'n mix bag of fandoms and then thrown it all up. In other words, it looked quite like their side of Virgil’s mind. The place was called 'The Mind Palace' after all.

Confirming all earlier suspicions, Roman's manager was very surprised to see him arrive early, even more so when he said he was there to help set up the stage. Turns out, they never actually put the equipment away since they had live music on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays and karaoke on Sundays. Virgil made a note in his phone about never going to the restaurant on Sundays.

With almost an hour to kill before Roman's performance, all four got a table. Well, shared a table with some strangers. The only tables left that could fit them all were the Hogwarts tables. Everyone agreed that Roman could pick the table so of course he picked Gryffindor which was the busiest.

Roman and Logan sat on one side, Logan wedged between Roman and a stranger. Roman insisted on sitting on the edge so that he could leave quickly to sing. Virgil sat on the end for the same reason, minus the singing. He also didn’t like the idea of being sardined next to a stranger. Logan wasn’t particularly fond of it either, but he knew that he’d have more space once Roman left, unlike Patton and Virgil who’d remain squished, so he didn’t complain... Much.

The menus were presented in rolled up scrolls. Virgil thought that was a nice touch. Roman informed his friends that each section of the restaurant had a specialised menu themed on what fandom they were from, except the Hogwarts section where the food was a big mix and match of everything. Roman's boss was the coolest.

Roman only ordered a drink, yet his still took the longest to order as his drink order was so unnecessarily complicated: warm milk with about one eighth of a cup of honey, a spoonful of sugar (a line that he sung, to which Virgil commented about how he really chose to be as extra as possible whenever he was given the opportunity), 3 drops of vanilla extract and several drops from a fresh lime.

The waitress sighed, "Roman, you know we don't stock any limes."

Roman smiled and threw the waitress, Mandy, a lime he brought out from his pocket. Seriously, what? Where did he get the lime from? Had he bought it before his manicure and had it in his pocket the whole time?

Mandy laughed, pocketing the lime. She continued to take their orders as if this was normal.

Mandy seemed to be used to Roman's stupid antics. If Virgil got a customer as annoying as Roman, he'd probably quit right then and there. Roman claimed the drink readied his throat for singing which was fair, except Virgil was sure plain water or milk would do fine. He was just being fussy.

The two vegetarians with glasses both ordered salads and vegetarian burgers. Logan ordered a green tea too. There was some boring reason for his choice that he'd explained to the rest, and the waitress, but Virgil had been really interested in his napkin while he was explaining and missed it.

Patton also ordered a regular burger for Virgil and hot chocolates for the both of them. Virgil had actually wanted a soda, but Patton thought a hot chocolate was more appropriate for the late hour. Virgil wasn’t going to protest.

The restaurant began to fill up in anticipation of Roman singing, but their food still came relatively quickly. It was delicious too. Everybody wolfed down their food and was finished before Roman's performance, except from Roman

"Logan, what time befalls us?" Roman asked dramatically, pointing at Logan's watch, as if he didn't have his phone in his hand.

"This watch shows the time in Greenland which I doubt would be of much use to you, however..." Logan briefly brought out his phone, "In our current time zone, the time would be four minutes to nine."

"Thanks teach." Roman said, sliding himself of of the bench. He slid his drink over to Virgil, "It's best when warm but I'm sure you'll still love it. Enjoy!"

Roman pranced off behind the bar and through a door before Virgil could protest. Virgil looked cautiously at the drink. Who knew what illness that drama queen could be hosting? Still, Virgil was curious.

He picked up the mug, discreetly warming it in his hands. Then, he sipped. Admittedly, despite being as obnoxious as it was, it was really good. Sweet enough to satisfy Virgil's sweet tooth, but not so sweet that he thought he'd have to schedule a dentist appointment straight afterwards. That lime really added a nice tang.

Virgil was brought back to attention by a gentle tap on the shoulder. Patton barely touched him, yet still received a static shock and shocked (in the less literal sense) Virgil.

"Sorry," he whispered, "But look!"

----------

Taglist: me, myself, I

Chapter 1:

Chapter 4:

Chapter 6:

#the storm that's brewing #tstb #tstb chapter 5 #prinxiety #logicality #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #moving this fic to tumblr is driving me insane

5 notes · View notes

angelynrostrand · 5 years

Text

Chapter 20

Summary: To the outside world, nothing should connect shy girl Angel Monroe and popular boy Xavier Hazelwood. But that isn't entirely true. They both hold secrets. Behind both of them lie 2 separate wolf packs. Xavier is well on his way to Alpha status and running the pack. Angel is not a wolf but instead the last healer in the world. When the realization comes forward that they are connected by destiny, will they decide to fulfill it? Is their connection predetermined by fate or will they choose their hearts? Lives and packs cross and mingle while romance and conflict brews. The story of 2 opposite souls on a collision path. Will destiny win out? Even the most innocent face, has the darkest secrets.

Word Count: 2,566

Thank God it is Friday. This week has been crazy. Between going back to school, getting ambushed, becoming somewhat popular, then trying to fix a tree that was destroyed by my mistakes, I am happy this week is over. I finish my homework for the week in my room alone. While placing my binder back in my school bag, I bump my desk causing all my papers to cover my floor. Tired and disappointed, I lower myself to the floor to pick it all up. As I do, I look at the art competition flyer that Miller gave me. I need to make a decision. Xavier wants me to do it and he has been texting me over and over telling me to. Annoying but cute that he wants me to join. I sit at my desk and use my laptop to do more research on it. I look at last years winner. He made a statement about how the money helped a lot in his first year of college at NYU. Next to the article, it has a photo of him with his prize and the judges. The more I do my research, the more I convince myself to do it. The official website has this years judges and a list of the competitors from high schools across the state. I scroll to find my name. I’m a little amused. It’s a reminder to make a decision. May 18th is the day of the competition. I open a new tab to email Miller and agree with joining in. If it will help with tuition money, I am all about it. I don’t want my father to pay for everything. I am always drawing, painting or shading might as well get money from it. If I win or if I don’t, at least I tried.

With the send button pushed, my brother comes in my room and slumps over onto my perfectly made bed. I laugh at this body language. He must be tired from this week too. He has been an amazing Alpha and leader. He was able to calm down the press and continues to please my father and the pack. “Yes, can I help you?” I turn my wheelie chair to face him.

“I’m hungry and death is coming.” He says looking up at my ceiling.

“I’m sorry, What do you want for dinner? Should I go get the kitchen staff to save you from your death,” I say.

“I already let them go for the week. We are on our own for dinner. All I know is that I am hungry and I need food in my system.” It is true wolves burn off their calories faster than humans, so they are always hungry.

I know we need to go grocery shopping. I couldn’t go last week due to my imposed bed rest, but maybe I should go now before it gets darker. “Do you still have a lot of work to do?” I ask

“Sadly yes. I have been receiving reports from father in Paris and...other stuff.” He says. He didn’t finish his sentence knowing father probably told him not to tell me anything else about the attack. But he has been working hard. I should cook dinner tonight.

“Okay, how about this,” I stand to collect my purse, my shoes, and my brother off my bed making him stand up, “finish work and I will go to the store. I will make dinner for us.” His mood lightens up at the thought of food. We walk out of my room and downstairs. “What would you like to eat?”

“I don’t know. I am feeling something like pasta.” Sounds good to me.

“Okay. I will go, but you need to finish work.” I push him back to the direction of his office.

“Wait wait wait. Before you go, take my car. So I can track you if something happens.” He hands me his keys. I was hoping to take my bike. I frown but obey. “Text me when you arrive and when you are about to leave. I need you safe. Yes?”

“Yes, Sir.” I stick my tongue out. When is he going to be less protective?

Within 15 minutes, I arrive at my local grocery store. I wrestle with the shopping cart to untangle the mess. I walk around to get our basic foods like bread, eggs, veggies, fruit, and meat. A lot of meat. I have never met a vegan wolf. They love their meat. It’s no joke they take their meat very seriously. While walking around I receive an email from Ms. Miller. I feel the vibration of my phone. It is confirmation from her along with resources like the fact I am able to use the art room after class. Her personal number if I need help. I read through the email and am pleased that I have her on my side guiding me through my first comp. At the end of the email, she apologizes about the little lie but is glad I am participating. I become so focused on my phone I run into a little boy. Well, the little boy ran into me. Literally, he was running around and bumped into my legs. He fell back onto the floor.

“Oh my! Are you ok?” I help his little body to stand up. I kneel down to match his level. “Hey, honey are you ok?” I ask one more time, sweeter. I give him a smile to make him feel comfortable around me. He is a cute little boy with light brown hair. Lighter than my hair, but he has brilliant blue eyes.

“I think so.” He smiles back. “I am sorry Miss. Did I hurt you? I didn’t see where I was going. I was playing.” He’s so cute especially for apologizing.

“No, I am ok. You should be careful next time.” I gently talk to him. “Where’s your mom or dad.” I don’t see any parents searching for him or calling for him. Is he lost?

“There are not here, but my brother is.” He looks back but no one is behind him. “He was here. He was playing with me. I don’t know where he went.” The little boy starts to get fussy and scared.

“That’s ok. We can find him. What’s your name?” We shuffle into a corner so we are not in other people’s way.

“Teddy? Teddy!” I hear a male calling out. It must be his brother. I stand up and look for him, brother. To find the stranger calling out. The voice gets closer and closer. I finally see his brother. Xavier? Xavier is his brother. This town is too small. Of course, Xavier’s little brother would run into me. I lift Teddy to my hip so Xavier can see Teddy at eye level rather than looking down for his small body. Teddy gladly lets me carry him.

“Xavier?” I call out to get his attention. “Xavier, does this one belongs to you?” I ask and hand over Teddy.

“Oh my god. Teddy. Please don’t ever do that again.” He holds him so close. Teddy wraps his small arms around Xavier’s neck. “I’m sorry.” He whispers to Teddy’s ear. I became in awe with the two siblings. It reminds me of my brother. Xavier’s looks like he can finally breathe. His love for his brother is cute. They look inseparable. But they don’t look anything alike. Xavier has more of an olive skin tone and Teddy skin is a cream color. Xavier’s eyes are dark brown and he has black hair. Still, I smile from ear to ear. I thought Xavier couldn’t get any cuter, but I realize I was wrong the moment I see him with Teddy. “Well, it looks like you were in good hands.” He mentions me and I shift my eyes so I’m no longer staring at the brothers.

“Oh, it’s fine.”

“Thank you again. You saved me and Teddy.” Xavier says and lets Teddy down to his own two feet. “My mom would tear me apart if I lost Teddy.”

“I’m just glad he is safe.” I smile back to Teddy. My heart always dies inside when I look at the missing children news at the local grocery store. Poor parents, poor child.

“Wait, you guys are friends?” the little voice at Xavier’s feet says.

“Yes, we are. Remember I told you about a girl named Angel. She is my mate.” He tells Teddy and looks back at me with oh shape mouth. Finally understanding who I am.

“Ohhh,” then whispers to Xavier, “she’s really pretty.”

“I know.” He whispers back. Even Teddy can make me blush and shy. The Hazelwood boys have to be related. They both are able to make me flustered.

“What are you guys doing here?” I try to change the topic.

“Last minute run for some ingredients. My mom sent me on a mission to get seasonings and tomatoes. But before we could, Teddy and I got distracted,” He tells me.

“Ya, I noticed.”

“Xavier, can I go back to Angel? I want her to hold me,” Teddy asks his older brother.

Goodness, he is so cute. Of course, you can! I want to scream out. My heart continues to melt for his boy. “How about you can sit in the cart?” With a quick nod, I take him from Xavier and place him in the child seat. “Sorry, Xavier I am taking him.” I stroll away from Xavier with Teddy laughing in my ear. Sadly, Xavier jogs and catches up with us. As I push the cart, Xavier stays next to me as we both do our own shopping. Teddy likes to play with my long hair. I don’t mind. Sometimes I brush the ends of my hair to his nose causing him to giggle. I bet it does tickle his nose.

“What is your favorite color?” Teddy asks.

“Yellow,” I respond.

“I like yellow. I also like purple.”

“What is your favorite class?”

“Art. What about you?”

“I like to play outside.”

What is your favorite food?”

“Pp and J,” Teddy says and goes back to asking questions.

I almost forgot Xavier was here until he makes a comment about “Stealing me.”

“Can you come to my party?” Teddy sweetly asks. I give Xavier a confused look.

“It’s like a birthday party for him. We finally finished the paperwork for my parents to adopt Teddy. We are celebrating him joining the Alpha family and his birthday is only in a couple of days. So we thought we can celebrate everything on one day.”

That makes more sense. They don’t really look alike and when I first met Xavier he said he was an only child until now. Things are making sense. I want to know more and why. Why? But I don’t want to be nosy. My curiosity is killing me to know more. I have been so caught up with my own life that I forget to ask about Xavier’s. He has his own problems and his own happiness that I am not aware of. I had no idea his family would be adopting. It’s a big change and I should be there to celebrate with him. Like how he has been for me. “Umm...I would love to come if that is alright with you,” I ask Xavier.

With a big smile, he says, “Yes, of course.” I give him the same type of smile.

“Yeah! Angel, is coming!” Little Teddy cheers.

We finish our shopping and make our way to the checkout line. We wait and wait until we both split into different checkout clerks. Teddy stayed with me in his seat as Xavier pay for his separate foods. Since he had less stuff to buy he came back to my line. I had a week's worth of food. We wait patiently as the older women scam each item. Xavier plays with Teddy so he doesn’t get bored waiting. I soon joined in.

Then the women muffle a small awe sound, catching our attention. “You guys are so cute. I just love young newlyweds.”

My eyes bolt out of my eyes from the lady’s mistake. “Oh no...we…” I try to stay calm and polite but her comment caught me off guard that no words seem to come out.

“Thank you, we are so happy together,” Xavier says as he pulls me in a side hug and playing into this mistake. My head whip to look at him with a slightly angry expression. What is he doing?

Then Teddy joins in, “I love you,” and jumps out of the seat to stand. His arms stretch out for me to carry him once again.

“What a cute family!” she continues. Do I really look that old enough where I am married and a mother? Xavier doesn’t look like your typical high schooler. Me? I think I look like my age. My hands are full and Xavier gives the lady my card to pay. All the food is bagged and in my cart. I am still shaking that just happened and I stood there like an idiot. I didn’t know how to explain that we are not together. Xavier is my friend? My mate? Boyfriend? This is his soon to be adopted brother? His brother in general? My words and voice were lost in that store. We just walk out with Xavier pushing the cart and Teddy still in my arms.

We make our way to my brother’s car. I finally ask, “Why did you do that?” Not angry but confused why he wants people to think we are a married couple with a child.

“Because it was fun. Look there was no harm done. It was fun to play along with her scenario. I do think we would make a lovely couple. Do you think so, son?”

“It was fun. Let’s do it again.”

“No. Let’s not.” I can’t believe a young boy like Teddy understood what was happening and played along like Xavier. Are you sure you guys aren’t blood-related? I want to ask. “You guys are crazy and I have to go and cook dinner.” I hand “my son” to “my husband”, but Teddy’s grip is strong.

“Come on buddy you have to let go,” Xavier encourages.

“I don’t want to. I want to stay with Angel.” He starts to throw a fit.

“Teddy we can hang out later. I’ll see you at your party and we can play. Ok? But I need to go.” I try to speak softly and slow enough for him to understand. He nods and goes back to Xavier’s arms.

I say my final goodbyes to the Hazelwood boys and drive back home. The more I think about it, it was kind of funny. Then I soon laugh the rest of the way home. Xavier is still mad for doing that and trying to act like a married couple for that poor lady. She didn’t know any better but do we really look like newlyweds? The thought shivers down my spine. It’s too fast to think like that. I’m too young. I can’t think about that. But why do I smile when I think about Xavier as my husband? I shake my head to clear my thoughts. It’s a silly thought. An immature thought.

#in an ordinary world #healer #soulmates #writing #werewolf #wolf pack

1 note · View note

strawberri-syrup · 3 years

Text

misread fussily as fussy. what have i become

#having a crisis <3 #isnt it fussy friday???#maybe it was fate

0 notes

jrwiyuri · 3 years

Text

I was gone for like an hour and apparently I have accidentally influenced the creation of Fated Fussy Friday

#stupid snake talk #fucking good!!

3 notes · View notes

thegreenhorseman · 5 years

Text

February is a major month at my farm, and for Unbridled Thoroughbred Foundation these days.

February 13th: Zeno Bay was saved from Moore’s Killpen.

February 20th: Vai Via was saved from Moore’s Killpen.

February 21st: Someone celebrates a birthday!

Our very own Zeno Bay is celebrating 21 years of life today, a birthday he might not have seen if it weren’t for the generosity of the donors to Unbridled Thoroughbred Foundation.

I cannot account for this horse for his first twenty years but I can try to fill in the blanks.

According to Equibase Zeno Bay was born to Muirfield Ventures in Maryland on February 21st, 1998. He was bred by Citidancer out of Guibilante (New to the horse terms? “By” refers to the father, or sire, and “out of” refers to the mother, or dam).

All of my research on Muirfield Ventures leads me to Muirfield Farm (in MD) which was sold in 1999. My guess (all I have to go on) is that this farm sold and liquidated through Muirfield Ventures. He would have been a yearling at this point if still on premises during the sale.

His first owner appears as Jean B Morris (trainer Earl Begley) on the schedule for his first race, a cloudy Friday April 4, 2001 at Charles Town, West Virginia. Then three year old Zeno Bay placed 3rd after a quick, dirty, 4.5 furlongs.

A month later Zeno ran his second race and broke his maiden. Wednesday was another cloudy day at Charles Town and Zeno ate those 4.5 furlongs, pulling even farther ahead in the home stretch.

Zeno Bay ran his third and forth races coming in 3rd and 2nd, respectively. He won his fifth race at Pimlico (Baltimore, MD) on the clear Saturday of July 7, 2001. This track was 6 furlongs this time and it was this race that he had changed hands to Oswald H. Redman (trainer Jeff Runco). He was claimed for $6500.

This was the last time Zeno Bay ran in the money. For the first 5 races he placed in the money (1st, 2nd, or 3rd) but he struck out in 7th in his final two races.

In the first race since changing owners he was claimed yet again only two weeks later back at Charles Town Saturday July 21, 2001. He only came in 7th but he was purchased for $7500 by James W. Shawyer (trainer Thomas E Mazerski). His career ended August 4th with another 7th place run. These are his last known traceable details.

Photo courtesy of Trish Bode

I can tell you he has poor feet, dental issues, arthritis, and a bowed tendon. His circulatory system appears to be compromised, but I am no vet.

I cannot talk to what happened during or after his career at the track and I have only shared with you information that is readily available through a simple Google search. I have been unsuccessful finding any details about the people and I will not criticize them without knowing the whole story. They very well could have meant well and are completely clueless as to how Zeno Bay found himself next in line for slaughter last year.

From 2001 to 2018 spans seventeen years. Zeno Bay had lived somewhere, been something, for SEVENTEEN YEARS. Where? Who knows.

I have ridden the handsome fellow and he is bombproof, I have yet to see him spook at anything. He takes a lot of leg and encouragement so I carry a crop, but he is also very willing. His gaits are extremely comfortable and his canter is a dream. He knows how to carry himself and set his head and doesn’t require a heavy hand, but he’s not fussy at all either.

This leads me to wonder if he had been a lesson horse. He rides like one, and he would have been a lovely hunter horse for children’s shows. I wonder if children grew up with this horse. I wonder what they would think if they found out about his fate.

Zeno Bay upon redemption from Moore’s killpen 02/16/2018

Unbridled found Zeno Bay in Moore’s killpen slightly more than a year ago. Waiting among others to be hauled from Pennsylvania to Canada and killed for meat. The angels of Unbridled rallied and bought him another chance at life.

He was redeemed February 13th, 2018. After quarantine he went to live at Breezy Hills in Maryland. Here, in the “care” of Breezy Hills his condition degraded immensely. He was emaciated, loaded with parasites, had dental issues, and had a quarter crack in his hoof to the coronet band. Killpens hold horses in order to feed them and put weight on the before shipping for meat. Zeno Bay had a better body score at the killpen than he did when I first met him in September 2018. I visited him only days after his return to New York where Susan dewormed him, got him the dental care he needed, and provided ample hay and water. Within a week he was in my care at home, and had already gained weight during the week he was in New York.

10/18/2018

11/16/2018

02/20/2019

Since then Zeno Bay has blossomed. He enjoys my company and leaves the other two boys to be with me. If I take Blade out to have one on one time Zeno is there waiting at the gate for our return as if to say “my turn.” He’s not waiting for Blade, he ignores Blade when we return. It’s his person he waits for. He’s always curious and wants to know about me and what I’m up to. He often musses up my hair or tries to share his breakfast which he drops all over the place. He tells me where his itchy spots are. Some days I go out on the ATV, kill the engine, and just sit quietly with the boys. Zeno Bay is always the first to come and position himself right where he wants to be touched. Sometimes it’s his cheek, sometimes his neck, and he definitely loves a good chest rub. He smiles from the depths of his big lovable heart.

I’ve been slowly putting weight on him, feeding an aged horse that was already thin and in lesser health during the winter is a struggle. I have been addressing many of his issues and he keeps me on my toes. We have de-wormed him with a Powerpack. I have addressed his legs stocking up during a rainstorm when he didn’t get enough movement. I exercised him (walked) in the frigid temperatures of January after his sheath had become swollen and painful from edema; I also suspect this is from not enough movement as it happened during a snow storm and he didn’t move around much. I have been constantly addressing a stubborn case of thrush and white line in his feet (not to mention the issues in my own horse’s feet). I have also successfully rid him of lice (EWW). These scenarios are why I, a non-medical professional, might suspect cardiac/circulation issues. Either way he is loved and cared for.

Today he is officially 21 years old! He is doing very well and living his best life thanks to Unbridled Thoroughbred Foundation.

If you’d like to make a donation to Unbridled in honor of Zeno Bay, please visit https://www.paypal.me/UnbridledTBF

https://www.facebook.com/UnbridledThoroughbredFoundation/

Happy Birthday To… February is a major month at my farm, and for Unbridled Thoroughbred Foundation these days. February 13th: Zeno Bay was saved from Moore's Killpen.

#Animals #Birthday #Family #HappyBirthday #Horse #horselover #HorseRescue #Horses #Love #Progress #TheGreenHorseman #UnbridledThoroughbredFoundation #ZenoBay

0 notes

mindfulrunner · 6 years

Text

#54: daring greatly: mississauga race report

the seed: rebellious child

I have a sassy, rebellious, high-energy toddler and I am still at heart a sassy, rebellious, high-strung child. I signed up for the Mississauga full as an act of rebellion. He was sick, and I was covered in snot and tired out of my gourd, but I did it anyway.

I thought: f*** it. I tempted fate.

Even though I have a rebellious streak, I fear and respect the marathon, and situations and circumstances I fear and respect tend to bring out the best in me. So that f*** it was also a tiny prayer: may I dig, dig, dig. May I get the most out of myself. Inspired by the openness of Shalane Flanagan and Gwen Jorgensen, I also put out my ambitious, challenging, yet within reach goal: to PB and break 3:07.

training: the limiting factor

Training this cycle went well overall, except for a major limiting factor: illness. Elliot picked up virus after virus at daycare, and I seemed to get every single one, except they lasted twice as long for me, and instead of taking off sick days to rest and take care of myself, I took them off to take care of him. Between January and May, I was sick with three upper respiratory tract infections (URTI) the flu (first time getting this in many years), and 3 GI viruses (at least one of the GI bugs was food poisoning, I think). In previous cycles, I got URTIs a couple of times that lingered, I assume because I chose to train through them, as long as I didn’t have a fever and my energy levels were OK. This year, the first of these infections struck just one week after seeing my naturopathic doctor at the end of January and telling her my immunity was great. Figures.

I was sick, or caring for Elliot, pretty much all of February, and I was intensely frustrated. At the same time, I was wrapping up a huge 5-month project at work that was overdue, and trying to maintain some fitness, mostly by running easy. Typically, I would feel OK after easy runs, but then the day after a harder effort like a long run or workout, I’d feel worse, and ease off again. On two occasions I took longer stretches off – 3 or 4 days— but had a hard time taking a full week off, which is what I probably should’ve done. My issue was I have zero faith in my immune system, and didn’t quite believe I’d get totally better with that amount of time off, since even when I’m not training colds and infections often last well over a week. In February, I averaged just 60k a week, ran only one proper long run of 28k, and 3 workouts total. In my last marathon cycle, I averaged 100+, hit all my long runs and workouts.

I raced the Chilly half sick at the beginning of March, another questionable life choice, and somehow ran a PB. It felt very hard from 6k on, which was early for me to push, and it was the first time in a long time I questioned my ability to complete a race. I coughed for a good five minutes straight at the end uncontrollably. In that moment, I really regretted what I had just done and had no joy in the PB, assuming I would get pneumonia or something, and screw over my work and family even more. Going into it, I wasn’t even sure I was going to race, but when I began to pick up the pace, I got competitive, wanted the PB, and somehow performed beyond my fitness and circumstances. Getting 100% out of myself on race day, despite only having 70-80% in my training, became my focus going into the marathon. I also figured if I could run 90 minutes on pretty bad training, the equivalent of a 3:09 marathon, I had a very good shot of PBing and, on a good day, maybe even running in the low 3s.

I got lucky and oddly enough actually felt better after racing Chilly. In March I averaged 94k per week, and in April I averaged 94k again. However, I only ran 7 weeks over 80k, and 6 of those were over 90k. In the last marathon cycle, I ran 12 weeks over 90k. So my overall build was not, for me, high-mileage. Workouts went OK. I ran marathon pace tempos between 4:21 and 4:25 pace. 4:21 felt too hard and 4:23 began to feel like the sweet spot. I had some craptacular long runs and workouts, and I noticed that these were occurring during the high-hormone, mid-luteal phase of my menstrual cycle. That started to psych me out, as the marathon fell on the same day. For more info, check this out:

pre-race: zero chill workin’ mom

The week before the marathon, a colleague abruptly went on vacation, which added an unexpected amount of stress to my workweek. Jeff was on days, which meant I was responsible for both pick-ups and drop-offs to daycare, which was also a little challenging, since Elliot seemed to be going through a period of separation anxiety again: he literally wouldn’t let go of my hand at daycare, and it broke my heart to pry his little fingers off one by one. Major mom guilt.

Taking over my colleague’s duties meant I was responsible for a project with a noon deadline the Monday after the race. F*** THAT, I thought. I worked my butt off to get it finished up as best as I could by Friday, putting in a 13-hour day, and dealing with Elliot, who was still not doing great: really fussy and clingy. I did not even have the time or presence of mind to properly track my carbs that day, although I think I got in around 500g.

After an awful night in terms of sleep, stress, and— OK I’ll admit it— a piss-poor attitude on Friday, I was super grumpy and lazed around all day Saturday. Jeff brought Elliot in to the walk-in and it turned out he had a nasty ear infection, poor dude, so I was concerned about him as well and cancelled the post-race party at our house. We called in reinforcements, and my mom agreed to come in the morning to watch him, so Jeff could still come to the race.

It was only at 5pm that I properly started getting my head into the race. I realized all my gels and nutrition contained caffeine, so I zipped to the Runner’s Shop for some non-caffeinated ones and also picked up a sweet pair of Goodr sunglasses since I wasn’t totally sure where my normal running ones were. Then I returned home and got my bag and clothes ready with Elliot. Instead of being in bed by 9 as I should’ve, I made a pace cheat sheet with my goal 5, 10, 15, half, 25, and 30k times, as well as directions for the final really tricky with a bunch of twists and turns. I wrote out the directions moreso to ease my anxiety about the course, which I practiced running the previous week. I don’t think I fell asleep until late, maybe midnight, and was up at 4:40 to scarf down my oats.

execute: PB or bust

My goal was to PB. I didn’t care if I blew up. And I was a bit greedy. I wanted to run 3:03-3:04. I wanted to be well within striking distance of a fall sub-3. I wanted to prove this was my distance, this is where I shine. No plan B.

the race: hello glycogen depletion my old friend

Morning of, the temperatures were looking a bit warmer than expected, so I got a little nervous. And as with the Ottawa Marathon, I couldn’t properly go to the bathroom which was so weird. I wonder if carb loading messes up my digestion?

My teammate picked me up and we drove the short 30 minutes to the finish line to take the shuttle to the start. We missed our exit, and I ended up not really listening to my pre-race visualization and jams properly. At the start, I changed and immediately lined up for the bathroom and again tried to go but couldn’t. I very briefly warmed up, just 1k with a few strides, before searching for my teammates, Jake and Gar, who were going to run a similar pace. The plan was to start out at 4:23, but Gar was quicker after a few kms, so Jake and I let him go. Neither Jake or I felt great from the outset. We both had a shin issue that migrated into a hip issue, and I my calf started to cramp at 5k. However, I stayed calm, if not positive, knowing that marathons are long and these things can majorly shift. I especially tried to take the downhills in a controlled way to avoid slapping and aggravating my shin again.

As usual, the GPS watch just provided a guesstimate. This guesswork does tend to add some mystery and suspense into the effort, as I’m never totally sure if I’m hitting my goal, even if the numbers say I am, and I usually try a bit harder just in case. However, feeling that Gar was a very controlled pacer, and wondering why he’d gone ahead when he’d only wanted 3:05, I grew concerned we were running too slow. Between 8-14 k there were a few faster kilometres: 4:15, 4:17, etc. At 14k, I pulled out my sheet with the split times and some older women spectating chirped, “You don’t need a map, honey”, but the sheet told me that we were running well under our goal pace, that Gar was fast, and not to worry about him and just do our own thing.

From that point on, Jake and I took turns leading until about 24-25k when I was officially slowing and starting to feel pretty crappy and let him go.

I don’t fully remember why I was slowing, if it was just overall discomfort or a negative mindset, or if my calf or hip were bothering me more. But I remember consciously letting him go, yet wanting to keep him in sight, and beginning to feel like the race was slipping from my control. I remember too, trying to quiet the needling thought: this is too early to feel so bad. I must’ve quieted most of my thoughts successfully, because I don’t really remember much about the next hour of the race. Maybe I lost focus? Or maybe I was incredibly focused on just hanging on. I don’t remember.

Something I struggled with that I could have controlled, maybe because I was distracted by what my teammates were doing and not running my own race, was fueling. I didn’t have a written plan, didn’t take the little baby bottles (literally baby bottles, ha ha!) of Maurten Jeff handed me, and didn’t take Gatorade at every station as I did at Ottawa. I think I took 4 gels total. I began to bonk around 34, 35k pretty hard. My watch was mostly in the low 4:30s, whereas I had wanted it in the low 4:20s. Around 35k, my heart rate also dropped according to Garmin? I’m still wondering if this was a fluke.

It was suit of armor hard, like in my first marathon. But I was reassured by the fact I was breathing pretty well, which to me signified it was still a manageable, if intense, effort. Not dead yet. I don’t think I took in any fuel after 37k, which again was silly, but I finally took one of the little bottles Jeff handed to me just prior to that. After 37, the effort to take Gatorade or a gel at that point seemed overwhelming. I need to learn to mentally prepare to work with this feeling and override it.

Luckily, during this period of bonking and serious effort, I did focus mentally, since I had women around me I was competing with. One woman in blue was wearing headphones and had very strong surges; we ran alongside each other for parts beginning at about 34k. We eventually caught up to a woman in black, who looked strong and was being paced by 2 male runners. I took their encouragement to her as my own “You’re doing great” and “Now’s the time to push if you have anything left” and we played cat and mouse a bit. I took the tangents straight, a bit aggressively, elbows a little out.

Because the course was so twisty, I did not have the finish line in sight until the last 100m or so, although I could hear the crowds. Finally, with about 20m-50m to go, my competitor in black, who I later learned was named Karoline, had a huge kick but I somehow responded (despite apparently not using my arms at all!) and caught her at the line and came 4th woman by 1/10 of a second. My teammates were pleased I put on a funny show at the end.

I had snuck under my PB of 3:07:36 by 50 seconds, running 3:06:46. It was a satisfying result, looking back, but I still somehow felt I’d messed up the race and felt a bit deflated, if not disappointed. Immediately after I felt terrible and needed my puffer in my bag, so I just focused on getting that instead of soaking in the accomplishment as much.

Next time, I will be more grateful. PBs are PBs, and they don’t come forever.

But there are things to improve: higher mileage. Immunity. Fuelling. Form.

after: and when it was bad it was horrid

After the race: I. Was. Trashed. Possibly worse than after my first full. My calves and quads were dead, my lips were blue for a good hour despite wearing multiple layers, my cough was bad, and my old groin injury had somehow resurfaced. I was a GD mess. I was in pain standing and walking, but afraid to sit and cramp up.

Nothing looked more appealing than a woman, probably late 50s, laying on the grass with her legs up and feet on the trash can. I laid next to her and we chatted and both had the sillies and shared some jokes and stories. She asked my time and I asked hers. She was late to running, and expressed joy at discovering it later in life. She asked me “how’s your mind”? And I said, “Fine. I think. But you know. I shouldn’t drive” and we both cracked up laughing. She had a beautiful laugh. It was probably my favourite moment in the race besides…

BESDIES MY TEAMMATES ABSOLUTELY CRUSHING IT. Jake, Heidi, Martina, and others had absolutely mind-blowing races. I was elated for them.

Walking to the truck wasn’t possible, so after I picked up my age category prize (4th overall, 1st in age group), we walked a little until Jeff got the truck and drove back to get me. Congratulatory texts and posts started streaming in. The satisfaction of the accomplishment moreso came to me secondhand.

gone gone beyond gone.

During the race, the heart sutra surfaced. Gate (pronounced: gah-eh), gate, paragate para sam gate, bodhi svaha!

I first learned it after I listened to Michael Stone’s podcast during a cold, wintery sidewalk run in the suburbs at my parents’ house. In the podcast, Michael said it’s a very good sutra to say after someone has died; for me it comes up in the blank part of a run that’s just effort, where I’m struggling to settle back into it and just accept. Instead I cling to it for distraction, for something to hold on to. One last clinging thing. I also just like the rhythm of it. It’s like counting to eight again and again in a run, but better.

We chanted it at Spirit Loft and at Downward Dog after Michael died in his memory.

Sometimes it arises out of nowhere, which was what happened in the race. Michael translated it as: gone, gone, beyond gone, across the other shores (the tone of “across to the other shores” is a bit celebratory because of the “svaha!” like a bit of a hooray thrown in).

After the result on the car ride home, I squirmed and fished around, looking to find what was gone, struggling to settle in my accomplishment, in the extreme effort of crossing to the other shore.

I texted my brother, and Jeff previously texted my mom. Fourth woman sounds kinda cool, and it’s the type of thing non-runners usually find more interesting than running a certain time. Maybe what I needed was the validation. I scrolled through the congratulatory messages I received, searching there too. Trying to find the hooray on the other shore, the bit of joy. But I couldn’t.

The truth is I always feel a peach pit in my throat and ache in my chest after a race since my dad died. A text was never sufficient for the depth and breadth of his enthusiasm for my running. He would want a phone call with a detailed play-by-play. He would’ve looked up the result. He probably would’ve been there, cheering, telling me to kick butt. He would have gasped with amazement and interest that I’d outkicked someone at the line with an “Em-chen! You’re kiddin’!” and a big WOW, and would’ve called me “fast twitch” in the next few emails or texts he sent me.

I didn’t make the mistake of trying to search for my dad in my mom. They are different. I am growing. I didn’t begrudge her for not being him. The night before the race, she told Jeff that after my dad ran his first marathon, she let him know she wouldn’t support him running them anymore. I asked her about it when we got home from the race, curious but also already knowing why. She said, “It’s too extreme, the training takes too much time, you get too thin. My friends were asking what was wrong with him, he got to 145 lbs. 10ks, those are fine. But I said, with three little kids, we wouldn’t come to your races. You could do it on your own time. But we won’t support it.”

At one time I would’ve seen a jab in these words, a pin to deflate my victory balloons, which were already pretty sad and deflated. But now I frame it as touching: a mother’s concern, her sharp attention, even though I am grown up now, noticing and worrying about the lines in my face, the cough that won’t go away, the apparent lack of rest and pleasure in my life, the strange seriousness and intensity of my hobbies.

I sent her a text thanking her again for her help with Elliot and explaining, “I know running isn’t the most pleasant/healthiest hobby but for me it is very exciting to discovery athleticism, teammates, and a sport I have some skill at. Really really appreciative of your help.” She responded, “You are welcome. Glad you were happy with results. My bias will always be for optimal health. Which everyone perceives differently.”

My dad perceived optimal health differently than her, too. He sprinted the last part of his easy runs with his running mates, racing for fun. He always beat Rob, and mostly beat Sean. He ate the burger and the chips. He sometimes had the extra drink. He got chippy in the corners at hockey and didn’t control his emotions very well at all when fishing or playing golf. From the outside, his leisure time sometimes looked stressful. He had a rebellious streak, too. And he savoured the juices of life.

shore up

I am my father and my mother. I am the rebellious, intense child, but also the patient, steadfast mother. I don’t want to run reckless. I try and do things that impact Elliot the least: lunch runs, run commutes, 5:00am runs while he is sleeping. I don’t want to compromise my long-term health in a serious way, or my connections with Jeff and Elliot. I don’t think I am.

But I can’t deny I’m curious. I’m hungry. I’m keenly interested in limits. I want to be a student of limits. There is a spark here, there is a flame. I’m protective of it. I want to tend to it.

As a teenager and in my twenties, I shrank myself to accommodate my parents’ expectations. Risk-taking was out of sight, never in the open. The dark parts of my personality were hidden away the best that I could and came out in sulking and silence. My seriousness and intensity came out in academics, the secret crushes I had, and maybe our political and philosophical arguments around the dinner table, but I didn’t express it openly in my hobbies. I wrote but always in secret. I wrote with expletives, experimentally, raw and weird and my mom came across my blog once, the F bombs and all, and was shocked and disturbed, and never again followed any of us on social media. I published a poem but later requested it be removed from a website, ashamed of my rawness. I hemmed up all my raw edges.

But my goal this year is to neither puff myself up, press on foolishly headlong into bad decisions, stubborn and imagining myself so alone, nor shrink into the background resentfully, obediently, and only do-- on the surface-- what’s normal or expected or desired from others.

Neither puff up nor shrink. But also ask: why not me?

I see no reason I can’t achieve big goals.

I see no reason I can’t go sub-3.

I say this neither puffed up with ego, or shriveled with shame about the intensity of my own interests, the extremeness of my personality that befuddles and perhaps annoys others, even those I love the most.

So many of the skills I have as a runner– equanimity, understanding and maintaining boundaries, mental toughness, a desire to research, detachment, a deeper spiritual faith or purpose underlying my actions, the deeply joyful appreciation of nature on the trails and recreational paths– all of these things come from my mother.

But some skills come from my dad, too: taking corners aggressively with elbows out, the cycling between anxiety and excitement, the runner’s high, the chicken-leg calves, the competitive show-boat streak, the hacking cough, the imagination running wild late at night or at work with fantasies of fast finishes and faster times and unimaginable improvement.

The fascination with something like the heart sutra appearing unannounced at the end of a hard effort? Well, that one is the best. And that one is both of them.

I am a blend of the two, one measured and questioning, one seeking and a little recklessly enthusiastic.

And I am so much more: a mother, a partner, a sister, a teammate, a spiritual seeker.

Why not me?

#mississauga marathon #mother runner #race report

0 notes