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troubatrain · 3 years

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want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets.

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you.

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter.

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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scotianostra · 3 years

Photo

Happy 34th Birthday Andy Murray born in Glasgow on May 15, 1987, to Judy and William Murray.

Andrew Barron Murray grew up in Dunblane and began playing tennis at age 3. A former competitive tennis player, Judy coached Andy and his older brother, Jamie, in their early years.

In March 1996, while 8-year-old Murray was sitting in his classroom at Dunblane Primary School, an armed man entered the building, and shot and killed 17 people—16 students and one teacher—before committing suicide by turning the gun on himself. During the horrible event, Murray ran and hid in his headmaster’s office. It still surprises me today that some people are unaware of this tumultuous thing happened in Andy’s life and he picked himself up and achieved so much

Andy scored a major youth championship when he won Florida’s Orange Bowl in his age group in 1999. In 2004, he became the world’s No. 1 junior after winning the U.S. Open junior title. Later that year, he was named the BBC’s “Young Sports Personality of the Year.”

Shortly after becoming the youngest British player to compete in the Davis Cup, Murray made his professional debut in April 2005. In 2006, with new coach Brad Gilbert, Murray beat top-ranked Roger Federer in Round 2 of the Cincinnati Masters tournament. Also that year, he defeated Andy Roddick en route to winning the SAP Open for his first ATP title. A year later Murray claimed a second straight SAP Open and also won the St. Petersburg Open to break into the Top 10 rankings

Murray emerged in the tennis spotlight when he defeated Spanish sensation Rafael Nadal to reach the final of the 2008 U.S. Open, before losing to Federer. He ascended to No. 2 in the world in 2009, and finished runner-up at the Australian Open in both 2010 and 2011.

In 2012, Murray made it to the Wimbledon final for the first time with his semifinal win over Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, the first home grown player to reach the final since 1938. However, Murray lost in the final to Federer, who claimed his seventh Wimbledon win.

Murray avenged his Wimbledon loss at the 2012 Summer Olympic Games, held in London, where he beat Federer to take his first Olympic gold medal. That September, he continued to burn up the courts with an impressive run through the U.S. Open field. Murray scored an impressive victory over Novak Djokovic in a tough five sets to clinch his first Grand Slam title. becoming the first player from the British Isles since 1977—and the first British man since 1936—to win a Grand Slam singles tournament.

After losing to Djokovic at the 2013 Australian Open, Murray made history that summer by defeating the Serbian player to claim the Wimbledon men’s singles championship. He was the first British male to win the tournament in 77 years and the second Scottish-born player to win Wimbledon since Harold Mahony in 1896 a gap of 117 years.

Murray underwent back surgery in September 2013 following his loss in the quarterfinals of the U.S. Open. His performance was uneven for much of the 2014 season, though he made news by hiring former women’s champion Amelie Mauresmo to be his coach.

Andy seemingly was back on track when he reached his fourth Australian Open final in early 2015. That March, he scored career victory No. 500 while competing at the Miami Open.

Murray followed with an impressive run at the 2015 French Open, battling back from a two-set deficit in the semifinals before succumbing to Djokovic. A few weeks later, he reached the semifinals of Wimbledon, but his hopes of advancing were cut short by the ageless Federer. Murray’s subsequent fourth-round loss at the U.S. Open not only thwarted his last chance for a major title in 2015, it snapped his streak of 18 consecutive appearances in a Grand Slam quarterfinal.

Andy Murray began the 2016 season on a strong note, advancing to the Australian Open final before suffering another loss to his nemesis, Djokovic. However, he gained some revenge by defeating Djokovic to claim the Italian Open in May, and then sustained his high level of play through the French Open. With his semifinal win over defending champion Stan Wawrinka, Murray became the first British player to reach the French Open final since 1937. However, his bid to add another Slam title fell short when he wound up on the losing end of a blistering Djokovic onslaught once again.

In July 2016, Murray advanced to the semifinals at Wimbledon after defeating Jo Wilfried-Tsonga. In the final, he upended Milos Raonic, the first Canadian man to make it to the Wimbledon final, 6-4, 7-6, 7-6. The victory was Murray’s third Grand Slam title.

The following month, Murray continued his sterling play by defeating Argentina’s Juan Martin del Potro at the Rio Games, making him the first male tennis player to successfully defend his Olympic singles title.

Despite concerns over a lingering hip injury, Murray returned to Wimbledon in 2017 as the defending champion and progressed to the third round with straight set wins against Alexander Bublik and Dustin Brown.He dropped his first set of the tournament to Fabio Fognini but proceeded to the fourth round in four sets. Murray continued to the quarter final with a straight set victory against Benoit Paire. However, he was defeated in the quarter-final by Sam Querrey in five sets. Since then he has lost his world number one ranking and undergone surgery.

In March 2018 Murray lost his British number one ranking to Kyle Edmund for the first time since 2006.

In January 2019 a very emotional Murray announced at a press conference that his career was possibly over due to struggling physically for a “long time”, particularly with his hip injury. He said that he had been suffering with hip pain on a daily basis, and that it caused him to struggle with tasks like putting his shoes and socks on. He spoke of the possibility of a second hip surgery, but expressed doubt this would be a viable option to prolong his career, merely allowing him to “have a better quality of life, and be out of pain”

He said he hoped to play on until at least Wimbledon but that the upcoming Australian Open could well be his last tournament, he later went out in the second round. Andy admitted “I’m not sure I can play through the pain for another four or five months”

The top American doubles player Bob Bryan urged Andy to have the Birmingham Hip Resurfacing Operation that helped him return to top flight tennis. Informing him that the BHR would improve his quality of life and may help him return to the professional tennis tour. The orthopedic surgeon who pioneered the treatment said in an interview he could forecast a return to the sport “in the high 90 per cent” Andy had the surgery that Februar and on 7 March, Murray stated in an interview that he was now free of pain in his hip as a result of the surgery and may therefore return to playing competitive tennis, but that any potential Wimbledon return would be dependent on how his hip felt, and that he would not rush his comeback and may test his condition by playing doubles.

Andy has since played a number of doubles matches, the most anticipated was the dream pairing with Serena Williams at Wimbledon last year, they lost in the third round to the top seeds. He continued playing the doubles circuit till late that year before returning to singles, losing his first few matches was no surprise, this was about getting back to match fitness and he dropped down to the second tier “Challenger circuit” to regain his match fitness, winning his first match since January.

At the end of November 2019, a television documentary, Andy Murray: Resurfacing, was released on Amazon Prime, detailing Murray’s various attempts to overcome his hip injury over a two-year period from his defeat at Wimbledon in 2017 to his doubles victory at Queen’s Club in 2019. December saw him withdraw from the the Australian Open and the inaugural ATP Cup with a pelvic injury.

Andy continues to try and gain match fitness and was recently in action in Rome as he prepares for the French Open which starts on May 30th, he has also been handed an invitation to the Queens Club competition on the run up to Wimbledon. Andy has fallen to 123rd in the world rankings. He missed out on the Australian Open due to quarantine protocols after contracting the coronavirus and has not had much competitive action since.

The three-time Grand Slam winner is now stepping up his preparations for a potential singles comeback in either Geneva or Lyon next week.

In his personal life April 2015 saw Andy Murray marry longtime girlfriend Kim Sears at Dunblane Cathedral in his hometown. They had met at the U.S. Open in 2005, they have four bairns, Sophia, Edie, Teddy, and a new boy born in March, which I can’t find the name of online!

#scotland #scottish #Tennis #sportsman #grand slam winner #champion #birthday

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homeformyheart · 3 years

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hey~

hope you are having an amazing week!

how would you feel about doing a noah harris x mc request from the best vs worst prompts?

maybe 21. best day at school vs worst day at school OR 27. best game vs worst game?

hi anon! thank you for the request, #27 was fitting and allowed me to close-out the chapter of my noah x mc arc (a little bit got cut out from my outline, but at least now it's finished).

author’s note: when I got this prompt, I decided to take the outline I had written for a continuation of my other MTFL fics and retro-fit it here, which is why it’s a bit longer than typical prompt fills. this finally gave me the motivation to continue the relationship I started in “first choice” and “the perfect gift.” I also drew some real-life inspiration from patrick mahomes of the kansas city chiefs (national football league in the u.s.). enjoy!

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: my two first loves - noah harris x mc (emma price) rating/warnings: 13+; none based on/prompt: best vs. worst / 27. best game vs. worst game; also inspired by the song “never really over” by katy perry word count: 1.7k summary: two years after graduating college and agreeing to go their separate ways, the universe seems to want emma and noah back together.

best game vs. worst game

worst game

emma tapped her finger on her thigh nervously as she waited in her boss’s office for her first assignment. she had spent the last two years since graduating college curating a travel blog for a small magazine, which had allowed her to travel all over europe, north america, and south america – an experience she knew was probably once-in-a-lifetime.

but she was homesick and decided to return stateside once her contract was up. it didn’t take long to find a position with a professional agency that contracts photographers out for high-profile athletic and celebrity events. even as a junior photographer, she was going to have the chance to take her own photos.

her boss finally handed her a sheet of paper without so much as a glance, motioning toward the door. emma supposed she was excused then, quickly scanning the sheet as she walked out to her car. a pre-nfl charity meet-and-greet was the assignment, and if she wanted, she could stick around to take some back-up photos of the game.

seemed easy enough. except the team was the nightingales. where her ex-boyfriend was currently the quarterback.

a little over two years ago

noah gripped emma’s hand, leg thumping nervously in anticipation. his other hand held hazel’s, who wasn’t faring much better at keeping still. on the other hand, mrs. harris had sat frozen still in front of the t.v. for the last thirty minutes, and emma had to keep glancing over to make sure she was still breathing.

to say they were all on edge was an understatement. in a matter of minutes, they’d find out of noah was going to become a professional football player.

“and the twenty-third pick goes to… noah harris!”

the room filled with squeals as they all jumped up from the couch and gathered noah into a giant group hug. his arm never left emma’s waist, even as he lifted hazel off the ground in excitement.

“you’re coming with me, right?”

she avoided his gaze, choosing to hug him and duck her head underneath his chin instead.

“tonight is about you! we can talk about us tomorrow. we should be celebrating!”

emma took a deep breath and pulled her car out onto the main road, making sure her phone was navigating to the stadium. she hadn’t seen or spoken to noah since they broke up – even though he tried to understand her reasoning, which was that he needed to focus on football and she was going to be traveling constantly – and she wondered if he was still upset.

if they ran into each other, would he even acknowledge her?

her mind raced with different scenarios of how their “reunion” could go and before she knew it, she was pulling into the stadium parking lot reserved for press. you’re here to do a job, she reminded herself as she took a deep breath and made her way into the meet-and-greet area where players were speaking to and hanging out with several families and children.

she took a quick look around and sighed in relief when she didn’t see noah anywhere. she could do this.

about an hour later, she was packing up her equipment. the game would start soon and she needed to get into position. she hefted her bag onto her shoulder carefully before standing up, immediately wobbling under the weight and losing her balance.

a strong arm wrapped around her waist and steadied her.

“thank you—” her voice died in her throat as she looked up at the man that still haunted her dreams.

his eyes and face were mostly the same, but there was a hardened edge to them that wasn’t there a few years ago. his body and shoulders were much larger as well, and he pretty much overwhelmed her frame.

“hey cheerleader.”

she swallowed. “hi, noah.”

his hand lingered even as she righted herself and cleared her throat nervously.

“good luck—”

“it’s good to—”

they chuckled, tension broken for the moment as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“harris, let’s go!”

noah shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back. “maybe we could catch up after the game, if you want to.”

her eyes brightened. “i’d love to.”

they didn’t get the chance. the world seemed to move in slow motion when emma saw noah go down in the pocket from a particularly bad tackle. he had to be carried off the field in a stretcher and it was all she could do to keep from running onto the field.

they had broken up so he could focus on his career. she hoped it wasn’t in vain.

best game

two years later

emma crouched low to the ground with her long-range camera, snapping pictures of the huddle. there was less than twenty seconds left in the game – just enough, if barely, time for one last play. they needed a touchdown. and she could feel the nervous energy in her body thrumming in time with that of the crowd.

when noah went down with that horrific injury a couple years ago, most people wrote him off and didn’t think he’d play again. and if he somehow managed to recover? they all just said he probably wouldn’t be the same. a collarbone injury was usually a career death sentence for quarterbacks.

but the media, press, and so-called sportscasters didn’t know noah like she did. how strong a fighter he was. how he picked himself back up after every setback and pushed onward.

this time, she was with him every step of the way.

that didn’t mean he had an easy go of it.

he had to get surgery and go through months of intense physical therapy to get his shoulder feeling back to normal. then he had rehab for football to try to get back into form. and there was always doubt as to whether he’d be as good as before.

the season hadn’t gone smoothly. they scraped and clawed their way to the playoffs, with opposing teams taking advantage of noah’s occasional hesitance in the pocket and conservative throwing by pressuring his position. but somehow, they pulled through.

sportscasters all over would remark about how something seemed to just “click” back into place for noah harris.

only noah and emma knew what that something was.

a few weeks earlier

“are you nervous?”

noah hummed thoughtfully as his hand trailed up and down emma’s shoulder.

“surprisingly, no,” he said after a moment. “win or lose, i have everything i’ve ever wanted right here in my arms.”

emma chuckled. “when did you become such a romantic?”

“you know you bring it out of me.”

he turned on his side so he could nuzzle his nose in her hair. “you’re it for me, babe.”

“me too, noah. i mean it. if you’ll have me forever, i want that with you.”

noah pulled back to look at her. “for real?”

she nodded.

of course, emma couldn’t say with confidence that their conversation made that big of a difference, but noah’s performance every game afterward seemed to be nothing short of miraculous. by all means, his shoulder should still be giving him trouble, but the way he was throwing today in the championship game would make anyone wonder if he had been injured at all.

but this was it. everything was riding on this last play.

they were down by three points and too far for a field goal. a touchdown would end the game and clinch the championship. the team wasn’t known for playing it safe, not with noah and his arm at the helm.

emma was glued to her camera lens and clicking away, but she was barely focused on the shots. she just hoped the footage was positioned correctly and usable. she heard noah call out the play and quickly scanned the field as players moved into position.

a hail mary.

it really was going to come down to these last few seconds.

she saw the wide receiver break through the line and speed down the field, turning back to where noah had stepped back, arm poised to throw. on instinct, emma moved her camera up and snapped the shutter, capturing the exact moment noah released the ball, right before he was tackled to the ground.

and then everything seemed to move in slow motion.

she swung the camera to the left, finding the receiver in the end zone with his arms outstretched. he jumped up and the ball came arcing directly into his arms and the stadium roared with such an intensity she thought she was going deaf.

emma quickly put away her camera and left her bag with her assistant before running on to the confetti-strewn field, weaving around reports, players, and staff.

she knew noah got tackled. she needed to see that he was okay.

despite the reporters surrounding him, she squeezed her way through and wrapped her arms around him.

“i’m so glad you’re okay,” she yelled over the stadium noise. “i knew you could do it.”

noah smiled and removed her hands from his neck. she frowned in confusion as he took a step back and dropped to one knee.

“what are you doing?”

he was holding out a ring box in his hand and she had no clue how that got there. did a trainer or someone sneak that over to him?

it didn’t matter. it didn’t matter that they were surrounded by tens of thousands of screaming fans or that this moment was likely being broadcasted live by the sheer number of cameras around them. it didn’t matter that his friends and teammates were all hollering and creating a protective circle around them.

all she could see was the love of her life looking up at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“the championship ring we just won today is nothing compared to what this ring means right here,” he said, opening the box to reveal a very sizable diamond.

“marry me, em?”

emma squealed, not caring that it made her look like an excited teenager.

“of course, i’ll marry you!”

noah carefully placed the ring on her finger before wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up. he swung her around before placing her carefully back on the ground, bringing her in for a deep kiss.

“i love you,” he whispered against her lips.

“i love you too, noah,” she whispered back as they held hands and headed off the field.

* * * * * taglist: @choicesficwriterscreations; @khoicesbyk; @nyastarlight; @chetachisblog; @robintora; @shows-simp-card; @brycesgirl;

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

O’ Captain, My Captain

Thanks to the Old Me music video, I unearthed this old fic. Here is Football!Calum. With a hint of Artist!Calum.

Calum took his chance. To be selfish. To have both things. Football and Art.

if you like what I write and post, consider supporting me on ko-fi. It helps me save up for graduate fees!

_________________________________________

The grass feels different beneath his sneakers. He’s already walked with the team to put the equipment up. The coaches have already clapped him on the back, smiled at him, told him that he made his team proud. Though most importantly, they had hoped he had done himself proud. His mom and dad have already wrapped him in hugs, grins plastered to their faces. They’ve already taken him out to dinner, stuffed him with the fanciest thing on the menu. He’s already cheered in the locker room. His voice is still a little hoarse. Three championship games in a row under his belt. This game, that took place less than three hours ago, was his last hurrah. His freshman and sophomore year weren’t total defeats. They made it to the finals, but didn’t quite make it all the way. And now with junior, senior, and this first year as a postdoc have felt like fever dreams.

It’s amazing to go out on such a high note. He can’t help but smile at the thought, the adrenaline that fueled him as he drove the ball downfield with just seconds left. They were up by one goal. It’s not like they needed another one. Calum was greedy for it. No, he was starving for it. It was the fire in his bones that kept him running down that field. The goalie, normally pretty good at reading fakes, took the bait as Calum juked left a little. He dove a second too early, clearing the right side of the goal and Calum watched the ball sail before hitting the back of the net. Time did not exist. He wasn’t breathing. Just watching the ball, praying it didn’t hit the beam.

Folding his arms behind his head, he stretches out onto the grass. It’s cool even beneath the hoodie. He’s had some good memories on this field. The summer before he started his undergraduate career, he conditioned with them. He was picked up by his team at his secondary school. He could’ve gone pro. School was never supposed to be his thing. It never was his thing if he was honest. He was bored one day in school and decided to crash one of the art classes, skipping the ever so important free block built into his schedule so he could study and work on homework that was coming up or forgotten until the last minute. The teacher knew him fairly well and he wouldn’t rat him out. They broke out another sketchbook and some pencils. “If you’re going to avoid the other schoolwork, just doodle. I’ll give ya extra credit.”

So Calum figured what the harm, besides a potentially insurmountable stack of after school detentions. He could skip class, fuck about in a sketchbook and get some extra credit. He was all for it. But he found himself skipping his other classes more often. He wasn’t terrible at drawing. He definitely wasn’t great. It was just something he wanted to get better at. He came by the art hall after class and sat, sketching the lockers lining the walls. He sketched classrooms. He was getting good and he was enjoying it. The next year he made sure he was taking art classes. Calum never thought he’d give a shit about school, but he gave a shit about art. While he cared for art, he never saw it as viable. Football was his only option.

“You thought about uni?” His teacher asked right at the end of Year 11.

“Not much. School’s not my thing.”

“But art is.”

“So is football,” Calum countered.

“Aren’t some schools looking to give you a scholarship?”

Calum looked up from the sketchbook, back out the window to the benches for lunch when the weather permitted. “Yeah, some in the States. A couple in the UK, a few local schools. But I can’t. You know, football’s my thing.”

His teacher sat down next to him, gently sliding the book out from Calum’s hand. He already knows what’s on the inside but flips through the pages gingerly. The football field, his friends, his parents and sister, scenes of everyday life. The way Calum captured light was amazing, and normally took years to get just right. It was so easy to see the sort of knack Calum had for it. “What if both could be your thing?”

It wasn’t as easy as just having both things. He needed to keep his grades up in order to play at a university. He had to give a shit and it was quickly showing in his first years that he wasn’t. He was nearly dropped from the team for his grades. The general education requirements were ridiculous and all he wanted to do was run on the field and draw not the other bullshit between. But a chat with his mother changed all that. She was never unfair but always firm. He went to the tutoring center. He got off academic probation. He kept his head above water and pushed through the general education stuff.

Now here he is, going into his second year of graduate studies for studio art. Here he is, at the end of his football eligibility. Here he is laying in the middle of the field.

He can still hear the roar of the crowd. The sidelines are still packed with people. His body is sore no doubt. Even the cool down stretch can’t take all the pain away. When he goes to sit up, he’s definitely going to feel it in his quads. Right now in his memory, he is still dribbling downfield. He is still sweating, panting, praying he can get that final goal. Right now he is the little boy in his parent’s backyard, grinning ear to ear as his mother takes a picture before his first game. He is twelve again, running drills after practice until his legs felt like they would collapse beneath him. The only thing that matters right now is the echo of his heart thundering in his chest. He will always miss this feeling, everything on the line. Blood, sweat, and pain all pushing him to keep his eyes open, pushing him to be two steps ahead.

“Hey!” Calum hears the shouting but thinks nothing of it. “Hey!” the voice calls again. It’s closer to him now. The sounds of running over grass hitting his ears. He’s all too familiar with the sound. “You’re Calum, right? Calum Hood?”

He opens his eyes, squinting up to the voice. He sits up with a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” The girl’s dressed in a leotard and leggings, duffle bag hiked up onto her shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say congrats on the win. My brother’s on the team.” Now as the sun clears and he can see her face a bit more properly, she does resemble Hawkins. Sophomore. Good guy, pretty kick-ass center fullback.

“He never mentioned having a sister.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly cool to go to the same uni as your sibling. But I got picked for academics and he got in on football.”

“Looks like you play something? Maybe the dance team?” he questions, gesturing to the bag.

She nods. “Yeah, sort of.”

“Sort of? Either you dance or you don’t,” he laughs.

“I do, dance I mean. I also do baton twirling. But didn’t mean to interrupt your moment too much. Just wanted to say congrats. I’ll miss you on the field.”

Calum nods, hugging his knees to his chest. He glances over the opened field. “I’m going to miss it too.”

“It’ll always be here though. In a way, you know?” He hums in agreement with her statement. It will be. Just won’t be quite the same. “We’ll be practicing at the other end of the field. But if it’s too loud or anything, don’t be afraid to shout at us or anything.”

He smiles. “We are outdoors. Only so much I can really complain about it.”

She grins, a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “Touche.” She takes another step. “Well, congrats again, if I don’t see you at the party later.”

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

Calum watches her cross the field for a few seconds longer and continues to sit, knees to his chest. His legs are still sore. They will be for a couple more days. He’s alright with that. Calum reaches into his bag, pulling out his sketchbook and pencils. He tries to capture the scene from memory, the packed crowd, the anticipation, the desire. His chest squeezes and his grip on his pencil slacks.

The sting behind his eyes confirms the tightness of his chest. He brings his gaze back up to the slightly clouded sky, blurry due to the tears. He’s won. He actually won and he’s leaving. The end is sweeter than he imagined. It’s bitter too, to know that he won’t ever step back into his jersey. But it’s somehow sweeter. To know that his legacy will leave on, for at least one more year as he finishes out his degree in studio art. It’s sweeter to end like this. To end on top, to end knowing that he followed a path that allowed him to chase both loves.

_________________________________

The house is loud, even from the end of the block. It’s a good thing that the football house is situated pretty close to the rest of the frat houses, or else issues would ensue. Calum’s sure something is up as he closes in on the house. The ruckus isn’t from the football house, it’s from the house next to it. He’s unsure if he should try the door. The lights are on, maybe he’s early. The text he got told him nine. He’s only a few minutes late. Public transit was a little late getting him from the stop near his apartment, which isn’t terrible.

The door’s locked. So he knocks, stuffing his hands back into the pocket of his jacket. When it opens, he’s greeted with cheers, slaps to the shoulder. “The man of the hour!”

“Nah, nah,” Calum smiles, slipping out of his coat. He drapes it over the pile forming in the corner, over the back of one of the chairs. He turns to the kitchen. There’s a fixing for just a beer hitting him. He freezes though, staring at his coaches. “Coach Ball, Coach Hobbs, what’re--what’s happening here?”

They grin at him. Coach Hobbs steps forward. “We know. It’s not cool of us to crash a party like this. But, we figured you might want to know this before ya get sloshed.”

Coach Ball steps in. “We can’t extend your contract. Shite we know. But what we can do, is make sure you always keep a part of us with ya.” He extends a white box with a red bow wrapped around it.

The air’s not even pressing itself into his lungs it feels. Calum’s hands shake a little as he takes the box, pulling on the mesh bow. Pulling the top off, there sits a white jersey, decorated in his number, 11, staring back at him in green. The school’s name and logo also printed onto it. He pulls it out of the box, tears still slightly blurring his vision. As he turns it over, he notices his name also written across the back. He’s normally got a crier. Not that he’s crying right now, it’s just a few tears. It’s not like they can retire his number. But the ability to still hold onto it, the memories make him happy. The fact that he can still hold onto this.

“Thank you,” he whispers, putting the jersey back. He pulls both of them into hugs. His lungs can now fully expand as his coaches pat him on the shoulder, whispered praises falling gently between the three of them. Both coaches leave after that, but not before taking a beer each with them. The room chants for Calum to don the new jersey. He sheds the black tee, draping the white material over his body. A can is passed to each of them.

“This round’s for Captain Hood,” Trundle shouts. He’s taking over as captain now. “He always sailed this ship to success.”

The words catch in his throat. “It-it wasn’t me. It was the team. You guys sailed yourselves.” There are another round of cheers, cans clinking together and the first seem is bitter as always but Calum gets choked as his throat seizes attempting to not let any more tears fall down his cheeks.

The party continues, the music thumping throughout the house. Less dancing but more mingling is the call for socialization. The same girl from early comes up to him, leggings traded in for distressed jeans and a lacey cropped top. “Drink looks a little low,” she grins at him, before holding out another can.

He has no clue if she’s younger than Hawkins or not, so he politely declines the drink. “Thanks though. Gonna drink up on some water right now.” She nods and then shimmies through the crowd.

When the party dies down, around one in the morning, Calum lingers around to help clean up some before his ride pulls up. The driver is nice, keeps conversation pretty short during the five-minute drive. As he walks back into his apartment, the first of his roommates to arrive from their nights of mischief, he settles onto the couch. He unzips himself out of his boots, pulling the jacket off his shoulders. He inspects the jersey, thankfully no spills, no stains. He pulls it off, walks to his room and drapes it over the back of his chair at his desk. He’s unsure of whether or not to frame it. Though, his brain is completely sober right now to even consider that. He shimmies out of the jeans and lies across his bed, sleep finding him fast.

His alarm blares, the next morning. He groans, partially cursing himself for leaving it set. But he knows he needs it. Even though his shift is later in the evening, he’s still got a paper to finish up and his portfolio to clean up. It sucks to have to worry now about tuition, his scholarship covered him for all his years as a player, but now, with one last year and no more sports eligibility, him and his parents are figuring out the best way to cover the costs.

Calum sits up, the jersey staring back at him. It’s real. He didn’t really dream up the coaches handing him that jersey. He didn’t conjure it up in his subconscious as his own selfish desire to never part from it. That jersey is real and his, his number with him forever. It continues to hit him that his time is up during the week. More and more people stop him in the hallways, on the paths that lead to buildings, in the library, in the cafeteria to congratulate him. The older ladies serving him, heap his plates with extras, smile at him in the way that only older ladies can that make you feel fuzzy on the inside.

He settles down at the benches in front of the library and works on sketching the fountain. He’s been working on it for his final portfolio for a long time. He watches some kids, kicking a football around. His chest warms as they laugh amongst themselves. He decides to put them into the drawing too. He wishes he could capture their laughter, the way they grin at each other and shout at what should be a foul. He wishes he could capture the smiles on their parents' faces as they watch their children. Glancing down to his watch, he notes that his whole break is just about up, so he packs up his things and starts towards the art building.

In his brief walk, he realizes he could’ve chosen pro. That would’ve worked out for him. But he wouldn’t have these opportunities to still feel human, to chase for that rush of getting the lighting just right in a drawing, in the huge release when his brush hits that canvas. Art is the same need to emote like on the field. It’s just on canvas this time. He could have both things and he’s glad he got them.

#calum hood #calum hood fic #calum hood fanfic #football!calum #calum 5sos #calum hood imagine #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #h writes #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer imagine #artist!calum

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untilweyeetagain · 4 years

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SHE-RA WEEK DAY 6 - love/destiny

Pairing: Catra/Adora

Summary: Adora has always dreamed of meeting her soulmate, and she can't help but hope that it's the girl she's been admiring from afar for years. Written for day 6 of she-ra week: love/destiny

Word Count: 1988

Warnings: None

Ever since she was little, Adora had been excited to meet her soulmate. She’d grown up hearing the stories - how humans used to have four legs and four arms before Zeus chopped them in half, leaving them only a small hint on their forearm as to who their other half was.

Humans found their soulmates more often than not, but you would still hear sad stories about people who died without finding their soulmate. Adora knew that she was still young, being in her senior year of high school, but she had always imagined meeting her soulmate when she was young, the perfect story of highschool sweethearts that found each other and then spent their entire lives with each other. The closer she got to the end of the year, the more she began to realize how unlikely this fantasy-ending was, and she became disheartened, beginning to lose hope of finding her soulmate.

She had dated other people, sure, but they had never lasted long - people didn’t often like to commit to long-term relationships with people other than their soulmate, to spare each other the pain in case they found their soulmate while in a relationship. Adora was always envious of those who found their other half though because she wanted that same happiness, the feeling of your soul being complete.

The end of the school year was fast approaching, which meant that Adora was much too busy to contemplate her lack of a soulmate often. She had final exams to prepare for, a prom date and dress to find, as well as the final track and field competition of her high school career. Her days were filled with practice, classes and studying, which meant her schedule was hectic, and the only respite she found was admiring the quarterback of the football team whenever she saw her in the corridor or on her way to track practice.

She had never even spoken to the girl, but she was smitten. She had daydreamed for hours about the girl coming up to her, saying her words: “Hey, Adora. Whatcha doing out here all alone?” Bow and Glimmer often complained about how she would talk about the brunette for hours on end, but Adora couldn’t help it. The girl was the human embodiment of tall, dark and handsome - she drew Adora in like a moth to a flame, and the blonde couldn’t even find it in herself to care.

Adora only knew her name from talk around school whenever the football team won a game that Catra had played spectacularly in. They were in none of the same classes, but they had the same lunch period, so Adora would spend her time staring at the girl from across the lunch hall until Mermista (her only friend who had lunch with her) got sick of it and drew her into a conversation. Despite Mermista’s efforts though, she still found herself getting distracted more often than not daydreaming about the girl she was still too shy to approach.

---

Catra had it bad, she already knew that. She was helpless to stop the way her eyes were drawn to the cute blonde girl she saw in the halls on her way between classes, and she knew it was pathetic that she had yet to muster up the courage to talk to her. Catra knew that she could have pretty much whoever she wanted - she was pretty, smart and popular, and on top of that, she was the star football player. She wasn’t unaware of the whispers that went around about her, nor was she in the dark about the fact that a good proportion of the student body had a crush on her.

She knew all this, and yet this girl was different, somehow. Catra had had more girlfriends and boyfriends than she could count on her hands, and she was smooth and her flirting skills were impeccable, thank you - but she still couldn’t make herself talk to this girl.

Adora - she knew her name only thanks to their mutual friend Entrapta - was, for lack of a better word, adorable. She had her hair up in the same ponytail every day, and she always wore the same tattered red jacket to school. She knew that Adora liked her - the blush that overcame her face and the way she would hastily avert her gaze whenever Catra saw her was a dead giveaway, and Catra thought that nothing could ever be cuter than that.

Catra wished that she had the courage to just go up to her and talk to her, flirt with her, just grab her and kiss her - she didn’t care what it was she would do, she just wished she could do it. But Adora was different. Catra didn’t want to be as naive as to think it, but she hoped, deep down, that that was because she was her soulmate. That Adora would say those words that were etched upon the skin of her forearm: “Um. Hi, hello, hi. Uh, I was, um, running.”

She had thought about the concept a lot, in the few quiet, private moments in which she allowed herself to dream. Perhaps that was why she was so afraid to just go and talk to the girl - the second they said anything to each other, whether they were or weren’t soulmates would be revealed, and Catra didn’t think she could handle it if they weren’t.

---

Panting heavily, Adora finished her final lap of the track and immediately jogged over to the benches, where her towel and water lay ready for her. As much as she liked track practice with the other runners, she found training in solitude to be quite a calming experience - she didn’t have to worry about anyone judging her, she could just focus on the track in front of her and keeping her breathing steady.

The intense summer sun beat down on the blonde as she grabbed her water bottle and poured half the contents over her head and the other half down her throat. She flopped to the ground for a brief few seconds before getting back up and beginning to stretch her legs off, lest she feels the pain tomorrow.

She’s still in a world of her own, mind far away from the present, when someone else makes themself known. Adora jumps when Catra places her hand on her arm, having been very unaware of her surroundings, lost in the peace that running brings her. The brunette clears her throat, and it occurs to Adora, in the back of her mind, that these will be the first words she has ever said to her before.

Unknown to Adora, Catra was feeling the same fear and anticipation, but she pushed through it. “Hey, Adora. Whatcha doing out here all alone?”

The blonde’s breath hitched noticeably, and hope flared through Catra’s veins at the implication that Adora recognised the words.

“Um. Hi, hello, hi. Uh, I was, um, running.” The blonde stuttered, clearly in shock still, but Catra’s heart soared as she heard the words she had known since before she even knew what they meant.

Both girls stood there in silence for a few minutes, processing the information now available to them. Adora’s mind was swirling, thoughts flying everywhere, but the most prominent one was that oh my gosh, Catra is my soulmate... Catra is my soulmate! She was excited, relieved and incredibly nervous all at once - this had been everything she had wanted for years, and the fact that it was the girl who had captured her attention for longer than she would willingly admit made it a thousand times better, but also a thousand times scarier - she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she managed to mess this up.

Before she could get too bogged down in those thoughts, she found herself being pulled into a warm embrace, Catra’s nimble fingers winding their way into her sweaty hair, but the other girl didn’t seem to care about that, nor about the fact that she most definitely smelled of nothing but sweat and dirt. The shorter girl, sighed, leaning into the hug and tucking her head under the brunette’s chin, nuzzling slightly at her neck. How many times had she dreamed of this, of being held close by her soulmate, her Catra?

It seemed that Catra’s thoughts were similar because she soon pulled away - only a short distance, but enough that Adora missed the warmth of Catra’s body - to whisper “I can’t believe that it’s you - I never allowed myself to imagine, but it’s you.” Her voice sounded reverent, and it sent tremors running through Adora’s limbs, warming her in a way nothing else could.

“I… I had always hoped, always dreamed that it’d be you, but this feels… surreal, in a way. Is this real? Are you real?” Adora said, praying to any deity out there that this wasn’t some dream or hallucination, that Catra was here, with her, standing on the edge of the athletics track as a soft summer breeze ran through their hair.

“I’m here, Adora, I assure you this is real. I can prove it to you, if you’d like?” Her voice trailed off towards the end, nerves catching her in a way they never had before. She was normally smooth and suave, making girls and guys alike swoon - she had never felt the need to hesitate with her flirtation, but something about Adora made her want to approach things differently.

Catra was pulled from her thoughts by Adora’s small whisper of “Yes.” She was filled with newfound confidence then, and she dragged Adora impossibly closer as her lips descended upon the soft pair she had only before experienced in her dreams. Adora moaned, quiet and soft, and that small sound was enough for Catra to lose control, the kiss turning from gentle and caring to passionate in an instant as a wave of possessiveness washed over the taller girl.

The pair broke the kiss only when they desperately needed air, but they stayed pressed close, chests heaving as their lungs tried to regain the oxygen they had been denied. The space between them, small though it was, seemed too much and not enough, both girls wanting to resume their frantic kisses but also wanting to talk about this too.

In the end, the second option won, and Adora found herself pulling away further, but still not leaving Catra’s arms. “Why did you come out here? I didn’t think the team had practice today.” The question had been floating around her subconscious, and now that she was slightly more clear-headed, she voiced it.

“I, uh, I asked your friends where you’d be, and they said you’d most likely be here.” It could’ve been her imagination, but to Adora, Catra sounded almost… sheepish. It was so un-Catra that it almost threw her off, but it didn’t stop her next question.

“You were looking for me? Why?” She could honestly not think of a single reason for the other girl to have been looking for her after school.

“I wanted to…” she trailed off, glancing nervously to the ground before making eye-contact with Adora again. “I wanted to ask you out. On a date. With me. Um, yeah.” To see the usually so confident Catra turned into the nervous, hesitant girl who stood before her was honestly quite endearing.

“Well, Catra, you still can.” Woah, it was like they had done a complete personality swap, Adora thought. She had never been that forward before, always being the blushing girl who shyly waited for others to start anything.

“Adora, my soulmate, my other half, would you go on a date with me and be my girlfriend?” Catra asked.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Adora grinned, leaning into Catra’s space again to capture her lips in another searing kiss, feeling the other girl smiling happily into the kiss as well.

#catradora #SheRaWeek #spop #she-ra #catra #adora #glimmer #bow #mermista #the last three are just mentioned #soulmate au #modern au #highschool au

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buckybabybaby · 5 years

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Mr Hollywood (Chapter 1)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it. But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

A/n: I started writing this in September 2017 so it's long over due being posted. I've only written one series so far, and that was nearly two years ago so I may be out of practice, but this is a story that’s been floating around in my head for years so... I really hope people like it! I think I'll aim to post every weekend, and by putting this out today I'm hoping I force myself to write more.

Proof read by way of a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1959

Warnings: None for now!

Mr Hollywood Masterlist

Main Masterlist.

*****

Mr Barnes, of Wild Fields Primary School, looks exactly like one of those teachers that pop up in viral tweets because they are just too attractive not to be shared with the world, but as a Year One teaching assistant, the children he helps are far too young to be affected by his appearance. But then there are their parents.

You have spent many a school play, summer fête, and open evening watching them watching him, and wondering how it is that he appears so calm in the face of such obvious flirting. The effort some of the single mums and dads, as well as a few of the very married ones, make with their appearances when they think he might be at an event is laughable.

Or at least it would be funny if it wasn't so embarrassing.

Bucky first arrived four years ago, and as an American in a sleepy English village, he had caused quite the stir. During the first few weeks his every move was watched by the residents like a new exhibit at the zoo, and that was partly how you had become friends, after feeling the need to defend him against one particularly rude busybody who made a comment about his suitability to teach at the school.

The grateful smile he sent your way melted your heart and the two of you have be inseparable ever since.

Now, with three weeks to go until the summer holidays there's a buzz around the school, but this Monday afternoon your class have been remarkably calm, flipping through their books during 'reading time' in near silence as you sit at your desk trying not to bite your nails. The second hand on the clock at the front of the schoolroom appears to be slowing down the longer you stare at it, but you can't concentrate on your lesson planning when you don't know what is wrong with Bucky.

He's been weird all day and you need to find out why. Playground duty at mid-morning break meant you hadn't had a chance to speak to him then, and he wasn't anywhere obvious at lunch, so you've had to just watch through the small window separating your classroom with the one he was working in today as he pulled at his hair harder than usual. Even without confronting him you can tell something is up, and you hope to catch him before he leaves at the end of the day.

The last bell finally rings, and you usher your pupils out as quick as you can without looking desperate, excusing them from putting their chairs tidy under their desks because you can see Bucky doing the same. You don't like the idea of him going home in the state he seems to be in without talking to someone.

When the last stragglers eventually wish you farewell you hurry out too and walk briskly along the corridor to the other Year One classroom, dimly aware there may be other children still inside who you don't want to break the 'no running' rule in front of. As the lights are switched off you assume the room is deserted, so you're about to rush off to the staff room in the hope of intercepting him when a shadow near the window catches your eye.

Opening the door, you slip in quietly. “Bucky?” He doesn't move, only making a noise in response, a low hum that does nothing to reassure you. “Are you okay?”

That question seems to shake him out of his haze. He tilts his head to look back at you, then nods towards the table he's sitting on, a silent invitation to join him. You do, searching his face for an answer when he turns towards you.

“I feel sick.”

Okay, so he's ill. That makes sense, as you know how hard it is to try and work when you're not feeling one hundred per cent, and he does look pale.

“Do you want me to take you home? I can make you some soup if-”

“Not that sort of sick,” He interrupts. “Nervous sick.”

“Oh.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“It's a secret.”

“Okay?”

“I, er,” He takes a deep breath. “You know that teaching, or assisting at teaching, wasn't ever something I really wanted to do. I just fell in to it, sort of. But it's not that I don't enjoy it! I love it, most days, and sometimes I think I could do this for the rest of my life and be okay with it. It's just that it is always going to feel like a substitute for what I really want to do, and... I'm not explaining my self very well am I?”

You shake your head with a small laugh. “You are rambling a bit, are you sure you're not ill?”

“Nah, I'm just a bit dazed. I got a call back. A big one.”

Your eyebrows raise as he says that. A call back? You were aware that with his degree in theatre he always wanted to pursue work in TV or film, but when his twin brother was transferred over to a specialist rehabilitation hospital in the UK, he had to abandon that dream and move here to care for him.

As soon as Dayton had recovered he encouraged him to get back to what he loved, and from going to open auditions Bucky had landed a few roles in adverts, mainly for the radio, but he's been very quiet on that front recently.

You haven't said anything, still trying to understand how he managed to keep this from you. “Here, this might help explain.” He hands you his phone, open on an email which you scan quickly. And again. Then once more, taking time to read every word carefully and process the potentially life changing information it contained.

You look back at him, mirroring his wide-eyed expression. “Stark? Stark Pictures?” He nods. “And they need to see you again? When did you go before, what is this?”

“Last weekend when I went to London.” He swallows. “It's not a commercial this time.”

“I can see that. Gosh Bucky, does this say what I think it does?” You don't give him a chance to reply before you bombard him with more questions, “What TV show is it? Who would you play? It says here it's a screen test for chemistry, so it's more than just a simple call back isn't it? Bucky, why didn't you tell me any of this?”

“I didn't think anything would come of it,” He says, staring out of the window and choosing not to answer your other queries. “And it doesn't matter anyway 'cos I'm not going.”

“What?” You whip around to face him, astonished. “What do you mean you're not going?”

“Look at where it is Y/N,” He whispers. “I can't afford flights back to America, especially at the moment.”

Silence follows as you think about the frankly pathetic wage an assistant teacher gets. With his rent, bills and the train fare to visit his brothers new home he was basically living pay check to pay check.

“Can't they pay for you?” You say eventually.

“I don't want to ask.”

You sigh, knowing how proud Bucky can be, how he'd rather struggle than ask for help. He's been like that his entire life, according to Dayton, and you can almost hear his exasperated voice scolding him. For Dayton's sanity, and for the sake of Bucky's future, you do the only thing you can.

Hopping off the table and pulling out your own phone you hold it up against his. “Okay, so you need to be there for the afternoon of the seventh. Which means,” You pause to scroll down the website, “With time differences...”

Bucky approaches you slowly, eyeing your phone. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Booking your flights. Hope you don't mind economy?” Ignoring his squeak of protest, you dodge out of his reach as you continue to type. “You won't need any hold luggage will you?”

“Y/N, please, stop,” He tries again, succeeding in grabbing your phone this time but you snatch it back just as quick, walking backwards away from him as he whines. “I can't ask you too do this.”

“You didn't ask, I'm offering. Now what's your passport number?”

“Y/N, I'm not going to let you do this.”

Stopping in front of him you meet his eye, silently daring him to refuse. “No best friend of mine is going to miss a screen test at Stark Pictures, when the role is yours in everything but name. Not over a few hundred measly pounds. Okay? Passport number.”

Realising you've adopted your 'teacher voice' to reason with him, you clear your throat, not wanting him to feel belittled. You know it must be hard for him to accept help. He's still standing there looking pained, so you try one last time. “Please Bucky, this is your dream, don't let your pride get in the way. Plus, you'll be able to pay me back ten times in a month.”

That last part seems to work. His frown disappears and he pulls you into his arms while you're still typing, crushed against his chest as he laughs through tears.

“Twenty times,” He promises into your hair, and you completely believe he would.

****

Bucky's flight home landed half an hour ago but there's still no sign of him. The couple of days before he left on Friday flew by, then the weekend seemed to drag as you awaited his return, and now you can't sit still as you stare down Heathrow's arrivals gate, wondering if you should have made him a 'welcome back!' sign like the family next to you.

He doesn't actually know you're here to meet him, and you're hoping he hasn't managed to slip past you in the crowds as the announcement warning against leaving baggage unattended plays for the umpteenth time.

A group of university students sporting Dodgers caps pass by and you stand in anticipation. On spotting Bucky walking through the doors you begin to move in his direction, shouting at him across the hall louder than you intended, but the attention of others doesn't bother you as his tired smile morphs in to a full grin in realisation. You speed up your pace to close the distance between the two of you until he's dropping his holdall, reaching out for you and lifting you off your feet to spin you around.

“You didn't say you were coming!” His excitement is for more than your surprise presence, you can tell, and that's almost enough evidence of how this trip went. Before he'd gone out, one of the producers had emailed him to say they were okay with him working his notice and staying until the summer holidays started, and from that you had interpreted that they were pretty certain he was going to be the one they cast, but you still need to hear him say it.

“Never mind that,” You pull away to watch his face. “Well? Did you get it?”

“No, sweetheart, I'm this happy because I didn't.”

You roll your eyes as he smirks at you, but you know what he is actually saying and he holds you tighter as you offer your congratulations, so pleased for him you could burst.

He sets you down and you smooth out his jumper, beaming up at him. “Come on then Mr Hollywood, two more weeks of term, better make them count.”

Bucky laughs at that and lets you lead him towards the train station to go home, or at least home for the next few weeks, until he starts his new life in Los Angeles and everything changes.

*****

Chapter 2

#bucky barnes x reader #buckybabybaby #Mr Hollywood #bucky imagine

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mirroredfaces · 5 years

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To Toptal Reader(s) and other visionaries...

Part I: Drives and Dreams

On 22 May 2019, I will graduate from Barnard College of Columbia University with a Bachelor’s of Arts in Anthropology and concentration in Archaeology. Through diverse coursework at “Barnumbia,” I have developed an immense appreciation for the entanglements of working with the dead... not to mention their many material remnants.

While the archaeological questions we can explore are limitless, I am most captivated by the mysteries of the Middle to Upper Paleolithic transition in Western Eurasia. Within this diverse field, I am most drawn to the amorphic figures we call “Neandertals” and to questions of their coexistence with modern human populations. Alongside the timeless and noble savage, the figure of the caveman is crystallized in our consciousness in childhood; nevertheless, I am shocked by narratives of our maligned “cousins” as brute quasi-humans, predestined for a swift demise at the onslaught of “modernity”.

Neandertals have gone by many names. Our image of them continues to mutate in academia as well as popular culture, but what does current archaeological evidence indicate of their livelihood? of their treatment in death? How can archaeological findings speak to their figurings of the cosmos? to their ontologies? What of their contemporaneity with modern human populations? What of art? At a more metaphysical level, how do our epistemologies influence our interpretations? How do media interact to craft particular (pre)historic narratives? How should we convey archaeological findings to a wider public, with a semblance of disciplinary accord, nuance and authenticity?

These questions are far from simple. This fall, I will develop the intellectual frameworks and practical skills through which I explore such questions through a Masters of Science in Archaeological Science at the University of Oxford. After receiving this degree, I hope to apply my newfound skills in chronometry, biomolecular studies, and materials analysis in doctoral work on the Middle and Upper Paleolithic of Eurasia. At a theoretical level, I will continue to grapple with concepts of personhood, gender, sexuality, marginality and symbolism.

Though the prospects of a tenured university professorship appear slim, I see my future in academic archaeology. Nevertheless, I will descend the ivory tower to spark and engage in wider public discourse on our shared human history. As I am enthralled by visual portrayals of Neandertals, I will also pursue work in paleoart (e.g. sculptural dermoplasty, experimental reconstruction). One day, I aspire to write a re-imagined Clan of the Cave Bear series (à la Jean Auel), grounded in current archaeological research. While these goals are admittedly idealistic, their realization starts with feet on the ground, an open mind, and a willing attitude. Financial security is also an important ingredient for success, and as a first generation American dependent on a single mother, a Toptal Scholarship would greatly aid this cause.

Beings of the deep past dwell in alterity, in the shadows of our evolutionary tree and the fringe of cultural consciousness. In an era of increasing nationalism, xenophobia, racism and sexism, inclusive archaeologies offer the potential to reflect our shared origins and inspire a more tolerant present. Neandertals are a maligned population construed as an evolutionary dead end or scapegoat for genetic inheritances; but rather than indulge satire of the caveman, or the far more malicious trope of indigenous savagery, why not explore their sophisticated survivorship and contributions to humanity and the earth? Why not try to learn from inter-(sub)species interactions?

I see a future where human superiority is destabilized; where people respect one another, no matter their nationality or religion or gender; where we care for our selves and our planet. While archaeology is an unconventional lens to enact this future, it is the discipline that inspires me each and every day. If I can share the inspiration I draw from the deep past with others, and mobilize a more tolerant and inclusive present, I will change the world one mind at a time. I would be inexpressibly grateful to Toptal for mentorship in accessing non-academic publics and increasing the visibility of my work-- be it literary, scientific, or artistic. Archaeology is a discipline reliant on networks, and unfortunately mine are slim.

At Barnard, I have learned to empower and be empowered by bold women. As I enter a discipline dominated by white men, I will emanate the strength I have built here wherever I go. With support from the Toptal Scholarship, I can travel to Oxford unburdened by fears of ever-increasing financial debt. I can ease the financial strain placed on my mother from my undergraduate education, and launch my own path of independence. It is time to begin my professional career as an empowered female archaeologist. In this constellation of drives and dreams, I am ready to take the next step - onto the stage at Columbia University’s commencement ceremony, into the School of Archaeology at Oxford, and then, well, I suppose time will tell?

Part II: Humble Roots

Education is expensive, especially abroad. I was raised terribly aware of this fact, thanks to my mother’s tales of her early life in the United States. At the ripe age of eighteen, she emigrated from Hungary to attend UC: Berkeley while learning English and painting houses to pay her way through school. She went on to obtain a PhD in Neuroscience and complete postdoctoral work at Stanford University; yet her success was painfully juxtaposed with the sorrow of her (now, late) sister. Jacinta eloped at eighteen, with a young lover turned abusive spouse. She was ultimately stuck in an abusive marriage and in their childhood home, never to travel beyond Hungary’s borders. My first view of Jacinta was her hunched back as she hobbled down the sole paved street in Alsónemesapáti, letters in hand. She worked for the town’s postal service, delivering mail on foot.

I am humbled by my family’s roots, not to mention the courage of my mother—who not only fled Soviet control, but also transitioned to single parenthood whilst battling cancer. As I meditate on Jacinta’s hardships and the alternate realities that could have played out in the Hungarian countryside, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my mother and for the upbringing she sought to provide us. I can never hope to repay her for her sacrifices, or for the hard choices she made to give her children lives of opportunity. I recognize my privilege, and my responsibility to use it for good. I recognize the obstacles—seen and unseen—that lurk in my path. Lastly, I recognize the impact of a Toptal Scholarship on my quest for knowledge and independence.

With a Toptal award, I can cross the ocean to join the university with the strongest archaeology department in the world. Without the stress of loans and debt, I can apply myself whole-heartedly (or rather, whole-mindedly) to my studies. I can do so in an environment of academic rigor that fosters community and originality. Unfortunately, the financial strain of my time at Barnard College continues to burden my mother and I. In fact, the anticipated pressure inspired me to apply credits earned in high school and graduate a year early. A $10,000 Toptal award could be applied directly to my future tuition, or cover my housing and living expenses during my masters.

In sum, a Toptal Scholarship would position me that much closer to academic success and financial independence, whilst releasing my mother from the title’s economic grip. She has spent far too long focusing on others to the negligence of herself. Why prolong her duress, when I can progress? It is time I journey abroad in the pursuit of higher education and the responsibilities and freedoms of adulthood—in a beautiful and ironic iteration of my mother’s own tale. With your goodwill and my steadfast commitment, these reveries can become a reality. Thank you kindly for considering my application.

#dreamit #doit

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earthlyem · 5 years

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i just recently finished up my freshman year of college at art school and so now seems like as good a time as any to talk about my experience and feelings about it and maybe lend a hand of advice if you are going into college this year, especially at an art school. because i feel like there is so much important stuff to cover im going to break into up into different parts of the process starting with…

moving

moving out was a big deal for me. growing up i never had a huge urge to move far away from home, i loved where i grew up and i loved the people…but every college that ever peaked my interest was out of state. and as early as i could process the idea of a further education i would spit out colleges i’d hope to attend every night at the dinner table. and while a young child rambling about dreams of studying in paris to be a fashion designer while eating dinosaur shaped nuggets is easy for a parent to laugh at and then file into the back of their mind, a junior in high school taking college classes for drawing and animation talking about wanting to go to an art school is a little less easy to brush off. so after getting lots love and support from my family, friends, and teachers, and the financial aid of scholarships, I ended up deciding to attend an art school several states away to study visual effects and stop motion animation.

sooner than i could have ever anticipated the time came to move out. i loved this place, it shaped everything that i was, but after some unfortunate events throughout my high school experience i began to associate my beloved home with guilt and sadness. at this point, i was incredibly thankful i had chosen to move far away. with no one from my high school attending, and it being a good 15 hour drive away from my hometown, it felt like the perfect time to start over. be someone new, someone i always strived to be. the problem with that is we can’t run from our past. something i learned all to quickly at my new school. the physical move was easy, i flew down with a couple of suitcases and purchased all my dorm and school supplies the day before I moved in, which while rather stressful, ended up working out. i went in blind, so i was terrified of meeting my roommates. i would be living with three random girls, and with us all being here to pursue careers in art, i couldn’t help but be intimidated. im sure everyone who has, or will attend an art school feels the pressure. we’re used to being of the best, if not the best in our respective fields throughout our whole lives. and piling in a ton of talented people, where now you’re unsure of where you fall is petrifying. but alas there is really no need to fear. art school is about work ethic, not talent. Its about creativity and willingness to be free, experiment, express, the performance aspect is whats taught to you. if you love what you do, your professors will be able to channel that energy and turn your art into something polished and professional. seriously, i’ve seen people come from shaky sketch outlines, to fully rendered detailed pieces over the course of the year with the right ambition. but non the less i was still scared. in hindsight i had no reason to fear, my roommate was an absolute angel and really helped me through the turbulence of my first quarter, and made the craziness of roommate drama tolerable.

the first few weeks i had expected to be this big social clusterfuck and as a social person I was really excited to meet new people. unfortunately the reality was being holdup in the dorm, seeing others hanging out with people they met over the internet, and feeling entirely alone. i felt like there were very defined cliques established in the first week and i didn’t make the cut for any of them. packs of friends, all easy to see as they were almost perfectly divided by aesthetics, would go eat at the cafe together, smoke outside the dorms, go to parties, skateboard around the buildings, go to the parks and beaches….suddenly i didn’t think the social label assigned to me in high school seemed to fit so well. thats the scariest part of moving away, you are stripped of everything you once were to anyone but yourself. all the ways you were defined by the people you grew up with are gone in the eyes of every new person you meet. its intimidating, but it can be the most beautiful thing if you let it be..this is when it really hit me that when moving anywhere, even if its with a few people you do know, you’re given this huge slate to lay down exactly who you want to be, change the way the world sees you… but thats a big task…a lot bigger than i thought. and its hard, its hard to be this great big wonderful person you feel like you are in your head when you don’t accept and embrace what brought you to that point. that guilt and anger and sadness and embarrassment was burned into me. i didn’t get to just throw it out the airplane window on my way down. it took me nearly the entire first quarter to sort through those memories, those events that ate away at me and altered my path of existence. because its not that the people i went to school with weren’t accepting people, many of us felt out of place at sometime in our life, and with that comes an deep empathy and care for others. i felt like i just couldn’t seem to put myself out there enough, or cross paths with the right people. it was towards the end that i looked up and saw the world i was building around me without even noticing. i had two wonderful roommates who listened to me and danced with me and ate with me and went to class with me, who held me up through all of it. I had amazing neighbors…just seriously the coolest people in the world. They helped me understand so much about myself and always had their door open so I didn’t have to feel alone. no one was isolating me but myself. and those cliques i mentioned, were just people, people like me who felt alone and scared, or were facing their own problems with moving and by labeling them i put up a wall, and excuse not to talk to certain people because i was insecure that i wouldn’t be artsy enough, or nerdy enough, or edgy enough… and i know that sounds cringy but i know so many people who felt exactly the same. with creative minds, comes creative ways of self expression and i guess the take away im trying to get at is that people are so much more than the aesthetic they have or the way they present on their instagram, something I think all of get lost in sometimes. my point is, moving is going to be scary for most, and even if you think you’re this huge mess that’s wearing all their feelings about the process on your sleeve… i bet no one even notices, because they are so far in their own heads feeling the exact same way. take a step back, say hi to the group of kids kicking around a soccer ball outside your building, or ask the people you sit next to in studio to grab lunch at the cafeteria, it seems scary because it looks like they already have groups and their all set they don’t need another, or your afraid it will be awkward… and well it will be. but life goes on, and a couple hard awkward minutes is worth not isolating yourself, or beating yourself up in your head for not being cool enough to fit in somewhere. you aren’t giving so many wonderful people enough credit when your write them off as though they won’t give you the time of day and it took a lot of learning and practice for me to understand that. you can hear advice, and agree with it, and even tell yourself you’ll implement it… but until you make your own mistakes and have your own trails with life advice doesn’t make as much sense, but heck idk maybe it can help.. i know i needed to hear this.

so attached are some pictures of my dorm room and some stuff from my first quarter :) relax, don’t fear your move, or do either way it’ll end up just fine, and if its not fine, you’ll find the strength to move on from it

#college #artschool #advice #moving #movingout

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delkios · 6 years

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To the Unknown Beloved (DC TV)

#dccoldwave #dccoldwaveweek2018 #fic 2018 #lisa snart #leonard snart #mick rory

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floridaprelaw-blog · 4 years

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Aaron Hernandez: What Went Wrong?

By Matthew Ginsberg, University of South Florida, Class of 2021

January 26, 2020

Aaron Josef Hernandez (November 6, 1989- April 19, 2017) was a former NFL superstar, who signed a 5 year, $40 million contract with the New England Patriots in August of 2012. Hernandez contract guaranteed him $16 million and included $12.5 million in signing bonuses. The following season, Hernandez helped lead the Patriots to the Super Bowl XLVI, where he accomplished what most kids can only dream of: catching a touchdown pass in the most publicized game of the year. By the age of 22, Hernandez had fame, fortune, and an opportunity to go down as one of the best tight ends in NFL history… So how is it that just 5 years later, Hernandez faced trial for allegedly committing a double murder after an altercation at a bar, faced trial for allegedly killing his long time friend and future brother in- law Oden Lloyd, and took his own life just days after being found not guilty for his initial double murder charges?

Aaron Hernandez grew up in Bristol Connecticut, where he became a multi- star athlete in basketball, track, and football. Growing up in an abusive household, Hernandez faced physical and psychological scrutiny from his father, who used harsh- tactics and ego- driven rhetoric towards his sons, forcing Aaron to grow up at an early stage of adolescence. Impounded by sexual abuse as a young boy, Hernandez faced odds that would have sent most kids into a downward spiral, leading to the potential for violence and illegal misconduct. But instead of dwelling on heartache and pain, Aaron utilized sports as fuel that allowed a safe environment for him to unleash his wrath, and get praised for doing so. An idealized- superstar athlete, who was perceived as a winner on the court, on the track, and on the field. Winning all- state honors as a tri- star athlete, it was clear that Hernandez was going to defeat the odds and become a professional athlete. So what transpired off the field that caused this world renowned superstar to collapse just as his career was getting started?

To figure out the psychological brutality engraved within the life of Hernandez, it’s critical to analyze the factors that contributed to his downfall. Facing sexual abuse as a young boy, Hernandez sexuality taunted him as soon as he reached high school. Living in a heteronormative household, Aaron knew that the idea of being a gay man would not suit well with his aggressive and unforgiving father. Rather than trying to come out as an openly gay man,Hernandez decided to keep his personal life secret, choosing not to tell even his closest of friends about his alleged private, intimate relationship with his former high school teammate and lover, Dennis SanSoucie.

While Aaron Hernandez faced great pressure from his homophobic father Dennis Hernandez, Aaron had great respect for him and viewed him as an authoritative mentor. Although his father struggled with alcohol abuse and impulsive tendencies, Aaron looked up to Dennis for helping guide his path in sports and in life. The relationship between Aaron and Dennis can be puzzling to say the least, but they developed a mutual respect for one another and bonded over Aaron’s athletic ability, regardless of the sport being played. At the age of 16 years old, Dennis died after complications from hernia surgery, which had direct ramifications to the psychological well- being of Aaron. No longer under the shadow of his father, Aaron indulged in his new- found independence. He decided to secretly attend a recruiting opportunity from the University of Florida, where he quickly decided that he would shift paths from his initial first choice of UCONN, graduate high school early, and join the Gators in January of 2007.

In 2009, Hernandez helped the Gators defeat the Oklahoma Sooners 24 to 14 in the BCS National Championship game. Projected as a first draft pick, it was clear that Hernandez was on the path to become a multi- millionaire athlete. Although Hernandez was a star on the field, off the field he faced allegations for a bar brawl that left a security guard knocked out cold and was questioned for a 2007 shooting in Gainesville that left two men wounded. Although his conduct never followed any legal penalties, NFL teams did their due- diligence, leaving many teams questioning if his lack of maturity would suffice in the NFL. After dropping to the fourth round, the New England Patriots decided he was worth the gamble, and drafted him as the 113th overall pick in the 2010 NFL Draft. In his rookie season, Hernandez scored six touchdowns and had over 560 receiving yards. In his second season, he helped the Patriots make it to the Super Bowl, where they were beaten in a miraculous upset by the New York Giants 21 to 17. Although the Patriots failed to win the Super Bowl, Hernandez was rewarded with a 5 year, $40 million contract in the off- season that guaranteed him membership in the Patriots organization through the 2018 season. But just as his rein to stardom ventured quickly, it all came crumbling down in June of 2013 (less than one year later) after being escorted out of his home in handcuffs with charges of first degree murder and five firearms violations.

Following his arrest on June 26, 2013, the Patriots decided that it was in the organization's best interest to terminate Hernandez’s contract and release him from the team.After pleading not guilty, Hernandez faced life is prison with no opportunity for parole if convicted. After facing trial in April of 2015, the jury found Aaron Hernandez guilty of committing first degree murder against Oden Lloyd. While this sentence left no opportunity for a reduced sentence, Hernandez was also facing legal consequences for a double homicide back in2012. After his trial in April 14, 2017, the jury acquitted Hernandez, claiming that there was no sufficient evidence to support the charges. Although the ruling created an opportunity for Hernandez to appeal his initial first degree murder charge, Aaron Hernandez committed suicide on April 19, 2017 (just five days after being found not guilty of double homicide charges). In a note written to his then fiance, he stated that “You’re rich,” hinting that he believed that by committing suicide, the case would be abated, and the Patriots would be forced to pay nearly $16million they guaranteed in Hernandez’s initial contract to his daughter and fiance.

Although Hernandez hoped that his early departure would ensure his loved ones financial stability for the remainder of their lives, he failed to anticipate what would happen in the years to follow. In March of 2019, “The Supreme Judicial Court unanimously found that the legal rule that erased Hernandez’s conviction is ‘outdated and no longer consonant with the circumstances of contemporary life.’ It ordered that Hernandez’s conviction be restored and that the practice be abolished for future cases.” Through updating legislation on abatement laws is Massachusetts, Hernandez’s family was not rewarded with financial compensation from the New England Patriots. Instead, with the efforts of Oden Lloyd’s mother pleading to the court that justice needed to be served, Hernandez initial ruling of first degree murder charges was upheld, leaving his family without any financial restitution.

Regardless of individual perception of Aaron Hernandez’s actions, it’s clear that his path to stardom ended in tragedy. After scientific analysis of his brain confirmed that Hernandez was suffering from CTE, speculation began on if Hernandez was a sadistic sociopath or a victim to a vicious disease. “According to the Boston University CTE Center, Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE) is a degenerative brain disease found in athletes, military veterans, and others with a history of repetitive brain trauma.” Between the abuse suffered as a child, head trauma from taking overwhelming blows to the head in football, and Hernandez’s alleged bicurious life, it’s evident that Hernandez was both a victim and perpetrator of abuse, violence, and abandonment. To judge Hernandez for committing such gruesome acts of violence against innocent civilians is justified, but failure to acknowledge the hardships he faced beginning in his early stages of youth would signify a lack of willingness to grasp the greater scope of the situation presented.

________________________________________________________________

Belson, Ken. “Aaron Hernandez Had Severe C.T.E. When He Died at Age 27.” The New York Times , The New York Times, 21 Sept. 2017, www.nytimes.com/2017/09/21/sports/aaron-hernandez-cte-brain.html.

Berman, Bradley. “Aaron Hernandez.” Biography.com , A&E Networks Television, 16 Jan. 2020, www.biography.com/athlete/aaron-hernandez.

Hanna, Jason, and Eric Levenson. “Former NFL Star Aaron Hernandez Hangs Himself In Prison.” CNN , Cable News Network, 20 Apr. 2017, www.cnn.com/2017/04/19/us/aaron-hernandez-suicide/index.html.

Jaeger, Max. “Aaron Hernandez 'Had Sexual Relationship With High School Quarterback'.” The New York Post , New York Post, 15 Oct. 2018, nypost.com/2018/10/14/aaron-hernandez-had-sexual-relationship-with-hs-quarterback/.

Laneri, Raquel. “Aaron Hernandez's Suicide Notes Revealed.” New York Post , New York Post, 20 Aug. 2018, nypost.com/2018/08/18/aaron-hernandezs-suicide-notes-revealed/.

Meara, Paul. “Aaron Hernandez' Gay Lover Reveals Shocking Details About Their Relationship .” Bet.gov , 15 Oct. 2018, www.bet.com/news/sports/2018/10/14/aaron-hernandez.html.

Smith, Carl A. “Aaron Hernandez's 2015 Murder Conviction Reinstated, Ramifications For His Family.” Yahoo! Sports , Yahoo!, 7 Mar. 2019,

Photo Credit: Jeffrey Beall

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scotianostra · 4 years

Photo

Happy 33rd Birthday Andy Murray born in Glasgow on May 15, 1987, to Judy and William Murray.

Andrew Barron Murray grew up in Dunblane and began playing tennis at age 3. A former competitive tennis player, Judy coached Andy and his older brother, Jamie, in their early years.

In March 1996, while 8-year-old Murray was sitting in his classroom at Dunblane Primary School, an armed man entered the building, and shot and killed 17 people—16 students and one teacher—before committing suicide by turning the gun on himself. During the horrible event, Murray ran and hid in his headmaster's office. It still surprises me today that some people are unaware of this tumultuous thing happened in Andy's life and he picked himself up and achieved so much

Andy scored a major youth championship when he won Florida's Orange Bowl in his age group in 1999. In 2004, he became the world's No. 1 junior after winning the U.S. Open junior title. Later that year, he was named the BBC's "Young Sports Personality of the Year."

After losing to Djokovic at the 2013 Australian Open, Murray made history that summer by defeating the Serbian player to claim the Wimbledon men's singles championship. He was the first British male to win the tournament in 77 years and the second Scottish-born player to win Wimbledon since Harold Mahony in 1896 a gap of 117 years.

Andy seemingly was back on track when he reached his fourth Australian Open final in early 2015. That March, he scored career victory No. 500 while competing at the Miami Open.

Murray followed with an impressive run at the 2015 French Open, battling back from a two-set deficit in the semifinals before succumbing to Djokovic. A few weeks later, he reached the semifinals of Wimbledon, but his hopes of advancing were cut short by the ageless Federer. Murray's subsequent fourth-round loss at the U.S. Open not only thwarted his last chance for a major title in 2015, it snapped his streak of 18 consecutive appearances in a Grand Slam quarterfinal.

The following month, Murray continued his sterling play by defeating Argentina's Juan Martin del Potro at the Rio Games, making him the first male tennis player to successfully defend his Olympic singles title.

In March 2018 Murray lost his British number one ranking to Kyle Edmund for the first time since 2006.

In January 2019 a very emotional Murray announced at a press conference that his career was possibly over due to struggling physically for a "long time", particularly with his hip injury. He said that he had been suffering with hip pain on a daily basis, and that it caused him to struggle with tasks like putting his shoes and socks on.He spoke of the possibility of a second hip surgery, but expressed doubt this would be a viable option to prolong his career, merely allowing him to "have a better quality of life, and be out of pain"

He said he hoped to play on until at least Wimbledon but that the upcoming Australian Open could well be his last tournament, he later went out in the second round. Andy admitted "I'm not sure I can play through the pain for another four or five months"

The top American doubles player Bob Bryan urged Andy to have the Birmingham Hip Resurfacing Operation that helped him return to top flight tennis. Informing him that the BHR would improve his quality of life and may help him return to the professional tennis tour. The orthopedic surgeon who pioneered the treatment said in an interview he could forecast a return to the sport "in the high 90 per cent" Andy had the surgery that Februar and on 7 March, Murray stated in an interview that he was now free of pain in his hip as a result of the surgery and may therefore return to playing competitive tennis, but that any potential Wimbledon return would be dependent on how his hip felt, and that he would not rush his comeback and may test his condition by playing doubles.

Andy has since played a number of doubles matches, the most anticipated was the dream pairing with Serena Williams at Wimbledon last year, they lost in the third round to the top seeds. He continued playing the doubles circuit till late that year before returning to singles, losing his first few matches was no surprise, this was about getting back to match fitness and he dropped down to the second tier "Challenger circuit" to regain his match fitness, winning his first match since January.

In October last year Andy made it to the final and won the European Open against three time Grand Slam winner Stan Wawrinka 3-6, 6-4., 6-4.

At the end of November 2019, a television documentary, Andy Murray: Resurfacing, was released on Amazon Prime, detailing Murray's various attempts to overcome his hip injury over a two-year period from his defeat at Wimbledon in 2017 to his doubles victory at Queen's Club in 2019. December saw him withdraw from the the Australian Open and the inaugural ATP Cup with a pelvic injury.

Of course the world has stood still in the past few months, I follow Andy on Twitter and he is keeping fit and in good spirits, let's all hope he bounces back to his best after the Covid Crisis is over and top flight sport returns. In his personal life April 2015 saw Andy Murray marry longtime girlfriend Kim Sears at Dunblane Cathedral in his hometown. They had met at the U.S. Open in 2005, they have three bairns, Sophia, Edie, and Teddy.

Murray is on the leadership team of Malaria No More UK, a charity that raises funds and awareness to save lives in Africa, and a global ambassador for the World Wildlife Fund.

#Scotland #scottish #sportsman #Tennis #champion

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sapphirebluestars · 7 years

Text

Little Black Dress - 2

In case you missed it: << Intro

Characters: Mark x Reader ft. Jackson, JB, & an OC

Genre: fluff, well at least this part is kind of fluffy

Warnings: None

Length: 3.2k

The taxi sped off into the night taking quick turns and sharp exits. The ride was quiet filled only by soft radio music, Mark looking out his window and you looking out yours. The silence between you and Mark was welcoming, almost like a short pause before the movie began, filled with anticipation and wonderment. The scene outside quickly changed from city skyline to rolling hills and open fields. In the dark you could pick out vaguely small houses in the distance separated by vast plots of land. The stars were slightly more visible now twinkling at you from above almost as if they were pointing to Mark’s secret destination. It felt like you had been in the taxi forever, glancing at the display of your phone, the bright screen illuminated the entire back seat flashing the time at you.

It was then that Mark glanced over smiling at you from the light of your phone. “Not trying to get Jess to rescue you, are you?” he joked,” Don’t worry we’re almost there.” You smiled at Mark as he turned back to face out his window. His side profile wasn’t easy to look away from, his sharp jaw angled just so that you could see the curvature of his face. The shadows from the light of the moon hid half his face from your view making him look like he had blended in with the night. A lurch in your stomach gave way to the anxious butterflies again and you pulled your arms in closer taking deep breaths. Your phone chirped lightly signifying a loss of cell signal as the taxi pulled to a stop.

The headlights beamed into the empty night, pointing slightly up at what looked like a trail. Mark popped his door open walking around the outside before meeting you on your side, opening the door for you. He stuck his hand out and you took it helping you get out of the car. Your feet were met with uneven ground and rocks and you stumbled a bit holding on to Mark for support. He kept you upright never letting go of your hand before pulling you out of the way and knocking on the taxi twice signaling the driver to leave.

“But wait, how are we supposed to get back?”

“Leave it all to me, princess,” Mark said beginning to tug you along. The gravel and dirt underneath your feet crunched as Mark led you toward the path winding up the side of a hill.

“Mark…I can’t,” you said pointing down at your heels. He looked puzzled for a moment before giving you a mischievous look.

“Hold on tight,” he said and without warning scooped you up into his arms causing you to instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. A small gasp left your lips as you noticed your face a mere inch or two from Mark’s. He licked his lower lip slowly to be sure you noticed before clearing his throat and hoisting you up to get a better hold on you.

“Up there we go,” he said pointing with his eyes.

“Wait can you carry me all the way up there?” you said eyes widening.

“Princess I can do anything as long as I have you right here with me,” he said back. You broke eye contact with Mark feeling your heart beat rapidly inside your chest only hoping Mark didn’t feel it too with your bodies pressed together. Together you started up the trail, Mark carrying you bravely like a prince rescuing his princess. Along the way up Mark filled the silence with his thoughts, talking about his firm belief in the accuracy of astrology, about his most crazy encounter with a client at the recording studio, and about his desire to make a difference in the world. The more Mark spoke the more you felt your heart warm towards him. How lovingly he spoke of his job and his dream to make a difference in the world broke down the defensive barrier you had shielded yourself with all while softening your heart. About halfway into the walk Mark paused and set you down on your feet.

“The ground is softer here, it’s mainly grass,” Mark said grabbing your hand again causing electric shocks to shoot up your arm and throughout your body. He towed you along weaving in and out of trees following the path only by the moonlight that shined overhead. It was then that Mark turned the focus of conversation on to you, asking about where you were from, what you did, what your interests and passions were in. You answered each question animatedly and excitedly telling Mark about how you grew up in a small city but moved for the change of pace, about how you were a fashion magazine editor, and about all the times you’ve volunteered abroad as part of relief programs and how you sang in the shower when you thought no one was listening. The more you talked the more Mark pulled you up to walk beside him, slowing his pace and swinging your intertwined hands back and forth.

With each new story to tell you saw his eyes gleam in awe and his broad smile made you more excited about the things you loved. Midway through your story about a small Vietnamese girl who had made you a flower crown from flowers in a local field, you heard a frog croak.

“Wow…,” you uttered almost at a complete loss for words. The scene before you was incredible. Encompassed by a large circle of trees was a beautiful and vast lake. The moon shined bright above casting light over the lake, lily pads and cat tails lined the edges, and docked along a rickety wooden platform was a little rowboat.

“Come on,” Mark said. His hand had slipped from yours without you noticing and he had begun to walk towards the little rowboat waiting for you at the makeshift dock. “Now give me your hand,” he said motioning for you to hop into the boat. He grabbed your clutch from you and tossed it onto a sturdy part of the dock before tossing his wallet, phone, and a set of keys with it.

“This isn’t ours though Mark, what if the person who owns this comes out and gets mad?”

He raised his brow in thought tapping his finger against his chin for a moment before replying,” You know, I don’t think the owners will be mad at all.” You hopped in feeling the boat shake as you grabbed the side to stable yourself. Taking a seat on the wooden bench Mark hopped in lightly and gracefully before he untied the boat pushing away from the dock. “Wanna help me row?” You nodded excitedly kicking your heels off and picking up a paddle down by your feet. You began to paddle in sync with Mark getting further and further from the platform. Mark flicked his paddle sending a splash of water over into your lap. You let out a yelp, eyes widening at your now wet dress.

He shrugged his shoulders giving you big puppy eyes before saying,” Oops, I don’t know how that happened.” His face broke in to the silliest grin. You huffed a breath of air moving the strands around your face before glancing down at the glistening water. An evil grin broke across your face before you made a scooping motion with your paddle dumping a lap full of water onto Mark. He stood up in surprise, arms thrown up looking down at you in bewilderment.

“Okay I splashed you barely, but I did not dump half the lake on you,” he chuckled.

Looking back up at him innocently you mimicked him, shrugging your shoulders before saying,” Oops, I don’t know how that happened.” Mark popped a tongue in his cheek scoffing at your mockery before sitting back down. Without even noticing it, you had reached a good distance from the wooden platform and the land. Mark kicked back opposite from you placing his paddle in his lap staring at you. He had untucked his dress shirt from his pants loosening the tie around his neck. You looked longingly at the dip of his collarbone connected to his neck, eyes making a trail from his jawline down abruptly to his wet shirt that clung to every curvature of his abs.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked moving to sit next to him on his side of the rowboat to avoid staring at him. He looked up at the sky lacing his fingers behind his head propping himself up.

“Just that I’m glad you’re having a good time, I was worried this would be too much and you’d get freaked out by it or something.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye before relaxing.

“This is perfect,” you began,” To be honest I haven’t been on many first dates, but this has been the best one by far.” His eye cracked open and he looked over at you smiling. Together you looked up at the stars as the boat made slow, lazy rotations pushed by the slight breeze of the night. Mark continued to ask his questions getting to know you: where you went to school, what your family was like, why fashion editing as a career. You answered each question in as much detail as possible pouring out everything to Mark.

“So then can I ask you another question,” Mark asked quietly.

“Shoot,” you said sitting up so that your back leaned against the side of the boat, turning to face him.

“Why is an amazing girl like you single?” You froze and your throat dried. Licking your lips a few times you glanced up at the sky blinking back tears. You felt the weight of the boat shift as Mark sat up straddling the bench directly across from you, moving closer so that his knee bumped yours.

“Hey no don’t cry, I’m sorry you don’t have to answer that,” Mark said grabbing your hand in his drawing small circles on your palm with his thumb.

“No, it’s okay it’s just,” you choked out fighting the tears with every fiber in your body,” My boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend I mean, dumped me a month ago and it didn’t end well like he kind of just left me. And we were together for two and a half years and…I am so sorry you don’t want to hear this.” You said wiping the tears that broke free of your resolve.

“Great I did it again,” you mumbled wiping at the tears that made their way down your cheeks.

“Did what?” Mark said cupping your cheek to swipe at the last tear falling down your face.

“I made the date weird or awkward or both,” you said quietly turning your face away from Mark. You had sniffled dabbing under your eyes with the pads of your fingers to dry up all the tears.

“Don’t be ridiculous Y/N, this is the best date I’ve been on in a long time and I’ve really enjoyed it with you. The entire night of us being together and all the little times you got flustered were insanely adorable, I couldn’t get enough of you which is why I poked some fun at you, but I’m so sorry if I made you feel like the night was going horribly because you’re honestly the most amazing girl.”

You looked back up at Mark eyes glistening in amazement. “And as for that other guy, screw him because thanks to him I get to be out on this beautiful night with this beautiful girl.” With his hand, still on your cheek he started to lean in and your eyes fluttered shut leaning in to meet him halfway. A sinking feeling hit your stomach and you felt the weight of the rowboat shift all onto one side until you were engulfed by water. The rowboat flipped and you were thrown into the water frantically trying to push your way to the surface as water found its way into your lungs. You felt a hand grab yours yanking you up and you gasped for air coughing out the water and struggling to breathe.

“Are you okay,” Mark asked with one arm extended above his head holding on to the boat for support, with his free arm he held you afloat.

Coughing out the last bits of water you regained your composure before blinking at him a few times,” Yeah, yeah I think I’m okay.”

Mark started laughing hysterically and you looked up noticing the rowboat was completely flipped making a little roof over your heads.

“I am so sorry,” Mark said between laughs,” I did not mean for that to happen but it was kind of funny.”

You began to laugh too, looking at Mark with his hair matted to his forehead only imaging how you must look to him. The laughter died down as quickly as it had started as Mark looked at you seriously for a second. A sudden lust filled his eyes as he pushed himself closer to you circling an arm around your waist as he pulled you in flush against him. “I actually think we were in the middle of something,” he said with a seductive growl to his voice.

Without giving you a second to process Mark’s lips landed softly on yours the feeling sending a red-hot heat pulsating through your veins. With your free hand not gripping the boat to stay afloat you wound it around the back of Mark’s neck wanting to pull him closer. The tip of his tongue poked your lower lip dragging a long slow line across your bottom lip before you parted your lips for him. The kiss deepened and the fire in the pit of your stomach roared to life. Your tongues swirled around each other hungrily as if you were the only thing the other person needed. Mark’s hand on your body roamed up and down your sides before settling on the small of your back to pull you in closer. His soft lips melded with yours causing the fire in your stomach to grow even more. Running your hand through Mark’s hair you deepened the kiss hearing a low moan slip from his lips before you both broke apart for air.

“Now it’s my turn to say wow,” Mark said breathlessly, smiling as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Wow indeed,” you said back glancing back up at the boat overhead biting your lip.

“Right,” Mark chuckled swimming over to the side,” Come help me push this up.” You kicked your way over to where Mark was and on the count of three managed to flip the boat right side up. Holding on to the edge Mark pushed you up first allowing you to help pull him up. You both flopped onto the bench laughing once again noticing how soaked you both were while watching your shoes drift away.

“It’s okay,” you started,” I didn’t like those shoes very much to begin with.” Mark chuckled plucking the paddles out from the water before handing you one.

“Let’s head back,” he said,” But first.” He leaned over you pulling your face to his before placing a long, slow kiss on your lips.

“I hope that was okay,” he said pulling back so he was only an inch or two from your face.

“More than okay,” you said kissing him once more before smiling back at him. He bit his lip giddily before taking his seat on the bench beginning to row. Once making it back to the dock, Mark tied up the boat pulling you up onto the dock to grab your things.

“So, despite falling into the lake what was your favorite part about this date?” Mark asked eyeing you.

“Falling into the lake made the entire date,” you shot back winking at him. You could swear you saw a light blush on Mark’s cheeks. He reached for your hand which you took as he began to walk you back.

“Oh,” you said looking down at the rock littered ground and your bare feet. Mark smiled at you kneeling down to allow you to crawl onto his back. He linked his arms under your thighs before standing back up again beginning to walk in the opposite direction that you came.

“Wait Mark we came from that way,” you said pointing in the opposite direction.

“I know princess,” he said without stopping. You wrapped your arms around his neck tighter as he led you toward a lake house. The lights of the house were all off and parked in the driveway was a shiny black sports car. Mark fished his keys from his pocket clicking the button twice before seeing the lights of the shiny black sports car blink at you.

“That’s yours?!” you exclaimed as he set you down by the passenger door. He pulled it open for you letting you slide inside before circling the car to get into the driver’s seat.

“Yes, this is my baby,” he said proudly as the engine roared to life,” Remember how I said I was new to the area? Well I am new but that’s only because I just moved back. I actually grew up in the city and my family and I would come to this lake house, but then I went to college and my first company flew me out to Los Angeles for work, and now I’m back.” You looked at him in awe as he started backing out of the driveway heading towards the city. A million questions raced through your mind and you shot question after question at Mark asking him about his family, his life in the city before having to move, and of why he returned.

“Well Jackson is my boy, when he said he had an opportunity for me I just couldn’t turn him down,” Mark replied smiling at you. He took the hand closest to you off the wheel and rested it on your thigh as the city came into view. You glanced down at his hand feeling happy butterflies dance around in your stomach as he began to rub your thigh with his thumb. The rest of the car ride was ridden out jamming to songs by Mark and Jackson’s artists and taking in the beautiful views of the city.

The second half of the night was surprising and shocking, almost enough to make you forget all about Jaebum again. Almost.

Mark parked by the entrance of your apartment building shutting his car off before walking around to open your door for you. He led you out and you walked hand in hand up to your apartment. Resting a hand on the doorknob you jiggled it to make sure it was unlocked before turning back to Mark. “I had a really great time tonight,” you said wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you for letting me take you away,” Mark replied as he grabbed your waist pulling you against him. You looked at him shyly before standing up on your toes to kiss him. Mark smiled into the kiss hugging you against him tighter. It was at that moment it felt like nothing could go wrong.

“What the hell are you doing with my girl?!” Your heart stopped and Mark broke apart from you looking into the direction of the voice.

“Your girl?” Mark shot back standing straighter and squaring his shoulders.

“Damn right,” the voice said and the blood drained from your face.

“Y/N who is this tool?” the voice said.

“JB you really shouldn’t be here,” you said back quietly.

A/N: What?! JB is back?! Tune in next time to find out more. ;) In the meantime if you liked this please give it a like and reblog I would appreciate it!

#sapphirebluewrites #mark tuan #jackson wang #im jaebum #got7 #mark x reader #got7 x reader #part three #love #romance #kpop fanfiction #got7 fanfic #mark fanfic

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ice-cream-beat · 7 years

Note

14: Terraqua :)

You always give me the prompts that really make me think. XD (Which is a good thing.) And sorry not sorry for the little Ven blurb in this; even if he’s not present I still have to talk about him. |D (in my defense tho, it IS Terra and Aqua, sooo)

#14: Visiting each other’s house for the first time.

Summary: He knew what some people said about Aqua, too, and their relationship, but he’d discovered on day one that she could fend for herself. (But protective habits die hard.) AU Terra/Aqua.

Ao3 version here

/ / / / /

Terra wasn’t sure what to expect. Aqua’s workspace was always crowded but organized, she carried a small purse of what he guessed were only the essentials, and her side of the table was always tidy when they went out to eat. The exception was her car, half of which she seemed to use as storage space judging by her crammed trunk and the miscellaneous boxes that had crowded the backseat for the last four months, but he was under the lifetime impression that messy cars were just a universal Girl Thing, anyway.

So as he walked up the short path to her townhouse suite with the intention of entering it for the first time, he had mixed impressions of what to anticipate. In the two years he had known her and the five months that they had been properly dating, he had only ever been as far as her dormitory living room back on campus, but that had been shared with two other girls. He’d never really seen any space that was only Aqua’s. Now that he thought about it, it was a little strange that he couldn’t picture how she spent her evenings after winding down from her busy days. It had never come to mind.

He shoved his keys into his coat pocket and rapped lightly on the front door. It was a decent neighborhood, lined with buildings that were at least two decades old. A little rundown here and there, but holding up under time regardless. Glancing up and down the street as he waited, Terra couldn’t help noticing how blatantly his car stuck out. Most of those on the street were just as well-used as the buildings and probably just as old, Aqua’s included; in contrast, anyone who recognized the make and model of his own and could estimate the price tag would likely identify him as not being from around here.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He knew the kinds of things that had been said behind his back at college – the privileged rich kid of the university president, the daddy’s boy who had surely bought his grades as easily as he could throw money at anything else – but he’d gotten too used to gossip in high school to let it bother him anymore. He knew what some people said about Aqua, too, and their relationship, but he’d discovered on day one that she could fend for herself.

Terra had been worried for Ven the most, afraid his little brother would take that kind of pettiness to heart, but his fears had been unfounded – mostly. Ven had an uncanny talent for winning over just about anybody in less than a minute, possessing what Aqua called a golden personality. There were those who were immune to his charm, certainly, but Ven wasn’t the type to get walked on. He’d been in a few fistfights on school grounds in his lifetime, most of them undocumented, and even more off-campus. He didn’t need coddling like in elementary school. Like Aqua, he could handle himself – and any insults directed at his family – even if his rough and short-tempered tactics weren’t exactly ideal.

Maybe I should’ve taken his car, Terra mused, returning to his initial thought. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. And when the door opened a moment later, he forgot about it, anyway.

Aqua beamed up at him, immediately moving to embrace him tightly. “Terra!”

He smiled over her shoulder as he returned the gesture, glad for the warmth of her body against the winter’s cold at his back. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not that bad with directions.” She pulled back with a chuckle, but her hands remained on his shoulders as she seemed to study him. “What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just… felt longer than two weeks.”

Brushing her hair aside, Terra leaned forward to give her forehead a light kiss. She hummed warmly. “I know what you mean,” he sympathized.

Taking his hand, Aqua drew back and ushered him inside to close the door and lock out the chill. It was a cozy kind of warm that met him, and as Terra pulled off his jacket he gave the foyer-slash-living-room a cursory glance. Grey carpet accented with a burgundy rug between the couch and the coffee table, white walls decorated with soft drawings and bright paintings. A small couch, a small TV, books and mail piled up beside a steaming mug of what he knew had to be tea. Very normal – and very Aqua.

“Did you find the hotel okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Check-in went fine.” He paused, sniffing curiously at the air. “What’s that?”

Her smile quirked. “I know you can cook,” she assured him, “and as much as I like it when you help, I thought you might be tired from the trip. So I got a head-start on dinner.”

He wasn’t about to argue, but he wasn’t about to let her do everything now that he was here, either. As she led him around the corner and into the tiny kitchen, where the mingling scents grew strong enough for him to identify something Italian, he asked what he could help with. “The table still needs setting,” she told him, moving to the stove. “Plates are in the cabinet beside the fridge.”

“Got it.”

Aqua had managed her time expertly, as usual. In under five minutes everything was on the table, they were seated, and while it was most certainly a new thing to dine at her place – not her shared dorm, not a restaurant, not the picnic tables behind the library or any of their usual places – it was all too familiar to be awkward. This was still casual conversation about work and friends and plans. This was still Aqua.

They talked about her new neighborhood, the upcoming job interviews Terra had been lucky enough to land, Aqua’s home-based jewelry-making business (which was taking off well, he was glad to hear), how their mutual friends were faring since their graduation, and every other update that came to mind.

“Sorry I missed the move-in,” he remarked, glancing around at the place again. “But it looks like you managed just fine without me.”

“We did,” she assured him with a smile. “Ven was a big help. But it’s fine, I know how important that trip was. How’d it go, by the way?”

“Good, I think.” Terra’s tone was casual, but he was more excited about it than he let on. Just in case the experience hadn’t been as positive as he thought, he didn’t want to get his hopes up too much. He was just one of dozens of qualified graduates seeking a place in the program. “I’m looking into backup plans just in case, but–” He laughed a bit sheepishly. “It’s kind of the dream scenario, you know? Getting in would mean opening a lot of doors for my career, but – actually getting to work there, even as an intern? I want to go for the personal experience alone.”

Aqua hummed, looking pleased. She’d picked up on his passion on the subject. “What kind of work would you be doing?”

“Research. Mostly med lab stuff, but he mentioned they do a lot of psych evaluations, too.” Coming from a biochemistry background with several hundred hours of work experience in varying lab positions, Terra figured he had a lead over some of the other candidates, at least.

“I know you’d enjoy that,” Aqua chuckled. “What are they researching?”

“A lot of things, actually. But the professor I’d be working with is the head of the department on heart studies.”

“Hearts? You mean it’s a cardiology department?”

“Not exactly.” It had sounded strange to him at first, too, but the interview had explained it in a way that not only made sense, but also deeply piqued his interest. “Biology is a big part of it, but they’re also studying any relations or even correlations to the psychological sense. Emotion and memory, basically.” Noting Aqua’s expression, Terra scratched the back of his neck. “It was a long lecture, so I won’t bore you with it. But it sounds like it could be groundbreaking if they find what they’re looking for. And it’d be a great opportunity either way.”

She reached across the table to cover his hand. “It sounds like it. And I’m sure your chances of getting in are as good as anyone’s. How many spaces are they offering?”

“Just two,” said Terra, deflating every so slightly. “Xehanort said he prefers to focus on training two interns he’s sure he can trust, rather than dividing his time between a team.”

“Xehanort?”

“The professor in charge of the program.” Strange name, to be sure, but the elderly man had been polite, though sternly authoritative in his mannerisms, and certainly seemed to know his field. “The only thing is, if I did get it, it’s overseas,” Terra reminded her. “I could probably catch a plane on holiday weekends, but otherwise I’d be gone for most of the year, so…”

He felt her fingers tighten reassuringly around his. The light in Aqua’s smile hadn’t faded slightly, even at that news. “You’re somebody who’s going places, Terra. Sometimes literally.” She tilted her head, watching him fondly. “I’ve known that since I met you. Your career’s important to you – and to me, too, as long as it makes you happy. Wherever we end up, and however long it takes, we’re still here for each other. We promised we’d make it through together, remember?”

That smile was contagious. Terra entwined their fingers, gripping back. “Yeah. We did.”

Aqua stood up and moved around the small table, where she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “If it’s what you want, then I really hope you get into this program,” she told him, lingering there to catch his eye. “And even if you don’t for some reason, I know you’ll find another one that’s just as great. But don’t worry about me. We’ll make it work.”

Terra knew how honest a person Aqua was, but right then her smile, her voice, her gentle eyes, the hand on his shoulder, everything about her in that moment convinced him all over again. She was the type to think of herself last, but it was clear she had no hidden misgivings about this matter. She trusted him to do what he thought was best.

With a small exhale of a laugh, Terra slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her onto his knees. “I know. You’re probably the last one I need to worry about,” he admitted.

She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. “Hey, you should always worry a little,” she teased in mock-reprimand.

“Is that how this works?”

“Mm. Worry just enough to think about me, but not enough to come running all the time.”

“Right. That goes both ways, though,” he reminded her.

Catching his smirk, Aqua wrinkled her nose as she sat up. “Fair enough. Now come on – let’s clean up and decide on a movie.”

#fanfic #i guess i just felt like flashbacking to the stressful days of college #this is actually more romance-based than anything i've written in a long time lol #so if it's kind of sappy you'll have to forgive me #also you know this couldn't be happy the whole way through right #INSERT FORESHADOWING #and this is more snapshot-y than a legit full fic but eh #i don't think i've written a modern au yet where ven didn't get in at least a couple fistfights #terra x aqua #mine #kingdom hearts #terra #aqua

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Doctors Predicted I Would Never Cure My Glaucoma & Cataract… But Contrary To Their Prediction, I Cured It ...

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Doctors Predicted I Would Never Cure My Glaucoma & Cataract… But Contrary To Their Prediction, I Cured It ...

“Warning! Don’t read down this page unless you already have 10mins to spare… 

A Publication by Officer Kenneth. I. E, former Glaucoma/Cataracts Victim! 

“Let Me Share With You The *Miracle Pill* I Used To Cure All Of My Eyes Problems” …Dropping My Glasses Permanently! 

…find a quiet place, and carefully read this shocking and urgent message.

You will be shocked when you discover the scientific breakthrough on this page. And you won’t find this shocking secret anywhere else!

To Start with,

My name is “Officer” Kenneth. I. E, …and the first thing you should know about me is, I am not a doctor. I’m not an expert on nutrition either. I never went to medical college and I don’t have any certificate in anything except that which I obtained in my marine field. But aside my job, the other thing I consider myself an “expert” about is…

I Know How Almost Any Person In NIGERIA Can Regain Their Lost Vision In A Very Easy Way!. I know… because… I CONQUER it.

This Solution I used that has worked for me and 85,912+ others – work on the following conditions:

And Other Numerous Eye Problems.

“Before I continue, I want to be VERY honest with you…

Don’t read down this page unless you have quite a bit of money.

I’m serious. You see, you are going to want…really want…the scientific breakthrough described on this page…and…if you can’t afford it, you are probably going to be sick to your stomach.

On the other hand, if you are one who is somewhat financially secure…and…you would like to Reverse Glaucoma, Myopia, Cataract, …and other serious conditions, and at the same time restore your vision without expensive and harmful surgery…no matter what your age… then this is going to be the most exciting message you will ever read. Anyway, here is what I am writing to tell you…

The Big Drug Companies Are Cheating Everyone In Nigeria Who Is Trying To Regain Lost Sight! They do this in two different ways. First of all, they try to keep us from finding out about safe, cheap ways to Reverse Glaucoma, cataracts, myopia and other eyes problems… without… going for surgery.

The second way they cheat us is, they sell us millions and millions of naira’ worth of prescription Glasses/lens that are worthless. Not only that, many of these glasses are very dangerous, …and they create a sort of refractive errors to our cornea.

As you may or may not know, “Research Has Proven That Wearing Lenses And Contacts Will Destroy Your Vision Over Time…” I’m not just saying this to scare you. It’s a fact you need to know. Scientific journals have published multiple claims that wearing corrective minus lenses really does make your eyesight worse: Of course, Dr. Bates realized this over 90 years ago… when he quotes…

..“If glasses are worn continuously over time the poor vision will generally become worse. Essentially what glasses do is lock the eyes into their refractive state and in order to see through your lenses you have to maintain the poor vision that the lenses are designed to correct.” Wm H Bates: Perfect Sight Without Glasses 1920

Here is another quote from recent research… “The use of compensatory lenses (glasses and contacts) to treat or neutralize the symptoms does not correct the problem. The current education and training of eye care practitioners discourages preventive and remedial treatment.” Gottlieb, 1982. Journal of Optometry and Visual Development.

You see, my personal Optometrist (eye doctor) was so shocked that he had to apologize to me for telling me in the past that “I may have to wear my glasses all my life”

Well, I don’t blame him anyway, it was never his fault….

But before I tell you exactly how I got to surprise everyone with my results (which am about to reveal to you right here), let me tell you my sad story…

When I was 11years old I started having difficulty seeing what my teacher wrote on the blackboard in school. My mother took me for an eye exam and I was diagnosed as being nearsighted.

“You’re going to need glasses…” my optometrist said.

I was horrified by this news since I thought they would make me look ugly and that other kids would make fun of me.

My prescription then was (as you may guess) -0.5. My eyesight got steadily worse and I required higher prescription almost every year. My glasses kept getting thicker (as thick as the bottom of the old coca-cola bottle). And over time I also developed astigmatism. My eyesight was deteriorating, and so was my self-esteem. I thought I would be chained to glasses for life.  I still remembered the dreadful day when my school optometrist passed the verdict that I am nearsighted and would need to wear glasses for my life.  You see, I was an introvert and overweight kid.  Wearing those ugly goldfish bowl type glasses wasn’t helping my limited self-esteem.  Nicknames such as four-eyed frog began to surface in my little world.  Inevitably, my eyesight worsened over the years. From 20/100, it proceeded to 20/400…  I felt like a helpless cripple whenever I was without my glasses. The world appeared in a fuzzy blur and looked pretty intimidating. I didn’t know it at the time, but wearing glasses did nothing to improve my natural vision. They were a crutch – an artificial fix.

And worse, they actually made my vision deteriorate even more because the lens power actually increased the near point stress I put my eyes under.

As of May 2011, I had a visual prescription of 20/400 on my left and 20/250 on my right eye.  This means that my left eye can only see things at 20 feet where else eyesight-healthy people can see at 400 feet.  In short, I won’t be able to see your face clearly even if you are just 20 feet right in front of me.

It was increasingly difficult to navigate my life. Where a normal person would see two headlights coming from a car at night, I would see perhaps eighteen. I couldn’t read my computer with my nose against the scree.

I couldn’t recognize my youngest son’s face from across a small room. Couldn’t read a book, couldn’t watch a movie and couldn’t even see my phone Querty keyboard unless I put my spectacles on. For much of last year I’ve been traveling with a seeing-eye (my junior brother). He’s been helping me cross streets like an old woman, and making sure I use the men’s room instead of the ladies. My eyesight problem was that terrible! . . .

“How My Poor Eye Sight Made Me Lose My Naval Pilot Job”

I never would have imagined that my bad eye-sight would ruined my career. It all started over 11 years ago as I try to fulfill my dream of becoming a Navy fighter pilot. I did everything I could to prepare myself to become a Naval pilot. I played sports, was involved in student council, and volunteered in extra-curricular activities whenever i could. I went to college, got good grades, and stayed in shape. I even got my pilot’s license. But there was one huge roadblock I could never overcome:perfect eyesight. At the time, the Navy required their pilot candidates to have perfect 20/20 vision in order to qualify – and I wasn’t even close.

You can imagine how heartbroken I was.

At the time I did not know that my eyesight could be improved naturally. I thought that my only options were to wear glasses and contact lenses for the rest of my life, or to go for an eye surgery. So, I started looking into LASIK. I knew many individuals who were very pleased with their eyesight following a laser eye surgery so I decided to take my chances despite the many potential risks associated with surgery.

In early 2012 I went to a reputable clinic to undergo LASIK. Regrettably, my surgery did not provide me with the results I hoped for. At first my vision did seem clear, but within 3 months after surgery I found myself squinting a lot. I went to get my eyes checked and was saddened to find out that I yet again had a prescription of -0.5 as well as Glaucoma and cataract combined.

Unfortunately, I also developed side effects of glare around bright lights (night driving became difficult) as well as eye dryness for which I had to use eye drops every day. My doctors offered to do another surgery but I refused not wishing to cause any more harm to my eyes. I also did not wish to wear glasses since I knew they would likely cause my vision to steadily get worse.

“Your eyes need,” said my doctor, “Immediate surgery.” And I can’t guarantee if it will become successful. My heart raced. I leaned forward and turned my head to see him with my good eye. “Tell me more,” I said softly. My doctor told me that a hospital in Canada was recruiting patients for a study of acute optic neuritis and that I might qualify. I had to decide quickly. I knew that any kind of treatment had to start within five to seven days of the onset of vision loss. Twenty-four hours had already elapsed. One internal voice battled with another:  ”Don’t be stupid and try something that is never going to work. You will be disappointed like so many others that have been diagnosed with your problem.”  But another, louder, voice asked, “What is the harm in trying?”  With great anticipation and anxiety, I finally said, “Yes, I want to be considered.” Immediately, He drove me to his study center. Signed some medical documents and handed them over to me. Take it with you, he said …and give it to whosoever that will be in charge of your second surgery in abroad.

While undergoing the trauma of losing and gaining sight, I felt overcome by desperation, …and to secure my job, I was pushed to seek solution beyond the shores of Nigeria.

It was an emergency and i couldn’t get to gather enough money for the surgery. So, I obtained a loan from a micro finance bank so as to get my eyes (especially the left eye) operated abroad.

Two days later, after some serious heartfelt prayers by my love ones and well-wishers (…my parents, wife, two kids and my younger brother) escorted me down to the airport. (my mum is a dedicated prayer warrior, though). At the airport, she insisted we say yet another prayer before I took off. We hold our hands together in that open space and not minding what others might think of us. After the prayer, I hugged each and every one of them.

As I was leaving, I turned to look if they were gone, but they were still there waving in tears. I couldn’t help it… I began to sob uncontrollably, looked at my newly wedded dear wife, then I ran back and hugged her so tightly and whisper into her ears that I’m so sorry for the pains I’ve caused her in our early relationship life.

To cut the long story sort of short, there in Canada, by 2:00 pm of the next day, I had entered the hospital as a patient. That morning was like no other ordinary November morning.

I met with Dr. Patterson, possibly the best eye surgeon in Canada. As he conducted a test in my eyes, he looked up from his instrument and said…

“Mr. Ken, I’m Afraid, It’s Official. You Are Legally Blind!”  

His words were no surprise. My vision had been troublesome all my life and, during the last year, had gotten exponentially worse. One eye was nearsighted, one eye was Glaucoma, both had astigmatism, both were scarred from sloppy radial tracheotomy surgery and both eyes had cataracts obstructing my vision.

…You have acute optic neuritis,” my doctor said, “and I don’t know if you’ll get your vision back.” Those words fell heavily on my spirits. They were not comforting, nor were they reassuring. Until that moment, I had allowed myself to believe it was a diagnosis I could perhaps triumph over. Dr Patterson’s words, however, left me with little hope. I knew that 50% of the time, my good eye would also lose sight. Thoughts and images raced through my mind. I parsed each of my doctor’s words carefully, hoping for some hidden message of hope or uncertainty. But never were my spirits so low. As he spoke, I wondered how I would be able to perform daily life activities, such as reading, telling time, or preparing meals, without sight. And all the while, I thought about telling as few people as possible. I imagined that they would not know how to behave around someone who had lost his sight. I went in for the eye surgery and came out successfully. I felt relieved.  

I got back to work and everything was fine. I thought the eye-operation was the end of it, not until 8 months later; I started having this dry eye and constant itching of the eye. I went back to my eye doctor. He gave me an eye drop with other frivolous prescriptions.  I was so sad to have gone back to the eye-drop I thought I won’t use any longer. And by then, I was still paying off the loan I’d collected from micro-finance bank. worst of all, I was demoted at work to…ensign position, and was transferred to apapa lagos to start working ashore.

Sadly, my dream of becoming a Naval pilot seemed impossible since the prerequisite is to have perfect eyesight.

However, though, my final hope was in GOD. but I thought I didn’t deserve his mercy because I turn to him only when I needed help or when all doors are closed. I felt ashamed to even utter a word of prayer, but I still have to… anyways. …It occurs to me I would never be able to repair my eyes – no matter what i do, because I have already done everything humanly possible (met with the best doctors, did eye surgery twice, bought the most expensive prescribed drugs and what have you…) but no avail.

  So, I gave up… And I carried on with my life… It had happened many times before, but somehow this time it seemed like the last straw. I did know where to turn or what else to try. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want this to sound like a sob story. I’m not telling you all this because I want you to feel sorry for me. There’s no need for that anyway. My story has a very happy ending. My story has a happy ending because the very next couple month I made a discovery that has changed my entire life. I found an amazingly way to regained my lost sight that I never dreamed existed.

When I least expected it, God sent me a Solution through Mr. Ernust Wolfgang

I will forever stay loyal and grateful to Mr. Ernust Wolfgang, a German expert at my work place, apapa, Lagos.

He was also a four eyed man in the past surffering from glaucoma and had his wife struggling with Macular degeneration.

He Overheard me complaining of my terrible eye situation to another colleague and decided to ask what I have done to improve it.

I was blunt with him, telling him my situation had no cure and that I had tried everything possible to no avail.

He laughed, quickly opened his briefcase to show me an old test card showing he had struggled with bad eye vision for over 10 years.

“But where is your glasses sir?” I asked curiously.

He simply smiled and told me to meet him at his office later that day.

…It was an appointment that changed my life forever.

The Secret Magic herbal combinations that has helped over 8500 people restore better eyesight till date!

At this point, I couldn’t wait anylonger, I was curious to know exactly what it took Mr. Wolfgang to finally do away with his glasses and see freely again.

I was so hungry for what he had to tell me that I was checking on him every 15 minutes to see if he was free, as he was a senior staff.

Then at about 3.00pm, he sent for me!

I was nervous as he sat me down, and started revealing hard known secret of improving you bad eyes Naturally using plant extract combinations.

Here is a picture of one of the Plants he revealed to me which has been used for years in Asia to treat and manage tough eyesight problems.

A White Chrysanthemum flower.

In Chinese medicine, it is one secretly used herbs in the treatment of eye disorders.

Chrysanthemum extract has been used in Chinese medicine for more than a thousand years and it is said to also prevent aging. According to Herbs 2000, chrysanthemums have a long history of being used to treat blurred vision, glaucoma, AMD, spotty vision and watering eyes.

It also contains beta-carotene (Lutein & Zeaxanthin, mainly in the yellow part of the flower) has been discovered to treat eye diseases such as cataract, glaucoma, macular degeneration and many more… The German expert smiled at me after explaining.

He then showed another Picture this time it was the bilberry plant.

There is a story that the legends carried during the Second world war, that German Pilots had a meal with Bilberry plant before bombing their enemies in high accuracy. It was believed their night vision heightened after eating the inky blue fruit.

Since then, this fruit has been experimented on and used for various vision treatments.

Aside from improving night vision, bilberry extract when combined with Chrysanthemum extract and other secret herbal extracts such as Beta Carotene (Known as the Retina’s Food), selenium and Lecithin has been found to treat any type of eye problem starting from Age-related Macular Degeneration, Glaucoma, cataract, Short and Long Sightedness, Eyestrain, Astigmatism amongst others.

I was thrilled by the discoveries but still confused on where exactly to start.

Mr. Wolfgang asked me to return the next day and get a free gift from him.

That gift has been my best gift from anyone till date. I was handed over 3 bottles of a specially made herbal capsule containing all these herbal extracts and was instructed on how to use it.

I followed it religiously for three weeks straight and my joy knew no bounds.

By the seventh week, I could see comfortable without my glasses and didn’t have to worry about carrying it or not.

Because my situation was a bit severe, it took me over 9 weeks to finally feel the full effect of my treatment.

Even after I met my savior in the person of Mr. Ernurst Wolfgang, just 3 Weeks into my treatment, something terrible happened. Mr. Wolfgang was transferred for an emergency service in South Africa, and no one saw it coming.

To me, I was weeping internally because, I didn’t know how I would get more bottles and complete my treatment when the first three gift I got finished.

But Mr. Wolfgang is the best man I have met till date, he gave me a number of someone I could buy these products abroad and even get it into Nigeria. Though it was a bit costly, I didn’t mind because I was seeing results I didn’t see in years of visiting my optometrist.

To further authenticate the effectiveness of this solution, I went to my eye doctor — who wears Spectacle himself. And he confirmed my eye is 100% better than before. He couldn’t believe that I improved my eyesight naturally.

My Doctor had to even get the same remedy from me for himself. . . which he used to get rid of his spectacle. And he apologized for ever doubting herbal solutions for my eye problems.  I have since gone on to ‘cure’ both my parents and my brother of their short sightedness. And to make sure I keep spreading this miracle solution I was handed over by Mr. Wolfgang, I decided to take the campaign online and spread the message that “Nature actually heals”

NO MORE WEARING OF SPECTACLE NO NEED OF USING ANY EYE DROPS GLAUCOMA WAS GONE FOR GOOD CATARACT DISAPPERAED within 60days.

You see, I thought of how to help others suffering with these eye problems; So, i decided to Contact the company to buy more so I can send to people with whatever eye problem. That’s when I created this page to help others.

And that is why I recently imported 150 bottles each of this magic solution.

Initially, the company wanted to sell two bottles to me for $179 (approximately 57,280 naira); I pleaded with them that since the recommended treatment needed is 2 bottles that they should please make it affordable… especially as I’m buying in bulk quantity… After long negotiation, they agreed to knock off $39 since I told them that I wasn’t really interested in making profit off it because I was once a sufferer of Glaucoma and Cataract, combined. . .that, I deeply understand the pains people are going through. Plus, I told the company that I won’t even charge for delivery regardless of their location in Nigeria.

So, after they took time to evaluate my sincerity, they finally accepted. Therefore, I was able to buy only 150 bottles. Although, I had placed order for 300 bottles, but they refused and told me that the products are limited due to high demands. Hence, I shipped in JUST 150 bottles at the rate of NGN 43,800 (for the complete treatment pack of 2 bottles). And I spent $98 (i.e NGN 31,360) to ship them to Ikeja, Lagos.

Behold, The Solution I’m Talking About is Called…

“Vision Vitale Capsules

…And “Mebo GI”

“Vision Vitale And Mebo GI” is a Natural and Herbal supplement combination for treating any type of eye problems. These Product are manufactured through Modern Biotechnology under the guidance of Herbal Medicinal experts and made from the best hidden herbal ingredients Including White Chrysanthemum, Cassia Seed, Bilberry extract, Lutein and Zeaxanthin etc. which has been scientifically proven to treat/Manage Age-related Macular Degeneration, Glaucoma, cataract, Short and Long Sightedness, Eyestrain, Astigmatism amongst others

With the combination of Vision Vitale and Mebo GI Capsule, not only do you get all the vitamins, minerals, and herbal supplements that your eyes need, but you also get…

The Highest Quality Sources of These Nutrients so that Your Body Can Process and Use Them to Nourish and Protect Your Visual System Effectively.

Vision Vitale and Mebo GI Capsule complies with all FDA rules and regulations. It’s manufactured in china and administered for the United States FDA approval under strict C.G.M.P. certification (Current Good Manufacturing Practices), Plus, Vision Vitale Capsule is approved by NAFDAC! …So you can be confident it’s a safe and healthy supplement.

Here’s the actual label from the Vision Vitale Capsule showing you exactly what nutrients it contains:

My vision is crisper and sharper. My eyes don’t become as tired and they feel better lubricated throughout the day. Best of all, I know I did all I could to support healthy, clear eyesight for the rest of my life. And I’m not the only one. I’ve received story after story from thrilled customers who have seen great results from the Vision Vitale and GI Capsule. …listen to what a few of them have to say…

Testimony 1: Hello, I have started using the Vision Capsules product around a month ago and went to do an eye test just this morning. My optician really couldn’t believe it! He was so surprised with my improvement that he said that he never saw anything like it. (Not without surgery at least!) I gave him your website address and he said that he is going to check it out and try it himself. Thank you for making this available to us!”

Mr. Donatus Enugu

Testimony 2: Hi, would it be fine if we published this breakthrough on our website? We have still got so many skeptics and options telling me that it’s not possible to improve one’s vision, but hey, who cares, because my parents, wife and I have been using this product successfully and this proves that your Vision Capsules product actually works! We will get there, as more and more people are improving their vision and talking about it. Thank you.

Uba Wisdom Oweri

Hi! I want to give a personal testimonial and highly recommend your Vision Capsules product for anyone that wants to improve their vision. I have been suffering from short-slightness since a very young age. I was considering laser surgery but it’s expensive and dangerous. Fortunately, after giving a try to this modest product, my vision improved to a degree that I hardly need to wear Spectacle anymore.

Ifeoma Abia State

Testimony 3: I thought I would live the rest of my life with Spectacle. My experience since I started taking your Vision Capsules product. I took the product at first because it was the fastest way for me to live without Spectacle. After 2 months of using Vision Capsules and my eyes felt renewed in just a few months – as if they were reborn.

Henry Festac, Lagos State

Ever since I started using your vision product (Vision Capsules), my vision has literally improved over night. I used to wear spectacles all the time but now I’m already getting used to live without them. It’s difficult to explain but I feel like I am 10 years younger. Thanks for the product. I am totally impressed and satisfied.

George Abuja

..But these are not the only testimonials. I don’t have enough room to post all of the success stories. But those are few quick ones I wanted to single-out and congratulate.

Here’s what This Vision And GI Capsules Can Do To Help You:

Improve and perfect your eyesight so that you don’t need your “readers” nearby every single time you need to read the newspaper, a report, a book, or a document.

Strengthen your eyes and focal muscles, eliminating the painful burning sensation in your eyes at the end of every single day.

Use a computer or watch TV anytime, anywhere as long as you want, without pain.

Improve ALL aspects of your vision. Whether you’re nearsighted or farsighted, the condition can be cured! See road signs from far away, watch a movie, play catch or read a book with just a lamp on, without stressing about carrying your Spectacle around everywhere!

Start your day comfortably, without worrying about taking half an hour to pop your eye drop or find your Spectacle.

Save THOUSANDS and THOUSANDS of Naira. I can’t stress enough how expensive Spectacle and eye drops are getting nowadays, and the prices just keep INCREASING. If you spend NGN20,000 – NGN100,000 a year on Spectacle and eye drops, imagine how much money you’d have to spend on things like vacations and luxuries over the 40-50 years you have to KEEP buying them!

It’s like picking up a brand new set of eye balls!

Is There A Guarantee?

 Funny you should ask. 

Unequivocally, UNCONDITIONALLY, absolutely… YES! 

I want to accept your investment only if you are satisfied with it. 

So, Here’s Why You Should Give It A Try

.Of course, when you start USING “Vitale Vision Capsules” and AFTER 60 DAYS you can’t see any significant RESULTS, Notify ME via 07080101674 and I will refund 100% of your money to your bank account. And you can keep the product.

That’s right… I’m so confident that this product will deliver as promised that I’m willing to let you try it for 60days.

So please, stop wasting money on expensive Spectacle and eye drops, or contemplating dangerous eye surgery, and grab VISION Vitale Capsules without ANY risk whatsoever. If you’re not 100% satisfied after 60 days, give me a call or send me an SMS and let me know. I’ll send you a refund every single penny you’ve spent. There’s no obligation for you to continue if it wasn’t right for you. And you can keep the bottles as my thanks for trying it. …No If’s, No Buts, And no questions asked! I’m a man of my word…  

This magical pill Works PERFECTLY for men, women… And Children, too. It contains 60 tablets per bottle.

Here is The Cost of the Vision Vitale… And Mebo GI Capsule. 

1 Month Treatment: (One Bottle Of Vision Vitale + One Bottle Of GI Capsule) = NGN 47,997  (You save NGN2,000)

2 Months Treatment: (2 Bottles Each) = NGN 89,997 (RECOMMENDED)  (You save NGN10,000)

NOTE: The Most Recommended Treatment Is the 2 Bottles ( 2 Month Treatment), You’ll Get Your Desired Result with That…and you won’t have to keep spending money on this again. 2 months treatment is the BEST! For a severe eye Glaucoma problems like mine, and someone that has done (or considering) eye surgery …yet still experience eye pains and other complications… The recommended treatment for that is the 2 months package + extra GI (Gastrointestinal) capsule for a total cure. The GI capsules helps to Rejuvenate/regenerate the damaged cells in your eyes lens and cornea! Plus, If you are suffering from other ailments such as Ulcer, Cancer, Diabetes, Bp etc… Then, GI capsule is a tested and proven combination whilst taking vision capsule. I know a lot of persons reading this page now will be harbouring some doubts about this claims . . .but that’s okay – I’m used to people being suspicious at first. But the truth is… you must experience it yourself to believe. I wouldn’t be daring it if am not sure of the result you’ll get by taking 2 months treatments”

I wouldn’t take such risk if I hadn’t used this products myself and it did wonders for me. Therefore, because I am not what people call “EYE DOCTOR” So, I think I should extend the guarantee to you. So, I repeat; “Order for 2 months treatment, (and if possible with the extra GI capsules) …use it for 60 days, and if it doesn’t deliver as promised… Call me on phone or send a text message and ask for your money back” No quibbles, no face tightening. You get back every kobo you paid. And I will also call you and apologize for wasting your time.

You can’t lose by acting, not when my guarantee is involved. But you can sit and wait for “change” …or you can take charge and make what could be one of the best decisions in your life. I understand the cost can be an issue, but what’s all this worth to your eye-sight? …By the way, consider this: If we are to calculate the normal cost of the 2 months treatment, You’re to pay just NGN89,999. That’s not a big money for those who know what it means to have been going through this. I can recall i spent NGN362,000 on a product that didn’t give me desired result …not to mention the two eye surgery i did. And, If you were to operate the eye, this will cost you much more than NGN89,999 Isn’t it? …Of course, doctors will not offer you a total SOLUTION i’m offering you. A doctor will tell you to live with the condition. There are many options for you to choose. It’s really up to you.

DOSAGE …take one tablet of vision vitale in the morning – 1hr before breakfast, and… one tablet at night, 1hr after dinner.

As for the Mebo GI, chew 2 pill in the morning and 2 at night…

Here Is How To Place an Order and receive it while you make payment upon delivery…

You see my friend, I’m a Nigerian and I know you may be wondering if you will pay first before you get this product. NO! You don’t have to pay first, once you place your order… I will send the item to your state and once it gets to your state… I will ask my delivery agent to pick it up and bring it to your provided address at no extra cost. So, once the delivery agent brings it to you. You would collect the item and give the money to him/her. This could take 1– 3days depending on your location.

You stay in your home/office and order then we deliver it to you. You don’t send money first; you pay when the item has been brought to you face to face.

‘ NOTE: Please, Do Not Place an Order if you are not ready to pay and receive Your Product within the Next 24 – 72 hours

How To Get The Vision Vitale And Mebo GI…

There are 2 options to place your order…

USE only one option please so I don’t get to receive multiple orders. If you have any question or Clarification before you order, call me with the below Phone Numbers:

08032579763 OR 08172945241

Otherwise, If You’re Okay with every words on this page, You can go ahead and place your order.

Don’t Forget, even after placing your order, you can still call me in case you have any question or you need clarification on anything.

Option one

Send SMS/Text with the below details

to 08032579763 Or 08172945241. – Your Full Name, 

– Your Full address + LGA/State, 

– Your Phone Number (Provide 2 Numbers If available), 

– Specify the number of bottle(s) you are ordering + Product Name.

EXAMPLE OF THE SMS;  

Officer Ken. I. E

No.5 Jubril Matins, Surulere, Lagos,

08032579763, 08172945241 

2 bottles of Vision Vitale + 2 bottles of GI Capsule

OPTION TWO Click the link below to fill the form…

Once you place order via any of the above option, I will waybill it to your state. And once it gets to your state. our delivery agent will pick it up and call you to deliver.

When the delivery agent gets to you. You collect the product and give the money to him/her.

I can’t accurately predict when the company would release to me another sets of bottles to bring to nigeria. – it simply depends if it will be available …as the demands is VERY high.

…When supplies runs out, this promotion will end! I’m not kidding, this offer is very temporary.  

So, when this limited pcs is ordered, this page will be pull down.   

20-20 perfect vision is within your reach, no matter how young or old you are. As long as you have some sight, Vision Vitale + GI Capsules will help you see again. Guaranteed, or you get back every penny of your purchase! To Your Success,

Officer Ken. I. E, Former Glaucoma Victim, P.S. Because of the great customer demand, you may have to call two or three times before  getting through on the phone. Don’t stop trying… it’s more than worth it. P.P.S. I expect that the price, after this “OFFER PERIOD” will be significantly higher.

ATTENTION!!!

…It has come to our notice that people are using (my sad story) the contents in this webpage to defraud the desperate and REAP them OFF …of their hard earned money by selling to them Pills which look similar to ours.  What they do is this, they copy the content on this website verbatim, or they tweak the story to look a little bit different. Some claim to be in direct partnership with us as our distributors. These acts has been going on for months unbeknownst to us.  We now know this because some few persons who called me on phone to give testimonies as some has done in the past …said that they’d in the past bought fake Vision Capsule which was advertised by one Mr. (NAME WITHELD) …that the product sold by this person has similar container with ours… but contained different contents with zero-effects.  They told me why they bought it; that their price was way cheaper than ours. Hence, they ordered.  I wish to let you know that this content is license under the federal law of Nigeria, and we don’t compromise plagiarism of any sort.    Recently, we’ve hunted the said Mr. (NAME WITHELD) who uses my personal (predicament) story to extort money from some desperate patients. And the wrath of the law has befall on him.  Attached screenshot was the first bold step taken by my attorney to sew the defrauder. And he’s currently facing charges. 

  Personally, I’ve chosen not to mention names here for diminishing and confidentiality reasons.  But look, this isn’t a situation we’ve taken lightly. The information and details provided on this publication is strictly as personal related as described. No part of this publication is allowed to be featured outside this context for whatsoever reason without a prior permission of the thread owner.   Please be very conscious of this notification and swiftly report any person posing to partner or represent us.   Regards,

Source: https://www.vanguardngr.com/2018/09/doctors-predicted-i-would-never-cure-my-glaucoma-cataract-but-contrary-to-their-prediction-i-cured-it-permanently-and-naturally-in-just-2-months-ill-show-you-how/

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