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adore-laur · 5 months

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CALIFORNIA DUSK

— birth of baby #2 in the dadrry universe 🌊

——

6:24 AM

California dawn brings serenity to the house. The sun is leisurely rising, painting the sky with wispy pink brushstrokes across an endless canvas of powder blue. Seagulls croon as they fly parallel to the hazy horizon, gracefully dipping their claws down in the water to catch their first meal of the day. Waves crash against the vacant ocean shore with persistence as if to announce that morning has arrived once again.

Soon, golden rays will seep through the flowing curtains and cast shapes on the hardwood floors. The trees will start to sway from the coastal breeze, sending earthy scents of pine and cedar into the kitchen. Toys scattered in the living room from the night before will be left alone to wallow until their owner sleepily waddles from her bedroom with a yawn and an empty stomach.

A spoon clinks against the edge of a mug, echoing throughout the tranquil kitchen as chickadees sing their song near the window. Yet the current calmness of your surroundings doesn't quite match how you feel inside.

Being awake for the past two hours — hunched over the kitchen island and rocking side to side while breathing through painful cramping — isn't how you would've liked to commence your morning. Harry is brewing homemade coffee for himself since there's a high chance it will be a long, tiresome day ahead. He's been up with you since you started having contractions, and you tried to convince him to keep sleeping, but there was no way to persuade him since he's naturally an early riser. Also, you know he would never let you handle the discomfort alone.

Your daughter is still fast asleep in her room down the hall, oblivious to how soon she'll be a big sister. You're not looking to traumatize her at a young age, so Harry's mother is on her way to pick her up in case you give birth.

You've decided on a natural water birth this time. Being in the hospital for your first child was tolerable, but the atmosphere gave you tremendous anxiety. The nurses hovering over you, the constant beeping of the machines, and the stale room all felt suffocating. You're confident you'll feel more at ease in the comfort of your own home with only Harry and the midwife witnessing you in your most vulnerable state.

As the pain temporarily alleviates in your abdomen, you slowly straighten your posture and walk some laps around the living room. There's nothing you can do except hang tight and see if anything progresses. The contractions haven't gotten to the point of unbearable, but they still beg the question of whether you'll be having a baby today. It's a waiting game.

Harry is surprisingly relaxed, but you suppose it's because this isn't his first rodeo. Seeing the difference in his composure compared to the first time you went into labor is humorous. He had clammy hands, was a stuttering mess, and also forgot to bring his driver's license when he drove you to the hospital.

Now, it's like he has never been more prepared for anything in his entire life. He could be hiding his nerves well, but otherwise, he's extremely put together as he whistles the "We Just Got a Letter" jingle from Blue's Clues that always gets stuck in his head because your daughter watches the show every morning. He's already dressed for the birth that might not even happen today — swim shorts for when he gets in the birthing pool with you and a faded graphic tee that looks like it has seen better days. His favorite blue baseball cap is snug on his head, covering his messy hair that curls upwards underneath. He looks casually gorgeous in the morning light.

After your tenth lap, you wander back to the kitchen and stand beside Harry as he drops two slices of bread into the toaster. He looks down at you and smiles.

"Hi," he says, leaning his hip against the counter. "Contraction over with?"

"For now," you reply dully. "I'm sure there'll be plenty more."

He jerks his chin toward the sink. "I want you to drink some water."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Please just drink one glass for me, baby," he says, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a jar of grape jam. "Let's not have a repeat of last time."

You roll your eyes and steal a cup from the drying rack. He clearly remembers when you vomited at the hospital just hours before giving birth. Yes, you were dehydrated, but that was the last thing on your mind.

As you sip cloudy tap water, you watch Harry silently spread jam onto his perfectly browned toast. He's been too quiet this morning — entirely cool, calm, and collected. You miss his delirious morning humor.

"You're scaring me."

Harry freezes with the butter knife in his grasp. "Didn't know your husband making breakfast was a fear of yours."

There it is!

"No, not that." You wipe off a glob of jam on his thumb. "You're just really relaxed right now."

Setting his toast on a plate, he turns to you with a crease between his eyebrows. "Should I be freaking out?"

"Well, I might give birth soon," you say, your heart rate increasing at the mere thought. "Doesn't that, I don't know, make you nervous?"

"Of course, I'm nervous," he replies, gently squeezing your shoulders. "I'm sure I'll be a hot mess once you're in full-on labor. I'm just enjoying the morning with you while you're still pregnant. You know… soaking it all in."

You release a shaky exhale, your mind spiraling as everything becomes more real the longer you talk about how you'll be a family of four very soon. "Okay," you whisper unconvincingly. "That makes sense."

Harry obviously doesn't buy it because he stares at you briefly before trapping your fidgeting hands with his own. "What's going on?"

"I'm freaking out," you admit weakly. Your voice wavers, and the lump in your throat is hard to swallow.

His face softens with sympathy as your eyes gloss over with tears. "Let's walk down to the shore," he suggests, kissing your forehead. "Just you and me before it gets crazy in here."

Sniffling, you ask, "What if I can't make it back to the house?"

"Then I'll carry you."

"Good luck with that," you mutter before grabbing your phone from the kitchen table. "Let's go while I have a break from contractions."

He nods, taking his plate and the baby monitor from the countertop, and then leads the way out the patio door.

During the short journey there, your heart blooms with fondness when you catch Harry smiling to himself as he walks, his tattooed arms swinging. It's too endearing not to keep as a permanent memory, so you open the camera on your phone and press record. The fresh air has rapidly lifted your mood, and you're thankful for it.

"What are you grinning about over there?"

Harry looks up and gives the camera a big, open-mouthed smile, pure excitement exuding from him. He's been waiting so patiently for another baby, and now it's slowly but surely becoming reality.

"What's got you so happy?" You laugh and stop recording.

He shrugs, still smiling contagiously. "I can't believe it's happening. It just hit me right now."

Both of you reach the sand and sit away from the lapping waves in case you have to head back to the house promptly. Harry places himself behind you, a position that's supposed to help when a contraction comes. You can hold onto his legs for leverage and support, and he can massage wherever you're hurting.

"I can't believe it either," you reply with a pensive shake of your head.

"Talk to me. How are you feeling?" Harry asks, taking a crunchy bite of toast. "Emotionally, I mean."

Talk to me. It's a three-word sentence he's been saying to you for years. He always wants to know how you're feeling whenever you bottle up your thoughts — anger, sorrow, or happiness. It has never changed, and it never fails to help immensely.

"I'm not as nervous as last time," you answer, closing your eyes when he starts playing with your hair. "I feel more prepared since I know what to expect, but it's terrifying that I'm doing it naturally this time."

He hums in acknowledgment. "That's completely valid. No one expects you to be a hundred percent confident when pushing a baby out, no matter how many times you've done it before. Just know that I'm eternally grateful you've grown two beautiful babies for us. You're a superstar."

"Thanks. I just feel like—" You gasp suddenly, your hand quickly shooting to your side as another contraction hits.

"Okay," Harry says soothingly, grabbing your hand so you can squeeze his own. He quickly unlocks his phone to set a timer. "It's okay. Breathe with me."

You inhale and exhale through the internal pain, the tight cramping making you lean back against his chest. "Harry, it hurts," you cry as your other hand grips his knee. "Ow, ow, ow."

"I've got you. Just breathe through it." He lifts the hem of your oversized shirt and spreads his hand on your stomach. It's stretched beyond belief and has dropped significantly throughout the past week. "Focus on my breathing, all right? And relax your shoulders. They're too tense."

You breathe with him as he massages your lower back. Your face is getting hot, and your throat is dry, but the only thing you can fully pinpoint is the penetrating pain.

"Tell me something. Please distract me."

Harry kisses your temple. "You look really pretty."

"Shut up," you mumble with a laugh that quickly turns into a groan of discomfort.

"I'm serious. I love how you look in the morning when the sun hits your face, like right now. It makes you glow even more than usual. And the way it brightens your eyes reminds me so much of our daughter." He turns your face so you're looking at him. "I see you in her all the time."

You smile weakly and rest your head on the dip between his neck and shoulder. "Yeah, but she has your bunny teeth."

His deep, comforting laugh vibrates against your back. "Mm, you'd be the one to notice that."

You just tiredly nod as the contraction subsides. You take a good guess that you're not close to labor yet because of how far apart and mild they've been so far. The midwife is only five minutes away, so there's no dire need for her to come and check on you.

"I think that one's done." You carefully sit up and release his hand. "How long was it?"

Harry checks his phone. "Forty-seven seconds."

"Short," you think aloud. "They've been irregular, so I think they might be Braxton Hicks."

He dramatically falls back onto the sand and spreads his arms out. "Does that mean no baby today?"

You snort and cuddle up next to him. "Soon. You have to be patient."

He's silent for a minute before asking, "Isn't sex supposed to induce labor?"

You scoff and swat at his chest. "I swear you asked me that last time."

"Oh, I definitely did. You rejected me and then literally didn't go into labor until a week later, remember? Should've listened to me."

"I don't think it would be enjoyable for either of us if we tried. I couldn't even walk down here without feeling like passing out."

Harry draws patterns on your belly with his finger, causing a response of fluttery kicks from the baby. "I know, I'm only joking. We don't have to be anywhere or do anything right now. Let's stay out here for a little bit, yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan," you mumble into his shoulder. The world around you drowns out like the shells under the waves as you focus on his heartbeat. The rhythmic thumping of your favorite part of him lulls you to sleep, his hand gently stroking your hair as time passes with each movement of the sun.

Your nerves wash away with each ocean tide, and you know everything will be all right.

——

7:03 PM

The tub is ready.

You are not.

Harry is already sitting in the circular birthing pool, shirtless and looking like he's ready to deliver the baby himself. You've changed into your swimsuit and are now vaguely listening to what the midwife is telling you as you lean against the wall and suffer through another contraction—a particularly strong one that indicates you're going to start pushing soon.

Your water has already broken, and you're not quite sure why you're waiting until the very last second to get into the tub, but nothing in your mind is making sense due to the overwhelming pain. The bedroom is too small, the lights are too bright, the way Harry's dotingly looking at you is too much, and your body feels too weak even though it's about to perform the most vigorous exercise imaginable.

"We need you in the tub so I can check your dilation," says the midwife, snapping you out of your overthinking spiral.

"I-I can't," you reply helplessly. "I don't think I can do this. I don't want to do this."

You regret not just sucking it up and going to the hospital so they can inject you with an epidural.

"I am going to do everything I can to give you a safe and smooth delivery process," she assures you. "Your husband is waiting for you. He's going to be your support system the entire time, okay? Do you trust him to do that?"

You frantically nod your head—you've never trusted anyone more. "The water will help with the pain," she adds with a kind smile. "It will relax your muscles and will feel very nice. Can you get in the tub for me? Harry will help you."

You look at him, seeing his slightly shaky hands beckon you closer. You swallow and take a deep breath before slowly approaching him. Equipment scatters the floor and the bed beside you—clean blankets, a tarp for the mess, towels, medical supplies, and a cup of ice.

Harry carefully helps you into the birthing tub, positioning you so your back is against his bare chest. Once you're situated in the lukewarm water, you focus on his heartbeat pounding double-time.

"I can't do this," you repeat as you slide your swimsuit bottoms off.

"Yes, you can," Harry says, kneading your shoulders. "It'll be so worth it. We'll have a baby boy or girl to hold tonight."

"I'm scared. What if something goes wrong? What if I can't handle the pain? What if I—"

"Hey," he scolds softly. "Please don't think like that. Remember last time? What did I tell you to do to distract yourself?"

"Count your tattoos."

"That's right. I've gotten quite a few more since then, so get to counting. Distract your mind from the pain. I'm not going anywhere."

You begin counting, starting with your name tattooed on his right thigh. You then grab his left arm and count all the small ones near his hand. The chrysanthemum on the inside of his wrist that represents your daughter's birth flower, along with her date of birth written in cursive underneath. There's also the outline of a wave representing his home with you in California, where you built your life together. They all mean something near and dear to his heart.

The midwife brings you out of your trance when she leans over the pool and checks your dilation as Harry peppers comforting kisses to the back of your head. "You're about eight centimeters," she tells you after a few seconds of uncomfortable inspection.

"I feel like I need to push," you say timidly. "I feel the baby really low."

"We need to wait until you're ten centimeters," she replies. "If you can just hold out a little longer, it'll be much easier to push, okay?"

You nod and let out a long groan when the contraction moves from your lower back to your pelvis.

"Do you want your ice?" Harry asks.

"Yes, please."

He reaches behind him and grabs the cup filled with chipped ice. You begin chewing on a piece to cool your body temperature and force your brain to focus on something else.

Several minutes pass, with Harry whispering loving encouragements as the midwife talks you through what's about to happen. She allows you to exert tiny pushes while applying pressure on your abdomen. Everything goes in one ear and out the other, but you know the moment is almost here. There's no stopping now.

"Do you still feel like you need to push, honey?" the midwife asks, checking your dilation again.

"Yeah. Am I ten centimeters yet?"

"Just about. I'm going to have you push now."

You turn your head and stare at Harry with wide eyes. He messily captures your lips with his, then moves them near your ear. "I'm right behind you. Whatever you need, just let me know. If you need me to get out or scream at me—anything at all."

You look forward when the midwife parts your legs and encourages you to push using all of your strength.

The first push is the most agonizing. Your head throws itself back on Harry's shoulder as you grit your teeth and contract what feels like every muscle in your body. The midwife counts to ten, the seconds dragging on like minutes. Your face is scrunched up tight, and your legs are tense in the water. Harry softly counts in your ear, taking your left hand in his.

Breathe out for three.

The second push feels like you're on fire and not in a good way. The aching, cramping, and stinging pain shooting all over your body is borderline unbearable. It's felt externally, internally, and everywhere in between. You let a cry escape your mouth as the pain strikes your lower abdomen in full force. Harry kisses your ring finger and sets your hand on his heart.

Breathe out for three.

The third push gets you the farthest. Your ringing ears distantly hear something along the lines of I can see the head, and you feel a sharp breath from Harry hitting your neck and a kiss behind your ear. When the midwife gets to number two, she pulls the head out. The burning sensation remains, but the most challenging part is out of the way.

Breathe out for three.

The final push is when you give every ounce of energy you have left, squeezing both of Harry's hands so tightly that you're afraid you might break his bones. You're told to give your strongest and longest push, your entire body rigid as you stop your breathing to make this the last one. Harry chants motivational words from behind you: They're almost here, you're doing so good, I love you.

Then, all at once, there's release.

Relief.

Remission.

You quickly pull your baby up from under the water and cradle them against your heaving chest. You're shivering from the adrenaline, your body feeling bizarrely empty.

"It's a girl!" announces the midwife as she wipes and rubs her down with a towel.

The tears immediately fall. You hear Harry let out a quiet sob as he buries his face in your neck with trembling lips. With his forehead pressed to your skin, he sniffles while the sound of your baby girl's cries fills the room.

"Would Dad like to cut the cord?"

Harry nods and palms his tear-filled eyes. She passes tiny surgical scissors over to him and stretches the umbilical cord, showing him where to snip. He carefully moves out from behind you and releases an emotional breath as he opens the scissors, but he drops them in the tub because of his shaky hands.

"Sorry," he says with a choked laugh. He picks them up and tries again, successfully cutting the cord. The midwife cheers and begins setting things up for the after-birth process.

You cradle the back of your baby's head and cry with unspeakable happiness. "Hold her," you tell Harry now that she's detached.

He reaches his hands out, and you carefully pass her squirming body over to him. He seems almost lost in a trance for a second, but when her cries die down instantly once her skin meets his, he looks at you with the most breathtaking smile.

She clings to him like a lifeline, her cheek squished against his chest and her tiny hands spread on his collarbones. "Look," he whispers to you with watery eyes. "Look at her."

"I know. She loves you already."

His gaze is now focused on you with an expression conveying so many emotions. You think he's never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you," he mouths.

Those two simple words are spoken with a heavy amount of sincerity. You know what they mean: Thank you for letting me be a father. Thank you for pushing through all the mental and physical changes again. Thank you for her.

You smile and blink back more tears. "All in a day's work."

Harry shakes his head as his eyes dance over your face. "You're the strongest person I know. I've never seen anything more incredible than what you just did."

"Thank you for helping me through it."

"I always will," he says while stroking your baby girl's back with his large hand. It almost engulfs her entire body.

"Are you insinuating we're going to have more babies?"

"You know I'd have a million with you. You're fuckin' perfect."

You lazily slap his arm. "Don't swear."

He leans in until his forehead touches yours. "Give me a kiss."

"Your lips are dry."

He licks his lips, and you meet his mouth. He hums and grins into the kiss, pulling away from you with a glint in his eyes. "I love you so much," he murmurs before glancing at his daughter. "Both of you. My heart beats for my girls."

"I love you."

A tiny hand suddenly hits Harry's mouth. He sputters a laugh and grabs it, kissing it repeatedly until she lets out a gurgle. He laughs in disbelief and hikes her up to smell her head, the baby scent being one of his favorite parts about having a newborn.

"Already a daddy's girl," you slur tiredly, exhaustion finally catching up to you.

He puckers endless kisses onto her head. "Think I'll keep you forever, angel," he tells her. "Is that okay? Hmm? Gonna be my snuggle bug when I need it the most?"

Her eyes remain closed, and her lips smack as she lets out a silent cry. You look at Harry and find him absolutely mesmerized by her. Every small movement she makes, every change in facial expression, every noise that comes from her—he's watching it all with proud eyes and a permanent smile.

No other man would you want as your husband. No other man would you want to be the father of your babies.

——

8:40 PM

It's been a little over an hour since you gave birth, and since then, you've been moved to the bed after being cleaned up. You've just finished breastfeeding and now lay with her in your arms as you try to fall asleep next to Harry. He's still making calls to his loved ones to tell them the news, and each time he does, he gets emotional all over again when the person on the other line gasps or screams with joy.

He's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, and part of his hair is held back with one of your daughter's pink butterfly clips. You're both running on empty but have never been more blissfully content as she sleeps, her body wrapped in a white swaddle and a baby beanie snug on her head.

The windows are open, letting the ocean breeze waft in and cool your body's dull ache. The midwife had been kind enough to bring you snacks, leaving ice water, a plate of crackers, and a bowl of strawberry yogurt for you on the nightstand. There was an instance when Harry asked for a spoonful of your yogurt, and when you fed it to him, some dropped onto your baby's cheek. You both broke into silent laughter until she got fussy from your movements. Or maybe it was from the cold dollop of yogurt on her sensitive skin. Either way, it was entertaining.

Now, you drift off beside him and feel the soft breaths of your baby girl on your breast as the linen curtains blow in time with the swelling waves meeting the shore.

"Are you awake?" Harry asks quietly after he ends another call.

"Barely," you whisper into his sleeve. It smells like heaven.

He kisses your temple and inhales deeply. "Just got off the phone with my boss. He says congratulations and to name her after him."

You release a laugh laced with drowsiness. "I don't think she'd appreciate being named after an ornery old man."

"True. That was the last call I needed to make, by the way." He scoots down the bed and gently nuzzles his head into your side. "Get some rest. I'll be quiet now."

"I don't want to miss anything," you say, even though your eyes have been involuntarily closing for the past ten minutes.

He lightly scratches up and down your arm. "She's sleeping, my love."

"I know, but what if she does something cute?"

"Then I'll wake you up."

"Promise?" Your eyes droop once again with overpowering fatigue.

"I promise." He seals it with a tender kiss on your shoulder. "You need—"

A knock on the bedroom door interrupts him and makes your head turn toward the sound. The knob jiggles for a few seconds before the door slowly opens with a creak to reveal your daughter standing there. She's holding her favorite blanket, her thumb tucked in her mouth. You assume Harry's mother must have just arrived and is letting her have some alone time with the both of you.

"Hi, lovebug," Harry says softly. "C'mere, we've got a surprise for you."

She cautiously shuffles over to the edge of the bed and inspects the sleeping bundle in your arms. "Did you have fun with grandma today?" you ask her.

She nods distractedly, her eyes still glued to the baby. Harry smiles and picks her up, setting her in his lap. "That's your baby sister," he explains. "You're officially a big sister now."

She looks at him. "Where?"

He lets out a breathy chuckle and shifts her closer to the baby. "Right here, sweetheart. She's sleeping, so you have to be quiet."

"Oh," she whispers. You and Harry exchange endeared smiles.

"Isn't she pretty?" you ask.

"Yeah." Her voice is still a whisper as she pokes the baby's fists. "So little."

"She is," Harry says with a sniffle. "You were once that little. You have no idea how perfectly you fit in my arms."

You kiss her cherubic cheek. "Do you want to hold her?"

She glimpses at Harry as if to ask for permission, and he nods his head in encouragement. He positions her between the two of you, and then you maneuver the baby into her arms while ensuring the head is supported.

The sight is something out of a dream. How attentive she is with her new baby sister, admiring her like a delicate flower, examining her closely like a beautiful specimen, gently touching her nose and puckered lips. She keeps looking at you and Harry when the baby wiggles or makes a noise, a look of pure innocence and curiosity that brings more heartfelt tears to your eyes.

You eventually peel your gaze away from her and find Harry staring at you. A tear falls from his bottom eyelashes, his nostrils flaring from residual emotions hitting him. Reaching over, you thumb away the teardrop and focus on the bay window. The sun has dived below the darkening horizon, allowing stars to faintly dot the sky. Cicadas buzz in nearby bushes, and the night tides of the ocean collide with the sand that will soon be illuminated by the moon.

It's quiet in the bedroom, with nothing but the sound of soft breathing and the occasional coo from the baby. Your family of three is now four, and you've never felt more full of love. The world around you is serene, just like it was during the sunrise before she came into the world.

California dusk has brought you an angel.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #dad!harry #dadrry #dilfrry #harry styles #adore-laur #california dusk

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gurugirl · 2 years

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How To Get Out of a Ticket*

Summary: You get pulled over by Officer Styles and you'll do anything to get out of a ticket. 2.7k words

Warnings: Officer Styles isn't nice and he's quite a (big) dick, smut, degradation, cheating, unprotected sex, mean Harry, power imbalance, you causing a mess in Officer Styles' backseat, NSFW, 18+ only

cop!harry masterlist

You weren't accustomed to driving on the left side of the road so you were trying your best to keep in your lane while searching for where the windshield wipers toggle would be as it began to lightly rain.

"Fuck!!!" You shout into the quiet car as you haphazard your way down the road. Your vacation to London started out perfectly and tonight was no different. You'd been able to meet up with friends you met at college and reminisce. It was your first time in the UK and your first time driving on the left side of the road.

You pressed the brakes as you came to a sharp corner, still searching for the toggle for the wipers to activate, it was difficult seeing out the rain-droplet-covered windshield. You slowed down too quickly, though as the car you were driving began to skid a little. When you'd regained control of the car you kept yourself at a slower pace while still reaching around behind the steering wheel to feel for the wipers toggle.

Suddenly there were lights flashing behind you and you realized you were being pulled over. Fuck fuck. This car didn't even belong to you. It was your friend's that you'd borrowed.

You pulled your car over to the side of the narrow street and the police vehicle behind you pulled in near your rear bumper.

After a few minutes of you taking deep breaths the police officer arrived at your window and tapped, motioning with his finger to open it.

You rolled your window down and planted a big smile on your face and tried to get your story straight in your mind, but telling the truth was probably going to the be the best way out of this.

When he leaned in, he shined a light into the car and asked you for your driver's license. His voice was deep and smooth. You couldn't make out his face just yet with the light shining at you.

You remained quiet until he leaned in again, handing your California ID back to you. He turned off the light and that's when you saw his handsome features.

"You were driving quite erratically back there. Care to explain what's going on?" He placed his elbows into your open window and ducked down enough to hear you, but with the rain and splashes that were dripping down into the car was distracting to you both.

"I am not used to driving on this side of the road. I'm so sorry!" You explained. The officer uncrossed his arms and dipped his face back down again to look at you.

"Let's go sit in my car. It'll be easier than standing out here in the rain."

You followed him to his car and got into the passenger seat where you tried explaining what'd happened but you were struck by how gorgeous this man was. You could see tattoos peaking out from the edge of his cuffed shirt along his forearm, his light green eyes taking in your own appearance, dark curls, now wetted with rain, sharp jawline...

You adjusted yourself in the seat in a way that allowed your skirt to ride up dangerously high, but not so that it would appear you'd done it on purpose. Maybe you could flirt your way out of this. Or who knows, maybe you could wind up getting lucky tonight after all, as that was your goal when you went out in the first place.

You didn't miss the way the officer looked down at your bare thigh and then back up to your eyes as you spoke about how you couldn't find the wiper toggle.

"When we're done here, do you think you could help me find the toggle? I know it sounds so dumb, but I just don't know where it is. I'm so dumb sometimes. I'm sorry officer." You smile up at him and bit your lip.

His face remained stoic and calm but he did allow his gaze to drop to your lips.

"I can take a look when we're done here. That car you're driving, is not registered to you, nor is it a rental. Who's vehicle is that?" He speaks with his eyes pinned on you.

"It's my friend's actually. I'd really like to avoid a ticket or anything at all if possible." You lick your lips and drag your eyes over his uniform and broad stature.

"And how would you avoid such a fate? I should be writing you a ticket right now." He cocked his head in wait for your answer.

"I'd be so thankful if you didn't. I don't know what I could do to avoid getting a ticket. Is there any way to talk you out of it?" You noticed his name tag pinned over the breast pocket of his shirt, Officer Styles.

"You should be thankful. But I don't accept bribes via talk. If you're plan is to talk your way out of it then you're out of luck." He furrowed his brows as you wiggled a bit in your seat, angling yourself toward him.

"I see. Well, Officer Styles, is there anything I can do if talk is off the table?" You gulp hard. You were really pressing your luck here. You could get thrown in jail for your behavior.

Officer Styles pulled his eyes from you and leaned forward toward where a black box sat on his dash. He flipped a metal switch down and the green lights that blinked along the front dimmed down and only one red light remained lit. He turned back to you and put his hand through his hair as he looked at your mouth then back down to your thighs, which were now quite exposed from the position you were seated in. When you saw his attention on your thighs you parted your legs a couple of inches in invitation, if he felt so inclined.

"I have something in mind. But I'll need you to comply fully. No talking back, no smart mouth, just do as I say and I'll let you go without a fine."

Your eyes widened and you nodded at him as he slid his warm palm over the inside of your thigh and upward into your skirt. You opened your legs further for his access as the officer turned his whole body toward you.

"Okay. Good." He pinched at your thigh as he told you the rules, "We're going to move into the back seat and you're going to ride my cock like the little slut you are. But if I hear one bratty thing come out of your mouth I'm not going to let you come. Instead, I'm gonna fuck your mouth raw until you can't see or speak. Understood?"

You nodded and squeaked out a whine. Officer Styles was so fucking hot and you were going to get fucked by him in the backseat of his police vehicle. His dominance was a turn on and you wanted to comply so he'd be pleased with you.

You both exited the car and climbed into his back seat. You were immediately being dragged across the seat into the officer's lap where he pushed his lips onto yours, licking at your mouth, causing you to open up for him. The kiss was frantic and hard and you whined again, feeling his hardness poke at your center. He flipped your skirt up and grasped onto your ass, squeezing incredibly hard making you moan into his mouth. You ground down over him and he tilted his hips upward allowing you more friction from his cock.

Suddenly Officer Styles grabbed you by your hips and moved you off of him and began undoing his belt and trousers, pulling them down just enough so that he could pull his thick cock out through the front opening of his briefs.

You waited patiently for him as you watched his hard cock sway with it's heavy weight. You couldn't wait to sink down on him and feel it inside of you.

"Alright, now climb back up. Gonna show you how sluts get treated when they try to bribe cops." He spread his legs and planted his feet flat on the floor of the backseat.

You climbed over him, feeling your panties already soaked. He was hot and bossy and his cock looked very delicious. When you'd settled over him he slid his fingers into the band of your thong and ripped at it, causing the fabric to fall away from you. Now your bare, wet pussy was nudged onto his his thick and wide cock. You rocked over him again, wanting to feel him against you.

He smacked your ass hard, causing a shocking sting to travel down over your body. It rocked you forward into him and you moaned. He did it again as he leaned into you and bit down over your bottom lip.

"Fuck, you're already so wet for me, aren't you? Needy little slut, needing to get fucked by a cop, huh? So, climb on. Let's see how much you can handle."

You let out a groan as you brought yourself up and held onto the officer's strong shoulders. He held his hard prick up to your hole and swiped around a bit, nudging his abundant head up to your clit and then back down to you dripping entrance. He sighed as you began to sink down over him and you moaned loudly at the feeling of the stretch.

You had to move up and down a bit to really get adjusted and to finally sink down over his entire length, but once you were seated firmly onto the officer's lap with his cock tucked firmly inside of you, he showed no mercy as he began fucking up into you, smacking his groin into you at each thrust.

Your mouth parted and you were being bumped up quite violently with the force of his cock inside of you, sliding through your walls and pushing into you so fucking deeply caused you to see Jesus Christ himself. You'd never been fucked like this before. His feet planted and thighs working his hips as they thrust, you could do nothing but take it.

"Fuck! Oh my god!" Was all you could get out before he smacked your ass again.

"Taking my big cock into your little cunt like a good slut." Officer Styles grunted out. You couldn't make much noise because air was being punched out of your throat each time he drilled himself up into you.

The slick sounds of your cunt being smacked into and Office Styles' occasional grunts and dirty words were the only noises filling his car.

When the officer slowed his pace after cursing you could tell he was on the verge of coming. His slower pace allowed you to moan and gasp at the repeated forceful intrusion of his long cock, reaching deep inside of your tummy.

"Mmm... Feels so good." You moaned and keened as your clit was dragging over the fabric of his briefs that he'd left on for ease, his slick cock poked through the opening of the front, buried deeply into your cunt.

His hands grasped at your thighs and he moaned when he looked down at where you two were connected, his girthy shaft disappearing into your pussy at each thrust.

"You've been a good little cock slut for me, so I'll let you come this time." He angled his hips upward sharply and you yelped at the pinch it caused inside of you. Officer Styles was too deep for you. Normally you'd have told whatever guy you were fucking that it was too much, but you wouldn't dare tell Officer Styles to stop. He was doing you a favor by letting you get out of a ticket and letting you come, so you wouldn't complain at how deep he reached and how it ached in your tummy when he thrust into you sharply like he did just then.

"Thank you, sir! I want to come. I'll be a good cock slut for you!" He rolled his eyes to the back of his head as he looked up toward the ceiling of his cop car. Seeing your drenched hole take him in was sending him over the edge too quickly and he needed to pace himself so you could come around him. He loved the feel of women coming around his cock, it made his own orgasm that much better.

"Then come. Fucking come on my cock. Let me see you." He brought his gaze to yours as he slurred out his words. He was losing his mind having you around him like this. He'd fucked many women, it wasn't hard in his position. Not only was he a man in uniform, but he was attractive and confident. He'd rarely ever been turned down. He got all the pussy he wanted, when he wanted it. On the regular. But he really enjoyed fucking your tight little pussy with your tiny skirt flipped up over your hips. You looked so good stuffed full of his cock.

The officer's sharp strokes up into you caused you more pain but it turned into euphoria paired with the friction your clit received from his briefs. You began to shake and moan loudly, your heart rate picked up and you threw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed through you violently. You dripped down over the officer's pants and over his briefs, soaking him all over and even onto the seat below. He'd need to change his briefs as soon as he got home before his wife saw the mess you'd caused.

He released his orgasm into you, coming when you squeezed over his cock with your pretty little whines and moans in his ears. Officer Styles groaned into the car when the force of his climax throttled him. He held you down on him as he came inside of you, whimpering his own curses and praises into your ears.

When your brain collected itself the officer smacked your thighs, "Up you go."

You shakily climbed off of him and watched as his come spilled out onto his pants and onto the seat of his car. You covered your mouth, eyes wide, hoping he wouldn't be mad.

"Goddamnit!" He shouted as he wiped over his pants and then looked at you. You didn't know it would be so messy, and it wasn't your fault that you dripped him out like that so you stayed silent, waiting for his next comment.

He grasped at your chin and shook his head, "Couldn't have been helped, could it? You're just a simple cock slut who didn't know any better. Here." He leans down and grabs your torn thong and stuffs it into your hands.

"Can't have my wife finding your panties in my car, now can we?" He chuckled and tucked himself back in before redoing his belt.

You take your wet panties and ball them up into one of your palms and try to open the door but it's locked from the inside.

"Hold on. I'll open up your door from the outside, just wait here." The officer steps out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind him before rounding his car and opening up your door.

"Now, you needed help finding the wiper toggle?" He says as you climb out.

"Yes. Please, if that's alright, sir." You follow him to your car and he scrunches himself into the tiny car and turns on the engine before easily finding the nob to turn on the windshield wipers. He points to where you find it, "Right here is the switch. Turn it toward yourself to increase the speed, away to decrease and turn off." He climbs out and motions for you to get back into your friend's car.

When you've sat into your seat, the officer is still standing there, holding onto the door, waiting for you to get situated. He watches you with a frown and leans over you to buckle you in.

"Not too smart are you? Now I've just potentially saved your life by buckling you in. You owe me. Take this." He hands a card to you and it's got his department info on it, along with his name and a number. Harry Styles.

"Thank you, officer. Again. For everything." He keeps his face hardened but you see the smallest edge of a smile creep onto his lips as he closes the door and walks back to his car, which you watch in your rearview mirror until he's completely out of your site and inside of his own vehicle.

Check-in*

Check out my masterlist if you enjoyed this

Xoxo

#cheater!harry #policeman!harry #cop!harry #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry fic #harry styles fan fiction #dom!harry #mean!harry

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moneymoneygreengreen · 3 months

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Satosugu fanfiction #2

(WARNING: slight 18+)

this is a headcannon/au so don’t take it seriously.

Satoru, the fluffy white haired boy with sunglasses on his face approached his two friends, Suguru and Shoko. They were both chatting with one another while leaning against a brick wall. When Satoru finally reached the two, he rose a hand up from his pocket with a short, “hey.”

Suguru responded with a “what’s up,” meanwhile Shoko gave a small nod of welcome with the cigarette hanging from the side of her lips.

“Hey, Suguru?” Satoru started while turning his head over to the gorgeous black haired boy. “Do you want to go to that one Italian joint that’s around ///////// after classes? It’s my treat,” Satoru added. “I heard they have pretty good stuff over there.”

Suguru’s lips expands into a warm, soft smile and he answers with a, “I would love to!”

Satoru smiled back but it was more of a grin. “Great! It’s a date then!” He turns around and darts off.

Shoko took a drag from her cigarette and frowned playfully. “Awe, I want to come too! I’d love to see what you and your”- she made air quotes -“boyfriend does when you both go out~” she let out a little chuckle as Suguru punched her arm softly.

///

At around 5:23 pm, Satoru walks with Suguru. The two of them were talking together all day long. Soon enough, Satoru lead Suguru to a shiny, white, brand new Koenigsegg. Satoru grabs the keys from his pockets and presses a button to unlock the car.

Suguru looked at Satoru with an eyebrow raised. “Wait a minute, you never told me you had a car? Let alone, I never knew you could drive!” Satoru chuckled and he says, “That’s because I just got the car today! And uh- I taught myself how to drive.” Suguru grew a bit uneasy but Satoru immediately added, “But don’t worry, I’ve got my drivers license.” Suguru breathed out slowly, glad to hear that.

Satoru Opened the passenger’s door of the Koenigsegg and murmured, “after you.” To Suguru before getting onto the other side of the sports car and getting in.

///

During the 30 minute drive, the two were listening to Taylor Swift and Katie Perry. And singing along to it…

“…California girls, we’re unforgettable! Daisy Dukes bikinis on top…”

They laughed and sung together all the way until they had both reached the Italian restaurant.

When they had reached the restaurant, Satoru had parked the car somewhere in the parking lot and hopped out of the car. He went to the passenger side door where Suguru was sitting and opened the door for him as if he was a princess. “Here you go, your highness~” He teased as Suguru climbed out of the car. the two walked into the restaurant together and took a seat at a booth. It was silent for a moment. Perhaps a little two silent that it was getting a bit awkward. So, Satoru decided to spark up a conversation.

“So, uh… Suguru. Where do you want to go see a movie film after this? I have a movie in mind!” He says. Moving a bowl of food to the side.

Suguru was leaning back against the seat he was in with both of his hands in his lap. “Mmm, sure! What kind of movie is it?” He asked

Satoru answered what movie it was going to be and told him what genre it was. Suguru seemed to be amazed at the movie idea and nodded. “That sounds great! Yeah I’m totally down!” Suguru said.

Satoru grinned. “Well then let’s get going,” he gets up from the booth chair.

Suguru looked from Satoru standing up and straightening out his clothes to the table. “Ummm, aren’t we going to pay?” He asked, his voice lowering a bit in concern. “why would we when we can just go? I just don’t feel like paying.” Satoru said before grabbing Suguru’s arm. “Let’s just go before we get caught!” And he raced off to the door with Suguru trailing behind.

///

While the movie was playing, the two friends were sitting in the car looking at the film like old school, typical teenage men. They were eating popcorn and drinking soda.

Satoru heard Suguru laugh at a scene. He turned his head to look at him. Satoru’s vibrant blue eyes shimmered as they explored Suguru’s beautiful laughing face. The way his eyes closed as tears welled up in them while chuckling softly. He couldn’t believe he just found out how beautiful and handsome his friend was. He gulped as a little bit of red shone on his cheek. Suguru’s slight grin closed back up into a smile as the scene on the movie turned to something else. He can feel Satoru looking at him and slowly glanced at him. He giggled softly before turning his full face to Satoru and kissed his lips before Satoru can turn away.

Satoru was a bit surprised but he closed all six of his eyes and lead into the kiss. His elbow coming off of the windowsill to grab onto Suguru’s back as he kisses him back.

after a nice long minute of them kissing, they slowly, and reluctantly pulled away from each other. A thin line of saliva hanging from each other’s tongues before finally breaking apart. Satoru licked his bottom lip before curling his lips into a smirk and chuckling softly. “W-wow, never expected that…” He mused.

Suguru looked up into Satoru’s glasses and smiled, “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d have the balls to do it…”

Satoru pushed his glasses up onto his head. “Well… can you do it again…?” He asked. And Suguru kisses Satoru again.

this time, their tongues started to explore each other’s mouths a bit and the two started rubbing each other’s backs a lot more. “got damn it, Suguru…” Satoru exclaimed as Suguru swiftly breaks the kiss and lowers his head down to give Satoru’s neck and collarbone small kisses. He takes time unbuttoning Satoru’s shirt and continues to tease Satoru’s neck with licks, kisses and bites. once he took the first three buttons of Satoru’s shirt out, he starts to kiss him on his chest and then down to his torso and well-marked abs. Then finally, once Suguru’s kisses reached Satoru’s pants, Suguru looked up at Satoru. Silently asking if it was okay…

Satoru’s face was extremely flushed and he had the back of his hand up to his mouth but he nodded a yes.

with that, Suguru smirked and his eyes darkened slightly as he opened his mouth to bite on the large hard bulge on Satoru’s pants. “I can’t wait to see what you taste like…”

///

In the morning, Satoru wakes up to find himself naked in the backseat with Suguru also naked but sleeping soundly on Satoru’s chest. He looked like a beautiful sleeping angel… Satoru smiled. He couldn’t believe he just had sex with his best friend—- and he was surprised Suguru accepted himself to be dominated so easily. (“Someday… I swear, I’ll marry you…”) Satoru swore to himself before staring up at the ceiling of the car. “I swear it…”

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x geto #satosugu #jujutsu kaisen #gay #jjk smut

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strawbs-screaming · 7 months

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☆ How The Boxers Drive ☆

made this bc evil (im running out of excuses) this has been rotting in my queue for a while now

Glass Joe

- Really paranoid, i dont blame him cars are really flammable

- will panic if even one scratch gets on his car

- Just really careful with where he parks & when he parks

- if anything suspicious is on his windshield he'll panic because what if its used to mark him for something

-you know how moms go "slow down your gonna crash!!" if you speed up while driving? Yeah thats him

Von Kaiser

- unhinged driver, he'll go 50 kilometers a hour with the most bored expression ever

- put on your seatbelts because he loves to take sudden turns

- you have to hold on for dear life to anything because he doesnt understand what the words "slow down" means

- do not turn on the lights, just dont or he'll literally hiss at you

- driving like hes in a police chase, damn peepaw slow down

Disco Kid

- blasting his ears out + also going ridiculously fast

- you better hope the radio stops after a crash or you'll die to california girls

- doesnt do sudden turns thankfully

- drives even faster at nighttime, disco is really out for blood

- dont even bother honking at him, he cant hear you over his 92827298272 hour playlist

King Hippo

- he cant drive, what are you all on

- no literally, even if he could find a car to fit him, he still wouldnt be able to operate it

- too overwhelming for him anyways

- He gets carsick too easily

Piston Hondo

- actually responsible & obeys traffic laws (LIKE A LOSER!! BOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO RUN OVER PEOPLE INSTEAD!!)

- cant listen to music while driving, it just doesnt work for him

- if you honk at him he'll stare into your soul

- actually reading the road signs (LIKE A NERD!! BOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO THE LAW SUCKS)

- overall responsible driver

Great Tiger

- another driver from hell

- honks to communicate with people, at some point you'll have to consider ripping off the steering wheel or your ears

- blasting his music, he has damaged hearing because of that

- speed limits are for cowards,he'll gladly go 100 in a 30 zone

- reading road signs but not caring at all

Bear Hugger

- oh no.

- okay driver but wont shut up, bear we get it you shouldnt piss off or piss ON a moose you couldve ended it there

- eating snacks in the backseat makes him do the ultimate dad move™ (the hand thingy dads do when you eat snacks)

- "yeah you can push those to the side make yourself comfortable" as his backseat is filled with maple syrup bottles, a pair of moose antlers and the weirdest shit you can imagine, bear im really sure you dont need a entire ass stop sign

- doesnt speed but takes sudden turns way too often for your stomach to stay in one piece (can we get much higherrr, so highhh)

- also honks to communicate

Don Flamenco

- this fucking menace needs to be stopped

- He sings in the car, Don nobody needs to hear you sing poker face please dont crash

- unintentionally speeding, always 5 km over the speed limit

- holy shit he needs his license taken away

- He texts while driving, how worse can you get??

- you know "get in loser, we're going shopping."? yeah thats him whenever he comes to pick someone up

- Does more singing than driving

Aran Ryan

- wait what

- He actually obeys traffic laws & is okay with speed limits? What a switch

- He knows how to shut up too

- He may be a nuisance but he keeps it off the road because nuh uh no one is dying in a car crash today

- has sobbed in his car multiple times (mostly while driving) thats the most you can get him

- him & his car have been through thick and thin, he has laughed in that car, cried in that car, screamed in that car, sung in that car, he has went through everything with his car, it legally counts as an artifact

Soda Popinski

- license, on the kitchen table, NOW.

- he used to drive when drunk when he was a alcoholic (hence his past name, vodka drunkenski)

- doesnt use any kind of navigation when driving, he uses his gut feelings & they either: work, fail miserably or have you end up in a seperate country and either way its concerning

- has crashed into multiple signs & trees

- speeds when bored

- oh my god this man is a mess

Bald Bull

- calm the fuck down

- same deal as kaiser, unhinged driver with the most bored expression ever while asking you "how was your day?" like dude please slow down

- hes the reason the term road rage exists

- will gladly get out of the car to fight someone

- honking at him is a one way ticket to fucking die - land

- i hope awkward conversations are your thing because he'll try to do a icebreaker and ask stuff

- keep the lights off unless its the night or he'll chuck you out of the car like you're a McDonald's™ napkin

Super Macho Man

- jail.

- hes driving on the sidewalk. DRIVING ON THE SIDE FUCKING WALK.

- drives even if hes tired

-suprisingly brash with his car considering it costs a fortune

- He didnt hit the street lamp, it hit him

- blasting the worst music ever as he goes through a quiet neighborhood at 3 am

Mr Sandman

- oh my god finally a good driver

- hes a law abiding citizen

- hes the only one allowed to drive

- the only thing you can get him on is slamming his car door a little too hard but thats better than going 92827281962629912619916281972729229 in a 30 km zone or stopping halfway through to fight someone

- will not talk, ever.

- hes the first option when the wvba needs to ride somewhere and cant find a driver

#punch out #headcanon #punch out wii #punch out headcanons #don flamenco #bald bull #piston hondo #glass joe #aran ryan #great tiger

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moregraceful · 2 months

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Stayed up incredibly past my bedtime last night for many reasons both good and bad, but now I'm suffering....but I do have fic for WIP Wednesday

Also pls note that I will add diacritics, I just usually do a find + replace at the end of doc bc the way I have to do diacritics on an American keyboards fucks with the flow of writing

What if I was a goalie...and YOU were a goalie...what if we were BOTH goalies....in the desert

;;

Philipp has all the goalies, rookies, rostered, invites, all, over to his house for a barbecue that he has catered. Chris makes merciless fun of him when he gets there early to help Philipp set up; Philipp smiles at him like he wants something from Chris, and Chris can kind of guess what, but then the doorbell starts ringing.

Ales spends a lot of time badgering Chris about Coachella at the party. Is it warm, what is the food like, where does he live, what is the team like, what size are the cars, how are the fans, what is California like, how far away are they from Seattle, what is it like, how does it all fit together, where does Christ fit in, where will he. Philipp watches from the other side of the yard, drink in hand, and even though he’s surrounded by kids destined for the ECHL, he still raises his glass to Chris. Good luck, he mouths.

Chris and Ales get sent down shortly after, surprising absolutely no one. Joey looks hurt, somehow, when Briere tells them all in a meeting, all the goalies left at the end of camp, who is getting sent down and where. Like Joey really thought he could keep Chris with him. Chris wonders where the kid gets it. Joey’s too old to think that he can play with his friends if he’s good enough to the world around him.

Ales and Chris go to the desert. Philipp and Joey stay in Seattle. Chris drives Ales and Marian down from Seattle to Palm Desert in his SUV and learns 50 new Czech and Slovak insults in a day and half. They don’t stop anywhere for the night; no time. Him and Marian switch off driving, since Ales doesn’t have an American driver’s license, and Marian is a trooper, doesn’t complain at all.

Late night driving through some fuck ass part of the Central Valley, when the car is quiet except for a playlist Philipp made for Chris playing in the background and Marian snoring in the backseat, Chris glances at Ales. Ales had tasked himself with keeping the two of them awake at night, but he’d been silent for so long that Chris wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

Ales has his face pressed to the window. Chris clicks his tongue to get his attention. Ales looks over. He looks fascinated.

“I have never seen so many cows in one pen,” he says.

Chris pulls off at a rest stop to stretch his legs; four hours left in the drive and Marian is passed the fuck out in the third row. He gets out of the car and Ales follows him to a picnic table under fluorescent lights.

He’s wearing a Kraken jersey Chris lent him for the drive. It has Chris’s old number on it. Chris feels something curl tight in his chest at the sight.

He sits across from Ales at the picnic table. Ales hands him some weird Pacific Northwest stimulant drink that’s supposed to fuck with your gut less than Red Bull. It tastes like flat carbonated water, but Chris has to admit it has not yet given him stomach upset.

Chris takes it and cracks it open. He drinks half of it, making a face, before handing it back to Ales.

Ales actually likes that kind of PNW granola shit, is the problem. He’s a good culture fit. Philipp had whispered it in Chris’s ear when he hugged him goodbye; take care of the guy, he’s a good fit for the franchise, just like you.

Chris sits across from Ales. He studies Ales: the laugh lines around his eyes, his strong jaw, his thinning hair that he doesn’t gel outside of game days, sticking out from under Chris’s hoodie. He looks at Ales’s hands, his strong fingers, his thick wrists. His knees bump against Chris’s because the picnic table is small.

Ales looks back. Whatever he sees in Chris makes him smile.

#unfortunate birdcage fanfictions

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webtrinsic1122 · 6 months

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Allison’s JetSki facts for Fanfics that I think people will find helpful!

*Disclaimer I’m not going fully into depth with any of these, but I’ll try my best to point out what stuck out to me after riding them ever since I was a little kid all the way up until I got a boating license to drive and take care of them all on my own. -Must also inform you I’ve only ever rode and drove SeaDoo brand Jetski’s - and got a boating license when I lived in California four years ago - so for fanfics maybe check your laws when it comes to your state, and find out what brand of jetski your writing about because my experience may differ.

(Also I’m mainly doing this because Jetski’s appearances in Loki but if this helps other fandoms or fics and such please enjoy!)

• I’m starting this off with Jetski’s are varying types of sturdy plastic/fiberglass/and carbon fiber - they are not metal. (I’ve seen a few fics so far of ppl describing the texture and such as metal and I promise it does not feel that way and it’s not metal at all.) - it is more thin-feeling plastic on the exterior bits and a much harder durable plastic on the undercarriage. (The seat and more “plush”accents [small spot in the middle of the handles] feel a mix of pleather with the texture of a basketball)

• Speaking of the undercarriage of the Jetski, there’s a sticker at the bottom that instructs you on what to do if you flip a jetski! -it mainly is just standing on the corner of one end and using your weight to turn it back over.

•You must be asking Allison how does one flip a jetski? I’ll tell you! Jetski’s are very fast and sleek, which makes you want to pull very sharp turns, which you can sometimes pull off but do not be surprised if you can’t - and this very well may topple the Jetski.

• Sharp turns is not all that will flip you, Jetski’s do have a recommended amount of passengers. Three grown adults is doable, but not recommended if you’re in a higher weight class and you also plan to do quick maneuvers. But otherwise, the ideal amount of people on a jetski for good maneuverability is two!

• Don’t worry too much about flipping a Jetski but keep it in mind because Jetski’s are heavy - mine alone with a full tank of gas where pushing 800 pounds and those models where fairly new. Not as new as the one seen in Loki but only a few years off so I’m assuming that one is much of the same in weight.

• In cases of flipping or even being thrown off (I’ve legit been thrown off and I was driving while my cousin behind me did not) if you’re behind the driver the seats have straps to hold onto.

⬆️CAUTION: these straps are thin and it’s not recommended you even stick your fingers fully under them, just your fingertips, because with the amount of force you go flying, you may very well lose your fingers.

• So when holding on while riding if you are a passenger, either tend to those small straps with your finger tips or place your arms on the drivers hips! - BUT PASSENGERS DO NOT LEAN INTO TURNS LIKE THE DRIVER MIGHT- THIS CAN FLIP YOU OR MAKE THE DRIVER OVER DO IT IF YOU MOVE THEM ACCIDENTALLY

• jetski’s run by pulling in water and propelling it out! Because of this, Jetski’s cannot be driven in shallow places. In case you do there is something inside called a wear-ring, it is built to break in case things get sucked in. (Trust me I’ve broken a wear ring before and it all I can say is a jetski sounds angry when this happens)

• above this motor is a pull down bar, so if you happen to get in the water, you have an easy way of climbing back onto your jetski (when it’s off obviously - please don’t try getting on behind a jetski when it’s on or if u are make sure it’s on idle)

• Jetski’s have little or big compartments depending on the model, one under the handle bars, and a bigger one in the front hood. This is excluding the space under the seat where the engine sits - do not store stuff with the engine unless you want to kill your jetski.

• in these compartments you should have a small anchor for your jetski, and as laws have increased, you should have your boater license on you, because trust me jetski’s do get pulled over a lot; and do you want to know why cause I will tell you bluntly; lots of people who ride jetski’s ignore the safety rules and get people killed or seriously hurt because of it.

• So I’m going to explain some of those rules for you! When you bring a jetski out, you’ll see the wake line (normally a line of buoys that will legit till you go 5 mph) That means go 5mph in that area as it’s for swimmers and boats to safetly move near one another to get out into where they can go fast.

(Idk how to even describe the thrill it was being young and going that long trek to the buoy line of 5mph and my dad immediately jumping to top speeds the second we were safe to do so!)

•Different color buoys have different meanings, this I will not explain as it’s been some time since I’ve been on the water but please do look these things up if you plan to go boating. Some buoys are colored as warnings!

• We all see the lines of waves other boats leave in their path, those are wakes and legally you are not supposed to cross those unless you feel you are a hundred feet back from the boat that made them. You do not want to cross someone’s wake close to them, it’ll save you from crashing because other boats are unpredictable.

(It legit is terrifying with how many jetski ppl try to cross other ppls wakes - especially other jetski’s- while being all too close. Seen way too many close calls that could have been fatal.)

• DO NOT RIDE YOUR JETSKI AT NIGHT IT IS AGAINST THE LAW AND DANGEROUS. Jetski’s do not come with lights therefore they are not safe to operate at night. (My sister lost a friend to this and it’s all too common a way to die on a jetski.)

• Jetski’s are mainly made for lakes not the ocean! That isn’t so say you can’t ride them in the ocean, you very much can, it’s just salt water is a immensely degradable substance that can ultimately affect the lifespan of your jetski. So finding a good lake is the best way to go.

•Anytime you use a jetski, after the fact you must throughly wash it ALL. That means running water through it and the motor to effectively clean everything out. This is an environmental law, and when you bring your jetski to any lake it will be inspected before it may come in! (I suggest watching a YouTube video of the process if you really want to go into it)

•if you’ve noticed when unloading a jetski, jetski’s on a trailer are normally facing your vehicle! This is because jetski’s have a reverse option much like a car, it’s usually a lever on the handle much like the break for a bike!

•jetski’s come with special keys, a normal and learners key mainly - though that depends on what you buy; those are just the standards we got when we first bought ours. The learners key will not allow the jetski to go as fast as the normal but trust me you probably won’t notice it still goes fast.

•Highly suggest these keys are connected to your life vest (WHICH YOU SHOULD BE WEARING AT ALL TIMES) because if you happen to go flying or fall off, the key will immediately turn off the engine.

•if you so happen to fall in and the jetski keeps going forward and is still running DO NOT STAY WHERE YOU ARE so due to some kind of physics or whatever (not sure how to explain this but I legit remember the hour long lecture I had to watch in boating school for this) Jetski’s will turn around on their own and come back. If you’re in the same spot, you will get run over. So boot out of the way as fast as you can. If the jetski doesn’t turn and comes to a complete stop in whatever trajectory it went off in, you can approach and get back on.

• For environmental safety you are not supposed to fill up the gas of a jetski on the water or at the dock or anything. Take your jetski’s to the gas station before hand, yes it’s tedious and hard to do with a trailer but it’s much safer and better for the environment than you somehow spilling gas into the water.

• For the safety of your skin, in that little compartment keep some sunscreen, you burn twice as fast and bad on the water as the sun is reflected off the water and back up at you.

• The day after, no matter how much you ride jetski’s normally, your thighs will hurt and ache. Riding a jetski is basically straddling something large enough to force your legs apart- and it does this for long periods of time. Even if you’re someone who drives standing, the width you hold your legs apart is barely natural. So expect some sore legs.

•Be observant and calculating, you need to always be scanning as other ppl likely do not know what they are doing, and it’s not like the roads where you have lanes. People will try to get in your space, you need to constantly know where the people around you are.

• That also goes for the water. Jetski’s come with a flag (I’m sorry I can’t recall if it’s red or white and I keep seeing different versions) but if you see someone waving a flag- stop your vehicle. It means someone is in the water! BEWARE.

• If you decide to have fun towing someone behind your jetski, you cannot be alone. You absolutely must have someone behind the driver, seated at the end of the jetski backwards - holding to the straps or small handle there- watching the tow. That person is in charge of the flag lest who you’re towing falls off.

(This one is more so a seadoo company fact rather than a full on jetski fact, but when they release new jetski’s they only release it in two colors at that time - so we bought two the same year and got the only two colors at that time which had been orange and blue - so if you’re writing about seadoo specifically I’d look up the colors and years of whatever model your talking about)

It’s very easy to get caught up in the fun of riding a jetski, and it’s a great experience truly it is, but there’s also a lot to look out for. Because at the end of the day it’s still a vehicle, not a toy.

It’s quite the responsibility but if you’re up to it, they’re a lot of fun to have. These are just some of the things that came to mind, and I’m not sure how helpful this will all be. But I’ll be sure to add more if I come up with anything else.

#fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction #seadoo #loki show #jetski #mobius #lokius #trigger words

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drabbles-mc · 8 months

Text

Fresh Start

Gabriela Castillo x Nacho Varga

For the loveliest @hausofmamadas as part of the Rare Pair Exchange!

Warnings: 18+, language, blood/injury, light angst

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I just really really love that I got to write these two together. I love them. I adore them. No one can take them from us, Kay. The braincell is alive and well. 😌

Niche Crossover Taglist: @narcolini @garbinge @withmyteeth @justreblogginfics @cositapreciosa

He’d driven until the car gave out. Then he walked until his legs had done the same. He had no idea where he was—somewhere in California he was pretty sure based off all the license plates he’d seen while he was on the road. Where in California? He couldn’t even hope to guess. Everything looked the same in the dark anyway.

He hadn’t shown up to the diner because he was hungry, although underneath all the pain and exhaustion he was sure that hunger was there somewhere. But it was one of the only places that had lights on, one of the only places that seemed like it was open and also maybe even a little bit safe.

He collapsed before he got his hand on the door, crumpled right into a heap on the sidewalk. He was fighting to keep his eyes open, fighting even harder to try and say something, maybe even call for help. It was like his voice had stopped working, and he didn’t know if that was because everything in his body was shutting down, or if it was because he’d gone so long without speaking that he’d nearly forgotten how to.

When she appeared in his narrowing field of vision, he was certain that it meant he was dying. There was no way that she wasn’t an angel sent there to take him to whatever was next for him. He could just barely register the warmth of her hands on his face. He saw the way her lips moved, but he couldn’t hear what she was actually saying. He tried to look at her for as long as he could before his body gave into the exhaustion and everything went black.

Gabriela knew better than to try and patch up a man who needed far more than just bandages and stitches from her. She knew so much better. That was the whole reason she found herself at the complete opposite end of California from where she’d started just a few short years ago. And yet, when she saw him go down outside the door of the diner, she couldn’t stop herself from rushing to his side. If she didn’t try, then what was the point of any of it?

Once she took in the sight of him, she knew that it was going to be more than just a caring act from a good Samaritan if she helped him. There was a familiar knot in her gut that told her that this man, whoever he was, whoever he ended up being, didn’t just turn up outside the diner because he got lost on a long drive.

Pressing her ear to his chest, she listened intently for a heartbeat, relief coursing through her when she heard it. She managed to get him back to consciousness, but barely. He was beyond out of it, not that she expected anything better than that.

“Come on,” she said, her voice quiet but strong, “we have to get you help.”

If she had still been the same woman she was a few years prior, she would’ve called 911. But she wasn’t so naïve anymore. Some things, she’d learned, you just don’t call the cops about. And even though she didn’t have all the details, or any details, really, she had the feeling deep in her gut that this was going to be one of those things.

Going through motions that felt far too familiar for comfort, she draped his arm over her shoulders before looping hers behind his back. He was able to contribute just enough to the efforts to get himself off the ground, but Gaby was doing most of the legwork once they were up. It wasn’t pretty, or graceful, but she managed to get him to her car and somehow into the passenger seat.

He was fading in and out the whole time, still half-convinced that the woman in the driver’s seat beside him was some manifestation of the grim reaper, there to usher him into the next life by speeding down backroads in her beat-up coup.

When she got him into her apartment and laid out on the couch, he passed out again. She expected that, just glad that she didn’t have to try and half-carry him anywhere else for the time being. He had one arm dangling off the edge of the sofa, the backs of his knuckles resting against the floor. Both his legs were on the cushions, but barely. She looked at him, trying to see past the dirt and dried blood. She was looking for anything fresh, anything that could actively be killing him.

Taking a deep breath, she ran her hands back through her hair before starting to carefully undo the buttons of his shirt. Most of the blood on it seemed dried, but she wanted to be sure. When the shirt fell open, she saw the white a-tank that he had on beneath. There was more blood staining that, but it still looked like most of it was dried. She lifted the bottom hem of the tank top, just enough to confirm that any injuries that he was dealing with, any cuts or gashes, were old enough to have begun to scab over.

She frowned as she looked him over, all the bruises that littered his abdomen. There was nothing fresh that she could see, so her assumption that what got to him was the exhaustion. Whatever blood he lost combined with the fact that he probably hadn’t stopped to rest or eat or drink much of anything in longer than any person should’ve.

There wasn’t much more that she could give him at this point. She thought about getting a cloth with some warm water and soap to start at least cleaning off his face. As she looked at him, it crossed her mind that it probably wouldn’t wake him up. There wasn’t much that would cause him to stir at this point.

Her movements were gentle, the way that they always were. She dragged the washcloth across his forehead, his cheekbones. Each swipe took away another layer of dirt, of sweat and blood that had dried and tried to etch itself into his skin. The small snake earring dangling from his ear moved each time the cloth cleaned away another layer. The frown on her face softened the more she cleaned him up. She knew that she shouldn’t build out a life for him before she’d even heard him speak, but her mind couldn’t help but to wander.

When she’d cleaned off his face as best she could, she stood up and pried herself away from him. She tossed the rag straight into the trash, the sinking feeling that no matter how much bleach she used, she would never see it as clean again. She took a quick shower, just enough to feel like she’d rinsed off the day. She threw her clothes into her hamper, pulling on an old t-shirt and shorts to sleep in. Part of her knew that she could just sleep in her bed and that she would most likely wake up before the man passed out in her living room, but it felt wrong to try and do so. Grabbing a pillow and the blanket off her bed, she went back to the living room and curled up on the chair beside the couch, the one that was usually reserved just for reading.

The sun hadn’t fully crept up over the horizon when Gaby came to. The light coming through her apartment windows was minimal, gray. She didn’t even want to check the time, didn’t want to involuntarily do the math to see how little sleep she’d gotten.

Then she realized what had pulled her from slumber so soon. The events of the night before all came rushing back to her, her eyes widening slightly as she turned and looked over at her sofa. She was expecting to see the man still passed out, but he wasn’t. He was sitting upright, looking just about as confused and unsettled as she felt in that moment. His hands gripped tightly onto the edge of the couch cushion as he watched her.

“Hi,” she said, her voice soft from sleep, but it also had the caution someone would use when trying to soothe an injured animal. Anything to make sure that they didn’t get hurt if it tried to lash out.

“Hi.”

“I didn’t know where to bring you,” she started to explain. “You…you passed out at my job last night.” She twisted her fingers into her blanket as she nodded towards the bloodstains on his clothes. “I, um, I didn’t know what happened, so I didn’t call anyone.”

He looked down at himself, brows knitting when he took in his actual state. “Right. Um. Thank you.”

“I’m Gabriela.”

His eyes wandered back up to her face. “Nacho,” the name came out before he could think better of it.

As soon as he heard what he’d said, he closed his eyes, chin tucking down towards his chest. He knew better than that, but the name rolled off his tongue before he could think of it. It was hard to lie to someone who had a face and eyes as kind as Gaby did. It was too late to take it back now. Trying to fumble and recover somehow would only put himself deeper into the hole he’d just dug.

There was a tiny lift to the end of Gaby’s mouth as she looked at him. There was something vaguely familiar about him even though she knew for a fact that she hadn’t ever met him before. Maybe it was just the look in his eyes. Something that reminded her of a life that she’d left behind.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, a small air of amusement in her tone.

It was just enough for Nacho to be able to catch it, enough to get him to look back over at her. He wanted to make some remark to the effect of, “It might be too soon to be saying things like that,” but he was painfully aware that he wasn’t in the position to be shooting down any spare kindness that anyone was willing to give him.

“You too.”

Nacho kept meaning to leave. He knew that he should. Whoever this girl was, whatever life she’d had for herself before he came tumbling into it, he knew that he didn’t deserve to be any part of it. The hours ticked by and it turned into a day. One day turned into two. After four days he forgot to keep counting. But he meant to leave. He really did.

Gaby never did get around to asking him where he came from, what had happened to him that landed him in a heap on the sidewalk outside the diner. Sometimes she wanted to. When she would see him freeze up at headlights coming in through her apartment windows, when his head would snap towards the sound of someone knocking on the door of the other apartments that she shared a hallway with. People didn’t end up like that because things for them had gone well. Sometimes when things were quiet, and good, and he was helping her cook dinner at the end of a long day, she thought about asking him about all of it. But it just never felt right enough. Maybe that was the lingering strands of naivety that she hadn’t managed to grow out of.

There was never a conversation about him leaving. There was never one about him staying, either. He just did. That first night after they’d introduced themselves, Gaby made a comment about the fact that the couch pulled out into a bed, and that was the end of it. She’d come out in the morning and it would be restored to its former glory, blanket and pillows stacked at the very end of it. Neat as they’d ever been. But they never talked about it.

Most of those first couple weeks were just them existing together in surprisingly comfortable silence together. That, or Nacho would listen to her talk about what happened at work. She’d get home late from her shifts at the diner, but he was almost always still up.

“I had to give him stitches,” she said with a shake of her head, wrapping up a story about one of the cooks slicing his finger open.

“Stitches?” Nacho repeated back. “You know how to do that?”

She chuckled softly as she got a glass of water for herself. “Of course I do.” She walked over, taking a seat next to him on the couch. “I used to be a nurse.”

The explanation didn’t do anything to sate his curiosity. “Used to be?”

That was the first time he saw real sadness cross Gaby’s face. It felt like it sent a real, physical pang of hurt through him to see her like that. He wanted to take the question back, tell her to forget that he ever asked. But it was too late—she was already telling him what happened. Honest in a way that he could never even hope to be.

“I used to live on the border,” she said, looking down at the glass of water in her hands, “and then I moved to Lodi for nursing school. I worked there for a little while after I graduated. Things got…bad, dangerous. The person I cared about the most wasn’t who I thought he was.” She shook her head as she thought back on it all, memories she tried so hard to push from her mind. “So I left. Moved again. Started over again.”

“I’m—”

“It’s okay,” she cut him off. “I’m used to it.” She laughed softly but it was more of a sad sound than anything else. “I’m good at it now.”

“Would you ever go back?” He paused. “To nursing, I mean.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” Taking a sip of her water, she finally forced herself to look Nacho in the eyes again. A tiny smile worked its way back onto her face. “Lucky for you though, hm?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Very lucky.”

“If you’d gotten to me sooner you might not have scarred so much,” she said, nodding towards his torso, the scar running across his stomach covered by the t-shirt that he was wearing.

“Too bad I didn’t know where I was going.”

It was the perfect time for him to finally say something, tell her at least the good parts of his life before all of this. He knew now that she wasn’t ever going to bring herself to ask him. Whether it was out of respect or something else entirely, he didn’t know. He wanted to tell her. Part of him wanted to tell her everything, lay it all out on the table. Each night went by and he tried to figure out if the risk was worth the reward—telling her everything and having her accept him regardless would send him clean over the moon. But telling her everything only for her to decide that she wasn’t going to let him be the reason that she would have to start over again wasn’t something that he was ready for, wasn’t something that he thought he could handle.

He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. “Really think the scar is that bad?” he asked, humor in his voice as he lifted his shirt up enough to expose it.

She let out a real laugh at that. Shaking her head as she playfully swatted his hand, causing his shirt to drop again. “Cállate.” She finished off what was left in the glass before standing up to put it in the sink. “Plenty of girls love it. You’ll be fine, hermoso, don’t worry.”

The smile that spread across Nacho’s face was involuntary, as was the warmth that went through his chest at her words. He found himself shaking his head, just as much at Gaby as at himself. He was still on the brink of chuckling to himself when she turned back around to face him.

“What?” she asked, still smiling.

“Nothing,” he replied, not sure how to answer with the truth of what he was thinking in that moment.

She raked her fingers back through her hair, pushing it all behind her shoulders. “I’m going to bed.” Walking through the living room to get to the door to her bedroom, she rested her hand on Nacho’s shoulder for a moment as she went by. “Goodnight, Nacho.”

He almost lifted his hand to place it on hers, but he stopped himself. “Goodnight.”

He watched her disappear into her bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. The warmth that lingered in his chest was battling it out with the pervasive thought that he didn’t want to be another person who made her start over. He couldn’t be the next man who cost her something like that.

It was a few days later when Gaby walked out into the living room, her phone pinned to her shoulder as she spoke to Nacho. “Do you think you could help my cousin at his shop today?”

Confusion flooded Nacho’s features. “What?”

She shook her head. “It’s just him and one other guy right now and he called out.” She saw the way that he was still very clearly lost. “Cars. He’s a mechanic.”

“Gaby, I don’t—”

“You got my car running last week.”

“I’m not a mechanic. I know a little bit, but—”

“I’ll owe you,” she said, clearly desperate to help her family.

Nacho sighed, knowing that there was no way the conversation was going to end with him not helping. Nodding, he gave in. “Okay. Yea. I can try to help.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”

Nacho watched and listened as she got back onto the phone with her cousin. There was something comforting about listening to the two of them converse. He could only hear one half of the conversation, but even so, the sound of her laughing, of her going back and forth with him in Spanish, it was heartwarming and heavy all at once. He thought about his dad. He could only imagine what the man would think about the situation Nacho was in now, what he’d have to say about it.

Trying not to get lost in the thoughts of it, he pushed himself up off the couch so he could grab his boots and get ready to leave. He didn’t get far before Gabriela came back over to him, throwing her arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you,” she said, speaking more into his chest than anything else.

It took some doing, but he finally let himself hug her back. “It’s fine.”

Pulling back, she beamed up at him. “He’s excited to meet you. I’ve told him all about you.” She laughed when she saw the panic flash across Nacho’s face. “Don’t worry, hermoso—I only told him the good things.”

It became another one of those things that they never really talked about. One day never seemed to stay just one day with them. His whole adult life Nacho seemed to constantly find himself getting in over his head, landing himself in situations that snowballed no matter how much he tried to fight it. This was the first time it felt good, though. For once the spiral felt like it was going upwards instead of down. Instead of accidentally landing himself in a mess that he couldn’t get out of, it almost felt like he was starting to build something resembling a life for himself. One that had a very pivotal centerpiece to it.

He got home one evening and she had beaten him there. She had her music on loud as she moved effortlessly around the kitchen, pulling something together for dinner. Her hips swayed and even though he couldn’t hear her, Nacho was almost certain that she was singing along with the words that played.

When she turned around and saw him standing just inside the door, she gasped. The shock on her face quickly faded, nerves dissipating as she laughed and turned the volume down just slightly.

“I tried to say hello when I walked in,” he came to his own defense, a smirk on his face as he toed off his boots.

She chuckled, the lid to a pot in one hand and the other on her hip. “I’m sure.”

Walking over, he scanned over everything that she had on the stove and the countertops. “Can I help?”

She gave him a once-over. “You can go clean yourself up,” she suggested with a laugh. “I don’t want motor oil getting into my tamales.”

Nacho chuckled and shook his head, but he didn’t put up any real fight about it. “I’ll be right back.”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “I’ll be here.”

He only got a few steps out of the kitchen before she turned the music back up. Looking back over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but to watch her for a few more seconds as she went right back to dancing and cooking.

The air of intimacy between them was unlike anything Nacho had ever experienced before. And he didn’t even think that Gaby was even going out of her way to create it. That’s just how she was—soft, inviting. The closest he’d ever physically been to her was when she hugged him. Once. He’d spent years weaving in and out of relationships and situationships with other women, but none of them had ever felt so comfortable. All of that and he was still spending every night on the couch.

“Here,” he offered with a quiet chuckle as he reached over Gaby for plates on a shelf that was nearly out of her reach, “I got it.”

She laughed, letting her head drop in mock shame as Nacho reached over her. “Thank you.”

They navigated their shared space so easily. Brushing hands and arms, soft laughs crossing in the air between them. He wondered if Gaby felt it too. Wondered if she was like him, not saying anything about it for fear of shattering the fragile bubble around them.

“Thank you,” Nacho said as he was cleaning the dishes after dinner.

Gaby tilted her head slightly a smile on her face. There was a hint of confusion in her expression as she said, “I should be thanking you.” She laughed. “It’s nice not always having to be the one to do dishes all the time anymore.”

One end of Nacho’s mouth tugged up into a smile for half a second. “No, I mean, thank you. For,” he took a deep breath, “all of it.”

Recognition flooded her face. Walking over, she leaned back against the counter that was beside the sink. Even if Nacho was having trouble looking her in the eyes, she didn’t share the same hesitation. “You’re welcome.” There was a long pause between them, Gaby waiting for Nacho to finally say whatever was on the tip of his tongue, Nacho waiting for her to switch topics or walk away so he wouldn’t have to say it all. Then Gaby continued. “I’ve never asked, because I know what it’s like to try and leave everything behind. It’s not easy.”

Nacho chuckled before he could stop himself. “No, it’s not.”

She waited for him to look over at her for a moment before saying, “Maybe it’s too late for me to ask. Maybe I should have asked weeks ago. But do I need to be worried?”

He shook head. “No.”

She studied his face closely as he said that. That was a promise that she’d heard before and she still had to watch her whole life crumble down around her. “You promise?”

“Promise.” He meant it. He felt like he was as safe as he was ever going to be existing in the little universe they’d created for themselves. But he also knew that if he even heard so much as a murmur, felt even the slightest change in the wind, he’d leave. He owed her at least that much.

She let the word hang between them for a moment before nodding. “Okay.” Reaching over, she rested her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for the dishes.”

The smile on his face was small, almost shy after all of that. “You’re welcome.” He let her get a couple steps away before he spoke up again, mouth acting independently from his brain. “That first night…”

The silence that took over the apartment was suffocating. It lasted for a few agonizingly long seconds before Gaby’s soft footfalls could be heard, slowly making her way back over to him. She didn’t say anything, just finding her place against the counter once more. Her eyebrows lifted, a silent invitation for him to keep talking.

“That first night,” he started again, hoping to get the full sentence out this time, “when I saw you, I thought I was dying.” He couldn’t stop the bit of a chuckle that found its way into his voice as he ended the sentence.

Gaby, despite herself, had to smile a little at that too. “I thought so too.”

“That’s fair,” he said with a nod. “But, when I thought I was dying,” his eyes were focused intensely on the plate that he was washing, “and I saw you, I swear I thought you were an angel or something.”

Gaby laughed. It wasn’t the first time that she’d heard something like that. When she worked at the hospital, tending to people who were in crisis, fading in and out of consciousness and some of them very much on the brink of dying completely, there had been more than one patient who said something to that effect. She always took it in stride, and she did this time too, but it felt different hearing it from Nacho. Maybe because it was the first time that either of them spoke about that night at all.

“Not quite,” she told him, her voice soft.

“I don’t know,” Nacho shrugged as he set the dishes in the drying rack, “I think I had it right.”

She rolled her eyes but she was still smiling. “You’re sweet.”

“You saved my life.”

“I don’t think you were dying,” she countered, her voice still light. “I think you were exhausted and dehydrated.”

“No, I mean,” he shut the sink off and dried his hands, “the rest of it, too.”

She smiled, not quite sure how to respond to what he was saying. So many times over the previous weeks she thought about bringing it up, but it never went quite like this when she played it out in her head. She watched him closely as he leaned back against the counter right beside her.

“I’m glad that you found me,” she said, giving him credit where he truly felt that none was due. He turned his head to look at her and she added, “And I’m glad that you stayed.”

The only way that Nacho could explain what he felt at the sound of her words was saying it was as though his heart had tripped over its own feet. The beat got knocked off-kilter, nearly tumbling down a flight of stairs as he let himself feel the weight of what she’d said.

“I’m glad too,” he finally forced himself to speak, his voice coming out as barely a whisper.

They stood there beside each other for a moment. The outsides of their arms pressed against the other’s, contact running all the way down to where the outsides of their feet were just barely touching. There was something in the way that Gaby hardly ever seemed to shy away from looking him, or anyone really, in the eyes. Sometimes Nacho thought it was because she had nothing in the way of shame resting on her shoulders, nothing that would make her feel like she shouldn’t meet someone’s gaze. He wondered what that was like.

His eyes averted from hers, but just for the briefest moment as they wandered to her lips. She had a soft smile on, something that seemed so constant and natural for her. It was far from the first time that Nacho looked at her when she was like that and thought about kissing her, wondering what it would be like to be able to taste that kind of softness and comfort.

It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind, but it was the first time he made a move to do something about it. Reaching over, he cupped the side of her face before he could make himself stop. His thumb grazed along her cheek, eyes studying every aspect of her face, like he was admiring but also looking for any sign that he should quit while he might’ve still been ahead.

She didn’t pull away. There was no doubt or hesitation present in the way that she gently leaned into the contact, pressing cheek to palm. Her eyes shut, a little too long to be a blink. When she opened them again, looking up at Nacho through her eyelashes, he thought that he was going to sink clean through the floor beneath them.

His voice trembled slightly, sounding like a man that he didn’t even recognize as he whispered a soft, “Gaby…”

She reached up, threading her fingers with his. “Mhm?” she hummed.

He didn’t know if he actually had words ready to say in response, but if he did they all fell to the wayside. Leaning in, he carefully pressed his lips to hers. It was soft, tentative, nervous in a way that he hadn’t been around a woman in a long time. Part of him was still expecting her to pull away, but she didn’t. She leaned into him, her hand moving to rest flat against his chest. The erratic beating of his heart thrummed against her palm, and he could feel that same warm smile curl her lips as she continued to kiss him.

It was everything he could’ve ever wanted it to be and more.

He was keenly aware of everything about her, the way her hands slid to interlock behind his neck, the way she gently pulled him so that he was in front of her, putting her between him and the counter behind her. Nacho’s hands dropped to her waist for a moment before sliding up, fingers splaying across her back as he fought the urge to grip onto her shirt and pull her tighter, like she was at risk of slipping away from him.

She felt it, too, the tension that was beginning to rear its head as his lips moved against hers. She pulled away, not far, just enough so that she could look him in the eyes and make him look at her.

“Hey,” she brought her hand to his cheek, “you’re okay.”

His shoulders sagged in relief as she voice washed over him. He let his forehead drop to rest against hers, eyes drifting shut for a moment as he tried to soak it in, not just feel what she was saying but actually believe it too. Her fingertips were so soft as they trailed down the side of his face, pads of her fingers as they roamed over the stubble that was beginning to grow in again.

Tilting her chin up just slightly, she kissed him again, tender and quick. Nacho smiled, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d started to hold. He pulled her closer, not out of fear, but because it just felt like the small span of space between them was too much. Gaby melted into him, hands on the sides of his neck, the tips of her fingers just barely interlocking behind.

“Come on, hermoso,” there was gentle laughter in her voice as she pushed against him, separating herself from the counter so she could start pulling him out of the kitchen, “let’s go to bed.”

It was a strange moment when Nacho realized that the couch wasn’t going to be bed. His eyes only drifted away from Gaby for a moment, looking back at where his blankets and pillows were all still stacked so neatly at the end of the sofa. But then he felt the way her fingers trailed against his palm and all of his attention went back to her.

He let her pull him across the threshold and into her room. He didn’t even have it in him to look around, his eyes fixed on her and her alone. As she flicked on the lights of her bedroom, the only thing Nacho could think was that he hoped that, just like everything else about them, this wasn’t going to be just one night.

#nacho varga #gaby castillo #gabriela castillo #ignacio varga #better call saul #bcs #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans au #better call saul au #nacho varga x gabriela castillo #gabriela castillo x nacho varga #rare pair exchange #rare pair #rare pair exchange 2023 #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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yukidragon · 1 year

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Our Life Mini Moment - Christmas Shopping

In the spirit of the season, here is a little bit of Christmas-themed fluff with a teenage Cove and Jamie from Our Life: Beginnings & Always, set between steps 2 and 3.

Merry Christmas to you all, and I hope you have a lovely holiday season.

@gb-patch

...

Christmas time in southern California didn’t match up with the traditional image of the season touted in TV shows and movies. Instead of blankets of snow covering the ground in pearly white, there was green grass and sunny days that rarely got nippy enough to require a sweater. Still, most houses and businesses got into the spirit of the season, stringing up lights along the edges of buildings, as well as the occasional palm tree as a substitute for the traditional pine.

The mall especially went overboard when it came to decorating for the holiday season. Red, green, and white practically dominated the décor, with some stores lining their windows with fake snow and icicles to give a true ‘winter’ feeling. Christmas music rang out through every nook and cranny, and there was no place to look without seeing some colorful poster reminding shoppers that there were only so many days left to shop before Christmas arrived.

For as noisy, gaudy, and crowded it could get during this time of year, Jamie still enjoyed browsing around the mall, taking in the sights of the season. Even something as hectic as shopping for Christmas gifts was nicer for the surroundings. What made it even more enjoyable was sharing the experience with her partner.

Jamie turned away from a waving inflatable Santa in time for Cove to finish his transaction with the cashier. “Ready to go?” she asked once he stepped away from the line.

“Yeah, all set,” Cove said as he looped his newest bag onto his arm to go with the others. He beamed, his sunny smile sparkling brighter than the decorations around them. “That was the last gift I needed. I’m ready for Christmas.”

“That’s great,” Jamie said brightly as she looped her arm around Cove’s, mindful of the bags they were carrying.

Cove let out a pleased hum at the close contact even as a blush graced his cheeks. “What about you?” he asked once they left the store behind. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

Jamie was quiet for a moment before letting out a sigh and shaking her head. “I’ve still got to get a gift for my aunt and uncle.” Another sigh escaped her, one more put upon and overly dramatic as she flopped her head against Cove, her cheek squishing against his shoulder. “I have no idea what to get them.” She let out a small huff. “What do you get for the couple that has everything and enough money to buy it all over again?”

Cove chuckled softly at his girlfriend’s theatrics, though he caught hints of real frustration underneath it all. He readjusted his hold on his bags so that he could give the arm she wrapped around his a gentle pat. “It’ll be okay. Some store is bound to have something they’ll like.”

Jamie looked up at Cove, her cheek still smushed against him. “I hope so.” She straightened up, her exaggerated drama fading to a more genuine concern. “It might take a while though, and it’s already getting pretty late. How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” Cove said. Though his answer was sincere, he had to admit that spending an entire day dealing with a crowded mall full of frazzled shoppers was slowly wearing him down. The only reason he lasted so long was likely because of the special person by his side the entire time. “How about you?”

“I’m okay too, except for this present thing,” Jamie said before letting out a quiet sigh as she spotted a nearby clock on the wall. “Elizabeth is probably going to be meeting up with us soon. I’ll probably have to ask her to bring me back here tomorrow, or see if one of my moms can do it.”

Getting around without a driver’s license was rough, but Jamie still had a couple more weeks before she turned sixteen. Even then, it didn’t mean she was necessarily going to get her license on her birthday, and it might be a while longer after that before she could start driving herself around to various places. Cove had recently turned sixteen, but he wasn’t too keen on getting a license of his own yet. He didn’t feel quite ready to drive, needing more time to mentally prepare himself for all the responsibility and risks it entailed. This meant that the two of them still depended on others to give them rides if they wanted to go someplace outside of walking distance from home.

“I don’t mind coming back with you to help you finish your shopping,” Cove said as he offered Jamie a gentle smile.

Jamie relaxed a little at the reassurance and returned the smile with one of her own. She had been hoping Cove would keep her company if she had to come back to the mall, and she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Thanks. You’re the best partner ever.”

The praise and affection sent Cove’s pulse racing, and he faltered for a moment, stammering out half words before he could manage a response. “I’m not… you’re the one who’s so…” He trailed off as he found himself tongue tied and red faced, fumbling for a way to put into words just how amazing Jamie was to him.

Despite his fumbling, Jamie still received the message loud and clear. Her gaze softened with affection, and she stepped closer to press her lips against his. The kiss was brief, but wonderful, and for the moment they lost themselves in it, the crowd around them practically melting away to leave the pair in their own little world.

When the kiss ended, a soft, happy sigh escaped Cove, and for a moment he had to stop to admire the flecks of light that sparkled in Jamie’s dark blue eyes, a glittering sight that put all the Christmas decorations around them to shame. As tempting as it was to simply stay lost in her eyes, he knew that their time was running short. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s try to squeeze in one more store before Elizabeth comes to drag us home.” He forced himself to look away, scanning the area for any places that looked promising. “How about that one?”

Jamie looked to where Cove nodded his head and spotted the store he indicated - a rather sizable gift shop full of many miscellaneous items for various occasions. It seemed promising. “Okay, let’s go.”

#Our Life Beginnings & Always #Cove Holden #Jamie Last #Jamie Leimomi #Our Life #olba #My Writing

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what-even-is-thiss · 2 years

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Hello, I was wondering if you'd mind expanding on your experience of going from car-centric travel to not having a car. I live in southern California, which I'm sure you're familiar with as being VERY car-centric and terrible at public transportation. I just recently had my license medically suspended, pending some test results to see if it's safe for me to be driving, and I will most likely lose my job if I don't get my license back (what takes 20 minutes by car is 3 hours by bus) and I'm kind of freaking out about how I'm going to adapt if my license gets permanently revoked.

I purposefully moved close enough to my job that I can get there by bus within half an hour. I know that is likely not possible for you or most people though. Here’s some stuff I’ve learned from trying to get to other far away places and talking to other people that don’t own cars though:

People are often more willing to give you a ride than you’d expect. Try asking your coworkers or friends if they’d be willing to help you out. Offer to pay for gas if that makes it more likely for them to give you a ride.

If you’re legally disabled a lot of cities have a program to drive disabled people where they want to go for either a normal fare rate or a discounted fare rate. You might have to schedule it but if you know when your shift will be you can schedule it every day and they will just come and get you.

Some metro systems just have a ride service for anyone for a slightly more expensive fare rate. See if the metro system in your area has an app or website with alternate transit options listed.

Depending on the rates where you live and how expensive your car is, sometimes taking Uber or Lyft to work can be slightly less expensive than owning a car.

If you decide to take the three hour commute you can do stuff when you’re on the bus like be on your laptop or listen to podcasts or read that you can’t do when you’re driving. So if you like that it might not be as bad as you’d expect. Some people that take transit for their hyper commute actually enjoy it from what I’ve been told because they can get a lot done. Some people hate it. Depends on what kind of person you are.

If you’re able to ride a bike, an e-bike might be a good investment. Especially if you commute to work early in the morning when it’s cool. E-bikes are way way easier to ride than regular bikes and you can go way further and faster on them with less energy. Sometimes I’ll rent an e-bike to get somewhere far away and I love those things. If you prefer e-scooters that could also be an option depending on how hilly your area is.

If you decide to ride a normal bike, you could look into buying a Dutch style bike which is made for commuting. Dutch style bikes have pedal breaks. I love those things. And if you bike, you don’t have to exercise later in the day. Kind of a time saver if you already exercise.

If you’re not afraid of strangers you can see if there’s a carpool app available in your area. These apps can connect you to people willing to give others rides. Again though, this option assumes that you’re not afraid of strangers. Along this same line of thinking, did you know that people still hitchhike? It happens.

I know firsthand how hard the transition from car living to no car living can be. Texas is just as hostile to pedestrians if not more than California in my experience. And I hope you can get your drivers license back. If you can’t though, there’s ways to get around and it is possible to get used to it. I wish you luck.

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trans-girl-nausicaa · 1 year

Text

OAKBOUGH: A CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE STORY.

CHAPTER 3.

(CONTENT WARNING: POLICE-RELATED VIOLENCE)

>Answer the phone with your own name. Ask Justice if she knows what’s going on.

You tap the screen of the cell phone and accept the call.

You activate speakerphone.

“Hi, this is… This is Mulligan Redux,” you say.

That’s your name.

“Hello? Um, okay, hi, can you… Put Wasp on the phone?” she asks.

“They’re not here right now,” you say.

“Not here? Well where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know where they are when you have their phone? Who exactly are you?”

“Look, ma’am,” you say, “I just… I’m just in Wasp’s car, by myself, and I don’t know how I got here,”

“Don’t know- What? Have you been drinking?! Were you and Wasp out getting drunk?! On a business trip no less?! They’re supposed to be almost home by now!”

“No, no, you don’t understand: I don’t know Wasp. I haven’t been drinking. I’m not a business associate. I don’t know Wasp at all.”

“Let me talk to them!”

“Like I said, they’re not here. I don’t know where they are. I just, like, woke up in Wasp’s car. On I-5. In the driver’s seat. I have Wasp’s wallet, and phone, and- You’re their wife, right? Justice? Justice Cochineal?”

“Yes, that’s me! I’m their wife!”

“I have their wedding ring here,” you say, quietly.

“WHAT?!”

“I have their-“

“Yeah, I fucking HEARD you, I just- What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“If you don’t believe me, I can send you a picture,” you say.

You hear silence for a moment.

“What do you want from me?” says Justice.

“Well, I was actually hoping that you could tell me what is going on. But you sound just as confused as I am. Look, ma’am, here’s the thing: A few minutes ago, I woke up in Wasp’s car, in the driver’s seat, on I-5. Their wallet was in my pocket and their, uh… Their wedding ring was on my finger. And somehow- Somehow the drivers’ license has a picture of me on it. I don’t know what’s going on, but please, please do not call the police. I don’t have my ID and-“

”Oh, I’m CALLING the fucking police!” says Justice.

“But I haven’t committed any crime! If anything, I’m a victim here! Someone has, well, kidnapped me! I don’t even live in California! I live in the fucking Bronx! And I guess your partner is missing too, so maybe they’re kidnapped also!” you protest.

“You are fucking crazy,” she says.

She hangs up.

You know you’re not “crazy,” but you’re feeling pretty fucking unbalanced right now.

You slam your fists against the steering wheel.

“Fuck!” you blurt.

You wish you could’ve gotten through to her. You consider calling her back for a moment, then disregard it. She sounded pretty determined not to listen to you.

You clench and unclench your fists. You’ve got to collect yourself, you think. The stress is really getting to you. But this is definitely going to get worse before it gets better.

‘I need to get off the shoulder of the interstate to figure things out,’ you think to yourself.

You start the engine and hit the turn signal so you can merge back into the flow of traffic.

Congestion has gotten pretty bad again so you’re kind of stuck for the moment.

“Come on, come on,” you say under your breath.

You sit there in limbo for a few minutes. Time drags on, and you feel like you’ve been there forever.

And then you hear sirens.

“Oh, fuck. Please be an ambulance,” you say.

You look in the rearview mirror.

It’s not an ambulance.

There’s a police SUV speeding towards you along the shoulder.

“Holy shit,” you say. You’ve never seen such a reckless driving maneuver before.

You hear it screech to a halt.

You hear a megaphone blare out: “HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL. DON’T MOVE. PRESENT YOUR LICENSE AND REGISTRATION.”

Your head spins. How can you do all of that at once?

You suppose you have to comply, in some sense. You quickly grab the registration to the vehicle, and pull out Wasp’s license. You place them on the dashboard and grab the steering wheel, sweating bullets.

You check the rearview mirror again. Two police officers get out of the car and jog towards the vehicle. To you, they look like they’re wearing tactical gear, sans helmets.

One of them comes up to the drivers’ side window and shines a flashlight into your eyes.

“ROLL DOWN THE WINDOW,” you hear him shout.

Oh. Okay, uh, let’s do that.

You slowly take your left hand off the steering wheel and move it to the window control button.

“ROLL DOWN THE WINDOW!” he repeats.

You press the button and the window rolls down.

“LICENSE AND REGISTRATION,” says the cop.

You point towards the dashboard.

“Hand them to me,” he demands. You squint against the beam of the flashlight he’s pointing at your face.

You reach for the paper and the card, gathering them up. You present them to the cop.

He lowers his flashlight and turns it off to take the paperwork from you.

Why does he need a flashlight? It’s the middle of the day, you think.

As he holsters it, you realize that it was a weapon-mounted flashlight attached to a pistol.

To your horror, you realize he was actually pointing a gun at you this whole time.

Well, at least he’s putting it away now.

You glance to your right. The other cop is on the passenger’s side, pointing her pistol at you.

You look away and put your hands on the steering wheel, mortally afraid.

“This car was reported stolen, Mr. Ghelsig,” says the first cop.

“I-I’m not Wasp Ghelsig, and- and I didn’t steal anything, and I’m not a Mister,” you say.

The cop points to the picture on the license.

“This is you?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head.

“This looks like you,” says the cop.

“I know, but it’s not me,” you say. “I’m not Wasp Ghelsig, my name is Mulligan Redux. I don’t know Wasp Ghelsig at all. I’ve never met them.”

“So this isn’t your vehicle?”

“No,”

“And you’ve never talked to the owner of the vehicle?”

“No,”

“You’re under arrest.”

“But- Wait! You don’t understand! I’ve- I’ve been kidnapped! I don’t live in California! I don’t know how I got here!”

“Step out of the vehicle, sir.”

With trembling hands, you unlock the door and step out.

‘Please don’t call me sir, I’m not a man,’ you think in your head. You’re too intimidated to say it out loud.

The other cop steps around the car, still pointing her gun at you.

You start crying a little.

Your knees are weak.

The male cop wrenches your arms behind your back and handcuffs you.

“Ow!” you gasp, involuntarily.

“Don’t resist,” says the cop.

You’re not resisting, but the cop is pulling your arm at an angle further than it can naturally bend.

“You’re hurting me!” you cry.

“If you resist, we’ll have no choice to use force,” the female officer says in a monotone, still pointing her gun at you.

‘How would I meaningfully resist when you have a gun pointed at me,’ you think to yourself.

The male officer kicks your legs out from under you.

You fall down.

You land on your left side, your arm and leg hitting the hot pavement. You were taken completely by surprise so you fall hard.

“FUCK!” you grunt as pain shoots through your body.

Someone pushes you onto your stomach with their foot.

Someone kneels on your back.

They’re talking to each other now. You can’t make out what they’re saying. One of them laughs.

Your head swims. You’re finding it hard to breathe. It feels like the hot pavement is frying the front of your body.

They keep you in that position for a while. You don’t know why.

Then, the one on your back stands up.

“Don’t move,” says one of the officers. Even if you wanted to, you don’t think you could. You lie there, gasping, trying to catch your breath, your nose full of the smell of hot pavement and car exhaust.

Suddenly, you hear a loud crack, and something falls on your legs, and then several more cracks ring out, more than you can count, and something large falls down in front of your face, and in five seconds’ time, it has all stopped.

You’re hyperventilating and your ears are ringing. You realize you had shut your eyes, and you open them.

You are looking into the eyes of the male police officer. He is dead.

You shut your eyes again. You don’t want to open them again, ever.

You hear muffled sounds around you. They might be voices, but your ears are ringing too much to tell.

The weight lifts off your legs.

You don’t know why, and you don’t want to know why. You don’t want to think, don’t want to see, don’t want to know.

The only thought that your mind is capable of conjuring is that you are probably about to die.

You wait to die.

You do not die.

You feel a warm hand pressing the side of your neck.

The ringing in your ears has subsided a little.

“They’re alive!” you hear someone say. It is an unfamiliar voice.

You assume that now that they know you are alive that they will kill you.

They do not kill you.

You feel someone unlock your handcuffs.

Relieved of restraint, your arms fall to your sides.

You feel someone gently roll you onto your side, and then onto your back. They support your head and neck so you don’t hit it on the pavement. There is something soft underneath the back of your head.

“Hey, are you awake?” you hear someone say.

You don’t respond.

You think you have heard of people that have survived terrorist attacks and other such incidents by pretending to be dead.

You feel a hand on the side of your neck again.

“Pulse is normal,” you hear someone say.

Oh shit.

One of your eyes is lifted open.

“Pupillary light reflex is normal,” you hear someone say, and you see someone crouching above you. They are holding your right eye open. They are wearing dark glasses and a brown balaclava.

You open both of your eyes.

“Please don’t kill me,” you say.

“Oh hey! You ARE conscious! Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re not going to do anything bad to you, okay? Now, I want you to tell me, are you in any pain?” asks the masked person, matter-of-factly. Their voice is high and lilting.

You can hear the movement of several persons around you, opening and closing car doors, and moving some unknown things around.

Your head is spinning. You try to think.

“I am not injured,” you find yourself saying.

“Excellent!” says the brown-masked person.

For some reason that you can’t explain, you ask what happened to the police officers.

“Oh. We killed them,” the person says. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“Why did you kill them?”

You know you should shut up. Your mouth just won’t stop moving.

“It wasn’t personal. They were in violation of the terms of the treaty, so their lives were forfeit.”

“Treaty?”

“Yeah. The Death Valley Treaty. We’re a squad of The Sands of the Mojave.”

“The what?”

“The insurrectionary group. The news call us terrorists. But they do use our correct name, at least. Listen, does your head hurt at all? If you hit your head, you might have a concussion. Do you know who the President is?”

Of course you do.

“Zorgan Mimmerman,” you say.

“Okay, you know that at least. What’s five times five?”

“Twenty-five,” you answer.

“And what is your name?”

“Mulligan Redux,” you say, and you feel a sinking feeling in your gut.

Why did you just give your name to these people?

“What are your pronouns?”

“They/Them,” you respond.

“Okay, then. So, you’re probably not concussed. Just a bit ignorant of the news! A bit embarrassing for us, I must say. We must make more of an effort to raise the visibility of The Cause. Well, anyway… Do you need any help?”

STATS:

AGGRESSION: 5

CAUTION: 5

HOMOSEXUALITY: 5

ENDURANCE: 5

SKILL: 5

INVENTORY:

KEYS

CELL PHONE [BATTERY: 45%]

WALLET [CASH: $50]

WEDDING BAND [50 KARAT GOLD]

MULTI-TOOL

VEHICLE:

TYPE: [SPORTS UTILITY VEHICLE]

CONDITION: [FAIR]

GAS: [49%]

OIL: [50%]

BATTERY: [49%]

ODOMETER: [50,000 MILES]

#choose your own adventure #OAKBOUGH

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mychemicalimagines · 2 years

Text

Ray of Sunshine-Dwayne Hoover-Chapter 5

Summary: Seventeen-year-olds Dwayne Hoover and Tyler Walker (or Ty as she’s affectionately known in the Hoover house) have been best friends since they were born. His mom and her mom are best friends too, so they had every chance to be together. They only have each other and are madly in love. However, the other person doesn’t know about their friend’s feelings. Will a chaos filled trip to California for his little sister’s beauty pageant allow these feelings to surface and let the childhood friends become more or will the the inseparable duo keep them bottled inside, not wanting to risk that cherished friendship that’s always been a little more?

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Language, Talk of Underage Sex, Mentions of Attempted Suicide - not by Dwayne or OC, Fat Shaming of a Seven Year Old, Absent Parent, Death of Character - Not Dwayne or OC, ALL Warnings for the movie apply to this series!

Words: 4,511

Tag List: Reblogging

A/N: Thank you so much for waiting. We’ve been working hard on different series to get out to you but we’ve definitely been working on this for ya! 5 Comments = Next Chapter!

To Be Tagged: Comment, Message Me, Submit an Ask, or Tag Yourself in My Bio!

Third Person POV

After everyone finishes with their breakfast, Richard rushes outside to call Stan before they get on the road. Tyler shakes her head, watching him run out the door as she wipes her mouth with her napkin. Sheryl hands the waitress her debit card before taking the last bite of her food. When the waitress returns, she puts the card back in her wallet before everyone stands up.

They all exit the building, noticing the man standing to the side on his cell phone. Sheryl approaches him but everyone else starts walking toward the RV.

“You get him?” She asks, putting her sunglasses on.

“No. I can’t get a signal out of this thing…” He starts but she starts walking away from him.

He sighs and looks at the bars on his phone again before putting it on the clip of his belt, walking after his family.

“How long till we get there?” Olive asks, glancing up at her father.

“A long time, honey.” He answers.

“I know, but…how long?” She asks again.

“Well, we’re doing six hundred miles today and two hundred miles tomorrow. It’s a lot of driving. Let’s go.” He waves for his family to hurry up.

Tyler raises an eyebrow as he makes his way to the front of the group. She leans over toward Dwayne who is walking beside her, his hand on her lower back.

“He does realize that we're all right here, right?” She whispers, glancing at him.

He shrugs and shakes his head, silently informing her ‘he’s an idiot.’

“Honey, I’ll drive for a while.” Sheryl speaks up, fixing the sunglasses.

“No. no. I got this.” Richard shakes his head.

“No, you’re right. I gotta learn to do this. I mean, you’re doing it. How hard can it be?” She shrugs.

“But, Sheryl. You tried driving with my mom’s car and it didn’t work out very well.” Tyler says, walking past her.

“It’s okay, Ty.” She pats her back as the young girl walks by. “Richard is here this time to show me.”

Everyone gets into the bus, this time with Sheryl behind the wheel. She starts the vehicle, but when she tries to back up, she starts grinding the gears. Tyler lays her head on Dwayne’s shoulder, listening to the gears grind just like they did when she was being taught how to drive. She did end up getting her license but that was after Sheryl used her own car to teach her.

“Push the stick down hard.” Richard says, watching her.

“I’m pushing hard.” She says, trying her best.

“Push the clutch in all the way to the floor!”

“It’s on the floor!”

After a few more seconds, and exhausting even himself with his mansplaining directions, Richard wants to try, wondering why it’s not working, thinking that his wife is obviously not doing it right, and that it’s not the vehicle itself. Sheryl smirks with her arms crossed from outside the driver’s side door.

“It’s just…sticking on there.” He grunts, pushing down on the shifter.

“Push it down hard.” She says, monotonously, reiterating her husband’s earlier instructions.

The Hoover’s were forced to get the VW towed to the nearest mechanics. Inside the shop, Richard and Sheryl are talking to the lead mechanic, trying to figure out what’s wrong with their vehicle. Outside, Olive is pushing a large tire, getting her exercise in while Edwin watches. Frank is sitting on a cinderblock nearby, just waiting for the situation to resolve itself.

Dwayne and Tyler sit on the hood of a broken down car, staring toward the road, watching the cars drive by. Every so often, one of them would lean over and tell/write the other one a joke or something funny they’ve heard before. After about ten minutes of waiting on the hood of the car, Tyler looks to her left when she feels a tap on her arm.

He holds up his notepad, causing her to put her hand over her eyes to block out the sun so she can read what he has written.

‘An old friend will help you move. A good friend will help you move a dead body.’

She starts laughing, putting her hand on his upper arm to keep her balance.

He smirks, making sure she doesn’t fall off the car.

“Are you the old friend or the good friend?” She asks once she calms down.

He scribbles a few words down before holding up the pad again.

‘Definitely the good friend. Where’s the body?’

She shakes her head and laughs before leaning toward him.

“Nowhere yet, but if Richard keeps acting the way he is, I’ll have one later.” She whispers. “You’d be the first one I’d call.”

His smirk gets bigger. Frank, who can see the teens clearly, watches them with a small hidden smile. He’s betting they don’t realize how close their faces are right now. After watching them last night, cuddling in his bed, he began to think. He wasn’t sure about the answer to his theory but after watching them again, right now…he’s sure he’s correct.

There is no way these two don’t like each other. They spend literally every minute together. They have no other friends. He’s caught them on multiple occasions holding hands or at least, touching each other’s hand. They’ve technically snuggled while they were sitting, their heads on one another’s shoulders.

They…just aren’t together - at least not as anything other than friends, despite it being clear that they think of each other as more than that - and he’s wondering why. He watches as Dwayne writes something down and Tyler starts laughing again, this time putting her face against his shoulder. He notices the blush appear on his nephew’s face as he grins down at her.

Frank grins to himself and stands up, dusting off his pants.

“Come on, you two. Let’s see what’s going on.”

Dwayne slides down the hood of the car before putting his hand out toward his best friend. Tyler happily takes it, sliding down herself before standing straight. Never letting go of the other’s hand, they begin to walk toward his uncle, only letting go once they reach him. The trio begins walking straight to the building, stopping at the door to listen to the mechanic.

Sheryl walks toward them, shaking her head slightly. They can all tell she’s irritated.

“You don’t need the clutch to change from–from the third to the forth.” He says, gesturing with his hands. “You only really need the clutch to go from number one to number two. But as long as you keep parking on a hill, and you let it go, and it goes fifteen, twenty miles per hour, you start her in third and you go from third to fourth.”

“W-What if there’s no hill?” Richard asks, gesturing outside. “There’s no hill.”

“Yeah, it’s…” The mechanic cuts himself off with a grin and turns to look at the whole family.

After Edwin and Olive walk into the garage, he realizes how many people this man has with him. That’s how the Hoover family plus one was talked into pushing the bus. Richard opens the sliding door before looking at everyone, his father standing at the sliding door.

“Olive, Dad, I want you in the car first.” He says, walking around the back of the vehicle, noticing the mechanic was standing beside his step-son, ready to help.

“I know, we know.” Olive says as her mother rubs her back.

“Is everyone ready?” He asks, opening the driver side door, not waiting for an answer. “Alright! Push!”

Everyone, including the mechanic, begins to push the bus as hard as they can, causing it to slowly roll. Frank, who is using his forearm to push the bus, looks toward his sister and Tyler.

“I just want everyone here to know I’m the pre-eminent Proust Scholar in the United States.”

They start laughing as Sheryl’s husband jumps into the driver's seat.

“Here we go!” Richard calls out.

He starts the bus as it starts rolling faster and faster, everyone running behind it now. Grandpa jumps in and sits in Olive’s original seat, facing the side of the vehicle.

“Olive! Get in. I’m putting it in gear!” Richard yells out.

The young girl runs toward the sliding door, her grandfather calling for her. He grabs her arms and she jumps, getting into the bus.

“Sheryl!”

She starts running after her daughter, laughing and cheering before jumping in herself. She moves to the passenger seat and looks out the window. Tyler begins running, already out of breath from helping to push the van. Grandpa puts his arms out, ready to take her hands.

“I got you, little lady. You got this!” He calls out.

The bus is rolling at a steady pace now, already in third gear. Tyler grabs Edwin’s hands, using them as a way to jump in before sitting in the back seat, panting. Frank, noticing the family friend is in the vehicle, starts running, but he’s not as fast as she was.

“Slow down!” Sheryl says, noticing her brother is lagging slightly behind. “You’re losing them!”

“I can’t! I can’t slow down.” Richard says, slightly panicking.

“Come on, you dumb bastard.” Grandpa says, keeping his hands out.

Dwayne looks toward his uncle as the mechanic stops pushing beside him. He runs up behind Frank, pushing on his back, helping him. Frank gets the momentum he needs and jumps into the bus, almost landing in Tyler’s lap. It takes Dwayne a few seconds, with his family yelling at him, but he’s able to jump into the vehicle, this time actually being the one to land in Tyler’s lap since Frank had quickly moved seats after he got in.

She groans at the weight of her best friend as Sheryl cheers, happy everyone is in the bus.

“No one gets left behind!” Frank smacks the seat in front of him. “Outstanding, soldiers! Outstanding!”

Dwayne quickly moves to the seat beside her as Grandpa closes the sliding door.

“Did you have fun?” He asks, looking at Olive as he gets comfortable.

“Yeah.” She smiles widely, still panting.

After everyone catches their breath and they’re on the road, Frank and Dwayne switch seats, leaving Tyler in the middle so Frank and Grandpa can switch as well. Once everyone is back in their normal seats, they all relax, trying to enjoy the ride. After about ten minutes, Olive has put her headphones back on and Grandpa has fallen asleep, leaning against the window beside him.

Tyler looks up at her best friend and decides to tease him. “You’ve got a helluva boney ass. At least I’ve got a little extra cushion.”

Dwayne quickly looks around, making sure no one else heard before he playfully flips her off and grabs his notepad, scribbling something onto it and showing her.

‘Maybe I just never said anything about your boney ass.’

Tyler cracks up laughing at the :P he drew at the end of his statement.

“Nah,” She whispers, her tone still playful. “You’d have said something. You’re not really good at keeping ‘your mouth shut’ when something happens that you don’t like.”

He scrunches his brows, pursing his lips, pretending to think about what she said before shrugging with a nod and a large smile. He starts scribbling on his pad again, tilting it toward her.

‘I was just being nice!’

“Since when are you nice?” She smirks, crossing her arms as she leans back in her seat.

His mouth opens slightly in shock before he writes on his notepad again.

‘ALL THE TIME!’

“Sureeee, Dwayne. Sure…” She bites her lip to hide her smile as she uncrosses one arm to pat his knee.

He playfully glares at her and grabs her hand, holding it there. Frank glances back at them, a smile appearing on his face at their interaction. Sheryl, who was turned around, raises an eyebrow at her brother, confused on his grin. He glances down at Olive before scooting forward in his seat. His sister leans down, unsure if he wanted her husband to hear.

“Are Dwayne and Tyler always like that?” He whispers, gesturing behind him.

“Like what?” She murmurs, glancing at them.

“So close. Not like how we were as brother and sister growing up. Or even how close you and Abby were as best friends…but more like,” He pauses as he thinks. “How you and Matthew were? All cute and sappy. Like there was nothing else or no-one else in the world that mattered.”

Sheryl thinks for a moment as she thinks back over all of the times her son and her best friend’s daughter have hung out. Hand holding, small cuddles and laughter fill her mind. She glances back at the two teenagers to see her head on his shoulder as he looks out the window, a small smile on his face. After a long pause, she looks back at her brother.

“Now, that you say something…” She whispers. “...yeah. They’re always like that.”

“How long have they been like that?” He raises an eyebrow, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Umm, since they were like…ten?”

He nods slightly, glancing over his shoulder again before whispering. “I think there’s something there and they aren’t doing anything about it.”

“You think so too?” Her eyes widen slightly.

He nods again with a hidden smirk. “We gotta do something.”

“What are you guys doing?” Richard asks, glancing down at them.

The siblings sit up almost immediately, shaking their heads, acting as if they had just gotten caught by a parent in the middle of a scheming plan.

“Nothing, honey.” Sheryl says, patting her husband’s arm.

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question it any further as his brother-in-law moves back into his seat.

The family has been driving for a total of six hours since they left the house and they’ve had to keep themselves occupied. Grandpa found some snacks and has been tossing popcorn in the air, catching it in his mouth to entertain Olive. It only lasted for about twenty minutes, though. Tyler and Dwayne have been reading their books, after playing a few more games of Tic-Tac-Toe on his notepad, but the bumpy ride kept breaking their concentration.

After a while, Richard realizes he never told his brother-in-law how he met Stan Grossman and started getting the Nine Steps up and running.

“...So finally I’m just sitting there, and I decide, you know ‘This is Stan Grossman. What the hell?’ And I start pitching him the nine steps. And about - I don’t know - two minutes in, he stops me, he says, ‘I can sell this’.” He grins at his wife.

“Mm-hmm. Interesting.” Frank says, nodding slightly.

Everyone, except for him, has heard this story about a million times. Grandpa is napping while Tyler and Dwayne are staring out the window. They still haven’t let go of one another’s hand, loving the feeling of the other's hand, one soft and the other rough with a few callouses. Sheryl rolls her eyes slightly at her husband as she blows a bubble with her gum, staring out the windshield.

Frank has left arm holding the elbow of his right arm, while his head leans against his right hand.

“Yeah, and this is the guy who knows how to do it. You start with a book, and then you do a media tour, corporate events, DVD, VHS series. I mean, there’s a whole fascinating science into how you roll these things out.” Richard continues.

“Wow.” Frank says, staring into space as if he was actually listening.

“Yeah, so he’s in Scottsdale right now, you know, building the buzz and kind of getting the whole hype thing going. He’s doing what the pros call a ticking clock auction.” He chuckles softly.

“Oh, how about that!” His brother in law says sarcastically, dropping his hands to his lap with a smirk on his face.

Tyler and Sheryl both try and hide their smiles at how quickly the conversation just changed. Richard, noticing the change in Frank’s demeanor, glances at him through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, and I can detect that note of sarcasm there, Frank.”

“What sarcasm?” He chuckles. “I didn’t…I didn’t hear it!”

“But I want you to know something.” Richard says, cutting him off. “I feel sorry for you.”

“You do? Good.”

“Yeah, I do. Because sarcasm is the refuge of losers.” He continues.

“It is? Really?” He says, his sarcasm very prominent now.

Sheryl keeps glancing between them, a smile growing with each comment.

“Yep. Sarcasm is losers trying to bring winners down to their level, and that’s step four in the program.” Richard says, holding up four fingers.

Tyler bites her lip and hides her face in Dwayne’s shoulder, not wanting to be caught laughing at his step-father.

“Wow, Richard! You’ve really opened my eyes to what a loser I am! Say, how much do I owe you for those pearls of wisdom?” Frank asks, looking at him.

“Oh, that one’s on the house, buddy.” He glances back at him. “It’s on me.”

“It is?!”

“Yeah, it’s on the house!”

“Okay, you guys. Enough.” Sheryl smiles, putting her hands out to defuse the situation.

They all begin to talk over each other, blaming each other. They were loud enough that Grandpa had woken up. Tyler shakes her head against Dwayne’s shoulder, giggling softly as he smiles, still staring out the window. Richard’s phone starts ringing, cutting off their play fighting.

“Wait a second!” He says, grabbing it from his belt clip.

“You’re so bad.” Sheryl says with a grin as she smacks her brother's knee.

He shrugs with his own smile, looking back out the window. In a way, it’s almost like they were back - years and years ago - when they were kids and goofing off like this. It was one of the few times growing up where they were actually on the same side as siblings, instead of at each other’s throats like most brothers and sisters.

“Quiet! This is that call!” Richard says, answering the phone. “Hello? Hello? Stan?”

He begins moving, trying to get a better signal. When the call cuts out, he immediately gets off the highway and pulls into a small gas station, making sure to park on the slight incline of the parking lot before rushing to the pay phone. Wanting to get out of the bus, Tyler and Dwayne get out of the vehicle, walking to a small patch of grass nearby. Sheryl opens her door and looks back at her daughter.

“Honey, I’m gonna use the ladies room. You need to go?” She asks, stepping out.

“No. I’m gonna go practice my routine over there.” Olive answers, getting out of her seat.

“Okay, well, don’t go too far.” She says, walking toward the gas station.

Realizing he hasn’t done any of his exercises that morning, Dwayne begins to do his push ups as Tyler sits beside him, pulling at the grass. Getting an idea, she uncrosses her legs and rests them on his back, leaning back on her hands as if she was reclining in a chair. He raises an eyebrow at her, pausing his movements for a split second before continuing his exercise.

After a few minutes, she has gotten bored and decides to tease him.

“Twenty four - twenty five - twenty six…”

He pauses and looks at her, glaring playfully. She starts laughing, tilting her head back.

“What?” She giggles. “Did you lose count?”

He shakes his head slightly and starts his push ups again, of course not telling her what number he’s starting on. It may be twenty seven now.

“Eight - nine - ten. Come on, Dwayne. I thought you could do more than that.” She teases, causing him to stop again. “Usually you’re at like eighty by now!”

Tired of her shit, he puts his knees down on the ground and sits back on them, causing her legs to fall off his back.

She raises an eyebrow. “What? You know that I’m…”

Before she can finish her sentence, he moves toward her, immediately tickling her sides. She squeals loudly, trying to push him off but he’s way stronger than her. She falls back so she’s laying down in the grass and he straddles her legs, tickling her more. She laughs, trying to fight him off but the Hoover boy is too strong for her.

Playfully throwing her arms away from her body, he continues to tickle her sides, a large smile lingering on his face.

“Uncle! Uncle!” She squeals, trying to get away from him.

He stops and looks down at her, the smirk very prominent now. She’s panting slightly from all the laughing and screaming. After a second, she calms down but pauses when she realizes how close their faces have gotten. His eyes widen slightly before sitting him with a small, but silent, cough. He stands up and puts his hand out, helping her up from the grass.

Both of their faces are red now, but neither one of them care. Still holding hands, they walk over to the bus. Grandpa notices the two teens are walking back so he gets out and gestures toward their shared seat as if he was Vana White. Dwayne nods his thanks while Tyler giggles softly at his antics as they get in.

After making sure that they’re comfortable, Grandpa gets back in. Tyler leans her head against his shoulder as they relax into the seats. He pulls his book out, wanting to get some reading done while they are parked, scooting closer to his best friend so she’s even more comfortable. After a few minutes, Grandpa speaks up as he tilts his head down.

“Christ, he’s not getting it.”

Tyler looks out the open door of the van to see Richard clearly in distress, meaning his phone call isn’t going as well as he hoped. Sighing to herself, she sits up slightly, knowing that the rest of the ride isn’t going to be very peaceful. Frank leaves the store with a plastic bag in one hand and a drink cup in another, an embarrassed look on his face.

When he steps into the bus, he tosses the plastic bag at Grandpa, meaning whatever he bought belonged to him. Before she can ask what happened, she notices Sheryl walking out of the gas station. A small smirk on her lips as she sits up and almost mimics Grandpa’s stance, wanting to know what happened.

“So what happened?” Sheryl asks as Richard hangs up the phone.

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here.” He says before walking toward the bus.

“Wait a minute.” She says, walking to catch up with him. “I thought you said this was a done deal?”

“He said it was a done deal.” He sighs, never slowing his walk.

“You didn’t get anything?” She asks but he never answers. “Where does that leave us?”

“Fucked. That’s where it leaves us.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Did you try negotiating…?”

Richard immediately turns toward her and snaps, trying to keep his voice down.

“Yes, I tried! What do you think…Let’s just go, okay?”

He sighs and gets into the driver’s seat but his wife wasn’t having it. She glares at him through the windshield, never even blinking. He narrows his eyes and leans his head out of the window.

“Let’s go!”

Walking around the car, never breaking her eye contact on him, Sheryl gets into the passenger seat and slams the door. He lets out a deep breath and starts the bus, allowing it to slowly roll down the hill he parked on. After a few minutes, they’re back on the highway, the bus completely silent. Dwayne starts to realize that they are down a person.

He leans over Tyler slightly to look over the seat, causing his best friend to raise an eyebrow. He ignores her and looks into the back of the bus where all the luggage is. He immediately grabs his notepad and scribbles a few words before handing it to his uncle. Frank takes the pad and reads aloud.

“Where’s Olive?”

Tyler’s eyes widen as she sits forward and looks over the seat, almost exactly like he did a few seconds earlier. Sheryl turns around and looks at the empty spot.

“Oh!”

Richard gets off the highway almost instantly and drives back to the gas station. Standing next to the phone booth is Olive, who has a large smile on her face as she sees the yellow VW bus driving into the lot.

Without slowing down, Richard drives by her, forcing her to run alongside it. The door slides open and Frank holds his arms out.

“Come on, Olive.”

She grabs onto his arms, and jumps into the bus, not caring that everyone they’re driving by is staring confused.

“I got her! I got her!” Frank chants slightly, moving over so Olive can sit in her seat.

Tyler and Dwayne let out a breath almost in sync. They can’t believe they let Olive get left behind. It was an accident but still! Something could have happened to her.

It’s been about an hour since they picked Olive back up and everyone besides her is tense. She’s the only one who doesn’t know that her father’s plan completely backfired and that her uncle just saw the guy he was in love with watch him buy porno mags for Grandpa. Tyler and Dwayne play hangman using his notepad, needing to keep their minds off the day that they’ve had.

The words she chooses are JET PLANE, but he’s not getting it, and he’s one move away from his stickman dying. Wanting to tell his son something, Edwin stands up and walks toward the front, kneeling in front of his granddaughter.

“Richard?”

“Yeah?” He sighs silently, not wanting his father to lecture him right this minute.

“Listen, whatever happens - you tried to do something on your own, which is more than most people ever do, and I include myself in that category. You took a big chance. It took guts and I’m proud of you.”

Not knowing if his father was being sincere, he sarcastically says, “Okay, dad. Thank you.”

Sheryl glances over at him with a look, meaning ‘he was just nice to you. What the hell?’. Edwin, wanting him to know he wasn’t being an asshole, puts his hand on his son’s shoulder and waits for a moment. When he removes his hand, Richard puts his hand up, his eyes never looking away from the road.

His father grabs his hand and shakes it slightly before walking back to his seat. Tyler, waiting for Dwayne to make his guess, reaches over and pats Edwin’s arm, silently informing him that he did a good job. He smiles slightly at her as he pats her knee and nods before looking out the window again. She looks down at the notepad and raises an eyebrow at Dwayne as he gets the words right.

He smirks at her before flipping the page, ready to go another round.

#dwayne hoover love story #dwayne hoover imagines #dwayne hoover imagine #dwayne hoover x reader #dwayne hoover fanfiction #dwayne hoover fanfic #dwayne hoover little miss sunshine #dwayne hoover

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orphancookie69 · 8 months

Text

How To: Driver's License Training!

So a family member taught me to drive, not my father-we are too close for that. In turn, I have taught my sisters to drive streets and freeways. It came up that my cousin needed some help and I was back on the job again! I thought, this would make a great post for anyone wondering how to do this for your own loved one.

First off, you need to make them figure out what car they are going to be driving to take the test in (and after) and have them take their written and visual test. If they put in that much work, you know it is worth it to put in the effort for the last part of the process. They need a car that is working/checked up, insured, and registered. Then both you and them need to read the current version of the DMV handbook. Even if you read it before, laws change (usually for the worst).

Link: California Driver's Handbook - California DMV

Day 1: Basics

Go over the vehicle as the instructor will do on the day of the test. This includes: driver window, windshield, rearview mirror, brakes, parking brake, emergency flasher, seatbelts, permit/license, registration, insurance. This is a great time to go over RPM and MPH and the fuel tank.

Licensed driver should then take the streets to a local mall and find an empty area to teach the basics, explaining signs and traffic lines as you encounter them on the street.

Permit driver should take the driver seat, licensed driver should take the passenger. It should be established here, or even before, that the licensed driver is in control and should instructions not be followed the wheel will get grabbed.

Permit driver should adjust the seat and the rearview mirror so that they can see around the car at all times and remind them to use both their eyes and their mirrors.

From here start with going forward in Drive and backwards in reverse. Do some straight ways getting up to 15 miles per hour and work on turns. Reverse is a little bit tricky as you don't turn the wheel the way you think you need to reverse the car. Try pulling into parking spots and hugging the lines on both sides. Stops and minding where other cars/people are in relation to you.

A couple of hours goes a long way, licensed driver should switch back and get the permit driver and their vehicle back home. Permit driver should rest up as they will be tired.

Day 2: Residential

Confidence should be increased, and today is a good day to up the ante slightly and put those basics into action.

Licensed driver arrives at Permit Driver's home. Licensed driver drives the vehicle on streets, explaining anything pertinent on the way over. Licensed driver should have identified a good neighborhood with big streets and lots of side streets to go to the day before. (bonus if you can have another vehicle in front for the car to follow to gauge closeness, speed, etc.)

Once they are at their location they need to switch. Permitted driver needs to set the seat and mirrors up for them.

Then driver or guide car shows them to go 15-25 mph on the straight streets, to slow into turns and speed out of them, to stop (starting at the STOP letters) fully before the white line, four way stops, who has the right of way, turns and signaling your intent, checking your mirrors, parking against the curb, going back in a straight line against the curb.

It is a good idea to start on bigger streets and then also put in a little bit of time on the permitted driver's local streets. Go bigger to smaller. I would also use a map on your smart phone in a safe location in your car to get the permitted driver used to hands free guidance.

A couple of hours goes a long way, licensed driver should switch back and get the permit driver and their vehicle back home. Permit driver should rest up as they will be tired.

Day 3: Streets

If you got the parking lot down and the housing streets down, its time for the next big game-streets! Today is a good day for streets and gas tips.

Licensed driver arrives at Permit Driver's home. Licensed driver should pick a location that is far enough away to get experience on but also minimal street changes. I would suggest a Costco or Sam's Club.

Permitted driver would set up the seat and the mirror, licensed driver would set up the navigation with the destination.

Permitted driver should be talked to about pedestrians, signal types, lane types, car closeness, drive 25-40 MPH, speed limit vs flow of traffic, signs.

Once you arrive at the destination you should stretch out your legs and give both parties a break.

Before leaving I would fill up the car, explaining the MPG and Tank capacity before doing so. Guide the permitted driver through which side their tank is on, how to prep, how to do, and how to finish.

Permitted driver should drive back. All parties should rest.

Day 4: Freeway

From the lot to the housing to the streets, once you start its hard to stop. Freeways are fast streets, but scary none the less. This particular day could be split up into 3 days easily.

Licensed driver arrives at permitted drivers house. Licensed driver needs to research what freeways are nearby and plan a route.

Licensed driver needs to explain the process: licensed driver goes on to freeway, stays in exit lane, gets off on the next freeway exit, routes back to the house.

Licensed driver talks to the permitted driver as they did what they just explained.

Once back, permitted driver gets in the car and sets up the seat and mirrors.

Permitted driver repeats what the licensed driver just did.

Once back, permitted and licensed driver confer.

If they are comfortable, proceed with the next step.

Licensed driver explains the next step: drive onto freeway, merge one lane over, pass the next exit, merge back into exit lane, exit freeway, route back to the house.

Licensed driver talks to the permitted driver as they did what they just explained.

Once back, permitted driver gets in the car and sets up the seat and mirrors.

Permitted driver repeats what the licensed driver just did.

Once back, permitted and licensed driver confer.

If they are comfortable, proceed with the next step.

Licensed driver needs to explain the process: the licensed driver will pick a destination to reach by freeway and proceed, drive onto freeway, stay on freeway/change freeways as needed, get off of freeway. The permitted driver would replicate the trip back.

Licensed driver talks to the permitted driver as they head to the destination.

Once at the destination, the permitted driver switches places. The licensed driver talks to the permitted driver as they are guided by maps.

Once back, permitted and licensed driver confer.

Day 5: DMV Stalking

This is where you can kind of put it all together. If the permitted driver feels comfortable enough, book the test. If not, pick the location and scout it out first.

Licensed driver arrives at permitted drivers house. Permitted driver needs to pick a DMV location. Set up navigation and have the permitted driver head there.

Once there, carefully follow another person taking their test and see what streets they take, what actions they do, and the licensed driver should take notes.

Once you have the route identified and the actions noted, replicate the test.

Practice as much as you need to.

Day 6+: Practice

Book your test, you know you can do it. Once you do, get as much practice in as you can. Offer to drive someone for an errand, practice the test with a family member. DO IT. I would suggest practicing at night, popping the hood of the car, learning about maintenance.

Day 7: Your Driving Test

You know your stuff. Don't feel bad if you don't pass the first time, half of this is skill and the other half is luck in getting a decent tester. When you are licensed, celebrate with a road trip!

This pace can be adjusted per each persons ability to grip the necessary information on each particular day. While there is a difference between what passes the test and what is more important day to day, note the difference in what the person is learning. Based on what you use more in your day to day as a driver, what would you add to this? What would you have liked to learn when you were first starting out?

#rant #pixabay #how to #drivers education #drivers test #license #DMV #DMV handbook #california #adulting #practice #streets #signs #residential #car #pedestrians #freeway

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rillette · 1 year

Note

saying lots of words to you because you gave me the liberty to

hal had a driver’s license that expired a decade ago. he forgets to get it updated because he’s always in space and doesn’t drive when he isn’t really and at some point he gets fined for it because he is unfortunate like that

kyle is a crystal girl because he moved from california to go to art school in new york of course he is. it’s nothing he really talks about but he just has a little shelf in his apartment for them and sometimes the other guys give him rocks and other things that they think he would like and they’re added to the collection

guy can mainly cook appetizer food, hard agree, but one of the things he did learn to cook well was chili for hal. he will never admit it.

i like to think john and kyle bonded really quickly. i’m so mad they retconned john being an architect because how cool is that in correlation to kyle being an artist and hal being a pilot and hal jordan aerospace engineer and how their minds work together/the way they make constructs

i think hal and ollie are good for eachother because of how fucking back they are at keeping their identities secret it’s so funny. they are like trying to rob a bank with a fake mustache as your only disguise leaving finger prints all over the crime scene. absurd those two

You're so right about hal's driver's license. I think he also forgets to update his tags and he gets pulled over for it a lot. I also think kyle would be a crystal girl, he's definitely got some space rocks on his shelf too! I think that guy learns recipes as a love language. He definitely learned how to cook something bizzare for tora, and he learned how to cook chili for hal and if anyone calls him out on it he blames it on owning a bar.

John and Kyle did bond fairly quickly from what I saw in the comics! I need to actually keep reading Kyle's run. For John. The GLs being a bunch of liberal arts majors and Hal will never not be funny to me. Hal opens his mouth to say a bunch of science bullshit and they all look at him like he's insane.

Ollie's mailman knows that he's the green arrow. Oliver Queen had the green arrow's mail. mailed to his apartment. And hal regularly just walked into Ollie's apartment in full GL regalia. I'd say they're doing their best but well.

#asks <3 #ty for the ask!!#it will never not be funny to me that ollie's mailman knows his identity #and the government figured out hal's identity in like two seconds flat bc he is just so so bad at keeping it secret #i washed the bleach out of my hair im hashtag blonde now u guys

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downwiththemoralmajority · 2 years

Text

Hitching a ride

Word count: 2742

Billie Joe Armstrong x OC

Warnings: live without warning!

Somewhere in California, back in 1994. It was my first concert and I’ve never been so excited. I was 18 years at that point and still lived at my parents home. It always was difficult to drive somewhere because I haven’t had a car yet nor a driver’s license. Thankfully I’ve had a lot of friends who were able to drive and my friend picked me up to get to the concert.

We’ve had a good evening and been sweating the whole time. It felt nice to get some fresh air after the concert. I had to say goodbye to my friend and that was the biggest mistake (or either the best decision) I’ve ever made in my life. She actually wanted to take me home but I maintained that I would take the bus. So far, so good. After saying goodbye I headed to the next call box to call my mother. Full of excitement I told her that I’ve never experienced such an amazing concert and that I’m fine, so she didn’t have to worry.

Right after I hung up someone pushed me to the side and immediately ran away. I didn't know what happened until I saw that a random guy stole my purse with all my money which was left to pay the bus ticket. One hour away from my house I stood there alone without any money. My eyes were suddenly filled with tears and started to burn. I swore to myself that I won’t cry in public. So I denied myself crying and breathed in. I sat down and stared down to the floor until someone touched my shoulder. Embarrassed, I looked up and recognized someone familiar. A blonde guy with a nose ring, crooked teeth and dirty clothes. This must’ve been Billie, the singer of the band I saw earlier. I didn’t even realize that their van was in front of the call box. Hasn’t he seen the guy who stole my purse? Apparently not.

„Are you okay?“, he asked. I was in trance so I didn’t notice that he talked to me. I looked into his green (and obviously red) eyes and caught a glimpse of empathy. He smiled and asked me again if I’m fine.

I tried to not sound whiny but promptly bursted into tears. I couldn’t say any word because I started to sob. Carefully he embraced me and I continued to sob but now harder than ever. It was so embarrassing.

„Don’t say anything“, he comforted me, „it’s okay. Whatever has happened to you, you’ll be better soon... Would you have a joint to come down?“

He was good at comforting because it was the funniest way ever to console someone. I stopped crying and smiled a bit. Gently he caressed my arm and helped me up. He leered and I honestly was smitten by his charm. „I knew it. Nobody can resist a joint.“, he joked. „Come into our van and tell me what’s going on.“ This would’ve been the part where I had to say no. It‘s actually pretty dangerous to go into a strangers van just to talk, I thought to myself. But he was the singer of a punk rock band so what should happen? I was so taken with him, more than I could ever imagine. And he obviously felt the same way because he suddenly grabbed my hand and led me to the van.

At one fell swoop he opened the rusty door and all I could see was the dirtiest interior a van could have. It smelled like beer, weed and other substances. The small table in the middle of the van was littered with papes, cigarette butts and transparent bags which was obviously used for something. And I couldn’t care less. Funnily it felt like home to me. I always loved the smell of weed. Since I was 15 I’ve been smoking joints. So it’s nothing new to me and what would I expect from a punk band in the mid nineties? Grouches who just sit on their couches and had fucked up kids? No, this guy with whom I hung up is the fucked up kid. And he deserved to have fun and kick ass. And I totally understood him.

„Sorry for the mess but our room service hasn’t been here yet. They’re always so fucking busy, you know?“

He was probably the funniest person I’ve ever met.

„How dare they!“, I responded, trying to sound as funny as Billie. He pretended that he’s actually a bit mad about it, stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head in disbelief. Immediately bursted into laughter and I had to laugh as well. He punched my arm like I’m one of his friends and looked at me with his sweetest and apparently most stoned smile. He grabbed a bag with smoking utensils and started to roll a joint for us two, lighted it up and passed it to me. I haven’t been smoking joints in a while because I was so focused on getting my homework done before I graduate this summer. It was almost there.

„Sit down and tell me about the issue. Did we play so bad that it made you cry? Yeah, we’ve had a lot of sound problems and Mike has been higher than me and Tré set his drums on fire and I almost burnt my fucking ass. I wanted to..“, I interrupted him with a laugh. „It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault. It was just a random guy who stole my purse after I called my mom on the phone and said that everything’s fine. Now I don’t have any money and can’t buy a bus ticket.“ My smile faded again. Billie narrowed his eyes. „What a fucking motherfucker! If I catch this guy I would punch the shit out of him.“, he said angrily. „He’s gone. You wouldn’t catch him anymore. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m gonna find a way to drive home.“, I lied. It was hopeless.

Billie smirked: „What if we could drive you home? I mean, I don’t know how far away your home is from here but fuck, someone hurt you and now I need to help you.“

I started to laugh. He was high as fuck and the other band members were probably stoned as well. How could they still drive? But in my heart of hearts I wanted them to bring me back home. I didn’t want to sleep at the bus station or dodge the fare. My parents would kill me. So I agreed. He noticed that I couldn’t believe it and clarified it:„You look worried. No, we won’t drive anymore. That’s up to our roadie. He can still drive. He doesn’t drink anymore, he was an AA.“ I was assailed by a feeling of relief and I nodded.

„Move closer.“, he summoned me. Deeply, he inhaled his joint, pulled my neck and blew the smoke in my mouth. That was the point. Without exhaling I dared to kiss him and he kissed me back. The smoke leaked out of our mouths and filled the room with special vibes. I moved closer and gave myself up to him. He tasted so good. No, he actually tasted like beer, weed and sweat. But after a concert everyone smells gross and probably I smelled disgusting too.

He moved and lay above me. I noticed something between my legs and knew that he was enjoying it. After a lot of kisses he looked down on me and asked quietly: „Tell me your name.“ He smiled and it made my heart melt. Do I really have a crush on him? I didn’t even know him. I just saw him playing at their concert and I haven’t even known this band before. I normally had a thing for Led Zeppelin or Deep Purple. I couldn’t believe I was making out with a punk rocker.

Smiling, I replied: „My name’s Lauren. I'm 18 years old and I’m originally from Germany.“ He actually just wanted to know my name and it was probably the weed which made talkative. His eyes opened as if he'd never seen a German before. But not in a strange way. He looked surprised. „Fuck, I didn’t notice that you’re German. Why don’t you wear a dirndl?“, he laughed. I didn’t even feel offended by his question. It’s all-American to think that every German wears a dirndl or leather pants, drinks beer and eats bretzels. Sarcastically, I replied: „Well, I changed the clothes before the concert. I thought it was inappropriate to wear such a dress at a punk rock concert. But I’ve got a lot of dirndl at home. You wanna see? I like the pink one with glitter the most.“ I tried to look serious but couldn’t refrain from laughter. „You’re quick at repartee. This turns me on.“ He continued to smooch. His hands were all over my body when we’re suddenly interrupted by a bang. „I think we have some guests.“, he said disappointedly. „Fuuuck, I can’t open the door. Someone locked the door. Let me in and leave me some pot.“, a guy, obviously one of the band members, screamed in front of the door. Bustling, he pulled the door and was still not able to open it. Apparently, he was drunk. „TRÉ you cockhead! PUSH the door! Don’t pull.“, Billie screamed. Tré pushed the door and fell into the van. He babbled: „I’m totally drunk!“ He stood up and took a look at us. „Oh hell, who’s that groupie?“, he asked, confused. I sarcastically answered: „Hey sweetheart, my name is Candy. Do you want some candy? I have a lot of it in my pants.“ Tré, as drunk as he was, didn’t get what I meant. He straightened up, moved closer to me and shook my hand: „Hi Candy. I actually don’t want candy. I just want some HERBS!“ He screamed as he said the last word and I winced. He continued: „Sorry Candy, I almost forgot my name. My name is Tré, Tré Cool because I’m tré cool.“ He spoke in a French accent. I kind of like him. His green hair is smutty and sweaty just like his face and clothes. But his smile was catching. The other drunk band member entered the van. He greeted me: „Hello, I’m Mike.“ He pretended to fuck Tré from behind and lay down on the other couch. To me he seemed a bit calmer than Billie and Tré but he was just totally drunk and tired. He immediately began to sleep as he lay down. „Hella nice, I don’t even have to roll a joint.“, Tré said as he found the joint we’ve been smoking before starting to make out. He took some puffs and lay down on the couch where Mike slept. „Good Night, my fellows! Tré is drunk and sleepy and stoned and wants to take a nap.“, he babbled. „Tré, wait! Where is Eddie? When will he come back?“, Billie needed an answer because he still wants his roadie to drive me home. He smoked a lot of weed but was still able to keep things in mind. Sleepy, Tré opened his eyes and replied: „10 or 20 minutes. He’s still talking to the hosts. Good night, Billie. Good night, Candy.“ I was so mean. He still didn’t know my real name. It didn’t matter because I wouldn't see those guys again, I thought. 10 to 20 minutes. I should’ve been home actually. It would be a one hour drive if I took the bus. The roadie should hurry because my parents would still kill me.

Billie noticed my anxiety. He stood up and said: „Stay here, Lauren. I will have a look. I’ll be back soon. Don’t be afraid. These guys are nice and they’re sleeping at the moment. They won’t hurt you.“ I believed him and let him go. After he left the van I took a look at the furniture. There were two couches on each side covered with some blankets and pillows, a small wooden table in the middle of the room, Venetian blinds to cover the tiny windows. The van was full of stickers of different bands and organisations. It was actually really dirty and smelly in here but the more you sat here the more you got used to it. I felt comfortable and it was probably because of Billie. The guy I had a crush on. After 5 minutes of waiting I heard noises from outside. It was Billie and another guy. I hoped it was the roadie. Billie entered the van again and wanted to know: „Lauren, I need to know where you live. I asked Eddie if he could bring you back home and he’s gonna do it.“ I almost cried. I jumped up and hugged and kissed Billie because I was so relieved. He kissed me back. With tears in my eyes, I told him where I live and gave him a lot of kisses. „Thank you, Billie. Thank you so much. That means so much to me. Thanks.“ I couldn’t stop saying thank you. Passionately, he kissed me and headed to Eddie.

The roadie sat down on the front seat and started the van. Billie entered the van again and closed the door.

We drove down the slip road and reached the street.

„It will take us 30 min to drive you home. So your parents won’t even notice that you’ve been away longer.“, Billie mentioned and I lay in his arms again.

We laid on the couch for a long time without saying anything. It was just Billie and me. I felt comfy and safe in his arms and I didn’t want to miss a single thing.

He caressed my head and started talking again: „What are you doing when you’re not at our concerts? How long have you been living here? Teach me some German.“ „Well, I go to school but I will graduate in one month. I’ve been living here in the US for 12 years. We usually speak German at home because my dad doesn’t like the English language. It wasn’t that easy for me to get used to it because I’ve barely spoken English at home but school helped me a lot. Hm, I’m good at drawing, writing and playing guitar. I want to be a journalist. I’ve taken some writing classes in school and I wrote a lot of articles for the school‘s magazine. After graduating I’m gonna leave the States and go back to Germany, to the roots. I want to learn more about the culture and the people. And there I want to study journalism. I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna take German or bilingual classes. Someday I want to work for a music magazine, maybe The Rolling Stone. I don’t know when I will come back to the US again. I will finish my studies in Germany at least. It could be 5 years or 10 years. I don’t know. Anyway, I really like the word Schnuckiputz. Can you pronounce it? It literally means cutiepie. Keep it in mind. I would like to teach you some German but I’m kinda tired at the moment. I just want to be here with you and cuddle.“

He held me closer and kissed my forehead. He replied: „You’re gonna be successful. You will rock your studies and be the most brilliant writer.“ He sounded sad.

I almost fell asleep but suddenly the van stopped. I was at home. The roadie parked at the end of the street so we wouldn’t wake up my parents. It was near the bus station. I just had to walk for a few minutes. Sadly, I stood up and looked at Billie. He seemed very tired and so was I.

„Thank you Billie. That was so nice of you and your Roadie to bring me home. You literally saved my life.“, I said quietly so it wouldn’t wake the other guys.

„Don’t mention it. I would do it again any time, Schnuckiputz.“, he whispered. These were the last words I’ve heard from him. He gave me a last kiss. Passionately. With all of his heart. I felt like he didn’t want me to leave him. It was the hardest goodbye. I left the van and went home.

I will miss you, he thought.

#bja #billie joe armstrong #billie joe armstrong fanfic #green day fanfic

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