#some fucking guy that interacts with those same people i admired for a year ish 3 or 4 now if youcount the years of interaction
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i
i'm just
someitmes i jut kinda
scroll through old things
and self-esteem likes to kinda. takea jab at ya, you know?
#like#a majority of you guys#a quite large part of rtumblr actually#were like#people i admired.#that i thought woah they're so cool#and i've seen your like different social medias and content#sometimes without realising they're the same person#and like. i'm going fan mode at that time because 'woah so awesome they're my idol'#and then#i'm. here now#somehow just#some fucking guy that interacts with those same people i admired for a year ish 3 or 4 now if youcount the years of interaction#that makes joke and has. nicknames for them too#talking and having conversations#fuck man i'm just#.#there.#ya'll are so. cool. and funny and shit. and i've watched some of you guys. on tumblr youtube deviantart etc some before i even had accounts#for those same websites#so like. it wasn't known and stuff#and i'm just. here now. all of a sudden.#shit i jut i don't know#it's weird#i'm. just going to go spam reblogs on a bunch of posts to wash this away#i don't even know why i typed and published this maybe to just. get it out there for my comfort#sorry that was strong#i just. this fact these scenarios and events#they kinda. off-set me. disorienting type of stuff#i'm not used to this type of shit sorry
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All Love II Jeff Wittek
word count: 3k-ish (she a big baaaby)
summary: I got inspired by All Love by Fletcher... so I guess that explains it?...
note: English isn't my first language.. so plss excuse my mistakes ✨
tw: mention of drugs, drinking (tell me if there are more?)
Jeff’s and your story goes way back. Him being a friend of one of your older cousins, made his face a familiar one in your neighborhood. Although you didn’t see him very often nor interacted with him in any way, you knew who he was. You remembered his face, recognized his eyes and always reminded yourself of his beautiful smile. He was the barber boy from the shop across the street. The handsome guy from around the corner, involved in far too many erroneous decisions. You saw him cutting peoples hair, always admiring his work ethic at such a young age. You heard your cousin dropping his name in stories he told you and your siblings about stuff they did together, for which they did or did not get caught for. Jeff Wittek wasn’t a stranger to you, but you wouldn’t consider him a friend either.
That changed when you reconnected with him a few years later. Both of you chasing your dreams in Miami Beach, not knowing from each other's presence in the city of the sun. The two of you bumped into each other at a party, hosted by one of Jeff’s closest friends, who coincidentally also was an acquaintance of one of your friends. As you spotted him in the crowd of people, smoking a cigarette you assured yourself that he couldn’t recall who you were. For one thing because he was fairly intoxicated and for another thing because you didn’t even know if he knew your name in the first place. You being the little cousin of one of his friends from back home. Why would he even remember your face?
Even though you were sure that he wouldn’t recognize you, you tried your best to avoid an encounter with him. Whenever he looked in your direction, you quickly turned away. When he somehow came closer to where you were, you searched for an excuse to disappear. You didn’t even know why you were so afraid and nervous to stand in front of him, but you continued your hiding nonetheless.
After a very successful night of preventing to meet him, and after you saw him leave the party, you decided it was time to celebrate your performance with a drink. You went to the nearest bar and tried to order yourself a cocktail when a tall man decided to fill the empty space next to you. „Heeeyy“ he introduced himself while he semi-leaned towards your small frame, his hands placed on the counter. „Hi“ you responded shortly, smiling with closed lips as you noticed it was him who was standing right next to you.
Although your eyes deliberately went in the opposite direction than he was standing, he reclined back and squinted his eyes before he asked you „do I know you?“. You quickly shook your head and nervously tapped on the counter in front of you. „I don’t think so…“ you answered, still not returning his gaze. His eyes scanned your figure up and down before he pointed at you and rephrased his statement „I do know you!“ now sure about his cognizance. „I think you are mistaking me…“ you uttered tremulously, your hands fidgeting with your own fingers. Your level of uncomfortableness increasing by the minute, as his inebriated breath created a veil around your face. „I do…“ he objected trying very hard to recollect his memory.
„Shiiiit..“ he spit out when he finally realized, elongating on the vocal „you’re from back home right?“ he spluttered before he put one of his hands on your shoulder to use you as a strut, demising the possibility of him falling down. You let out a little gasp as your gaze went to his hand. Looking at his long fingers nestling your naked shoulder. „You are from Staten Island! Aren’t ya’?“ he questioned you, exaggerating on his accent, his hand back on the counter and a big smile decorating his face, now very sure about his recognition. You breathed out at the sudden loss of physical contact. „Holy shit you really grew up, didn’t ya’?“ he mentioned while he scanned your whole body again. „Fuck, does Leo know that you run around looking like that?“ his words spoken while he pointed his finger at your outfit, a cigarette placed between his digits.
Still intimidated by the tall brunette standing next to you, you cleared your throat, gathered all your strength and spoke up „…that's not of his concern“. You breathed out, looking for the bartender, pleased and proud of your confident demeanor. Although you didn’t look at him, you noticed how his smile got even bigger, showing his perfect teeth as he finished the last pull of his smoke. „Well, certainly not anymore huh?“ he admitted right before he called the bartender, apparently another friend of his, to order drinks for the two of you.
During the rest of the night he didn’t left your side for one second. He told you about his friends, explained what he was doing if he wasn’t attending parties and gave you an extensive heads-up about places you shouldn’t go to. You friendly declined his offer of him walking you home but surrendered as he insisted on doing it anyways. Since your friend, which promised you to go home together, left the party with a random dude, it was safer for you to be accompanied by Jeff then going home all by yourself. „I hope to see you around y/n..“ he confessed when he was about to leave your apartment building. You took a last look into his eyes, nodded and let him vanish in the darkness of the night.
Although you tried your best not to spend much time with Jeff, you couldn’t avoid the fact that the two of you grew inevitably closer. Part of the reason being that two of your friends started dating, which particularly forced you to spend more time together. And the other one being that both of you shared the same hometown, which made you just relate to one another on a level no-one could really understand. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy Jeff’s company, but you wouldn’t admit to it either. Neither to your friends and certainly not to Jeff himself.
In virtue of your and his friends group colliding you found yourself run in the wrong circle of people. The ones your family and especially your cousin Leo always warned you about. But Jeff, keeping his promise to Leo, watched out for you and tried his best to keep you out of the affairs. He always told you not to try the drugs some of your friends were doing, although it were his friends that brought them to the table. He revealed horror stories of downfalls some of his friends had, while you saw the same things happening to your acquaintance. He tried his best to keep you on the right path. And his effort finally made you realize, that Miami isn’t the right place for you.
One night when all of your and his friends were partying in a penthouse, he begged you not to drink too much. Even though you were extremely annoyed by all the restrictions he already made for you, you obeyed him, not wanting that night to end in an argument. So instead of getting drunk, to keep up with intoxicated people, you just drank until you felt a little tipsy. You thought he just wanted to keep his promise to Leo. That he didn’t want you to do something stupid that you would regret someday. But in reality he just wanted you to be at least semi-sober for the very first kiss he was about to give you that very night.
He walked you home, a habit the two of you adapted during the last few weeks of being friends. He gave you his jacket, embracing you in warmth filled with a mixture of the smell of cigarettes but most importantly his incomparable sent. He tried to take smaller steps for you, since your small body couldn’t keep up with his pace. And that in spite of getting more and more nervous with every street the two of you passed. He felt his heart beat faster with every step he took. His fingers getting shaky as he brought you closer to your place.
When you finally stood in front of your entrance, searching for your keys, he took them out of his pocket. „Looking for those doll?“ he asked, swallowing away all the insecurities he had before and making a small step in your direction. You nodded lightly at the sight of your keys, a strand of hair falling down in front of your face. Jeff stepped forward and put the keys in the looker, your back now pressed against the entrance of your apartment.
You looked up into his darkened brown eyes, your lips parted as you breathed out slowly, feeling his somewhat alcoholized breath against your skin. „Fuck…“ he said with his raspy voice, making you smell the drink he has drunk that evening. You swallow your uncertainty, your head fell back on the door just by the thought of tasting the liquor his lips enjoyed just hours ago. He breathed out, his gaze still focused on you „I promised Leo to protect you…“ he started slowly. „Keeping an eye on you…“ he continued while putting the fallen down strand of hair back behind your ear. „Making sure you don’t get in trouble…“ getting more and more quiet and closer to your face with every word he spoke. „But fuck y/n…“ his arms now resting on each side of your head, as if there is a protective shield around your body that doesn’t allow him to touch you. His lips not even an inch away from yours now „I can’t resist you anymore…“ he whispered almost inaudibly before he broke the guarding shield by pressing his lips on yours. You tasted the smoke on his tongue, the booze on his lips and the lust in his quiet moans. He pressed you against your door, your hands tangled up in his hair while he lifted you up, pulled you closer by your waist and opened the door for you to finally get in.
The two of you thought it was the first and last time that this had happened. But after just that one breathtaking night you shared, tangled up in your sheets, both of you carved for more. Therefore, drunk hookups turned into casually sleeping with each other. Eventually even when sober. You tried to keep it a secret, but the looks you gave each other and the ‘coincidently going home at the same time’ - every time - made your friends catch on rather fast. There was no denying that you had a thing for each other. But it was never anything too serious. Both of you just living in the moment. No rush and no need to put labels on a thing that could change any second. It was a fast life you had on the east coast. And it changed way faster than each one of you could have imagined.
After all you had to end your little ongoing amorous adventure for the simple reason that life had other plans for you. An opportunity to fulfill your career dreams coaxed you to move away. So that’s what you did. Leaving the barber boy alone in the city of the sun. And since you’ve been gone, shit quickly went down for him. Though you kept in touch with each other and though you told him ‚not to fuck up‘ , he changed when you left. So it wasn’t even a surprise when your cousin called you to tell you, that Jeff had to go to jail.
-
A few years later you sat in one of your favorite bars, enjoying the night with some of your closest friends. Pleased with where you were in live and what you have achieved in those past few years. You worked your butt off just to celebrate your promotion for a highly regarded position. A thousand cups of coffee, endless sleepless nights and sacrificed relationships finally paid off, just so you can finally celebrate your accomplishment. Yet your mood to party shifted when you saw a familiar face entering the crowded room. Happiness overcame you for a second, while you looked into those known and unmatchable deep brown eyes. How long has it been? You questioned yourself. Wanting nothing more than to catch up with the handsome man who you haven’t seen in ages.
But your mood quickly changed after you saw him holding hands with another girl, walking right behind him. It took a while for him to notice your presence in-between those random faces, but after your eyes met he didn’t hesitate to make his way up to you. And before your brain could deal with the situation and even before your feelings could cope with the shock, he was already standing in front of you. „Y/n!“ he said in excitement, giving you a one-armed hug. Yet that’s enough for you to take in his acquainted scent. Even though there is no more indication for the smell of cigarettes, it brought back so many old memories.
You tried to say something, but there was an ache in your throat that prevented you from making a sound. „She is an old friend of mine…“ he explained and avoided the possibility of an awkward moment of silence as well as introducing you to the girl which was standing right by his side. You waved at her, smiling politely after she introduced herself to you „How have you been?“ he asked you curiously with a big smile on his face, eyes lighten up when he put one of his arms around his company. You hesitated for a second, eyes pierced at his hand curving around the waist of the woman in his hold. Trying to manage the situation before you finally began to talk „I’m…“ you start, returning his gaze before recollecting yourself once again and starting anew, „I’m doing fine…“ you lied, a convincing smile conjured up on your face to conceal the sadness which was building up inside of you. „We should-“ he started, right before someone of his friends screamed his name. He apologized genuinely for the sudden interruption. However, he promised to catch up with you through the course of the night, before he left you and you friends alone.
„Who was that?“ a friend of yours asked you abuzz in excitement. „An old friend…“ you answered with a crack in your voice. Purposely repeating his words as your gaze followed his figure. You felt your throat closing with every step he took bringing distance between your bodies. You bit your inner lip, your eyes close to tears. But instead of drowning in melancholy you remembered the reason for your celebration. So you tried to stop the waiter just to ask her „Can we get another round of shots please?“
With every shot you took, you tried to forget about the looks he used to give you, when your eyes met his. Tried to forget about those late night walks on the beach, admiring the stars and talking about anything and everything. To forget how loved he made you feel when you shared a bed with him and spend days not leaving it. With every shot you just wanted to numb your heart the same way that the burning liquor was actually just numbing your brain.
It wasn’t a secret that you thought about him from time to time. His name popped in your head whenever you talked to your cousin, which wasn’t as often as it used to be, yet you asked yourself what Jeff has been up to, when Leo didn’t mention him. Because he was indeed your favorite memory of your days in Miami. Still wondering if your name ever crosses his mind. If he remembers the moments the two of you shared with each other. If those were happy reminiscences, or if you were not more than just a short fling for him.
As the night went on you tried not to be too obvious about your looks towards his new group of friends. However you were too nosey about where he was or what he was doing. That’s when you saw his face buried in the nape of her neck. He gave her little kisses on her throat until he made his way up to her lips. His eyes small, dimples deep and just full of happiness. The smile which was plastered on his face, one you knew just too well. Yet it wasn’t determined for you anymore. It felt like a thousand knives were stabbed in your body all at once. Like your lungs cut off all your air, stopping you from breathing, making you suffocate from the pain. You smiled approvingly at her after she glanced at you. Her eyes full of happiness, while yours almost begun to fill with tears.
Before things could get worse your body robotically squeezed itself through the masses of people until you made your way outside, trying to gasp for some air. Whilst you took a deep breath you felt your body calming down again.
You gave your thoughts the chance to understand and tried to comprehend the situation as you went to a nearby parking lot. Although you know you shouldn’t do it, your mind made you question yourself. What does she got that you don’t have? Comparing your noticeable similarities and your striking differences. Your eyes almost the same color. Is it because she is taller than you? Your hair about the same length. Or because she has a cuter nose then yours? After a few more terrible comparisons you realized that it doesn’t lead to anything. Besides everything that made him fall for her, she also had the courage to fall for the man you’ve always admired.
Your gaze went up to the sky, trying to see at least some starts in between the dirty nightlights. A few tears fell down your cheek as you thought about your days in Miami. But instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to be happy for your friend. That, regardless how many wrong decisions he made, it ended more then well for him.
Right before you came clean with that and made your way back to the bar to continue the celebration, a familiar voice stopped you.
"y/n?"
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Two times you knew where you were going and one time you didn’t
So that Matthew fic turned into a Matthew Tkachuk one (thanks @hockeyfutbolkpopyeah !). It just didn’t fit with Gryz when I started writing it, but I have a Gryz reqeuest it’s just 3:30 in the morning and I’m teaching in less than 7 hours so I should probably be going to sleep if I want to teach them the correct stuff. This is longish though, I hope you like it!
_____________________________________
“We need to plan a vacation. I’m tired of being stuck inside with nothing to do.” You throw your book that you’ve been staring blankly at to the other side of the room, it sliding across the floor before hitting the wall. “You’ve been going on trips all year while I’ve been here, working, like a boring normal person.” Your boyfriend, Matthew, was in the kitchen, not even thirty feet away, making you dinner while you were ninety percent sure he either wasn’t listening to you, or couldn’t hear you. “Can we take a road trip? Like, go all cliche college girls with the snacks, the playlists, the Airbnbs around the country?”
“Well,” he puts down the knife from whatever he was chopping up, “Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know” you shrug, walking to the kitchen. He turns to you, putting his hand on his hip, one eyebrow raised, giving you a look that says, ‘really?’ “You look ridiculous with your hand on your hip.” You can’t help but laugh as you try to move his hand off.
He snaps it away, a smile growing on his face as a laugh leaves his lips. “What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Oooh!” you say, draping your arms around on his shoulders while he pulls you in by the waist, “I saw this thing on Pinterest where -”
“No, not Pinterest.” Matthew groans.
“Yes, Pinterest, shut up,” you snap. You were female who loved aesthetic, how could you not be on Pinterest all the time? “But I saw this couple was trying to decide on their next vacation destination, kind of like you and me, and they got this map and threw a dart at it, and they just went where the dart landed.”
He stares at you for a moment, brow scrunched as he’s thinking. Either that or he’s questioning what other crazy ideas you can think of and why he’s with you in the first place. He’s said stuff like that before, sarcastically, of course, so you wouldn’t be shocked if this was one of those moments. “That might not be the worst idea. Then we don’t have to deal with your constant, ‘I don’t know’ stuff.”
“So, let’s get a map?”
The map and darts came in two days later to your apartment. As you hung up the map on the wall, Matthew started, “Aren’t we going to put wholes in the wall if we throw darts at it?”
“Yeah, and? You paid the security deposit, not me,” you joke.
“Oh, shut up.”
You stand back, dart in hand, “Who’s throwing, you or me?”
“You can’t aim for shit.”
“Ok, Mr. Ten-Goal-Season.”
“The season just started! Ten goals is good!” he defends himself, his cheeks turning red.
“Can I throw it?” you beg, giving him the puppy dogs eyes that get him to say yes to you always.
“We’re gonna end up in the fucking ocean,” he mutters as both of you stand back for you to throw the dart.
“If it lands in the ocean then you better learn how to swim because this is the determining dart,” you say as-a-matter-of-factly, winding up to throw. You chuck it, just praying that it sticks so Matthew will shut up about your inability to throw things.
“And we’re staying on land!” he yells, running to the map.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to New Orleans!”
One
The entire drive was spent with you and Matthew switching off driving every six-ish hours, six shifts total, three shifts each, playfully criticizing each other’s driving at least four times per shift. The only time you stopped was for food, the bathroom, or to switch drivers. The two of you sang off-key to every song for hours on end.
“Babe, where are we even staying?” he asks you. You had programmed the address into your phone for the Airbnb, but you guess you forget to show Matthew where it was.
“We’re staying in the French Quarter: we get the entire villa, there’s Wifi, parking, a kitchen, only one bed.” He gives you a quick glance as you do that annoying flirty eyebrow wiggle that makes him laugh every time.
“Ooo, you should have told me about the one-bed thing before. That seems like a real deal-breaker for this trip. I think we have to turn around and go home.”
“Oh, shush, you know you love me,” you tease.
“Well, duh. You think I would put up with your crap if I didn’t?” That stupid smile that makes you melt shows up on his face. “I think we’re here?”
“We are!” You leap out of the car, leaving Matthew to get the bags while you follow the directions the host left you to get the key. You burst through the door, Matthew following suit, “J’adore!”
“You know that just means ‘I love,’ right?”
You turn to him, shocked, “You know French?”
“Vous seriez surpris de ce que je sais.” He winks, pushing past you to go explore the rest of the villa.
“What did you say?” you yell to him, trying to find where he went.
“You’d be surprised what I know.”
You follow his voice and find him in the bedroom. “And what do you know?” you ask him, leaning against the doorway.
“Well, I know that we both want to go explore New Orleans, but we’re both too tired right now.”
“Well, yeah.”
“But,” he starts again, “I also know that there is at least one activity we aren’t too tired for.” He walks up to you, putting his hands on your waist, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.
His lips ghost yours, you doing everything you can to let the teasing last a little longer, “What’s that?” He knows how much you love this.
“This,” he lets out, lifting you up and kissing you, you wrapping your legs around his waist as he stumbles to the bed. He throws you down, climbing over you, starting to tug at your shirt as he leaves a trail of kisses from your jaw down to your collar bone.
The two of you spend the rest of the night in bed, going to sleep more exhausted than you were when you got there.
The next morning, Matthew wakes you up by starting to jump on the bed. “It’s early, we need coffee, and we need to start exploring!” he yells like a toddler, jumping off the bed, landing so hard on the ground you were sure he broke something.
“You’re fucking annoying.”
“Yes, but I’ll be less annoying once we go to Cafe du Monde, which I know your mother loves, and you two have the same taste, so I’m like ninety percent sure that you will love it, too. Plus you said you wanted to go there, so might as well do it first so we can get caffeine and energy!” he practically yells from the bathroom.
“You don’t need any more energy!” you yell back. He could go from being a child to being how he was last night in 0.2 seconds. You really did love this boy, despite the pest that he always was.
You get up out of bed and try to get ready with Matthew practically on top of you, forcing you to get ready fast while he hands you dry cereal to eat so you’re not as cranky when you have to interact with more people. You put on olive green floral shorts, a plain white top, and some sandals, and try to find your bag in the mess that Matthew made of your stuff trying to unpack at some point last night.
“Are we driving or walking?” he asks, turning around to face you as you meet him by the door, “Fuck,” he whispers, “If I didn’t want to explore the city so bad, I’d want to explore you right now.”
You throw your head back, letting out a cackle that would cause any other guy to break up with you. “That was disgusting,” you say, taking his hand, “and let’s walk. Decatur Street is like ten minutes away, and it’s gorgeous out.”
“Not as gorgeous as you, though,” he flirts, trying to keep his corniness going.
“Shut up,” you say, not hiding the smile on your face.
The two of you leave, ready to explore New Orleans in the summer heat, walking in the morning to the world-famous cafe. Your parents had gone to New Orleans a year before you were born, and your mom bought a Cafe du Mondo mug that she still uses all these years later, faded, chipped, and probably going to fall apart if she even looks at it the wrong way.
“We have to get her a new mug. The next time she sees us, we will definitely be bumped up on the ‘favorite children list.’” You start rambling and walking just a little faster, doing a little skip on the sidewalk as he tries to keep up with your pulling him towards the cafe.
“Am I one of her children?” he asks.
“She probably loves you more than I do, God only knows why,” you tell him, rolling your eyes, him knowing that it’s probably true.
“Well, I am pretty great,” he says, kissing your cheek as you approach the cafe.
“Wow.” You admire the already busy cafe, the people sitting outside under the green and white awning, laughing, smiling, reading, eating, drinking. “Can I be annoying?”
“You need permission?”
“Can I get a picture of you in front of the cafe? Please?” you beg him, taking out your phone. “You know how much my mom would flip if she knew we came to her favorite place in the world?”
“Why don’t we get someone to take a picture of the two of us? Excuse me?” he stops a stranger walking by, “Would you mind taking some pictures of me and my beautiful girlfriend? It’s for her mother.”
He hands the person his phone, pulling you towards him. He stands behind you, his arms wrapped around you, kissing your cheek as you can’t help but blush and smile by how loving he was being. The stranger hands back his phone, you two thanking them profusely as you go to get into the long line and figure out what you want for your breakfast.
“So do we want to be cliche and get what they’re famous for, or do you want to get something else?” you ask him. “The beignets are to die for and my mother has never shut up about how she’ll never have anything as good as them, so we kind of have to get those. And then the cafe au lait is supposed to be great and I think you would love that, but I need black coffee, so I might just steal a sip of yours?” you spit out at him as you get closer to the front of the line.
“I have no clue what you just said. You’re ordering for us and I’m trusting you this time.”
“Ooo, that’s dangerous, isn’t it?” you tease him, getting up to the front of the line. You order the beignets and coffees, stepping off to the side since all the tables were full. If you had to walk and eat, you didn’t really care. You got to be with Matthew, your probably crappy aim bringing you into what was quickly becoming one of your favorite places on this planet, even though it had only been about an hour.
You get your beignets, taking a bite as you walk around and explore more of the area. “Holy, fuck,” you say, mouth full, “this is amazing. I want to marry this beignet.”
“That’s going to be pretty hard if you eat it.”
“I want to marry the person who made this beignet.”
“As your boyfriend, should I be offended by this?”
“You have competition. Become a beignet boy and I’ll reconsider.”
He throws his head back, laughing. “Where to next?”
Two
You spent the rest of the day exploring the French Quarter, roaming aimlessly, getting strangers to take pictures of you everywhere you went. Every photo you took was your new favorite.
“Let’s go to the French Market tomorrow,” you tell Matthew, settling into bed. You two were exhausted; way too exhausted to do anything else. The two of you had walked like twenty miles during the day. You actually probably didn’t but it felt like it. The sun had drained you, giving Matthew a little pink on his cheeks, you knowing to reapply sunscreen enough times that you were fine.
“Sure,” Matthew mumbles, falling asleep.
-----
“Three centuries of history, six blocks of shopping?” you exclaim as you get to the French Market. You had been googling the history of the market the entire Uber ride over, talking Matthew’s ear off about it, him pretending to listen because he really doesn’t care as much about history as you do. You were excited for another day of walking. If you weren’t here, you would probably be just sitting on the couch, reading, watching Netflix, and complaining to Matthew about how you were bored.
“So, do we want to do food or shopping first?”
“Shopping we need to work up an appetite,” you tell him, dragging him into the market. You wanted to walk all the way through first, pass each place, then go into the stores on the way back to the entrance when it was time to leave. You pointed out so many places that you wanted to go into; Evan’s Creole Candy Factory, Head to Toe, Pop Shop, Cella’s Boutique, Matthew only really caring about the first one, but he came with you because he knew you wanted him to.
“Sports!” he yells, trying to drag you to the only sports-themed shop in the market: N’Awlin’s Sports. He starts running towards the store, faster than a kid running to a candy store, both of you almost dropping the bags of stuff you had purchased in the meantime.
As soon as the two of you enter the store, he stops, takes in a breath, and says, “I love you, but if you can marry beignet’s, I’m marrying sports.”
“You’re already married to sports, babe,” you say, smiling because of how happy he was. You knew that you were dragging him around. But every time you looked at him with a smile, one grew on his face, too. He loved seeing you happy, and you loved seeing him happy.
“I don’t see any hockey stuff.”
“There’s no hockey in Louisiana. The closest team is probably Dallas?” you guess.
“That’s dumb.” He just stands there, looking a little defeated because his beloved sport wasn’t represented in the store.
“Let’s go outside, I’m sure we can find something you like to look at,” you say, pulling him out of the store.
“I like to look at you.”
“Gross,” you laugh, “Let’s have someone take our picture like we did yesterday!”
Doing the same thing as he did outside Cafe du Monde, Matthew convinced a stranger to take your picture. This time, he insisted on hugging you, kissing your cheek while you looked into the camera, beaming. You both loved the photos from yesterday, especially the cute lovey ones, so why not take some more?
Plus one
“I’m stuffed,” you say, trying to stretch out as much as you can in the chair of the restaurant without risking hitting another patron or a waiter.
“You picked a good place,” Matthew admits, raising his glass to you to finish the last bit of his drink. This was the only place you had been today; after the last two days of running around and exploring, you two had just decided to take a lazy day. When you realized it was dinner time and the only food you had was snack food, you knew you had to go out for dinner.
“I’m marrying the chef,” you say.
“No, I am,” he spits back.
“Guess we both are.” You shrug, finishing the last bit of your drink as the waiter comes back with Matthew’s debit card.
“Ready to go?” He stands up, reaching out for your hand to lead you out of the restaurant.
“Sure, where?”
“Oh, you’ll see.”
“You don’t know this city well enough for me to trust you when you say that.”
“Will ya just shush and trust me?” A smile sneaks onto his lips as he leads you down the road.
“Where are we?”
“The Moonwalk.” The two of you start walking down a long path, overlooking the Mississippi. It was gorgeous, buzzing with people, lit up by the street lights and the shine of the nearly full moon overhead. There was something magical about it, you had never seen anything like it.
“And to think, we came here because of a dart.” You approach some musicians playing a song you swore you knew, couples dancing to the slow beat. Matthew took you by the waist, you draping your arms around his neck as you followed the rest of the couples.
“Never thought I would say thank god for a dart,” he says in a low voice. “I love you.”
The music stops, and so does the dancing. Everyone around you claps as they start to play a faster song.
“Let’s get our picture in front of the river,” he suggests, motioning for you to give him your phone.
He flags a couple down, handing them your phone, taking a minute as it looks like he handed something else to them before coming back.
“Everything ok?” you ask.
“Couldn’t be better,” he says, beaming, putting his arm around you.
The two of you smile as they take your pictures on what you’re pretty sure is also Matthew’s phone. You start to head towards them to get your phones back when Matthew pulls you back.
“Wait, wait, not yet.”
“What’s up?”
Before you know it, he was getting down on one knee.
“No way,” you say has he takes your hand in his, a small box in the other.
“I had a plan to ask you this before you suggested the road trip, and honestly, it was me throwing the ring at you because that kind of fits our personalities. But this I think is much better. I want to be the beignet boy, I want to be your mom’s favorite child, I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. Y/N, will you marry me?”
You’re a mess, crying and thanking yourself for wearing waterproof makeup today. Even if he had proposed to you with his original idea, you would have said the same thing. “Yes. Yes of course!”
He slides the ring on your finger, everyone around you cheering and clapping, the musicians playing a new song. He kisses you, lifting you up at your waist, your leg popping like Mia in the Princess Diaries.
All of this because of a dart.
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