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sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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ben & cole plz for vday vignettes 💗

[AnythingForYouBeyoncé.gif]

ICYMI, I’m taking submissions to my ask box for Kiersey ships (either romance or friendships) to see in little Valentine’s Day snippets. Hit me up!

FYI: this isn’t really NSFW, but does feature Shirtless Ben Shaley trying to put the moves on, so read at your own risk.

february 14th | 5 years after (cole’s) graduation

When Cole wakes up on February 14th, the first problem is that Ben isn’t right next to him.

He rolls over, and grumbles a little, as his mostly-blind feeling around in the covers comes up short. He may have just woken up, but he knows a lack of Ben when he feels one. Pretty much the first thing he does every single morning is roll over and try to find Ben, and then complain when Ben has to get out of bed to go to work. Because Ben has, like, an actual adult job, and actual adult responsibilities. Cole guesses we can’t all be full-time musicians, but, like, still. A guy has needs. And his needs include at least a little bit of cuddle before the day starts.

So today, that’s an extra problem. Because Ben isn’t in bed at all. And it only takes him a minute or so after he wakes up to remember that it’s Valentine’s Day. So Ben should be here.

He sits up in bed. “B?” he calls— or at least tries to call, as he feels around on the nightstand for his glasses. His voice comes out kind of raspy, and when he finally gets his glasses, he clears his throat as he slides them on. Outside the bedroom’s window wall, it’s broad daylight in Providence. Shit. Cole may have slept in.

But that’s okay, right? Like, he has nothing to do today, and neither does Ben. It’s Saturday. They have today all to themselves.

Which is pretty cool. And would be even cooler if, like, Ben were actually in this room right now. “Ben?” he tries again, in a fuller voice this time, and smooths his hair out of his eyes. It’s getting long. Maybe too long. He’ll give it a good lopping off before tour, but that’s still three months away, so he might have to get a trim before then.

Still nothing, though, on the Ben front. He swings his legs off the side of their bed, which is a bad decision, because it’s kind of cold outside the comfort of the duvet. “Beeeen,” he tries, to no avail. He sighs, and gets up. He’s going to have to investigate.

He’s kind of sore from last night, and still cold, which is probably because he’s just wearing Ben’s boxers. He yanks a Kiersey Hockey sweatshirt out of the dresser, and puts on a pair of Nike socks before he braves the apartment beyond their bedroom. Pulling the drawstrings with the hood over his head, he’s a little more satisfied with the temperature, and he shuffles out into the kitchen— where he finds his answer.

Ben is awake, and out here, hard at work. Cole has to halt, as he takes in the sight of him. It’s not just that Ben is awake— he’s walking around the kitchen, putting stuff on a tray, like he’s getting breakfast ready. Cole’s box of Trix and a little carton of milk are sitting on it, plus a bowl, a glass of water, and a cloth napkin, for some reason. Then you add in Ben himself, who is currently dressed in only a pair of black joggers, with his hair down, and chest on full display, and, uh, well.

Cole might need a second to process.

“Oh, shit!” Ben cries, as he walks into the kitchen, and dashes in front of the breakfast tray like he wants to obstruct Cole’s view of it. “You’re up!”

Cole tucks his hands into the sleeves of the sweatshirt, and does his best not to let the fact that Ben looks very very very (very) hot right now distract him. “Well, yeah, I’m up,” he says, and folds his arms before he adds, “You weren’t in bed, so I had to look for you.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” Ben replies, with a laugh. He cards through his own hair, and shakes it out a little. “I was trying to get breakfast to you before you got out of bed.”

“Oh.” Cole pauses, a second, and leans to the side, to look past him to the tray again. Ben moves like he’s going to block it again, then gives up. “You— were gonna bring me breakfast?” he asks, taking a few steps toward him.

“Well, yeah,” Ben says, and then laughs again, as if at himself. They meet in the middle of the kitchen. “But if you’d rather eat out here, that’s okay.”

Cole waits, as Ben stops in front of him, for just a breath— and then he can’t resist. He steps forward, winds his arms around his neck, and pulls him into a kiss— long, tender, and a very good way to say good morning. Ben responds in kind, and Cole takes a gentle handful of his hair.

When they come up for air, Cole smiles thinly at him. “Hi,” he mumbles.

“Hey.” Ben’s smile is so much to handle. Then again, Ben is so much to handle. Cole still has trouble believing he’s his, sometimes. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“You, too,” Cole replies, and gives him another kiss for good measure. This time, Ben slides a careful hand up under the sweatshirt, and his touch sends sparks through Cole’s body. This time, when they pause, he keeps his arms hooked around his neck, and asks him, “How long have you been up?”

“Not that long,” Ben assures him, and then— in one quick, effortless motion, lifts him clean off the ground, and sets him on the edge of the marble counter. Cole laughs, and holds on tight, for the duration. When he’s steady on the surface, Ben stands between his legs, and remarks, “It’s a big day for us, baby. It’s basically our anniversary.”

“Wrong,” Cole remarks, swinging one leg off the counter. “That’s next week.”

“Pffff, I said basically,” Ben replies, and Cole laughs. He guesses it’s kind of true. Their first kiss was a year ago today. It was a long, long time coming.

“Sorry I wasn’t in bed,” Ben adds. The smile on his face is just a little sly. Cole has grown very used to that smile, and knows what it means. “I realize now that I probably should’ve been.”

“You could come back to bed,” Cole offers, with a shrug and a cheeky smile.

Ben nods, and hums, as both his hands find their way under the sweatshirt. Cole returns the favor, except he doesn’t have to go under clothes to find bare skin on him. He traces the shoulder part of the sleeve of tattoos on Ben’s left arm.

Hot damn.

“I could do that,” Ben mutters, and kisses his neck just once, before he lifts his head to meet his eyes. Cole thinks he could write an entire song just about Ben’s eyes— so green, so full of life, and so pretty. He hates love songs, but maybe he should. Right now, there’s a question in them, but Ben says nothing.

Cole can play this game. He tips back on the counter, and raises both eyebrows. “You’re missing your window of opportunity.”

“Babe,” Ben laughs, and he presses forward to kiss him, long and intentional. Cole will never, never take this for granted— the known, famed king of casual, Ben Shaley, has been tied down. He is his. Cole gets to have this boy— and all of him, not just the sexy parts. He gets his dorky, his domestic, his stressed, his messy, his imperfect. Cole wouldn’t trade a single piece of Ben for the world.

Today, one year since they kissed for the first time, Ben is Cole’s Valentine. And that is the best way Cole could possibly want to spend his Saturday.

He can even forgive him for waking up alone.

#ben/cole #my writing #mel writes #rhode island headass #actually he's cole #kiersey college #kiersey valentines

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sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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Sorry, another snippet. I couldn’t resist.

#damn bitch you draft like this?#yes yes i do #mel is writing #kiersey college #crickets #rat boy #rhode island headass #rhodey & touille #mini quinny

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sincerelyreidburke · 4 years

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15 for platonic nando and ben because its not gay to want to marry the homies

First of all, please forgive me. This is only the first sappy prompt, and while I will most definitely fill all of them, it will come as no surprise to anyone reading this that I’m being slow as I do that. Do not worry! I won’t let you down. I love every single one of these sappy-ass prompts.

Second: Percy, this one made me laugh. I hope you enjoy the bro time ficlet I created in response to your request. Featuring Chef Nando, the Beech Street kitchen, and Ben’s incessant chirping of Nando for being a huge simp. (Quinn is only an offscreen entity here, FWIW. It’s 100% Ben and Nando bro time.)

From this list of prompts!

15. “Please marry me.”

Nando is making a mess of the kitchen.

At least he knows it. And it’s definitely not the first time this has happened. He’s lived in his room at the house on Beech Street for almost an entire school year now, and he’s completely aware of his own tendency to turn cooking space into a war zone. He can’t help it! It’s the allure of a kitchen existing downstairs from him, and a kitchen he only has to share with five other people, no less. Yeah, the freshman boys’ dorm had a kitchen, but a gross communal kitchen in a dorm with 200 other guys is a lot different from a house kitchen he can utilize for hours at a time and not get any shit for it.

That’s why he makes a mess in here. And he knows it. Even if he weren’t aware of it, Quinn would have definitely brought it to his attention by this point, because Quinn will not hesitate to start a bickering argument about this exact type of thing as if they’ve been married for 40 years. (Which Nando loves.) He figures it’s better to know something like this about yourself than to live in total ignorance about it.

So, anyway: he’s making a mess of the kitchen. In his defense, he’s making a messy meal. It’s a Thursday afternoon, sunny and warm (or at least warm for March in New England), and the weather has spurred him into the exactly right mood to make a big dinner. There’s also maybe the added motivation of his one class tomorrow having been cancelled, so today is basically his Friday. And also, he was hungry.

Whatever. The point is, he’s making empanadas, and anybody who takes two steps through the front door of Beech right now would totally know it, because the evidence is everywhere.

There’s flour all over the counter from when he was making the dough. The three separate pans he used to make the filling are stacked up in the sink, yet to be washed. There’s a pan of oil getting ready to heat up on the stove, and just for good measure, as if this weren’t enough food, he’s even making beans and rice, which requires two more pots, both of which are in use right now on other stove burners.

The empanadas themselves, which have yet to be fried, are all on a cookie sheet, separated by wax paper. There are a lot of them, but Beech is home to six hungry athletes plus possibly one more if Remy comes over, which he almost definitely will. Nando wants to save at least a few of them for Quinn, too, even though he won’t be at dinner.

Who said you can’t have a big family dinner on a Thursday night? Nobody. Literally nobody. This is college, and he’s living his best life.

Beech is empty, at least for the moment, which is even more enabling. Nando has music on, as loud as he wants it to be. He thinks he knows where everybody is, too, which is helping him time dinner. Jordy has debate team on Thursdays, and Teegs said something about going to the gym. Remy’s in the library, and Ben and Sam both have classes that should be out soon. Marc is probably with that one girl he’s been trying to wheel lately.

So everybody is accounted for, and he has the house to himself, which is how he wound up cooking. Nando turns up the heat on the oil, and waits. His shuffle switches songs, and he bops around the disaster scene of a kitchen to the steady beat. The sun through the window, though it’s on its way to setting, still warms him up, brightens his mood.

It’s a good afternoon.

He’s not quite frying yet when the front door opens, but he is stirring the pot of beans, reaching over to the back burner on the stove to get to them. It’s starting to smell good— everything is. Beech Street smells like home right now.

Not that Beech isn’t home. It’s just not the same home where Mama and his sisters are. It’s a home away from home. And Nando really, really likes the way that feels.

The door is a distant sound, with his music playing. What actually gets his attention is the voice that comes from that direction; Ben, as usual, announces his own arrival before he actually comes into the kitchen. “Holy actual hell,” he calls, as his steps get closer. “You cooking, Nan?”

“You bet your ass I am,” Nando replies, with a laugh. He pauses his music, and then turns just in time to see Ben walk in. He has his backpack over one shoulder, and his jeans are cuffed, so you can see the rainbow socks that match his scrunchie. He puts a hand to his heart as he stops to survey the scene in the kitchen, and then drops his backpack.

“Duuuude,” he whispers, kind of reverently, and approaches the counter. He doesn’t actually comment on the mess in the kitchen, because Ben isn’t the tidiest person. He’s not the worst, but still. Rooming with him was an experience last year. “What’s this for? You got a hot date tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” Nando mumbles, turning the heat down on the beans. “He has rehearsal.”

“Then this is for us?” A gleeful grin crosses Ben’s face. “Like, this is dinner?”

“Uh, yeah?” Nando laughs. “I thought you guys might want a night off from, like, dining hall food.”

“Wow.” Ben puts his hand back on his heart, and sighs like a damsel in a sexist movie. “I feel so special.”

He grins at him. “I love that you assumed Quinn was coming over because I was cooking.”

“Well, yeah, because you’re a fucking simp,” Ben replies, and then walks over to his side of the counter and punches the side of his arm. “Everybody knows that.”

There’s no use defending himself in the face of Ben’s chirping, but he tries anyway. “I don’t cook every time Quinn comes over.”

“He’s gonna be jealous.” Ben pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’m gonna send him a pict— wait, dude, are those empanadas?”

“I still have to fry them.” Nando gestures to the pan of oil. “But yes.”

“Oh, my God.” Ben laughs and swoons. “Please marry me, dude. Like, what the fuck.”

Nando leans to the oven, to turn it on so it’ll keep the empanadas warm. “Well, now Quinn’s definitely gonna be jealous.”

“Seriously.” Ben arches an eyebrow, flashing his trademark smirk. “I’m sending him a picture. I’m gonna tell him I’m stealing his man and the food that comes with him.”

“I feel like you’re reducing me to my ability to cook.” Nando pauses, as he draws back from the buttons on the oven. He grabs a wooden spoon and turns it upside down, pressing it into the oil to test the temperature. It bubbles a little, but it’s definitely not hot enough yet. “Like a housewife?”

“You are a housewife.” Ben is typing on his phone— Snapchatting Quinn, by the looks of what Nando can see on the screen. There’s a black caption bar over a photo of the tray of empanadas. “You’re the Beech Street personal chef. And I love you for it.”

Nando grins. “I love you, too.”

Ben finishes his Snapchat, then puts his phone back into his pocket and declares, “C’mere, big man.” He hugs him from the side, and Nando pats him on the back with his free hand. “You’re a legend,” Ben announces. “Thanks for feeding our sorry asses.”

“Wow,” Nando chirps, raising an eyebrow at his best friend. “Is this you being actually sentimental? What’s your deal?”

“Fuck off.” Ben immediately punches his arm again, but stays in the hug for a second more before he lets him go. “Who says I can’t appreciate the homies?”

Nando snorts. “I know you’re just trying to get extra empanadas.”

“Not true,” Ben retorts, even though it totally is true. He tucks one of his stray hairs behind his ear, and then folds his arms, surveying the kitchen scene again. “Also, where is everybody?”

Nando rattles off the list of people’s locations he came up with in his own head a little while ago. Ben nods as he does it, then shrugs, walking over to a barstool and hopping up into it. “Looks like it’s just me and you, simp boy.”

“Looks like it is.” Nando knows Ben can’t see his face anymore, as he tests the oil again. He’s grinning anyway. “Do you care if I put my music back on?”

“Yes,” Ben replies. “Your music is trash.”

“Hey!” The oil is hot. Nando straightens and looks over his shoulder. “What’s wrong with my music?”

“I told you,” Ben says, simply. He’s scrolling through his phone at the counter. “It’s trash.” There’s a brief pause, and then Nando’s bluetooth speaker makes a little ping.

Connected to: Ben’s iPhone, says the robot voice, and Nando rolls his eyes. “Come into my kitchen,” he mumbles. “Chirp my ass. Disrespect my music.”

“Oh!” Ben completely ignores this, and grins at his phone. “Q Snapped me back.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for something to load, and then announces, “He says he’s jealous and to save him some.”

Nando turns back to his empanadas, so Ben won’t see the smile on his face as he remarks, “Tell him I was already going to.”

“Of course you were,” Ben mumbles. “You fucking simp ass.”

The oven beeps— it’s finished heating. Nando thinks it’s easier to just fry everything at once and leave it warm in the oven, rather than wait for people to be ready to eat and try to time it. He takes a second cookie sheet out, for as he finishes frying. The apron Quinn made him, tied tight around his waist right now, is about to get kind of greasy. Not that it hasn’t already been through hell and back. He’s had it for over a year.

Behind him, Ben is quiet for a second, and then he starts playing Bruno Mars at a respectable volume through the Bluetooth speaker. Nando grins, and sways his shoulders to the opening couple of beats of 24K Magic. “See,” Ben says, with a grin in his voice. “Don’t say I never did anything for you, Nanny. I know what you like.”

“This is a good song,” he replies, and then Ben immediately starts singing. Nando laughs, loud and long, with the sun warm on his face and a good feeling in his chest.

He drops the first empanada into the oil and sings along with his best friend. Together, they make the kitchen into their own little party. Ben is a bad dancer and Nando is a worse singer, but they vibe together in the kitchen anyway, between batches of frying and various chirps. Nando thinks, as he cooks, that he honestly couldn’t be having more fun.

So, yeah. It’s a really great afternoon.

#crickets #kiersey college #ficlet #nandoooooooo #rhode island headass #sappy prompts #mel writes

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sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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study break

“Take a break, baby.”

Quinn isn’t sure he’s ever been more grateful for a voice of reason. He looks up from his chemistry textbook for the first time in what has to be at least thirty minutes, and Sebastián, just back from his run across campus to the café, is a welcome sight to behold as he approaches. He holds a bag in one hand, and some kind of warm drink in the other. His cheeks are a little flushed, and there are snowflakes in his curls, where they stick out from under his stocking cap.

“I got you a tea,” he adds, with a gentle, handsome smile, and places the cup down like a peace offering onto Quinn’s disaster table. When he sits in the empty spot beside him on the couch, it sinks with his weight, and Quinn tips toward him naturally.

“Thank you,” he manages to get out, and then, as Sebastián wraps his arm around him, he presses into his shoulder to yawn. “What time is it?”

“Four-thirty,” Sebastián replies, which is an atrocity, because it’s entirely dark outside the windows. Quinn has occupied this same spot in the basement of the dorm for nearly the entire afternoon, trying to prepare as much as possible for his Chem 100 exam tomorrow. Exam season is in full swing, as the last days of the semester approach, and Quinn can almost feel the academic stress like a physical weight on his shoulders.

It’s been a busy weekend.

He grumbles, and rests his face against Sebastián’s sweatshirt. “I think I was just reading the same page for ten minutes straight.”

“You should take a break,” Sebastián repeats, rubbing his back. “I got you a grilled cheese.”

“Oh my goodness,” Quinn mumbles, eyeing the bag from the café. This boy is too good to him. “Tea and you bought me dinner?”

“I mean.” Sebastián pauses. “This should count as lunch. Since you forgot about that in your study coma.”

“I’m just— agh.” He squeezes his eyes shut and swats lightly at his chest. This sweatshirt is a nice one, bright Kiersey blue with gold lettering, not something from the hockey team but just from the bookstore. Quinn might want to take it home for winter break, but even that absentminded thought is something he wants to push aside.

Five days from now, he’ll be on a plane bound for six weeks in Michigan, where it’s back to the gray, isolated, artificial life he was living before this lovely first semester of college. Sebastián will be very far away, and they’re fully aware of that fact, ready to face it together, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be any easier to suddenly not have him around when he’s gotten so used to him. And though it’s a big part, it’s not only the distance from his boyfriend he isn’t looking forward to. He’ll be far from his drama friends, from doing the things he enjoys, from any semblance of having a life at all. Winter break comes with a regularly scheduled dose of his grandparents, a basement bedroom, and repression of self to the highest degree.

For now, it’s easier to focus on exams. And the large, lovely boy hugging him close to his chest. “Are you nervous?” Sebastián is asking, somewhere above him.

“Not so much nervous.” Quinn releases him to look out over his schoolwork again. He really should tidy up this table. The poor custodian would have his head on a spit if he could see how many class notes, books, and pens Quinn has scattered over it this afternoon. “More... anticipatory.”

“I know what you mean.” Sebastián is quiet for a second as he leans forward to gather all his chemistry notes into a semi-neat stack. He places them on top of his current page in the textbook, then closes it on them, to save his spot. When he leans back on the couch again, he takes the tea with him, and sniffs before taking a sip. It’s peppermint. Because this boy knows the way to his heart.

“You should eat, though,” Sebastián insists, while he drinks. “I called Remy and Rho to come down here. We can hang out. You can have a little study break.”

Quinn nods. He thinks the version of himself who set out on this chemistry mission a few hours ago would sooner fight Sebastián tooth and nail than take a break, but now, in the dark, snowy quiet of the early afternoon, he’s ready for a break. His head hurts a little from all the reading, and he’s put in a good effort. The exam is at ten tomorrow, and the night is young.

He pulls his grilled cheese from the bag; there’s an order of fries inside, too, and a cookie for good measure. “My dear,” he says, as he’s examining the food. “I’ll owe you a meal.”

“Ehh.” Sebastián shrugs; his curls bounce a little. His smile is self-satisfied and charming. “You can buy me lunch tomorrow after your test.”

Quinn smiles back, and tips up to kiss his cheek. “Deal.”

He sets the takeout container with sandwich and fries in his lap, and leans back into Sebastián’s shoulder, tucking his feet up onto the couch. Sebastián is looking at his phone, and laughs a moment before he announces, “Ben’s on his way. He kidnapped Remy from the library.”

“Oh, goodness,” Quinn mumbles. “Remy may kill him for that.”

“Yeah, I think that’s possible.” Sebastián tucks his phone away. Quinn offers him up a fry, but he pushes it away. “No— you eat first, baby.”

Quinn can do that. He knows that whatever he doesn’t finish, Sebastián will take care of for him, so he enters into grilled cheese euphoria without another thought on the matter. Nobody does a grilled cheese like the grill cook at the Bluegrass Café. Yet another thing about college he’ll miss over break. Oma’s cooking isn’t exactly anything to write home about.

“How’s your studying going?” he asks, as he eats. Sebastián already had one exam, yesterday, but he has three more to go, one of which is for his intro to sociology class, tomorrow afternoon.

“I feel good,” Sebastián says. “I’ll study more in the morning, though. I was doing study prayers earlier. I said one for you.”

“You—” Quinn pauses, with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “You did?”

“Yeah!” The way he says it is so carefree, like he hasn’t just made Quinn’s heart flutter. “I’ve said a couple,” he adds. “I said one before you had that big lab practical last week.”

Quinn wonders if he’s red in the face, as he looks up at him. Logically, of course he knows— has known— that Sebastián is very religious. He wears it on his person, quite literally, with the cross around his neck, and figuratively, too, as he’s spoken openly about faith since Quinn first met and got to know him. But this— this in particular is new information. And it puts something warm and fuzzy in Quinn’s heart.

“What?” Sebastián has noticed now that Quinn is staring at him. He smiles just a little, as he asks, “You okay, cariño?”

He doesn’t exactly mean to blurt it out, but his head is so in the clouds that he doesn’t get the chance to stop himself. “You pray for me?”

Sebastián looks— well, maybe not surprised, exactly, by this question, but at least a little confused. “Of course I do,” he says, without a second’s hesitation. “I pray for you all the time.”

Quinn is most definitely red in the face now. He takes too long to respond, though, because Sebastián speaks again, with a tinge of insecurity in his voice. “Is that— weird?” he asks, then starts to scramble. “If it makes you uncomf—”

“No— no, Sebastián, no. It isn’t weird. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” He hurries to shut down any doubt, and, to his relief, the worry fades from Sebastián’s face as quickly as it showed up. He presses his palm flat to his chest, and looks right into his eyes as he adds, “I just think it’s incredibly sweet.”

“Oh.” Sebastián pauses a second, then smiles, that big, goofy grin that Quinn fell head over heels for barely a month ago. He somehow feels like it’s been a lot longer than that. “Well, yeah, I— I do it. It’s just— like, natural. I couldn’t imagine not doing it. I mean, you’re my—” He shakes his head, pausing again, and then remarks, “I pray for everyone I care about.”

Goodness, Quinn is in so deep with this boy. His cheeks burn as he smiles up at him, and then presses forward to kiss him, a gentle little peck but a sweet thing all the same. “I think that’s so lovely,” he says. “And thank you. For doing that for me.”

“I always will,” Sebastián says, like there’s never been another way.

Quinn is getting used to the idea of always.

He gives him another kiss, to make up for his loss for words, and Sebastián is making like he’s going to pull him into his lap when the rude interruption comes.

“Okay, simp city! Break it up!”

Quinn jolts, and doesn’t even need to look to know who the voice belongs to. At the foot of the basement stairs, and, by the looks of it, fresh from the outdoors, Ben is classically boisterous and disruptive, and has a less-than-impressed Remy in tow. Like Sebastián was when he returned from the café, they’re a little snowy and windblown.

“There’s no PDA in the basement,” Ben adds, tutting at the both of them, as he strolls over to the table. “I’ll snitch you to the RA.”

"That isn’t a real rule, Benjamin,” Quinn mutters, in lieu of a greeting.

“Snitches get stitches,” Sebastián adds, and mimes shooting Ben with a finger-pistol.

“You’re right, but for you two schmoopy fucks? I’d risk it all.” Ben tosses himself onto the couch on the other side of Quinn’s disaster table, and Remy, who still does not look impressed, takes the armchair next to it, since Ben has occupied the couch’s entire real estate via sprawling.

Quinn looks to him, as he digs into his backpack. “How are you, Remy?”

“I have so much vocabulary to memorize,” Remy mumbles, and presses his forehead into his hand before he adds, “Life is bleak.”

“Aw, you can do it, Rem.” Sebastián leans forward to drum on the table, like he’s trying to lift his spirits. “We believe in you!”

“I’m going to need all the belief I can get,” Remy replies, and then pulls a notebook out of his backpack.

“Q, is this your mess?” Ben puts his Vans up on the disaster table. “I expected more organization from Mr. ‘I Can’t Leave The Dorm; These Are My Inside Shoes’.”

“Oh, hush,” Quinn replies. “It’s not my fault I have rules about what constitutes sensible footwear for the snow.”

Ben folds his arms and arches an eyebrow. “And yet you don’t have rules about sensible study strategies?”

Quinn throws a fry across the table at him. Remy snorts, but does not look up from his notebook. “Ooh, delicious,” Ben remarks, even though the fry lands on the ground. “Where’d you get the food?”

He picks up the unfinished half of his grilled cheese, and waves it at Ben. “Sebastián graciously did a Bluegrass run for me.”

“You fucking traitor,” Ben whispers, eyes on Sebastián. “You got food for him and not for me?”

“He’s nice to me,” Sebastián replies.

“Ouch.” Ben puts a hand on his heart, bows his head, and remarks, “Message received. We’ll see who lets you in next time you’re locked out of the room at two AM.”

Sebastián sticks his tongue out at Ben, and Quinn laughs. Tucked under Sebastián’s arm on this couch, with snow falling outside, he has a lot to attend to— and cleaning up his disaster table is just the start of it. It’s going to be a busy week, between exams, packing, and saying goodbyes, but right now, he won’t think that far ahead.

Right now, he’ll give himself permission. Right now, he’ll take a break.

#quindo #kiersey college #mini quinny #nandoooooooo #rhode island headass #rat boy #crickets #ficlet #my writing #wtf is this anyway #just sheer fluff???#who knows #mel writes

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sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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New Kiersey fic not written by me!!!!

Friends!!! Gather around!! My dear friend @ifimabitch has made an official non-Mel contribution to the Kiersey AO3 category thing, which I created recently in order to keep all these shenanigans in one place.

The fic is here! It’s based on this post, and if you like Cole & Ben, the Dear Evan Hansen era of the Kiersey Drama Club, and Reid being Reid, you’ll get just as much joy out of it as I did. I smiled at my phone very much while reading it!! Via is the best, and this fic is a blessing upon us all.

Have fun, my friends!!!!!!

#fic rec #ao3 link #kiersey college #ben/cole #rhode island headass #the insanely cool reid burke #mini quinny #actually he's cole #kiersey fic

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sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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The first Halloween party of college goes extremely successfully for Ben.

So successfully, in fact, that he doesn’t even get back to his room until approximately four in the morning. Unfortunately, his roommate is asleep, so he has nobody to rave to about the very very sexy girl from the basketball team he spent the wee hours of the morning with, but then again, Nando is a responsible citizen, and Ben doesn’t want to wake him so he can dish about a hookup. Instead, he sheds his costume, crawls into bed in his boxers, and waits until morning.

When morning comes, Nando wakes up first. Ben knows this because when he comes to, sometime around ten in the morning, with autumn light beaming into his eyes like a hangover laser through the window, Nando is not only already up, but already showered and dressed. He’s chilling on his bed typing on his phone, and smiling at his screen while he does it.

When Ben sits up in bed, blinking the light out of his eyes, Nando gives him a wave. “Hey, man.” He’s chipper, still grinning, and definitely not feeling the effect of last night the way Ben is.

Ben yawns, and stretches both arms to the ceiling. “‘Sup,” he gets out, after what feels like a prolonged, yawn-caused delay. He rubs out a crick in his neck, then, to Nando, says, “How long have you been up?”

Nando is typing on his phone again. “Like an hour?” he says, then shrugs. He sleeps his display, then puts the phone down on his chest. He’s still smiling. “What, uh… what time did you get in?”

Ben pretends like he has to think about it for a second. “Around four,” he remarks, after the consideration.

Nando lets off a vaguely impressed chuckle. “You don’t fuck around.”

“Actually,” Ben corrects, finger-gunning him, “that’s exactly what I was doing.”

Nando laughs. “I hate you so much.”

Ben winks at him. “Most people do.” He grabs his most recent half-finished water bottle from his bedside table, and downs the rest in one gulp— which definitely clears his head a little. From next to the bottle, he takes a blue scrunchie, and starts to tie up his hair while he looks again to Nando. He’s texting again, so Ben gives him a minute before he begins his dishing about Jess.

And he intends to tell him about Jess. Or at least to make an offhand comment about how he’s lost his basketball team virginity, to be funny. Nando may not be able to relate to his sentiments about girls, but when Ben comes back from a hookup, Nando usually asks where he was.

So he’s about to tell him. He waits for him to be off his phone before he does. But when Nando puts his phone down again, he folds his hands on his stomach, and he talks first.

“So, like,” he says, smiling at the ceiling, “not to jinx it?” It’s only right then that Ben realizes something might be up for him , and his next sentence confirms it. “But I’m pretty sure I met the cutest guy on this campus last night.”

Ben’s internal simp sensor rings off the hook. “Oh, did you?” he chirps. “Did you really? The cutest guy on this campus?” The doofy smile on Nando’s face is a fucking delight to behold, and so is the way it keeps widening as Ben makes fun of him. He can’t believe he didn’t notice this right off the bat. “You better start talking right fucking now, Seb,” he declares, and lowers his voice in his unparalleled glee to whisper, “Did you get lucky?”

“What? No!” Nando laughs, and shakes his head. He twists his hands where they’re resting on his stomach, and shrugs, with the simp smile lingering. “We just talked.”

“ We just talked ,” Ben mocks, and cackles, as he drums on his own pillow. “ Dude !” He wants to jump on his bed. Nando meeting a guy is good on its own, and even better when you consider the sheer amount of chirping this gives Ben ammunition for. “Who? When? At the party?”

“Yeah, at the party.” Nando ruffles a hand through his curls, then his smile widens. “He agreed to go on a date with me.”

“ What ?!” Ben very well may be waking up all their dorm neighbors, and he gives a literal negative amount of fucks about that. He slaps his pillow again. “You fucking casanova!”

Nando says nothing, but peeks at his phone, and keeps smiling when he goes to type again. “Jesus Christ,” Ben whispers, in his awe. “Are you texting him right now?”

Nando nods, and Ben yells into his pillow. His best friend, who got cheated on and dumped the third week of school, is a complete ball of mush over some guy right now. Ben could not be more fucking amped. And also he’s going to get details. ASAP.

“Who, who, who?” he says, as soon as Nando’s attention is away from his phone again. “Who is it? Do I know him? Do you have a picture?”

“I don’t think you know him,” Nando replies, “but, uh, yeah, I think I have a picture. Hold on.” He picks up his phone again, and Ben does his best not to vibrate out of his skin. While Nando surfs through his phone— not texting, this time— he announces, through his smile, “His name is Quinn.”

Nando looks about to melt, and Ben is going to combust over it. Wait until Remy gets a load of this. “Nanny’s fucking wheeling,” he shouts, for nobody to hear, and claps a couple times. “ Dude . You’re a fucking legend!”

Nando laughs. He taps something on his screen, then says, like it’s no big deal, “All I did was get his number.”

“And get him to agree to a date with you!” Ben cries. “All in the same night? That takes skill!”

Nando rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop smiling. “Look who’s talking,” he says, and then announces, “I sent you his Instagram.”

“Oh, say less .” Ben leans to grab his phone from the nightstand, and grins a little when he opens Instagram to find a follow request from Jess. He accepts it, then clicks on the profile Nando sent him. It brings him to a quinn cooper🌈🌷🧏‍♂️ , whose bio informs Ben that he’s kiersey college ‘22 and GRTA , whatever that second part means. A few taps through an aesthetically coordinated profile in muted, warm colors land him on a post from September 24th, in which a ginger twink with a white scarf is smiling in the apple orchard next to a very pretty blonde girl dressed all in pink. “Ginger boy?” he asks Nando, who’s texting yet again.

“Yeah,” Nando says, and then smiles up from his phone. “He’s cute, right?”

Ben cackles again, and nearly falls off his mattress. “Dude, you’re fucking simping right now.”

“Stop!” Nando’s smile hasn’t faded. Ben takes a minute to look through other pictures on Quinn’s Instagram. His most recent post is from October 6th, and it’s a shot of a tree Ben recognizes as one outside the performing arts center, in peak foliage. it’s a lovely time of year🍂 , reads his caption. Other, older posts include a big cast photo from some kind of play, a bunch of tulips in a huge garden, and three cats on a sofa. “Wow,” Ben remarks, once he’s done stalking (for now). When he looks up at Nando, he has to shake himself out to keep from yelling again. “ Dude ,” he says, instead. “You’re in deep. I can see it on your face.”

Nando presses his cheek into his fist, like he’s trying to rub the blush out. “I had a good night,” he murmurs, smiling down at his downturned phone in his lap.

A ‘good night’ seems like an understatement.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Ben announces, and jumps out of bed. “I’m gonna get dressed,” he starts, sauntering to his closet to prove it. “And then,” he adds, looking over his shoulder once he yanks his KMH sweatshirt off a hanger, “you’re gonna buy me brunch.”

Nando laughs. “Whaaat? No fair,” he says, but he doesn’t seem too pressed about it.

“And then ,” Ben continues, while he pulls out a pair of jeans, “you’re gonna tell me all about your new ginger friend.”

He waits for Nando to protest, but he doesn’t. Instead, when Ben turns again, Nando is smiling all the same, with his arms folded all smugly.

“Okay,” he says. “I can do that.”

Ben is going to lose his mind. For the first time, things seem to be looking up for Nando in the love department. He’s still smiling at his phone, like a fucking simp ass.

Ben laughs as he gets dressed. Good for him .

Ben doesn’t know it, but years down the road, he’ll tell this story— among many others— at Nando’s wedding to this new ginger friend. For now, though, he’s getting brunch and a dishing session out of this. It’s going to be even better than the dishing session he expected.

That’s another win for the fucking boys .

#mel writes #ficlet #my writing #kiersey college #rhode island headass #nandoooooooo #quindo #sort of #idk this came to me out of nowhere #i am a huge sucker for the nando&ben friendship dynamic #and for Soft Nando #in general

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sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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Day 7: the tried and true old debate.......

This fic is told entirely by group chat. In which the Kiersey Men’s Hockey team (including some fun, less known members!) gets into an extremely spirited debate about whether Die Hard counts as a Christmas movie. Lines are drawn in the sand. Captaincies are threatened. The Geneva Convention does not apply........

Ask for anything you’d like to see during my 25 Days of Kiersey!

Group: KMH Captains 2019-20

Monday, December 2nd, 2019

9:31 AM

Sebastián Hernandez: hey guys before i forget

Sebastián Hernandez: i was thinking

Alex Santiago: loooool

Alex Santiago: YOU were thinking?

Sebastián Hernandez: i know, alert the press

Jordan Jefferson: ouch teegs, brutal

Sebastián Hernandez: but anyway

Sebastián Hernandez: campus feels so weirdly depressing right now

Sebastián Hernandez: like i feel totally fine, but i feel like so many people around me are stressed out??? because of exams?? and you can tell when you walk around campus

Sebastián Hernandez: i also think the weather doesn’t help

Alex Santiago: ya thats so true

Alex Santiago: i havent seen the sun in like 4 days

Jordan Jefferson: i completely know what you mean, nando

Jordan Jefferson: i think everyone is suffering from end of semester fatigue

Sebastián Hernandez: totally!!

Sebastián Hernandez: so that’s why i was thinking

Sebastián Hernandez: we should have a team gathering on one of the reading days

Sebastián Hernandez: optional obviously, so if anyone really needs to study they don’t have to come

Sebastián Hernandez: but like an opportunity for a fun study break

Jordan Jefferson: i think that’s a great idea!

Alex Santiago: same here

Alex Santiago: did you have any ideas for what it should be like?

Sebastián Hernandez: idk maybe a movie night?

Head to ao3 for the rest!

#25 days of kiersey #mel writes #kiersey college #kiersey men's hockey #nandoooooooo #dj tampa #rhode island headass #rat boy #ao3 link #my writing #text fic #is that a thing?

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sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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Quick ficlet— some senior year content of the boys. Also on AO3.

senior year | october

It’s a Thursday night at Beech Street, and Quinn has fallen asleep on the couch.

Nando doesn’t realize, right away, that he’s sleeping. Snuggly Quinn is a quiet creature by nature, because the second his hearing aids are off or out, he’s dead to the world whether waking or sleeping. Quinn has disappeared, after cleaning up the last of the stuff from a big team dinner— Nando’s homemade empanadas, for a little midterms pick-me-up, enough of them to feed a small village or just a D1 hockey team and their two managers. Nando has been cooking and frying since his last class let out much earlier this afternoon, so when he finally gets the last two dwindling freshmen out the door, he’s ready to go find his boyfriend and relax.

“Thanks for dinner, Nando!” Carlos says, once Nando has somehow managed to usher him and Levi out onto the porch. “I gotta tell my mom about your empanada recipe. It’s elite .”

Nando chuckles. It’s not that he’s trying to kick them out— team members are always welcome at Beech Street, no matter if they’re freshmen or not— it’s just that it’s approaching eight o’clock, and there’s morning practice tomorrow, and there’s a cute boy on the couch who needs to be snuggled.

“You’re welcome,” he says, to Carlos, who has now thanked him at least four separate times for the food. Nando feels like it’s his responsibility as captain not to have a favorite freshman, but he’d be lying if he said Carlos wasn’t his. Nando hangs in the front door frame, and grins to him and then to Levi, Carlos’ more quiet, introspective fellow freshman. “Have a good night, you guys,” he tells them. “And good luck with that paper, Levi.”

Levi grins now, a small smile. “Thanks,” he says. An English major, Levi has been lamenting about his midterm paper all through team dinner, but keeping good spirits.

“Byeeeee, Nando!” Carlos calls, waving his arm over his head as he and Levi descend the front steps.

Nando waves back. “Night, guys,” he says, again, and waits to close the door until he’s sure Carlos isn’t going to turn around and say something else or ask another question. When they’re well on their way, walking side-by-side down the sidewalk, Nando closes the door, and laughs to himself. Yeah… it’s hard to get rid of the freshmen. Nando doesn’t mind, though. They’re great— both of these guys, plus their two classmates, who left a couple minutes ago. He’s so happy with the team this year.

He locks the front door up for the night, then walks back into the kitchen, where, thanks to his housemates’ and Quinn’s help, you would barely even know there were a bunch of athletes dining not twenty minutes ago. The place is pretty much spotless, and Remy is putting the lid on a tupperware container, securing the five lonely leftover empanadas inside. “Thanks for the help, man,” Nando says, and Remy nods.

“No problem,” he replies, and slides the container into the fridge. With a half-grin, he says, “Those won’t last long in there,” as he closes the fridge door.

Nando shrugs. “That’s what they’re for.”

Remy’s smile widens, and he nods. “Thanks for cooking.”

“I had fun,” he tells him, which is definitely true. He scans the kitchen, then pauses before he asks Remy, “Where did—?”

“He’s on the couch,” Remy replies, tipping his head gently in the living room’s direction.

“Thanks, Rem,” Nando says, only half laughing at the fact that Remy knew what he was going to ask before he even got the chance to ask it. He walks across the hall to the living room area, and that’s how he finds Quinn asleep against the couch’s arm.

He has one of Nando’s sweatshirts on— a bright blue crewneck, with KIERSEY in gold lettering across the front; it’s big on him, and he looks adorable in it, always has. His head is resting in the crook of his elbow, and he has his legs tucked up under himself, and he’s out cold. His hearing aids are out. The TV isn’t even on. By the looks of it, Quinn came in here and immediately slumped into food coma mode.

Here’s the rest!

#mel writes #ao3 link #kiersey college #kiersey men's hockey #nandoooooooo #mini quinny #quindo #rhodey & touille #rhode island headass #rat boy #xyz gang #one lonely mention of my hawaiian husband mk #my writing #ficlet

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