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ladylooch · 7 months

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Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 34

A/N: Another time jump! Also, I still love the smut in this chapter. Also, the moment in their bedroom together before the game. That's the good stuff 🤌🏻

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, dreaming big dreams as a wild fan ☠️

Minnesota Wild head to their first ever Stanley Cup Final Berth. Fiala scores twice in Game 3 win over Bruins. See You In St. Paul: Wild force Game 7 against Boston.

The kids and I are playing in the back yard while Kevin takes his pre-game nap. This will be the last one of the season. Tonight, is game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final at the Xcel Energy Center. I watch as Luca rushes next to Lacey at the portable water table. He sweetly shows his little sister how to scoop the water with the buckets. Lacey giggles excitedly as Luca dumps the water back into the table, making the water splash onto her face.

“Is that fun, baby?” I ask her, smiling at her big grin.

To anyone looking into our backyard, we look like a normal family enjoying a warm summer day. However, we are anything but that. Tonight is the biggest game of our family’s hockey life. The series against the Boston Bruins has been a battle from the first puck drop. Both teams are evenly matched across the board and every mistake must be capitalized on. The Wild have switched off wins each game so far this series. To say it has been stressful to watch would be an understatement. Kevin has handled the series well. He’s playing some of his best hockey and he has certainly been the most electric I’ve ever seen him in his career. Truthfully, I think it helps to have the kids around for a distraction from the seriousness of it all.

My phone begins to buzz in my hand and I look down, seeing Lauren Hartman’s name flash on my screen.

“Hi!” I answer.

“Oh my god. Tell me you’re as antsy as me about this game.” She groans.

“Definitely.” I confirm with her. “Kevin is taking his nap right now and I have no idea how he is able to sleep. I don’t think I’ve slept well since the series has started.”

“Ryan is too! Meanwhile, I’m resisting the urge to do tequila shots in the middle of the day.”

“Hey, it might help.”

“Probably except with my luck I’d end up passing out through the game. What are you wearing tonight? I’m struggling with what will bring the most luck.”

“Not sure yet, but probably something that goes with our jackets for the playoffs.” Each playoff season, the WAGS order a few articles of new swag to wear to support the team. This year, we picked a black leather jacket with the last name and number stitched on the back in forest green. Sparkly jewels line the outline of the stitching to make the lettering pop.

“Oh! Good call… Now I just have to figure out jeans and shoes….”

I look over at Luca and Lacey, noticing immediately at how tired they both are. Lacey is getting whiney and Luca is rubbing at his eyes more and more with each passing minute. I know if I don’t get them out of their suits and into bed soon, a meltdown will be imminent.

“Laur, I gotta go. Kids are hitting their limits. I’ll see you tonight though!” I click the end button and stand, walking towards the kids. “I see some tired babies.” I murmur, kneeling between them.

“I want to nap with daddy.” Luca tells me with a pout. He’s a little old to be napping, but with the late night we have, it’s necessary for him to at least rest.

“Not today, baby.” I smooth his dark locks from his forehead and give him a soft smooch. “Daddy needs to sleep well for the game tonight. I bet he will snuggle with you tomorrow to make up for it.” I nuzzle my nose into his neck before swinging Lacey up into my arms. She settles into me immediately. Her wet hair tickles my face as I reach for Luca’s hand, leading both of them into the kitchen to dry off.

When I enter our bedroom after putting both Luca and Lacey in their rooms, Kevin is up. He is moving quietly around our bedroom, putting on his tie, then his suit pants. He seems lost in thought, so I’m not sure if he even notices that I’m here with him.

“You look great.” I tell him. His head snaps to me quickly, confirming he had no idea I was with him. He tilts one side of his mouth into a quick smile.

“Thanks,” He says simply, moving around me to the bathroom. He grabs his hair gel and rubs it between his hands before he rushes his fingers through his hair. My lips tilt into a smile at how damn good he looks. How lucky am I?

“How are you doing?” I ask. Normally, I wouldn’t press much but the butterflies are dive bombing the walls of my stomach right now and it feels harder to avoid it than face it head on.

“Fine.” He responds, grabbing his cologne and spraying a few spritzes onto his body. He washes his hands quickly, then fixes a stray tendril of his hair that keeps trying to dip back to his forehead.

“At least you can shave your face tomorrow.” I say, trying to break the tension I see in his body. As is customary in the playoffs, the Wild players have all been growing facial hair since the beginning of the post-season. Whether it really brings them luck is up for debate. But hockey players are knowingly superstitious, so it’s best not to bring up the validity of the tradition.

“Yeah, that will be nice.” He murmurs as our eyes meet in the mirror.

Silence consumes our room as he adjusts his tie and tugs the ends of his dress shirt down towards his wrists. All of his shirts and suits are custom made to fit him perfectly. There is something about watching him get ready for games that always makes my heart flutter in response. I step towards him and wrap my arms around him, resting my head against his back. He places his hands on the bathroom counter and we stay like that for several moments. I struggle with coming up with words to say to him. I’m so nervous I could puke. I can’t imagine how he feels right now.

“Luca said to tell you good luck.” I finally say, breaking the silence and glancing at him in the mirror. Kevin smiles in response.

“I love that kid.” Kevin tells me, turning so he is holding me to his chest. “My favorite son, for sure.” He jokes with me, kissing my lips softly before stepping out of the bathroom.

I watch as he puts his shoes on and his cuff links before he pulls his suit jacket over his broad shoulders. I walk over to him as he buttons the jacket. He turns to me and I reach for him, smoothing his jacket down anxiously. He hands me his tie clip and I secure it to his dress shirt perfectly in the center.

“I think you’re ready now.” I whisper. I bite my lip as I feel the tears pinching at my eyes. This moment. Everything he has worked for. I’m overcome with the emotions of it all coming to a crescendo tonight. What if they win? What if they don’t? I gulp back the lump in my throat and push a happy grin onto my face.

“I have to go.” Kevin advises me. His eyes search my face but I’m not sure what he is looking for.

“Yeah, okay.” I step to the side so he can walk around me to grab his watch. He comes back to me and gives me a soft, sweet kiss. He rests his forehead against mine as our eyes stay closed. “Good luck.” There are so many more words I want to say, but I know now isn’t the time.

“I’ll see you after.” He tells me, giving my hand a squeeze before he begins to leave. The reality settles between us that the next time we see each other, the game will be over. He may or may not be a Stanley Cup Champion.

“Kev.” I call to him just as he steps into the door frame of our bedroom.

“Yeah babe?”

“No matter what happens tonight… we love you.” Kevin, who is still working on strapping his watch to his wrist, stills. His brown eyes melt and he sighs, walking back over to where I’m standing. He gathers me into his arms and breathes in deeply while we hug. I squeeze him one last time before we part.

“I love you.” He says simply before he walks out of the bedroom and into the greatest moment of his career. _ _ _

Overtime in Game 7 with the Stanley Cup in the building has got to be the most intense anxiety I’ve ever experienced. Yet, here we are. After 60 minutes of battle, the score couldn’t be decided and the game needs extra minutes to determine this years’ champion.

I watch intently as the Bruins cycle the puck in the Wild zone. I feel antsy watching, knowing that if the puck doesn’t get out soon, this likely won’t end well for our tired defensemen. Kevin is on the ice; his positioning is perfect defending at the point. I watch as the Bruins defenseman winds up for a slap shot and it hits Kevin’s shin pads, bounding back into the neutral zone. The biggest mistake- one that defensemen will see when he closes his eyes for the remainder of his career.

“Kev!” I gasp, watching as Kevin flies forward towards the puck. The Bruins defenseman has reacted, but too slow. Soon, it’s just Kevin and the goalie as he darts down the ice on an obvious break away. “Kev.” I say again quietly, almost begging.

Everything seems to slow. I put my hand to my chest and hold my breath watching as he locks eyes on the net. The arena is buzzing with excitement as he moves the puck off the boards and heads closer to the center. He stick handles once more to change the angle at the last minute. He flicks his wrists and snipes the puck into the top, left hand corner of the net. My heart lurches into my throat as I watch the white twine snap in response to the puck.

“Yes!” I scream as the horn blares and the fans roar. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” I jump up and down, reaching for Laura as we both celebrate. The noise in the arena is deafening as everyone yells in disbelief and celebration. I pull away from her and turn, watching as the Wild bench clears rushing to Kevin. Helmets, gloves, and sticks litter the entire ice as they pile together in the corner. Kevin disappears from view while sobs clutch my chest in suffocating heaves. He did it.

“Mama!” Luca yells from behind me, his eyes wide and his face scrunched up in response to the noise.

“It’s okay baby!” I say to him. “I know it’s loud. Daddy won!” I kneel down and hold him tight, trying to gasp for air around the incredible excitement and overwhelm for Kevin. My lips press to Luca’s cheeks and he buries his face into my side as I stand again.

“The Minnesota Wild are your Stanley Cup Champions!” The announcer yells as confetti falls into the general seating area. I laugh in response, tilting my head back and feeling the paper settle into my hair. Kevin just won the Stanley Cup. He is finally a Stanley Cup Champion.

“Everything is okay.” I say to Luca again. I turn and see Laura holding Lacey who is watching with wide eyes like her brother. I turn back to the rink and point down to the ice where Kevin is still being mobbed. “Let’s look for daddy.” I tell Luca as I pull him onto my hip. He’s gotten so big it’s hard to hold him up here, but he needs the comfort. It’s so loud. I’m grateful for the baby headphones both of the kids are wearing. Eventually, the Wild players pull apart from one pile and focus on giving hugs all around. I see Kevin and Luca points excitedly. “Wave, bubba!” I tell him as Kevin looks our way. He searches for us and when he finds us his eyes brighten and his smile somehow gets even wider.

“Woo!!” I yell to him, bouncing with Luca who puts his hands in the air. I blow him a kiss as tears fill my eyes and stream down my face. Everything he has ever worked for has lead to this moment. I can barely breathe with the pride I have for him. The long-time Minnesota sports fan in me also can’t quite believe what just happened.

Quickly, the red carpet is rolled onto the ice and the Stanley Cup makes it’s long awaited arrival onto the Xcel Energy Center ice to the roaring applause of the State of Hockey. I beam with pride as I watch Kevin clap his hands and yell along with the fans. Ryan Hartman wraps him into a tight hug again and they both laugh. It’s a hug filled with history- from Nashville to Minnesota to Stanley Cup champions. I glance down the row at Lauren and we grin at each other. Then, a round of boos greet the commissioner as he begins his introduction.

Matt Boldy comes in next, joining the hug until Ryan breaks away. Matt and Kevin embrace. The hug is tight, clasping each other like the brothers they have turned into. Matt changed our lives on and off the ice. I can’t imagine not having him here to celebrate this with.

“Uncle Matty.” Luca points excitedly at me.

“Yeah, baby. Uncle Matty and daddy.” I press my nose into his hair, hiding my large grin. Matt says something to Kevin, who points in our direction. Matt’s eyes lock on me and I give him a fist pump.

“Proud of you!” I mouth to him. His boyish grin fills as he waves in acknowledgement.

“Joel Ericksson Ek, it is my honor to present to you the Stanley Cup.” Joel skates forward and after a moment to pause for pictures, he grabs it in both hands and lifts it high into the sky. The crowd roars and I sob happily in response watching it all unfold. This moment of greatness not just for our family but for this entire state. I yell and cheer holding Luca to me as he buries his face in my shoulder again. I rub his back soothingly, watching as Joel skates his lap. When he is done, he sets his eyes on Kevin and I know it’s his turn next.

My husband grips the edges in both hands and thrusts it above his head while laughing through a wide smile. His excited yelp is drowned out by the sound of the fans. Tears fall down my face as we yells back to him in response. I bite my quivering lip as he skates closer to us, giddy in response to seeing us cheer for him. He brings it to his lips and kisses it before skating back towards his teammates. Laura snaps away pictures of her brother and then turns the camera on me to capture my teary mess of a face.

“Congratulations! This is yours too.” She tells me confidently. “All the sacrifices we have all had to make for this. It’s ours.” She nods at me and I agree.

The countless hours his parents spent driving him places. The terror and hopefulness of allowing their teenage son to move to a different country to find competition that challenged him. A sister who continuously understood that Kevin’s games came first. A wife and mother who rocked both her kids to sleep alone while her husband was out on a 14 day road trip. All the nights I fell asleep gripping his pillow, wishing it was him. Laura is right; this is ours.

Soon, team representatives are next to our section, ushering us up the stairs and down the elevators so we can join our boys on the ice. Kevin’s parents and Laura help with the kids.

“I’ll take him.” Jan, says, grabbing Luca from my arms as he was beginning to fall asleep on me. “You go to him first.” He nods at me as we step out of the elevator. I look at Renata who nods her head in agreement. I give them a small smile as we are directed down the tunnel.

Stepping carefully, we reach the ice and I search for Kevin. He’s across the rink from us laughing and skating away from Kaprizov who is dumping water all over him. Kirill laughs as he empties the bottle all over Kevin’s head. Kevin spits out the water onto the ice and runs his hands through his hair, shaking the excess water off. His eyes lift to the tunnel. When he sees me, I feel like the only person in this entire world.

I don’t even think about the slippery surface of the ice, or the fans, or the media, or honestly, our kids. I just run to him. He meets me in the middle and catches me effortlessly. I wrap myself around him and immediately begin shaking at the excitement of being in his arms. He smells absolutely awful and he’s wet and now I’m wet and I don’t care about any of it. All that matters is the feeling of his body connected with mine.

“Baby! I am so, so, so, so, SO proud of you.” I squeal to him joyfully, pulling back and looking at his face. “My Stanley Cup Champion.” I wrinkle my nose cutely at him, placing my lips hungrily on his. He skates slightly backwards as our lips nip and tug at each other greedily. I can hear the click of a camera and I don’t know who it is or where this picture is going. I’m too wrapped up in Kevin to care.

“I love you.” Kevin says to me as I slide down from his arms. My boots hit the ice and he reaches down again and kisses me. His lips are greedy, sucking up every ounce that I’m giving him. “So fucking much, Samantha Fiala.” My name comes out of his mouth in a breathless whisper. The sound of my full name sets my body on fire and I want all of him instantly. After all these years, he knows my tells. He chuckles in recognition. “Later.” He kisses my nose and wraps an arm around my body, turning towards where our family is coming towards us. “I see our final baby in the very near future.” He squeezes my side as his mom approaches for a hug. I don’t get the chance to agree with him, but I do. A Stanley Cup baby is a pretty good story.

The celebration continues on the ice, then into the locker room and the family lounge. We laugh and cry and share stories of the successes and struggles to get here. After midnight, the players start to confirm plans of going out in downtown to continue the celebration at an upscale rooftop bar. Despite the exhaustion I feel, Kevin and I agree to join the group. We can sleep in a few days when the excitement dies down. I look over at our sleeping kids on the couch and know we need to get them home to bed before we meet up with the rest of the team.

“We have some sleepy babies, mama.” Kevin murmurs to me as he grabs Luca and I grab Lacey.

Laura comes home with us and offers to stay with our kids for the night while we go out to celebrate. I rush up the stairs and into our closet, shrugging off my black Fiala jacket and looking at the available outfit options. What does one wear to a Stanley Cup celebration?

“Wir sind bald draußen.” I hear Kevin say to Laura as he walks into our master bedroom. I hear the soft click of the door and Kevin appears in the doorway.

“I’m not sure what to wea- Oh!” I exclaim as Kevin grabs me, lifting me off the ground and roughly sets me on the dresser in our closet. “Right here, huh?” I say breathlessly as he kisses down my neck. His hands are unruly and greedy on my body. I moan in response to his lips and eagerness.

“Laura is upstairs. Try to be quiet.” He advises me, tugging at my shirt. Our lips part briefly as he lifts it over my head. He is back to my lips for a moment before his mouth trails down my chest. He buries his face in my breasts and grinds his hips into me. He is warm and hard and my inner core clenches in response.

“Mmm, Kev..” I whisper as he tugs at the button on my jeans. I grab the belt on his suit pants and pull it apart. It takes mere seconds before his erection is at my entrance. When he feels how wet I am, he pushes in quickly and I lose myself in the feeling of him. He pauses there for a moment, watching my face for the stitch of pain to turn into pleasure. He slowly slides an inch out and then thrusts right back in. The dresser shakes from the movement of our bodies. I moan desperately in response and he grins down at me.

“Holy fuck, you feel so damn good, baby.” He growls as he begins to move quickly. “The entire time we were on the ice, I wanted to bend you over and fuck you against the boards.” He pounds into me in a steady, hard rhythm and I’m gone within moments. Something about when he gets like this- horny, needy, and just the right amount of rough- has me crashing fast every time. Kevin pulls me into his arms and walks us into our bedroom. When we get on the bed, he begins to move again, slower, almost painfully slow. I wrap my legs around him to hold him close to me. He brushes a loose strand away from my face, leaning down and kissing my lips tenderly. “ I love you, babe.” He places feather light kisses along my cheeks, then sucks lightly on my neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I murmur. He slows his pumps to a stop and I pout in response.

“For everything. This wouldn’t have happened without you. I wouldn’t be this version of me if I didn’t have you. I’m so lucky. The life we have… that you’ve given to us…”

“I think you had more to do with this than you’re giving yourself credit for.” I laugh, squeezing my muscles around him. He groans in response and dips his head in pleasure.

“Maybe.” He finally admits, “But I’m a Stanley Cup Champion because of you, Sam. Your support, sacrifice, and unconditional love brought our family here.” He is looking at me through serious brown eyes and I swallow hard in response. “We always said three. I want to complete our family now.” He whispers as he begins to pump into me faster. The rhythm is delicious and I can feel my second orgasm building within me.

“Me too.” I respond. “A Stanley Cup baby.”

“I know we shouldn’t pick favorites, but come on, it won’t even be close.” My chest heaves with loud laughter.

He begins to move faster inside of me again, cutting off my laugh with a breathy moan. His hands go to my breasts and his thumbs slowly circle my nipples. I arch my back into his waiting palms in response. I tilt my knees closer to my chest to allow him deeper. There it is. Our groans fill the room. He strokes that marvelous spot inside of me. My skin breaks out in goosebumps in acknowledgement. Kevin reaches down and places his lips over mine to catch the deep, primal wail coming out of my mouth. He pumps hard twice more before his hips jerk awkwardly as he finishes inside of me. Our mouths break apart after he comes as we both gasp for air from the highest of highs.

“That should do it.” He laughs, pulling out. I giggle in response, shoving away the dark cloud of our last attempts to conceive.

“I feel pregnant already.” I joke to him.

I know this one will be different.

Five weeks later, after multiple Stanley Cup Celebrations, a parade down West 7th, and not nearly enough sleep, I smile down at the pregnancy test confirming what I already knew. Pregnant. I walk out of the bathroom where Kevin is coloring at the kid’s table with our older two babies. He perks up when he sees me walk into the room. A wide grin breaks onto his lips when he takes in the look on my face. He stands up and dances over to me, gripping my hips and kissing me tenderly.

“Our Stanley Cup baby.” I giggle when we pull apart.

“So lucky.” He whispers to me, resting his forehead against mine.

Our little family is almost complete.

#letters in your last name au #sam X kevin fiala #Kevin Fiala Fic #los angeles kings #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

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purplelupins · 2 years

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Obedience

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

FARGO set in season 3

Pairing: V.M. Varga x reader

Warning: nsfw, swearing, mentions of sexual harassment, smut, Varga is so hot but gross and if you don’t want to read about it move along.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Working for Stussy Lots LTD. was supposed to be a stepping stone for y/n in her career as a business woman. Being a receptionist with the duties of an intern, however, barely filled her desires.

Getting coffee, making copies, while also answering the phone, greeting guests and aiding Emmit Stussy and Sy Feltz in their general work while also being office eye candy was not on her job description. But in sleepy St. Cloud, Minnesota, there weren’t a lot of options for a business grad student. So y/n sucked it up, and kept her head facing forward.

“Good morning Mr. Stussy. Here is your morning coffee, and you have two messages.” Y/n sat the coffee down on Emmit Stussy’s desk and handed him the two pieces of paper.

“Thank you.” He responded absentmindedly. Emmit took a sip of the coffee and immediately spat it out, “What the hell is this? Milk? I told you yesterday that I’m taking almond milk from now on. Stella’s orders. Do I have to do it myself?” He barked at her.

Y/n lost any pleasant expression her previously had. “My apologies, sir. I’ll make you a fresh cup-“

“Don’t bother. You’ll just mess it up. Go make copies of these documents and geez the phone is ringing, aren’t you going to answer that?” Emmit was an asshole. Y/n hated him.

“Right away sir.” She gave him a tight smile and took the documents before striking back to her desk at the front and picking up the phone, “Good morning, Stussy Lots LTD. How may I help you today?”

And that was how most days went.

The low hum of the copy machine almost put y/n to sleep. She watched as one after another after another paper popped out the side. Y/n was snapped out of her daze when her hairs stood on end suddenly.

“Ah good morning y/n. Looking lovely today.”

Sy Feltz. Y/n loathed him. A pig.

“Good morning Mr. Feltz. Thank you very much sir. “ She cringed. Then she felt his hand graze her bottom and she wanted to vomit.

“How could I not say something?” He have her a smirk under his thick moustache. Normally she didn’t mind facial hair but his reminded her of how his breath stank of alcohol during holiday parties and how he would always find a way to feel her up. Between him and Emmit she had an encyclopedia of violations of company policies and marriage boundaries.

Y/n gave him an uncomfortable laugh and grabbed her files as fast as she could and walked back to Emmit’s office to drop them off. Then. Ack to her desk to manage appointments and try not to break into a sob; her education feeling beyond wasted.

She didn’t remember how many times she tried to complain, but every time Mr. Stussy backed up Feltz and he said he didn’t know what she was talking about.

Just another day.

“Good afternoon, Stussy Lots LTD. My name is y/n, how may I help you?” Y/n stared at her computer as she set up another appointment for Sy and their lawyer. Seemed they were meeting a lot lately. Y/n placed the phone down and when she looked back up, she almost jumped out of her skin. Staring down at her was an exceedingly tall man with an eeri smile on his face. He was gaunt and tired, his teeth were crooked and needed a good brush. But he was a new face and that was welcome.

“I apologize sir. I didn’t see you there. Good afternoon! How may I help you?” Y/n gave him a nice smile. Before he could respond, Emmit came out from his office in a rush and plastered that shit-eating smile on his face that showed too many teeth.

“That’s alright, y/n I got it!” He waved her off, “What can I do for you friend?”

“Mr. Stussy. What a day. What a day!” The man responded, y/n liked his voice. It wasn’t harsh, and his accent was pleasant, “I was hoping to show the boys the new office.” He said.

New office?

Emmit looked lost and uncomfortable all of a sudden, “The-?”

“It’s this way I believe?” The man began walking past y/n down a hall before he quickly turned back and said, “Thank you my dear. Good afternoon to you too.” And with that he went down the hall to where there were indeed empty office space.

Emmit quickly leaned over y/n’s desk and whispered, “Call Sy.”

Y/n nodded and picked up the phone. Something was happening. And y/n could tell that no matter how much he pretended, Emmit didn’t know what was happening and he had zero control.

She smirked internally as she dialled the phone number for Sy. Karma is a bitch Mr. Stussy.

She could hear him down the hall trying to talk to the tall man and his associates, but to no avail.

“Hello Mr. Feltz, Mr. Stussy has requested you come to the office immediately.” She spoke calmly.

He stuttered on the other line and hung up quickly.

Y/n no sooner placed the phone down and the elevator doors opened again. Men with dolly’s of files and boxes wheeled in past her desk. Y/n stood slowly and looked at them. She could hear Emmit down the hall.

“Stop! We have rights!” He cried.

She stifled a laugh.

“Emmit, Emmit, you’re making a scene.” The tall man said.

Well said.

The boxes kept coming, man after man.

After 15 minutes of watching them, Sy finally came though the door, looking equally confused and uncomfortable.

“Mr. Feltz, I don’t know what’s going on…there was a man-“

“Oh good! They’re here.” He said. Y/n raised an eyebrow- what was he hiding?

“Remember when I told you we’re expanding our IT department?”

“No.” She said.

“Well we are…so…” he walked away nervously.

They were up to something.

Y/n could see the tall man in Emmit’s office, leaning against the windowsill like it was his office, not Emmit’s. He turned around, speaking to the two men now in the office; y/n had been staring at him for too long and he glanced at her, catching her. He smirked.

Y/n quickly fell into her seat and was suddenly very interested in going through the emails. Mostly condolences on Irv’s passing.

The door to Emmit’s office opened and the tall man began walking to the elevator infront of y/n. A blush rose to her cheeks, trying to not look at him.

“V.M. Varga.”

Y/n looked up slowly. He stood there, towering over her desk. He held his hand out; it was large and his veins poked out gently.

Y/n took it carefully. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and shook it.

“I’m V.M. Varga. I am an associate of Mr. Stussy’s.” His voice made her hair stand on end. It wasn’t creepy per se, but it was strange. Slow and calculated.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Varga. I’m Y/n L/n, but please call me y/n.” She gave him a grin.

“Pleasure.” He dipped his head to stare at her on her level and released her hand.

“Meemo and Yuri will be here to make sure our transition is smooth, but I won’t be here for a couple days. I trust you’ll be of service to them when you can?” He asked.

Y/n nodded her head, “Of course, Mr. Varga. Whatever you need.”

Varga was surprised by her compliance.

“You have a good day, my dear.” He went to the open elevator.

Y/n gave him a bitter smile, “I’ll try sir.”

The three men disappeared behind the sliding door, Varga watched the girl behind the desk until the door was shut.

“Keep an eye on her.” He murmured to the men at his sides. They nodded.

A few days had passed. Y/n had learned the names of the two men who had come with Varga that first day. Meemo and Yuri.

Y/n liked them. They were intimidating but pleasant. The day after they had all come in initially, Yuri had come to y/n’s desk, leaned across and simply said “We don’t have any problems here?”

Y/n had stared up at him, “No problems here as long as you don’t make any for me.”

He gave her a slow smirk. “Yuri,” Pointing to himself, “That’s Meemo.”

Y/n had nodded, “Y/n. Pleasure.”

They came and went constantly over the coming days, always holding a briefcase. She was curious, but it was above her pay grade to ask. She didn’t care as long as they didn’t ask her to get them coffee or try to feel her up.

They were quiet, but y/n wanted to know more about that V. M. Varga. There was more to him than just an associate. She could tell.

It was a few days later, and both Emmit and Sy were constantly on edge. They snapped at her even more, once even tugging her out of their office by force- she had a bruise for days. Emmit all but humiliated her over nothing in front of the entire office when she told him he should consider a different plot of land to purchase when going over some files; he only stopped when Yuri and Meemo all but interrogated him.

Y/n was grateful. Yuri had said that he was disrupting their work and making the office uncomfortable.

But what she didn’t know was that they informed a certain Englishman. And he was revolted. This was his office now, and he would not have misdemeanours happen under his rule.

Another day passed. Y/n sighed out of boredom. Stussy had been a mess- evidently his wife of 25 years when she found a sex tape of him. Nasty.

Y/n cringed as now he would be on the search for some pity harassment. Around midday, y/n settled into the break room, searching for a nice cup of tea. She searched every shelf, and it wasn’t until after a moment that she saw the box on the top shelf. A good foot away from her hand. She signed.

Y/n was just about to give up when she felt a chest pressed against her back, she jumped.

Stussy.

He was impossibly close and his face was desperately needy. Y/n’s heart thudded, not knowing if he would do something worse.

“Hey y/n. You’re sure lookin! Nice. New skirt? Sure shows off those legs-“

“Emmit?”

Y/n snapped her head to the door of the secluded room. Varga. Standing tall as if Stussy was trespassing.

He was.

“Emmit do you mind backing away from the poor girl.” He walked into the room and Emmit suddenly became all twitchy and started stuttering, “I-she-she, well, you see- I”

“Oh do save it.”Varga shook his head, “Now then, were you needing something up there, y/n?” He turned his direction to the girl who had stopped breathing. She stared up at him wide eyed, but thankful.

Emmit stormed out, embarrassed.

“Yes sir. I was trying to get the tea from the top there, see? I’m afraid it’s just a bit out of my reach…” she said quietly. Varga gave her a smile and nodded, coming next to her. Y/n didn’t move, letting him stand in her space. She almost gasped when he stood next to her and reached up with ease.

“There you are, my dear,” He placed the box in her hands gently and closed the cupboard, “Would it be dreadful if I asked you to make an extra cup?” He asked, a small smile on his lips.

Y/n gave him a smile, “You don’t have to ask sir. I was going to anyway.”

That small smile stretched out across his face. Y/n half wondered if he would bite her.

“Thank you.” With that he turned and went back to his office, leaving y/n alone to think.

What just happened?

Her mind ticked.

She barely registered that she boiled the kettle and made the tea. It wasn’t until she was walking to the once-empty wing of the office to deliver the tea that she snapped back to her body.

Tick.

Y/n tapped her knuckles on the closed door, not wanting to disturb them. Who knows what they were doing. After a moment, the door swung open- it was Meemo.

“It’s alright Meemo, it’s for me I believe.” The man stood aside to let Varga come to the door.

It was a wonder he didn’t hit his head on the frame.

“Here you are sir. Wasn’t sure if you took anything in it.” She handed it over nervously. She didn’t like how he made her so calm when everyone was so on edge around him. It was odd. He was odd.

Tick.

Y/n sat at her desk. Another few days went by and she was barely paying attention.

What she did know was that she was never bothered by anyone anymore. She could sit peacefully at her desk and she knew why.

Tick.

Varga would walk through the front of the office almost every day, being greeted with the same beautiful eyes and smile each time.

He craved that voice of hers saying “Good morning Mr. Varga!”

He relished in the blush that would form on her face when he would stop and say “Good morning y/n.”

She truly was wasted there. That had to change.

It was around 7:30 on Wednesday night. Y/n waited for the last few employees to go home before locking up. It was ridiculous how long they made her wait some nights. She rested her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes.

The ‘ding’ from the elevator made her look up, two of the last employees were leaving. Finally. Y/n stood and brushed her skirt. She never wore anything amazing. Just simple things that didn’t cost too much. No one noticed anyways.

She made her way down the isles of offices and cubicles, turning off all the lights, until she got to the once-empty wing. The light was on under the door.

Strange. She could have sworn they left.

Y/n knocked, “Mr. Varga? I’m just closing up for the night. Do you need any-“

The door opened, the man in question stood where her knuckles had just been.

“Evening, my dear. I do apologize. Had some loose ends to tie up I’m afraid.” He mused, walking back into his office to grab his coat and briefcase. Yuri was behind him.

“Yuri wait for me downstairs. Won’t be a moment.” Varga instructed the man. He nodded and walked past y/n. She heard the elevator door ding open and shut. Suddenly very aware of how alone they were. Varga shut and locked the door and y/n began walking back to her desk to grab her things.

Tick.

She decided to cross a line she had drawn for herself.

“Mr. Varga?” She asked slowly.

“Hmm?” He hummed, standing by her desk.

“You…” she took a deep breath, “You don’t work for anyone, do you? There is no Narwal.” Y/n didn’t know why, but she had to say something. She had seen the files and read the data. And V.M. Varga was no employee. He watched her.

“You’re behind everything.” She whispered.

That loan. She had a bad feeling about it when Emmit had said they didn’t ask for anything in return or as collateral. That wasn’t a loan. That was an investment. A virus.

Silence surrounded them. Varga stood there, thinking.

“Very good.” He said finally.

Y/n let out a breath.

“How long have you known?” Varga stood up straight as y/n shrugged on her coat and draped her purse across her shoulder.

“I knew something was wrong with that loan since I heard about it. No collateral? Come on. A moron could see that there would be something sinister behind it.” She smiled.

A laugh came from him, it was dry and tired, “You give them too much credit, my dear.”

Y/n nodded. She knew she did- she had to; they employed her. Varga stared at her for a few moments, thinking. Weighing his options.

“You’re wasted here.” He said. Startling her, “You have a business degree, yes?”

She nodded.

“And you’re being treated like a dog’s breakfast here.” He added, disgust in his face.

“Well I don’t have a lot of options here in St. Cloud…can’t afford to move so I’m stuck for now.” She nodded, hanging her head slightly.

“You ever consider working for someone else?” He pressed.

Tick.

Y/n could see he was going somewhere, “Of course. It’s not like I enjoy being felt up by unhappily married men. I’ve got a pretty face and that’s where most people stop. I’ve got more brains than this whole office put together I swear.” She ran her hand through her hair, the added, “Not including your wing of the office, sir.”

“I assumed.”

“I also have enough dirt of the both of them, Emmit and Sy, to put them into very uncomfortable situations.” She added.

He liked that.

There was a question hanging between them. Finally after what seemed to be hours, he asked.

“I could use someone like you on my side. Ever consider?” He slipped his hand into his pocket.

Y/n smiled up at him, “The side of the devil himself?”

“I suppose.”

“What’s in it for me?” She asked, curious.

“How does a $50 000 signing bonus and a hefty salary sound?” He said seriously- all jokes aside.

The air left y/n’s lungs.

Her mouth hung open.

“You’re joking.” She managed after a moment.

“Do I look like I’m joking my dear?” He wasn’t.

“No.” She whispered.

“So? I haven’t got all night.” He pressed the elevator call button.

Y/n stood there.

What about her work there?

Her references?

Her time and energy?

Her connections?

“If you have any doubts I’m sure we will be able to reach some sort of consensus.” Varga leaned against the wall, waiting.

Tick.

Y/n walked around the desk slowly and up to Varga. She held her hand out, which he took and shook.

“Welcome, Miss l/n.” He smirked and led her into the now open elevator.

“I look forward to working with you, sir.” She said, suddenly realizing that she invited the devil inside. More than she knew.

“Oh! Take this. Go buy yourself something nice. Can’t have you put to waste in such drab clothes.” He handed her a credit card. She wondered what the limit was on it.

She laughed. “I tried to dress as unappealing so they’d leave me alone.”

The elevator doors opened and Varga gestured for her to step out first. The lobby of the building was dead quiet. Y/n could see Yuri outside with a car.

Varga turned to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch, she actually welcomed it.

“They ever touch you, you come to me. They ever breathe too close, you…?” He waited.

“I come to you sir.” She finished.

“Good girl.” He squeezed her arm, “Come to my office tomorrow morning. Don’t go to that old desk, it’s not yours anymore.”

Y/n nodded, butterflies in her stomach.

Tick.

It felt strange taking the elevator knowing that she wouldn’t have to sit infront of it ever again. Y/n had indeed bought herself a few nice things. The had also taken time to do her hair- slicking it back into a tight bun. That first morning, y/n made sure to be a little late. Just so Stussy and Feltz would be there to know that she no longer worked for them.

She had bought herself a pair of high, black trousers that fit her perfectly and cinched in her waist, a soft v-neck blouse that showed off her neck and sternum as she stood tall in her heels- the heel high enough that she could effectively stab someone. To top it off she wore a beautiful trench coat akin to Varga’s, though much newer.

The sound of her heels clicked in her ears as she exited the elevator. Front desk empty. She shrugged off her coat and placed it over one arm before making her way past the Stussy and Feltz offices.

Stussy came first. He look a few moments to register who she was, then coming out the door, “ y/n! Where the heck are you going? You and k are going to have a talk later about your lateness today.” He followed after her, y/n paid him no mind.

Fetlz was second and last. He saw Emmit, then y/n and his mouth hung open. Was it Christmas? He too popped out of his office. Both men followed her like puppies. Pathetic.

“Say y/n are we getting raises or something today? Seems like our lucky day! You look great!” Sy caught up her and grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop “I’m talking to y-“

Before the words even left his mouth his own hand was snatched off of y/n’s harshly.

“No you’re not. Not anymore.” Varga materialized out of nowhere and tossed Sy’s hand away in disgust. “You will never speak to miss l/n ever again unless spoken to first. And you will never touch her. Is that clear?”

He circled y/n, placing a protective arm around her. The men nodded slowly, looking terrified.

“We was just- y-you know. No hard feelings and all that? We never meant any-“ Emmit stuttered.

Y/n turned around and Varga followed suit. He strode next to her and leaned over to say, “Welcome to the truth, my dear.”

Y/n shivered.

What have I gotten into?

“Was it truly that easy?” Y/n stared out of the office window that was once Sy Feltz’s. She was in disbelief how easily manipulated Emmit was.

“If you know the pressure points of a human mind, anything is possible, my dear. For Emmit Stussy, however, I didn’t need to know anything profound…crumbled like a house of cards.” A dry laugh came from him. Y/n turned and stared at Varga sat with his feet up on the desk leaning back. He was watching her.

“Wish I could have been there.” Y/n walked to the front of the desk and stood tall. He had been right to recruit her.

“Shall I go back to typing up my blackmail diaries, sir?” That was what they called them. They were documents upon documents of misconduct in the office towards herself and what she had witnessed from others.

“Off your go then. Oh! Could you fill this cup with water please my dear?” He held out Sy’s old cup that his poor wife had given him. If only she knew.

“Not a problem, sir.” She smiled and took the cup. He stared and watched her.

He was up to something.

When y/n returned with the cup full, Meemo, Yuri and Sy all stood in the office. She tapped the glass and Varga waved her in. Sy almost jumped away from her, likely due to countless threats from Varga. Y/n smirked and handed the cup into the waiting hands of Varga.

“Thank you, y/n. I’ll find you later.” He gave her a crooked smile.

Y/n shivered. Not out of disgust, more out of anticipation.

“Yes sir.” And with that she exited the office and went to their private wing to continue her documentation.

The files were finished.

Y/n stood in the large office, leaning against the windowsill, arms crossed. It was very early on December 19th, snow fell outside, and there was a quiet hum in the office as not one else was there.

Y/n had just informed Varga of her finished work. He was pleased. The documents would come into play very soon.

It was been almost strange working for someone who didn’t corner her every 5 minutes for a feel-up or abuse her mentally and physically. It was especially odd as V.M. Varga was not a kind man. He was a business man in the billionaire business. No time for niceties. But he was pleasant to her. Very pleasant.

Y/n had squeezed her eyes shut as he left a room more than once to rid her brain of the terrible thoughts she had of him. He wasn’t a terribly handsome man. He was almost scary from his massive height to his unkept hair to his unkept teeth. But something about him make y/n ache.

He was a fairly open book. Not ashamed of anything. Y/n decided on that early morning that she would ask him why he never tried to touch her; convinced she was destined to be felt up her whole life.

“Mr. Varga, sir?” She asked.

“Yes?” He said.

“Why is it that you have never tried to touch or harass me? I’m not trying to say that it should be in your nature or anything…I’ve just gotten so used to it that I notice it greatly that I’m no longer uncomfortable.” She wrung her hands, trying to not insult him.

Varga observed her for a moment. He stood slowly and placed his hands in his pockets.

“As a business man, I believe it is most important to establish a working relationship between oneself and their…partners. Knowing the line and not crossing it I suppose. I may not be a man of many values but I do know when to behave. Mostly.” He laughed.

Y/n nodded, half understanding him.

“So you don’t find me attractive?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Did I say that?” He slowly stalked towards her. Taking in every move she made. He was a predator, there was no doubt of it.

Y/n began to blush and looked away from him. “N-No, sir, but-“

“You’re wondering what I think of you?” He slowly cocked his head to the side. His tall frame towering over her. He still wasn’t touching her, but y/n was dizzy on his proximity. It was demanding and intimidating and y/n couldn’t get enough.

She stood her ground, the windowsill digging into her thighs. “I am.” She looked back up at him.

“What would you like to hear, my dear.” He whispered, just a foot away now.

With every passing second her mind went fuzzier and fuzzier. She didn’t know what to say. When she had initially asked the question she didn’t think he would say much. Maybe laugh it off or tell her about a Russian saying. Not this though.

The air disappeared from her lungs.

“I-“

“Cat got your tongue?” He leaned down a couple inches, close to her ear. The hairs on her neck stood up and goosebumps spread across her arms and legs. She didn’t know what to say. She was dizzy, not able to look away. His breath fanned across her cheek.

“Perhaps I ought to show you, since words are alluding us tonight?” His breath tickled her neck. Y/n nodded obediently. Varga smiled and placed a kiss just under her ear.

Y/n gasped.

The kisss instantly sent shocks down to between her thighs. Varga seemed to enjoy the sound as he slipped his hand into the hair at the back of her head and pulled. She moaned in surprise.

“Are you quite sure my dear?” He murmured against her skin, licking her ear.

“Yes…” she whispered with baited breath.

Please please please please!

“Yes…?” He pulled again. She winced.

“Yes sir.” She corrected.

“That’s a good girl.”

Y/n grasped his tie and pulled, and Varga took the invitation. His lips descended on hers before she could register; they were dry and he tasted of mint, but y/n was drunk on it. She could feel his tongue lick her bottom lip. Y/n welcomed him inside, gasping as he smoothed his tongue across her’s. A low moan came from her throat, he liked that. Varga moved his hands to her thighs and pulled her up onto the ledge of the window; she wrapped her legs around his hips and gasped again when she felt his arousal hot and pressed against her.

Without even realizing, her hips began rubbing against him, desperate for friction.

She pulled away to look up at him, he smirked and showed those crooked teeth of his. He saw how blown her pupils were. She was so desperate for his touch. He reviled in it.

“Looking for something?” He teased.

“P-please. Sir. Please-“ she stuttered.

He stared at her like a wolf would it’s prey.

“Something like…” he growled. Varga slid a hand up her soft thigh, under her skirt, swiping one of his long fingers across her soaked panties. He touched her too gently, then pulled her hair again; almost saying that he can stop playing nicely at any moment.

She hadn’t dreamed in a million years that V.M. Varga would be trancing his thumb across the most sensitive part of her body and making her beg for more.

Y/n nodded her head vigorously at his question. He smirked and brought his lips down to hers again, tugged her panties aside and slipped two long fingers inside her; she moaned loudly. He pulled back to speak against her lips, his tongue flicking out against hers, “Good girl. Look at me. There it is.” She stared up into his eyes, mouth open in ecstasy. He was slowly pumping in and out of her, hooking his fingers in just the right way.

How the hell did he know…?

“Now tell me. Is there anyone else who touches you like this?” He whispered in her ear, that English accent was heavier now. It made y/n’s inner walls clench around his fingers, he noted.

“N-no sir.” She managed before another moan came from her throat.

“And will there ever be anyone else to touch you like this?” He was torturing her. And she couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck- no, no sir!” She gasped, her pussy was getting beyond sensitive, she knew she was close, he did too.

“How can I be so sure?” His voice lowered even more.

“B-be-because -ah! I-I only w-want you. Sir. Fuck! Please!” Tears pooled in her eyes.

“Please?” He asked innocently.

“Please! I need to- I’m going to- Ah!”

“Going to?” He stopped moving. She wined. He decided he liked that sound too. She was so dumb for him.

“I’m going to cum sir! Please!” She gripped his shoulders, pleading for him to help her finish.

“Ahh is that what you want?” He resumed his speed, feeling her grow tighter with every stroke of his fingers. He decided she would hear his voice as she came, “Listen to my voice. You’re going to cum on my fingers because you’re my obedient girl. Then once you’ve finished, I’m going to shove my cock inside you and fuck you until you can’t remember your name. Do you hear me?” And that was all it took.

“Y-yes! Ah!” She squeezed her eyes shut and she felt his devour her mouth as she came hard around his deft fingers. A rush of cum dripped out of her onto his hand. She slowly released her vice-like grip on his suit. When she opened her eyes, she saw him smirking wolfishly down at her. He wished he had a camera to take a photo of her like that. Lips swollen and eyes heavy, cheeks flushed. Panting.

For him.

Varga slipped his fingers from her and held them up to his mouth, licking them once, then turning them to her, “Open.” He commanded.

She obliged, and he stuck his fingers inside her mouth for her to taste herself. He watched her lick them clean.

“So obedient.” He murmured.

Y/n felt her heart beating in her ears, she needed more. He knew it.

Varga reached down and unbuckled his belt, opening his pants and tugging his boxers down to his knees. Y/n barely had time to register how large he was before he was rubbing the head of his cock against her. She closed her eyes again, but he pulled her hair again and said, “Eyes open.”

Y/n fluttered them open and stared up at him. As soon as she looked at him, he smiled that crooked smile and pushed his cock inside her. Her brows pitched up and her mouth opened in a gasp. He was longer than she had thought, and he stretched her so deliciously she almost came again right there.

Once all the way in, Varga began to pull out again in a painfully slow pace. Y/n regained that tight grip on his arms, needing something to hold onto.

He was surprisingly strong, his grip on her never failing. She wondered what else he was capable of. Y/n let out a cry when he quickly snapped his hips and pushed back inside her.

“Now then, I’m going to ask you one. More. time.” He growled out, thrusting inside her with each word, “Who do you answer to?”

“Y-you, Mr. Varga.” Y/n moaned.

“And who do you belong to?” He was close, as was she; her walls squeezed him tightly.

“Y-YOU! V.M. VARGA, SIR! I’M YOURS!”She screamed, her pussy clenched once again as she came. He growled and dipped his head to her neck, biting her and sucking at the skin, marking his territory.

“Mine.” With that, he came inside her, back going ridged. He groaned and hunched over her. Y/n wrapped her legs tightly around him.

After a moment, he straightened up and removed himself from her. Y/n went to hop down but before she could, Varga handed her a handkerchief; she took it slowly, watching him. He went to step away, but she gripped his tie and brought him back down for one more dizzying kiss. As she pulled away, she nipped at his lip. He smirked.

Y/n hopped down from the window ledge; her legs were weak and she stumbled into his arms. Varga pulled her up and inspected his work on her neck.

“Don’t try to cover that.” He gestured to the dark mark.

She nodded silently and smiled, “Now why would I hide your work, sir?” She called as she walked out of the office. His eyes followed her as she left.

He was right to hire her.

Such an obedient girl.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@funandfancyfree

#v.m. Varga #Fargo #VM Varga #david thewlis #reader insert #Fargo reader insert #Fargo season 3 #V.M. Varga x reader

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pilothusband · 3 years

Text

Abducted Amphora

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (not to an excess), food mention (they eat pizza), non-explicit tension, mentions of stealing shit, hints at a boss/employee relationship so there’s a slight power balance there, age gap that isn’t mentioned (he has years of service and she’s almost brand new)

Word count: 1,972

Author’s note: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday! Lightly edited, unbeta’d. This one is pretty tame compared to my other works. Thinking about turning it into a snapshot series. Let me know what you think!

A smattering of footsteps clatter throughout the courtyard, echoing off the old walls that surround you. Sprawling greens adorn almost every inch of the balcony, reaching out to an impossibly blue pool situated in the middle. You can’t help but gawk as you walk through the museum, trailing your boss by a few paces who is currently following the curator, a middle-aged woman with bouncy curls and a wardrobe to die for.

A few minutes prior, she had introduced herself as Vanessa Harrington, given a firm handshake to the two of you, and hastily made her way to the exhibit where an expensive piece of artwork was stolen.

“What’s weird is, this isn’t even the most expensive piece the museum owns,” she says, glancing backwards and waving her hands. How she manages to walk briskly in stiletto heels without looking forwards is a mystery to you.

The stolen piece is a Panathenaic amphora from Hellenistic era Greece. It was most likely used to fill with olive oil to give to Olympic champions. Not to say it isn’t valuable, but it had sat nondescript amongst bright and flashy paintings that were incredibly rare and sought after.

“And the security cameras were disabled prior to the theft?” Your boss, Marcus Pike asks, scribbling in his notepad. Vanessa nods in confirmation. “Then they were enabled right after, as if the thieves knew how to hack into the system.”

“Either they knew how to hack into the security system or they had enough insider knowledge to disable it,” you voice your thoughts, not even aware that you were speaking out loud.

Marcus looks over to you, his warm brown eyes flicking over your face in acknowledgement.

Every time his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself freeze up for a moment. No matter that you’ve been working with him for nearly a year, it’s as if time stops every time you look at him. His jaw, square and strong, along with his soft brown eyes that give away to his emotions at any moment. His broad shoulders always manage to get your pulse going, along with his small waist, showcased by the form-fitting button downs he wore under his suit coat.

“We’re going to need all information regarding museum personnel, as well as any vendors that drop by regularly,” Marcus shifts his attention over to Vanessa, who nods decisively.

“Absolutely. I have that all on my office desktop and can get that to you ASAP.”

Vanessa doles out more details for a few minutes and Marcus jots them down– in his unreadable handwriting no doubt– and then Vanessa bids you adieu and spins on her heel to her office, giving you two free rein over the museum.

There isn’t anymore DNA evidence to go over. The local police already had their personnel collect it days prior and the scene was spotless once you arrived. The thieves had been meticulous in leaving as little evidence as possible. The only fingerprints found were already processed and pending a match. They were most likely from an employee, and there’s a good chance it was just normal prints left behind from dusting priceless artwork.

Once Vanessa is out of the room, Marcus turns and places a big hand on your bicep.

“Good job back there, agent.” He flashes an easy grin. Marcus is an incredible boss. He’s driven, observant, kind, and knows when he has to make the tough calls. He’s a natural-born leader. You haven’t been with the bureau for long, being a junior agent among a team of seasoned professionals, but comparing him to other supervisory agents you have met, he’s warm and kind, always making sure his team is in good shape. He’s the kind of guy who’s prepared for anything, whether it be backup for a shootout with an unsub or someone in the room needs a pen before a staff meeting.

You can’t help but feel flushed at his praise. Despite Marcus’ easygoing nature and his openness with the team, he always seems to keep you at an arms’ length. It was getting to the point where you were wondering if he was regretting hiring you in the first place. Marcus often rotates the team when it comes to working directly with him on cases, and you have only worked directly with him once– your first ever case.

Initially you’re convinced you fucked up so badly that he didn’t want to pair up with you afterwards, but then the case report made its way back to your desk and your evaluation was normal, good even.

“Thank you,” you reply, ducking your face down to hide the growing heat licking its way up your face.

“Let’s grab some lunch, get those files from Mrs. Harringon and start digging.”

You nod in agreement and turn, walking towards the exit. You don’t notice the subtle movement, but Marcus trails you, arm raised as if he’s about to touch your waist, but pauses halfway through and scratches at his chin.

Later on that night, you’re holed up in Marcus’ hotel room, hunched over your laptop reading up on all of the museum employees. Marcus took on the task of reading over vendor files, his shoulders set much straighter.

Your back is screaming at you and your eyes are sapped of all moisture as you blink rapidly, trying to will your tear ducts into submission. It’s too early in the night to fall asleep with the amount of work you have to look forward to, and the longer it takes you to crack the case, the more likely the thieves are to get away with the crime.

“I think we could use a break,” Marcus says from across the room. You look up blearily, noting the look of concern he’s giving you, brow furrowed. He must have caught you in your tired state somehow, between poring over files and jiggling his leg absent-mindedly.

“Can’t argue with that,” you chuckle, rubbing at your eyes.

“I’ll order room service, compliments of the bureau,” he says, smiling sideways. “I’m feeling pizza, what do you think?”

“Pizza sounds heavenly,” you groan.

“What do you want to drink?” Marcus asks, his eyes scanning over the menu unfolded next to his laptop.

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate, trying to decide on caffeine or something healthier. “I think the room has plenty of water.”

“I was thinking something a little stronger,” he says, a small grin making its way over his features. “Nothing too crazy, since we still have work to do.”

“What’s your opinion on red wine?” You ask, wanting to select something you both can agree on.

“I love it,” he says, giving you a toothy smile. “Pinot Noir?”

“Sounds perfect.”

An hour later, you’re both seated on the floor, pizza box spread open between your bodies, munching away at the slices of pepperoni you both decided on and sharing the bottle of wine Marcus ordered.

“Turns out it’s bad optics for the boss to drunkenly sing 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton off-key, and I still get teased for it to this day, which is why I refuse to join the team on karaoke nights,” Marcus finishes. You’re clutching your stomach as you laugh at his story, head thrown back as you giggle.

You’ve only had a glass and a half of wine at this point, but you can already feel a persistent buzzing in your brain, your head feeling much lighter and much heavier simultaneously. This is what you get for skipping breakfast and lunch, opting to replace them with an afternoon snack and a late dinner.

Marcus laughs along with you, shaking his head and looking down at his slice of pizza.

Your laughter dies down and there’s a moment where it’s quiet, the only noise in the room being Marcus chewing on the crust of his pizza slice, and you taking a sip from your glass.

“This is a nice change,” you blurt out, immediately regretting your outburst.

“Mmm,” Marcus hums around the bite in his mouth. He swallows and looks up at you in question.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your eyes meet after he speaks and you can feel your heartbeat accelerating in your chest. God, why did you have to open your big mouth?

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just…”

You don’t continue and Marcus shifts on his knees, leaning forwards to spur you on.

“It’s just what?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You say, studying the box of pizza below you, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Nothing you could ever say is stupid,” he says with conviction. His tone makes you look up at him in wonder.

“Tell me, please,” he adds softly.

“Well, I thought you didn’t like me. Or that you didn’t think I was a good agent.” You can feel your stomach plunging and your cheeks burning at the admission.

“Why would you think that?” Marcus almost looks hurt.

“God, it’s dumb,” you babble. “But I noticed you haven’t had me partner with you on a case in ages, and you seem to get on with the rest of the team so much easier.”

You risk another look into Marcus’ eyes and he looks absolutely crushed. He cards a hand through his locks and his eyes look far away for a moment. You physically deflate, feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“Hey,” he says, scooting forward and moving the pizza box aside. “You’re an amazing agent. Everything I put in your evals are the truth.”

You don’t reply, but smile softly at him.

“I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel undervalued,” he puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. The look on his face, much closer to yours now, is absolutely putting you through the ringer.

Marcus looks disheveled, which is rare for him, as he always looks put-together in the office, not a hair or thread out of place in his tailored suits. His hair is sticking up and his tie is loosened. His brow is furrowed in concern and you have the overwhelming urge to soothe your thumb over it.

“I just–,” he starts and pauses, trying to come up with the right words. “I was so distracted during that case with you, and I never want to put you in that kind of danger again. Especially as a junior agent.”

Distracted?

“What do you mean?” You ask, blinking in confusion. What could have possibly distracted him from the case? This man, so motivated, so focused. He was diligent to a fault, at times.

“I–”

He’s cut off by his cell phone, ringing insistently in his pants pocket. He lifts a finger to pause the conversation and answers the phone.

His expression is focused as he listens to the other end of the line, murmuring affirmations as the call continues.

“Okay, sounds good. We’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

He hangs up the phone, shifts his legs and stuffs it back in his pocket.

“We’ve got a lead on the suspects,” he tells you. “A bodega near the museum has a security camera that caught a large utility van parked in front, right around the time the amphora was stolen. The owner said they’re only available to talk before they open, so we have to be there by 5:30 AM.”

You scramble to your feet and shut your laptop while Marcus clears the pizza and wine. You watch him silently as he finishes the task, noting his stiff shoulders and the carefully neutral expression on his face.

You’ll have to ask Marcus about the conversation later, if you can work yourself up to it. For now, you’ll let your imagination run wild and hope someday you can get over this juvenile crush you have on your boss.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @manalg14 @comphersjost @a-skov @sheresh0y @greeneyedblondie44 @blackmarketmummy @brandyllyn @gracie7209 @bootyliciousbilbo @dobbyjen @vanillabeanlattes @knivesareout @fastandfeminist @phrog-seeds @janebby @xoxo-callie

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #writer wednesday #marcus pike fanfiction

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constantlydiscombobulated · 3 years

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charlie weasley x reader fic - a weasley christmas:

The third Christmas after the Battle of Hogwarts was different, the first two were hard. The first was so soon after the events which occurred, the second held a bit of distance and the third, this Christmas, is when people had finally let themselves relax and get back to normal. Since the war you had returned to your training to be a healer, in fact you had completed it. You were getting a couple of years’ experiences before jetting off to do something spontaneous with your skills.

Your Christmas had always been the same, you were one of the many bodies at the Weasley abode; a background character and accomplice of Charlie who you shamelessly flirted with to make his face turn the beetroot shade that you were highly entertained by. He was a ginger so of course he easily blushed.

So, this year, when you appeared outside the warm, familiar home in which you would spend the next few days you could finally feel the tension behind your shoulders relax. You were eight years older than Ginny, seven years older than Hermione yet you knew it was tradition you would be in quarters with them.

You and Charlie kept things long distance, which in hindsight wasn’t the best choice but when the second month of next year finished you were transferring to the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania to work as head healer, coincidentally where Charlie worked, yet none of the Weasley clan knew of this yet.

You had sent a bag of things to the burrow the night before, so you assumed someone had stowed it away where you were sleeping for the next few days. It was Christmas eve and as per usual you were the last to arrive. It was just shy of 8pm when you left St. Mungo’s as each year you drew the short straw and did the second to worst shift.

Your feet crunched against the moist yet crisp grass below your feet. The winters always hit the burrow hard, a feature you loved the most. You stepped over a couple of sleeping gnomes, before glancing up at the stars – they always shone so brightly, something unusual for the location of the house. You opened the unlocked door and slipped right in.

As tradition plays, the Weasley’s would be drinking eggnog, sharing stories of the year and blasting obnoxiously loud Christmas music. So, when you entered, you weren’t even noticed, barely and not immediately by Charlie. He looked up after he frowned at his watch, you presumed it was because you were a little later then you had informed him. He slipped from the crowd of gingers and noise to meet you in the kitchen.

You still wore your scrubs and white jacket with your name embroidered on the pocket. You had charmed a small embroidered dragon onto it last week when there was a quiet spell at mungo’s. you smiled underneath the dim light in the kitchen, seeing a plate of food on the table.

‘y/n’ it read in molly’s cursive scrawl. You smiled at the gesture, it dawning upon you that you were indeed starving. Charlie kissed your forehead before sitting across from you. He had been in England for a few days, but you had pretty much worked back to back shifts in order to get this time off over Christmas.

“how was your day, love?” he asked, you had just taken a huge bite into a sandwich from the plate, chewing and swallowing with haste in order to reply.

“busy, the bags under my eyes are darker than your soul”

“didn’t think I had a soul” he retorts, you smirk at him. Charlie was always in favour of a well-timed ginger joke, “they’re torturing you because they know their best healer is ditching in a couple of months”

“yeah, ditching for a Weasley of all people” you joked, he mocked offence before sinking back into light conversation.

“you might be tired but you’re still the most beautiful girl this side of Europe” he comments, sipping from your glass of pumpkin juice.

“if the other beautiful girl is Sofia, I’m going to kick you in the shins”

“she’s a dragon love, you are the most gorgeous human” he adds, laughing a little on the end.

“I’ll forgive you if you stop drinking my pumpkin juice.” He chuckles, drinking the rest from the glass before placing it beside the plate you were eating from. “you’ve got more scars” you notice, gesturing to his hand.

“don’t tell mum but I’ve got a couple more inked dragons too” your face smiled in delight; he had told you in letters he had planned to, but you hadn’t had much time to write these past two weeks.

“as long as your bedroom door is unlocked tonight and I can slip in, I’ll promise you the world” he rolled his eyes but nodded.

“how is Sharon?” he asked, “the battle-axe”

“she’s off my case now the festive season has been bestowed upon us. She didn’t want to get me in secret Santa again after last year”

“what--?”

“I gave her some of the wizard wheezes, the custard creams I think.” You laughed, your connections to the Weasley’s almost gets you excluded from secret Santa every year. “I got you a present” you claim, changing the subject. His ears perked up at your comment, he hummed in response, “a date. March 25th. We’re gonna elope.” You stated, your voice quiet not wanting to be overheard. Charlie beamed at you, about to take your hand in his when a nonchalant voice filled the room.

“late as usual” George calls, tackling you in a hug as you chewed the remainder of the sandwich in your mouth. You hugged him back briefly, Charlie, jealous at the hug, watched the exchange. “why didn’t you shout?” he quizzed.

“was Hank Marvin, Weasley, Charlie just sat down to pester me” you teased, “anyway, I’m showering soon, I’m still in my scrubs” you complained, gesturing to your clothes.

“still a fine piece” Charlie joked, this obnoxious flirting had been apparent since you met Charlie, Bill had originally asked you home for Christmas seven years ago. You had spilt fire whiskey over him in the three broom sticks and you were instant friends.

“oh Charlie” you cooed, dramatically holding your head against your head, “you spoil me with your sweetness and love” you had put on a love-sick voice which only made the men in the room snort. “Char, sort the shower for me. I don’t wanna find a gnome or a Weasley in there when I’m starkers” you asked, he smiled politely and nodded. You followed him upstairs picking up some things from Ginny’s room to use in the shower or drop off in Charlie’s room.

He sorted the bathroom out for you, surveying it for ghosts or gnomes. You walked in changed from your work gear, dressed in a silk, high rising gown, barely tied around your body. His gaze glanced at you and quickly back to the shower, his hand beneath the running water to check it was at your preferred temperature.

“this is new” he stated, you nodded shyly shutting and locking the bathroom door behind you. You hung the gown on the hook on the back of the door, he sat on the closed toilet seat your pyjamas on his lap. He watched your every move as you stepped into the shower. His face was flushed, his body language restraint.

“you can come in you know” you called, to which he followed through on quicker than the speed of light. His body pressed against yours, he just hugged you from behind nuzzling his face into your shoulder. You continued your actions of showers, trying to disturb Charlie as little as possible.

“stop doing that” he whined, you were confused you were shaving your legs and putting some soothing shower gel on them to prevent a rash. You hadn’t realised you had been creating friction. You turned to face him, he looked like he did in his most pure form. His glasses had been discarded on the windowsill by the shower, his long hair stuck to his wet form. You kissed him, begging to just hold him.

Charlie had visited ‘home’ a month ago, but the first few nights he was back was always the worst; you both were clingy, sleepy and horny for each other. The con of long distance, I guess.

Things escalated quickly, he had you against his chest, legs wrapped around his waist and against the tiled wall. It was antics like this which would get the two of you caught but you couldn’t find it in yourselves to care.

Once the deed was all said and done, you rinsed yourself off and got out the shower. Charlie borrowed the towel you had brought in to dry his body with before putting his tartan pyjamas and Weasley jumper on; he only wore this arrangement as you loved it on his so much. You slipped on a pair of shorts and one of Bill’s old Weasley jumpers dating back to his time at Hogwarts. He had donated it to you the first year you spent here so you would feel like you belonged here.

The year you met Charlie.

You engulfed Charlie for one last hug before sneaking out the bathroom separately. You had disapparating into the girl’s bedroom to put some things away when you spotted the hickey on your neck. You audibly groaned, readying yourself to playfully punch Charlie on the arm when you next saw him – yet, it was nothing a glamour charm couldn’t hide. Over the years you had become quite skilful at this charm, the thing was you sort of liked the thrill that came with being with Charlie without his family knowing.

It meant three things: one, that it was private and yours – his family couldn’t meddle, two, the sex was fantastic when you had to slip it in wherever you could and three, he could come home for a few days and not have to see his family which meant your whole house smelt of him.

You slipped downstairs, intending on getting a mug of Molly’s famous hot chocolate with the bit of baileys in it served only at Christmas. It was the highlight of your day – what got you through the shift.

When you appeared downstairs, everyone cozied up by the fire there was an empty seat next to Bill and Fleur, a full and steaming mug of hot chocolate waiting for you. When you sat down, Bill dove in for a hug.

“how’s my favourite short arse?” he called, watching as you brunt your tongue on the hot chocolate.

“I’m great” you sighed contently. He smiled, “any news?” you asked him, he shook his head.

“nothing exciting. I spoke to you last week.” He joked, “I think I’ve got a new case in Chad in the new year. Gotta do a risk assessment and see if it’s worth relocating for three months or handing it over to another curse breaker.” He replied, “someone with less to lose” you nodded.

“I got my final date” you offered, he looked intrigued, “end of February. don’t know where I’m getting off to though” you added, smirking to yourself a little.

“anywhere you thinking?” Charlie asked, butting into the conversation.

“France?” Fleur joked, “you would ‘ate it there” she laughed.

“I was thinking Romania, Charlie needs someone to annoy him 24/7 and I would have complete access” you teased, Charlie scoffed. Bill and Fleur just smiled, looking at each other knowingly.

“oh, come on y/n, how long you keeping this gig up?” Bill laughed, but said it softly enough to avoid other listening ears, “you can’t act like there’s nothing going on here”

“why?” You asked, knowing full well why not.

“why?” Bill cackled, “because when I visited you randomly three months, I walked in on you shagging my brother on your couch” he whispered, “I saw way too much, the idle gossip would’ve been enough.”

You blushed a little, Bill had indeed walked in on you and Charlie. It was hours after Charlie had arrived in the country; he hadn’t told his family of his return, specifically wanting to spend the long weekend he had off with you.

You were originally just catching up with a couple mugs of tea but as things did, one thing lead to another and Charlie was balls deep in between your legs barely dressed when his brother walked in saying,

“wotcher y/n/n, was in the area thought I’d stop in!” Bill had seen what was happening and it only took him a fraction of a second to work out what was happening. Of course, the hair indicated it was one of his brother’s, but it was the huge scarring and dragon tattoo that told him it was the sibling that was supposed to be halfway across the world.

You both scrambled apart, not getting the satisfaction you so craved. Charlie pulled a pair of jogging bottoms on; you pulled a pair of knickers on and his t-shirt down. He sat beside you on the couch, his hand rested on your bare thigh.

“I honestly have no words” Bill laughed as he sat on the arm of the armchair in your flat. “how long has this been going on?” he asked, clearly amused by the whole ordeal. You shrugged, working it out in your head, but Charlie answered first:

“16 months” he called; it had warmed your heart that he knew.

“so, what is it? You dating or just hooking up?” Bill asked, amused at your mortified look.

“dating” you replied, your voice small. “fucking hell Bill. I’m kind of glad it was you and not anyone else in your family” you laughed, as if you didn’t laugh, you’d be in despair.

“who else would it be?” Charlie asked amused, unaware of the drop in visits his family often made.

“your mother.” You called; his face paled at the thought. He could imagine the lecture; he could imagine the hurt.

“don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone. Fleur will find out though, she always does.” Bill mused, “but this, this is brilliant. Just don’t tell mum until you’re ready for the marriage conversation.” He joked, smiling.

“you staying long?” Charlie asked, taking a sip from his cold tea, “make you a cuppa if you want” he added.

“I was gonna stay for lunch, but you guys seemed busy” he laughed, “I can’t believe I’ve just seen it. Oh merlin, my eyes.” He whined, but still laughing. Bill stood up to leave your flat, this time with Charlie following behind to lock your door, although Bill would not be coming back.

“we’ll pop round later?” Charlie asked, Bill nodded, “we’ll send a Patronus we don’t want this to happen again” he joked, his brother hugged him briefly, before patting him on the back.

“it’ll be sweeter if you wrap your peter” he sang, “don’t want any grandkids do we” he teased before disappearing, Charlie scoffed before getting back to what was interrupted.

Once you had been greeted by everyone, most made their way up the wooden hill. Bill and Fleur had helped to convert the attic, so they had somewhere to sleep without Charlie being present. You hugged Molly and bid her a goodnight, promising to catch up properly tomorrow while helping her with the dinner. After last year, Hermione was not allowed in the kitchen. You watched as Charlie and Bill walked up the stairs, Charlie sending an obvious wink your way. George watched from his door across the hall and grinned. The dynamic you and Charlie held almost created as much chaos as Fred did just by breathing. It wasn’t truly Christmas until you and his strange older brother flirted senseless.

You disappear behind the door, the two significantly younger women lay in their beds, idly chatting about their boyfriends. It amused you had petty their chatter could be.

“so, y/n, anyone new on the scene”

“nothing new, still the same old thing” you comment, avoiding their question. “I’ve started meditating so if you don’t see me when you wake up, that’s where I’ll be” you bluffed, but they seemed to buy it. That was an advantage of being so much older; the younglings didn’t suspect a thing, all except George and that is only because last Christmas he had spotted the mud on Charlie’s knees and made one off hand joke that stuck with you. You tuck yourself into bed, waiting for the shallow breathing from the women before sneaking out. You tiptoed quietly, having learnt which planks not to stand on over years of experience, you crept upstairs – past Percy’s room, before opened the door to Charlie’s room which was left ajar.

“was starting to think you weren’t coming” he whined, you scoffed taking off your layers and climbing into bed with him – quickly settling under the covers.

“they kept gossiping about Harry and Ron” you started,

“please don’t tell me about my brother and sister sex life. They’re still babies to me” he whined, nuzzling his face into your hair. The single bed you lay in wasn’t ideal but with you being so small in comparison to Charlie ‘lanky fuck’ Weasley it worked well enough.

“I didn’t listen in long enough, pretended to sleep so they couldn’t interrogate me.” You sighed; you had watched the golden trio grow up.

The following morning Charlie woke you by accident, you knew he would. It was 6 am, he was on Romanian time, so he was wide awake. but him waking you by pressing soft kisses on your neck and collar bone wasn’t something to get you complaining.

“mornin’ love” he called when he felt you stir beneath him. You lay like that for another ten minutes; he rested his head on your chest listening to your slow heartbeat. “Merry Christmas” he added, whispering to make sure you weren’t heard.

You climbed out of his bed, putting a jumper back on. “we’ll continue this tonight” you told him leaving the room before anyone else awoke. You hopped downstairs knowing Molly would be down soon to begin the food preparations.

You were mixing the ingredients for home-made stuffing when a pair of familiar arms wrap themselves around your torso, a warm face against your neck. They squeezed you when you moved on to make a cup of tea. This was a usual routine in the mornings you spent with Charlie. He sprung away from you settling in a chair by the table when he heard the creaking of the stairs.

It was Molly, who was yet to come around and realise the two bodies in the kitchen, when she did, she sat with the cup of tea you had just poured for her. She was talking with Charlie as you filled the sink with warm water to peel the potatoes; you tried to grab the paper bag of potatoes off the ground, but you couldn’t seem to get a good grip and continued to drop it.

You hadn’t noticed Charlie come over to help you, until his hand grazed behind you to move you and do the heavy lifting for you.

“didn’t realise I was getting a gun show this morning char- “you comment, your usual flirting wasn’t acknowledged by Molly.

“I usually charge for private shows, but for you – they’re free” he said and winked.

“if you wanted me in your bed Charlie all you had to do was ask” you retort, his cheeks red after his bark of laughter.

“what you doing tonight, say, 2 am?” he snorts, knowing his mother is listening.

“I’ll be waiting for my secret lover in the garden” you tease, “he’s tall, ginger, athletic and dashing”

“sounds a lot like me” he flirts, grinning.

“shame I’m meeting Bill. He knows how to treat a woman” you joke back, biting your lip wondering what he’s gonna say.

“that why you’re wearing my jumper” he snorts, you look down to see that you had indeed picked up the wrong jumper when you dressed in the dark.

“I can take it off if you preferred?” you ask, pausing for a second or two, “might need a little help with that, any takers?” you asked. He was searching for something to say but instead came closer, peering at his mother who had tuned the two of you out and busied herself with meaningful tasks.

“you need to stop” he whined, his tone barely above a whisper. “between the flirting and you dressed like that— “he comments, blushing blood red.

“and miss you blush? Not a chance.” You push against his bare chest, “see you round boy wonder” he frowns, before disapparating upstairs.

The festivities fill the day, between gift giving when everyone made it downstairs and fire whiskey in the evening it was a success. As per usual, the Weasley clan congregated around the open fireplace, eating mince pies to sober up slightly.

You sat and watched the room, there was always something going on. right now, for instance, Hermione was in the process of hitting Ron. You didn’t know why.

“Ronald! If you do that again I will—”

“you’ll what ‘mione?” Called Ginny, loving to tease the couple.

“Ron I’d pack it in if you want her to jingle your bells” you comment before Hermione could reply. Her face went red not expecting that comment from you of all people. Ron and Hermione were new to sneaking about; somehow Harry and Ginny had the art down but the other two had not – and when they snuck off someone always walked in or asked them if they had a good time.

Hermione had a smart mouth – something she had learnt from spending too much time with Ginny, yet she didn’t have a smooth comeback, just a flustered look on her face. This made everyone roar with laughter.

“this is why I love it when you and Charlie come home” George laughs, “you know you can come alone you don’t just have to come with Charlie”

“if I don’t come with Charlie who am I going to flirt with? I tried Percy last year and he fainted” you chuckled. You turned to Charlie and asked, “I’m getting a candy cane from the kitchen, you want one?” he shook his head.

When you returned from the kitchen you ran into Charlie who had been changing the vinyl on the gramophone. The whole house cheered from their seats, initially you were puzzled. You laughed when you realised you had been caught under the mistletoe. You didn’t object but rolled your eyes. You had been caught a few times with a few of Molly’s boys: the first time was with Bill and he kissed your forehead, the second with George who kissed your cheek and now with Charlie.

“come ‘ere then” he muttered and pulled you close to him, giving you a chaste kiss. The fire whiskey flavour lingering on his lips. You pulled away and laughed, you and Charlie returned to your seats with no change in your behaviour. George looked at you from across the room holding an unsure look.

You demolished your candy cane when a few people decided to turn in; Charlie went first, a usual routine, then Percy, then George who was sick of being a singleton in the room, then the youngsters. Bill, Fleur, Molly, Arthur and you remained. You began to put away the dishes that had been left to air dry so no one would have to do them in the morning. You had sent everyone else up, promising to blow out the candles when you headed up yourself.

On the way up you successfully got to the third floor; Molly and Arthur’s room on one side of the hall and Charlie’s on the other. You walked into the hallway between the two when Molly caught you.

“y/n dear, are you alright?” she asked, on her way to the bathroom.

“yeah, just heading to the balcony for some air before bed” you replied, hoping she’d leave you to it.

“nonsense dear, you’ll catch a cold dressed like that.” She cooed, making it a mission of hers to escort you back to your shared room. You told her you didn’t need her to assist you, being 27 and all, but she dismissed you. Once she was sure you were settled in bed with an open window, she closed the door and turned off the light in the hallway.

You could hear her footsteps for another half an hour at least knowing that there was no chance of sneaking up tonight. You had fallen asleep in wake of waiting for her to sleep but that chance never came in your consciousness.

You had only realised the lack of sneaking around the following morning when you awoke at the crack of dawn. On your bed however was an old black hoodie, it was singed around the cuffed sleeves and when you brought it to your nose it smelt it you realised that it was Charlie’s. he must have snuck in when you didn’t come, leaving it behind when he saw you sleeping. His cologne was all over it, not too much that it smelt like a tart’s handbag, but enough for you to notice. It was the complete contrast to his usual honeysuckle and grass smell, the exact opposite to his natural aroma. You slipped it on in replacement of his Weasley jumper and pulled on a pair pyjama trousers with obnoxious reindeers on them with matching red fluffy socks.

It was an acceptable time to head downstairs for your last full day you were staying here. You had a shift in four days so wanted to be back in your usual routine before you went back to work. Charlie planned on staying with you for a few days before having to return to his duties in Romania.

You pop the kettle on and turn the radio on to a low volume, it is some wizard Christmas song you’re not familiar with being the muggle born that you are. You hum along when the familiar arms wrap around you – of course it was the usual suspect.

“what’s up hot-stuff” you chime, in case anyone else is also awake and about – keeping up appearances and that.

“I missed you last night” he hummed as he kissed your neck gently.

“you’re just horny” you retorted.

“well y/n, you know what my two favourite things are” he toys.

“dragons and sex, the ordering varies” you replies, having heard the remark previously. You finish making two teas and turn around to face the man clinging to your body. In one swift motion he picks you up and puts you on the kitchen counter.

“sexy trousers” he comments, smirking at the attire. “could help you take them off?”

“sexy bedhead. could help you learn what a hairbrush is?” you bicker, smirking back at him. He leans in and kisses you; it was needy and hot. He stands between your legs, his hands making their way underneath the hoodie where your naked flesh sat- his thumbs rubbed against the bra you had on. your hands were a cliché, knotting in his long-tangled locks. His body pressed against yours, no room for the holy spirit, yet somehow wrapping your legs around his waist brought you even closer.

“turns out I really fucking missed you” he comments as you take a breather. You roll your eyes as you pounce for him, he grabs you with ease lifting you up properly.

“why is your room so far away” you comment, not expecting a reply. But when he disapparating you both there in an instant any sign of doubt or fear of getting caught went from your mind.

“we should tell your family” you sigh as he works on getting your bra and hoodie off.

“you wanna talk about this now?” he asks, his hands playing with your breasts. You nod, apparently you did. “we tell them when we go downstairs” he huffs, taking off his own layers and pulling off your seasonal trousers.

Two knocks sounded at the door.

“Charlie?” it was Bill.

“go away” he called, continuing his actions and your body wasn’t complaining.

“are you guys---” He began but you couldn’t focus on that, Charlie pushes in, more voices erupt outside.

“yes” Charlie shouts back. The door handle wriggles in the same moment. You exhaled shakily, both from the internal feeling but also from relief that the door was locked.

“mum he’s busy leave him alone” Bill called, there was no stopping Molly on a warpath. Charlie had knocked a lamp from the table when moving his arm so he could cover your mouth.

“what’s he doing in there? Charlie!” his mother shouted, but Charlie didn’t stop. He couldn’t and you certainly didn’t want him to. Charlie ignored his mother’s persistent calls until the last time she raised her voice.

“Charles Weasley? What on earth are you doing in there?” then a little silence before Charlie spoke.

“my fiancée” he yelled, his hand firmly over your mouth as he kissed your torso everywhere, he could reach.

“your what!” Molly called, the door unlocking with Molly’s use of alohomora. She was yet to open the door.

“mum don’t come in!” he shouts, this time with a sense of urgency, “I’m having a wank” he tries. But you give the game away with your laughter. Charlie’s use of wandless magic locked the door again as you both came to the end of your tether. “what’s so funny about me having a wank?” he asks, lying on top of you to catch his breath. He pulls out when he settles over you. You don’t answer him just lean up and kiss him.

“Charlie!” she shouts through the door, “unlock this door, right now”

“can’t” he exclaimed, messing with his mother. You scramble out of bed together redressing. You disapparating downstairs almost crashing into George as you land.

“moooorning” he calls, his tone implying he knows something you don’t think he does.

“hi George!” you called cheerily, picking up your now tepid mug of tea.

“anything wrong with the stairs?” he asked amused by the sudden use of apparition.

“no, this was more efficient” you inform him.

“I think, you don’t want to be in the middle of the ruckus upstairs.” You cough at his inference, “I think that my dearest mother almost walked in on you and my brother at it like rabbits and you had to escape.”

“how—”

“you’re subtle, but I’m brilliant at spotting things in the background. It’s a talent” he jokes, smiling at the end. “thought something was up last Christmas, and I was right” he chuckles after. No teasing came, no snide comment.

“is that why you’re leaving mungo’s?” he asked, you nodded.

“we’re engaged” you inform George, he is the only one around and it’s a hushed conversation.

“that’s brilliant” he huffed, engulfing you instantly. “no ring?” you shake your head.

“didn’t need one” you state, drinking more cold tea. “we’ll get wedding rings. We’re eloping though” you continued. George nodded, understanding simply.

“does this mean I can’t flirt with you anymore?” he asked hesitantly. You snorted, barking with laughter. Bill walks in with confusion on his face.

“George, if you ever stop flirting with me Charlie will lose his touch” you joke, “and I like to keep him on his toes”. Bill puts two and two together. He hugs you, kissing your forehead.

“congratulations y/n. not the way I would’ve announced I was getting married, but you know Charlie---” he confesses, you chuckle in his grasp.

“well that wasn’t how I wanted to do it either, but we were—” you caught yourself, “I’m not gonna finish that sentence”

Charlie walks down the stairs behind a red-in-the-face Molly Weasley dragging him by his arm. She looks pissed off, and you feel the tension build in your shoulders. George being the closest to you nudges you and smiles, letting you know that it would be okay. You smiled weakly at him.

Charlie is dragged in the garden and you can hear the distorted shouting between himself or his mother. It brought up a feeling inside your body you didn’t understand but you felt like you wanted to cry. You didn’t like angry shouting; it always kind of scared you, you swore to never surround yourself with it, yet your actions had caused it.

What happened next confused you, it was Percy and Fleur coming in, seeing you look a little like a dear in headlights. Fleur took your hands while Percy just walked by your side as Fleur led you to a secret spot.

“Bill used to bring me ‘ere when it got too much” Fleur admitted, you took in your surroundings, it was a quiet and slightly maintained balcony just outside the newly converted attic bedroom. Fleur sat to one of your sides, Percy the other.

“I figured that you and Charlie, were well – you and Charlie” Percy stated softly, “and I understand the distaste to her shouting. I could never stand it either.” You took his hand squeezing it.

“and you know how it was when Bill first brought me home. they all thought he was gonna marry you” Fleur added, “but I knew, he was like your older brother. You love each other but not zee way Molly desired” you sniffed.

“we kept things quiet because we didn’t want to have a big deal made. Charlie never dated someone seriously ‘til me, and I never talked about dating people because I didn’t really have the time until I met Charlie.” You complained, “when me and Charlie got together, neither of us wanted to get married. Originally it was a very casual thing but then we realised we worked together so well. we realised that if we survived the war, we would need each other”

You brought your knees up to your chin, “Charlie knows – I think. I was always scared about telling his mum. Scared she would react this way. You are the closest thing I have to a family and I can’t lose you.”

“y/n. you would be stupid if you thought that Charlie would drop you like that because his mother asked him to.” Fleur offered; you took a little solace in it. “we became great friends because we like to get away when Molly goes red. It scared me a little at first”

“this is your spot?” you asked, you felt small. They both smiled and nodded.

“Fleur has been teaching me French for three years.” Percy admitted, “it’s what we do when one of us needs some space” you nodded, not relaxing at all. “the only thing that matters is that you and Charlie love each other.” He adds after a few minutes of silence. The shouting below is no longer audible, but you can’t face going down just yet – your kind of just want to go home. You want to sit on the couch with Charlie and your best friend, b/f/n, and laugh over a bottle of red. You don’t bother sharing that with Percy and Fleur; it’s not necessary. You haven’t liked shouting all your life.

The day sets into the midday sun, you hadn’t said much more yet listened to Fleur try and teach Percy some new French. Bill brings up some snacks and a book for you to read if you want it.

“you wanna see him?” Bill asked while the other two were in conversation, he beckoned you to stand and talk with him. You didn’t respond straight away.

“was it bad?” you asked, regretting it as soon as you asked. Bill only nodded; his expression was solemn. You put your head in your hands, your mind whirring and heart going ten to the dozen. Bill pulled you in for one of those big brother hugs.

“I know you don’t like shouting and I promise he’s not gonna shout. If he does, I’ll get Ginny to bogey bat hex him.” Bill ushered you indoors to talk properly. You smile a little at him, but the dread still in your eyes. “she’s hurt. But she doesn’t realise she can be overbearing sometimes, that’s why Charlie had to get away to Romania or she would’ve forced him into some office job.” You nodded, knowing this.

“is he mad at me?” you ask, your eyes not lifting from the floor, bill rumbled with laughter, it was quiet as he knew that shouting overwhelmed you and he didn’t want to overwhelm your senses. You took his laughter as your answer.

“he could never be mad at you. you make him kinder”

After a little while of Bill just sitting with you so you could work up the courage to deal with Charlie and by further extension Molly, you gingerly turned the bronze doorknob seeing Charlie sat on the ground outside the door. He looked exhausted, his cheeks red as if he had been crying. When he saw you, he rushed to his feet, almost losing his balance in the process.

“I’m sorry” he said at the same time as you. “why are you saying sorry?” he queried, you shrugged you just felt like you should say it. “y/n/n this is all my fault. I should have told her before you came. I should’ve been more careful and most importantly I shouldn’t have shouted. I know you don’t like it and I’m sorry.”

“Char- “you called, taking his hand in your own, “are we breaking up?” you ask, he looks flabbergasted. In fact, he’s so in shock that he laughs.

“hey, you got me to propose. I’m never letting you go.” He jokes cuddling you, stroking your hair – something he knew comforted you when you were anxious. He took your hand and brought you to his room. You sat on the bed, cross-legged and faced each other. “let’s talk, love” you nodded, mustering the courage to ask what you really wanted to know.

“what did she say?”

“she said lots of things, she’s angry and upset we didn’t tell her. Which I understand but I told her we’re engaged and that we’re eloping. That our relationship is nothing to do with her, that she can like it, or she will have to pretend she does.”

“oh” you smiled, “I didn’t know whether you’d still wanna get married”

“there’s not a moment I don’t wish I had asked you sooner, god I feel like I’ve loved you my entire life.” You grin at his confession. These tender moments are the only times you saw Charlie this gentle. He was soft and quiet, he pondered on his thoughts before he said them. It was a side only you got to see, and you felt honoured.

You must have fallen asleep as when you woke a few hours later, Charlie had transfigured Bill’s bed into an armchair and pouffe and was reading his over-worn dragon encyclopaedia. You felt mentally exhausted, ready to just go home and return to normality.

When you felt able you got dressed, still wearing Charlie’s singed hoodie of course, and walked downstairs to the kitchen hand in hand with Charlie. Today had been a rollercoaster and you had decided that if Molly chose to shout at you again that you would grab your things and disapperate to your flat. Your grip in this thought had tightened on Charlie’s hand who had decided to stroke small circles with his thumb to soothe you.

When you enter the room, you’re beamed at from every angle. Ginny and Harry pat, you on the shoulder; Hermione smiles graciously, the others smile as they did when you told them but when you got to Molly and Arthur their reactions were different to everyone else’s. Arthur hugged you both, no words were exchanged but the gesture translated into a thousand words.

You dreaded turning to Molly, she offered a tight-lipped smile.

“I was disappointed you didn’t marry my Bill, but then I decided that having you as another daughter was something, I shouldn’t take for granted. I can’t say I like the way you went about hiding the relationship for so long from us, and I can’t say I understand why. I don’t like that you’re eloping nor do I like that you have snuck into his bed every night and had sex under my roof—”

“mum. We are 27 and 28 years old, the worst thing that happens is an unplanned pregnancy but we’re old enough to cope with it. Leave it out” Charlie replied, his chest puffed out, “if you’re gonna lecture us we’re gonna leave.” He told her; his voice was stern.

“but most importantly, despite those things, I am happy you found each other.” She finished after being told off by her son. “anyone for a cup of tea?” she asked, deflecting the tension.

You and Charlie curled up together by the fire, his arm wrapped around you.

“I fucking love you” you confessed, reaching up to kiss him. He meets you in the middle, innocently kissing you for a few moments.

“if you shag right in front of me, I’m gonna have to throw a molly-Weasley-level fit” George retorts grinning.

301 notes · View notes

slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Shotgun - m. tkachuk

And here is 8.7k of a road trip with Matthew Tkachuk, which honestly, is the real dream. Let me know what you think of it, reblog (I love looking at tags!!) and pop into my inbox if you’d like!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a nice brut rosé - crisp, fruity, bubbly. Plus, I like the vibes.

It all started with a text. What are the chances you can get the week after next off? Matthew had sent. Madison’s brow furrowed. Doubtful, but I can try. Are you going to tell me what this is about? There was a week left in the season before playoffs started, and with the points spread in the Pacific being what it was, the matchups were all but locked in. It took less than a minute to get a response. No :) I’ll let you know once you get an answer. She got approved for the time off two days later. Her phone rang as soon as she texted him the news. “How do you feel about road trips?”

---

Maddy had met Matthew about a little over a year prior, soon after she moved to Calgary from her hometown of Toronto. Having finished her first week of work as a computer programmer, there was nothing Madison wanted more than to let loose and enjoy a few drinks with her friends. She was sharing a two-bedroom with her best friend Emily, who Maddy would swear up and down was the sunniest, warmest, most kind person she’d ever met. Not like Maddy wasn’t a nice person — she was — but where her idea of relaxing meant going out bouldering, or camping, or a last-minute road trip, Emily was more of a homebody.

But going out meant going out, and so Emily was happily dragged along to a bar downtown; which one, she couldn’t really say. Madison walked up to the bar as soon as they entered, catching the bartender’s eye and ordering a Tom Collins. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited, glancing around the room. It was ten o’clock on a Friday night, so it was plenty packed. “What are you getting?” Madison asked Emily curiously.

She held up her Molson. “I’m a woman of simple tastes. Plus, I didn’t feel like waiting around for the bartender to actually make me a drink,” Emily added dryly.

Maddy rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of going out to a bar when you’re just going to be drinking something you could get at the liquor store?” Emily stuck her tongue out. The bartender slid Maddy’s glass over, taking her card and swiping it through quickly. “Thank you!” she chirped, whipping around to head over and snag a free table she had seen a few minutes before.

She never ended up getting to the table. Instead, she ran straight into 6 feet, 2 inches of pure Midwestern beef. “Woah!” Matthew said, steadying her as she watched her glass fall to the floor, thankfully not breaking but absolutely spilling its entire contents over the wood. “You good?”

Madison nodded, grabbing a rag from the bartender. Matthew followed suit, joining her on the floor. “Got a little on my shoes, but it’ll be fine. They won’t stain.”

Matthew nodded, giving a final wipe before taking her rag and handing both back over the counter. “Did me spilling your drink all over you ruin my chances of getting your name?”

“Madison St. Pierre,” she said, laughing and sticking out a hand for him to shake.

“Matthew Tkachuk, but—”

Maddy cut him off. “I probably already know that?” Matthew ducked his head sheepishly. “I may be a long-suffering Leafs fan, but I don’t live under a rock.”

He took a sip of his beer, leaning up against the bar. “Not from around here, eh?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just moved a couple weeks ago. I’m from Toronto, moved here for a job. I do computer programming,” she said by way of explanation.

“A smart girl.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, “I feel bad about spilling your drink on you, let me buy you another.”

Maddy laughed. “If you insist. It’s really the least you could do.”

Matthew nodded at the bartender, ordering her another Tom Collins and putting it on his tab. “You and your friend are more than welcome to join us,” he gestured behind him to where the rest of his group was sitting, “we were playing a drinking game and could use a few more players anyway.”

And that was how Matthew met Maddy.

---

Day 1

Ten days later, Madison was hefting her duffel bag into the trunk of her Nissan. It was 7:00 on a Tuesday. Normally on a day off she’d be taking advantage of every possible minute of sleep she could get, but lines to cross the border could be long and they wanted to get to Montana by lunch. She waved goodbye to Emily, hopping in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Matthew had initially suggested they just get a rental car, since it would save Maddy the 20-hour drive back. But a quick Google search let them know that the chances of finding a company willing to let them drop off a Canadian car in Nevada were slim to none. Plus, Maddy had always liked driving, so it wasn’t really an issue for her. They weren’t going to be alone on the trip; Matthew had invited Elias and Rasmus along. She felt a little bit like a school bus driver, stopping at Elias’s complex to pick him up, then Rasmus’ condo, finally pulling into the underground lot of Matthew’s apartment building. Holding one hand up in greeting, he wheeled his suitcases over to her car.

Maddy unblocked her seatbelt, hopping out to help him. “Why on earth did you need so many bags?” she huffed, turning one on its side and wedging it in between hers and Elias’s.

He shrugged. “I’ve got a bag for the trip, a bag of actual clothes and workout stuff for the series, and the suit bag.” He hung the offending article on a hook. “Did you think I’d be able to set my vanity aside for a whole four days?”

“I should have known that would be too much to ask.”

Matty threw his head back, laughing. “Anyone ever told you how funny you are, Mads?”

“Once or twice, Ratthew,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Maddy hopped back in the driver’s seat, jamming the key in the ignition and turning the engine on. “Next stop, boys, is America.”

---

Well technically, the next stop was a gas station off of Highway 2, about twenty minutes from the border. “Wait, wait,” Matthew said, a conspiratorial grin on his face as Madison took the pump out of the gas tank.

She raised one eyebrow. “What?”

He made grabby hands at her keys. “Let me drive.”

“Why?” Madison asked. “I’ve been driving for like what, two hours? I’m not tired yet.”

“I’m the only American in the car.”

Maddy put the pump back. “And?”

Matthew looked sheepish. “Someone said that the border patrol officers will tell Americans ‘welcome home’ when they’re coming back. It’s never happened to me flying so I wanted to see if it would be different in a car.”

“If it means that much to you?” she said, tossing the keys over the hood of the car. Matthew caught them. Maddy rounded the back of the car before she could see him ducking his head, blushing.

They arrived at the Piegan/Carway crossing shortly after. With exactly zero cars in front of them, Matthew pulled straight up to the booth.

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer said, looking into the driver’s side.

“Three of us play hockey, we’re road tripping down to Las Vegas before our playoff series starts in a few days,” Matty answered easily.

He nodded. “And how long will you be in the States for?”

It was clear either this man had never watched a series of professional sports in his life, or he was just following a standard script. “Depends?” Matthew said, fully aware of how questionable that sounded.

Maddy piped up from the passenger seat. “I’m driving the car back, so I’ll be back in eight days.”

“Right,” Matthew nodded, “But this trip to the US, we’ll be back in seven days. We’re flying back on the team plane, so it’s not a land crossing.” He decided to forego mentioning that, barring a sweep, they’d be back again in two weeks.

The poor officer looked bewildered. “Team plane?”

Matty shrugged his shoulders. “We play for the Calgary Flames, the team charters a plane to fly us from Calgary to wherever we’re playing and back. We decided to take the scenic route this time.”

“Okay,” he said, but Madison still wasn’t convinced he actually understood what Matty was saying. If the border officer thought anything of the American, Canadian, and Swedish passports he was handed, he didn’t say anything. Giving a cursory glance, he handed them back. “Welcome back,” he nodded to Matthew, waving the car through the gate. Matthew pumped his fist.

---

An hour later, Matthew pulled into a dirt parking lot on the edge of Glacier National Park. “WE MADE IT!” he exclaimed, putting the car in park and throwing his hands up.

“We drove three hours,” Elias said from the back seat.

“And?” Matty challenged, opening the door.

Maddy grabbed her backpack, stuffed with sandwiches and snacks that they had gotten on their way in. “If you guys brought hiking boots or good tennis shoes, now’s the time,” she said, lacing up her own boots. “There’s a loop around here that’s a little under four miles long, doesn’t sound like it’s too difficult but there is some elevation climb, so better safe than sorry.” People typically didn’t peg her for it, but Maddy was a very outdoorsy person at heart. She had taken up rock climbing in high school, and was a regular at the bouldering gyms back in Toronto until she moved. She’d found a climbing gym she liked well enough in Calgary, but with Banff just over an hour away from the city, the park had become her go-to for climbing and hiking. Matty had come with her on more than one occasion, and had surprised her with a long weekend camping for her birthday in March. The snow hadn’t all melted yet, and waking up to the powder-dusted fir trees outside of their tent had been one of the most beautiful sights of her life.

“Everyone’s got a full water bottle?” she asked, tying up her hair. The last thing anyone wanted was to get heatstroke in one of the most remote parts of the park with only one phone that could even connect to an American cell tower.

The group started off at a leisurely pace, wandering off-trail to check out anything and everything that caught their interest. The edge of the St. Mary Valley served as the perfect backdrop for lunch, Maddy pulling the sandwiches out from her bag and doling them out. “Oh thank God, I’m starving,” Elias said, grabbing his food from Maddy practically before she even had it in her hand.

“Did you not have breakfast?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. “I did, but I’m still hungry. Should have brought snacks.” Off to his side, Matty snickered.

Day 2

Elias had volunteered to take over from Matthew to drive through the night, switching off sometime around sunrise with Rasmus. “I 100% have a crick in my neck,” Maddy grimaced, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and checking her phone.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew smiled. Maddy groaned, leaning into his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, taking a few gulps before setting it back down on the floor of the car, where it promptly rolled away.

“Who do I have to blow to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” Maddy groaned. Matthew almost choked on his water. He had to get his mind off of the idea of Maddy blowing anything or he was about to have an issue. He pulled out his phone, jumping on Google maps.

“There’s a little coffee shop a few miles ahead, off of the Spruce Drive exit?” he asked tentatively.

She yawned. “As long as they sell caffeine, I’m game.” They did indeed sell caffeine, and after inhaling two cappuchinos and a small mountain of pastries later, Maddy hopped back behind the wheel. “You sure bear claws and muffins are on the meal plan, boys?” she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

Rasmus waved her off. “It’s not like you’re going to rat us out, are you?”

She shrugged, wiggling her phone in her hand as she pulled up at a stoplight. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have Coach’s number in my phone.”

Matty plucked her phone from her hand, placing it back by the center console. “Be that as it may, sweet Madison, you neglect to remember that I’m the only one with coverage in the U.S.” He might not strike most people as a particularly sentimental person, but Matthew loved his family, and decided that the extra charge was well worth being able to call his parents and sister whenever he was missing them.

She stuck her tongue out at Matthew. “You ruin all of my fun, you know that?” All he did was grin. The drive to Mesa Falls wasn’t long at all, they had just finished their food — Matty popping bites of muffin into Madison’s mouth as she drove — when she pulled over to the curb by the sign. Maddy threw the boys’ backpacks to them, pointing to the single bathroom stall in the tiny rest area. “Go change, I’ll use the car.”

“Why can’t we have the car?” Matthew complained.

She looked at him. “Three full-grown men, all over six feet, in one car. I know you see each other’s dicks all day in the locker room, but I’d really rather not have that in my car. Think.”

Matty made an “o” with his mouth. “Gotcha.”

Swim trunks were much easier to get on than a wrap bikini, Madison was finding, and the boys were finished changing well before she was done figuring out her top. She bit her lip, poking her head out of the door. “Matty?”

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Could you help me tie this?” she asked, gesturing to the halter top. “I think it’s stuck or something.”

Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he tried to stutter through a sentence. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. For sure,” he said, shuffling over to the car. He gently untwisted the straps, gathering them into a bow at the base of her neck and trying very, very hard to not think about how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers. This was one of his best friends. And best friends weren’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff. Right?

Behind them, Elias and Rasmus shared a glance. They had expected something was going on between them, really ever since the party in November, but this was something new. They had never seen Matthew gone this far for a girl before. And they liked this side of him.

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his shoulder before disappearing back into the car to throw on a coverup. “How long is the walk to the actual waterfalls?”

“Not long,” Elias responded. “Ten minutes or so?” It was an easy walk to the falls, which were mercifully empty when they got there. They kicked off their sandals, leaving the bags under a nearby bush. Matthew knew Madison was pretty. She wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a saint; she had seen him shirtless more times than he could count and he had seen her come out of his guest room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt of his after she stayed the night. His thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent. But as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in that damn red bikini, he was convinced he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight.

She turned around just as Matthew tore his eyes away, looking mischievously at him. “Last one in?” They sprinted to the water. Matty let her win.

---

About half of their stops had been planned in advance; the others were pulled from websites or Google suggestions or whatever their waitress’ recommendation was for a local must-see. The Idaho Potato Museum fell into the latter category. Rasmus had floated the idea shortly after they had left Mesa Falls, and seeing as how nobody had anything better to suggest, they ran with it.

“Free taters for out of staters,” Matthew said, reading off of the pamphlet they had been handed at the welcome desk.

“Will they give me extra since I’m Canadian?” Madison wondered aloud. “For all intents and purposes they think you live in Missouri, Matty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, she didn’t even think twice.

He passed the paper to her, the tips of their fingers barely brushing together, but Matthew could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t get greedy, Mads.” They walked down a dimly-lit hallway lined with black-and-white photos.

“Did you know that the first potatoes grown in the United States were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants?” Elias read off of a placard, his voice sounding like a disinterested radio announcer.

Maddy shook her head. “I didn’t, thank you so much for imparting on me this most important knowledge, Elias.”

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“Did you know that you could survive off of a diet of only potatoes and butter?” Rasmus chimed in, reading another sign.

“Really?” Matthew asked, leaning in to read. He turned to Madison a moment later. “Really, apparently.”

Half an hour of wandering later, Matthew and Madison had stumbled into the “artifacts” portion of the museum. “What kind of artifacts does a potato museum have?” Maddy asked, looking supremely confused.

Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we see?” For some reason, he decided it would be a good idea to hold his hand out for her. And for some reason, Maddy took it.

The “artifacts” turned out to consist of some old farm tools, dusty burlap sacks, and the world’s largest potato chip. Elias and Ramsus were on the other side of the museum, leaving Matthew and Madison to drift through alone. “Crisp, actually,” Matthew said, reading the card under the glass case. “Because I guess they’re worried about people stealing it?”

“There’s a difference?”

He shrugged. “Apparently it’s only a chip if it’s a slice of potato. This was made from dehydrated potato flakes, or something like that.” Maddy wasn’t sure if it was the sepia-tinted lighting, or the lingering memory of how Matty’s fingertips burned like fire against her back as he tied her bikini, or if there was something particularly romantic about dehydrated potato flakes, but they were alone in the room and suddenly she was looking at him a little bit differently. Matthew looked at her, gaze soft as his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly down towards her lips. Her lips. His body leaned in, and just as she closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, wondering if they were really going to do this in the middle of the Idaho fucking Potato Museum—

“We were wondering where you guys had gone off to!” Elias’s Swedish accent cut through the silence. Matthew threw his head back, silently cursing his teammate’s timing. If Elias and Rasmus realized anything was off, they didn’t say. “The lady at the front said it’s closing in ten minutes, so we thought we should head out and get something to eat.”

Maddy nodded in agreement, her cheeks burning. “Sounds good. I could go for some food.” They made their way back outside, Matthew settling behind the wheel as he steered the car back onto the highway. He tried to shake the almost-kiss from his mind, but the more he tried to forget it, the more the memory stuck.

Elias looked down at his phone. “Yelp says there’s an Indian place coming up on the left if that sounds good to you guys,” he said, shaking Matthew from his thoughts.

Maddy scrunched her nose. “All due respect, I don’t trust this town to make good Indian food. Potatoes, burgers, meat, sure. I buy it. But I haven’t seen a single person of color since we left Glacier.”

“Fair.”

The burgers were good; nothing to write home about, but Maddy was honestly thrilled to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag. The plan had originally been to drive through the night again to reach Salt Lake City by the early morning, but Maddy made it clear her back didn’t take too well to sleeping in the car, and the others agreed. “Rasmus, mind finding a hotel nearby? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just somewhere not too far off of the freeway,” Madison asked. He nodded, pulling out his phone. They had gotten tired of passing around Matthew’s phone anytime they were out of Wifi range, so after a little complaining and one of Maddy’s puppy-dog eye looks, he finally relented and turned his hotspot on.

“There’s a Holiday Inn up off of the next exit if that sounds good to you guys,” Rasmus said. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Post Malone song that Matty had plugged in. They switched the aux every few hours.

“Yeah, works for me.” Madison hummed her agreement; Matty nodded. Rasmus flicked on the blinkers, gently cruising down the offramp, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn about half a mile down the road.

Madison bit the inside of her cheek. “They’re going to have rooms available, yeah?”

“Mads, it’s May in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. I don’t exactly think they’ve got business lining up out the door.” Matty said, looking at her from the side as they walked into the hotel lobby.

The whole trip was Matthew’s idea, so he insisted on footing the bill, handing his credit card and license over to the receptionist. Maddy snickered behind her hand. Matthew turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Something you’d like to share with the class, Madison?”

“Missouri licenses look weird,” she commented.

“And Alberta’s any better?”

She scrunched her nose. “We have a dinosaur on ours. Beat that.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” Matty said, the corner of his lip twitching as he thanked the receptionist, tucking the cards back into his wallet. She handed over the room keys, Matthew passing two to Rasmus and Elias and one to Maddy. “I had us together, if you don’t mind.”

Madison shook her head. “Fine with me.” It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at Matthew’s apartment, either after going out or when their movie nights ran a little long and she woke up to Matty tucking her into the bed in his guest room. She had a toothbrush in his bathroom, a change of clothes in the dresser. She had offered to take her stuff back a few months ago, not wanting any girl he might bring over to get the wrong idea. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he had said when she asked, waving her off. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any girl home — that she knew about — since sometime around the beginning of the year.

They waved goodbye to Rasmus and Elias, promising to wake up bright and early to get the first crack at the breakfast buffet when it opened at 7. Matty swiped his card, holding the door open when the light turned green and the knob twisted. “After you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, good sir,” Maddy giggled, ducking under his arm into the entryway. She stopped at the end of the hall, eyes flickering into the room.

Matthew stopped behind her. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one bed.”

His head jerked around the corner, not like he doubted her word or anything, but he needed to see it for himself. There was only one bed. One big bed, one very comfortable-looking bed, but one bed. Matty dropped his bag on the floor. “Uh...D’you want me to call down? I can see if they’ve got another room if that would make you more comfortable.”

Madison pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re adults, we can share a bed without burning the house down.” It wasn’t like Maddy was lying for Matthew’s sake; she really was fine with it. Maybe a little too fine. But they had slept together — in the innocent sense of the word — before, and everything had turned out okay. His arm draped over her shoulder as she cuddled into his shoulder on a late night, her legs tangled in his when some of his friends from St. Louis were visiting for the weekend and took the guest room. He had offered to take the couch that night, but Maddy didn’t want to relegate him to a night of back cramps and drafty breezes, especially when he had an early practice the next day. Nobody ever made it weird, so it wasn’t weird.

She took her bundle of clothes into the shower, relishing in the feeling of hot water raining down on her aching muscles. Maddy was loving the trip, genuinely, but being in a car for twelve hours out of the day took something out of a person. Slipping into an old college t-shirt, Madison thought for a moment about putting on a pair of sweats. It wasn’t particularly cold — the opposite, in fact — but she didn’t know if it would make Matthew feel weird if she wasn’t wearing pants. Fuck it, she thought, pulling up her boyshorts. If he had an issue with it, it was his problem. Throwing her hair up in a towel to dry, she turned the doorknob, poking her head out the door. “Shower’s open if you wanted to hop in,” she said.

Matty nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t be too long, why don’t you find something for us to watch?” he asked, tossing her the remote. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and while she was tired, Maddy knew if she tried to go to sleep she’d wake up well before dawn, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted. Madison climbed up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her and grabbed the channel guide. True to his word, Matthew was in and out in under ten minutes, rubbing his hair with a towel as he walked out. Athletic shorts. Shirtless. Maddy couldn’t help but give him the once-over, having to jerk her eyes back up to his face the moment she realized what she was doing. Matthew met her eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “I can put a shirt on if you’d like…”

“No! You’re good,” Maddy replied, maybe a little too quickly to avoid suspicion.

He ducked back into the bathroom, throwing the towel over the shower curtain. “So, what did you settle on?”

She looked back at the TV. “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives?”

Matty jumped onto the bed. “Guy Fieri. What a legend. Awesome. Where’s he going?”

Three and a half episodes later, it was almost eleven, and Madison’s eyes were starting to droop. Sometime midway through the second episode, when Guy was visiting an Asian fusion restaurant in Colorado, her head had drifted onto Matthew’s shoulder, where it had stayed ever since. His arm wrapped loosely around her, Matty brought his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair that had drifted into her face. “Getting sleepy, Mads?”

She yawned, nodding and trying to push herself up. “‘M looking forward to a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Let’s get you in bed, then.” He threw back the comforter, Madison crawling under, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the lamps and TV. “Give me your phone,” he said.

“Why?” Maddy asked, her brow furrowing.

“You always forget to charge it overnight, and I don’t want you to be grumpy when it dies at 10 AM.” She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a concession, handing over her iPhone. Matty plugged it in, clambering beneath the sheets. “Sweet dreams, Mads. Good night.”

“Night, Matty.”

Day 3

The first thing Madison noticed when she woke up was the warm, unfamiliar weight slung around her waist. It took her a moment to realize that it was Matty’s arm, who hadn’t woken up yet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite identify, or maybe didn’t want to confront quite yet, it wasn’t unwelcome at all, and she savored the last few minutes of physical closeness before he woke up. And he did, wake up, that is. His cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, pulling his arm away to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Maddy ducked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mind.”

Matthew yawned. “What time is it?”

“Uh, just before seven,” she said, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. “I’d love to stay in bed a little longer, but we did promise the boys we’d meet them down at breakfast soon.”

He nodded, making a very concerted effort to not read into her statements any more than he absolutely had to. “Yeah, good idea,” he said, tossing the covers off and walking into the bathroom. “I’ll sit on you if you’re not up by the time I get back out there.” Maddy took the opportunity to change, threading a belt through her jeans and half-tucking a t-shirt. “I like the look,” he said when he walked out, as Maddy was twisting her hair up into a bun. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Matthew to compliment her; she had accompanied him to more than one charity event for the Flames as his date, but she had always been dressed up. Dress, heels, makeup that she probably stressed way too much over. Dressed to the nines, never in jeans and a t-shirt before. But she didn’t really notice, the compliment meaning just as much to her as if she’d been in a floor-length gown.

“Thanks,” she said, stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her duffel. “I packed the rest of your bag while you were in there, figured I might as well.”

It was Matty’s turn to thank her, squeezing her hand appreciatively before giving the room a quick look. “We didn’t forget anything, then?”

Madison laughed. “We really didn’t stay long enough to unpack, but yeah, we’ve got everything, don’t worry.”

---

Elias had volunteered to do the drive down to Salt Lake City. Matthew’s inner six-year-old had returned, insisting that the group stop at a dinosaur park in a rural part of Utah. What “dinosaur park” meant, Madison wasn’t sure, but it made Matty happy, so she didn’t fight it.

The museum was mostly outdoors, with life-sized dinosaur models dotting the massive field. “Were you much into dinosaurs as a kid?” Matthew asked Madison.

“Kind of?” she replied noncommittally. “I always loved learning about them, but never had like a ‘dinosaur phase’ like David or Cody,” she said, referring to her older brothers. “My family used to go to the Canadian Museum of Nature a ton when I was a kid, since it was only a few hours away in Ottawa, and it has like a billion fossils in it.”

“Which was your favorite?”

“Pachycephalosaurus,” she said easily.

Matthew blinked. “Pachycephalo-what?” he asked in confusion. He thought he knew all of them?

Maddy laughed. “Pachycephalosaurus. They had these really spiny heads. But secretly, I think I was a little bit of a teacher’s pet who just liked saying the name. Pretty sure they were actually native to Alberta?” she added. “What about you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Matty gave in, “it was the brachiosaurus.”

“How come?” she asked curiously.

“I liked the long necks.”

They spent another hour or so at the park, Matty grabbing a keychain on the way out. “They didn’t have a brachiosaurus,” he muttered, half-angry, picking up a T-rex one instead. It wasn’t a long drive to the actual Great Salt Lake, and for some reason, they had trusted Elias with the aux. Much to Maddy’s chagrin, he didn’t end up playing ABBA, and they were instead led to cruise down I-15 to the dulcet tones of J.S. Bach.

Madison looked down at her phone. “Anyone want to go see the Joseph Smith sphinx?”

“Joseph Smith?” Rasmus questioned.

“Sphinx?” asked Elias.

Matthew laughed. “You know those Egyptian statues of like the cat ladies? Where they have cat bodies but the faces of people?”

“Joseph Smith was the founder of the Mormon church,” Madison explained. “Well, technically it’s called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but—”

“Know-it-all,” Matty said in a sing-song voice. Madison shot a glare at him from the back seat.

“But most people still call them Mormons. And apparently they made him into a sphinx.”

Elias looked at her, still dumbfounded. “But why?”

Maddy shrugged. “Honestly? Beats me.” The weather had dropped too much by the time they had reached the lake to make swimming very practical, so the four of them settled for taking off their shoes, rolling up pants, and wading into the shoreline.

Matthew bent down, picking up a chipped white rock from the ground, the water just lapping at his fingers. He handed it to Madison. “For you.”

She took it gently, running her hands over the jagged surface. “Aren’t you not allowed to take anything from a national park?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” They stopped at a Chipotle just as the sun was beginning to set, Matthew taking over driving duties from Rasmus. The plan was to drive for another two hours or so, stopping somewhere in southern Utah for the night to spare themselves from another night spent in her Nissan.

They drove in silence for a while, Elias and Rasmus drifting to sleep in the back row, before a road sign caught Matty’s eyes and he spoke. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, you know,” he said as they continued down I-15.

Maddy looked over at him. “Do you want to go?” She didn’t know where the suggestion came from, but it was out of her mouth before she could take it back, and after a moment, she realized that she didn’t even want to.

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over at her before turning back to the road, the car’s headlights the only thing in sight. “You mean it?”

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” She quickly popped the directions into her phone. “It’s only a few hours out of the way, if we drive through the night instead of stopping somewhere we should have more than enough time.”

“But didn’t you say sleeping in the car made your back hurt?” Matty asked curiously.

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll drive. You’re more important.” Honestly, Maddy surprised herself with her boldness. She wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t escaped her that the dynamic between her and Matthew had changed in the past few weeks and was about to come to a boil. Matty wasn’t exactly the type of guy Madison expected to have a lot of friends who were girls. And a part of her hated that, hated that because of his reputation she automatically assumed when they became friends that all he wanted to do was get in her pants. There had only been one time in their entire year of friendship when they’d even done so much as kissed, and it wasn’t exactly what you’d consider normal circumstances.

---

It was November of the previous year, about six months after Matthew and Madison had met. Matthew had been even more in his head than normal; he hadn’t scored a single point since midway through their East Coast road trip over two weeks ago, and the disappointment was really starting to rag on him. It might not have been something he outwardly showed all that much, but those who knew him knew that Matthew was actually a deeply sensitive person, who took pride in his wins and carried losses with him well after they had faded from the minds of the rest of the hockey world.

When it had gotten to the point where his frustration was starting to affect his game, Maddy knew it was time to do something. “You’re so much more than your stats, Matty,” she had said, calling him right before she left for the Saddledome. “I know you take this personally, and you feel like you’re letting down the team, but that’s bullshit and somewhere deep down, I know you agree.” Matthew grumbled something that might have been an agreement. “Your team trusts you, they trust you with the puck and with the A, and you’re never going to disappoint them as long as you’re giving it your all. And if you’re the Matthew Tkachuk I know, there’s never a time when you don’t. And win or lose tonight, there’s nothing you could do to change the fact that your family loves you, and your friends love you, and I love you too. Okay?” Clearly, something in her little pep talk had flipped a switch in Matty, because he returned in spectacular form that night, scoring a hat trick in a roaring 5-1 win over the Coyotes. And he didn’t throw a single punch all game.

A good game without a travel day following usually calls for going out, and a great game with your best friend scoring a hat trick definitely calls for going out, so she dragged Emily along to the bar that Matthew had told her to meet the team at. Matthew had pulled her into a hug the moment she arrived, kissing her cheek and trying his damndest not to spill the beer in his hand on her shoes. An hour and a half into the night, Madison was four drinks in, well and truly drunk, and Emily had wandered off and appeared to be flirting with an extremely oblivious Noah Hanifin.

“How are you doing, Mads?” Matthew asked, coming up from behind her barstool and resting his hand gently on the small of her back.

She looked back at him, a goofy smile on her face, and took another sip of her drink. “I’m good, I’m realllly good,” she giggled. “Did I ever get a chance to tell you how good you were tonight?” Matthew shook his head, very poorly concealing a laugh. He had had more than one beer, sure, but he was nowhere near as gone as Madison. “Because you were really good. A-ma-zing,” she added, punctuating each syllable. Her eyes softened as she leaned in. “I know the points drought was starting to weigh on you, and I’m really glad you were able to do this for yourself. I’m always proud of you, Matty, but I was a little extra proud of you tonight. People sometimes write you off as just another good player without any real subsistence,” she paused, correcting herself, “substance, off the ice, but I know the real you, and the real you is even more incredible than the you that plays hockey. It’s my favorite thing to see.”

“It is?” Matthew asked softly, leaning into the hand that had begun to caress his cheek a little bit imprecisely, but that somehow communicated every kind of unsaid word between them.

Madison nodded, touching his forehead to hers, and then she tilted in. And then she kissed him. Her lips met his, and she tasted like lime and spearmint chewing gum and his favorite kind of tequila. Her lips met his, and it seemed like the room stood still; he barely heard his teammates’ wolf-whistles or Emily’s elated gasp in the background. Her lips met his, and he drank in every second of the kiss until she pulled away.

---

Maddy hadn’t been drunk enough to black out that night, and she came to the next morning with a roaring headache and the pang of regret in her heart. She thought it was shame at her behavior, embarrassment that she could act so impulsively, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized. The fact that she kissed Matthew wasn’t the issue, not to her, at least. It was the fact that she was drunk in a bar after a hockey game and that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She pushed her feelings to the side, trying desperately to focus on work and supporting Matty through the rest of the season, but they always tended to flare up when they were least welcome. Like at the Idaho Potato Museum.

Which of course meant that Matthew would choose this moment, driving down I-15 with two sleeping Swedish hockey players in the backseat, to bring it up. “I remember when you kissed me, you know,” Matty said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over his lips, like if he tried hard enough he could remember what it felt like to have Maddy’s pressed against his.

Madison froze, which isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to do when you’re driving. She thought he had forgotten. He had never brought it up, so she really had no reason to believe he would have remembered. “You do?” she asked, swallowing.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mhm. I hadn’t thought about it in a couple weeks, but back in Idaho, in front of the World’s Largest Potato Crisp…” He let out an airy chuckle.

Maddy breathed in sharply. So she hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers tapped nervously against the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah…” She trailed off nervously. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were hammered,” Matthew agreed. “But do you regret it?”

There it was, the million-dollar question that she somehow actually had the answer to. A long moment passed before she answered, figuring it would be best to just rip the band-aid off. Worst case, Matty would hate her and she’d only be stuck in a car with him for ten-odd more hours. No big deal. “No,” she whispered, voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m glad, because I don’t either,” Matty said. Madison hazarded a glance to her side; he looked almost nervous, and nervous wasn’t a look Matthew Tkachuk did all that often. “I had wanted to for a few months, but it always seemed like it was never the right time, or something interrupted us, or I didn’t know how you felt about me. But you made the first move, and I’m glad you did.”

“How come?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how long I would have waited to do something, or if I ever would have done anything. I feel like sometimes…,” he searched for the right words, “the confidence that I have on the ice can be misleading. Hockey is about reflexes and instincts and knowing the game, but it’s also thinking three steps ahead, anticipating every possible outcome and preparing for them. And that’s the part that I carry off the ice. I think I was worried if I ever brought it up with you, if I ever mentioned that I so much as remembered the kiss, you might clam up and tell me it was a stupid, drunken mistake, and I don’t know what I’d do if you said that. Because I don’t know how you feel about me, not like that”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out, as scared as she was about admitting them. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Matthew had never seen Madison like this before, unsure and worried and downright vulnerable, and it meant so much to him that she was letting him see her like that.

Matthew let out a watery laugh. “Only pretty sure? Hurts my ego a little bit.” Maddy opened her mouth, but he waved her off. “Because I’m definitely sure I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t ever how she imagined telling him, and it wasn’t how Matty thought he’d tell her, on a freeway in Southern Utah on their way to the Grand Canyon, but sometimes life throws unexpected things at you and you have to roll with the punches.

“When did you know?” Madison asked curiously.

Matthew bit his lip. “Few months ago? I knew I liked you as more than a friend probably since you kissed me, but it was after that game against Vancouver that I really understood I had fallen in love with you.” Maddy remembered the game. It had gone terribly for the Flames, a 4-0 shutout with more than one fight and the bench racking up penalty minutes. What she didn’t know was what made that one special. Matthew looked over at her, answering her unspoken question. “Why that one?” She nodded. “I think it’s because it was such a shitty game. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you had just skipped out after the end of the third, I know I can be hard to deal with after a loss. But you didn’t leave, you stayed. I remember seeing you outside the tunnel, swallowed by my jersey because it’s three sizes too big for you and you refuse to let me buy you another—”

“I don’t want another because it’s yours, and I love it,” Maddy said quietly.

Matthew smiled. “Your call. But when I turned the corner and saw you, I realized three things at the exact same time. You were there for me when you didn’t have to be, and I wanted to be able to do the same thing for you. Second, you’re who I wanted to come home to. And last,” he gathered his thoughts, “I realized if I never saw another girl in my jersey for the rest of my life, that would be fine with me.”

“I think I knew when you introduced me to your family, when you flew me down for the All-Star break?” He nodded in recognition. “Just seeing you with them, how much you love your parents and adore Taryn. You even managed to not chirp Brady for a whole dinner.”

“My mom threatened me.”

Madison laughed. “Even so. It just gave me a whole new side to you. I had seen you with your friends, and with the boys, and with me, but it wasn’t the same. How deeply you cared about making sure I fit in with them, and had fun, and felt included. It was the last piece of the puzzle, really.” Her hand rested on the center console after she downshifted.

“So, are we going to do this? Do you want to do this, Mads?” Matty asked, wrapping his fingertips gently around her free hand.

Flipping her hand around, she interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m all in if you are.”

Matthew bent down, kissing their hands. “I’ve been all in since the moment I met you.” He glanced behind him to the backseat, where Elias and Rasmus were still fast asleep. “What do you think they’re going to say when they wake up?”

“I’m not sure,” Madison said, laughing. “Probably tell us it’s about time. Pass me my phone, will you?” Matthew pulled out her phone from where it was charging on the passenger side.

“What do you need to look up?” he asked curiously as she pulled off of the freeway and into a gas station; the directions were already programmed into the car’s navigation system.

Maddy gave a coy smile, gently putting the car into park. “I’ve got to text the girl’s chat, tell them they’ve got to make me a jacket. They’re going to go wild.”

Day 4

The chat did go wild, even more so after she sent a picture of her kissing Matty’s cheek. After about a half-dozen “we called its” and a promise for her jacket to be ready by the first home game of the series, she turned her phone off, leaning over to ruffle Matthew’s hair; he had taken over driving sometime around four o’clock. “I like that I can just do this now,” she mused, playing with his curls as they crossed the border into Arizona.

“Please, no PDA in front of the children,” he said playfully, gesturing to the backseat. Elias flipped him off.

The entrance to the Grand Canyon was only an hour past the state line, and there were more than a few cafés to grab a quick breakfast at. Most of the day was spent walking around the vast expanse of the park, marvelling at its natural grandeur, and taking more than a few incredibly aesthetically pleasing Instagram pictures. A few minutes before they had to pack up and leave for the last leg of the drive, they had hiked over to the South Rim.

Matty leaned on the barriers overlooking the canyon. “It’s so big.”

Rasmus snickered from behind them. “Duh, Tkachuk. That’s why they call it grand.”

He ducked his head, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, obviously. But it’s just kind of surreal, you know?” Madison nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and if either of them had turned around they would have seen Rasmus and Elias sharing a very “I-told-you-so” look. “Kind of reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things.”

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were pulling into Las Vegas, Rasmus steering the car into the underground lot of the team hotel. None of the boys were expected at practice until the next morning, and they had decided before leaving that the easiest thing to do would just be to book the rooms for the one night.

“Anyone feeling up to going out?” Maddy asked as they walked down the hallway to their adjoining rooms. “I found a tiki bar a couple blocks away, great Yelp reviews.”

“Sounds good,” Rasmus said. Elias nodded.

“I’m in,” Matthew added, unlocking the door. “Meet out here in ten?”

The break allowed Madison to get a much-needed change of clothes while Matthew hopped in for a quick shower, emerging in a T-shirt and very, very nice-looking pair of black jeans. Maddy bit her lip, looking him up and down. “You like what you see?” Matthew asked, expression cocky.

She shrugged. “I don’t have to hide it now.” Madison slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over the lounge chair. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, poking his head out the door. “Boys are already out.”

The walk to the bar couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like twenty in the best way possible. She was holding hands with Matty, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand, the twinkling lights of dozens of Vegas casinos in their view. Two and a half mai tais and an hour later, the group sat at a table in the corner as Maddy giggled, retelling a particularly embarrassing moment on her high school volleyball team when she tried to make a dive that instead ended up with a ten minute pause in gameplay and the worst nosebleed of her life. She finished the story to raucous laughter, leaning into Matthew’s side. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What is it, Matty?” she asked, pulling away to look at him.

Eyes soft, he tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear before speaking. “Just thanking God I invited you on the trip. And for the Idaho Potato Museum.”

Madison laughed, the sound like music as it reached his ears. “We should write them. Thank them for helping to get us together. Maybe they’d give us season tickets.”

“Who needs season tickets when I have you?” Matty chuckled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Sure, Madison was a few drinks in when she kissed him. And sure, it wasn’t like Matty was exactly sober either. But this kiss was different. This kiss was the start of everything.

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #matthew tkachuk #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #rat king

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babybluebex · 4 years

Text

dear gideon [spencer reid]

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader (y/n)

summary: after spencer’s torture, y/n has a lot to figure out about her and her baby’s life.

word count: 2600+

warnings: season 2 reid (with a little season 5 at the end), mentions of torture, too much cute Baby Reid content

a/n: this is the last part to my new beginnings series! thank you all for joining me on this journey, and i appreciate every single one of you!

I cried for so long that I fell asleep on the couch in Gideon’s office. When I finally woke up, it was by being shaken awake. My eyes fluttered open and I saw JJ in front of me. Her makeup was smudged under her eyes, and my heart dropped. “What happened?” I croaked, my voice rough and broken. “Is he okay?”

JJ sniffled. “He was drugged several more times,” she whispered. “And he went into a seizure and… And cardiac arrest. We’re not sure, but we think he died--”

I hung my head. I knew it. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew it to be true. Spencer fit the vic profile for whoever this murderer was and, the moment he fell into his clutches, I knew he was done for. My husband, my best friend…

“--For a little bit. But Tobias was able to resuscitate him.”

I gasped. “H-He’s alive?” I whimpered out.

“He’s in the hospital,” JJ told me. “He’s got some cuts and bruises and everything, but he’ll be okay.”

My fingernails dug into my palms as I struggled to breathe, and I whispered, “I wanna see him.”

“Sweetheart, you really don’t--” JJ began.

“Please,” I sighed. “I need to see for myself that he’s okay.”

JJ nodded slowly. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“And… them?” JJ asked, and I knew who she was talking about.

My hand went to my stomach, and I carefully rubbed it. I might have been assuring myself that the baby was still there, because everything else in my life at the moment was so far from normal. “Fine,” I said softly. “They’re fine.”

The car was quiet as we went to the Marine base hospital, where Spencer was put up. Morgan joined us, as intent on making sure that Spencer was alright as I was, and I carefully took his hand. “Thanks,” I whispered.

“For what?” Morgan asked.

“You made fun of Spencer when he said that he wanted someone in the room with him,” I said. “On the jet. It made him want to pursue it-- pursue me-- more. All of this is because of you.”

“Aw, I was just razzing the kid,” Morgan sighed. “I didn’t think it would ever go this far.”

“I’m thankful,” I told him. “I wasn’t happy for a long time, and Spence helped me with that. He’s changed my life, and for the better.”

Morgan nodded, and he said, “Do we know the gender?”

“I do,” I said. “But Spencer didn’t want to know, so I haven’t been telling anybody.”

“Can you tell me?” Morgan asked. “The kid has gotta have a relationship with their uncle, right?”

I laughed for the first time. Morgan had a way of cheering me up, no matter what. “Well,” I began. “We had agreed on names for each, and…” I took Morgan’s hand and laid it on my stomach, and I said, “Say hi to Gideon Reid.”

Morgan’s face lit up, and a smile grew across his face. “His name’s Gideon?” he asked. I nodded, and Morgan smiled even wider. “Does our Gideon know yet?”

“I haven’t told him,” I said. “You’re the first.”

“Hey, man,” Morgan said softly to my stomach. “How’re you doing?”

I laughed again, and I put my hand on top of Morgan’s. “Of course, I didn’t tell you this,” I began. “But Spence wanted to ask you to be his godfather.”

“Oh, God, Spence,” Morgan said. “I’d be honored.”

We arrived at the hospital soon after, and Morgan squeezed my hand reassuringly. Elle and Gideon were already sitting in the waiting room, and Gideon gestured for me to move closer. “He’s fine,” he told me. “A little confused, but he’s still all with us.”

I nodded. “Can I see him?” I asked.

“He’s been asking for you since he woke up,” Gideon said.

“Umm, Gideon?” I began. “I wanted to tell you that, umm… We’re having a boy, and we’re naming him Gideon.”

Jason Gideon rarely smiled, but he gave me that warm grin. “That’s an honor, Mrs. Reid,” he told me. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” I said quickly. “You affected both of us in such a big way, and I can never, ever thank you enough.”

Gideon led me to the room that my husband was in, and he carefully creaked the door open. Spencer was sat up in bed, wearing a paper gown with bandages over his arms and a patch of gauze over his bottom lip. He was absently looking out the window, his fingers playing with each other as he thought. “Dr. Reid,” Gideon said. “You have a visitor.”

Spencer turned to look at me, and he said, “Y/N.” He stretched an arm out for me, and my tears came again at the sight of him. I moved to his bedside and quickly hugged him, and he hugged me back with a weak grip. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Me?” I exclaimed. “Spence, you--”

“I know, my love,” Spencer said gently. “But I was never worried about myself. I didn’t know if he had gotten to you two or not, and… The thought of that hurt far more than anything he did to me.”

“That’s not true,” I chuckled lightly.

“Well,” Spencer began with a weak laugh. “Not entirely. Some of his actions didn’t feel too good, but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“Spence,” I said softly. “I know you said that you didn’t want to know, but… I feel like, the circumstances being what they are, you should know.” I took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his hand with my thumb. “We’re having a boy, Spencer.”

Spencer’s brain was one of the most advanced in the world. He could tear through a handful of books within a day, he could do dizzying math problems in his head, and he could remember everything he’s ever read. It wasn’t often that Dr. Spencer Reid’s brain didn’t work right, but I saw the sparks and grinding gears in his head at that moment. His mouth opened, then closed, floundering for words, and he finally said, “A boy?”

I laughed softly. “Yes,” I whispered. “A boy, Spencer.”

“A boy,” Spencer repeated. “A boy. A boy!” He laughed and took my face in his hands, and he kissed my forehead. “We’re having a boy!”

His excitement was far better than any reaction I could have hoped for. “I asked Morgan to be his godfather,” I said. “I know you mentioned that was something you wanted--”

“What did he say?” Spencer asked quickly.

“He said yes,” I told him. “He said he would be honored.”

Spencer smiled widely. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “And we’re still going with the name we thought of… Gideon?”

“If you’re still okay with it,” I said. “I think Gideon Reid has a nice ring to it.”

Spencer nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Just… Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” I told him.

“No, there’s everything to thank you for,” Spencer said. “That sentence doesn’t make much sense, but I do need to thank you. Before I met you, I never thought I’d be the type to get married, to have children, to have the life I do now. You showed me that I could have that, and that I’m worthy of that. I’m a husband now, and I’m a dad, and that’s something that I had always wished for. Thank you, my love.”

THREE YEARS LATER

“Daddy,” Giddy said. “I don’ wanna go.”

“I know, man,” Spencer said. He ruffled up Giddy’s frizzy hair, a trait that he had inherited, and Spencer added, “But school’s a lot of fun. You’ll make a lot of friends and learn all of this cool stuff, I promise you’ll like it.”

“And if I don’t?” Giddy asked.

“You will,” Spencer said with a nod.

“But if I don’t?” Giddy said.

“Gideon, my love, please,” I said. “I know you’ll like it.”

“Do they have books on dinosaurs?” Giddy asked. His eyes were wide up at Spencer, who chuckled at him. Giddy had always had a special connection with Spencer; the fact that they looked exactly alike didn’t help to quell that. Giddy didn’t just inherit Spencer’s looks, though; he was as smart as his daddy. “Maybe smarter,” Spencer would joke. He could already remember everything he read and most of what he heard, and he was flying through chapter books like I had never seen. Currently, Gideon Aaron Reid was convinced that he would be a paleontologist, and he consumed books about dinosaurs by the bookshelf.

“Probably not what you’re used to,” I began. “But they might have some books with pictures of dinosaurs. But fourth grade doesn’t usually have picture books.”

“That’s okay,” Giddy said.

We had gotten special permission to walk Giddy to his first day of fourth grade. He had sped through the first three years of elementary school within a year, with kindergarten taking maybe two months for him to excel, and, at this rate, he was on track to be the youngest high school graduate at eleven years old. Giddy held my hand as Spencer walked alongside us, his cane hitting the tiles with every step, and, even though my baby was smart, he was absolute shit at hiding his feelings. I knew that he was scared, and I stopped walking in favor of kneeling down in front of him.

“Giddy, baby,” I said softly. “I know this is really scary, but I promise that you’ll be just fine. Just be yourself and I know that you’ll do great.”

“What if people don’t like me?” Giddy asked with a small whimper. His hazel eyes were watery, and it broke my heart.

“Are you kidding?” Spencer asked. He struggled to get to the floor with his wounded knee but, once he was settled, he pushed Giddy’s long hair behind his shoulder. “Who wouldn’t like you? You’re funny and you’re one heck of a dancer, and you’re just an awesome person all around.”

“But…” Giddy started. “I’m so… Different.”

“That’s not always a bad thing, baby,” I said. “Your daddy’s different too. And me, and Uncle Derek, and Aunt JJ and Henry, we’re all different. But you still like and love all of us, right?”

Giddy nodded. He sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hand, and I opened my arms for him. He came to me instantly and buried his face in my chest, and I rubbed his back. “Ya know something, baby?” I asked. “I knew you were going to be different as soon as I met you. You were born, and you cried for a little bit, but you stopped. Almost like you realized how irrational it was. I knew that you were going to be the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met, and you’ve proved that to me every single day of your life. So what if you can read a little better than everyone else? That’s what makes you you.”

Giddy sniffled again, and he sucked at his thumb. “Gideon,” Spencer said softly. “What does your name mean?”

“Strong warrior,” Giddy said softly.

“And Aaron?”

“Enlightened,” Gideon said.

“What does that mean?” Spencer asked.

Gideon hiccuped. “Smart,” he whispered.

“Strong and smart,” Spencer said. “We wouldn’t have given you that name if we didn’t think that you could live up to it. Alright? You belong here as much as every other kid does. They’ll like you. I swear.”

“You promise?” Giddy asked.

“I do,” Spencer said, and he hooked Giddy’s small pinkie with his. “C’mon, let’s get going,” he said. “We don’t wanna be late.” I helped Spencer stand back up, and Giddy attached himself to Spencer’s pant leg as we finished our walk to his classroom. The door was ajar, quiet childlike chattering emanating from inside, and I carefully knocked before opening the door.

“Hi there,” I said. “I’m Y/N Reid, Gideon Reid’s mother.”

“Oh, yes!” the teacher exclaimed excitedly. “Class, we have a very special student joining us today! Gideon is three years old and he’ll be joining us for a few weeks!”

The nine year olds in the room were obviously confused, and I urged Giddy into the room. Spencer followed and lingered in the doorway, and I watched my baby march himself up to the front of the classroom. He looked like any normal three year old-- messy hair, wrinkled shirt, mismatched socks-- but when he spoke, he was wise beyond his years. “Hi,” he announced. “My name is Gideon Aaron Reid. I am three years old, and I like dinosaurs and chocolate milk.” Well, maybe he still was a normal three year old underneath the eidetic memory.

The teacher pulled me and Spencer out into the hall as Giddy continued to introduce himself, and she said, “He’s… Small.”

“Yes,” Spencer said. “He is three, after all.”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know names,” the teacher said.

“Oh,” Spencer said. He quickly switched hands to hold his cane, and he offered her his hand to shake. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N Reid.”

“A doctor,” the teacher said. “That explains a lot.”

“Well, I hold three doctorates,” Spencer began. “Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering, and BAs in psychology, sociology, and philosophy.”

“Yes, it’s because of him that Giddy is the way he is,” I chuckled. “He inherited Spencer’s eidetic memory, proving that eidetic memory was both real and genetically related. But, umm… Giddy was born a few weeks early, so he is smaller than most three year olds.”

“Wow,” the teacher said.

“No, I know, it’s a lot,” I laughed. “Most teachers don’t want to take him because they find he’s too much of a challenge. This means a lot to all of us.”

“No, no, I like a challenge,” the teacher said. “Now, I read somewhere that you work for the FBI, Dr. Reid?”

“We both do,” Spencer said. “In the Behavioral Analysis Unit. It’s actually how we met. And that also explains this whole thing.” Spencer motioned to the cane, and he sheepishly said, “I was out in the field and got a little banged up. Nothing modern medicine can’t fix.”

“That’s good,” the teacher said. “I think Gideon will do just fine here.”

“I think so too,” I said. “Um, can I have one last goodbye? This is hard for me.”

“I understand, sweetheart,” the teacher told me. “Let me get him.”

As she went back inside to retrieve Giddy, Spencer put his arm around my waist. “I’m so proud of him,” Spencer said. “I never thought I could love someone so much.”

“I hope you have room for one more,” I said softly.

“Huh?”

I smiled at my husband. “Spence,” I whispered. “I’m pregnant again.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he said, “Wow. Really?”

“Please react better than last time,” I said quickly, and Spencer laughed.

“Of course I will,” Spencer said. “Another baby? God! This is exciting!” He hugged me as best as he could with the cane, and I laughed when he kissed my cheek. “God, I love you so much.”

Giddy came bouncing out of the room, and I bent down to hug him again. “Have a good day, bug,” I whispered. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

“I love you, Mommy,” Giddy said and gave me a quick kiss. “And you too, Daddy.”

“I hope to hear all about your day,” Spencer said. “Think of one thing I don’t know that you can tell me when I get home tonight.”

“Daddy,” Giddy whined. “You know everything.”

“I know a lot less than you think I do,” Spencer said. “Give me a kiss, man, you gotta go to class.” Spencer bent at the waist to reach Giddy, and the little boy kissed his father’s cheek. “You blow me away, Gideon,” Spencer said softly.

“Bye, Daddy,” Giddy said, turning to go back to class. “Bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, baby,” I said and blew him a kiss. The door slowly closed behind him, and I choked back a sob. “I love you, Gideon Reid.”

#mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid #reid #criminal minds #raymond #southern gothic #paul #500 days of summer #68 kill #lesley smith-judiment #hot air #american actor #fanficiton #mine #chip taylor

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itsonlystrange · 3 years

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STRANGER THINGS THEORIZERS/ANALYIZERS, ANSWER THIS QUESTION PLEASE!

How do you think season four will end? There’s talk of a “middle of the action” cliff hanger, having season five pick up directly after episode five with no break in between. I don’t see how that would happen as usually the end of the season has a “final battle”, and I don’t see how a season could pick up directly off of that and then immediately go back into the action for season five.

Usually with ST, the first 2-3 episodes are relatively uneventful. It’s usually one or two characters that are on to the mystery, and there really isn’t a major event until episode four.

Examples being:

Season 1: End of e3, Will’s “body” was found.

Season 2: end of e3, Will gets possessed

Season 3: end of e3, Will realizes the Mind Flayer is back.

So, there’s a pattern here. You get regular domestic, school, normal related stuff in the beginning, until the end of episode three/ episode four, where revalations are made.

So, with this theoretical “middle of the action, end of season cliff hanger”, it would be confusing as to where it could pick up, and how?

Usually with st we get three acts. The first being the relatively normal start of the season. Only one or two characters are on to something. The second act is in the middle of the season, where most characters are preparing to confront the main issue of the season. This is where discoveries are. Then the third act is where they finally confront that main issue. Then there’s a 1-3 month time jump where things are back to normal.

But for this theoretical season five ending, that wouldn’t happen. There’d be an ambiguous ending, maybe one where everyone is hanging on for dear life, and then credits. And then season five picks up right there. Which would just totally destroy the construct the writers have created for their seasons. Not only for act three of season four, but for all of season five.

There would be no “calm before the storm” or an ‘act one’ if we just pick up in the middle of the action again. It would mean that season five is essentially just a part two to season four, which I don’t see working out well for stranger things. They have a layout that they’ve used, and I feel like doing something this spontaneous, especially for the end of the show, right now, seems off. The final season of any show is undoubtedly one of the most important. It doesn’t matter if the first or middle seasons were fantastic or bland, if the final season doesn’t do better and doesn’t end with a WHAM, then the show will go down in history that way. The final season determines how a show is remembered, how the critics remember it, and doing something like this for a show as big as stranger things this late in the game seems risky, not to say they wouldn’t do it. Because if they did, it would mean they had had this planned for awhile.

I’d also like to add that I am not opposed to this idea! we don’t know how it will end which is the exciting part! This is all speculation. I think that they would 100% be able to tell a compelling story while not following the format they have previously. However, it is definitely something the writers would have to be cautious of. Especially since ST seems to take big gaps in between seasons, having season five pick up directly after season four, while in real life we’ve waited a good 12-18 months, it would definitely leave some fans feeling disconnected. Especially because a lot of fan favorite moments are those “calm before the storm” montages or episodes. Hell, the shopping mall scene from season three was so well done and almost every fan I know enjoyed it. So having it pick up in the middle of the act could potentially be jeoprodizing that, and also potentially losing character development. A lot of times in tv shows (not necessarily in stranger things, but sometimes it has happened!) a character will be so caught up In the drama or the main event of the season that they will lose their character development. Season two of ST did it best, season 3 did it worst. In season 2 (and one!) they were able to keep that compelling drama and the main supernatural events but also keep the characters developing even in the last episodes, rather than have the drama fill up the whole episode and the characters own thoughts to the point where a majority of that characters personality for the end of the season solely revolves around the drama. But in seasons one and two, they were able to have characters develop, and do better, and progress, even while the major cinematic events were happening. However In season three, we got a lack of character growth, especially in those final episodes where character growth had previously been so prevalent. Don’t get me wrong, characters DID develop, but for a season that’s tag line was “one summer can change everything.” not much changed- character wise. Sure, plot lines came and go, new ones were introduced, but the characters stayed relatively the same. No revelations were made. For example: Will had a plot line that was just utterly dropped. They spent so long building that dramatic sequence up and his fight with Mike and the destruction of castle byers and then they just left it. Which, I understand, was done of purpose. They obviously left those lose ends untied up for season four. Or how about El: she got a scene which supposedly was supposed to prove how she was independent and didn’t need mike (because she totally doesn’t and is a baddie!) but then in the end crawls right back to him, despite obviously not caring about their break up previously and seeming much happier without him. Lucas didn’t progress at all. Mike stayed the same, except he realized he totally didn’t like El at the end of season 3. But other than that, Mike didn’t change much. He didn’t get any scenes where he realized “oh! I was such a jerk!” He just CONTINUED to be that way. Max didn’t progress too much. I was hoping she would open up or allow herself to be vulnerable, or maybe she could realize why she is so harsh sometimes, other things that would have made for a great arc. Dustin didn’t change much, he just got smarter, I guess? And so on so forth. Everyone is relatively the same. We never really see Nancy and Jon resolve the fight, besides the elevator scene. When they BOTH had great points in that fight and I agree that they should both work on those issues. And the only thing that really changed was the Byers moving and Hopper ‘dying.’

Now, I may be going off the rails here, sorry. But my point is: we KNOW they can do great character development while also keeping that science fiction action and mystery we love. But we also know they can butcher it and not even realize !

There are definitely pros and cons of doing this cliffhanger thing. Of course, nobody really knows what will happen. We still have to factor in new characters, or if these new characters will even be apart of season five at all. We could be left with sort of a half middle of the action cliff hanger, similar to season one or two, where the audience knows that mr mind flayer is back, but the characters don’t. Maybe we won’t even get a month time skip, and maybe we’ll get only a few days! Maybe season five will only pick up one month after season four, instead of 6 months to a year! We genuinely don’t know!

Season three was the weakest, but it wasn’t bad. They showed their diversity, and that they could switch things up if needed. All I hope for is good character growth at this point. And if too much action jeoprodizes the character growth (like season three!) then I don’t want it! But I know it’s totally possible to have both. They did it twice, they can do it again! I have high hopes for season four and it’s ending. And in no way am I against the idea of us kinda getting a shot and fire cliffhanger ending that bleeds into season 5.

Anyways, I doubt this will happen. I feel like they will follow the format they usually use. Give us a time jump in the last 20 minutes of season four, everything seems fine, season five picks up a couple months later, everything’s fine for a few episodes, WHAM! Action, ending, epilogue, roll credits. Not to say I wouldn’t enjoy a ‘middle of the action’ ending cliffhanger or whatever, I probably would! (Hoping they are able to balance it out this time instead of jumbling all the ‘growth’ into the first and last bits of the season.) This is not meant to say that I would dislike something like this. In fact, other shows have done something similar and I enjoyed them even more then a regularl time skip! I’m doing my best to show both sides of the argument here. I know a lot of people have their own opinions on this topic.

I’ll enjoy whatever they do, but I’d like to hear your opinions on this! How do you think season four will end?

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #mike wheeler #will byers

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leafs-lover · 4 years

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Because Two People Got Drunk: 9

Series Masterlist

A/N: I linked the outfit in case you’re interested.

Summary: Fred has a game in Toronto so he visits as your due date arrives. You get to meet some of his former teammates and make a decision on your future,

Warnings: Smut, swearing, soft Freddie, oral sex

Word Count: 2,985

November 3, 2021

Fred left shortly after breakfast that day. You have sent some messages back and forth and exchanged phone calls once sometimes twice a week. Neither of you have discussed what you thought happened in Denmark, making you think you imagined it.

He hasn’t brought back up the idea of you moving to Pittsburgh after the baby is born. It would be easier, and during road trips you could fly back to Toronto if you wanted to see friends/family. It would be good for both Fred and your son to have that time early on to bond. But if you do, how long will you go? What if he meets someone and wants to take her on a date, hearing he lives with the woman he got pregnant might be a hard thing for someone to understand. If the situation was reversed you wouldn’t go on a date knowing that, it’s a complicated situation.

And even if you do go there for the entire leave which could be 18 months if you chose, what happens after that. You have a 1 ½ year old, he can’t fly alone. So you go back to Toronto and still have to constantly fly to Pittsburgh and back during the season. By going to Pittsburgh you aren’t solving any problems, just postponing them, and creating some new ones.

The season has started, and Pittsburgh is playing the Leafs on the 4th. Fred got permission to fly out the morning of the 3rd and miss the practice to spend time with you. You open the door, to see him in a dark peacoat, grey plaid scarf and toque. He steps in and takes his coat off, you see his tight and toned upper body in a light long sleeve shirt, your breath hitches.

“Wow you look amazing" he says placing his hand on your stomach. So do you, you think to yourself

“Really? You’re lying? I look like a whale. Everything is sore. My back, legs, feet. Oh my feet are so sore.”

He smiles and leans down putting his arms under your leg and behind your back, lifting you up as he walks to the couch.

“I’m not lying you look amazing” he says setting you down gently and begins rubbing your feet. “Ohhh" you moan, Fred's eye brow lifts.

“You don’t see me for 2 months, I hardly touch you and basically have you coming undone.”

“Pregnancy makes my sex drive crazy, but it also makes everything sensitive. Told you it’s like everything is heightened, all the time.”

“I think I’m just that good.”

You laugh as he keeps massaging your feet, applying light pressure to the ball of your feet. “So how are you, apart from sore, how are you actually doing?”

“Unbelievably stressed. I don’t think I’m close to ready for him, I don’t have any furniture at the other apartment, the movers are coming soon. And I’m due in 14 days so I’m stressed. And there is just questions of the future, having a baby with someone who lives in a different country isn’t the most ideal. How are you doing?”

“I mean I’m stressed too, a lot going on, a lot to think about. New team and expectations is stressful enough. But I have something planned for today that I think will help both of us.” He grabs your hand and you head down the elevator. He leads you to a rental car, opening the door and helping you in.

He pulls up to a spa and you look at him. “You have mentioned being sore a few times on the phone, so I thought a pregnancy massage could help. So I booked us a couple massage.”

“Wow that’s amazing Fred, thanks “

You walk in the door and they lead you to a private change room. You strip down completely except your panties and place the plush white robe on your body. When you’re done you open the door and enter the treatment room, where Fred is already sitting on his table in his boxers, his robe hanging on a hook. He walks over to you, taking your robe and hanging it beside his. You turn around to head to the bed and his hand reaches out to touch your stomach, he begins stroking it his thumb grazing your nipple sending a sensation down to your core.

“You look stunning, pregnancy suits you” he leans down to kiss your cheek. A smile comes across your face as he takes his hand off and helps you into the table before walking over to his table. You watch him as he walks over to his table, his boxers are tight on his ass, resting part way up his large thighs. You feel wetness pool staring at his muscular back while he climbs into the bed.

You both get a 90 min massage, and it was exactly what you needed, with you dozing off for part of it.

You return back to your apartment when Fred speaks up. “So some of the guys on the Leafs invited me for dinner, was wondering if you wanted to come. They are super nice, and have a chef coming to make dinner.”

You are hesitant not wanting to impose, but Fred convinces you to meet his friends. You shower and stare into your closet. You have some nice outfits, but most of your maternity wear consisted of leggings and sweater dresses. Your clothes mostly focussed around comfort and warmth. You finally settle on a pair of maternity jeans, with a white long sleeve shirt. You complete the look with some beige booties and a plaid wrap. You and Fred arrive at Fred’s old apartment building, your soon to be new apartment building. This time he leads you to the 41st floor. The door opens and Auston Matthews is on the other side, the two briefly hug before Fred is practically knocked over by a bernadoodle. “Hey I’m (Y/N)” you say as you step in.

“I’m Auston, this is Mitch and his girlfriend Steph he says pointing to them. And that guy is Felix.” You reach down to pet Felix as he weaves around your legs wagging his tail. Dinner with them flowed easily, you were originally nervous but quickly realized you had no reason to be. After dinner the chef has left and you are all sitting at the table talking.

“So are you scared to become a dad Fred?” Steph asks.

He looks at you briefly before responding “No, not really.”

Silence falls briefly as you stare at him. “Are you serious? You’re not nervous? I’m absolutely terrified to become a mom.”

Everyone stares at you for a second.

“Oh thank God” Fred responds. “You seem so confident and together with everything. I thought you wanted to hear I was too. So I lied. I’m scared shitless” everyone laughs.

“What scares you the most?” Mitch asks.

“Well I think every first time parent has the same fears and concerns am I going to be a good parent, am I going to make mistakes blah blah blah . I think most of those fears get erased in the first month or so of being a parent. But I think my biggest fear is not handling this thing in the best way" he looks to you “the co-parenting with someone in a different country” he finishes.

“It’s a unique situation with him leaving for Pittsburgh and me living in Toronto. Like I don’t know what is the best decision for our son. Like stability and routines are all so important for babies. But that’s hard when each parent is in a different country” you add.

“Have you given much thought into what you will do once he comes?” Mitch asks.

“Yeah I’ve been thinking about it non-stop. I’ve been considering spending part of my mat leave in Pittsburgh. That way when he is playing at home they can have that time together. But I worry about what to do after my mat leave. It’s just delaying everything. Like are we better off trying to create some kind of a travel routine now and stick to it after I return to work. And in the beginning I’ll be breast feeding so I’ll need to be around but once I’m able to pump enough I don’t need to be and can give him some time alone to bond with him. But what do I do, fly there drop him off and leave? Stay in a Pittsburgh hotel alone, I know nobody there. And also travelling with a baby doesn’t sound exciting at all. So it’s just a lot to consider and lots of options. And I just don’t know what’s best. I don’t want him to resent me down the line because I made a bad choice. It’s hard"

Silence falls over the room “sorry” you say realizing you rambled for a while.

“Yeah it’s a lot you are dealing with. I can’t imagine" Steph finally says. Fred puts a hand on your leg squeezing lightly “we’ll figure it out” a soft smile on his face.

Later that night you are at your place getting ready for bed. After brushing your teeth you crawl in next to Fred. His hand falls to your stomach as he shifts to put his head just above your stomach as he starts talking to your baby, you run your hand gently through his hair.

“Hey baby boy, I can’t wait to meet you. It would be really awesome if you came tonight or tomorrow while Daddy is here in town” he kisses your stomach. “I just want you to know that things might be a little crazy sometimes, and because I live so far away I might not get to see you all the time, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you or I’m not thinking about you.” You zone out as you feel tears beginning to rise, you focus on breathing trying to supress them as he continues talking to your stomach.

“Goodnight baby boy” he says rubbing your belly before kissing it. He crawls up behind you, his hand still resting on your stomach.

You drift off, waking up in the morning and realize you slept straight through. Fred’s arm thrown across you, holding you close, you can faintly smell his cologne. “Wow I haven’t slept for 8 hours in a long time. This guy doesn’t normally let me” you say groggily.

“He doesn’t’?”

“No he is normally up all night, kicking and moving, he’s a night owl. Since you got here he has been much calmer. It’s like he knows his dad is here and is on his best behaviour.” Fred laughs, rubbing your stomach and leans down lower “you are supposed to behave for mom, we’ve talked about this.” He places a kiss on your stomach, a light moan leaves your lips as he crawls back up behind you.

You lay there silently, him stroking your stomach, placing soft kisses in your hair. His eyes get heavy as you whisper “Fred?”

“Mm, what is it dear?” he questions weakly.

“I don’t think I can do this” you say with tears in your eyes. His hand stops as he rolls you onto your back slightly, looking at your face. Concern washes over him.

“Do what? Be a parent? Seems like you could have made that decision months ago. Kind of late to make that choice don’t you think. How can you even think about leaving him?"

“Noo, no no no, not that!” you cut him off quickly. “I don’t think I can do this without you. I just, I..I uh… I don’t want to do this without you around every day. I need you, we need you.” You look up at him and continue “I want to come to Pittsburgh after he is born and stay with you for my mat leave. I will tell my company I am taking the 18 month leave, and I’ll come down. We both need you around. I was thinking I could stay with you at first and when he is 3 or 4 months then get an apartment and we can do the split custody thing around your schedule.”

“Just stay for the whole thing, I have 3 bedrooms.”

“Yeah one for him and the other should be for guests, like your family. Besides it could be weird if you are on date and have to tell the girl your baby momma lives with you"

“Well I haven’t talked to them much since Denmark, after you left things got a little intense with them. I’m not ready to talk to them. Also I don’t see myself going on many dates as a professional athlete with a newborn, but if she had a problem with it she isn’t the one for me. How about we see how it plays out, and if it’s working you stay the whole time. If it isn’t we’ll find you a place.”

He doesn’t let you respond leaning in and kissing you passionately causing you to moan lightly. He takes a finger down into your pyjamas, and strokes over your folds. He slides it in you and begins gently thrusting “oh my god" you scream breaking the kiss.

His mouth returns to nibble on your ear alternating with placing kisses on your neck. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything, and your body is heightened and extra sensitive. He slides down your body, placing a pillow in his spot. He pulls your pyjama bottoms off and begins licking up your folds, he uses his fingers to create a scissor and open you up as he sucks lightly on your clit.

“This okay?” he asks.

A soft moan leaves your lips in response, “good. You taste so good” he says as he dives in further, his nose brushing against you. He increases the pace, slipping his tongue into the mix, his fingers curling inside you. He sucks on your bud his fingers pumping in and out of you.

You feel your orgasm approaching as you squirm, your hips lifting. You grip the bedsheets, your toes curling as Fred continues pumping. He sucks hard on your bud causing an intense orgasm to crash over you. You lay there as his pace slows but he doesn’t stop. He finally pulls out his fingers and wipes his hands on your bed. He removes the pillow replacing it with his body, your head falls back onto his shoulder and he leans in to kiss you. Your juices still fresh on his lips, he pulls away slightly but still close enough for his beard to tickle you.

“So, I bought a book on sex positions for pregnant women” he whipsers.

You laugh “oh really?”

“Yeah… I mean I wanted to make sure you had a good time obviously, but also that you are comfortable. I know this” he rubs your stomach “can make you uncomfortable and can make certain positions not as enjoyable. We tried a few out before leaving. There is still a few we can do if you are up to it.”

“Yes. I’m definitely up for it”

“You sure? I don’t want you to be too uncomfortable.”

“I won’t be! I have wanted to do this since I opened the door yesterday. Then I saw you in your boxers at the massage; I almost jumped you then.” He leans his head back laughing. You continue “besides some people believe sex this close can help kick start labour, and others believe it can help with pain during labour. Make it easier to push a baby out if you aren’t so…tight.”

A grin crosses his face as he pulls his pants off and pumps himself a few times.

As he is lining himself up you question “do we need a condom?” He looks at you questioningly “I don’t know if you met someone in Pittsburgh… you’ve been gone for a bit.”

“Just you babe, just you.” With that he pushes in gently as you lean your head back onto his shoulder.

You’re lying on your left side and he slightly bends your right knee, and places a pillow under your stomach.

“Good babe?”

“Fred fuck. I need you.” he pulls out and pushes in fully “bad" you practically screaming the last word.

Fred keeps pulling out and pushing back in but at a slow pace. You know at this pace it will take a while for you to reach your high, but he doesn’t want to push you too hard. He pulls out and as he is pushing back in you force yourself back bottoming out “faster.”

Fred reaches around you placing a hand on your clit and begins playing with it. He keeps pulling out and pushing back in but his pace is starting to quicken, you groan “yes.” He leans forward and kisses your shoulder. You feel yourself getting very close as Fred’s hand continues to apply pressure on your clitoris. You grind back on him searching for your high. Fred continues his pace, you feel him becoming sloppy behind you as you become undone gripping the bed sheet as your pussy clenches around him.

He bites your shoulder as you feel his warmth fill you up. He lays there still inside you for a few minutes as you both catch your breath. A hand comes to your chin and turns you to look at him, engaging you in a soft but passionate kiss. He eventually pulls out and wanders to the bathroom starting the shower. He carries you into the shower, helping to rinse you off.

Outfit

Next Chapter

#Freddie Andersen #Frederik Andersen #Freddie Andersen Smut #Frederik Andersen Smut #Freddie Andersen Fic #Frederik Andersen Fic #Auston Matthews #NHL Smut #NHL Fic #freddie andersen x reader #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #fred andersen #fredzilla #because two people got drunk #my writing

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puckngrind · 4 years

Text

What’s In A Name: 7 - J. Toews

Chapter 7.

Where we left off: Jon and Bekah were on vacation in Sedona when discussions changed the tone of things.

Warnings: smut, language, mentions of fighting and injury

Word Count: 3,380

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Worlds.

Their worlds collided every single time they were together then life went on as normal. Jon ended up winning Gold at the World Cup of Hockey and the first call was to Bekah.

“I wish you were here for this.” He breathed out upon her answering. She could hear his teammates celebrating in the background.

“Congrats Tae!” Bekah felt guilt of saying no, even with her new passport’s arrival, flood her body in that moment. She had taken most of her vacation time off and his schedule for this tournament was tight. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.” She bit her lip as she remembers the conversation back in Sedona and could hear Jon’s smile through the phone. Their conversation was light then Jon was getting pulled away.

“I’ll see you in Columbus in a few weeks!” With that he was off. This was the second start of the season Bekah had been talking to Jon, so it was no surprise to her when she didn’t hear much from him during training camp. The team had a rough start and the fight Jon had on the ice against Nashville was proof. Bekah wasn’t sure what to think every time she would see him fight. It was barbaric but yet a turn on. Cursing her body as she sees him swinging at Neal on her screen knowing she wouldn’t see him for another week. She was never a hockey fan but her time at home working on her current project was usually done with Jon’s game as background noise. It became a habit and she didn’t hate it. Jon secretly relished in the fact that she watched his games.

The following week Jon was in Columbus. And just like every other time, the two spent all of his down time while in town in bed. Even with months between seeing each other, every time they were together it was as if no time was lost. Their bodies didn’t skip a beat when they would meet. The two had muscle memory for each other. Before Bekah left the next morning Jon pulls her tightly into his chest with a force that was soft but dominate.

“Can we talk about the holidays? Or you coming to Chicago for a weekend? Because, Beks, not seeing you for months and months absolutely kills me.” He admits.

“Like Christmas or Thanksgiving, Tae?” Bekah’s eyebrow and voice question Jon’s.

“Well my Thanksgiving was a few weeks ago.” Jon laughs.

“Oh right, Canadian.” Bekah retorts.

“I meant Christmas, Beks. I have a few days off and my family it coming to Chicago this year.” His fingers lift her chin up to look her in the eyes.

“Oh! Well. Uh...family?” Bekah feels the heat racing to her face.

“I love the way you blush just so you know.” His hand brushes her cheek. “Just think about it. They would love to see you again and of course, I want to see you.” Jon kisses her lips and leaves the conversation open for later.

Thanksgiving morning Bekah’s phone rings super early. She assumed it would be her mom double checking that Bekah had the pies covered for dinner which was really almost lunch. “Mom, I made the pies last night.” Her voice was groggy.

“Bekah, It’s Brynn. Jon got hurt last night. Have you talked to him?” Bekah rubbed her eyes and pulled the phone away from her head. An unknown number called her in the middle of the night and since she only had Jon’s number programmed to ring that late, she missed the call.

“Fuck. What? I... should... is he okay? What time is it in San Jose? Damnit. I didn’t watch because I was baking and fell asleep.” The realization of the unknown setting in.

“All I know is he didn’t come out for the 3rd period and Derek thinks it’s his back but maybe a concussion.” Brynn’s voice was ringing in Bekah’s ear. The two hung up and Bekah paced her bedroom floor then decided to text Jon given the time difference.

“Hey Beks.” She could hear the pain in his voice. He explained the injury told her he was day-to-day and suggested they talk to each other after her family’s holiday festivities. She didn’t know how to take it all in knowing he was across the country hurting. Then when Jon called again to tell her that he was headed back to Chicago and not with the team, Bekah booked a flight and took a cab to his place. She didn’t fully think it through as she leaned against his gate with a dead phone battery and no sign of Jon. She was contemplating walking towards the larger buildings of downtown or even campus when a SUV pulled up. She clutched her bag until Jon’s face was illuminated from the passenger seat and the Blackhawks symbol flashed in the street light as the door swung open.

“What are you doing here and why didn’t you tell me?” Jon tenderly steps out of the car and makes his way to her. Kissing her sweetly cupping her cold cheeks in his warm hands.

“I got worried and I have Monday off plus your voice Jon. Your voice when you told me you were headed back to Chicago said come.” The look of concern written across her face.

“I didn’t ask you to...” Jon’s face contorts knowing he wanted her there but didn’t want to pull her away from her family.

“I wanted to. Can we head in because it’s cold and I’ve been here awhile?” Jon nods and slowly makes his way inside with Bekah at his tail. His injury was bad enough to potentially sit out the next few games she knew it was killing him and she saw the frustration in the way he slept. Before heading to the airport Monday afternoon, Jon asked again about Christmas.

“Could I fly out Christmas evening?” She went to pull him in and stopped when she sees the grimace on his face. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Yeah, I think that will work. Plus we play a home game on the 27th if you stay that late. You could wear my sweater.” His wink was all she needed. The flight back Bekah took in the short trip and realized in the almost two years of knowing Jon this was the first time they didn’t have sex while in the same city. They made out while watching movies, cooked together, showered together, and slept snuggled into each other. Her focus was being there for him and his injury and less of the sex that seemed to drive most of their shorter trips. She snuggled up into her sweatshirt trying not to think about what that meant but how she could make sure her Christmas trip was work free.

Christmas came and Bekah was shocked how seamless and not out of place she felt with Jon’s family. Well that was until they spoke French which was frequently and Jon made an effort to switch to English when he noticed Bekah’s face all scrunched up trying to follow. Jon laughed hard when she admitted in bed that night that while she has not a fucking clue what they were saying but she was sure it was about her.

“Not usually Beks. Well some of it was about you.” Jon kisses her and she huffs out with his admission.

“It is damn sexy coming out of your mouth even if it’s frustrating not understanding you.” Bekah runs her finger over his lips and he sucks them into his mouth.

“c'est noté.” Jon whispers. “Noted.”

The next few days were filled with getting to know his family but Jon made sure to sneak out with just Bekah too. The two said their goodbyes with discussions of seeing each other soon then Bekah was back home and back to her routine of life in Columbus.

“See, told ya!” Brynn shouted as Bekah caught up with her friend over wine on New Years Eve. “Name it whatever you two want name it but friend, that all screams girlfriend. Christmas with his family. Romantic stroll in Chicago. Watching another game with the Toews family. G-i-r-l-f-r-i-e-n-d.” Brynn tips her glass towards Bekah.

“We are not doing this again.” Bekah pulls her knees into her chest.

“We aren’t doing this but who is blowing up your phone right now?” Brynn points to the newest text alert.

“Can we just watch the game?” Bekah picks up her phone and flicks a finger at the television.

“Sure your hot ass hockey man is just chilling in his St. Louis hotel room alone texting you while he waits to play in the Winter fucking Classic where we SHOULD be right now... BUT no. I’m sitting here desperate for a tiny glimpse of my husband on the screen because he’s in Minnesota for New Years.” Brynn’s annoyance that Bekah didn’t tell her about the Winter Classic invite until that night was audible in her exhale.

“Rin, I was just with him plus that game is outside, in January.” Bekah looks down at her phone again and shivers thinking of watching hockey outside.

“And you are telling me New Years sex with that man wouldn’t be mind blowing?” Brynn’s eyes flashed to Bekah. “And the Winter Classic outside is kinda the point.”

“Oh! I see Derek!” Bekah points at the screen attempting to distract her bestie.

“Nice try. We don’t have to talk about it for now. When are you seeing each other again?” Brynn chirped.

“I don’t know. He said something about All-Star break but definitely after the season.” Bekah runs her finger over the rim of her wine glass.

“All star break is like your anniversary. What 2 years now?” Counting from the 2015 game on her fingers.

“Cannot have an anniversary when you don’t have a relationship...” Bekah’s voice tapers off.

“For the love of all things, Bekah.” Brynn pokes at her bestie in frustration. “I keep adding to my original list just so you know. ‘Shit that makes this a relationship when the two of you won’t call it what it is’ a growing list by yours truly.” Brynn ticks off her fingers mentally adding to the list.

“Well, All-Star break. He wants me to come to LA. Some gala before the game. That equals fancy dress Rin. Your girl doesn’t have a fancy dress.” Bekah keeps her eyes on the game and only turns when she realizes Brynn hasn’t responded yet. Her mouth dropped open staring at Bekah. “You okay?” She questions.

“The man wants to take you to the NHL 100 Gala. As his date? We will find you a fancy ass dress Bekah.” Brynn squeals her best friend’s name.

“Is this a big thing?” Bekah feels the lump in her throat.

“Yes. I’m assuming he’s being named one of the top 100 NHL players of the century. It’s a big fucking deal.” Brynn tosses her hands up in the air to exaggerate her point.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t... hmmm.” Bekah eyes Jon’s latest text which have gone from innocent conversation to very much missing her in the course of a few hours.

“Oh you are going!” Brynn almost shouted. “You are definitely going. I’ll request off work FOR you. Here, I’ll do it right fucking now. Ask Jon how many days he plans on sexing you up in SoCal.” Brynn points her finger at the phone again.

“Rin. Did you just?” Bekah just looks at her and back at Jon’s text about FaceTiming later.

“You two are hot for each other and adorable together.” She points to the newest alert. “And damnit have you looked at him? Of course you have. You get that handsome hockey man with the ass everyone is jealous of all to yourself whenever you want it too. Like you could be under him right now instead of sitting on my couch. He clearly thinks the same thing because I’m only assuming he’s sexting by the way your face looks.” Rin sips her wine in satisfaction of reading her best friend’s non-verbals so well.

“I.... uh...”Bekah’s head was spinning.

“You will take off. We will get you one amazing dress that will make that man melt. And you can FaceTime that man when you get home and tell him you are spending those few days in the warmth of Southern California with him before you start other things.” Brynn smile is mischievous as she takes in Bekah’s expression.

Like most trips, Jon met Bekah at the airport in Los Angeles. She was nervous about the events and the inevitable pictures but the way Jon reassured her made it all bearable. She watched him do roundtable discussions with men that the other grown men in the room were drooling over the way she would over a boy-bander in high school. She felt her skin heat up when they walked the red carpet. Jon pulled her close, kissed her temple and whispered, “when we stop just look up at me if you want okay?” She nodded and she did just that. Then she stepped back and admired the way Jon was so easy in front of the camera. He looked back once and she felt his energy radiating through her.

The All-Star game festivities were entertaining. Jon was so relaxed and Bekah felt it. They closed the door of their hotel room after the last event. “Thanks for coming Beks. Being my date. Doing all the standing and waiting things. Looking hot in that dress and my sweater so I could not think straight.” His breath was warm on her neck. His fingers roaming her skin.

“It’s getting easier the more things I do with you.” Bekah admits and moves her head to give Jon more room to suck the sweet spot he knew made her weak.

“Then maybe if we make the playoffs you will come and wear the cute jean jackets the girls have with my name and number on the back?” Jon doesn’t release Bekah from his hold.

“What?” The way Jon was making her feel was clouding Bekah’s head.

“We can talk later.” Jon pulls Bekah’s legs up so her core is pressed against his hard cock. She moans forgetting the need to clear up his statement and wraps her legs around him to move up and down needing more friction. “My girl needs me eh?”

“You are damn sexy in that suit Mr. Toews but I’d like you out of it now.” Bekah bites at his neck.

“You don’t have to ask me twice Beks.” Jon moves and Bekah groans when the pressure is gone. “Oh, my girl REALLY needs me?” Jon laughs and starts discarding both of their clothes. Bekah’s nails scrape down his torso and she drops to her knees. “Beks.” He breathes out and leans into the bed. She licks the pre cum off the head and slowly slides her lips around him. “Fuck.” Jon’s voice catches in his throat. She releases for a moment to look how unglued he was. Always so meticulous but she seemed to have a power over him no one else possessed which sent a current coursing through her body just thinking about it. “Where do you want me Tae?” She kisses under his length and blinks up at him. Jon’s eyes were closed but he blinks them open.

“I want inside you, Beks.” He whispers. She licks from his base to his tip again before moving up his body.

“Oh yeah?” She kisses his lips and feels his tongue asking for permission but she pulls away. He groans out of being denied. “Remember after your cup win when you bent me over the couch?” She smirks at him and runs her finger down his jawline.

“Yeah.” He huffed out. “I was embarrassingly a quick draw.” he looks into Bekah’s eyes and sees a spark. Her eyes flutter towards the couch.

“Wanna bend me over that Tae?” She bites her lip.

“Yes. Fuck yes.” Jon stands and walks Bekah backwards until her ass hits the back of the couch. Tenderly he flips her around and she braces herself. Jon slides in slowly and both moan out of the need. His hips work faster slamming into Bekah as she begs for more. The sweat dripping down both of them as Bekah presses herself into each of Jon’s movements. Bekah releases a hand from the death grip on the leather to her clit. “Beks that’s hot. Come on Baby.” Jon grunts feeling his climax coming. Bekah moans out his name and the two hit their highs. Jon doesn’t let up when she releases her hand from herself. He slowly lowers his body on hers kissing between her shoulder blades.

“Well...” Bekah tries to talk but her breath is labored.

“Well that’s what you deserved after my cup win Beks.” This causes both to laugh as Jon moves both of their bodies so she’s pressed against his chest.

“Oh you made up for it, Tae.” Bekah looks up into his brown eyes that are saying more than the words he’s spoken. “Now can we shower and talk about this jacket thing?” Her fingers dance on his collarbone.

“It’s nothing really just the girls get these jackets for playoffs. You would look good in one that’s all.” Jon leads her to the shower.

“Like a WAG thing, Jon?” Bekah asks as the reach the shower.

“Just a you are mine kinda thing.” Jon pulls her under the water spray.

“I’m yours Tae?” Bekah looks up at Jon with the water rolling down his body.

“Yeah Beks. You are mine. You mean more to me than anyone or anything else.” He kisses her hard letting the water run over their connected bodies. “I don’t care who knows it either.” He pulls her up into him and starts to wash them both.

They settled in bed that night and Jon quickly falls asleep from the weekend of events.

“Jon are you awake?” Bekah whispers in the middle of the night.

“No.” He mumbles in her neck.

“Jon, you got a very big award this weekend. Only 100 NHL players past and present got it. That’s big. Like really big.” She leans back a little.

“Is that keeping you up?” Jon kisses her.

“No, well... yes... no. I’m just curious. Are there awards and things I don’t know about? You were sitting with hall of famers and fit right in. That’s a big deal. You are big deal.” Her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve still never googled me Beks?” Jon’s eyebrow shoots up.

“Well, after googling Blackhawks WAGS and seeing a picture of you with someone else I decided that I’d just learn about you from you.” Bekah admits.

“Well, you know about most of them. Three cups, two Olympic golds, some MVPs and such.” Jon kisses her lips again.

“Wait, you have two Olympic gold medals?” She sits up.

“Yeah. I know you watch the Olympics. I’ve seen your closet.” Jon sits up remembering giving her shit about all the Team USA and Olympic apparel she had. He pulls her into his chest.

“Yeah, but I clearly didn’t realize you were on both Gold winning teams and I didn’t much pay attention to hockey before you.”

Jon laughs, “true.”

“And most don’t have all that?” She questions.

“Well, no, not really.” Jon hesitates. “What’s in your brain Beks?”

“Just trying to process why me, I guess. When you are so... you know, you.” Bekah admits.

“Beks.” Jon whispers. “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and we have the rhythm I’ve never had with anyone else. Plus I kinda love the fact that you don’t care about all the accolades and almost would prefer not to be in the spotlight even though I wish you were by my side for all the work things.” His lips kiss just behind her ear. Both sat in the quiet for a moment.

“Yeah, but our lives are in two different cities, Tae.” Bekah finally lets his words soak in.

“But they don’t have to be, Babe. You could always come to Chicago.” Jon answers simply but what he was saying had real weight to it and they both knew it.

#What's in a name fic #WIAN #Jonathan Toews fic #jonathan toews #j toews fic #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️#happens in the 2016-2017 NHL season

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racingtoaredlight · 3 years

Text

THE DEGENERATE’S GUIDE TO COLLEGE FOOTBALL TV WATCH ‘EM UPS 2021: WEEK TWO, A MUDDLED AND MAUDLIN WEEK OF MAYHEM IN HONOR OF THOSE WE LOST

RTARL would like to extend our warmest holiday wishes to those who celebrate and, even if you don’t, happy 9/11. Now who’s ready for some FOOTBALL!!!!?!?!

So after two weeks of games that combine to count as only one official week even though some teams have already played twice we have only one real question answered: is Alabama still good? Yes, they are. Everything else is still liquefying vapor.

I am assuming everybody is waiting with baited breath for an RTARLsman but I don’t have anything yet. I guess the not-Master Teague RBs on Ohio State are the frontrunners for now. Or that one guy from that one team who was good. You know who I mean.

Saturday, September 11

Matchup Time (ET) TV/Mobile

Illinois at Virginia 11:00am ACCN

Jeff George won Citrus Bowl MVP for the Illini against the Hoos in his last game as a student athlete before becoming the #1 overall pick in the 1990 NFL Draft. Based on this history it is safe to presume that whoever the QB is for Illinois today will be the #1 pick in 2022.

VMI at Kent State 11:30am ESPN3

I’m not sure on this but maybe this game is cancelled.

WKU at Army 11:30am CBSSN

Army is favored by 6. I bet this game is boring.

Norfolk State at Wake Forest 12:00pm ACCNX

I don’t see a line listed but whatever it is bet against Wake covering.

Indiana State at Northwestern 12:00pm BTN

This game is an act of terrorism.

Alabama State at 25 Auburn 12:00pm SECN

Real body bag season starts today, huh?

Youngstown State at Michigan State 12:00pm BTN

The Michigan State running back is the guy I was trying to think of earlier! He’s pretty good. Not good enough to make me watch this but I will check on his stats every so often.

Tulsa at Oklahoma State 12:00pm FS1

I bet Mike Gundy has some really salient thoughts on the 20th anniversary of 9/11 and I can’t wait to hear them.

South Carolina at East Carolina 12:00pm ESPN2

South Carolina is a two point favorite against an East Carolina team that is, per my understanding, not exactly good. So I can only extrapolate that South Carolina is likewise not good.

Pitt at Tennessee 12:00pm ESPN

Look, I’m not going to pretend this is good television but if Pitt rocks their classic yellow helmets and Tennessee wears non-alternates the colors on the screen will at least be pleasing. The thought of the actual football involved hurts my brain but it’s interesting that the points have gone from a consensus pick ‘em to Pitt -3 over the course of the week. Does Tennessee have any players that are good enough that by missing the game they could impact the gambling that much? Or are people just squaring themselves with the fact the the Vols are really and truly a ruined burnt out hole of a football program? Pound the latter.

12 Oregon at 3 Ohio State 12:00pm FOX

Losing Kayvon Thibideaux certainly isn’t going to help Oregon but he’s not usually on the field as a run stopper anyway and if Ohio State learned anything last week it’s that they can just run until they feel like throwing a pass. Oregon actually has some legit talent on the d-line besides Thibideaux but the Ducks are gonna be hard-pressed to keep things within two scores here.

Miami (Ohio) at Minnesota 12:00pm ESPN

If Oregon can’t make a game of it in Columbus look out because this time block is an absolute wasteland. There is scant reason to turn the TV on for the early schedule other than gambling purposes.

Kennesaw State at Georgia Tech 12:00pm RSN/ESPN3

Georgia Tech probably should have closed up shop after Paul Johnson retired. Either that or just absolutely slathered the football program in dollars. The Yellow Jackets being unable to land any big time recruits while playing in Atlanta is a real mindfuck. They aren’t a AA program playing dress up in a “power” conference they’ve got actual history. I don’t mean to give the impression I want them to be good but I don’t understand how they can be such fodder for so long.

13 Florida at USF 1:00pm ABC

Remember that year when USF was the best program in the state? Wild stuff. Weird, wild stuff. I know the deal with UF is that they don’t go out of state for contract games but it’s actually kind of surprising they even bothered to keep this trip to Tampa on the schedule. Like the area recruits would probably be happier to go see a game at The Swamp than to kick around their hometown for a pile of shit like this.

Wyoming at NIU 1:30pm ESPN+

I’m not gonna open the ESPN app for this but if it was on ESPN2 I’d probably check in on it during commercials. Aesthetically pleasing trash with an upside for actual entertainment.

Middle Tennessee at 19 Virginia Tech 2:00pm ACCNX

Virginia Tech’s home crowd scene was the normie story of last week’s games. People that don’t watch college football were either aghast or frantically waving their blue lives matter flags in response. Us in this space just ate the shame and forgot it happened by the time Saturday’s games kicked off. My theory is that VPI is not actually any good but UNC’s 2020 season was a well-timed fluke and the last hurrah of Mack Brown’s storied coaching career. The Hokies are at home, though, and MTSU is almost certainly not on the same athletic level as the Turkey Gobblers so I’d probably take the home team -20 if I were so inclined to wager on this particular game that is being broadcast on the ACC’s new pornography channel.

Rutgers at Syracuse 2:00pm ACCN

Holy fuck does this game suck. Reuniting former Big East, uh, rivals (??? does Rutgers have any natural enemies?) in a cross-conference classic betwixt the B1G and the ACC.

Duquesne at Ohio 2:00pm ESPN3

I don’t think I need to explain to you all the national title implications riding on this game.

Toledo at 8 Notre Dame 2:30pm Peacock

Just remember that if you subscribe to Peacock you are at the very least tacitly supporting Notre Dame. If for some reason you’re watching this please report back on how many of those defensive pick plays Notre Dame runs. They were doing that shit constantly against Florida State last week and it drove me nuts. I think the idea is that you are so flagrantly illegal so often that the refs grow numb to it and just don’t call it at all.

Robert Morris at Central Michigan 3:00pm ESPN3

Not to be outdone by the early games, the 3 o’clock set is equally terrible.

Purdue at UConn 3:00pm CBSSN

I bet Edsall still gets bonuses for stupid shit even now that he’s retired or whatever the official designation was for him no longer coaching.

Boston College at UMass 3:30pm FloFootball/NESN+

I don’t know what FloFootball is but I know it isn’t anything to do with the state of Florida.

Ball State at 11 Penn State 3:30pm FS1

It surprises me to see Penn State as only -22.5 favorites. That seems very kind to Ball State. Hopefully I’m wrong and the Ball State Lettermans take it to the Sanduskys.

Murray State at 7 Cincinnati 3:30pm ESPN+

Practice week continues.

Temple at Akron 3:30pm ESPN+

Pound the under.

Georgia Southern at Florida Atlantic 3:30pm Stadium

There is really nothing going on this week.

Air Force at Navy 3:30pm CBS

Middies vs. Fly Boys in the first leg of the Commander’s Cup on the twentieth anniversary of 9/11. I can’t imagine the amount of emotional manipulation that’s going to make its way onto this broadcast. Normally I watch these games but I don’t think I can do it this year.

UAB at 2 Georgia 3:30pm ESPN2

Georgia may well be absurdly talented on the defensive side of the ball but I’d be surprised to see them make it through the regular season with fewer than two losses.

5 Texas A&M at Colorado 3:30pm FOX

This is only interesting if the Aggies spring a leak.

California at TCU 3:30pm ESPNU

Things most certainly are not looking up.

Buffalo at Nebraska 3:30pm BTN

Nebraska is in an interesting position because if they buck the odds and end up being good after we’ve all been so ready to see a National Championship-winning coach get fired that would be funny but if they end up being really bad it’s even funnier. Go Bulls!

Mercer at 1 Alabama 4:00pm SECN

I’ll cry a little if Saban pulls the starters in the first half and the Tide beats Mercer by less than they beat Miami.

South Alabama at Bowling Green 4:00pm ESPN+

10 Iowa at 9 Iowa State 4:30pmABC

This is not the kind of top 10 matchup I can just sit idly by and let it happen. Your silence is complicity in this monstrous display of modernity.

SC State at 6 Clemson 5:00pm ACCN

Clemson dropped all the way to #6 and they’ll hang around the top of the polls because they don’t have the toughest conference schedule in the world but my confidence in them is not high right now. I think the new QB is just a guy. He’s talented as hell but I don’t see him being great.

Illinois State at Western Michigan 5:00pm ESPN3

This is either MACtion or MACtion adjacent and I have only one word for this midwestern trash: abhorrent.

LIU at West Virginia 5:00pm ESPN+

LIU plays football?

Lamar at UTSA 6:00pm ESPN3

Downside: You’re watching one of the least important games of the year. Upside: You’re really not missing anything.

Portland State at Washington State 6:00pm P12N

Washington State was a perfect spot for the stupid pirate fuckhead and his leaving has ruined the program and, eventually, his reputation. Not relevant to this game necessarily but this game isn’t relevant to anything else, either.

Gardner-Webb at Charlotte 6:00pm ESPN3

Oh, yeah, feel the excitement.

Bethune-Cookman at UCF 6:30pm ESPN+

Go Cats.

NC Central at Marshall 6:30pm ESPN+

The hits keep coming.

Houston at Rice 6:30pm CBSSN

I’ve always had a soft spot for Holgo and for Houston football but somehow I really don’t like seeing him coach the Cougs. This is SWC magic but with no magic. UNLESS! Houston can put up 100. I don’t think they even have the guys to do it but this is Rice we’re talking about here.

Nicholls at Louisiana 7:00pm ESPN3

Keep the energy up.

North Texas at SMU 7:00pm ESPN+

I bet is MS621 were still alive he’d be at this game giving Spencer’s boys hell. Sadly he died doing what he loved, curing his COVID by eating ivermectin paste out of a horse’s butt. R.I.P., friend. Neigh to you wherever you are.

Southeastern La. at Louisiana Tech 7:00pm ESPN3

Even the low tier stuff is geared up for annihilation. This is a bodybag week for all time.

Memphis at Arkansas State 7:00pm ESPN+

Memphis getting less than a touchdown against Arkansas State seems like easy money but I have no real concept of either of these teams just yet. Maybe the end is nigh for the Tigers glory years? I sure hope not but it’s possible.

NC State at Mississippi State 7:00pm ESPN2

This game should be as fun as a parents funeral.

Southern Illinois at Kansas State 7:00pm ESPN+

Over the past week I experienced derision for referring the the guys in purple and silver as “Kansas State” instead of “K State” and that stung because it always surprises me that anybody cares about them enough to have a strong opinion about them.

Stephen F. Austin at Texas Tech 7:00pm ESPN+

Shrugs

15 Texas at Arkansas 7:00pm ESPN

Let’s see if Texas is ready to run with the big boys of the SEC! Arkansas is given a decent shot to win this game and that makes the “15″ next to Texas appear extremely suspect in my eyes.

Texas Southern at Baylor 7:00pm ESPN+

This week Texas Southern is the people’s champion.

Texas State at FIU 7:00pm ESPN+

Oh, Butch, why have you done this to yourself?

Western Carolina at 4 Oklahoma 7:00pm PPV

All the Westen Carolina fans are buying this PPV to see their guys score 40.

New Mexico State at New Mexico 7:00pm Stadium

I looked up the historic rivalry last year to figure out why it was played early in the season instead of at the end but I’ve forgotten and don’t feel the need to look it up again. I figured out how to watch Stadium on my TV but I also forgot that and don’t feel the need to look it up again.

Appalachian State at 22 Miami (FL) 7:00pm ESPNU

My gut tells me Miami is probably legitimately about the 14th best team in the country but I still would never advise you to bet actual money on the Hurricanes. Are they 9 points better than App State? Easily. They should win by 20+. Are they liable to fuck around and lose or scrape out a win in the final seconds? Absolutely. Let’s fuckin’ go.

Morgan State at Tulane 7:00pm ESPN+

A lot of people learned to love the Green Wave last week but it’s hard to keep that going with their schedule. Don’t forget them later in the year when the CBSSN glow is really shining.

Liberty at Troy 7:00pm ESPN+

Liberty -4 is maybe my surest advice of the week. If Malik Willis is as good as his press the fake school should have this game on ice early.

Eastern Michigan at 18 Wisconsin 7:00pm FS1

I find Wisconsin’s losing effort against Penn State last week to be a personal affront against me and all of nature.

Eastern Kentucky at Louisville 7:00pm ACCNX

I think this game being broadcast at night on ACCNX means they’re playing naked.

Grambling State at Southern Miss 7:00pm ESPN3

This is the kind of game that belongs on an app.

Hampton at Old Dominion 7:00pm ESPN3

This is the kind of game that belongs on a well-worn high school football field.

Austin Peay at 20 Mississippi 7:30pm ESPN+/SECN+

This is a pretty big OOC game for an SEC team.

Georgia State at 24 North Carolina 7:30pm RSN/ESPN3

One of several GSUs, I think this is the one I most hope emerges victorious this week.

Idaho at Indiana 7:30pm BTN

Wait, wasn’t Indiana like #10 last week? What the hell happened to them? No, don’t tell me. Seriously, don’t.

Missouri at Kentucky 7:30pm SECN

When the SEC hits 24 teams the “S!E!C!” chants are gonna seem really stupid.

Howard at Maryland 7:30pm BTN

There’s no official line for this game but I hope the Bison can pull off the upset in this classic local rivalry game.

Jacksonville State at Florida State 8:00pm ACCN

Still shaking my head at FSU icing their own kicker. Jesus, Norvell. Get your shit together.

McNeese at LSU 8:00pm ESPN+/SECN+

LOLSU was my lock of the week last week if you’re considering taking gambling advice from me.

Washington at Michigan 8:00pm ABC

UDub lost to a 1-AA team last week and now they have to go on the road and beat Michigan. Which seems inevitable, to be honest.

Cal Poly at Fresno State 10:00pm CW59

The murder rate will continue to increase as the day progresses. I always kind of like it when a local broadcast shows up on the sheet. So pretty much none of us have legal access to this game. It makes it more special.

San Diego State at Arizona 10:00pm P12N

Pac-12 Network is similar to CW59 in that almost nobody in the country has legal access to their broadcasts. If you’ve read enough of these posts you are aware that SDSU is my weird very deep backup team. I don’t have a reason to align myself with the school or program, I just tend to enjoy watching their games.

Vanderbilt at Colorado State 10:00pm CBSSN

This is an abomination.

21 Utah at BYU 10:15pm ESPN

This is a lowkey fun rivalry. I’m pretty sure I write the same thing every year but it’s still true. Go Utes.

Stanford at 14 USC 10:30pm FOX

I think USC could win a national championship and I’d still be baffled that Clay Helton is their coach. Of course, they won’t win a national championship as long as Clay Helton is their coach but they apparently won’t ever get embarrassing enough to fire him, either.

Idaho State at Nevada 10:30pm Stadium

This is the lowpoint of the week’s schedule and you have to stay up late to watch it on a network that only exists as an app or as part of a hidden unlockable download-only level of cable subscription. This is the beauty of the college game.

UNLV at 23 Arizona State 10:30pm ESPN2

Herm Edwards figured out the trick to looking good in the Pac-12 without having a particularly great team and I can’t make up my mind if I’m rooting for him to keep sliding on that rail or to fall off it. I think I’ve come around to rooting for him but it’s a very dynamic and fluid situation.

Hawaii at Oregon State 11:00pm FS1

Hawaii gets to play at their normal time for a game against the bottom of the barrel of the Pac-12 but they’re an 11-point underdog. If you’re ever going to take Hawaii, this is the stars lining up for you to do it. It’s still a big “if” but I’m saying there’s a chance.

#college football #football #Tv watch em ups #rtarl watches tv #gambling #9/11 #two decades after 9/11

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ltjlily17 · 3 years

Text

Its hard to dance with the devil on your back

Was it a boy or a girl to text you last ? It was my husband. He was responding to a meme I sent him about Napoleons penis.

Name something you are doing tomorrow? Feeding the baby.

Do you sleep on your stomach? I used to. I wish I still could. Like my body wants to roll on my stomach, but it hurts my back and pelvis when I do it. I’m hoping that will change eventually.

Where are you going to be at 4pm tomorrow? No idea. Probably hanging out on the couch.

Last time you saw fireworks, with whom & where? All the 4th of July celebrations were canceled around here this year, so people just bought fireworks and lit them off at their houses. For months, ha ha.

Are you missing someone? Nah.

Do you like horror or comedy? Both.

Who did you last share a taxi with? The first time I went to New York was before Uber existed, so we used taxis. It was my roommate, Lori

Dogs or cats? Both are pretty cool.

What were you doing at 12 this afternoon? Sleeping. I sleep from 8a to 1pm these days. Completely normal, I know.

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? Yep.

What’s your favorite season? Fall. Although the fall is getting less and less fally here every year.

When’s the last time you did something you knew was wrong? I’ve been taking what I assume are hospital bills and just putting them in a pile to be dealt with later. Dealing with all of that is just insane. I actually got a phone call the other day and the lady ledt me a voicemail saying I needed to call and make a payment plan to pay my $105,000 balance and I just don’t know how someone could even leave a voicemail like that.

Do you hate being alone? Nah. I’m actually pretty good with whatever circumstances. I have a limit to maybe being too alone, but mostly I’m good.

Is there a girl that knows everything or mostly everything about you? Close-ish. I’ve had the same best friend for like 20 years.

What about a guy? The husband.

What color shirt are you wearing? Plain black. Second shirt of the day, first one was vomited on.

What are you listening to right now? Spotify Daily Mix 1. Husband banging things around in the kitchen trying to cook, ha.

If you won a lot of money on the lottery, what would you buy first? Hmmm, no idea. Maybe bedroom furniture? We painted and pulled up the carpet to reveal the hardwoods and got a new ceiling fan, but I still have the same dressers and nightstands that I had when I was 15 and I’m, just, tired of them. They’re in great shape but man, 21 years is a long time to look at the same dresser ha ha.

What was the last thing you bought? Target order online. The baby is on special preemie formula and we can only reliably get it at Target.

What’s your greatest fear in life? Death.

Who was the last person to see you cry? Husband. The aftermath of having a baby and then just coping with life caused a lot of tears. Also, lack of sleep.

Who was the last person you hugged? My husband. Hugging other people is still frowned upon due to the pandemic.

Do you think you would be a good parent? Ha ha, hopefully, its a little too late to go back now.

When was the last time you cried? I need one of those workplace accident style signs for this. 3 days since the last sobbing.

Who was driving the last time you were in a car? I was. I dropped off some paperwork to a mailbox to get out of the house the other day.

Does any part of your body hurt right now? My tailbone hurts when I’m sitting like all the time these days and I don’t know why or what to do about it.

Who was the last person that text you and what did it say? I was chatting with a friend about one of my house plants earlier. A bunch of them were neglected when the baby and I were in the hospital for two months and I’m trying to nurse one back to life.

What was the first thing you thought this morning? When my husbands alarm went off at 8, I thought oh good, I can finally sleep.

How many times do you talk on the phone a day on average? Zed.

Do you like your bed? No. I fucking hate it. The blankets and whatnot are great and we got one of those adjustible bases so we can sit up and read and stuff but our mattress is just so awful. My husband for some reason convinced himself he wanted a firm mattress- spoiler alert, he didn’t- and we ended up with this compromise memory foam thing that is so hot and uncomfortable. If it wasn’t so exensive I would’ve set it on fire by now.

Hey, that’s what I’ll do with my lottery winnings from above- new mattress.

Do you like your life? Zoomed out, yes. Day to day, questionable.

When did you last talk to your brother or sister? I have neither. But I do have two friends that might as well be sisters and I’ve talked to one today and the other last night.

Do you ever wanna know who you are going to marry? I do know. Why did we have to spoil the surprise? Ha ha.

How much cash do you have on you? Zed. There are some dollar coins in my wallet from having to put a $20 in a vending machine a couple of months ago.

Who are the 3rd and 7th texts in your phone from? One is some automated system thing from the vet I take the dog to that I never even opted in on, and the other is me sending my husband a door code that our contractor gave him over the phone so he wouldn’t forget.

Are you tanned? Nope. Rarely am. This summer it was over 90 degrees and I was pregnant, so I didn’t spend a lot of time outside.

Are you upset with anyone? Nah.

Did you get any compliments today? Ha ha, no. I only saw my husband and the baby.

Have you ever gone to court? Once, because I got 3 speeding tickets within 6 months when I was 19.

Do you get jealous easily? I’m like low level jealous sometimes, but not like seething with it.

How good is your eyesight? I can see perfectly for about 14 inches.

Would you ever want to swim with the sharks? Sure. I did this snorkel/scuba thing in St. Kitts and there were wild Manta Rays swimming around/below us and it was amazing.

What time did you wake up this morning? I was up pretty much all night and then went to sleep at like 9am and got up around 1pm.

What are you doing Saturday? Same thing I do everyday. Being pregnant/having a newborn in quarantine is even more isolating than I thought it would be. We can’t have any one over to even give us a half hour to be human again.

What is in your back pocket? I am wearing fuzzy penguin pj pants and they have no pockets unfortunately.

What were you doing at 3am this morning? Reading. I’m on my 4th book this week. I finished two and got halfway through the third and just decided it was awful and to call it.

If people see this- book recommendations please! I’ve been reading a lot of non-fiction, but like most everything but smutty romance and fantasy. I’m also not reading scary stuff right now because I’m doing all my reading at like 4am and I don’t need to spook myself, ha.

What do you usually do first in the morning? Hope for more time to sleep.

What color is your room? Darkish green.

Are you any good at math? I am. I don’t particularaly like it but I can do a really good amount of math in my head easily.

Any plans for Friday night? Pretending that weekends have any meaning to me whatsoever any more.

What did you do last weekend? Fed the baby. Ate some food. Didn’t really sleep. I think last weekend is when I finished putting most of the nursery together.

Do you have a little crush on someone? Nope.

How old is the last person you kissed? 35.

Why did you last cry? Exhaustion. Change. Feeling like my body isn’t my own.

Why did you kiss the person you last kissed? Unsure, other than like, we love each other and stuff.

What's his name? Steven.

How has this week been? Tiring.

#survey #shakeitoff #books #howdoidothekeepreadingthing?

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littledarlinwrites · 5 years

Text

Sidewalks

Pairing: Stephen Strange x surrogate daughter!reader

Word Count: 2239

Author's Note: okay, this one was a struggle (and life was not being any kinds of helpful either)! This was also my first time writing for Doctor Strange! A big thank you to @lexxierave for helping me brainstorm when I got stuck! This was a request by @littlepurplewarrior for a bit of angst to end with fluff with a surrogate father!Stephen Strange. Thank you so so so much for being so incredibly patient while I worked on this and I hope you love it!

Warnings: parental death, vague description of a panic attack sorta, angst, fluff

You were used to being alone and you were used to people leaving. Your mom left you and your dad when you were just two, not even old enough to remember her. The more shocking blow was when your dad died three years ago. You were fourteen and you were walking home from school as usual when you saw an ambulance, firetruck, and police a block away from your house. As soon as you saw the crumpled motorcycle in the street you knew what had happened. You remember dropping your knees onto the cool cement, it was spring and hadn’t been consistently warm yet, but that day had been beautiful for a ride and your dad had probably gotten the bike out to get it warmed up for the season. Ever since you figured it was safer to be alone, people always left anyway. This way they couldn’t hurt you if they couldn’t get close.

Every Wednesday Stephen would visit a little deli nearby, he had tried everything on the menu at this point at least twice, it was one of the few normal things from his life that he couldn’t shake. Maybe it was his version of comfort food, maybe it was what kept him connected with his old life, but nonetheless, he would go to that deli religiously. He recognized familiar faces, and he knew that he had never seen yours. You knew your way around though, so he knew you weren’t new. However, that wasn’t what caught his eye the most. No, what piqued his interest was the magic he could feel clear across the deli that was humming through your veins. He knew that there can be at most two Sorcerer Supremes per world at a time: there will be two Sorcerer/ess Supremes if one of them has greater skills than all others, while the other commands a greater portion of the ambient magical energies than any other, and he knew that you would be the next sorceress supreme, with guidance. He could also sense a great darkness looming within you. Not evil or doom and gloom, but more of a loneliness and deep sadness obtained from some great personal loss.

Stephen knew that if he didn't approach this carefully, he would spook you, and who knows what could happen after that. If he could so easily and clearly sense the magic coming off you in waves then that meant other sorcerers could too, ones that may want to use you if you were lucky, and kill you if you weren't. He walked over to the counter were standing at, simply acting as if he were perusing what was behind the glass. He saw the man prep your order as another worker came over and asked him if he knew what he would like to order. He rattled something off and discretely told them to put your order on his bill as well. Stephen looked you over for any clues as to your interests, you t-shirt was plain, your bag wasn't decorated with buttons like most kids your age, but you were holding a very worn book of poetry by Bukowski in your hands, and what looked like an older journal with it. He averted his eyes when you were passed your order, trying to hand your crumpled bills in your hand to the man only to be refused and told that someone else had paid for your meal. Stephen could feel your eyes upon him when the man behind the counter pointed out who had so graciously paid for you. Stephen continued to act as if he wasn't aware and paid for both meals as he was handed his. A gentle tap on his shoulder causing him to turn around.

"Thank you for paying for my meal, you really didn't have to."

"Oh it's no problem! I was a struggling college student once too. It's good to see not everyone is as caffeine addicted as I was though."

"Uhm, I'm not a college student, I actually just graduated high school."

"Oh, so the Bukowski is just a bit of light reading?" He asked inquisitively.

"Yeah, something like that." You told him with a sad smile.

"Favorite quote? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours?"

"We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain." He nodded his head thoughtfully.

"I never met another man I'd rather be. And even if that's a delusion, it's a lucky one." The silence was a comfortable one and Strange stretched out a shakey hand.

"Dr. Stephen Strange." He introduced himself. You shook his hand while introducing yourself to him.

"So, Y/N, tell me more about your fondness for Bukowski." Strange said as you two walked towards the park. The two of you talked poetry for hours while walking around. What were your favorite pieces, favorite authors, what made them tick, and just theories behind who they were as people.

Hours later the sun was setting as they walked around the city. Strange stopped at a doorway with 177A Bleeker St. labeled beside it.

"Well, Y/N, this is me. You okay getting home by yourself?" Strange asked.

"Uhm, yeah, I'll be fine. It was nice meeting you Dr. Strange."

"Hey, if you ever want to borrow some books I have a whole library full of them."

"I thought you were a doctor?" Your head tilted to the side confusedly. Causing a chuckle to erupt from Strange's chest, one that reminded you of your dad's.

"I was, but that's a story for a different time. Wong is actually the librarian. I just kinda keep an eye on things here."

"Oh, that's cool. Well, I look forward to the story and meeting Wong sometime."

"You sure you're gonna be alright getting home? I don't mind the walk."

"Oh no, it's alright. I'll be fine. See you tomorrow at the deli?"

"Tomorrow at the deli then."

Slowly Doctor Strange earned your trust, and quickly you looked forward to your daily deli trip. After having cut yourself off from others in fear of losing them, you forgot how nice human contact was.Strange just had such a permanence to him. As if he could never die.

Eventually, you did check out his library. Excitement trimmed through your veins as you gazed over the books, each time you entered the library you felt that way, it was like being a kid again where everything felt magical, like you saw the world through rose colored glasses. You never thought you'd feel this again after your dad passed.

One day you were in the library reading a book about magic, figuring it was some type of myth textbook. Feeling a bit childish, you decided to practice one of the spells in the book like you would when you were a kid watching a movie about magic. The spells never worked, but you couldn't help but feel nostalgic and try it out just for nostalgia sake. You moved your hands in the described pattern a small smile on your face with your eyes closed envisioning what the book described. When you open your eyes, you're amazed at the sight before you. The air was sparkling gold with what could be best described as a window in the middle. A window to the past, a happier time that brought glistening tears to your eyes. There was a white bedroom with bright colored accents, a nightlight that cast stars and constellations on the ceiling, and in the bed was a father reading to his 6 year old daughter a book of bukowski poetry, skipping over or improvising the more mature bits for something more fitting for a six year old. You could see the little girl struggling to keep her eyes open as her father's baritone voice lulled her to sleep. Once her eyes fluttered shut one last time, her father kissed her forehead before whispering "goodnight sweet pea." The window darkened before disappearing altogether. Your breathing was coming in shallow bursts, tears cascading down your face, and your heart was thudding in your ears. The tap on your shoulder nearly caused you to jump out of your skin as you turned and launched yourself backward to face Stephen. He had a cut on the left side of his face and his lip was busted. Fear clutched your heart in it's cold grip nearly stalling it. Without think you pushed yourself to your feet leaving all of you things behind as you bolted through the door and out of the building.

Stephen stood there awestruck and dumbfounded. He couldn't believe how easily you completed the spell without even knowing about your ability. However he was dumbfounded by what caused you to be so upset. The memory seemed to be a happy one. When he looked down he saw the journal on the floor, picking it up gingerly he opened the cover to see on the left a quote written, "some moments are nice, some are nicer, some are even worth writing about." Another Bukowski quote. On the right was a man's name with the same last name as yours. He began flipping through the book and it didn't take long to deduce that the man the book belonged to was your father. On the last day was an entry about taking the motorcycle out for a quick spin after a long winter before going out to what was said to be your favorite little deli. That entry was dated years ago with no new ones since. A faded, folded picture lay in the crease of that page, a man and his daughter on a carousel. One look at the picture had Stephen's gut turning. He remembered that face. Everything clicked. He had worked on your dad, but there was no saving him, even with his skilled hands at the time. Stephen figured you'd be back for the journal and book you carried with you religiously and decided to wait.

It was two weeks later when he stopped waiting. He ventured out to the deli placing an order to-go before making his way to your place. He knocked sharply on the wood before hearing a soft shuffle on the other side. When the door opened enough to get a look at who lived behind it, he wished he hadn't waited so long. Your eyes were raw and bloodshot and your hair a tangled mess of knots. Stephen pushed his way past the door frame and did something a bit uncharacteristic of himself and wrapped his arms around you as you cried. He didn't shush you, but he did rub your back with his free hand, and he let you let out all the pent up emotion before guiding you to your couch that was a few feet away. He put the bag of food in your hands gently instructing you to eat. He used magic to summon your brush and continued to use the magic to gingerly brush the knots from your hair. Once both tasks were finished you sat in companionable silence before your voice broke the silence. It was rough from disuse, but Stephen caught every word.

"I never knew my mom. She uh, left when I was like two. It was me and him ever since. He would always read me poetry to get to sleep. Bukowski was his favorite. He would take me to the deli, it was our favorite little place to go when we ate out. We were supposed to go-" your voice cracked halting your sentence. You took a deep breath and carried on.

"You remind me a lot about him, you know. You have the same laugh. You just seemed so permanent. Like you'd never leave, like you couldn't get hurt. I mean, you probably think that's childish of me, but, it's just how it seemed. And then I did that spell, and I didn't think it would work, but it did, and you showed up and you were hurt, and I just don't think I can handle it when you leave too because people always seem to leave me and-" you began to hyperventilate and Stephen put his shakey hands on your arms, grounding you.

"I can't promise that I'll never leave, but I can tell you that I won't leave willingly. Everybody has to leave at some point. Somebody once said, 'every song has a CODA, a final movement. Whether it fades out or crashes away, every song ends. Is that any reason not to enjoy the music? The truth is, there is nothing to be afraid of. It's just life.' One day you'll have your own CODA, does that mean you should die now?"

"N-no." You stutter out between sniffles and a small smile lit up the doctors face.

"It's going to be okay you know. There’s no shame in being afraid. We’re all afraid."

"Even you?"

"Yeah, even me."

"How do you face it?"

"Get comfortable kid, this is going to be a long story." The two of you settled in on the couch as Stephen described to you all the times he was scared. The world not only became a little less lonely, but also a little less scary.

"there are worse things

than being alone

but it often takes

decades to realize this

and most often when you do

it's too late

and there's nothing worse

than too late"

-Charles Bukowski

#stephen strange x daughter!reader #stephen strange #surrogate daughter #surrogate father #doctor strange #doctor strange x daughter!reader #doctor stephen strange

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doshmanziari · 4 years

Text

Castlevania: Curse of Darkness ~ It’s Just Like Symphony of the Night, Except Not At All! [Part IV]

When asked recently if Curse of Darkness is good, I answered: no; but, I’ve played through it about ten times. So, on a subjective level that can’t really be transmitted to other people by telling them what to focus on (although I’ll try to enumerate what I focus on), there is something here that, well, I just like. I’m not the sort of person to make the claim that, “[X] is a fine videogame, but a bad [series-name] videogame.” That’s not my conclusion -- to suggest that there is an inherent goodness to the series I like just because it generally excites my palate, and that anything below one’s standard is a “betrayal” of that inherence.

Even though difficulty isn’t what I go to videogames looking for, I think what makes Curse of Darkness work best for me is its hard mode, accessed by finishing the game once and then inputting “@CRAZY” for your file name on a new file (the same goes for Lament of Innocence). The norm for the Castlevania series and iterative challenge has been “loops” -- clearing the game once and then having it roll over automatically to a new game, whereupon enemies deal more damage and are perhaps more numerous and/or newly appearing. Although these adjustments have provided an extra challenge, the presence of new material, of differing enemies or enemy placements, has tended to be relatively minimal. The first Castlevania, for example, halts its modifications on stage four on subsequent loops. CoD’s hard mode is remarkable in that pretty much every area has been edited for enemy type and occurrence. It is also, at least on some hypothetical level, the toughest of any Castlevania hard mode. Hours in, you will still be easily slain in just a few hits, your curative capacity is strict, and money is tight. What all of this means, for me, anyway, is that Curse of Darkness becomes a sort of brutal dungeon crawler: the endurance which the level design, by default, asks of the player better matches what you need to do in order to survive until the next save point.

What it also means is that you might be compelled to more intentionally curate your familiars, here called Innocent Devils. Normally, these critters are absolutely peripheral, excepting a handful of spots where one’s ability is required for progress. On hard mode, having the right familiar in the right situation, using the right abilities, is an enormous help -- sometimes, the difference between your life and death. If I could retroactively magically redirect all of the labor poured into the Innocent Devils to the level design, of course I’d do it in a heartbeat; but the variety that effort produced -- the physical differences between a Devil’s evolutionary forms, their skills, and the descriptions for each (two of my favorites: “A star motif graces the rod of this mage. Its owner dreams of one day becoming one with the stars”, and “Pure rage in corporal form, it is chaos with wings. Many find its anguished form hard to look at”) -- has its place among the rest of the game’s marginalia. Without them, too, Curse of Darkness would perhaps be an overly lonely experience.

Curse of Darkness has something in common with KCET’s post-Game Boy Advance Castlevanias (most of all Order of Ecclesia), which is that its bosses are excellent -- fun to look at and fun to fight, especially on hard mode, where precise mechanical execution is mandatory. The downside is that they are, in fact, so good that returning to the game as usual after each can be especially deflating. Just as fun are the narrative interludes featuring some wonderfully on-point voice acting by, best of all, Liam O’Brien (as Isaac) and Adam D. Clark (as St. Germain), and, somehow, some of the subtlest facial expressions found on the console. To be sure, the characterizations are limited -- caricatures more than characters -- but what they lack in humanistic texture (something perhaps not to be sought in this series) they make up for in flair. People might pick on the Lords of Shadow titles for resembling “high fantasy” ersatz with doses of Castlevania jabbed in wherever, and while that is a fair criticism, just as awful was the games’ relentlessly grieving tone, as if a suffocating sense of self-seriousness were what the material needed for effect. Curse of Darkness’ tonal strain -- reverential, obscurantist, and funny -- could not be unlikelier. There is the rendering of Trevor Belmont, after we first fight him to no avail, as a near-saintly figure; the inscrutable, fanfiction-like logic guiding the major plot beats; the way Hector, as protagonist, slams between ridiculous shrieks of vengeance and introspective “Indeed”s. It is, all in all, maybe the best-relayed storyline Castlevania has ever gotten, and maybe will ever get.

If there’s one mechanical idea, separate from the Innocent Devils, to applaud, it’s the stealing mechanic, whereby Hector can snag various items from ghouls and ghosts if done at the proper time. This is indicated by the lock-on reticule momentarily switching from orange to purple, and often requires waiting for certain animations to begin or finish. It’s a neat micro-challenge to engage if you’re so inclined (bosses are where it shines; the Wyvern, for example, has an optional aerial sequence that’s tied to the steal-window), and a nice alternative to item drops being determined by randomized success/failure rates. To be clear, randomized drops do still exist -- they’re there in the bestiary as a delineated datum -- but they’re no longer the sole possibility. For some, this mechanic might also serve as an invitation to observe Dracula’s army with a heightened degree of purposefulness, to better appreciate the effort that went into giving its members life. However viewed, it’s kind of a shame that the idea remains unique to Curse of Darkness. I suppose pure statistical randomness pumps up the playtime for anyone who enjoys grinding; but the intentionality underpinning the stealing mechanic, the terms of its execution and our means of utilizing it, is a tantalizing window into an alternative, less number-crunchy shape for the action-RPG mold of Castlevania.

And, really, for as often as Curse of Darkness’ visuals compare unfavorably to Lament of Innocence’s, I couldn’t’ve taken as many photos of it as I did for another lo-fi-/CRT-dedicated project last year (a fraction of the results can be seen here and here) if the game’s world didn’t have an ambient luminescence of its own, albeit one thinned out by the aforementioned issues with the scope and camera, and several stale settings. In a fashion seemingly particular to PlayStation 2 releases, scores of exterior and interior spots are clothed with polychromatic, sourceless “lighting”, such that a wall’s surface might go from a deep blue to a brown-green to a purplish red. Taken as a sum, Curse of Darkness’ Wallachia is dim and gray-faced; taken constitutionally, it’s in fact abounding with colorful dispersions. Especially delightful for its brazenness is the pause menu/status screen, centralized by a pillar of neon-green stamps, headlined by a teal and an orange ochre banner, and itemized on the right by a stack of iconographic boxes. As coloration and organization go, compared to Lament of Innocence’s screen, it’s sloppy. But as a chunk of graphic design to linger in, it’s delicious, and happily recalls Harmony of Dissonance’s palettes (also directed by Takashi Takeda).

Well! That’s nearly all I have to say about Curse of Darkness right now. I’m curious if the animated Castlevania series’ second season, featuring Hector and Isaac (Isaac is physically recast and no longer queer-coded in the way media tends to do that coding; a gain and a loss, in my opinion), got some people to try this game out for the first time. If it did, I’m also curious if the show’s characterizations transferred over, maybe allowing those people to enjoy Curse of Darkness in a way foreign to myself (no, I still haven’t watched the show) and others. Could the imaginatively supplementary reach of fanfiction sustain such a playthrough? Surely it’s possible.

You can read the prior three essays on CoD here, here, and here.

#curse of darkness #Castlevania #brick by brick #akumajo dracula

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jancys-blue-bayou · 5 years

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Yeah so Stranger Things 3 was painfully bad

Yeah yeah big negative post about ST3 coming up. Just... holy shit, my expectations weren’t exactly high but jesus I didn’t think it’d be this bad. Wow. Mindboggling to think it was made by the same dudes who made season 1, it feels like a different show. Some of the worst writing I’ve seen in a long while, parts of season 3. This got very long because it was very bad so it’s under the cut. Starting with the few positives and then away we go...

Of course there were bright spots, I thought what we got of Jancy was generally good (just wish there had been more of it. Just like... more lines between them, a few moments could’ve gone on longer...like after the awesome hospital fight scene jesus just let them fucking desperately embrace and profess their love for each other, it was awesome how they relentlessly kept going at the monster to save the other but can we please just have a few more seconds for a comfort moment after?) I liked how they handled the fight btw, apart from the Oliver Twist comment yeah yeah heat of the moment but still felt OOC with that loa a blow. Nancy and Karen scene was nice and um... well Max and El bonding was nice. And um... Mr Clarke! And I kind of dig Murray.

My main issues with it:

- The product placement. Jesus Christ. Okay, ST has always been a show with noticeable product placement. But it’s gone from things like a Coke can prominently on display on a table in s1 (El crushing it with her mind) to literally having a straight up ad for Coca Cola in the middle of a tense scene. That’s the big offender that made me go wow you’re really doing this to yourselves huh, there are many others ofc (everything at the mall ofc, Slurpees being in hyperfocus for a bit, and a lengthy talk about Burger King. These smaller things one by one wasn’t the worst but all combined jesus it was too much, all added together and then bam the Coke commercial was wow... Congrats on the like 80 sponsorship deals and esp the new ST themed arcade hall by Coca Cola hope it was worth completely selling out for.

- Relatedly, the original fucking song. Holy christ talk about jumping the shark. That was the oddest, cringiest, weirdest shit I’ve seen in a long time. Gaten’s a great singer don’t get me wrong, but there’s a time and place for it and an original song stuffed into the middle of the tense climax of the season is not it Duffers. Just a blatant cash cow, hoping to bring in more money via the song.

- Robin. Sorry but holy cow what a Mary Sue. Hey here’s this super cool girl who’s cool™ and funny™ and super smart™ and NOT Nancy (like they seriously for real said in a scene, they actually for real had to pit Robin and Nancy against each other for no reason). And she conveniently has these specific skills needed for the plot (which she gets involved with for no real motivation other than having nothing better to do, lazy writing). Said skills were so over the top unrealistic it completely sucked me out of it. To start with, this random girl in small town Indiana in 1985 speaking French, Spanish and Italian um... does Hawkins High have the most amazing language department or what? Very un-american in that case... and okay then, her knowing those languages wouldn’t help jackshit with understanding Russian. Russian is a notoriously difficult language to learn and it is not related to the Romance languages at all, Robin knowing those languages and oh, having “a good ear” bc she’s in band (?!??! what?!) wouldn’t help her at all. Having the alphabets on the wall and listening to strange words in a foreign language she has no understanding of would never work. No way for her to understand what is she’s hearing, what letters are in the words just, nothing. It’s completely ridiculous. The good thing is she’s a lesbian, crushing Stobin that made me LOL. Btw, I don’t get what age they were writing her as? She’s still in school but later says she and Steve was in the same class, and she knows who Nancy is but Nancy, who is still in school, doesn’t know her even though presumably they’d be in the same year at little Hawkins High? Was it just sloppy writing or what?

- Too. Much. Plotting. What happened to “this season is about the characters” um there was just so much plot stuff and action sequences and barely any character driven moments at all. Those intimate moments that made s1 amazing. Generally regarding plots felt the Russian plot was messy and not well-written also what happened to the US government as the big bad? Unless they’re setting up a big Cold War thing for s4. And felt the zombie thing was wasted, could’ve been used differently like I’d have thought it’d be used like the MF spreading it’s influence over vaster areas and being harder to keep track of etc.

- Too little Will. Will’s whole thing with feeling left out etc was just dropped halfway through it felt very undercooked. His arc was just dropped wtf.

- NO BYERS FAMILY INTERACTIONS WTF. The sequence in the first episode when Jancy has overslept and Joyce wipes the lipstick off Jonathan was cute (but could’ve been even cuter I’d have preferred a short fluffy Jancy moment here just as they wake up before they realize they overslept, bc we didn’t get much pure fluff, and then it’d been awesome if Joyce would’ve just called Nancy into the house to mess with them). But like... that’s kind of it. For the Byers family. Talking to each other in the whole season. When they partnered Jancy with the kids many thought awesome we’ll get Byers bros talking and teaming up (and Nancy and Mike) but there was just nothing. Not even a family hug after the battle at the mall, just Joyce hugging Will, with all this tightknit little family has been through you telling me Jonathan wouldn’t join in?

- No Will and El bonding wtf? SUCH a wasted opportunity. They’ve built this unique awesome connection over s1 and s2 and now in s3 would finally be able to bond normally for real and... nothing.

- Turning Hopper back into an even bigger jerk than he was at the start of the show, neglecting all his character development. What was the point of the whole El and Hopper thing they devoted so much time to in s2 if Hopper’s back at it with the yelling and all now? And jeez his constant whining to Joyce about every man she interacts with holy christ that got annoying. Generally Hopper was such an annoying asshole this season I was so tired of him by the time he “died”.

- TOO MANY CHARACTERS. Jeez, I know I’m on about it all the time but jesus christ there is way way too many characters in this for 8 episodes which hurts the narrative and screentime for interesting characters is just... yeah.

- Speaking of screentime, did we really need that many identical generic fight scenes between Hopper and the Russian guy? Jesus Christ it’s so boring watching fight scenes like that, so repetitive (compare to the hospital fight scene which was dynamic and awesome). Also regarding screentime did we really need to devote so incredibly much of it to Steve and Robin being comedic relief while drugged? Yeah yeah mix light and dark and all that but jesus christ at that point in the narrative shit has hit the fan lean into the dark.

- Totally expected of course but still, the furthering of Steve Memeington. My god they actually had him literally call himself daddy... christ.

- The Billy and Karen/all the other middle age women remains gross and bad in a billion ways. Also completely pointless for the plot, they could’ve come up with any other way to get Billy to the factory. And what did it give Karen in development? Just the realization that yeah I’m tired of my husband but I’m not leaving my family and I’ll stick with him just ‘cause? Okay but did we need her almost sleeping with a kid a year older than her daughter for that? Icky. Also the editing of the scene where Billy hits her was so weird. Also that was weird as fuck.

- The ending. Okay christ my main gripe with this is because of a point above: No Byers family interaction at all! Joyce and Hopper talk briefly about her thinking about moving once or twice but she never talks about it with her kids... obviously she did in the timegap but we need to see that to build to the thing. Having no Byers interactions the whole season and then just oop we’re moving is so weird. I’m also not sure if Joyce’s motivation for moving (her bad memories of Hawkins) would be enough. For sure an argument for it, but an argument against is the one Hopper presents to her (and though he’s not around still there’s still a support system around them there, especially for her kids which she loves above all). Speaking of her loving her kids above all, she knows they love their friends/girlfriend/boyfriend to bits, have walked through fire with them and are each others support system as mentioned, would Joyce really just uproot them from that? There’s also some purely practical things that stuck out to me immediately: the timeskip for the epilogue makes it so they move when the schoolyear is already well under way and Jonathan has started senior year, feel bad for Jonathan there in a number of ways. Also, how the hell did Joyce manage to sell her house and what did it fetch? Her rundown house on the outskirts of a now infamous town with an incredibly bad rep? Even if the buyer bought it for the land the land doesn’t look special, just find it hard to believe she could get much for it. And where did they move? Where did she find a place? And work? Did she have something lined up or? I guess we’ll see.

- Oh and speaking of work, that was another thing that was just dropped, the mall killing downtown and the protests just fell out of the story. But, with what happened to the mall wouldn’t business come back to downtown (possibly reason for Joyce to want to stay if Melvald’s going out of business was another reason to move).

- Sorry but Mileven took way too much space.

- Again, no Jonathan and Will actual brothers bonding. But a whole lot of Steve and Dustin meme fanservice wank.

- Erica is just the sassy black girl trope non stop the whole season and nothing else and it’s so grating and... I was gonna say disappointing but I had no faith in the Duffers regarding this. Just because a bit character becomes a meme doesn’t mean they need to become a main. *cough* Steve *cough cough* Sorry.

- Last but not least, the woobiefication of Billy. Uggggghhhh. Disgusting. And having Max cry over him WTF?!?!?!?!?! staaaaaaahp.

#stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things 3 thoughts #stranger things 3 spoilers

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lostinfic · 5 years

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Summary: She writes for magazines about luxurious resorts in exotic places and five-star hotels in glamorous cities. He’s photographed devastated war zones, refugee camps and child soldiers. For both of them travel is an escape, but he’s had enough of this grim reality, and she’s had enough of this disconnected fantasy. Perhaps together they can find something in between, something real, and stop running from themselves. Each season, a new destination and a chance to grow closer.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Teen (for now) Word count: 2.3k

Ao3 | Gifset

Hardy woke up gasping for breath. The room spun above him. The pillow was damp under his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath until his heart rate slowed down.

The city shone through the curtain-less window. 3:16 blinked on his alarm clock.

He turned on every lamp in his tiny flat, filled the empty space with light. He scrubbed a hand down his face and prepared a cup of tea. As the computer whirred to life, a knot formed in his stomach.

Nightmares were nothing new for him, but they harassed him more frequently since he’d been tasked with selecting his favourite photos for a retrospective exhibition of his work. For twenty years he’d roamed the world with his camera, documenting the best and worst of humanity. Mostly the worst. From war zones to refugee camps, from barren deserts to overpopulated slums. Shining a light on those forgotten and left behind. Twenty years of anonymous faces. Twenty years of people he’d promised to help staring back at him on his computer screen.

Had his work really made a difference?

He clicked on a folder labelled “Syria 2014”. Thumbnail pictures popped up one by one. He’d never accustomed to this jarring feeling: looking at devastated places from the safety of his flat. His brain couldn’t reconcile the vivid memory of fear gripping his guts and chemicals burning his lungs with his quiet surroundings. Here, only the rattle of a too-close commuter train track and one nosey neighbour bothered him. But his brain sought hidden dangers, pushed warnings through his blood.

Tess would have helped him pick the photos, he thought. She’d once been his editor. She’d encouraged and admired his work until his commitment to it drove her into another man’s arms.

Just like this flat, the separation from Tess was meant to be a temporary situation. But three years had passed and now the divorce papers rested in their sealed envelope on the corner of his desk. He wasn’t sure which of the divorce papers or his old photos were the hardest to look at. The children and women he’d failed to help properly or the woman and child he’d failed to make happy.

He opened another folder of pictures, these ones from Tunisia in 2010, during the Arab Spring. An intense time, exhilarating. Still on his chair, he felt the protesters pushing against his body, carrying him like waves. He felt their thirst for freedom, the shift in the balance of power.

He selected a photo of a passionate young woman, shouting her heart out against the regime. Her eyes glistened with tears, her hands held high in peace signs. Red smoke surrounded her like a divine aura. In the next shot, a soldier punched her in the stomach. Hardy’s first instinct had been to take the photo. Thankfully, a young man came to her rescue. Hardy scrolled farther down the folder to another picture of the same young woman, a month later. In the crowd of protesters, she and the young man who helped her are exchanging wedding vows. He wondered what happened to them. He wondered what happened to their hopeful spirits.

Hardy slipped a hand under his grey t-shirt and touched the fresh scar on his chest.

Maybe this retrospective exhibition of his work was a second chance. An opportunity to atone for leaving these people behind.

The exhibition was still months away, in autumn, during a World Press Photo conference. Until then, he’d have to live with the nightmares.

His computer pinged with a new email notification. His eyebrows rose when he saw the sender: Ellie Miller.

I’m sorry to reach out to you like this, out of the blue. I know I haven’t been in touch, but we need your help.

Maybe you’ve heard, I’ve moved to Indonesia. There’s an island here, Pulau Kesuma, and there’s something really wrong going on. Foreign investors seized a huge part of the land to build a hotel, the Mahal Kita, and it’s been having a terrible effect on the local people and nature. I’m sure they must have done the same in other countries too.

I tried to reach out to my former colleagues at BBC World but it’s a small island and they’re all very busy. What we need is a photographer to show the destruction.

Give me a shout if you’re available and I’ll tell you more.

Hardy’s doctor had warned him against stressful work, but not helping people in need stressed him out more than throwing himself in the middle of a conflict. He replied to Ellie right away.

Hannah signed on the dotted line and returned the contract to her editor, Duncan. In exchange, he handed her a plane ticket to Pulau Kesuma and the necessary documents to complete her assignment for Elite Travelers magazine.

“The Mahal Kita Eco-resort & Spa,” Hannah read out loud. “Eco-resort? Didn’t you say ecotourism is a load of bullshit?”

“It is. That’s not the part I’m interested in: this island was closed to the tourism industry before now, at least not our kind of tourism. Smelly backpackers could go all they wanted and sleep in a goat pen.”

“How come it’s opened now?” she asked.

“There was no point in keeping it a nature reserve after the tsunami. So the Indonesian government lifted the restrictions. About two years ago. In exchange, the company helped restore the island.”

“That’s nice.”

“Anyway, just focus on the resort, the beaches, the night life… ”

“I’ve an angle to sell it, the ecotourism—” she spread her hands in a presenting gesture— “treat yourself to a guilt-free escapade.”

His reaction was something between a nod and a shrug. He didn’t believe it could interest their readers, but the comments on her blog told her otherwise.

“Stick to what you’re good at. Don’t fuck this up. If you get this right, you could become a senior writer.”

Hannah gasped and smiled. “Really?”

Senior writer meant less freelance work to make ends meet, business-class travel, press pass to fashion weeks, yachts and five-star restaurants. Not to mention she’d be the youngest and only female senior writer.

Duncan drummed his hands on his desk. “All right, fuck off, I’ve other writers to babysit.”

After the meeting, Hannah went straight to Stanford, an iconic travel bookshop in London. Even as a child she loved this place with its hundreds of globes and ceiling-high shelves of guidebooks. She’d pester her parents relentlessly until they agreed to take her here.

There was an enormous vinyl National Geographic map on the floor, and she trailed her feet from England to Indonesia. It elicited a lightness in her chest, and she nearly danced to the Asia section.

She would spend a week at the resort, then she intended to visit the rest of Indonesia for two weeks. She flipped through guidebooks, and compiled a mental list of ideas she could pitch to other magazines.

In the periodical section she checked out the trends and the competition. She scanned the racks and flipped through a few magazines. Three of them mentioned carbon-neutral travel, zero-emission hotels or sustainable tourism. She didn’t want to bore her readers with the science of climate change or to make them feel guilty about flying in a private jet, but being environmentally-conscious was trendy right now so she needed to get on that.

Hannah herself had become interested in the subject after a trip to St. Maarten in the Caribbeans. Not because of the trip itself but a documentary she saw after about a side of St. Maarten hidden to tourists: a vast and ever-growing landfill caused by the flow of cruise ships. Half the island’s population lived in that junkyard. Filled with good intentions, she had bought the filmmaker’s latest book. A year later, it was still on her nightstand, a bookmark halfway through chapter two. It had not been written for neophytes, that much was clear. She had returned to her usual travel ways, but a discomfort lingered.

Should she stick to what she was good at, as Duncan put it, or go all environmentally-friendly? She knew what her editor expected but, if done right, bypassing his instructions could work in her favour. Or ruin her chances at a promotion.

Back home, she dropped her magazines on the small kitchen table that doubled as a desk. For all intents and purposes, her two-room flat was a storage unit: a place to keep her things while she travelled the world. She had plans to make it cozy and pretty but had yet to do it. The few weeks a year she was here, she spent working, eating takeout and trying to catch up on whatever normal people did with their lives. Still, the flat held all her souvenirs and books. It was a place to rest her weary feet and head. A place to listen to the rain and traffic, and to dream of her next trip. When it came to travelling, having a home was just as important as having a passport, it was the difference between traveller and vagabond.

Ben was coming by later, meanwhile she fixed her make-up and curled her hair.

When he arrived, he entered without knocking first. He carried a plastic bag of thai takeout.

“Panang chicken for you,” he said as he placed the white oyster pails on the counter.

“Extra pineapple?”

“Extra pineapple.”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” Hannah kissed his cheek.

He blushed lightly and looked her up and down.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, but don’t get any ideas, it’s for my followers,” she replied with a humorous tone.

She handed him her camera and stood in front of the one nice wall in her flat. She posed in a calculated casual way with various travel accessories and her new book on Indonesia.

“How much are you getting paid to have that bottle of sunscreen lotion in the frame with you?” Ben asked.

“Don’t ask, it will only make you mad.”

“Do you even like that stuff?”

“It’s alright.”

She actually couldn’t afford a regular supply of it beside the one sponsored bottle, but the product was very on brand for her.

After Condé Nast named her in their top ten travel blogs, her follower count surged. Sponsored posts became a significant source of income which translated as two more trips a year. She liked thinking of herself as an entrepreneur. She sold herself and her lifestyle— well the brighter side of her lifestyle— and it allowed her followers to indulge in a little fantasy.

She looked over Ben’s shoulder as he swiped through photos on the camera screen.

“Are we done? I’m peckish,” he said.

“Just a couple more, I’m not sure about that shirt.”

After some consideration, she switched her top for one that wouldn’t make her look so pale.

“Thankfully I’ll have a nice tan soon,” she said.

The change in Ben’s mood was subtle, he blinked too fast and his shoulders stiffened. And she felt herself becoming defensive, her cheeks warmed up.

“Oh. You’re leaving again.”

“You realize that’s like me saying: ‘oh you’re going to the office again’?”

“Yeah, the office, a cubicle with annoying coworkers and a boss, not a five-star hotel in L.A.”

“Christ, Ben, you know I didn’t become a writer for Elite Travelers by lounging around the pool all day.”

“I don’t need your resume.”

“I wouldn’t need to give it to you if you stopped implying mine’s not a real job.”

Ben tried for levity: “I’m just saying, why go halfway around the globe when you’ve got the best right here? You said so yourself.”

Hannah went along with the joke even if she knew part of him was serious. She tried not to create false hopes in him. She’d said she wasn’t interested in a relationship, that he shouldn’t wait for her. But when she travelled alone and felt lonely, she called him and, in-between trips, he was her only friend left in London.

She offered him a beer from the fridge and neither of them mentioned the trip again.

As they ate, she chose the best picture out of thirty and posted it on her Instagram account. She was the first to use #pulaukesuma, but not the last if she did her job well.

Scrolling through her feed, she noticed a picture posted by her sister: her son’s birthday, with their whole family gathered for the occasion. It was today and they hadn’t invited her. “I didn’t think you were in the country,” Jackie replied when Hannah confronted her in a text message. She didn’t insist. What was the point? She was leaving soon anyway.

After the meal, she watched a movie with Ben, but her mind kept drifting off to her next assignment. She repeatedly stood up to get a glass of water or add something to her packing list. At the thought of Indonesia, her limbs buzzed with a sort of restlessness and her stomach swooped.

She often thought of visiting new countries as a fling. The way they occupy all your thoughts and that anticipation of seeing them. You want to know everything about them. There’s always more to discover and experience. You can’t get enough, but you know it can’t last. And in a way, that’s the best thing about it because you only have time to see the best of them. You must enjoy it while it lasts. When it ends, you’re sad and miss them, but, in all honesty, you wouldn’t settle there permanently.

She was only ever faithful to London. Or perhaps she had yet to find the one.

***

→Chapter 1: CGK

#Hardy x Hannah #teninch fic #travelers AU #see author's note on Ao3 #about Foxy kindly allowing me to write this #lostinfic writes stuff

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