#2/3 pairs were retrieved but in attempting to get the third pair i knocked them fully into the gutter

[polymoth]

Oh lads. I've really fucked up. My roommate's socks are in the gutter

[fourmarkdove]

Fawn - Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

Title: Fawn - Part 5

Words: 2.1k

Summary: Plans to return to your ancestral home are halted by an accident that nearly costs your life. Angst. Hurt/comfort.

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: Suicidal ideation. If you’re triggered PLEASE skip ahead. Please check out the trigger warnings (tw:) in the tags!

A/N: I appreciate you sticking with me this far. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading as always!

The crack of thunder shook you awake from a dead sleep atop Roach. You gasped, lifting your head from the bicep you’d been using as a pillow for hours and bolted upright. 

“You’re safe,” Geralt soothed in a tone so deep that you felt the sound rumble in his chest pressed against your back. He’d tucked you completely inside of his cloak with him while the rain patted rhythmically on the fabric all around you. Although it was completely dark, your cheeks were so warm and the scent of leather and him was so comforting. Closing your eyes again, you settled back and felt his thumb stroke your hip indicating that’s exactly what he wanted you to do. The gentle motion of the horse under you and how his hips rolled with yours… you wanted to think more about it but you nuzzled against his bicep and were gone again in seconds.

“What’s she doing?” Jaskier asked hours later when your head poked out of the cloak swallowing your frame. Everything was now covered in a thin layer of white as the rain turned to snow. 

Geralt cocked his head to the side, amused by your attempts to catch snowflakes on your tongue.

“So thirsty,” you choked.

“Now how is that possible?” Jaskier complained, receiving a sharp side eye from the Witcher. “I’m just saying… she’s already had yours and mine.” 

The Bard was right. But you’d also used up every last drop of fluid in your body to expel the inky poison just the day before. And the elevation change couldn’t help. 

Inhaling deeply, he caught the scent of a nearby stream and tugged on the reins toward that direction.

The moment that Roach paused, you pushed aside the black cloak. You became completely enraptured by the tinkling sound of ice forming and breaking along the banks, the gentle rush of the water flowing over well worn rocks, and the sparkle of what little light reflected across the surface. This mesmerizing scene caused you to all but launch yourself at the ground and race towards it. 

Geralt caught around your hips mid-leap and dragged you back over his thick thigh to his solid chest with a ‘thump’, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“Let me go!” you squealed, your hands attempting to pry his solid forearm away from your ribs. 

He grunted, tugging off his cloak and wrapped it around you. He didn’t say so out loud, but he was troubled by how long you slept, how quiet. You’d been draped over his forearm all day and barely woke a couple of times in a daze mewling for water before dropping again. Admittedly, he shifted his weight in the saddle more than once just to check and see if you’d wake and we’re still breathing.

Stepping down, the Witcher led his horse to drink and then lifted you down to sit at the edge as well. 

It didn’t take but a moment for you to scramble onto your stomach and reach out to touch the water, bringing your fingertips back to taste. 

Jaskier filled his water jug and frowned. “Mm… Geralt I think your friend here is still unwell.”

Clearing his throat, Geralt refocused the gaping bard.

“So what’s the plan then? Pause a moment here? Then move on to the next town? I don’t feel much like sleeping out here tonight.”

The Witcher huffed and shook his head. “Give her a moment; then we’ll see..”

As the two men talked, they didn’t see you lean forward and stretch your neck out to drink like Roach. The cool water tasted so good going down your parched throat, you just couldn’t get enough.

With a yelp and a splash, the powdery snow gave way and you slipped right into the frigid water, dragged under with his heavy cloak gripping your neck.

“Fuck.” Geralt growled, knowing immediately what had happened even before he turned heel to run downstream. Racing ahead of you, he planted his feet in the water that didn’t reach quite over his knees and leaned way over to collect the writhing mass of arms, legs, and fabric tumbling underwater toward him.

You came up coughing and it took him a moment to figure out which end was up. “Let go of me!” you cried out, hot tears welling up, threatening to spill down your cold cheeks. 

“Hmm,” he grumped, stepping out of the cold water. Catching under your legs, he noticed the pleats of Jaskier’s borrowed pants were already beginning to freeze, stiffen, and stick to your skin. 

Standing you on a clear spot he made with his boot, his cloak dropped in a heap around your legs. You trembled uncontrollably, from the shock of nearly drowning, the frightening cold seizing your body, and terror of the scowling Witcher tearing clothes from your body for the third time in as many days.

“Jaskier. Build a fire.”

“What? Why? We are headed to the next town, remember?”

His eyes narrowed and he growled, tugging the hem of Jaskier’s borrowed tunic right up over your head. 

“She’s not going anywhere if she’s dead.”

“Alright, alright,” Jaskier sulked, turning away, beginning to collect firewood. He wasn’t too keen on staying out in the forest any longer - not when there was a warm bed and any number of supple breasts waiting for him in town. 

The Witcher looked deadly serious though, his jaw set and gold eyes alight with focus. Feeling through his bags, he retrieved one of his own black tunics.

“Take it,” he rumbled, pressing the worn fabric into your shaking hands clutching your elbows. Left shuddering, you were slow to move. Every muscle in your body ached and the cold had sucked any reserve of energy you’d gained during your long sleep.

The Witcher busied himself tearing apart firewood with his bare hands and tossing them in a pile, making Jasker’s meager armful look like kindling. He could hear your heartbeat slowing the moment he dragged you from the icy water. Even from a distance now, he could make out the faintest sound of your muscles seizing up.

With a hefty sigh, he returned to you and plucked his shirt from your frozen grasp. You’d made no progress peeling off the remainder of the icy fabric, now stiff and sticking to your tender skin.

“Come here,” he husked, bending down from behind you. The rumble of his voice so close to your neck made you gasp.

“I can do it.”

“If you could do it, you’d have done it by now.”

His large hands wrapped around your waist, pulling the fabric down your body. It was a relief to be released from the frozen solid garment and you exhaled deeply in appreciation.

Next he reached around to your belly and tugged at the frozen solid knot of your bottoms. The knot gave way in his fist and they dropped from your hips. Suddenly feeling very exposed to more than just the cold, you folded your arms across your chest like an embarrassed bride.

His black shirt dropped down over you like a sail, skimming below your knees. It was soft and surprisingly warm. As soon as your arms unfolded and slipped into the too long sleeves, he scooped you up under your knees. All you wanted to do was rest your head on his shoulder and curl up against his chest while he stroked you all over but then you remembered the violet-eyed Yennefer. And how he kept the wedding a secret. Embittered by the betrayal, you pulled away when he settled you onto the saddle blanket near the fire just flickering to life and went to repack his saddle bags.

You watched him silently, letting the warmth of the fire gradually thaw your limbs.

“I’m going hunting,” Geralt announced, returning to the flickering fire.

Sitting across from you, Jaskier rubbed his belly. “Not particularly hungry at the moment.”

You shook your head indicating you were fine too. 

He frowned sharply, disapproval furrowed his brow. Without saying a word, his attention snapped to his weapons and stalked into the woods alone.

“Did I say something wrong?” 

Jaskier’s gaze followed his friend until he was out of sight. “Wha… no. He’s just worried about you and it’s made him extra grumpy.”

By the time he returned with several large rabbits in hand, the Witcher’s cloak was tented over a low hanging branch and Jaskier sat near the fire plucking. 

Geralt nosed toward the tent before dropping heavily onto the log nearest the fire and set to work preparing the rabbits.

“She is resting,” Jaskier over-enunciated, still just shy of a whisper. “Are we done traveling for today because I sure would love the feel of a warm bed and soft thighs around my head.”

“Hmm,” he grunted. In truth, Geralt was only half listening, and more focused on turning an ear toward the makeshift tent. “When did you last look in on her?” 

His tone was threatening and it made the bard incredulous, putting his hands up. “A while I suppose? All I did was help put some stones down so it wouldn’t blow away when the wind picked up.”

Geralt huffed, nodding slightly. Still, he always heard your racing heartbeat; something felt wrong. Pinning his knife in the log where he sat, he lifted heavily and crunched through the dusting of snow accumulating around the campsite.

“Jaskier!” he bellowed, tearing down his cloak, revealing only his saddle and empty blankets.

“Listen, Geralt, I swear I didn’t know,” he pleaded, following the seething silent witcher. “How can I help? What should I do?”

“Jaskier - you’ve done enough. Go into town like you planned.”

The Wolf followed your boot prints in the muddy snow until there were no more feet to follow. Fortunately, he recognized your scent trail wafting along the underbrush. Stalking in stealth behind you, it didn’t take long to catch up.

Wielding his silver knife overhead, an otherworldly shriek escaped your lips as you dived onto the Drowner, slicing into its sickly flesh. 

He dashed forward into the fray as a second and third, escaping your notice, heaved themselves onto shore. 

Once the fallen creature lay hissing, you leapt atop its writhing body, pinning it to the ground between your knees, and gripped the stolen blade you’d concealed in your boot. 

Dispatching both deadly creatures quickly with his heavy sword, his hair spun like a riptide about his face as he looked for you in the near dark. 

A gasping shriek from the nightmare fodder pinned under his fawn gave way to slick, gouging sounds as you mangled the putrid flesh over and over until you were breathless.

Catching your hand, he pried the blood slick blade from your grasp. Ripping your slippery hand from his yielding grip, you leaned over your gaping kill and released a soul wrenched, hate-filled scream.

Geralt gripped under your arms and dragged you away from the water's edge. Collapsing back against an oak tree with you barely contained in his constantly readjusting grasp, he exploded in anger.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?! That fucking thing could have killed you. Stop - Stop struggling and answer me!”

Letting out a howl more feral than alliterative, you squirmed and elbowed his ribs as hard as you could. 

He easily overwhelmed your attempt to flee and flexed his arms around your body, dragging your back to the solid wall of his chest. Panting, nearly breathless yourself, he gripped you tight and stroked back the hair clinging to your sweaty brow; you relented more out of pure exhaustion than anything else, letting your head willfully dip back against his shoulder.

He frowned severely, glancing side eyed at you as you trembled with every breath and clung onto the forearm pressed across your breasts. 

“What. Happened,” he rumbled, dropping his voice to a more intimate tone.

Your head rolled slightly on his shoulder, licking your dry lips. “I don’t know.”

“Why do you have my knife? You’ve told me how nervous they make you.”

Releasing the grip of the mud underfoot, you began to rest your weight back against him. Feeling your clammy forehead against his cheek, he sighed. And waited.

“I was going to end it, Geralt. Right here by the water. I want to be swept away.”

Jaw clenched, he fought the immediate eruption of rage threatening to explode deep in his belly. 

“But those things appeared and ruined that moment in time when I was at peace with the idea. I got so angry because I was ready but they took it from me. Finally a decision all my own and it was taken.”

“Despair is an ugly look on you,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

Conceding to his blunt objectiveness, you wilted. “Unwanted daughter… Bride. Whore. What else do I have to hide my shame if not despair?”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

[starlling-writes]

Bewitching Monsters - Orc (Valzok) Part 2

Series Rating: 18+ Chapter Contains: swearing, suggestive dialogue, ritual cutting/bloodletting Pairing: f/m BeMo Masterlist   ☆  Writing Masterlist

“Sorry for not asking your name before. Many of my customers don’t offer them—they hold power for most fae—so I don’t normally ask.”

“No worries, Witch.” His soft chuckle and warm eyes made me melt inside.

The rest of his visit was just business. Valzok checked my wood racks, did some math and figured out a delivery schedule that worked for both of us. He would be chopping the wood at his workshop and delivering it here; at least he’d bring it himself and not have a courier do it.

“Alright. It’ll take me the rest of the day to make the oil for your enchantment. Then a couple hours tomorrow to cast it. You can either leave your things here and pick them up at your leisure; or you can drop them off the next chance you get and kill some time while I work.”

“I can come back tomorrow afternoon if that works for you.”

“Yup. It’s a date.” Instantly I cringed. “Um—you know what I meant.” Today was going great. He only chuckled in response, stoking the fires of both embarrassment and desire within me. He packed up while I busied myself prepping ingredients. I knew my face was flushed. And I needed to calm down before I could stand looking at him again.

One day would be enough to compose myself right?

The first part of the potion was boiling steadily. It would take time to reduce. I wandered up to my loft and started looking through my things. Specifically, I started going through the trunk at the foot of my bed. Valzok was still flittering in my mind.

“What does an orc cock look like?” Caera chirped in.

I jumped and dropped the dildo I was looking at. I took a second before answering her. “I don’t even know where to begin with that.”

“So you have seen one, Mistress?”

“By the gods.” Slamming the trunk closed, ignoring the number of toys still scattered on the floor, I went back to the kitchen. The potion was nowhere near done and staring at it was not going to help. But I needed to distract myself from the conversation Caera was trying to force.

“Are they as thick as the rest of them?”

“Stop!” I groaned. She was only making my aching lust worse.

“Are their heads rounded or flared? Are they ridged? Do they have a—”

“If you wanna know so badly, why don’t you go fuck one then.”

“You know I haven’t the body for that, Mistress,” she crooned.

“Then fuck a ghost orc.” Her laughter echoed about the room as she drifted close to me. She was not letting this go. Two more minutes of her pestering and I cracked. “Moon help me—I haven’t seen an orc dick before! Okay?”

The silence was as bad as her laughter.

“Surely there are toys that—”

“Yes! Yes. There are realistic toys I could get. I could even just look up pictures. However, to do either of those I’d have to go into town to use the public café’s public Mind and I really don’t feel like doing that.” During my rant, I knocked over a jar of herbs that dominoed into my candle rack, sending half of my mini tapers rolling off under my worktable. My sigh was close to a growl as I bent to pick them up.

“You could always ask the carpenter to see his wood.”

“What?!” I yelped. I also hit my head on the underside of the table—that’s what I get for trying to wrangle the fallen candles when Caera was in this mood. I retreated to the safety of the open room and cushy floor pillows. “What is with you tonight?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I know this is bold of me to say, but you have such a longing look in your eyes. I was merely suggesting sating it.”

“We just had sex a couple days ago!”

“Five days. Though I don’t think what we did compares to corporeal intercourse.” She wasn’t wrong. Thinking about it, it had been some time since I got any actual action. However, I disagreed with her suggestion about Valzok. There was no way I could see him tomorrow and casually ask Hey, wanna fuck?

No. Just—no.

 Valzok arrived right on time. I was halfway into my ritual headspace so greetings were short. And with how long this would take, I wanted to start right away. Once again I had him lay out his tools, though this time on the floor. “Once you’re done, feel free to go back to town. I’ll be done in about two hours.”

“Actually, if you don’t mind I’d like to stay and watch you work.”

I held his eyes for a second—they were such a lovely moss green—then nodded. If he really wanted to be bored out of his mind here then so be it. Made no difference to me.

I settled in. Prepping a cloth with the oil I made yesterday, I picked up the first tool and began anointing the blade. As I covered both sides of the blade, I cut my finger.

“You’re bleeding. Let me get you somethi—”

“It’s fine,” I stopped him short. “It’s actually a part of the spell.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize.” He shifted in his seat with a firm set brow and frown.

I chuckled to myself and continued working, mixing my blood with the oil on the blade. “I wouldn’t do the spell this way if there was any serious danger in it. The cuts will be easily healed afterwards.”

“Cuts?” he emphasized.

“Yes. I’ll make a small cut on my hands on each blade I anoint. Don’t worry; it doesn’t hurt. I took a tincture before you got here to make sure of it. And as I said: easily healed afterwards.” Despite my attempts to reassure him, he still seemed unsettled. It was always amusing seeing my customers’ shock when they see some of my magical methods.

I refocused and continued my work.

 I zoned out for most of it. Towards the last third of my work I began noticing a loud, rhythmic thumping. I glanced around the room but couldn’t find any source of the intrusive noise. I did find that Valzok was no longer here. Curious. I finished anointing the saw blade I had in my hands before getting up and glancing out the window.

In front of my house I saw the orc in question chopping up a tree. Shirtless. I had no idea how long he had been out there—or where he got the tree—but he already had a good sweat worked up. Sweat wasn’t my usual thing. But right now—mmph. It was entrancing watching his muscle work. Seeing the way the sun glistened along his body. Hearing that feint grunt each time he swung the axe.

My axe.

Would he handle me as adeptly?

What would his moans sound like when he thrusts into me?

How soaked and scattered would my sheets get by the end of a night together?

Damn was I distracted. The longer I stared at Valzok, the further out of ritual headspace I slipped. And I still had magic to work… The only thing that made it possible to drag myself away from the window was the knowledge that the sooner I finished my work, the more of Valzok’s work I’d get to enjoy.

 When I finished up, I was a bit disappointed to see Valzok back inside. Still shirtless, he sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, a near empty glass of water sat on the table next to him. His solid gaze fixed on me. “Done outside, or taking a break?” As I stood up I wobbled, hit by a quick burst of vertigo from magical loss kicking in. Just like the cuts, it was something expected and simple to correct. “Don’t give me that look. I’m perfectly fine.”

“She says as she bleeds all over the floor.”

I looked down at my hands. Okay, he had a point. It totally looked like I confused a pile of broken glass for bread dough—a dozen loaves worth of dough. Though I wasn’t quite bleeding all over the floor; just a few drops here and there…and over there. “Caera.” Without delay, she retrieved my healing salve, a washcloth, and a bowl of warm water and placed them on the table. A couple minutes, a little magic, and I was good as new.

“See,” I said and turned. Valzok was already standing beside me. He grabbed my hands and inspected them, running his thumb across the backs. He flipped my palms up and traced down my fingers. It left me hot and shivering.

“You still almost feinted.”

“I just need to recharge. Some food and rest is all I need.”

“Then let me treat you to lunch.”

— — —

BeMo Masterlist   ☆  Writing Masterlist

Story: Previous  —  Next

Character Arc: Part 1  [Here]  Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

[hawkinspostbite]

Concussed

A side-story to ‘Friday Night Lights’.

Words: 1,445

MASTERLIST

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc. PS: Billy Hargrove is a SHIT person and I’m not gonna ignore that, but sometimes there’s parts of people we don’t see. So I didn’t erase his shitty parts, I just added some better ones.

Hour One

“This drive would go a lot smoother if you would STOP reaching for the wheel!” She shouted at him. Y/N was in the process of driving Billy’s beloved Camaro back to her home. He had the passenger seat reclined all the way, sunglasses on, despite it being nighttime and a cigarette between his lips. Every so often he would lean over and attempt to take control of the wheel. Finally defeated, he sighed and watched the dark world go by. Luckily that weekend both of Y/N’s parents were out of town. Her father was at his brother’s bachelor party in Indianapolis, and her mother was spending the week at her sister’s.

As she pulled into the driveway she checked the time; 10:43, almost one hour down. “Can you walk on your own yet?” She turned the car off and gripped the keys, turning to Billy. He just shrugged. She got out of the car, making her way to the passenger side door. He sat himself up and swung his legs out.

“Dizzy. Definitely can’t walk.” He muttered and grabbed her as a makeshift crutch. The two of them shuffled to the door, and upon finding the spare key, made their way inside. He leaned against the kitchen counter, sliding his glasses slightly down his nose. “You do know I’m gonna need help getting a shower, right?” He grinned deviously.

In return she whipped her head around, glaring at him. She was sure he was faking it now.

Hour Two

Stepping out of the bathroom in nothing but her towel, Y/N glanced down the hallway to look at the clock. 11:21, how had it seriously taken that long for her and Billy to shower? Oh never mind. She remembered. He had taken the opportunity to feel up every inch of her body, not that she was complaining, but it took awhile.

She proceeded to her bedroom, retrieving Billy’s extra clothes that had been left at her house. A plain white T-shirt, some sweatpants, and many choices of boxers. She left them in a pile outside of the bathroom door as she proceeded to dress in her favorite pajamas, and continue her nighttime routine.

A knock sounded on her door. She looked at the clock on her wall, 11:39. “Can I come in? Are you decent?”

“Since when have you ever cared if I was decent?” She scoffed as he walked in. “Are you hungry?”

He flopped down onto her bed. “You know me too well.”

Hour Three

By the time Billy decided what he wanted to eat, it was well after midnight. The clock on the stove read 12:23 as Y/N was busy in the kitchen. Billy sat atop the counter and watched as she went to work. She began to brew a pot of coffee, since the pair still had five more hours to go before they could sleep. She had put the second of two trays of chocolate-chip cookies in the oven. And was in the process of mixing batter for brownies. “Of all the things I could make you, you want cookies and brownies. Are you secretly five years old?”

He chuckled from his spot across the room from her. “What can I say? I guess I have a sweet tooth.” She playfully rolled her eyes at him. “I mean I did chose you.”

“You’ll say anything to get yourself laid tonight won’t you?”

“Damn. You caught me.” He shrugged.

“Not happening buddy. You can’t shake up your brain anymore tonight. Sorry.”

Hour Four

“Staring at them isn’t going to make them cool down any fucking faster Bill.” She shouted from the living room. The clock on the VCR player read 1:02. Billy was in the kitchen, standing above the brownies, waiting for them to cool down.

“Please can I just eat them though?” He whined at her, still staring at the baked goods.

She sighed. “Do you not value your tongue?”

“Do you not value my tongue?” He grinned back at her.

“Gross.” She rolled her eyes, laughing at him. “It’s ultimately your loss, not mine.”

Within a few minutes Billy and Y/N were sitting on the couch, a plate of brownies and a plate of cookies between them. Billy took a bite of his third brownie. “Let’s talk about stuff, stuff we never talked about before.” Y/N was slightly taken aback by this suggestion, as her and Billy had began as a strictly-sex couple.

She swallowed her bite of cookie. “Um, yeah. Yeah let’s talk.”

Hour Five

She quickly glanced at the clock, 2:00. She and Billy had covered most of the basic topics. Favorites: colors, bands, movies, grade. Growing up in California, versus Indiana. Y/N told Billy all about her father and mother, and her extended family. “You don’t have to tell me about your family Billy.” She looked up at him softly.

“No. It’s okay. It’s good to talk about this stuff sometimes.” He sighed, preparing himself. For the remainder of hour five Billy opened up to Y/N about his mother, his father, and how he didn’t always hate his life.

Hour Six

“She was a shitty person, but she was the only person I’ve ever actually loved.” The clock now read 3:11. “Before you.” The last sentence was whispered.

“What?” Y/N almost threw the cookie in her hand. She gripped Billy’s arm. “Billy? What did you just say?”

“The only two people I’ve ever loved in my life are my mother... and you.” He swallowed. Deep inside he knew he shouldn’t have said that. It was too soon. Only just six hours before had they been called boyfriend and girlfriend for the first time, and now he loved her? He ripped his arm from her grasp. “Shit. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”

He began to pace around the room. “Billy. Billy. No. No. You’re fine. It’s fine.” He stopped, staring at her. “Billy I love you too. I have. For awhile now, but I didn’t want to tell you because we were afraid to label this- whatever we have. Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry for having feelings.”

She offered him a small smile. Billy felt as if he would just explode right there. His heart accompanied his head with a fierce throbbing. His face began to hurt from smiling so much. He bent down, holding her in his arms. Everything finally felt right. Everything was right.

The two spent the remaining time in hour six, cleaning the dishes from their baking excursion, and putting the rest of the cookies and brownies into plastic containers.

Hour Seven

Billy was beginning to get tired, despite there still being two more hours until he was approved to sleep. The clock in the kitchen read 4:04. Billy had settled himself into Y/N’s bed, after choosing a movie for the two of them to watch. She turned all the lights off in the living room and made her way into her room. “Hey!” She picked up a random sock and threw it at him. “Eyes open buddy, we have two more hours left!” He jumped up, startled.

He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry doll, tired.” He yawned. She smiled at him, climbing into the bed next to him. “I picked ‘Grease’. I knew you’d like it.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she snuggled into his side.

“How thoughtful of you.” She chuckled. “Are you sure you’re ready to watch ‘Grease’ for the foreseeable future?”

“It’s not that bad of a movie. I could deal for a few years.” He intently watched as the two friend groups sang about each other.

The rest of the hour went by uneventfully as the two of them enjoyed the movie, and each other’s company.

Hour Eight

The clock on the VCR in Y/N’s room read 5:55. “Hey buddy.” Y/N nudged Billy’s ribs. “You can sleep now.” She yawned at him. He sighed in relief, with half-closed eyes. He leaned over, kissing her gently on the forehead before settling down into the mattress. No sooner had she uttered the word “can”, had he been asleep. “Goodnight.” She smiled at him.

Before finally falling asleep, she propped herself up on her elbow, watching as the final scene of the movie illuminated his face. She had never seen Billy so at peace. Correction: she had never seen Billy at peace.

The night had started out fine, made a terribly wrong turn, and then, somehow ended up picture-perfect. Deep inside Y/N knew something would try and tear them apart, but for now, she would enjoy what she had.

Cuddling into the side of Billy, she sighed contently as the ending credits to the movie slowly drifted out of hearing.

[joonie-beanie]

Oh, Baby (Namjoon x Reader) Pt. 20 (Final)

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [Pt 7] [Pt 8] [Pt 9] [Pt 10] [Pt 11] [Pt 12] [Pt 13] [Pt 14] [Pt 15] [Pt 16] [Pt 17] [Pt 18] [Pt 19]

Pairing: Namjoon/RM x Reader Rating: M Genre: Smut/Mafia-ish AU

Words: 6,324

Summary: You were only supposed to have seen him twice. Only twice, no more, but now you’re getting dragged into situations you never wished for and Namjoon just keep showing up.

A/N: I’ll keep my somewhat sentimental Author’s Note for the end. For now, read on, and I hope you all enjoy~

“Good evening, and welcome to the 5 o’clock news. Tonight, we’ll be running a special news report on the two murders that occurred 5 days ago, at Jeon Enterprise’s Seoul location.”

You and Jungkook pause, looking up at the television hanging on the wall of the student lounge. Around you, others pause in their studying, attention turning to the male newscaster on the screen.

“I’m sure as many of you have heard, the CEO and founder of Jeon Enterprises himself was one of the victims—the other being a previously prevalent figure in the mafia, a man known by the name Jaehyuk. The murders took place on the night of the Jeon’s annual charity ball, and according to the official police report which was finally released just last night, it seems that Jeon and Jaehyuk ended up being killed by each other’s parties.”

Jungkook meets your hesitant gaze—a look of should we get out of here?—but Jungkook simply shakes his head and turns his attention back down to the pile of Psychology homework on the table in front of you. After having missed nearly two weeks of class, the two of you have a lot to catch up on.

Simply wanting to get all this work done as soon as you can—you turn your attention away from the report and continue reading through the questions of the assignment you and Jungkook are currently working on.

“From what we know, Jeon was shot first, in his private suite up above the main ballroom area by one of Jaehyuk’s subordinates, who had snuck into the ball along with him. When a staff member of the event heard the fired shot, this staff member pulled the fire alarm in hopes that everyone would evacuate the building and no one would be further injured.

“Following this, one of Jeon’s security staff found Jaehyuk attempting to escape through the rear exit—away from the main crowd—and Jaehyuk was forced to retreat back into the ballroom until, subsequently, the guard ended up firing two rounds when the man presented a gun and refused to be taken into custody.”

“What about Jaehyuk’s party? Someone shot Jeon, correct? Where did his men go?” another news reporter butts in, arms crossed and brows furrowed. The male summarizing the police report shuffles some papers around in his grasp.

“According to the guard who was later tracked down to give his statement, Jaehyuk’s men were not around when he found Jaehyuk attempting to leave the scene. His best guess was that Jaehyuk’s men bolted as soon as things started to take a turn for the worst.”

“Sounds like something the mafia would do,” a third personality speaks up, clearly more easy going than the other two. “Get the job done and abandon their boss to fend for himself.”

“Is the security guard the only account the police are going off of?”

“No, the police say their report is mostly based off what was observed by the staff member who pulled the fire alarm, and two other individuals who had been attending the party, and had been the last to leave the ballroom.”

“And who are these witnesses?”

Despite your effort to focus on the task at hand, you end up quickly reaching to grab your cellphone, which is splayed across the table beside your notes, as the screen flashes to life. A new notification—a text, to be precise.

You pause as you note the contact from which you’ve just received a message. Your heart goes through a small cycle of hope and dread—and then you finally open it.

“Due to the mafia involvement in this crime, as well as a request from Jeon Enterprises Board of Directors to keep their identities private, at the time we have no names or faces to put to the accounts this report is based off of.”

Your eyes scan the message—a simple two words, but tears well in your wide, surprised eyes, and you turn the device to face Jungkook. When he doesn’t notice, you reach over and pat his arm repeatedly, the boy looking at you, confused, until he notices that you’re holding up the message for him to read.

Min Yoongi:

He’s awake.

Jungkook’s eyes flit to you, and you both look shocked, but can’t help it when smiles break out across your faces.

Grabbing your papers, you both hurriedly begin packing your bags, and luckily the news report is interesting enough to keep all eyes from turning to the two kids who suddenly look like they’ve forgotten about their shift at work and are trying to haul ass.

“Speaking of witness accounts” the more easygoing personality speaks up. “I heard the camera footage from the hotel that night was destroyed, which is why the police are trusting these three witnesses so much.”

You and Jungkook stand up, grabbing your bags and you, your crutch, and bustle out of the study room—but the sound of the report follows you. It’s as if all of Seoul has tuned in to listen.

“Indeed, when returning to the hotel to retrieve the footage from the night of the crime, not only was the tape destroyed but a majority of the security hub, in whole, had been damaged to a nearly unrepairable state. Many believe this is likely where Jaehyuk’s men may have disappeared to—another possibility—but without the tapes we can’t say anything for sure. Right now, all we can do is trust in the words of the people who actually saw these events occur first-hand.”

“Seems suspicious to me,” the second, least convinced reporter grumbles, but the main reporter simply straightens out his papers again.

“Whatever you may think or feel, this is the official report the police have released to the public, and with two bodies identified, the witness accounts, and a request from a mourning family to simply let things be, this case has been closed.”

Jungkook hits the button for the elevator, taking your bag off of your shoulder and slinging it over his own. You nudge him with your hip, all smiles, and Jungkook can’t help but grin.

After a few seconds, the elevator arrives and the two of you step inside, descending down to the 1st floor of the building. When the double doors slide open, the report is still ongoing.

“However, speaking of the future of Jeon Enterprises, tonight Jeon Junghyun, the eldest son of the family, will be holding a public conference to explain the next stages of their business. Of course, all of us here at the station are praying for the mourning family, and wishing them well during any changes that may come their way.”

“Hey there, slow down,” Jungkook comments as you hobble ahead, a little reckless with how much weight you’re putting on your injured leg. “Jin hyung is gonna be pissed if we get there and you’re bleeding through the bandages. You know he’s not gonna let you leave later without checking on your wound.”

“Jungkook, I know I’m smiling right now, but I’m also this close--,” you lift your fingers and show him how they’re extremely close to touching, “—to crying too, so unless you want me to start sobbing in public, right here, and make you look like an abusive boyfriend or something of the sort, just let me be.”

Jungkook laughs, holding the door open for you as you both make your way outside.

“Don’t let Namjoon hyung hear you say that, he’ll beat my ass.”

At that, you laugh as well.

A minute later, having made it to the nearest parking lot, Jungkook pulls out his keys and unlocks his car—the tail lights flashing. After Jungkook’s brother had come up from Busan, he’d immediately greeted Jungkook with a hug and proceeded to grant him more freedom than his father had in years—which included the use of a car, so he would no longer need to be carted to and from school, like some kind of trapped child of royalty.

Jamming his keys into the ignition, Jungkook revs the car to life, carefully glancing around as he backs out of the spot. You, too, keep watch out the passenger window as he drives. It’s not that you don’t trust him, but simply that Jungkook hasn’t had much experience driving due to his father’s old-school ways.

Leaving campus grounds, the two of you venture into the main part of the city. Avoiding the skyscrapers and the hub of businesses at the city’s center, you instead stick near the edge of town, traversing the slightly congested streets until a familiar building comes into sight.

Jin’s apartment.

Pulling into a parking space, Jungkook turns the engine off and then glances over at you as his hand moves to undo his seatbelt. He can spot how anxious you are—and it’s not all negative—but it’s obvious that your emotions are being pulled in so many directions. However, he chooses to say nothing—at this point you just need to see him—so instead he simply steps out of the car and moves around to make sure you safely make it over the curb.

Side by side, the two of you make your way into the building, taking another elevator ride up to Jin’s floor. Jungkook’s the one who knocks on the door, and you take a deep breath which fails to help calm you.

After a few seconds, the handle twists and the door is pulled open. Jin, a medical mask draped around his neck, smiles at you both.

“That was quick. Yoongi said that he’d text you as he was leaving, but that was seriously fast. Are you sure you didn’t see him on your way out?”

“Haha, hyung, always so full of jokes,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and Jin laughs at himself, motioning you both inside. You shed your shoes in the doorway, and then pause, eyes turning up to the doctor. Feeling your stare, Jin blinks and turns his attention to you.

“Do I need to step into some kind of disinfectant chamber first? If I bring outside diseases in will he die within minutes?”

Jin hides his smile behind his hand.

“Like I’ve told you already—he’s stable. He came out of his coma about 20 hours ago, but I had to make sure his wound and vitals were alright before letting anyone know.”

“Wait, so you’re saying he’s already been awake for almost a day?!” you say in surprise, and Jin holds up his hands.

“Things can change sometimes, I didn’t want to make a false announcement and have you all on my doorstep only for there to be more bad news.”

“I guess that’s understandable,” Jungkook mumbles considerately, and Jin huffs. He poses his hands on his hips, looking down at you both.

“Let me remind you, he’ll still need to rest for a while. He’s not 100%. He’ll need therapy for his right arm, and may never have the same mobility in it again. Chronic back problems, blood clots, finger numbness…these are all possibilities with this kind of injury,” Jin explains, and then pauses when he sees your and Jungkook’s faces falling.

“But…the important part is that he’s alive, and he’ll be fine otherwise. There’s no longer any immediate threat to his life.”

At that, the two of you sigh with relief and Jin smiles fondly, lifting a hand to card it through his hair.

“He should still be awake, if you want to go in and see him.”

“Can I?” you ask, hopeful and nervous at the same time. Leaning onto your crutch, you glance over at Jungkook. He shrugs, throwing his hands behind his head.

“You need some time alone with him, and I’ve got an hour or two left before I need to leave. Don’t worry about me, I can talk to him when you’re done making-out, or whatever.”

You blush, reaching over to smack him. He laughs, and Jin does too, until he suddenly pauses, eyes turning serious.

“Ok, but really,” he says, leaning forward and sternly putting a hand on your shoulder. “I know how he is—but he can’t have sex or do any strenuous activities for a while longer yet, so--!”

“Oh my god! I hate you guys!” you blush, ducking down and moving past them. “He just woke up from a 4 day coma, all I want to do is make sure I’m not dreaming!”

“Just go,” Jin says, waving you away, and you huff but continue into his home. Familiar with Jin’s apartment by now, you weave through the living room and then turn down the hall, continuing forward until you’re stood in front of the closed door that Namjoon is currently behind.

Following the night of the ball, you’d awoken to Jungkook’s sullen face, and he had explained to you exactly as Jin had explained to him. Namjoon had survived surgery to remove the bullet, but due to the delay of immediate treatment, the trauma had exceeded the amount his body could handle, and he had fallen into a coma.

Jin had explained that the chances of him never waking up were very small, and more than likely he would naturally wake up from it in a few days, once his body had begun to heal from the wound. This news, to say the least, had been bitter sweet. Namjoon was ok, but…not exactly.

Luckily, to all of your relief, as the days passed Jin had reported seeing improvements in his condition, and finally after 4 days he’d woke up. Still injured, still needing more treatment, but alive, and that’s what mattered.

Biting your lip, your eyes wander down to the handle of the door, and you hesitate to turn it. Sure, you want nothing more right now than to rush inside and confirm with your own eyes that Namjoon is alright. The last time you’d seen him he’d been surrounded by beeping medical equipment helping to keep him alive, and now…

Now…

“Y/N?” you hear him call, and you freeze, startled. “You’re there, right? I can basically sense your anxiousness,” he chuckles softly. “But…I’m okay. You can come in.”

Taking a deep breath, you reach forward and grip the handle, pushing the door openly slowly. In the white sheeted bed, Namjoon is sat up, blonde hair black at the roots, the right side of his bare chest wrapped with fresh dressings.

You meet his eyes, and relief floods you. Tears tickle your lashes as they threaten to overflow, and Namjoon smiles at you fondly, however—

His eyes move down as he spots your crutch, and then the leg that you’re keeping the weight off of. Smile dropping, he looks up at you again, hand raising to point at the injury.

“What’s that?”

You blink. “What’s…what?” you look down at your leg, which had been injured the night of the ball. “Did you…not…know?”

Namjoon scowls, sitting up straighter as he attempts to yell over your shoulder.

“WAS THIS SOMETHING JIN SHOULD’VE TOLD ME ABOUT BUT CHOSE NOT TO?!”

Jin’s response is immediate and full of sarcasm.

“SORRY I WAS TRYING TO LOOK OUT FOR MY PATIENTS HEALTH AND NOT TELL HIM ABOUT A MINOR INJURY HIS GIRLFRIEND GOT BECAUSE IF I DID I KNOW THAT HIS BLOOD PRESSURE WOULD SKYROCKET.”

Rolling your eyes, before Namjoon can think of anything to shout back, you reach behind you and shut the door. When you turn around, Namjoon is pouting. You breathe a laugh.

“What’s with that face?”

Sighing, Namjoon raises his good arm, as if waiting for you to walk up and hug him. His soft side makes your cheeks flush happily, and you limp forward, gently sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around him. The hug is almost feather light, but you don’t want to risk messing up any of his healing wounds.

“Are you okay?” he asks you when you lift your palm to cup his cheek. Smiling, you shake your head.

“Compared to what you went through my injury is nothing, Namjoon.”

“Still,” he frowns, placing his hand on your thigh and looking down at your leg. “What happened?”

You sigh. “After you were shot by Jeon, we all went back to the ballroom, and when our guard was down Jaehyuk woke up. He tried to shoot you when he saw you were already injured, so I yelled out, and I guess he redirected his anger towards me. I just got grazed!” you quickly add in when you see his face darken. Huffing, you smack his thigh, and he jumps in surprise.

“Jaehyuk is already dead, you idiot. Don’t go getting all angry planning your revenge or whatever.”

“The guy fucking held you captive for a week and then shot you, I’m allowed to be mad at him, even if he’s dead, okay?” Namjoon huffs, and you roll your eyes again, but nonetheless stroke his cheek and lean up to kiss him.

Your eyes shut, and Namjoon raises his good arm, his palm cradling your jaw as he deepens the kiss. There’s no sense of demand, no want to drag the gesture further or deeper. It simply is a kiss shared between two people who at the moment feel nothing but love, and relief.

“Are you actually okay?” he whispers against your lips, thumb stroking your skin as he pulls back, and you frown.

“I…I’m fine. I just…want to get away from everything that happened last week, that’s all.”

“I understand,” Namjoon nods, and then sighs. He angles his head back, eyes locking on the ceiling.

“I also kind of…understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. I thought that…you know, after the last ‘date’ we had that I could make it work—that we could make it work—but…of course, as soon as I’d thought that you’d been kidnapped. This is all my fault. I know it, and I’m pretty sure you know it too. I want to protect you with all of my power, from now on, but I…I don’t know what will happen. I can’t promise that—”

“Hey,” you interrupt, placing your hand atop his own. He glances down, watching as your fingers intertwine with his, and then looks up to see your kind smile.

“I haven’t given up on you yet, Kim Namjoon…,” you squeeze his hand, eyes turning slightly sad. “Since the beginning of all of this…it’s been…a rocky ride, hasn’t it? But…I can’t say I regret any of it. Of course I never wanted to be shot, and kidnapped and dragged into all of this, but along the way I made friends, and I met you, and fell for you and…you risked your life trying to get me back. You…didn’t have to do that, Namjoon…”

“I really did,” he responds, lips pressing to the crown of your hair as you hunch over, shoulder shaking as you attempt to fight off the tears that continue to flow whenever you think about your fresh wounds.

“There was absolutely no way…no way in hell that I would’ve just let you go like that. I was prepared to die that night if I had to, but I’m honestly glad I got off with just a bullet wound and a short comatose…imagine dying and never getting to see your cute face again, oh man.”

“You’re outrageous,” you sniffle, free hand lifting to wipe at your eyes and nose, and Namjoon smiles.

“So…are we still giving us a chance then? And don’t say yes because you feel obligated since I came to rescue you, or something like that. I’m a changed man—no longer about that petty love. I want the real thing, ya know?”

“I fucking hate you, just shut up already,” you laugh, and Namjoon decides that kissing you again is the only way to properly get himself to stay quiet.

3 hours later, in a conference hall within the same building the crime had occurred, Jeon Junghyun steps up to a podium, hundreds of reporters lining the room.

Off to his side is his little brother, Jeon Jungkook, and a few other executives from their company. All have their arms politely crossed in front of them, faces void of emotion, and as Junghyun adjusts the microphone, the entire room hushes.

Glancing up, a small smile breaks out on his handsome face.

“This is a little strange, isn’t it? You’ll have to forgive me if I say something unusual, typically it’s my father that handles these kinds of things.”

A few people laugh before realizing why it is his father isn’t around anymore, and the laughter quickly dies.

“No, it’s okay,” Junghyun says, “it’s important to find humor in things and to be able smile at during times like this. While our family and company may be mourning the loss of a CEO, partner, and father, we plan to continue moving on and bettering ourselves in the best way we can.

“That being said,” he shuffles some papers around, “today I have chosen to hold this press conference, with the main intent being to inform the public of what our company will be doing next, following this terrible occurrence.

“Succeeding the dead of my father, and the realization that he may have been tied to the mafia in some way, which resulted in his untimely death, our company plans to continue digging and making sure to rid any illegal connections and ties that had been crafted due to my father, without any of the rest of us having been aware. This will likely be a timely process, but in order to regain the trust of the public and our stakeholders, as the new CEO of the company I promise to absolutely do my best to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. Our company seems to have strayed from our beliefs without my knowledge, but with my father’s passing comes the opening for a multitude of changes, and as a company we plan to make the best of this opportunity.

“For now, seeing as we are still grieving the recent loss, I don’t have any major progress to report. Our company and its employees will be taking a short time more to mourn before returning to our regular business. Once that occurs, a team will be put together to locate and crack down on any illegal activities that may be tied to our business. With all of this being said, I have no other news to report.”

Immediately hands fly into the air, reporters shouting questions at the new, young CEO of the company. A member of Junghyun’s team steps up, asking calmly for reporters to quiet down, and stating that Junghyun will answer only a handful of questions before leaving.

Off to the side, Jungkook watches with silent admiration as his brother handles the press and their questions better than he ever could. While Junghyun was originally the heir to the company as the eldest son, due to some ethical differences between him and his father, Junghyun had been moved to handle the Busan branch, with the title of heir being passed to Jungkook—the son still at home, and still at Jeon’s mercy to shape into the ideal child.

To both Jungkook and Junghyun’s relief—having had a fairly good relationship their entire life—Jungkook ended up having a spirit and a defiant personality perhaps ever stronger than Junghyun, which left their father unable to brainwash either one of his sons into being the perfect heir.

As soon as Jungkook had learned of his father’s betrayal of Namjoon, and had begun scheming with Namjoon’s crew to rescue you, he’d brought up the idea of contacting his older brother. Also opposing of his father’s reign, Junghyun had agreed to take care of the aftermath so long as their father ended up being killed on that night.

While things hadn’t gone exactly as planned, it was nothing Junghyun couldn’t handle, and he’d kept his promise—taking care of the security tapes, paying off guards to act a part in the lie you’d told the police, and keeping your, Hoseok, and Jungkook’s names away from the press. He never mentioned the possibility of Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung, or Jimin being at the ball. He had tied up any loose ends, and somehow managed to keep suspicion low at the same time.

If not for his brother, Jungkook’s not sure where he’d be right now. Or any of you, for that matter.

“Guess I’ll have to get used to that more,” Junghyun sighs as he steps into the elevator alongside Jungkook. It’s just the two of them, the press conference having ended a short time ago.

Jungkook watches his brother as the elder loosens his tie.

“You never did like public speaking, did you?”

“Mostly because I never got to say what I wanted when dad was around,” Junghyun mumbles, and then pauses, staring a Jungkook with squinted eyes.

“I figured you don’t care, but…you’re not like…secretly super upset by dad dying and me talking shit about him, are you?”

Jungkook actually snorts. “I was the one who watched him get shot. And if you don’t recall, the last thing he did before dying was beat me and disown me, so.”

“Ahh, that’s right. Truly an asshole until his last dying breath.”

When the elevator arrives on the top floor, the two step out together and head into the penthouse. However, as they kick their shoes off on the landing, Junghyun hums thoughtfully.

“How’s Namjoon doing?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention it, with the conference going on and everything, but he woke up from his coma yesterday,” Jungkook informs him. “I guess he’ll need some physical therapy to get his shoulder and arm back in working order, but other than that Jin hyung says he’s doing well.”

“That’s good. You should give me his number soon, so I can contact him. Once he’s back in commission I’m thinking about asking him for a partnership.”

Jungkook almost falls on his face. “Didn’t you just say downstairs that you plan to revamp the company and cut all ties with the mafia?!”

Junghyun blinks innocently, posing a hand on his hip and turning to face his younger brother.

“I do plan to do that, but I also know without the underhanded method dad has been using for years, our business would be in a bit of a pinch. So, we weed out all the illegal partnerships, cut ties, and then once the public has commended us for our efforts, we give all our business to Namjoon instead. After all, he saved you, and your friend, right? The girl I met when I arrived in Seoul? Dad betrayed him, and I’m sure Namjoon will lose business if anyone finds out he’s been injured, so I figure forming a partnership with him will be in both of our best interests.”

“Oh my god…you…,” Jungkook says, stunned. His brother, in the end, is just as conniving as his father. At least this time Jeon Enterprises and RM Investment Corporation will finally be on the same side.

3 months later

Namjoon has you up on the kitchen counter of his apartment, panties on the floor and his face between your thighs when your phone begins ringing. You groan in disappointment, the fingers you have tangled in his now-brown hair tugging at his roots, asking him to let up so you can answer the call.

However, Namjoon only reaches around you and takes a handful of your ass in both his palms, dragging you farther forward so he can keep your clit trapped against his mouth. You moan, gripping his hair tighter as your orgasm inches closer and closer. You don’t want him to stop either, but you may need to take this call.

“Babe, it could be Yoongi,” you breathe shakily, pleading with him, and with a sigh Namjoon loosens his grip on you and pulls back. He licks his wet lips, dark eyes staring up at you and hair handsomely disheveled. Your pussy throbs at the sight of him, and you really don’t want to get up to take this call, but—

With the number of rings allotted before the call goes to voicemail quickly approaching, you hop off the counter and bustle towards where your phone is resting on the kitchen table.

“Hello?” you answer, a little breathless, and you smooth the apron you’re wearing down against the front of your thighs.

There’s the sound a car door slamming followed by a small curse. You blink, worry filling your chest.

“Yoongi oppa?”

“Oh, you picked up. Thank god.”

The car starts up, and the tires squeal a little as Yoongi races away from where he had been parked.

“I need you to remind me where it is I’m supposed to drop this package for Junghyun. I’m not familiar with their Busan locations yet, and I accidentally left my papers at Minnie’s apartment.”

“Cute,” you comment, and you almost hear Yoongi roll his eyes.

“If you could hurry up that’d be nice too,” he speaks as you move to kitchen island counter, where multiple business papers are scattered over the surface. “The dumbass security guards Junghyun sent with me bitched out before they got the entire shipment, so I had to sneak back into warehouse and grab the last box. Unfortunately, another company was moving in their own shit as I was there, and, long story short, they saw me. I don’t know if they’re coming after me or not yet, but I’d just like to get the fuck out of here.”

“I got you…,” you mumble, trapping your phone between your shoulder and ear as you quickly sort between the documents. As you do so, Namjoon quietly sneaks up behind you, and when his hands grip your ass tightly, you accidentally gasp into the receiver.

There’s a beat of silence on the line as your cheeks flush, and Yoongi realizes what’s going on.

“Were you and Namjoon having sex when I called?” He almost groans, scowling disdainfully at his phone. “Seriously, Jin only told him 2 weeks ago that his wounds were finally healed enough for him to start having sex again. Have you gone to class at all since then?”

“Of course I have!” you respond, embarrassed, and try to press your thighs together as Namjoon’s hand moves to cup your pussy, his lips pressing soft kisses against your neck and shoulders. Your bite your lip to keep from moaning as two of his fingers slide into your soaking walls.

“Here I f-found—stop it, oh my god—I found the address, can you pull it up on GPS?”

Yoongi pulls away from his phone, squinting at his screen, and clicks on the speaker button before moving to open up his GPS app.

“Can you put me on speaker?”

“Y-Yep,” you stutter, leaning your elbows forward to rest against the counter top. Behind you, Namjoon grins, continuing to fuck his fingers into you.

Yoongi sighs, peeved.

“Namjoon…I know…the last 3 months have been hard for you…but while I’m trying to get directions from your girlfriend on an assignment I’m doing on your behalf, can you maybe like…chill, for two fucking minutes.”

The only response Namjoon gives him a noncommittal hum, and Yoongi gives up.

“Y/N, the address please.”

You tell him hurriedly, listening as Yoongi punches the numbers and letters into his phone and confirms that it’s a legitimate address.

“Thanks, I’ll let you two get back to it.”

“This is all because of Namjoon, not me--,” you begin to say when all of the sudden Namjoon reaches his free hand past you and presses the ‘End Call’ button with a simple, “bye hyung!”

With that taken care of, Namjoon immediately gets back to what he’d been doing before. His hand slips beneath your apron, moving to fondle one of your breasts. He tugs and pinches at your taut nipple for a short while, soaking in the sounds you make for him, until suddenly both of his hands leave you. Instead, he begins pressing kisses to the curve of your spine, and you hear him rustling with the belt on his jeans.

“Why can’t you just control yourself for 3 minutes,” you laugh, resting your cheek against the cool tile of the tall island. Namjoon grabs your hips, canting them backwards, and you feel the head of his cock rub between your folds. “It’s not like you didn’t orgasm for 3 months, I gave you handjobs and blowjobs…”

“It’s so not the same,” he says indignantly, groaning as he pushes his cock between your walls. “Besides it’s not like Yoongi cares—just consider this payback for we walked in to find him and Jimin—”

“You’re so petty,” you interrupt him, but reach one of your hands back, grabbing onto his forearm. “Anyway, stop talking and just fuck me already.”

“Your wish is my command, babe,” he grins, and the reaches forward, shoving your hips back against him. He starts off at a moderate pace, listening as you moan at every thrust. You brace yourself up on your forearms, pressing your ass back to meet him half way, and Namjoon curses.

“Fuck you have no idea how hard I got just from eating you out,” he growls, and you gasp when he suddenly loops an arm around your torso, just beneath your breasts. His other hand lifts to your neck, fingers curling around it and pressing into the spots he knows will make your head light and pussy throb.

“N-Namjoon,” you moan as you’re forced to arch your spine, at his complete mercy as the new position simply allows him to plow up into you. And he takes full advantage, rattling your body with each jolt of his hips. Your mind begins to go white with bliss, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting in a moan that isn’t quite vocalized.

Namjoon feels your pulse racing against his fingertips, and your pussy tightens around him. The sensation causes him to groan, his orgasm, so, so close, and he leans forward until his lips caress the shell of your ear.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?”

“C-Can I?” you stutter, head swimming as your pleasure spikes, and Namjoon grunts in affirmation, his mouth sinking down to the crook of your neck.

“Yes, cum now. I’m right there,” he admits, teeth nipping your flesh, and with a broken moan your orgasm hits you. Your walls pulse around his throbbing cock, and Namjoon hisses, his seed spilling into you as his fingers fall from around your neck.

Sated, warm breaths fill the room, and Namjoon brings both his arms up to hug you from behind. His lips press small kisses behind your ear, and you giggle.

Wiggling in his hold, you turn to face him, and move your arms to drape around his neck. You smile at him fondly, cheeks flushed.

“I love you,” you say, and Namjoon’s heart flutters. Three words he never gets tired of hearing from you.

Leaning down, he kisses you properly.

“I love you too, babe.”

At that moment, again, your cellphone buzzes. This time it’s a text message, however, and from Jungkook nonetheless. Without opening it, you already know what it’s about.

“Ah! I’m late!” you hiss and bolt for the bedroom, Namjoon shamelessly watching your ass as you run out of the kitchen. “This is all your fault!”

“Mine?” he quotes, moving to lightly clean himself up before he pulls his pants back over his legs.

“Yes, yours! I’m supposed to be downstairs right now so I can meet Jungkook and goo to the study group on campus with him!”

“Oh, that’s tonight?” he wonders aloud, and reaches over to check the date on the home screen of your phone. “Huh. I guess it is.”

“Asshole,” you grumble, stumbling out of the bedroom now dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, your backpack flung over one shoulder. You stop in the kitchen to snatch up your phone, kissing Namjoon on the cheek.

“Your punishment is cleaning the dishes by yourself. I should be home by 10.”

“Wow, harsh,” he pouts, turning to watch you as you slide to the entryway and force your shoes onto your feet. You laugh.

“You’ll survive~ You big baby.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and then remembers something.

“Jimin may be over when you get back. He said something about dropping off a report and planning a move, or something like that.”

“No Hobi or Taehyung?”

“Tonight is the night Hoseok typically goes out drinking with Jin. And Taehyung isn’t back from Mokpo yet.”

“Ah, that’s right. Well, if I don’t see him tell Jimin I said hi,” you respond, and with one last smile in Namjoon’s direction you turn and open the front door. It slowly creeks closed behind you, and Namjoon leans back against the counter, eyes wandering to the patch of white ceiling above his head.

Never in his life did Namjoon imagine he would reach a point of feeling so happy, and fulfilled like he does now. What had started out as a misunderstanding and a coincidental second meeting had turned into series of events that had inflicted upon Namjoon an array of emotions he had never expected to feel. Confusion, anger, sadness, relief…you had gone through so much no thanks to meeting him, yet here you were, months down the line, in the beginning stages of sharing your life together.

His enemies had become his friends. His business was busier than ever, and despite the lifelong pain that would continue to accompany his healing wound, it was all worth.

“Oh, baby,” he sighs, contentment soaking into the fiber of his very being as he imagines your cute face within is mind, and he smiles.

Definitely, definitely worth it.

 ~おしまい~

Date Started: January 22, 2016

Date Ended: January 18, 2018

Total Word Count: 84,943

A/N: Hey, thank you guys all so much for taking the time to read this series. A lot changed since I started writing it. Oh, Baby started as a one-shot that turned into a series solely based on the fact that so many people asked for there to be more. I had my ups and down with the series--there were periods where I didn’t update it for a long time--but I made it to 20 chapters, like I originally intended, and hopefully you guys enjoyed them all :’)

Officially, this is the last chapter of Oh, Baby. If there are questions you have, or loose ends that you want answers to, feel free to send me an ask! I’d be happy to answer any questions about the series that come my way. So don’t hesitate to ask! :) (I also made a Q&A post with some ideas of questions to ask, in case you’re not sure what to say, but want to know more ^^)

Again, thank you all so much. I hope you enjoyed it.

[romanssippycup]

Undeniably Important Chapter 6: The Outfit War Part 1

*evil smirk*

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5

10:48 am

Once Thomas and the two other aspects materialized in Thomas's room, Princey was still trying to finish the Mulan song he had started in the mind palace.

"...to defeat! The H-"

"Not right now Princey." Thomas interrupted him.

"Thank you Thomas." Anxiety gritted his teeth.

"Oh, you just don't like the fact that soon, you will be singing them with me." Princey flashed a toothy grin at Anxiety who just ignored him and looked at Thomas.

Thomas clasped his hands together. "Okay, I was just going to have you guys pick out one outfit each and have me choose between them. But because I find this situation incredibly amusing, I'm going to make this contest into a bigger deal." Thomas smirked at both traits.

"Oh great...more rules." Anxiety rolled his eyes, slightly wondering if he should back down now while he still had a chance.

"Oh yes! I'm glad you like my idea Thomas." Roman threw a sh*t eating grin Anxiety's way only making the darker trait more nervous than he was before.

"Okay so this is how it's gonna go down. Both of you will pick out three outfits from my closet and you will divide them up equally between the following three categories: The outfit I would definitely wear, the outfit I might wear, and the outfit I most definitely won't wear. You both have ten minutes to choose from the variety of clothes that I have in my wardrobe. You also can't use the same articles of clothing for multiple outfits. In other words, first grab first serve."

Anxiety shrugged. "Sounds legit."

Roman agreed. "Fair enough."

"However, I won't know which outfit falls under which category so it will be completely random. Also-"

Logan suddenly materialized in the room bearing a coat rack with six hooks, parchment tape, and a Sharpie. "I am sorry, but I couldn't help but notice how unorganized this contest was." Logan looked at Thomas, set down the coat hanger in the middle of the room, and added six outfit hangers to each hook.

"Wha-well...Logan does have a point. This whole 'Outfit war' could be more organized." Thomas sided with Logan.

Anxiety snickered at Logan's remark while Roman felt slightly violated.

"Um. Excuse me Logan, but I helped Thomas make the rules. They are fool proof."

"They can't be fool proof if it was a fool that made them." Logan adjusted his glasses towards a very offended Roman.

"Ooooh!!!" Thomas covered his mouth in surprise and Anxiety pulled up an air horn app on his phone and fired it about 10 times.

"Besides, in every competition there is always a third party ensuring both sides stay within the guidelines." Logan straightened his tie and turned to Thomas. "Thomas. May I add in some rules?"

"Sure Logan. Hit me with what ya got."

"Alright. The total number of outfits that will be hanging on this rack are six. Three for both of you. On the inside of each shirt, you will put a piece of tape with your name on it and what category the outfit falls into as explained by Thomas earlier. These pieces of tape must be hidden from view, to make sure that identities are kept secret." Logan put the roll of tape and Sharpe on one of thomas's tables.

"Um...name?" Anxiety looked at Logan.

"Just put something on the tape so that we can recognise its your outfit." Logan assured Anxiety.

Princey huffed. "Fine. I guess that is more organized."

"Thank you Roman." Logan nodded at Roman's semi-approval. "Once your ten minutes is up, I will re enter the room and switch up the order of the outfits, so that when Thomas walks in, he will have no idea which outfit is whose. He will only be allowed to look at them until he decides on a winning outfit. Then he will take said outfit off of the hook and-"

"Yeah yeah. We get it Logan. No need to go through every little detail. Can we get on with it?" Anxiety cut Logic off, wanting this whole challenge to be over already.

"I-uhm...ahem...if you insist." Logan regained his composure and walked towards the door. "Princey. May I have a stop watch please?"

Roman materialized a small stopwatch in his hand and tossed it to Logan. Logan caught it swiftly. "Thank you."

Thomas nodded and walked towards the door with Logan. "Remember. One outfit per category. Oh! And one more last minute rule."

Anxiety and Princey exchanged small worried glances.

"If I pick an outfit that is labeled as "the outfit that I would definitely not choose", the other aspect automatically wins." Thomas grinned and saluted to them. "Good luck."

Logan held the stopwatch in his hands. "Right now it is currently 10:52 am. Counting down from 3. Ready?" He glanced at the other two traits who looked as if they were about to run a 100 meter dash to the closet. They looked at him back as if to say "duh".

Logan rolled his eyes and counted down rather quickly. "3. 2. 1. Begin!" He started his stopwatch.

Before the rivaling aspects could reach the closet, Thomas and Logan had quickly left the room and closed the door.

10:54 am.

Patton materialized into Thomas's apartment and stood right in front of the curtains like always. The surroundings were tense and a bit louder than normal, considering all the thumping and muffled shouting that was coming from upstairs. In front of him next to the banister stood Logan. He was busy jotting on his notepad, while Thomas to the right of him, sat on the couch being silent. Either they had not noticed his appearance or just didn't want to break the peace between them, unlike the warring pair upstairs.

Morality opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it when Logan looked up at him.

"Do you have something to say Morality?" Logan inquisited looking at Patton.

The cardigan-clad trait looked down sadly and shook his head.

"Are you sure?" Logan asked him for reassurance.

"Well...it's just...I don't like it when we fight. There's no reason for it. We are all part of Thomas. Can't we just get along?"

Logan was about to reply when Thomas interrupted singing a song. "Why can't we be friends!?"

Morality returned to his happy self and quickly joined him. "Why can't we be friends?"

Logan rolled his eyes. At least Morality wasn't sad anymore. He couldn't stand it whenever Morality did not act like himself. Granted, he didn't understand feelings, but he knew enough to know that if dad was happy, then everyone was 'happy'.

Logic was about to ask them to stop when a VERY loud thump from above silenced them all.

Patton, being the caring trait he is, ran upstairs and knocked on the door to Thomas's room. "You alright kiddos?!" Logan heard him yell from above. The responses of Anxiety and Roman were muffled by the door, the distance between them and where Logan was standing, but Patton's side of the conversation could be heard clearly.

"Yikes! Is everyone okay?"

More murmurs.

"Well alright then. Just make sure to clean up after yourself. Ahehehe!"

The next bout of murmurs seemed to form itself into a question.

"Okay I will." Patton turned from the door. "Logan!?"

"Yes Patton?" Logan called up to him.

"They want to know how much time they have left!"

Logan checked the stopwatch. "Five minutes."

"Five minutes!!" Patton repeated.

There were a couple more murmurs heard from behind the door. "Alright see you all later then!" Patton turned from the door and trotted back down the stairs back to his spot.

"What happened?" Thomas looked slightly worried.

"Your tall dresser just toppled over. No biggie. They said they'd clean up the mess."

Thomas groaned. "Ugh. They better."

Logan turned to Thomas slightly amused. "Remember Thomas, what you see happening now is only a mental projection of reality. If you were to 'snap' back into the real world, you would see that their outfit war had no effect on the current state of your room."

"Because all synthetic objects in the real world are only affected by what happens in the tangible realm?"

"Correct." Logan smiled.

"Welp! Now we wait." Morality interjected obviously excited about the results of the Outfit War.

2 minutes earlier...

"Roman? Roman. Roman! ROMAN! Watch out!"

THUD! Anxiety knew that the others heard the noise, because a worried pair of feet came running up the stairs. About five seconds earlier, a shirt that Roman needed was accidently flung onto the top of Thomas's tallest dresser. In an attempt to retrieve it, Roman climbed up the drawers, but his weight surpassed the leverage of the dresser causing it to tip over. Had Anxiety not yanked Roman off the dresser, the fanciful side may have been injured.

Anxiety let go of Roman as soon as the dresser fell down causing them both to wince from the sound it made. Before the dresser fell, the room was kept decently neat (contrary to popular belief), but now there was clothes everywhere. Both traits stared at each other in complete shock at what just happened.

The moment was cut short, however, when they heard a knock on the door.

Knock knock knock. "You alright kiddos?"

"Yeah. Thomas's tall dresser fell down." Anxiety answered as calmly as he could.

"Yikes! Is everyone ok?

"Yes. Somehow we are both alive." Roman brushed himself off and looked toward the door simultaneously facing away from Anxiety

"Well alright then. Just make sure to clean up after yourself. Ahehehe!"

"Yes. I will clean up the mess." Roman looked at the ground, his voice slightly dying off.

"Patton. Can you ask Logan how much time we have left?" Anxiety was still slightly shaking from the tense moment that had just occurred.

"Okay I will. Logan?

Logan's voice was barely heard.

"They want to know how much time they have left!"

The response was too muffled to decipher.

"Five minutes!!" Patton repeated for them.

"Really? Wow." Anxiety and Roman turned to look at the coat rack. Both of them had been very quick in selecting their outfits that they were on their last ones when the dresser fell. Knowing they both had some time, the once tense atmosphere loosened its grip on the muscles of the two sides.

"Have Logan come up when the five minutes have passed. We will both be ready." Roman spoke for himself and Anxiety.

"Alright see you all later then!" Patton's footsteps could be heard bounding back down the stairs confirming his leave.

For a moment, neither aspect could speak or move. Anxiety took the first step toward the dresser that had fallen and bent down to start cleaning the mess, but Roman stopped him.

"Wait." Anxiety froze, stood back up, and eyed Roman suspiciously.

Princey clapped his hands twice. Suddenly, all the objects and the dresser began to move on its own. Clothes flew through the air. The dresser stood back up. All objects that had been misplaced by the accident walked back to their original spot. It looked as if the dresser never fell in the first place.

"Ta-da! Bet you forgot I could do that." Roman stood proudly waiting for a response.

He didn't get one. Anxiety just walked over to the closet once more to find the combination of clothes he needed for his last outfit.

Roman's eyes lowered to the ground. He knew what he had to do, but he did not want to admit it. He bit his lip and clenched his fists as he fought himself in an attempt to swallow his pride.

He succeeded.

"Thank you...Anxiety."

Anxiety stopped dead in his tracks, still facing away from Roman. After a moment of pure silence, he replied.

"Don't mention it. You would have done the same."

Roman's gaze shifted to the dresser that fell. He imagined a similar scenario where the two sides' positions were reversed. A climbing Anxiety and him. Would he have done the same? Would he have cared enough about Anxiety to do the same? Replaying this reenactment in his mind twice brought him to the answer.

"You're right. I would have."

Had Roman been in front of Anxiety when he said those words, he would have seen the tiniest of smiles begin to form on the darker aspect's lips.

Taglist: @mewsicalmiss @here-to-vent @anonymous-snake @cup-of-blue @storytellerofuntoldlegends @cookieartcannon @thagrinbery @ts-sideblog @protecterofalltheaus @pasteries-and-portugal @justanotherpurplebutterfly @remmythepegasis @leesacrakon @kitsuneprideleader @fancifulfox @dolphin-squirrel @evilmuffin @petunia9402 @greymane902 @we-get-it-youre-adorable @withoutfandomsiamnothing @irrelevantbutfabulous @allmycopshowsarecancelled

[barbarashershey]

all i want for christmas

Author: @gilliankatic  [x] [x] Rating: T Series: x-files Pairing: mulder/scully

Mulder receives information from one of his confidential sources, the he-has-to-leave-now kind of information. The problem? It’s the holiday season and his relationship with Scully is on the rocks. And, what does William Scully want for Christmas? For his parents to be together.

It was well after midnight when Scully watched the headlights retreat through the window, the street light across the road streaking a fluorescent glow through the tinted glass. Her fingers toyed with the lace fabric of the curtain before allowing it to fall back to its respective place. With a sigh, Scully pulled her coat closer against her shivering frame and made her way towards the kitchen, where her now cool cup of tea sat lonely on the wooden countertop.

She started to wipe down the benches with a linen cloth. What was she going to tell William? He is going to be so disappointed that Mulder isn’t going to make it back in time for them all to open their presents together.

He’d promised that he’d be gone for - at the most - 2 weeks. Including Christmas.

So the days passed quickly with no contact from Mulder. Scully wasn’t surprised, not really, but she couldn’t stop the twinge of disappointment in her stomach stomping down on the butterflies when she closed her empty inbox.

Scully wasn’t the only one who was in a sullen mood, William had been moping about the house since she’d told him that Mulder had to leave for ‘an urgent business trip’ and she’d focused on putting all of her energy into keeping William’s spirits up. But his stubbornness was hereditary, refusing to smile or laugh, the corners of his mouth flickering upwards for a millisecond before drawing his eyebrows together into a scowl once again.

By the end of week one, Scully had resorted to putting on Christmas themed movies in the hopes that at least one of them would bring a smile to his face. Half-way through The Santa Clause, he started to nod off,  his forehead colliding with her arm and drooling onto the green fabric of the christmas jumper she was wearing.

She didn’t mind. It was Mulder’s afteral. She’d donned the material because it smelled like him and she missed him. The ugly print of a cartoon reindeer being abducted with a ufo hovering above it an odd comfort.

She smiled down at William, her stomach riddled in untangable knots of guilt and anger and worry. He mumbled against the crook of her elbow and she smiled softly. But mostly she felt an overwhelming amount of love for the little boy nestled against her.

Scully pressed a palm to the small of William’s shoulder until his body shifted and his head tilted back until he was leaning gently against the back of the couch. Now able to move more freely, she scooted forward and reached for the remote on the coffee table to mute the television. The screen was bright and painted the room in a bright blue hue.

Scully slowly stood and turned towards her sleeping son, she gently brushed a few strands of auburn hair away from his eyes. William was a heavy sleeper and didn’t seem affected by the gentle caress. After a moment Scully rested her knee on the edge of the couch, one arm sliding under his legs and the other craning his neck in support as she lifted him before re-adjusting his head to rest on her shoulder.

William mumbled in his sleep, one arm now wrapped around her neck, but other than that he was undisturbed by her moving him. Now all she had to was make it up those damn steps in her work heels, cursing Mulder - who usually was the one to carry their son to bed and cursing herself for not taking them off earlier. God, he’s heavy.

-

Early the next morning, on the Friday, William came bounding into the kitchen, nearly bowling over his grandmother just inside the archway.

“Careful, William!” Maggie chastises him.

Scully was taking a sip of her third cup of coffee, quirking her lips at William’s embarrassed and slightly bashful gaze. Maggie offered her hand to William asking him if he’d like to help her make some reindeer cookies and his face lit up for the first time since she’d broken the news to him about their changed Christmas plans.

She managed to do some last minute Christmas shopping, grabbing a few items that she’d forgotten to add to her list: mint jelly, the christmas star that had broken and a few items that she’d run out of: cards, cellophane and tape.

Later that night, after an hour of wrapping Scully had just placed a decorative bow on the meticulously wrapped present when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. She not-so-subtly slid the present under her bed, clearly in view when her duvet had been pulled up from the side of the bed. But, she couldn’t do much about it now that the door was creaking open.

The younger woman tucked a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised who it was.

“I thought you were the jolly man himself.” She said with a laugh.

Maggie shook her head, her lips twitching but not acknowledging the poor joke. Her eyes drifted to the foot of the bed where at least a dozen presents were wrapped in plain view from the now open doorway.

She clicked the door shut before making her way over to her daughter and motioning to the bed.

“May I?”

Scully raised an eyebrow, clearly baffled at her mother’s tentativeness.

“Uh… yeah of course.”

Scully moved the wrapping paper, scissors and tape aside so that Maggie could settle herself comfortably on the end of her bed.

She regarded her mother with a raised eyebrow, who was surveying her in a very similar demeanour.

“Is everything okay?” Scully asked slowly, “Where’s William?”

Maggie tugged on Scully’s arm when her daughter stood quickly, quite ready to run from the room and lay eyes on her son.

“He’s fine, Dana,” She tugged on her arm again, “William is sleeping,” and this time Scully allowed her to pull her back down on the edge of the bed.

“What’s going on?” Scully demanded.

Maggie cleared her throat before sliding her fingers into the front of her coat pocket and retrieving a small envelope and holding it out to her daughter. Scully hesitated, looking from the letter and back to her mother, confusion clouding her thoughts.

“He wrote a letter.”

“He? Mulder?!”

Scully turned the envelope over in her hands but at the very familiar chicken scratch writing, she felt a lump form in her throat: To Santa.

“Oh…” She breathed out.

“William wanted me to address it and send it to Santa.”

Turning the envelope back around in her hands, she slid her finger underneath the paper wing and opened it. The blue lined paper was folded over and Scully felt tears begin to prick at her eyes as she read hastily written words, smudges of pencil that showed clear evidence that quite a few tears had fallen whilst her son had written this.

She knew she shouldn’t read it but all parents read their kids letters to santa, right?

The tugging of her heartstrings told her otherwise.

santa.

my name is william scully and i am 7 years old

most kids ask for toys and stuff but all i want for christmas is

my dad to come home.

my mum has been sad and shes been crying, i heard her.

i don’t want her to be sad.

william

Scully felt a reassuring hand squeeze her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, she crumbled in on herself and covered her eyes, tears streaking black tracks down pale cheeks.

“It’s going to be okay, Dana.” Her mother soothed her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Scully hadn’t been able to sleep much that night, her mind repeating the words of the letter back to her over and over again. all i want for Christmas is from my dad to come home. She felt sick to her stomach. My mum has been sad and shes been crying. Children aren’t supposed to be worrying about these kinds of things.

She rolled over onto her side for what must of been the twentieth time since she climbed into bed and eyed her computer sitting on the hardwood desk in the corner.

This was gnawing away at her insides - she had to do something. Huffing out an exasperated sigh, she made a split-second decision.

Sitting albeit impatiently in her computer chair, she tapped her fingers against the desk as it began to hum to life, taking it’s sweet time to start up. Finally, finally, she was able to sign in and connect to the internet. She brought up her emails and not surprisingly there still wasn’t an email from Mulder.

Opening a new message, she began typing wildly, furiously, her frustration boiling over. If anybody looked at her now she wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam coming out of her ears.

I know you need to do this... to follow these leads that seem to almost always lead us nowhere. But William needs you, I need you.

Please come home,

Dana.

p.s: he asked santa to bring you home for christmas.

Scully’s fingers twitched above the keyboard while she read and re-read what she had wrote. It was short, straightforward and got to the point.

Her eyes darted to the corner of the computer screen to check the time: 3:08am. She cursed silently under her breath. It was late, that would have to do. She clicked the send button before she could dwell on it any longer.

-

The last few days leading up to Christmas were intense. She hadn’t heard back from Mulder and that had fuelled her worry and frustration to an intense 8 out of 10. She knew if something bad had happened to him that she would of heard about it by now, probably. But still, no amount of reasoning could get her to think logically when it came to Mulder.

So her emotions kept bouncing between worry and irritability concerning the man who held her heart.

On the Saturday, her mother’s Christmas dinner went off without a hitch, a few close relatives and their kids talking animatedly whilst Scully stared forlornly into her wine glass.

“How are you doing, Dana?” Father McCue asked.

Scully’s fingers traced the stem of her wine glass as she tried to piece together her thoughts well enough to form a coherent sentence. It was the holiday season, nobody wanted to know you’re not having a good time. You pasted on a smile, complimented the host and drank eggnog whilst playing asinine holiday themed games.

“I’m doing fine, thank you Father McCue,” She answered with a small smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

Scully raised the crystal to her lips and took a hearty sip of the red liquid before turning to focus her attention on Father McCue.

“How’s the church?”

The rest of the evening was spent in continual, meaningless, pointless conversations and Scully could feel it starting to take a toll on her. Usually having Mulder there as a buffer meant she could take breaks from the incessant chatter but at least she had William to check in on every now and again and that appeased the crawling ache in her chest.

It was Christmas Eve, finally.

She knew that when a tiny ball of excitement jumped up and down on her bed shrieking.

“It’s Chris’mas eve!!” William squealed, “Eve! Eve! Eve!” He chanted

Scully would of rolled her eyes if she wasn’t so pleased to see William with a wide smile on his lips and bright sparkling eyes filled with barely contained excitement. She had been worried for a moment there. Okay, maybe two moments.

And though, she knew that Mulder wouldn’t be turning up until at least Thursday she was happy that she got to spend the holidays with at least one of her two favourite boys in the world.

As William continued to bounce across her mattress, she flung the covers off and reached for the squirming seven year old and trapped him in a tight embrace.

“Noo!” He wailed, though the wide smile on his face proved otherwise.

Scully chuckled, pulling him down so that she could snuggle him close to her chest. He wiggled to try and get out of her embrace for a good 30 seconds before breathing out an exaggerated sigh and relaxing in her arms.

“What have you been inhaling this morning? A bowl of sugar?”

A figure walked through her open door way at that exact moment with a chuckle, “Might as well have.” Maggie pointed at her grandson who hid his face in the crook of Scully’s shoulder.

“He raided the Christmas cookies.”

Scully let out a faux gasp as though she were shocked to her very core.

“What?! Not the cookies!” She placed her palm against her forehead in mock shock, “What ever shall we do now?”

Maggie clucked her tongue at her daughter in disapproval when William giggled from the safety of Scully’s arms.

“Really, Dana? I suppose you don’t want coffee after all.”

Scully’s eyes widened at the slight threat in her mother’s words.

“I...I mean-” She sputtered as Maggie stood there with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised in amusement.

Scully’s eyes darted between her mother and the door to her bedroom. There was a pregnant pause and then- releasing her son she dashed towards the door with all the grace of a newborn fawn.

“He’s all yours!” She called as she stumbled through the doorway and made her escape to the kitchen.

Maggie rolled her eyes at her daughter’s child-like behaviour. “She spends too much time around your father.”

William laughed as he crawled underneath the covers, his grin half covered by the duvet.

Scully, William and Maggie spent most of the day re-making the cookies. Maggie kept a hawk-eye on her grandson the whole time, and then her daughter when she caught her sneaking William a cookie on the sly.

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she turned back to her tea and pretended that she hadn’t caught them with their hands in the cookie jar.

Maggie left Scully and William sometime after lunch to make her way to the afternoon Mass, so that she could deliver some of the treats that they’d made. She pressed a kiss to William’s head and squeezed her daughter’s hand before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Are you sure you don’t want to attend the Mass, Dana? I’m sure everybody would love to see you and William.” She prodded, concerned lines pulling between her brows.

“I’m sure.” She replied as William scurried off to his room.

Scully took a step closer towards her mother and spoke quieter, her voice almost a whisper.

“Really. It’s fine. You can go...thank you.” She said sincerely.

Maggie nodded, releasing the grip on Scully’s hands before reaching for the platters that were laid out on the table and making her way out the open doorway.

Scully leaned against the door-frame until the car disappeared from her sight and she let out a quiet breath that she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding in. She clicked the door shut and locked it, just in case, and made her way upstairs to check on William.

She didn’t feel as safe, as secure, when Mulder wasn’t around. She knew how to defend herself and protect her family - past circumstances have proven that. But, the comfort of having him near her felt like a different kind of security that she hadn’t even realised she needed - craved, until he wasn’t able to give that to her.

She dozed off on the couch in the living room for a few hours after having to replace some christmas lights that had started to short out - the room flickering inconsistently in fluorescent lights. She was fairly sure neither of them were epileptic but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Then, she was falling, falling and she couldn’t- no, she was drowning. She couldn’t breathe, the harsh force of the waves were pulling her under. She couldn’t breathe. Her foot got caught between two rocks - digging painfully into the skin of her heel, the waves were still pummelling down against her, she was shaking, shaking. She could hear William calling out to her…

Mum!

Her eyes fluttered shut and the darkness claimed her.

“Wake up!” Scully was still being shaken. “Mum! Wake up!” The voice repeated.

Her eyes shot open and she took a deep breath, as though she were being starved of oxygen. Her lungs were burning, her eyes were watering. She turned her head, eyes darting around the corners of the room to try and access her surroundings.

William’s wide concerned eyes were watching her, biting down on his thumb as he shifted from one foot to another.

She let out a breath. She was home.

William looked at her quizzically as he moved to sit on the corner of the couch.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly.

She forced a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes, tucking an errant strand behind her ear.

“I’m okay.”

His eyebrows raised as though he didn’t believe her.

“Really,” She attempted to reassure him, “It was just a bad dream.”

Scully pressed an open palm to the side of his face, her finger sweeping across his cheekbone before pressing her forehead against his. William nodded, his forehead gently nudging hers.

Pulling away from the warmth of her embrace, William laughed when Scully’s stomach grumbled.

“I think your tummy is trying to tell you something.”

Scully flashed him a grin, a laugh falling from her lips as well, “Yeah. I think so too.”

William set the table whilst Scully busied herself in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of red as she waited for the water on the stove to boil. She decided on peperonata pasta, it was quick and easy and they would be sitting down to eat in under 20 minutes.

She poured William a glass of water before settling down in her respective seat at the dinner table.

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

He’d set the table like he usually did - with 3 place sets. She bit down on her lip, averting her gaze from where Mulder usually sat down on her right side and took a heady sip of her drink.

Dinner was mostly silent, both Scully’s casting their gazes at the current absentees chair every now and again. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it didn’t feel like home. Something was missing. A very important something. A very important someone.

Scully cleared the table and filled the sink to get started on the washing up. She quickly darted to the lounge room to setup a movie for William to watch before returning to the kitchen.

She lost herself within the methodical pace of washing the dishes, it was calming in a way, she didn’t have to think too much. The same method over and over again. Dip, wash, rinse, repeat. Altering the style depending on the size.

Her mind started to wander. Where was Mulder, right now? Was he thinking of them? She looked out the window over the sink and gazed at the twinkling stars. Was he looking at the same stars she was at this very moment?

She shook her head. “Don’t be stupid” She muttered to herself.

Scully retrieved the plug from the sink and started to dry the dishes with a dish towel. She continued drying the dishes and put them away in the cabinet. She then started to wipe down the benches and the table, arranging the items that had been moved about during the day. There was a lot more of a mess than normal: flour in the cracks of the bench, coffee stains on the table, chocolate melted on the stove top.

Once Scully was happy with the end result, she made her way through the archway and towards the lounge room. She must of gotten caught up because it looked like William was nearly at the end of the movie she’d set up.

“Do you want a hot chocolate?” She asked, resting her arms against the back of the couch.

William’s eyes were glued to the screen, sitting right on the edge of his seat.

“What? Uh...no. I’m good. Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t contain the small smile from flickering across her lips.

“Don’t sit too close to the television.”

“I won’t.”

Scully went upstairs and started organising the presents into different sections. She had the presents that they would open at home, the presents she would be taking to her mother’s when she saw Bill, Tara and Matthew. Long distant relatives that she forgot to send greetings cards to. Her present for Skinner. Mulder’s present.

Her fingers traced the simple silver wrapping paper, fingers caressing the corners of the present as she looked for wear and tear marks. There weren’t any. She made a small noise of contentment before turning towards the greeting cards pile that she’d forgotten about.

So, maybe some of her relatives would be giving her the cold shoulder for the first few months of the year because she sent out late cards. She was used to that kind of treatment at work lately, anyway.

After an hour, her wrist started to throb and she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

She stood up quickly and made her way over just as the door opened, the hinges creaked as she held the door with her left hand and leaned against the door frame with her right, blocking most of her room from sight.

“Hey honey, what’s wrong?” She asked.

She was a little nervous, usually Mulder helped her with the hiding of the presents (she wouldn’t let him set his hands on the wrapping paper though...what a tragedy that would be) - so she was kind of out of her element a little bit.

“Nothing.” William shrugged, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. “I watched a few movies but I think I’m going to go read.”

Scully nodded, reaching out caressing his cheek briefly before he pulled away and started to trudge down the hallway.

“Don’t stay up too late!” She called after him.

The only answer back she got way a slight grumble before his door clicked shut behind him.

How was it her seven year old had such an attitude already? She shuddered to think of what the teenage years would entail.

Scully made her way outside her bedroom and clicked on the hallway light, making her way downstairs and pouring herself another glass of wine. She took a hearty sip and sighed quietly to nothing and nobody in particular.

It had been a rough couple of days, she’d admit that, she may have not planned as well as she was capable of but she had been thoroughly distracted these last few weeks. Nothing but taking care of her son and thinking about Mulder, everything else being put on the back burners.

She sat at the kitchen table for a little while, fingers toying with the ring of condensation at the bottom of her glass before she begrudgingly made her way back up the stairs with a fresh glass of wine to finish what she’d started.

It was late now. She’d stopped at three glasses of wine over the progression of the night, needing to keep her wits about her. The last thing she needed was to write sloppy inebriated happy holidays on the cards.

Scully heard a door shut and her head whipped up at the sound, dropping her pen to the desk with a clatter. She stood still for a moment, waiting, when she didn’t hear anything for a few minutes she moved closer to her bedroom door.

She silently cursed under her breath. Her gun was in the safe downstairs.

Creak.

Creak.

She felt gooseflesh appear on the back on her neck and across her arms as she became hyper aware of her surroundings. It felt like there were loose wires tangling in her stomach. She could do this. You know your goddamn house better than any intruder.

Releasing the breath she’d been holding in, Scully slowly turned the doorknob on her door and pushed it open, she stopped it just before the point where the hinges would squeak.

She sidled her way through the small space and tiptoed the small distance to William’s room to check on him. Scully breathed a sigh of relief after she’d opened the door quietly and saw that he was snoring slightly, undisturbed.

Closing the door, Scully turned around and made her way back in the direction of her bedroom and towards the stairs. The hallway light was dimmed  but most of the lights were off downstairs except for the bathroom and the kitchen. She made sure to avoid certain steps that would alert their intruder to her presence and stuck to the shadows.

It took her about 20 minutes to investigate every room in the house only to discover that she must of been imagining the noises. She sighed in frustration, wiping at the beads of sweat resting against her collarbone.

Paranoid.

Standing in front of the Christmas tree, the lights were dancing against the walls of the room. Scully followed the flickering patterns with a soft smile, enjoying the serenity of the moment.

“Mulder, you must be rubbing off on me.” She muttered.

“Well, not yet.”

Scully whipped around at the sound of the quiet voice behind her, the large figure took a step forward, almost closing the distance between them when she elbowed him in the solar plexus - knocking him backwards and off balance before sweeping her leg underneath him and causing his knees to buckle and crash to the floor landing on his back.

With swift movement, Scully straddled...Santa Claus?

Scully made sure that the man’s movements were constricted by the grip she held his wrists above his head and against the floor. But, quirked an eyebrow in confusion when she felt a chuckle from beneath her, his body shaking in quiet laughter.

“Oh God, Scully.” He sighed, “I should have known better.”

Wait...she knew that voice.

She removed one hand and pressed the other against both wrists before she leaned forward in the semi-darkness and pulled at the beard gently, a shocked expression appearing across her features briefly when it was evident that it was fake.

She snapped the beard back into place and released her hold on Mulder’s wrists before shoving his shoulders hard, she heard the slight thump of his back connecting with the ground and a small smug smile flickered across her lips at the action.

“You asshole!” She hissed quietly.

Mulder chucked again as she stood up and followed her movements, his back already beginning to throb and definitely not in the good way.

Scully pulled her nightgown closer as a chill breeze flowed through one of the screened windows. Mulder moved closer and despite being furious with him, she couldn’t help but gravitate towards the warmth of him behind her.

“Where did you get the costume?” She murmured quietly.

Mulder gently traced the point of Scully’s elbow as another breeze flowed through the window and Scully’s scent invaded his nostrils. It was a welcome intrusion.

“Someone owed me a favour.”

She turned to face him, pressing her body closer to the warmth of his, gently cupping his cheek.

“What are you doing here?” She asked Mulder quietly.

Mulder traced the shell of her ear with this thumb before sliding his fingers against the back of her neck and into the mess of locks there.

“Someone needed me.”

His hand traced the small of her back, warmth bleeding through the fabric of her nightgown as she slowly closed the small distance between them and gently pressed her lips to his. Their kiss was slow and languid until his hand dug against her waist causing a moan to escape from slightly parted lips.

Mulder’s tongue darted into the willing cavern of Scully’s mouth and she sagged in his arms briefly, before turning him and pushing him backwards, the thrumming between her legs fuelling her more than her mind. Scully moved closer to him, framing his face with both of her hands as she gently bit against Mulder’s enticing lower lip, sucking it into her mouth greedily when there was a loud crash!

Mulder’s back had collided with the Christmas tree and sent it flying, as the tree came crashing to the ground Scully lost her footing and toppled on top of Mulder.

The two agents entangled together laughed, their chests still heaving and their legs entangled. It was the lightest she’d felt in weeks and from the flush travelling across Mulder’s face, she dare say it’s the lightest he’s felt too.

“Mum? Why are you on top of Santa Claus?”

[mitchbeck]

CANTLON: (TU) PACK END 2019 WITH WIN OVER SOUND TIGERS

BY: Gerry Cantlon, Howlings HARTFORD, CT - The Hartford Wolf Pack ended 2019 by holding off a late surge from the visiting Bridgeport Sound Tigers to edge out their in-state and division rivals 3-2 at the XL Center before a crows of 2,617. The first place Wolf Pack's record improves to 19-8-2-5 (45 points). They now have a two point lead over the second place Providence Bruins in the Atlantic Division. The Baby Bruins were idle. Bridgeport's record falls to 13-17-4-1 (31 points). The Sound Tigers are in sixth place in the Atlantic. The Wolf Pack hit the road for a key visit to Providence on Friday and then they head to Utica to face the Comets on Saturday. The Wolf Pack maintained their perfect mark with a lead going into the third period (15-0-1-2) and improve their home record to 14-1-0-2. Their next game at home is on January 10th against the Charlotte Checkers. The last five minutes of the game were played almost exclusively in the Wolf Pack's end of the ice. A brilliant combination of Wolf Pack goalie Igor Shesterkin and the team's defense prevented the Sound Tigers from tying the game and forcing overtime. “We were just sitting back," said the Pack's head coach, Kris Knoblauch. "We had played, especially in the second, just a simple game. Nothing flashy. We got a really good defensive effort, especially at the end with some big blocks for Shesty. We got away from that at the end on their push back, but we prevailed.” The Sound Tigers crept up to within one goal after veteran Andrew Ladd made a perfect redirect while in front of the net on Sebastian Aho’s right point shot at 14:05. After that, the sticks appeared to have gotten gripped a little tighter. “Its always like that with Bridgeport. Nothing is happening, and next thing you know, they're right there. We made some big blocks for Shesty. Anytime we can make a block for him we’ll get one or two back from him. It was a good way to end the year with a win,” Matt Beleskey remarked. D-Man, Darren Raddysh, made one of those key blocks and was able get the puck off the boards out of the zone. Beleskey blocked one as well, taking one off his chest in a mad scramble in the Wolf Pack end of the ice in the final 1:31 after the Sound Tigers had pulled their goaltender, Jakub Skarek, for the extra attacker. To start the second period, Sound Tigers head coach, Brent Thompson, sought to change their fortunes by switching goalies from starter, Jared Coreau to Skarek, a Czech rookie. The Wolf Pack kept the Sound Tigers at bay for most of the game. The Pack's top defensive pairing of Raddysh and Vincent LoVerde were particularly solid against the AHL's hottest goal scorer, Keiffer Bellows. They holding him to just one shot. Bellows is coming off a hat-trick in his last game and has scored a goal in five straight, eight of nine and 12 of his last 13. “They have been our top defensive combination so far this season. It was our whole defense (that quieted Bellows) and the forwards coming back helped in that effort,”said Knoblauch. Raddysh downplayed his efforts including the blocked shots, in shutting Bellows down. “We’ve been trying to get in front of shots and trying to help Shesty out as much as possible. I was lucky enough to get in front of that one. We did a good job getting to the middle of the ice and trying to help him out in any way possible.” The Wolf Pack built a first period lead on two goals in a 31-second span. The first came when Beleskey was in front and was stopped by Coreau on a point blank chance, but he stayed with it and tracked down the loose puck. Beleskey fired the puck below the goal line toward the net looking to connect with Phil Di Giuseppe, but the puck went off Bridgeport's defenseman, Parker Wotherspoon, and into the net at 8:18. It was his ninth goal of the season. “He was out of the net, so I knew if I just threw it in front and hoped for the best and it kinda worked out,” Beleskey said with a sly grin. “Phil made a great pass. It was bouncing around a bit, but I stayed with it and it went in for us.” Raddysh took an errant clearing attempt that went awry off of a one-handed golf-swing at the puck by the Sound Tigers, Arnaud Durandeau. Raddysh retrieved the puck at center ice and put it off the right wing boards past the Sound Tigers. He went and collected his own dump in off the right-wing half-wall inside the Sound Tigers end of the ice. Raddysh skated deep on the to the goal line and fired from the sharpest angle shot imaginable and incredibly beat Coreau to the far side at 8:49. It gave the Pack a 2-0 lead. It was his fourth goal of the season. “I don’t know what I was doing. I kinda blacked out on that one,” Raddysh said with a laugh in talking about his solo effort. ”I was just lucky enough to get it back and get it in.” For Knoblauch the play was a part of Raddysh he saw when he coached him in juniors. “I saw him doing that pretty regularly in Erie, and tonight that goal and his very strong play in his own end was the reason we got the win.” The Wolf Pack used the power play to grab a 3-0 lead late in the first period. All five players touched the puck on the play. Nick Ebert was on the right-wing and found Yegor Rykov at the center point. Rykov fired a solid and low shot to the front of the net. Beleskey was there in front of the goalie and deflected it. Coreau made the save, but Beleskey then found the loose puck and chipped in his second goal of the period at 18:28 for the 3-0 lead. The Sound Tigers broke the shutout just 1:25 later. Ex-Pack captain Ryan Bourque slipped the pick to Otto Koivula in the slot. Despite lots of traffic, Koivula put in his third of season past Shesterkin, who was screened, and placed the puck inside the left-wing post with 16.3 left on the clock. LINES: Nieves - Kravtsov - Di Guiseppe O’Regan - Lettieri - Gettinger Jones - Beleskey - Gropp Zerter-Gossage - Fox - McBride Raddysh - LoVerde Keane - Geersten Rykov - Ebert SCRATCHES: Patrick Newell (upper body, day-to-day) Jeff Taylor (healthy) Lias Andersson (suspension) Gabriel Fontaine (shoulder surgery, season-ending) NOTES: The Wolf Pack close out the 2019 calendar year with attendance that continues to decline. They had a season-best number against the Providence of 5,685, and a poor showing with an early holiday game of 2,617. Presently, the Wolf Pack average just 3,555 a game. That puts them in the 27th spot in the AHL. Right behind them, at 3,222 is Bridgeport, followed by Binghamton, Stockton, and Belleville. The generic TV commercials don't appear to be making any impact. Spectra and the CRDA have to make a more substantial effort to match the team’s success this season. Recycling night, with reusable straws are not exactly a high-end, high-quality promotion. How about bringing back the scarf night? Perhaps with a classy white one this time? How about the plaid-padded ear muffs/snow hat? A fan was spotted wearing one in October at a New York Yankees - Minnesota Twins playoff game. Ex-Pack, Chris Mueller, was involved in an AHL trade. The Syracuse Crunch's parent club, the Tampa Bay Lightning, sent Mueller to the Anaheim Ducks for defenseman Patrick Sieloff. Mueller returns for a second stint with the San Diego Gulls. Ex-Pack, Dan De Salvo, signed a PTO with Cleveland. He was playing with the South Carolina Stingrays (ECHL). Ex-CT Whale, Wojtek Wolski, after playing for HC Ambri-Piotta (Switzerland-LNA) in the just-concluded Spengler Cup, signs a deal to play for the rest of the season with HC Ocelari Trinec (Czech Republic-CEL). The team is near the Polish border. Wolski is a Polish native. Wolski started the season with Kunlun (China-KHL). Team Canada won its fourth title in the last five years at the just concluded Spengler Cup for the 16th time breaking a tie for most titles with host HC Davos. In the championship final, the Canadians shutout HC Trinec 4-0 with ex-Sound Tiger, Dustin Jeffrey. scoring twice and was the tournament’s top scorer. The team was led by GM, Sean Burke, the ex-Hartford Whaler, and assistant coach was another ex-Whaler in Paul Coffey. The runner-up, HC Ocelari Trinec, featured ex-Sound Tiger, Tomas Marcinko, and former CT Whale, Tomas Kundratek. At today’s WJC action Sweden shutout Slovakia who is coached by ex-Whaler, Robert Petrovicky. The score was 5-0. Rangers prospect, Karl Henriksson, picked up an assist for the Swedes. With four power play goals in the first period, five for the game, Canada knocked off the host Czech Republic squad, 7-2. Due to an injury to their starting goalie, Lukas Parik, the Czechs used Nick Malik, 17, the youngest player in the tournament. Malik is the youngest son of former Whaler, Ranger, and Beast of New Haven defenseman, Marek Malik. Canada's GM is former Whaler, Mark Hunter. Their goalie coach is all-time Wolf Pack great, Jason LaBarbera. The US squad will play Finland in the quarterfinals of the medal round Thursday at 11:30am EST (NHL Network). UCONN will own the building Friday against Northeastern in a Hockey East meeting. The game is coming off a split at the Ledyard Classic at Dartmouth College. UCONN lost on late goal to Dartmouth 4-3 in the final game despite two goals from Carter Turnbull (Nanaimo, BC). UCONN still has people talking about how they got to the final by tying the game in the waning micro seconds against the St. Lawrence University Saints, tying the game at two and forcing overtime. With their goaltender pulled for an extra attacker, freshmen rearguard, Carter Berger, took a shot from dead center at the blue line. The puck hit off the chest of St. Lawrence's Callum Cusinato and bounced. The puck got whacked toward the net by UCONN sophomore forward, Jonny Evans, and hit the skates of forward, Jachym Kondelik. It spun on its edge and swooped into the net off the open left-wing side. The goal was credited to senior, Sasha Payusov, who registered the goal with .03 seconds left in the game. The other major story coming out of the game was that junior goalie Bradley Stone (London, England) made his first varsity start at the last minute due to the illness to starting UCONN netminder, Tomas Vomacka. Stone made 21 saves in regulation and overtime and then was scintillating in a nine-round shootout. He stopped eight-of-the-nine sent at him. Turnbull ended things in round nine. Read the full article

[blaineandsamevanderson]

Title:  Once in A Lifetime Chapter 22

By: @blaineandsamevanderson (SageK on ff.net, kaitlia777 on LJ and AO3)

Graphics and Assistant Brain Stormer: @lauraperfectinsanity

Pairing: Blaine/Sam

Rating: R

Summary:  Late Spring, 2014 Sam auditions for a role in a TV show and Blaine comes along for moral support…and that’s just the beginning of their adventure!

Authors Note: I don’t know anything about the casting process for a TV show or what the process might be before filming.  This is all fiction.  I also don’t have any affiliation with Glee, Agents of Shield or any of the men and women who are involved with making the show.  Again, this is a work of fiction!

Authors Note #2: This is AU for Glee Season 5, pretty Episode 100 and anything after isn’t applicable to this.  Also, the plot for Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. was thought of before I saw CA:TWS, but was easily adapted…but let’s just say AOS is AU as of Turn, Turn, Turn.

Authors Note #3: We named Blaine’s Mom Anna before we knew Glee had named her Pam and hired and actress to play her…so we’re gonna stick with our name and FC!

Authors Note #4: This isn’t really a fic for fans of Kurt and Rachel.  They’re the antagonists in this fic and are way over the top (in keeping with Glee’s tradition of being OTT).

Authors Note #4: Sorry for the crappy Google translate Spanish!

**

**

Most mornings, Blaine woke up comfortably starfished on the bed, a cat or two and a wiggly puppy cuddling him. Sam continued to wake early to run before set and then he’d bring coffee home from the small café on the corner. The smell of fresh brewed dark roast was what tended to finish rousing Blaine from his slumber.

Today though….

“Mmmm,” he moaned, pleasure rolling through him, mingling with the happy morning haze. His hips rocked, thrusting up into warm, wet softness…. “Sam?”

Still blinking sleepily, Blaine reached down, a hand coming to rest on Sam’s head as it bobbed, hidden beneath the blue and white striped sheets.

“Mo-in,” Sam replied, voice garbled because he didn’t stop what he was doing, something Blaine truly appreciated. The feel of velvety lips wrapped around him was one he’d really come to love.

Hands delving under the sheet, Blaine ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, blunt nails scratching his scalp, making the blond hum happily. Little by little, Blaine shed the last vestiges of sleep, focusing on the feel of Sam’s mouth and the hands stroking his thighs. By the time he came, he was fully alert, arching up under his boyfriend with a cry.

As Blaine shuddered, panting as he came down from his orgasm, Sam crawled up his body and popped out from under the sheets with a grin. A drop of cum lingered on his lush lower lip before his tongue swept it away. “Happy Birthday,” he murmured sweetly, leaning in to press a kiss to Blaine’s jaw.

A chuckle burst from Blaine as he ran an hand down Sam’s broad, bare back. “Definitely a happy way to wake up,” he agreed, angling his head to catch Sam in a long, slow kiss.

“That’s only the beginning,” Sam promised with a nod, settling his body atop Blaine’s and pinning him to the mattress. “We don’t have to be on set today and I got some stuff to make crepes later, so…no rush to get out of bed.”

“Oh, I like the way you think,” Blaine hummed, pulling Sam closer again.

He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his birthday!

**

**

**

**

“I can’t believe they didn’t answer!” Rachel complained as she and Kurt climbed the narrow stairs. “Perhaps they’ve allowed their brief taste of fame to go to their heads.”

Kurt huffed in agreement. “Well, now I suppose it will be an even nicer surprise for Blaine! We’re going to celebrate his birthday in style together.”

Behind them, laden down with luggage, their cab driver snorted, doubting anyone would be thrilled to see these two shrill, demanding people.

Checking his phone, Kurt began down the third floor hall, stopping before a door. A wooden sign with red letters that spelled out Happy Valentine’s Day (How tacky) hung below the peephole and, rolling his eyes, he declared, “This is it!”

Without pausing, Rachel raised a hand and rapped briskly on the wood. She fluffed her hair and Kurt straightened his jacket…and then they waited.

Waited far too long.

When it became clear that the knock had not been heard, Kurt banged his fist against the door. “They must be here. Their cars are in the lot, as was evidenced by the various nerd/music bumper stickers.”

Rachel nodded in agreement, but before she could respond, something inside the apartment let out a loud yip.

Oh right.

The dog.

A second later, the door opened slowly, revealing a flushed and disheveled Blaine. He was shirtless (hello new abs) and a little sweaty, wearing too long pajama pants that seemed a bit tight across the hips. A red mark that looked suspiciously like a bite was visible on his iliac crest. Those pretty eyes were wide and shocked as he stared at Kurt.

Obviously, Kurt’s brilliant plan to surprise him delightfully had worked to a T!

“Surprise!” Kurt sang, his voice chorusing with Rachel’s and he took a step toward Blaine. From beside him, he heard the click of Rachel’s phone as she snapped a picture of Blaine.

Who took a step back, a hand coming up between them even as the small dog scurried to sit in front of Blaine.

“Kurt?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

“You didn’t think I’d miss your birthday, did you Silly?” Kurt laughed as he entered the apartment.

Sam, in a similar state of undress, popped around the armoire, looking befuddled (though that was a fairly common expression for him). “We weren’t expecting guests,” he said, then gave a wave that made his pectorals move in a rather intriguing manner. “Hey.”

“Hi, Sam,” Rachel chirped with a smile. “Could you be a dear and go help our driver with the rest of our bags?”

That made Blaine and Sam exchange a look. “Why didn’t you drop them off at your hotel?” Blaine asked slowly, taking a few steps toward Sam, stooping to pick up the wiggling puppy as he did so.

“We’re staying here, of course,” Kurt told him, eyeing the little furball who seemed to be glaring back.

Rachel gestured around. “I assume the guest room is through there?” she asked, nodding at the closet.

“We don’t have a guest room,” Sam said flatly. “And I’m not dressed to go carry bags.”

Kurt couldn’t believe how rude Sam was being as the Cabbie snorted. “Meter’s running.”

**

**

When Kurt and Rachel followed the cabbie out to retrieve their bags (something they were not happy about), Blaine turned to Sam. “What the heck is this?”

“No idea,” Sam said with a shrug, returning to the bedroom to grab his phone, rapidly shooting off a text. “Santana didn’t know about this either. She’s pissed….”

“So am I,” Blaine said, placing Nyota down on the bed before stepping up behind Sam so he could wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s lean waist. Pressing a kiss to Sam’s spine, he laid his cheek against the blond’s shoulder blade. “I wanted to spend the day with you!”

“That was the plan,” Sam sighed, resting his hands atop Blaine’s. “We should call Sugar and Sebastian, get them to run interf….”

The apartment door was flung open and Sebastian’s voice rang out. “Tell me this text from Santana is a joke made in very poor taste and that deluded, fashion impaired elf did not show up here uninvited!” Prowling the apartment, Sebastian looked at them in askance. “Well?!”

Sam’s shoulders bobbed in a shrug. “They’re down getting the rest of their bags,” he said, pointing at the already impressive pile of luggage.”

Sebastian, clad in linen pajama pants and a white V-neck t-shirt, blinked at them for a moment before shaking his head. “Nope. C’mon, let’s toss their crap into the courtyard and have a bonfire. Millie made homemade sausages the other day, we can have a party.”

He had a suitcase in hand when Kurt reappeared and shrieked, “Unhand my Louis Vuitton, you sneaky Attempted Boyfriend Thief!”

“Please don’t try to pass this cheap knock off as the real thing to someone who actually owns the Horizon 55 collection,” Sebastian sneered, dropping the bag onto the floor in distaste.

Rachel appeared behind Kurt, lugging a bag nearly as large as she was. “What are you doing here?” she demanded of Sebastian, who had wandered over to pat Nyota.

“I live upstairs, not 2,500 miles away, so it’s perfectly reasonable for me to pop by for a surprise visit…unlike some people,” Sebastian drawled grumpily and Blaine sighed, hiding his face in Sam’s back again.

Sam’s back was nice and warm and smelled really good….

“This kitchen is a mess!” Kurt announced, looking annoyed. “What happened to the Blaine who insisted on doing the dishes immediately at the loft? Oh, do you have help to come in and clean up?”

“We don’t have to worry about rats or cockroaches invading if we leave a dish in the sink,” Sam sighed. “We got…distracted after breakfast.”

“Ew!” Rachel announced, holding up a hand and displaying the condom wrapper that had stuck to her when she settled onto the couch.

A laugh burst from Sebastian. “Well I guess we know what distracted you!”

Blaine and Sam traded an amused shrug and Kurt plowed on as though Sebastian hadn’t spoken. “Anyhow, you should get dressed, Blaine. It’s early enough for us to grab a nice brunch.”

Peeking around Sam’s back, Blaine asked, “What?”

“Silly, I came to spend your birthday with you. We’re going to go out…Sam, you can entertain Rachel while we’re…catching up.”

Blaine blinked, but before he could speak, Sam said, “No, Sam will not entertain Rachel. Sam will spend the day with Blaine while you two go find a hotel.”

The looks of unhappy shock on Kurt and Rachel’s faces would have been amusing if the whole situation wasn’t so horrific. Somehow, the fact that their behavior was grossly inappropriate had escaped them. “Blaine!” Kurt exclaimed. “Are you going to allow him to speak to me like that after I came all this…Keep that beast away from me!”

Nyota had leapt off of the bed and planted herself between Blaine, Sam and Kurt. She was growling softly, though not making any aggressive moves.

“She’s not a beast,” Sebastian said with a raised brow. “She’s just protecting her Daddies.”

“Your animals are rather aggressive,” Rachel said, looking up to where the cats were perched on the armoire and Wolverine hissed down at her.

“I’ve never seen either of them behave like that before,” Blaine said with a puzzled look down at Nyota. “What’s wrong, Baby Girl?”

As he bent to gather her up for a cuddle, Sam plucked the cats off of the tall cabinet and held them close.

“Blaine, could you please pay attention and tell Sam to stop interfering with our day!” Kurt demanded, crossing his arms. “We want to get a good seat on a patio at a café, so we should get moving.”

Gaping at Kurt, Blaine shook his head. “No. Because Sam isn’t interfering, you are, Kurt. I’m going to spend my birthday with my boyfriend. I’m dating Sam, not you.”

“Oh please, you can drop the act. It’s just us here, so you two don’t have to pretend. I’m sure you don’t want to spend today….”

“Shut up, Kurt!” Blaine snapped, seeming to surprise even himself. “No one invited you here to spoil my birthday!”

As Kurt and Rachel stared, once again dumbstruck, Sebastian made a sound of approval and Sam shifted the cats into one arm so he had one free to wrap around Blaine’s shoulders.

“How can you say that….,” Rachel began, but was interrupted as the door burst open once again.

“Oh my God! I didn’t believe Sebastian when he called….”

“Ustedes dos egocéntricos, ignorantes Fuckettes! Yo sabía que ustedes dos no shitgoblins talento fueron engañados, pero maldición! Newsflash, tetas de bolos y gallo Malabarismo Thundercunt, nadie quiere que usted allí! Teniendo en cuenta la enorme inversión craneal rectal que tienes pasando, estoy desconcertado en cuanto a cómo se arreglan para creer que su mierda no apesta!  Haz un favor al mundo y vete a coger un cactus…..” *******

“I called Sugar,” Sebastian said with a grin thrown at the small girl, who was holding up her phone so that she and Santana (via FaceTime) could berate Kurt and Rachel in stereo. “Want me to call the crew that moved me into my apartment? I’m sure if we tip them good, they’ll get rid of Kurt and Rachel along with all their stuff.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of Blaine’s head, Sam sighed. “t might come to that, but I think we should try getting them to leave willingly first.”

Somehow, Blaine didn’t think that was going to be an easy task…but he was willing to try.

If it didn’t work, Sebastian’s movers could be their back up plan.

**

**

“Is he seriously singing….?” Sam began, gaping at the karaoke stage where Kurt was belting out a Katy Perry song.

Rachel swatted at him.  “Sshhhh! Hold your tongue!”

Beside Sam, Blaine sputtered, “But…he’s singing The One That Got Away.  With customized lyrics and staring intently at me.  That’s grossly inappropriate.”

“Shhhhhh!”

With a grimace, Sebastian drawled “Why are we here?”

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Blaine curled under Sam’s arm and ate the cherry off of his virgin pina colada.  “It was the only way to get them to agree to staying in a hotel without forcible removal.”

“Sh-mph!” Rachel began, but was cut off when Sugar wrapped a hand around her mouth.

The younger girl narrowed her eyes and hissed, “I swear to God, Rachel, you shush us one more time, I will rip out your extensions and gag you with them.”

With a relieved chuckle, Sebastian raised his glass to Sugar in a toast. “Thank you, Sugar.  You’ve been added to my ‘Totally Doable If She Had A Dick” list.”

She beamed at him. “Aw, aren’t you sweet, Sebastian.”

**

**

As Blaine and Sam stood in line at the café near their apartment, they were shocked when Kurt  popped up beside them. “So, I was looking over one of your scripts…”

Blaine blinked and traded a look with Sam.  “What?  Where did you find that?”

“In your desk drawer.  Anyhow, I was thinking, that if they beefed up the Nova character, it’d be perfect for me,” Kurt said and Rachel nodded as she joined him, wearing a dress that would have looked at home at a cocktail party rather than a coffee shop.

“And I think I’d be suited for playing Barbara!” Rachel added, peering out from behind oversized shades.  “It’s fate, given my idol!”

“What? Bobbi Morse has already been cast and Nova isn’t in any script I’ve seen….” Sam said, grabbing his and Blaine’s drinks from the counter even as Kurt pulled out a copy of script pages…which, how the hell did he have those?

A thin, pale finger jabbed at several lines.  “See, I could totally play this part!”

“We’ve already cast Noh-Varr too,” Blaine sighed, trying to make his way out of the shop so that they could head to work.

Kurt and Rachel followed at their heels.  “Well, what parts were you thinking for Rachel and I?  Clearly it would be a waste of our talents to cast us as extras.”

Again, Sam and Blaine shared a look.  “We don’t have any part in casting.”

“You got Mike and Puck parts!”  Rachel protested.  “With our skill and resumes, surely no one will want to miss a chance to cast us!”

“No, they came by set and were asked if they’d like to be extras.  We didn’t get them the jobs,”  Blaine protested, biting his lip when he realized his mistake.

“Fine, let’s go to set!”

**

**

**

**

“That was humiliating!”

“They offered you both….” Blaine began, intending to sooth bruised egos, but Kurt cuth him off.

“Extras! Rachel and I are not extras, it’s insulting!  How dare they!” Kurt bemoaned and Rachel let out a disgruntled huff beside him.  “You really need to have a word with those people about their inability to recognize talent!”

Sam gritted his teeth, but managed to be civil as he asked, “So…when do you two have to be back in New York?”

Honestly, Blaine didn’t think it could be soon enough.

**

**

(Turk Rant about spotting Blaine out in LA with his ‘real boyfriend’ Kurt)

**

**

TBC....

**Translation (again, via Google Translate):   You two self centered, ignorant Fuckettes! I knew you two no talent shitgoblins were deluded, but damn! Newsflash, Skittle Tits and Cock Juggling Thundercunt, no one wants you there! Considering the massive cranial rectal inversion you’ve got going on, I’m baffled as to how you still manage to believe your shit don’t stink!  Do the world a favor and go fuck a cactus....

[flauntpage]

Shouldering the Burden – Observations from Sixers 118, Knicks 101

For the second straight game, Markelle Fultz’s shoulder was a topic of discussion.

This time, it had nothing to do with whatever injury or non-injury kept him sidelined for 60 games, but rather the friendly fire first-half collision that knocked teammate Joel Embiid out of the game.

Fultz was trying to take a hand-off from Embiid, and with Frank Ntilikina pursuing from behind, Embiid bobbled the ball and went down to retrieve it, which caused Fultz to hit him right in the face:

Joel Embiid is headed into the locker room after a collision on the court

Here is the play where it happened. pic.twitter.com/LoP8wWl4C6

— NBC Sports Philadelphia (@NBCSPhilly) March 28, 2018

Just an accident there, nothing more. The Sixers run that dump off/DHO above the elbow about a million times per game, and Embiid will either hand it back to the point guard or let the player brush cut off of him. The bobble caused Joel to lower his head, and that’s how the contact happened.

Embiid left the game with a facial contusion, though he did not suffer a concussion and X-rays, we were told, came back negative. He was taken to a hospital for further testing, where he posted the following on Instagram:

#Sixers center @JoelEmbiid displays his swollen face underneath the caption “Not good” from the hospital late Wednesday night. pic.twitter.com/qhlAA0tybm

— Keith Pompey (@PompeyOnSixers) March 29, 2018

The positive news is that Joel looks to have avoided serious injury and should be okay. They won’t need him in Atlanta on Friday anyway.

His departure made a somewhat straightforward game a bit nonlinear instead. With Amir Johnson already unavailable due to illness, the Sixers went to Richaun Holmes for extended minutes while also using Dario Saric as a stretch five paired with Ersan Ilyasova. A wobbly squad allowed the Knicks to tie the game at 60, only to regroup at halftime and slap around the visitors in the third quarter.

It was Saric leading the way again, a quiet 26 points, 14 rebounds, 5 assists, and 2 steals for the homie. JJ Redick added 21 and Holmes went for 15 and 7 off the bench.

I’m not sure what else there is to say about Dario at this point. Everybody knows how good he’s been this season, and I think his contributions are appreciated, but I still feel like we don’t talk about him enough.

He made the play of the game, a steal and dive with a volleyball bump for Ben Simmons, who flushed it down:

Dario Saric hit the floor and tapped it to Ben Simmons in stride for tonight's #AssistOfTheNight! #HereTheyCome pic.twitter.com/Mf6momqG5P

— NBA (@NBA) March 29, 2018

Saric cut his elbow on the play and had to go over to get the bleeding taken care of. That’s the type of sequence that endears you to Philadelphia fans forever, like that ex-Phillie who ran into the fence more than 10 years ago.

Brett Brown said this about the play:

“Fantastic, truly inspirational stuff and that’s what we want to be. For the most part that’s who we are and that was a courageous play, motivating play and I thought tonight he was our MVP, he was the bell-ringer tonight. That play is as good as it gets if you just wanted to snapshot how you want your team to be perceived. It speaks volumes on many levels.”

It does speak volumes. I mean, the most “Philly” guy on the roster is from Croatia, so go figure.

Brown was further asked if he feels like Saric is getting more respect around the league and from officials, too:

“He should be. I think in relation to, ‘Does that translate to more free throws?’ I don’t know, but what I do know is that he is such a significant part of this team. From a spirit standpoint as much as a positional and statistical standpoint, his spirit is pure and he loves basketball. He’s a great teammate and he’s just trending up, he’s just really getting better and so as the season winds down and people just pay attention and it really doesn’t require much more than that; then his reputation from the people that matter is for sure going up.”

Hard to argue with that.

Markelle

Three points, 5 rebounds, 7 assists, one steal, and one block in 14 minutes last night.

Fultz played the same role as he did on Monday, handling point guard duties with the second unit but shooting just 20% (1-5) on the evening.

He entered the game with 3:48 in the 1st quarter, playing in a group that looked like this:

Fultz

T.J. McConnell

Marco Belinelli

Ersan Ilyasova

Richaun Holmes

Markelle’s first action was a big defensive swat on Trey Burke, a nicely timed slide and block at the rim:

Markelle Fultz can get *up* pic.twitter.com/7hmj6Wslvw

— Ben Harris (@byBenHarris) March 28, 2018

He then had some simple assists on long jumpers from Belinelli and Ilyasova before hitting his only shot of the game, a jaunt right down the slot for a smooth, pull-up 12-footer:

Again, that looks so simple, but no one else is doing that on this team. Covington and Redick aren’t doing that. Simmons CAN do it, but rarely shoots that shot. McConnell doesn’t necessarily try a lot of stuff from that area specifically, it’s usually inside the paint. Markelle’s ability to get to spots on the floor off the dribble is a welcome addition to this squad.

He went back to the bench with 8:54 in the second, then got a second shift starting at 3:52 in the third, playing in Brown’s smaller Ilyasova/Saric lineup:

Fultz

McConnell (quickly replaced with Covington)

Belinelli

Ilyasova

Saric

He ripped off a pair of assists to Saric and Belinelli before driving to the rack and getting a foul call, sending him to the free throw line for the first time since October.

He hit one of two attempts:

Fultz goes 1-of-2 from the line. Still a bit of a hitch but a lot better than earlier this season. pic.twitter.com/dl7UM7V2Rn

— The Bitter Birds (@AdrianFedkiw) March 29, 2018

Fultz spoke about the free throws and other topics after the game. His locker room availability was straightforward and smooth, no awkward silence and no dodging of questions, just simple stuff about the game itself and his performance. I honestly think he’s pretty good with the media. He was around plenty of reporters in college and it’s not like he’s uncomfortable up there. I just think the PR staff could have prepped him better on Monday night when the justifiable shoulder questions came up.

You can watch the whole thing here:

https://t.co/bTp8KxpJkG

— Kevin Kinkead (@Kevin_Kinkead) March 29, 2018

The worst call of all time?

At the end of the first quarter I witnessed what I thought might be the worst offensive foul call of all time.

It was a Marco Belinelli three-point attempt, a shot he hit while falling backwards and out of bounds that the ref instead decided was illegal because of the ole’ Reggie Miller leg kick:

This shot was emphatically called an offensive foul on #Sixers Marco Belinelli (18) by the ref. #wut pic.twitter.com/O1yxyB9wtk

— FantasyPros (@FantasyPros) March 28, 2018

I mean, I don’t know. Is there really any reason to call anything there? Marco’s legs do kick out just slightly, but Luke Kornet is right on the edge of occupying the space where his motion begins, if you watch the video again.

If we’re being honest, I’m not sure why you’d feel the need to blow the whistle at all. Sometimes you have bang-bang plays like that where both players are in a gray area and you just let it go instead. Belinelli didn’t exactly flop, while Kornet slides a bit, but not in a dirty or deliberate type of way.

Play on.

Knick fan fashion

Not sure what it is about Knicks fans, but they seem to care more about what they’re wearing to the game than the game itself. It’s like they see it as some social event instead of a basketball game, that typical New York and Los Angeles fake posturing and cosmopolitan crapola.

This guy below took off his zip-up throwback jacket to reveal a John Starks jersey, gold chain, and tribal tattoos to compliment a flat brim hat:

The jeans are acid washed with those little grooves on them, like that “motorcycle meets end of the world” vibe that Kanye West exhibited in his clothing line awhile back. It’s like something you’d wear if you were an extra in Mad Max: Fury Road.

This guy had the same exact jacket and a gold chain, along with ripped jeans:

I dunno, it’s just weird. The jewelry, the throwback items, the gym/tan/laundry “Jersey Shore” vibe, it’s all somewhat strange to me.

On the flip side, it’s not like Philly is Paris or Milan. Most local fans show up wearing a jersey over a sweatshirt with baggy dad jeans and/or plain white new balance sneakers. If you’re from Mayfair, you probably also have a Phillies tattoo on your calf. If you’re me, you walk around with an untucked shirt, looking like a slob.

Yea, we do have some guido types at Eagles and Sixers games, but you don’t really see a ton of New York or LA posturing going on.

But that’s because we’re a blue collar, “lunch pail” type of town, not a city of plastic poseurs.

(I’m allowed to say guido since I’m half-Italian.) 

    Shouldering the Burden – Observations from Sixers 118, Knicks 101 published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[yahoo-shutdown-corner-blog]

Who has fewest receiving yards for every NFL team? It's a weird list

Surfing the NFL channel on Reddit over the weekend, as one does on gorgeous 80-degree Saturdays in the offseason, I ran into a strange, amusing topic created by user Scorigami — the players with the fewest receiving yards in each NFL franchise’s history.

Yeah, that’s right: the lowest number of yards. As in, all of them are in the negative.

[Fantasy Football is open! Sign up now]

Believe it or not, Blaine Gabbert holds a 49ers franchise record: fewest receiving yards in team history. (AP)

I am all about statistical oddities, and though football doesn’t have the pure weirdness in this way that, say, baseball does, there still are plenty of obscure numbers we can kick around and have fun with.

These are some of them. What’s notable is that there isn’t a single true wide receiver or tight end on this list. But that actually makes some sense, if you think about it. Most are quarterbacks and offensive linemen in what amounted to one (or maybe two) fluky plays, such as catching batted passes behind the line of scrimmage, leading to this odd ignominy. But that’s not true in all cases, as I found out.

What a strange distinction this must be to be. It’s not like these guys are telling their kids/grandkids about this, but … let’s nonetheless roll through this goofy list, alpha order:

Chicago/St. Louis/Phoenix/Arizona Cardinals Linebacker-fullback Billy Svoboda, minus-9 yards

A lunchpail type (we assume), Svoboda touched the ball 11 times on offense for the 1951 Cardinals — a pretty bad team that at one point had a pair of “co-coaches” that season — and netted a total of 6 yards. We’re not sure which of the co-coach’s idea it was to get the ball in Svoboda’s hands, but it appears to have been quickly scrapped.

What’s incredible, though, is that Svoboda has the amazing distinction of netting negative yards in two separate games, including one in which is caught four (!) passes against the Pittsburgh Steelers. Without more detailed records available, it’s almost impossible to know exactly what happened. But we now have a new favorite player from the Korean War era, that’s for sure.

Atlanta Falcons Offensive lineman Chris Hinton, minus-10 yards

Hinton — most famous for being involved in the John Elway trade before he ever played a down in the NFL — actually was doing well as a blocker, sure, but also as a receiver his first nine seasons in the NFL. He had a 1-yard reception in Year 6 in the NFL with the Indianapolis Colts that kept in the black.

But then things went awry in 1992. Hinton caught a tipped pass for minus-3 yards on the play against the Chicago Bears and actually looks amazingly nimble in spite of the lost field position.

(There’s priceless footage of the event right here, and going down the rabbit hole of this game will show you how bizarre this game is, trust us. Deion Sanders, Andre Rison, William Perry and three future NFL head coaches — including Jim Harbaugh — play in the game. The actual head coaches were Mike Ditka and Jerry Glanville, and John Madden is breaking down some key tailgating footage during this drive. The field surface looks absolutely awful. Peak ’90s NFL right here. I could write 5,000 words on this game alone, a 41-31 bizarro shootout between two really bad teams, and you might be able to tell the story of the past 25 years of league history with this game serving as Ground Zero. I’ve very serious about this.)

That catch put Hinton in the red for his career, then standing at minus-2 yards. This was a former tight end at Northwestern, so you know it must have eaten at him. So the following season, almost a year to the day later in 1993, the Falcons amazingly were back in Soldier Field for another game against the Bears. And again, a pass ended up in the hands of Hinton. It was another tipped pass, and sadly this one went for minus-8 yards.

Even more disheartening, I couldn’t track down footage of this play, but I do know it knocked the Falcons out of field-goal range near the end of the first half of what ended up being a 6-0 Bears win. That game, we’re guessing, was a lot less fascinating than the contest the year prior. That would be the final reception of his career. Hinton’s lifetime receiving totals: three catches, minus-9 yards (but minus-10 as a member of the Falcons).

Baltimore Ravens Defensive back Anthony Mitchell, minus-11 yards

In a strange Monday night thriller in 2001 between two teams that routinely knocked the snot out of each other back then, Mitchell — a journeyman DB with a relatively nondescript career — found himself the recipient of a botched punt play. We’ll defer to Bob Christs’ description of the event at the time, which resulted in another strange statistical quirk:

Does the passer-rating system need to be reworked? Ravens punter Kyle Richardson retrieved a wayward snap against the Titans on Monday night and flipped an off-balance throw to Anthony Mitchell that resulted in an 11-yard loss. The play gives Richardson a passer rating of 79.2, which ranks him ahead of 24 QBs who have started games this season.

That play was not one of his most memorable, though hardly through any fault of his own. But Mitchell actually had been on the end of a tremendous play in the AFC title game between the two teams nine months prior when he returned a blocked field-goal attempt 90 yards for a touchdown as a rookie to vault the Ravens into the Super Bowl, which they would go on to win.

In this game between the teams, Mitchell’s minus-8 grab turned into a mere footnote. It ended with the Ravens beating the Titans 16-10 when Steve McNair was ruled down short of the goal line following a QB sneak after a Titans touchdown was called back by officials as time expired.

Buffalo Bills Quarterbacks Joe Ferguson and Jack Kemp, minus-9

A tie! A first on our list, but not our last. Kemp and Ferguson were the franchise’s two most beloved quarterbacks in the pre-Jim Kelly days.

Not much is documented about Kemp’s one career reception, for minus-9 against the San Diego Chargers in 1965. But that grab was not the only miserable thing for him and the Bills that day. After taking a 3-0 lead, the Chargers stomped them with 34 unanswered points in the game between the two AFL heavyweights. Kemp was benched after completing 7-of-23 passes with two picks. But the Bills got the last laugh, with Kemp playing well in the AFL title game shutout of the Chargers two months later, 23-zip.

Ferguson actually had two negative receptions, one in his NFL debut against the New England Patriots. He caught a pass from O.J. Simpson for minus-3 yards and did little else despite starting (1-of-2 passing, two rushes for 4 yards, and that catch), but Simpson — he of the 250 rush yards that day — picks up a wee bit of slack in the 31-13 win. Ferguson’s other negative-yard reception (minus-6) came five years later, also against the Patriots, but Simpson wasn’t around by that time to bail him out in what was a 14-10 New England win.

Carolina Panthers Quarterback Kerry Collins, minus-11 yards

The end was near for Collins, the first draft pick in Carolina franchise history, when he caught his own deflected pass in the 1998 season opener against the Atlanta Falcons early in the third quarter of a 19-14 loss that would kick off seven straight defeats to open the Panthers’ miserable season. Four weeks later, Collins essentially quit on his teammates, telling them his heart wasn’t in it anymore, before being released the following week.

At least his heart was into catching that pass, as it’s now quite fitting to sum up his Panthers career. By the time Collins caught the second pass of his career (a minus-2er for the 2001 New York Giants, also in the season opener), he had been reborn, on roughly the fourth of his nine NFL lives.

Chicago Bears Center Olin Kreutz, minus-8 yards

True story: I accidentally stepped on the foot of Kreutz in the postgame chaos of the Bears locker room minutes after the team won the 2006 NFC title game and advanced to Super Bowl XLI, and he shot me a look as if to say, “On any other day, dude …” If you were ever met with the steely glare of the ornery center, you know how this could take years of a man’s life.

But Kreutz’s one career reception didn’t happen that day, or even that season. This was two years earlier in a strange game against the Oakland Raiders that was a virtual block party. Not only did Sebastian Jankikowski have a field-goal attempt swatted, but a few minutes later three straight passes (by both QBs) were deflected. The final one was a Kordell Stewart rejection by Derrick Gibson that ended up in Kreutz’s mitts for minus-8 and a 3rd and 24 situation.

Former Bears center Olin Kreutz could be a pretty serious guy. (AP)

He’d play another 128 NFL games, mostly for the Bears, and never catch another pass. Let’s hope he also never got his foot stepped on by a writer, other than that one fateful time.

Cincinnati Bengals Fullback Nathan Poole, minus-14 yards

Poole came on our radar near the end of the 2016 season when we were doing research about Reggie Bush’s historic season — for all the wrong reasons. Bush set records for rushing-yard futility last season and in our research for that story we discovered the dirty work of Poole, who as a rookie in 1979 had some pretty depressing fantasy production: one rush for minus-3 yards and one catch for minus-10. We hope if anyone had him back then it was at least in a PPR league for some silver lining.

On the play in question, Poole caught a pass from Ken Anderson and lost 10 yards in a scoreless game against the Denver Broncos. It was Week 1 and the first time Poole touched the ball in the NFL. He wouldn’t touch it again for six more games; that was the minus-3.

In his second season, Poole ran five times for 6 yards and caught another negative-yardage pass, that one for minus-3. This means that even as a “skill position” player, Poole incredibly had to play his first 40 NFL games, spanning nearly four years, with a career yards-from-scrimmage total before surpassing the zero mark. It came crashing down when he ripped off a 20-yard run — all that pent-up frustration? — as a member of the Broncos the day after Christmas in 1982.

Amazingly, Poole would actually touch the ball more than 100 times in John Elway’s rookie season the following year, which was also Dan Reeves’ first season as head coach. Reeves always did have a soft spot for the fullbacks, being a former one himself. Poole finished his career with a net 602 yards from scrimmage, but in 32 games with the Bengals he stood at minus-11.

Cleveland Browns Halfback-fullback Jamie Caleb, minus-18 yards

The man who did a lot of lead blocking for Jim Brown scored his only touchdown in his third NFL game, which came against the expansion Dallas Cowboys in their inaugural season of 1960. Caleb plunged in for the score late in that 48-7 Browns blowout, but he also had the strangest receiving line that day that we think we’ve ever seen: five receptions for minus-18 yards. One of those catches apparently went for 2 yards, so the other four netted a minus-20. Lordy.

We might never find out what exactly happened there, as statistics (and more specifically, play by play accounts for games) from that era are a bit sketchy. But we’ll assume it was accurate and that it was some fluky play in a long-forgotten game that caused this strange line. The Browns have provided us with scores of negative plays in recent years to give us our fill.

Dallas Cowboys Quarterback Troy Aikman, minus-19 yards

How miserable was Aikman’s rookie season? Consider that he started the team’s final 11 games, all of which were losses, and capped it with a Christmas Eve crapper that might have been one of the two or three worst games of his career. Aikman finished the 20-10 loss with four picks, zero touchdowns and only 125 yards on 28 attempts. Oh yeah, and a catch for minus-13. Just your standard batted-back-in-his face jobs on that miserable afternoon in Dallas.

But his worst game? Aikman himself might argue it was two years later in a 24-0 loss to the Eagles in which he was sacked 11 times, lost a fumble and threw three picks. And what else happened that game? A reception for minus-6 yards. And that’s how we get to minus-19 for his career.

Denver Broncos Offensive guard Mike Schnitker, minus-11 yards

Trivia: Schnitker played high school, college and pro ball all in the state of Colorado. In his six-year career with the Broncos, he was a part-time starter, but in the middle of what would be his best NFL season in 1971 as the predominant starting right guard, the Broncos were playing in the Eagles — two bad teams facing off on Halloween day at Veteran Stadium. What could go wrong?

This is another case of not knowing a lot about the play in question, but we do have quite the photo from Getty Images. Quarterback Don Horn’s helmet has come off, and Schnitker — No. 64 on the right — has his back to the play in which Horn will lose the ball. It then will end up in the hands of Schnitker, who receives quite the trick (or treat?) in his gift bag for the 11-yard loss.

Denver Broncos offensive lineman Mike Schnitker, No. 64, would end up catching the pass on this wild play. (Getty Images)

The Eagles almost blew a 10-point lead late but hung on to win, 17-16.

Detroit Lions Offensive tackle Rocky Freitas, minus-8

Rockne Crowningburg Freitas was his birth name, one of the best we’ve come across, and he’s one of the most celebrated Polynesian players of his era. He had a solid career with the Lions, a fixture at right tackle from 1969 to 1976, starting every game in that period. But he’s one of those players you almost never hear about now.

Green Bay Packers Halfback Fred Provo, minus-9 yards

Provo might have had a short NFL career, but his impact on society was big. He served as an Army paratrooper in World War II, getting wounded in the Battle of the Bulge and earning a noble two Purple Hearts. His war-addled health kept him from playing more than nine games for Curly Lambeau’s Pack in 1948, but Provo a pretty decent punt and kick returner that one year.

He also ran the ball 29 times for 90 yards and caught four passes for minus-9 yards. One of those catches went for 3 yards. We’re guessing the other three didn’t go so well. Again, incomplete stats and all that. Not too many rotogeeks back then.

Houston Texans Quarterback Brock Osweiler, minus-14 yards

This was the Osweiler-in-Houston experience summed up in one play — a failed play-action pass that was intended to be caught by an offensive tackle (Duane Brown) and instead was caught by the roundly reviled QB:

“An incredible mistake right there,” ESPN’s Jon Gruden said of the Osweiler magic. He left his mark there, that’s for sure. You’re going to like this guy, Cleveland.

Baltimore/Indianapolis Colts Colts: Jim Harbaugh, minus-9 yards

It had to be Harbaugh. In a 1995 game against the Jets, Harbaugh had a pass batted back by Marvin Washington and he caught it for a 9-yard loss. We wish there was more to the story, but there really doesn’t appear to be. The Colts kicked the field goal on the drive and went on to win, 17-10, in a season sweep of their then-division rivals.

Of course, that ’95 season was storybook one for the Colts, and it came up just a bit short as Harbaugh’s Hail Mary attempt was incomplete in the AFC title game.

Jacksonville Jaguars Quarterback Byron Leftwich, minus-7 yards

Another story without much meat on the bone, it seems. Leftwich caught his own pass, deflected by Tommy Kelly, and though the 7-yard loss knocked the Jags out of field-goal range, they hung on to win, 13-6 at the Raiders in a crummy Week 17 game. One reason why: Leftwich was not good that day, but he still was better than Kerry Collins, who threw three picks and fumbled at the Jacksonville 2-yard line on fourth down and goal with 40 seconds left. Blech.

Kansas City Chiefs Quarterback Tony Adams, minus-7 yards

What a strange career Adams had in pro football. He was drafted by the Chargers (in Round 14) but never played for the team and ended up as the World Football League tri-MVP that season (as in, he shared the award with two other dudes). Adams then played for the Chiefs for a few years, starting four games and not doing much in them. The wild part is that after a stint in the CFL that ended in 1980, Adams actually played during the strike season of 1987, starting three games despite not playing football for seven years. That should give you an idea the talent level that some teams were trotting out while the stars were on the picket line.

His entry into Chiefs all-time lore came when he mopped up at the end of a 28-3 Chiefs loss to the Steelers in 1975. Adams had played a few snaps before that game, but these were his first official pass attempts of his NFL career. He threw five passes that day and three were caught: one to Chiefs wideout Barry Pearson for 22 yards, one to himself for minus-7 and one to Steelers Hall of Fame cornerback Mel Blount for a pick.

San Diego/Los Angeles Chargers Quarterback Tobin Rote, minus-11 yards

Rote finished off a really underappreciated NFL career with two years with the Chargers in 1963 and 1964, followed by a swan-song season with the Denver Broncos in 1966. In his final season with the Chargers, Rote struggled to regain his early-career magic and was benched as the starting QB.

Not only did he struggle to pass the ball effectively that season, he also struggled as a runner. He rushed nine times for a total of minus-11 yards in 1964 after being a rushing threat for much of his career. But that wasn’t his only negative yardage total that season, as he lost 11 yards on a failed trick pass from Lance Allworth in what would be the penultimate start of his NFL career — a 49-6 drubbing at the hands of the middling Chiefs two weeks before the playoffs. And the Chargers were actually in the postseason that year! But they lost their first game, as Rote struggled and was shipped away.

If there’s a bright side it’s that Rote’s career receiving yardage stands at a respectable plus-28 with a TD catch thanks to a few wily plays earlier in his Packers glory days.

Cleveland/St. Louis/Los Angeles Rams Tailback-quarterback Parker Hall, minus-16 yards

Nicknamed “Bullet,” Hall truly was a Renaissance Man after the Rams used the third overall pick in 1939 on the former Ole Miss star. He punted. He ran the ball. He threw it. He returned punts and kicks. He even won the MVP award as a rookie that year, running the ball 120 times, throwing it 208 and punting it 58 — an unheard-of combination of numbers, even at the time when it was all hands on deck for some teams.

The one thing he didn’t do? Catch the ball. Oh, sure, this was an era where games averaged about 257 pass yards — that would be both teams combined, mind you. But the fact that Hall caught a mere one pass in his first four brilliant seasons (before being shipped off to World War II) appears downright goofy through today’s lenses.

Of course, that pass was for minus-16, and maybe the Rams thought … well, that didn’t work, so we might as well stick with what does. All’s well that ends well. Hall caught two passes for 25 after returning from war with the San Francisco 49ers in 1946 to lift his career receiving total to a gaudy plus-9. Oh, what might have been, had the Rams figured out how to unleash him in the passing game. They had other guys who could throw the ball, but it turned out that he was the best at it most of the time.

Miami Dolphins Quarterback Dan Marino, minus-6 yards

Marino went his first 180 NFL games without catching a pass, which is no surprise considering he was the best pure passer of his generation and a pretty statuesque one at that. His longest career run traveled 15 yards, and he never caught a pass in his brilliant four-year college career at Pitt, either, so this all made perfect sense.

But Marino’s first career reception came at an odd crossroads in his career in 1995. That was considered to be perhaps his last great season in the NFL, and on the day it happened Marino threw for 333 yards against the Patriots and broke Fran Tarkenton’s NFL career record for passing yardage. However, it came in a surprising loss that day in a season that ended with the Dolphins finishing a game behind the Bills for the division title. Marino had a chance to tie the game early in the fourth quarter when, but the 6-yard loss came on fourth down after Chris Slade swatted it back to him.

Miami Dolphins quarterback Dan Marino salutes the fans in this 1995 game against the Patriots, but not for his first career reception. (AP)

The Dolphins would go on to lose their wild-card game at Buffalo, a team they had beaten by three scores earlier in the season, in Don Shula’s final game as coach.

Minnesota Vikings Quarterback Christian Ponder, minus-15

Some of these are just downright poetic. Ponder is one of the more disliked recent Vikings quarterbacks, as many fans feel he was a symbol for some of the team’s shortcomings after Brett Favre left the team while Adrian Peterson remains in his prime. Basically, Ponder was an easy mark, as the Vikings had not landed anyone else who gave them a better chance to win at QB.

That doesn’t mean he played well, either. But the game in which he caught his own deflected pass for minus-15 yards, Ponder actually was decent. The loss didn’t knock the Vikes out of field-goal range even! And they won, 34-24. Fun for all.

Of course, that season Ponder threw for 2,935 yards — the fewest of any 16-game starting quarterback over the past decade, per Pro Football Reference, but he safely was 36 yards behind Joe Flacco’s 2008 passing total, so the backward pass didn’t affect that. Of course, that would have been even more poetic had that been the case.

New England Patriots Offensive lineman Logan Mankins and quarterback Drew Bledsoe, minus-9 yards

Another tie, and another fun one. We previously enjoyed writing about Mankins’ only NFL touchdown, which came in the wild 2006 AFC title game between the Colts and Patriots — truly an all-time classic in that rivalry.

Mankins’ only career regular-season reception came the following fall, as he caught a pass from Tom Brady for nearly an anti-first down. Mankins was flagged for illegal touching on the play, so it was not a batted pass (the penalty was declined, to take the loss of yards and down). Mankins now — and likely forever — holds the distinction of recording the “shortest” pass play in Brady’s career, so that’s something.

As for the guy Brady replaced, Bledsoe had his minus-9er a few weeks after Marino’s own catch, and this one was similar. Ray Seals batted the ball back to Bledsoe, who caught it and got smeared by Kevin Greene and Greg Lloyd. Sounds like a fun day at the office. Seals — who is famous for having a successful NFL career despire never playing college football — was in Bledsoe’s grill all day, earlier forcing a fumble that was run back for a score.

And Seals also has a fascinating tie-in here, as the unofficial patron saint of passes batted back into the hands of quarterbacks. He’s also famous for being the guy to deflect Brett Favre’s first Packers completion in 1992 that, yes, ended up being caught by Favre himself.

New Orleans Saints Quarterback Archie Manning, minus-7 yards

This also makes sense. The Saints were awful during Manning’s days as QB, through little fault of his own, and he made a name and endeared himself with the team’s fans for his anything-can-happen playmaking ability. Midway through his rookie season, Manning and Edd Hargett (yes, two Ds) were flip-flopping at QB and Manning had replaced an ineffective Hargett (1-of-12 passing, 10 yards) against the Browns in December 1971.

New York Giants Fullback Merwin Hodel, minus-15 yards

Hodel is a long-forgotten player who lasted a mere two games with the Giants during their only losing season in a 15-year stretch from 1949 to 1963. In his first action, Hodel rushed five times for 11 yards and caught one pass for minus-5 in a blowout loss to the Eagles. His next game, a 14-10 loss to the Steelers, resulted in one touch: a catch for minus-10. The Giants had seen enough at that point. And that’s how you arrive at a career with minus-4 yards from scrimmage. Sorry, Merwin.

New York Titans/New York Jets Offensive guard-linebacker-defensive end Bob O’Neil, minus-13 yards

O’Neil played at two colleges (Notre Dame and Duquesne) and played three positions for two NFL teams, the Steelers and Titans, who later became the Jets, and also played in the CFL for one season. He didn’t do much noteworthy during his pro football career and there’s not much written about his playing days. The most interesting thing we dug up:

His nickname was ‘Huck’ coming from his adventurous spirit and his dislike for shoes as a youngster like Huckleberry Finn.

That’s just wonderful. O’Neil also served in the Korean War with the Air Force, so hats off to him. But he also found his way into franchise history for his one offensive touch at the Polo Grounds (played on a Thursday, reported attendance: 12,023) in 1961, a 13-yard loss against the Bills, the details of which might be lost to history.

Los Angeles/Oakland Raiders Offensive guard Gabe Jackson, minus-5 yards

Jackson had two catches as a rookie in 2014 — a 1-yard grab in his NFL debut and a catch for minus-6 later that season. The first one came when Derek Carr’s pass was almost picked, bouncing off the hands of the Jets’ Muhammad Wilkerson and into those of Jackson, the starting left guard.

The second came in Week 13 that year, and we’re not sure it was witnessed by any actual humans other than the men playing in the game. It came near the end of the first half, with the Raiders trailing 38-0 in what would become a 52-zip blowout by the Rams (!). Jeff Fisher and Tony Sparano, then the Raiders’ interim, were the head coaches that day. Whew boy, this one feels like it was 10 years ago, not less than three.

Jackson caught a deflected screen off the hands of fullback Marcel Reece, who got tattooed on the play. Not a fun day for Jackson or any of his teammates.

Philadelphia Eagles Defensive lineman-offensive lineman Reggie Singletary, minus-11 yards

The Dolphins beat the Eagles by a score of 28-10 in Week 14 of the 1987 season, and the final pass Randall Cunningham completed that day was to Singletary, who had switched from defense to offense and was a reserve guard getting a few reps at the end of the game. The catch went for the entire minus-11, his only career touch, and Cunningham dropped from 200 passing yards to 189 in the game. For his career, Cunningham threw for 29,979, so he would have been tantalizingly close to 30K — a plateau only 44 QBs have surpassed — had ol’ Reg just let the ball hit the terrible turf of Veterans Stadium.

Pittsburgh Steelers Quarterback Ben Roethlisberger, minus-11 yards

Steelers fans know all too well: Watch Big Ben long enough and you’ll see greatness, with a little crazy mixed in. That’s why his minus-11 yards are so beautiful — they’re spread out over three different losses (and one gain) over four seasons.

The only official reception in Roethlisberger’s 13-year career came in 2008 against the Browns in Cleveland in Week 2. Although the batted pass back to himself went for negative yards, there actually was a net gain on the play when Browns defensive lineman Shaun Smith was called for a facemask against Ben. Adding insult, what was originally ruled as a sack for Smith was changed on the official stat sheet the following day when Elias Sports Bureau determined that the ball left Ben’s hand and hit off a teammate back to himself. Weird.

Roethlisberger actually gained 5 yards — without the benefit of a reception — on the final play of a six-point loss to the Miami Dolphins in 2013, catching a lateral on a Stanford band type of play that failed on the snowy field that day. The same thing happened the following season in a loss to the Buccaneers, except that Ben fumbled and the ball was recovered 6 yards backward, which (odd statistical quirk) resulted in minus-6 receiving yards for him.

Ben Roethlisberger gained 5 of his minus-11 career receiving yards in this 2013 game against the Dolphins. (AP)

And what do you know? On another game-ending Lateralpalooza in 2015, Roethlisberger again fumbled and when teammate DeAngelo Williams recovered it, that play was chalked up as minus-3 receiving yards without Ben actually catching a real pass. Clearly, the Steelers work on these plays in practice, although one certainly could argue the efficacy of them hasn’t been all that good. But add them all up, the three losses and the one gain, and Roethlisberger’s career receiving total stands at minus-11. That’s just the way these yards always have been recorded, strange as it might seem.

San Francisco 49ers Quarterback Blaine Gabbert, minus-16 yards

This one might hold up for a century, or perhaps longer. In Gabbert’s first start with Chip Kelly as coach, the final result — a 28-0 win over the Los Angeles Rams — was good. But Gabbert was barely passable in the game, and had the 49ers lost that one we might have been all over him for catching his own rejected pass and then (the funniest part) thinking he could make something of it.

The funniest part is the official NFL Game Book, which credits Gabbert with minus-4 yards worth of YAC. Just delightful. He brings his talents to the Cardinals this season, to the joy of many.

Seattle Seahawks Quarterback Trent Dilfer and right guard Bryan Millard, minus-5 yards

Another odd OL-QB duo you’d never expect to see on the same list. Millard was a good starter for much of the 80s for the Seahawks, a blue-collar performer who somehow went undrafted (back when the draft was 12 rounds) and spent two years in the USFL before making his mark in the NFL. In the 1987 opener, Seahawks QB Dave Krieg was solid in the first half and terrible in the second. He threw three picks, and Millard caught a 5-yard deflected pass to start a drive that ended in a red-zone fumble. But as far as we are concerned, the Millard catch was maybe the most insignificant catch in NFL history. Or certainly one of them.

The Dilfer play was equally as meaningless. He replaced an ineffective Matt Hasselbeck after halftime — the two later worked together at ESPN — and was beat up in his place. Kenard Lang batted a ball back to Dilfer for, you guessed it, a minus-5 that no normal human being should remember, save for Lang’s family. The tie between Dilfer and Lang? They were later teammates with the Cleveland Browns, both Walter Payton Man of the Year nominees for the club. So there you have it.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers Quarterback Brian Griese, minus-4 yards

Congrats are in order for Griese, who carries the highest low-water mark for any team. So that’s worth something. The play in question came in a 31-24 loss to the Chargers in 2004, and it was a rough series for Griese: caught his own pass on first down for minus-4 on first down; incomplete pass on second; third down was a strip sack on his own 28-yard line that turned into a Chargers field goal.

What’s funny is that Griese had a minus-6 catch of his own pass as a member of the Broncos in a win over the eventual champion Patriots in a game in 2001. But given Mike Schnitker’s minus-11 Griese safely escaped leading two franchises for the fewest receiving yards.

Houston Oilers/Tennessee Titans Quarterback-kicker George Blanda, minus-23 yards

The king of all negative yards, ladies and gents. With a minus-16 against the Chargers in the first meeting in 1961 (the Oilers lost that one but got revenge in the first AFL title game at the end of that season) and 7 yards lost in 1964 in the Week 1 loss, again to the Chargers, he made franchise history. We’re assuming Marcus Mariota will try to avoid this mark as much as possible going forward (see what we did there?).

Washington Redskins Quarterback Shane Mathews, minus-13 yards

I was watching a show about the first SEC title game on the SEC Network the other day, and Matthews mentioned to one of the Bama guys that he played 13 years in the NFL. I assumed he was totally kidding. Then I looked it up. Thirteen years! Dude wasn’t kidding.

How fitting then. On Oct. 27, 2002 as the Redskins’ starting QB, Matthews caught his own batted pass and lost that baker’s dozen — one negative yard for every season he was on an NFL roster.

(Hat tip: Steve Spurrier’s favorite quarterback, or one of them anyway, scrambled for 11 yards on 2nd-and-23 and salvaged a field goal out of that drive at the end of the half of what would end up a 26-21 win over the Colts.)

Matthews was the Chase Daniel of his day. He appeared in a mere 31 lifetime games, starting only 15, but likely has a sweet pension set up. Good for him. Mothers, breed your babies to be clipboard holders. And Matthews even has a fun little spot in Redskins lore with the fewest receiving yards in the franchise annals. Something he can boast about on talk radio maybe.

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Eric Edholm is a writer for Shutdown Corner on Yahoo Sports. Have a tip? Email him at edholm@yahoo-inc.com or follow him on Twitter!

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