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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

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Always be my plus one - part 2

Ok I know that I should use a different gif for each part but I'm not going to. But here's part 2! It's longer than the first part so have fun.

People to thank who are amazing and I owe my whole life to even though I'm probably forgetting someone because I'm the worst: @zinka8 (I CAN FINALLY TAG YOU) @hockeywocs @calgarycanuck @chara-hugs @justjosty anyone who sent in an anon and again I'm forgetting someone so if you helped me with this and I forgot, yell at me.

But here we go! This is about 9k words, and, fun fact, this is also my 5,000th post on this blog, so that's exciting!

Hope you like it!

Read part 1 here!

Series masterlist --------------------------------

New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day

New Year’s Eve is the last day of the Georgian calendar year, marked with celebrations that last well into the next day. Huge parties take place around the world, one of the most notable being the ball dropping in Times Square in New York City, marking the new year for the eastern coast of the United States, televised with Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve hosted by Ryan Seacrest. This special each year includes a packed Times Square, performances, interviews, and general excitement to put whatever happened in the past year behind them. Likewise, in Canada, the CBC has hosted a similar countdown special since 2017, including live music and coverage of festivities in each of the provinces and timezones the country spans.

New Year’s Day is the first day of the Georgian calendar year, again marked with celebrations. In the United States, various parades take place, including the Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena, California, or the Mummers Parade in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In addition, various sporting events take place as well, including the Citrus Bowl in Orlando, Florida, the Outback Bowl in Tampa Bay, Florida, the Rose Bowl Game in Pasadena, California, and the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans, Louisiana, all post-season college football games, and the National Hockey League's outdoor game, the Winter Classic, typical showcasing a major regional rivalry. The day typically includes people already failing at keeping up with their New Year’s resolutions, whatever it was they promised to do every day of the year (such as working out, flossing, getting more sleep) already not going well.

=============

December 27, 2021

Lucy had insisted Anne go with her to the mall to go shopping when she found out that she was going to a New Year’s Eve party with Tyson’s teammates. Once her older sister found out that Anne’s ‘mystery man’ was a professional hockey player, she went practically bat shit trying to figure out more information about the two of them since Anne had yet to tell her anything.

If only she knew there was nothing to tell.

“Come on, what about this?” Lucy asks, holding up a dress. Anne wasn't sure that it would go past her butt, not to mention the open back and the plunging neckline. Lucy had to know that Anne would never, on any occasion, wear a dress like that. It would look good on Lucy, and Lucy would be comfortable in it, but not Anne.

“No,” Anne tells her, continuing to look through the rack for anything that had more fabric to it than what Lucy was offering her. There was nothing wrong with the dresses, really, and Lucy was normally pretty good about picking things out that Anne would actually like, but something about this being a dress for what sort of was, sort of wasn’t a date with a guy she spilled her coffee all over was making her more nervous than she needed to me.

“But it’s for your man. On New Year’s Eve. It doesn’t hurt to look a little sexy,” Lucy begs, making sure to add a little shoulder shimmy at the word ‘sexy’ for emphasis.

‘He’s not my man,’ Anne wanted to say. But she wasn’t about to spill that secret before Lucy even met him. It would be easier to just tell them they broke up by Valentine’s Day. “Tyson wouldn’t want me to wear anything that would make me uncomfortable,” she lets out instead.

Lucy sighs, pulling out dress after dress to show to Anne. “Ok, how about this: what color do you want to wear and how long do you want it to be?” Anne shrugs, not having thought about it in the slightest. “Well what’s Tyson wearing? Are you matching with him?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Annie!” Lucy practically screams the nickname her family decided they were going to call her, a few of the other store patrons turning to glare at Lucy’s outburst. “How do you not know what your boyfriend is wearing to a Colorado Avalanche New Year’s Eve party?”

'Not my boyfriend' she thought. “I don’t dress him. Do you know what Jason is going to wear for every party?”

Rolling her eyes, she holds up another dress that Anne turns down. “Well, since I’ve known my man since we were in diapers, I know his style, and therefore, know what he could potentially wear before I tell him what he’s going to wear.”

Anne lets out a sigh, wandering away from her sister while she continues to go through what seemed to be endless rows of dresses. Part of Anne wished she was like her sister: lucky enough to find a man that she would love forever when she was young, never having to worry about anything. The other part of Anne wished her family wasn’t so annoying about her finding a man, wishing that Sebby didn’t steal her phone and see Tyson’s name, and that their mom hadn’t come down and jumped to conclusions before she had a chance to defend herself.

“Hey,” Lucy comes up to Anne, “Why don’t we grab some food and then try a different store.” Anne nods, Lucy linking her arm in her sisters before taking her out of the store. “Have you met any of Tyson’s teammates before? I mean, you have to mean a lot to him if he’s bringing around the guys he spends the most time with.”

“He’s told me a little bit about all of them, but I haven’t met them yet.”

“You know this is big, then, right?” Lucy says, finding a line at the food court for them to order from.

Even if Lucy hadn’t picked a place that Anne wasn’t too fond of, her words made Anne lose her appetite. As far as she knew, Anne’s family thought they were dating, which they weren’t, while Tyson’s teammates thought they were friends, which they were. That’s what they had agreed to. They just needed to make it to New Year’s Day and then this would all be over.

Lucy keeps talking, rattling off information about Tyson’s teammates that Anne was sure she had found on their Wikipedia pages, Lucy’s ‘top of her class,’ ‘photographic memory’ coming out while Anne stayed silent.

“Look, Anne,” Lucy says once she gets the food she ordered for both of them, “if he likes you enough to bring you around his teammates, that’s a good thing. Think of it like Jason asking me to go to his soccer games when we were freshmen. He wants you to be at something important for him.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Anne shrugs, “I’m worried about bringing him into the belly of the beast the next afternoon.”

“Why, because you’ll be hungover and Ma and Dad haven’t seen you that way yet?” Lucy asks, smiling with her fork between her teeth.

Throwing her head back and groaning, Anne starts, “No. Ideally, we’ll still be drunk and calling you or Matthew to come to pick us up. Remember what Mom was like when I introduced you all to Andy?”

“Well, yeah, it was hate at first sight. And she was right to feel that way, obviously. If you think Tyson is the ‘one,’ then you’ll be fine.”

Anne chokes on the fries she was picking at when Lucy says that. “The ‘one’? Please. I wouldn’t know if he was the ‘one’ at this point. Right now, he’s my ‘plus one' at best.”

Lucy shrugs, a sly smile on her face as the two of them continue to eat in silence.

The two of them venture to another store, Anne not having high hopes in finding a dress, knowing that she was going to have to resort to wearing something old that probably wouldn’t be very ‘New Year’s Eve’ themed, or borrow something from Lucy, who, albeit having great style, definitely didn’t have anything that she would want to wear. Maybe she could call Stephanie or her cousin Lauren and see if they could pity her enough to let her borrow something.

Lucy went to the dress rack, Anne just wandered around the store. At this point, she didn’t even care if she found a dress; a long shirt would be just fine. She was nowhere near her sister or the dresses, but she saw something out of place, a skirt and sleeves peeking out in the middle of pant legs. She picked up the dress, solid black, which would probably fit her like a glove, off the shoulder. A black choker, which she had, and a nice pair of heels would make the dress perfect. And it was even on sale. Someone had probably put it there in order to hide it, but Anne didn’t know that for a fact, so could she really feel bad about wearing it?

She practically ran through the store to find her sister, grabbing her by the arm to the dressing room despite the stack of dresses on Lucy’s arm that were probably going to end up back on the rack or in Lucy’s own closet.

Anne looked at herself in the mirror, excited for the first time for Tyson to see her on New Year’s Eve wearing something like that. The two had been talking nonstop, but Anne had made it clear they were friends and that she wasn’t looking for anything. If something came along, she would know it, and honestly, she didn’t know it with Tyson.

But picturing him seeing her in the dress gave her a glimmer of hope that it was Tyson, even if he wasn’t the ‘one’ like Lucy had been badgering her about earlier.

“Hey, Annie, come on!” Lucy snaps Anne out of her fantasy, banging on the door to show her, “Jason texted me that he and the girls are going to be home in an hour with dinner so you can’t take all day.”

“You really think putting on this dress is going to take an hour?” Anne huffs, opening the door from the dressing room stall.

“Well, it depends on how many dresses you try,” Lucy starts, cutting herself off when she sees her sister in the dress. “Oh, Anne.”

“You like it?” she asks, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. It was a simple dress, knit and insignificant. She had no idea why she was so excited about it.

“I do,” Lucy says, coming up behind Anne and resting her chin on her sister’s shoulder as the two of them admire Anne in the mirror. “And you know who else is going to love it? Tyson.”

Anne took in a deep breath, Lucy rubbing her back between her shoulders before she let her get changed back into her clothes. ‘Tyson was going to love it.’ Anne hoped so.

=============

December 31, 2021

Tyson said he was going to be at Anne’s place at 9:15 to pick her up and drop off stuff at her place to stay over. Since they were going to be together all night, it was easier if Tyson stayed with Anne after the party before needing to drive to Anne’s uncle’s house the next afternoon.

But it was 9:30, and Anne was sitting on her couch, waiting for the boy who was supposed to fake being her boyfriend tomorrow to show up to take her to a party with a bunch of people who had no idea who she was or that this scenario was going to be happening the next day.

How did Anne end up like this? What if he didn’t show up? Why did she let her mom and siblings take over the conversation about her life and let them believe that Tyson was her boyfriend? And why did he agree to it?

Anne gets snapped out of her downward spiral of thoughts by her phone ringing, Tyson calling to hopefully tell her that he was waiting to be let in. “You said you were going to be here at 9:15,” she answers, not letting Tyson say anything.

“Well, traffic,” he explains, “It’s New Year’s Eve and I didn’t want to speed, either, and end up getting pulled over for that. Can you come let me in? It’s cold.”

Anne gets up from her couch, venturing downstairs in the slippers she was keeping on until the last minute. The heels Lucy had let her borrow weren’t uncomfortable, but she wasn’t about to wear them around her apartment building if she didn’t have to. She spots Tyson sitting on the couches in the lobby, going up to him. He was looking down at his phone, but seeing him made her heart race. He had on a white button-down with the top two buttons undone, a black jacket, and black pants on. She goes up to him, resting her hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Tyson looks up, unable to find the words when he sees Anne. He stands up, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Anne sees this and lets out a small laugh. “Are you ok?” she asks, her nerves of seeing him dissipate while he acts like this.

“You’re,” he starts, letting out a breath as he looks her up and down. He shakes his head, a lazy smile on his face. “You’re beautiful.”

Anne laughs, grabbing his bag for him and leading him back upstairs to her apartment. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“You know,” Tyson starts when the two of them get to her door, “pretending to be your boyfriend really isn’t going to be that difficult.”

“Yeah,” Anne scoffs, putting down Tyson’s bag with a thud by the couch, “and if you keep flirting with me like you mean it, then they’ll really believe you.” Anne’s back was turned to Tyson, so she didn’t see the look on his face, him biting his lip at her words that she thought he was just pretending. “You’re staying over for a night, what the hell could you have brought with you?” she asks him.

Tyson clears his throat, still not over Anne’s little dig about him pretending to flirt with her. He’s been flirting with her since they met, has she really not noticed? “Uh, you didn’t tell me how formal or casual this is at your uncle’s so I just packed a few options.”

“Huh, I never pegged you for a fashionista,” Anne teases, putting on her shoes and coat as Tyson orders the Uber to take them to the venue.

“Apparently you’re never going to peg me at all,” Tyson mumbles, not loud enough for Anne to hear.

“Sorry?”

“Uh, the Uber will be here in a few minutes so we should get downstairs,” he tries to save himself.

“But,” Anne says, locking her door and following Tyson back down to the lobby, “You can pretty much wear anything to Uncle Vince’s house as long as it isn’t a Juventus shirt.”

“Juventus?”

“That’s Napoli’s biggest rival. It would be like me wearing, I don’t know,” Anne says as they both get into the car that had pulled up, “a Red Wings or a Wild shirt to something for you guys.”

Tyson can’t help but smile, even though he knows it’s probably meaningless. Anne had made it clear that the two of them were just friends. But what if, “you like hockey?”

Anne shrugs, looking out the window as they drove into the city. “I don’t hate it, but I couldn’t tell you much about it. I’m more of a basketball girl, honestly.” Tyson scoffs, Anne turning to him. She had a smile on her face, trying to hide the slight insult she felt by the noise he made. “What?”

“Hockey is clearly better.”

“You’re just biased.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” he teases her, reaching over and nudging her arm. His hand lingers on her arm for a little bit, not really thinking about Anne’s noticeable settling into his touch. “Um,” he clears his throat, taking his arm back and praying that it was dark enough that Anne couldn’t see the red on his face, “What are your teams?”

“Men’s are the Nuggets, of course, women are the Seattle Storm, and college I go for UConn.”

“Did you go there?”

Anne shakes her head, Tyson admiring the way her hair framed her face, thankful that she was looking out the window instead of at him. “Nope, I went to CU Denver. My dad’s other brother, Johnny, went to UConn, and when I was born, that was around the start of the women’s dynasty that they have. When my dad was away on trips and mom was working, he and Aunt Lisa would watch the four of us and always have the UConn games on. I fell in love with Diana Taurasi, Sue Bird, Maya Moore, Stephanie Dolson. I grew up wanting to play basketball and be like them, so I played basketball.”

“Did you in college?”

“No,” Anne laughs, looking at the building they were pulling up to. “I played until high school, and was definitely not good enough to play in college. I still love it, though.”

Tyson smiles at her, getting out of the car and rushing to the other side to help her out, linking his arm in hers to escort her in. “I love that,” he whispers to her, walking in and thankful that he had Anne on his arm that night.

The guys weren’t necessarily on his case about finding someone the way it seemed like Anne’s parents were, but that didn’t stop the chirping about him never having a girlfriend for as long as he was on the team. They knew she was his friend, but, hey, it was better than nothing.

Anne had no idea where Tyson took her, not recognizing the building they had walked into, but she was speechless at the sight of the grand ballroom, the lighting just dim enough that she couldn’t help but feel at peace, the noise from Tyson’s teammates and their families taking that away and leaving her overwhelmed. Tyson had slipped away to hang up their coats and grab drinks, leaving Anne to fend for herself for the time being.

She knew they weren’t late by any means but based on the sobriety, or lack thereof, that everyone was displaying, an outsider would think that Tyson and Anne had shown up hours late, everyone seemingly on at least their third drink of the night, if not more. Anne worked her way to the side of the room, giving herself a good view of the bar where Tyson was, hoping that he could find her after he was done chatting with whoever it was that had his attention.

“You look almost too comfortable for someone just watching everyone on the side. Who are you here with?” someone interrupts her thoughts. She snaps her attention to the mystery man standing next to her, leaning against the wall and looking out at the crowd as they danced and sang, drank and had fun. He was the same height as Tyson, just about, probably not that much younger but the rosiness on his cheeks made him look years younger than both her and Tyson.

“I’m here with Tyson,” she tells him, waving to the guy who was supposed to be by her side that night.

“You’re the girl who spilled her coffee on him when we went to the hospital for the charity event,” Rosy Boy laughs.

Anne scoffs, “I wish that wasn’t my legacy, but here we are.”

The two of them stand and watch everyone, laughing as some of the kids pretend to chase around the adults, one of them catching someone by the leg as the man pretended to fall down. “That’s our captain, Gabe,” Rosy Boy tells her, “being chased by Naylah, Nazem’s daughter.”

“So, Gabe, Nazem, Tyson,” Anne says, pointing at the only three men of the Avalanche that she knew, “You?”

“Cale Makar.”

“Anne DeFormicola.”

Cale smiles at her, turning his body so he was facing her directly. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Anne could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, thankful that her hair was down to cover the red that she knew had appeared on her ears. “Uh, are you and Tyson together?” Cale asks, his voice shaking as he prayed he didn’t make the mistake of flirting with one of his teammate’s girls.

“No,” Anne tells him, “We’re just friends.”

Cale lets out a sigh of relief. “Good, I, uh,” he stammers, Anne’s confused look making him nervous despite the smile that was on her face, “I mean, good, good for me. You? Us? I don’t know what I’m saying.”

The two of them laugh together, Anne seeing Tyson out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look particularly thrilled as he watched her and Cale talking, the distance between them shrinking as the conversation proceeded.

Before she knew it, Tyson was by her side, a glass of wine in hand for her that he practically thrust in her hand. “So, how’s Cale treating you?” Tyson asks, not hiding the discontent he felt seeing Anne and Cale so obviously flirting.

Anne watches Tyson down his drink, a little too fast for her liking, especially considering Cale was obviously uncomfortable by what his teammate was doing in that moment. “Very well, we were having a good conversation.” Anne sips her wine, Cale mumbling something and slipping away. “What was that about?”

“I want you to be careful?” Tyson says as if it were obvious, even though he was lying. He didn’t want to have to see Anne flirting with his teammate all night.

“Of who, Cale? Didn’t you tell me he was the human equivalent of a puppy?” Tyson rolls his eyes, looking over to the bar and already wishing he had more to drink before having this conversation. “What’s the worst he’s going to do? Bite my ankles? Bark when he wants to go play outside?”

“Ok, you’re being mean.”

“And you’re being ridiculous.” Anne studies his face, the way he bit his lip as he tried to find his words. “You remind me of Sebby.”

“Your little brother?” Tyson asks, not really wanting to be compared to him.

“He’s really protective of me. We’re all protective of each other, but he’s especially protective of me. You’re probably the same way with Kacey, right?”

Tyson swallows hard, nodding. “Yeah.” He wasn’t even just friend-zoned: he was sibling-zoned.

“You just don’t want me to get hurt,” Anne reasons, already finishing her wine. It’s not like it was that much in the glass. “I think if anyone was going to hurt me, it wouldn’t be Cale.”

The two of them stand there, watching Tyson’s teammates dancing as the music changed to something more upbeat. On the nearest table, Tyson put down his and Anne’s empty glasses, extending his hand out to Anne in a bid to lead her to the dance floor. Anne hesitates, not really too fond of dancing, but then Tyson smiled at her, raising his eyebrows, and for whatever reason, she felt like she had to go with him.

His hand found the small of her back, holding her close enough that they could still talk over the blaring from the music, his other hand in hers as he tried to get her to move to the rhythm of the song. It’s not that Anne was uncoordinated, but she just wasn’t that great with dancing. “I would have thought you were better at this,” Tyson teases her, looking down at their feet as Anne steps on for what he thought was the fourth time.

“I will gladly go back to my place against the wall and watch you make a fool out of yourself by yourself instead,” she jokes, rolling her eyes as Tyson spins her around.

He pulls her in closer than before, the music changing to a slower song. “I don’t think you want to do that,” Tyson tells her, his forehead pressed against hers. He could kiss her right now if she let him. This was technically their second date, if they considered the coffee place their first. And Tyson did. He didn’t know why he wanted this girl in front of him so badly so fast, but there was just something about her that he had to be with her.

Before Anne could say anything, she feels someone tapping on her shoulder. Pulling away from Tyson, she sees Cale standing there, his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. His entire face was red, clearly nervous, as he started, “Uh, sorry, but I was wondering if I could dance with Anne?”

Anne smiles at him, looking over at Tyson to signal that she wanted to. Cale was adorable, and something about him left Anne unable to say no to him. Tyson gives a sad smile, releasing Anne from his grasp. “I’m going to go get another drink,” he says, leaving his date and teammate alone to be closer than they were before. He couldn’t be with a girl that didn’t want to be with him, he thought, downing the drink he got probably too fast. At least tomorrow he could pretend that the two of them were together, pretending that he was hers and she was his.

But for now, he had to watch Anne smiling and staring at Cale, his teammate holding her so close that Tyson wanted nothing more than to be Cale.

Tyson had his back against the bar, watching Cale and Anne dance and have fun when JT came up to him. “Didn’t you bring a date?” JT was the only one Tyson had told about the fake dating plan between him and Anne.

“Yep.”

“She in the bathroom?”

“She’s dancing with Cale,” Tyson says, raising what he thinks was his third drink in their direction. He was praying that they couldn’t get any closer than they were now, but the way Anne was smiling, he knew that was what she wanted.

JT looks between Anne and Cale together and Tyson’s near angry expression as he took another sip of his drink. “Oh, I get it,” JT realizes, Tyson side-eyeing his friend. “You like her, and now you’re seeing her with Cale and you’re jealous.”

Tyson could feel himself start to panic. He did like her, but he wasn’t about to let everyone know that. “No,” he lies, JT scoffing at him. He hated that he knew him so well. “Maybe.”

“Well, then why aren’t you the one dancing with her?” JT asks, Tyson watching Anne throw her head back laughing, Cale burying his head in her shoulder, a smile just as big as hers on his face.

“She wanted to dance with him. What was I going to do, say ‘no?’

“Yes.”

“No,” he rebuts, signaling the bartender for yet another drink. “At least I can pretend to date her around her family,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, until she pretends to dump you because she’s really dating Cale.”

“Maybe in the new year you should try to be more helpful instead of whatever you are now,” Tyson snaps. “Sorry,” he mumbles into the fresh drink he was bringing to his lips, planning on downing it as fast as he got it. If he had to watch Anne dancing with Cale, he might as well be drunk so he can’t remember it in the morning.

“It’s almost midnight,” Cale whispers to Anne.

“Yeah,” she smirks, having a feeling she knew where this was going, especially judging by the way his grip tightened around her waist.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, getting nervous about what he wanted to ask her. “Who are you kissing at midnight?"

Anne can’t help but smile, his innocence endearing to her. Tyson and JT were still watching the two of them dance even though Anne and Cale were too focused on each other to notice. “I think it depends on your answer,” she flirts.

“I was kind of hoping it would be you,” he tells her.

Anne laughs, “Yeah, I got that,” she tells him, running her hand through his hair at the nape of his neck, sending a chill down his spine. “I was hoping it would be you, too,” she tells him, closing her eyes with their foreheads pressed against each other. She almost wished she had spilled her coffee on Cale instead of Tyson, not needing to pretend to date him tomorrow and instead just date Cale and date him for real. It might have been the alcohol or the night that was making her feel this way, but Cale was not a hard guy to like.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Tyson mumbles, not wanting to see Anne and Cale anymore, setting his drink down and leaving the room before JT could protest.

Soon after, everyone began their countdown to midnight, chanting while Anne and Cale stayed silent.

Anne knew Cale wanted to kiss her before the countdown was over. He was hovering against her lips as soon as someone yelled ‘ten!’ She didn’t know what it was about him, but she was ready to kiss him, not waiting for everyone to get past ‘five’ before she connected with him for a second, already wanting more as soon as they started.

Cale pulled away fast, smiling, moving his hands from her waist to cup her face, kissing her as soon as everyone around them was screaming ‘Happy New Year!’ When they finally pulled away, Cale’s entire face was red, and Anne knew that there was some color on her cheeks, too. Kissing Cale was something else, but something was missing. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

=============

January 1, 2022

Anne and Cale danced a little longer, some of the guys and their families starting to leave.

“I think I have to go find Tyson,” Anne tells Cale, realizing she hadn’t seen the boy she came with for the better part of an hour.

“Uh, wait,” Cale says as Anne starts to pull away, Anne stopping as Cale smiles at her. He puts on her jaw, tilting her head up to kiss her again. “Can I see you again?”

Anne smiles, biting her lip. “I’d like that. But I really have to find Tyson.”

The two of them start walking around, trying to locate their lost boy. “Are you coming back with us?”

“Us?”

“Tys and I live in the same building,” Cale explains, part of him wanting to ask Anne to go home with him.

Before he can, Anne starts, “No, Tyson is staying at my place tonight. We have something tomorrow. Today,” she corrects herself.

“Oh, ok. Well, then, can I get your number?”

“When we find Tyson because he has the ticket for our coats and my phone is in my coat,” she explains, regretting giving everything to Tyson.

“Anne!” they hear someone yell, turning around to see Tyson stumbling over despite JT trying to help him up. Anne hadn’t told him not to get very drunk out of caution for having to deal with her family in a few hours, but now she was regretting forgetting.

“How much did he drink?” Anne panics, slinging Tyson's free arm around her shoulder.

“When I got to him he was already on four and I think he had at least three more while I was with him. I couldn’t tell you what he had on his own,” JT explains, the four of them getting their stuff and trying to get out while Tyson could barely walk.

Tyson mumbles something, trying to lean his head against Anne’s shoulder while they walked, despite the three-inch height difference that would have been bigger had Anne not been wearing heels. JT asks him to repeat it while he orders and Uber to get Tyson and Anne home. “Anne’s so pretty,” Tyson says, practically screaming it in Anne’s ear.

“Thank you, Tyson,” she says, trying to be as sweet as she could despite her anger she felt for him getting this drunk.

Tyson keeps babbling incoherently, none of them wanting to try to figure out what he was saying while they were waiting in their Ubers.

“Hey, Anne, hand me your phone,” JT asks, trying to reach out to her with his free hand while also making sure Tyson didn’t fall over or fall on Anne. She does as he asks, Cale standing there wondering why he didn’t just do that in the first place. “Text me when you two get back to your place and let me know how he is before you leave for your Uncle’s.”

“Yeah, of course,” Anne says, not even thinking about how he would have known where the two of you were going later.

Before Cale can ask for Anne’s phone, the Uber for her and Tyson pulls up. “Are you sure you’re good to get him back?” Cale asks her while JT gets Tyson in the car safely.

Anne nods, putting her hand on Cale’s bicep to reassure him. “Yeah, he should sober up enough to walk with just me during the drive back. Thank you, though,” she says, giving him a quick kiss before climbing into the car.

“I wish it was me,” Tyson slurs, his head on Anne’s shoulder as the Uber pulls away.

“What’s that, Tyson?” Anne asks.

“I wish it was me that was kissing you.”

Anne looks at him, his eyes closed as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “When?”

“At midnight. I wanted to kiss you at midnight. I just hope you didn’t kiss Cale. That would make me sad,” he says, letting out a yawn.

Before Anne could say anything to respond, Tyson was asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts, and the Uber driver probably hoping they remembered this to tell their friends in the morning. Why would he have wanted to kiss her? They were just friends. They had both made it very clear that everything they were doing was just out of friendship because they both needed someone to be there for the other and just pretend they were something they were not.

This wasn’t going to be like one of those ‘fake dating’ tropes that Anne had read in books when she was a teenager or in rom coms. Those weren’t real life. That didn’t happen.

Anne gets Tyson up to her apartment, surprised that she was able to drag him out of the Uber and balance him long enough that he didn’t fall over and take her with him to the ground. She practically threw him onto her bed, getting him in position so no matter what happened he would be fine. He was asleep almost immediately, a soft snore coming from his lips.

Anne pulls out her phone to text JT that his teammate was asleep, getting herself ready to go sleep on the couch.

The next morning, Anne woke up to Tyson sitting at her kitchen table, already having helped himself to a cup of coffee. “You look like you’re feeling great,” Anne commented, Tyson clearly hungover from the night before.

“Why did I wake up in your bed and not your couch?” Tyson asked.

Anne shrugs, fixing herself a cup of coffee to join him. “You’re my guest and the couch isn’t the most comfortable thing to fall asleep on if you aren’t used to it.”

“You are?”

“I’ve fallen asleep plenty of times while I was reading on that couch,” Anne tells him, wishing she had something to offer him to eat. “Uh, when we get to my uncle’s house, there’s going to be a ton of food so if we didn’t eat now, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

Tyson nods, looking down at his coffee. He wished that he didn’t have to pretend to be Anne’s boyfriend. He already wanted to be more, but Cale was already closer to that in one night than Tyson was in how many weeks. “What do I need to know about your family before I meet them?”

Anne starts rambling about her family: her grandparents moved back to New York which was where they grew up so she hasn’t seen them in a while because they’re too old to make the trip out here and she hasn’t had time to make the trip to see them. They were going to her Uncle Vince’s house, her dad’s older brother. He has three kids, Michael, Emily, and Spencer, all of them dating someone. Then there’s Uncle Johnny, her dad’s younger brother, who has two kids, Lauren and Landon, and three grandkids from Lauren: Christopher, Lydia, and Henry.

Tyson didn’t even know if he was going to remember everything she was saying; from the food that Johnny brings just for Landon because of allergies, or the food that was designated as ‘the kid's food’ which was absolutely off-limits unless you were under the age of five years old. The Sam Adams’ beer is only meant for Aunt Lisa and Aunt Laura unless they offer it to you, but the wine is a free for all because it’s guaranteed that everyone of age brought their own bottle anyway, including Anne.

“Wait, but I don’t have a bottle,” Tyson asks, both of them getting up to get ready.

Anne smiles at him, going into one of her cabinets. “You want white or red?” she asks, holding up two bottles. “Because, as you know, I’m partial to red.”

Tyson laughs, taking the bottle of white wine from her, not even sure if he should be drinking anything given the night before. He was just lucky he somehow didn't feel worse despite how much he had. “I knew you were my kind of girl.”

They stand there for a second, neither of them sure how to react or what to do. “We should go get ready,” Anne says, bringing the bottles over to where she kept her keys so she wouldn’t forget them.

She retreats to her room, leaving Tyson to get ready out in the open of the rest of her apartment. That wasn’t a moment they just had in her kitchen, she tells herself. She puts on a pair of jeans, trying to find a shirt suitable enough for her mom to not nag her about, finally settling on a sweater that she was almost sure was Lucy’s that she stole a few months ago.

“Hey, Anne,” she hears Tyson calling her. “Someone’s calling you.”

An unknown number flashed on her screen in Tyson's hand, her forgetting she left the phone by the couch. Normally an unsaved contact was something that she wouldn’t answer, but the Calgary area code, for no reason whatsoever, told her that she had to answer it. “Hello?”

“Anne? It’s Cale. Sorry, I got your number from JT.”

Anne smiles, looking at Tyson who could hear his teammate's voice just loud enough that it made him upset. Tyson’s words from the night before rang through Anne’s mind as she finally answered him back, “Hey, no, it’s fine. What’s up?” Anne goes back into her room to finish getting ready, putting Cale on speaker as she does.

“I just wanted to check on you. And Tyson, I mean, that you were ok with him last night.”

Anne laughs at his nerves, the same ones that came through when they were first talking last night that she was thankful had faded as time went on. “Yeah, we’re fine. We’re getting ready to head out, though.”

“Any idea what time you would be done? I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner tonight?”

She could hear his voice shaking, wishing that she could say yes. “I can’t tonight, but maybe another time?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, both of them saying goodbye as Anne grabs what she needs to head out.

“You ready?” she asks Tyson. He looked good, a simple black button-down he had paired with jeans. Why did he have to look good? Tyson nods, grabbing the wine while Anne grabbed her keys.

The two of them drive in silence, her phone plugged into her car with Cale and JT’s contacts popping up on the screen on her center console as they were texting her. “I’m glad you got along with some of the guys last night,” Tyson tells her, finally breaking the silence between them.

“Yeah, me too. Especially since someone seemed to enjoy the bar more than anything else,” she teases.

“Hey, the bartender was attractive, and giving free drinks, what was I supposed to do?”

Anne laughs, knowing that wasn’t the real reason he was there the entire night. She didn’t know what that reason was, but it wasn’t because of the looks of the person giving Tyson drinks. “What do you remember from last night?”

Tyson hesitates, really not sure what to answer. “I remember the drinks and you were dancing with Cale at some point.”

“You remember none of the Uber drive back?”

He almost did. He knew he had fallen on Anne’s shoulder, but he didn’t remember getting into the car with her. He wasn’t even sure that Anne was the one that got him in the car. “Not really, no.”

“Ok,” Anne says, partially thankful for that. She wasn’t sure she would want to relive the part of the night, nor did she think Tyson would either.

She pulls up to her uncle’s house, already seeing Lucy’s car and her cousin Spencer's sitting in the driveway. “Ready to enter the belly of the beast?” she asks him, patting his thigh as a sign of encouragement.

Tyson looks out to the house, seeing someone standing in the doorway waiting for them to get out of the car. “We’ve gotta start acting like a couple, now, don’t we?” he says, leaning closer to her across the center console.

Anne rolls her eyes, knowing that he wanted a kiss or something, anything to show Aunt Laura that Tyson was actually her boyfriend. She does kiss him, sweet and slow. Tyson was sure if they weren’t being watched, he would have gone for more, but knowing he couldn’t was killing him. He had to make the most of the time he had with Anne’s family.

When Anne pulled away, she reached up to Tysons face, grazing her thumb along his beard as his hand connected with hers. She didn’t know why, but she kissed him again, their foreheads pressed together as they sat there in her car. It was different kissing him compared to Cale. A good different, and like last night, she couldn't put her finger on why. She almost forgot where they were, startled by Aunt Laura knocking on her window.

Anne’s face had to be bright red, embarrassed that her aunt saw whatever moment, real or fake or whatever that was, while sitting in the driveway of her house. She greets her aunt as she gets out of the car, handing her the two bottles of wine.

“You must be Tyson!” she says, more excited than Anne thought she would be. “Teresa’s told us so much about you, come in, come in,” she gestures. Anne was sure that she would have dragged him in by the collar of his shirt if she didn’t have the wine in her hands already.

Tyson looks at Anne, confused. “I have no idea what my mom could have said to her,” Anne says. Tyson shrugs, grabbing Anne’s hand as she leads him into the house.

Lucy comes running up as soon as Anne steps through the door, a baby that couldn’t be more than a year old in her arms. “Hey there, Hazel,” Anne coos, taking her goddaughter from her sister. Hazel reaches out, grabbing Anne’s hair as Anne winces at the slight pain from the baby’s pull. “This is Tyson.”

“Hi, pretty girl,” Tyson says, Hazel reaching out, squirming to get away from Anne and into Tyson’s arms. “Is it ok if I hold her?” he asks Lucy, waiting for her to nod before Anne passes her off to him.

Lucy pulls her sister aside, a silly grin on her face. “He’s perfect,” she gushes, “Look at him!” Tyson was bouncing Hazel up and down, Hazel shrieking with glee with him.

“He’s not perfect,” Anne says, “but he might be close.” The sisters laugh, Lucy hugging Anne from behind while they continue to watch Anne’s ‘boyfriend’ interact with Lucy’s youngest daughter. Anne wasn’t even sure if she was really pretending as the rest of her family came into her uncle’s house.

Teresa was practically attached to Tyson the entire time, as were Skylar and Harper once Tyson started playing with them. Literally, Tyson was walking around Uncle Vince’s house with Skylar and Harper clinging to each of his legs. Tyson was the center of attention, Anne wishing that it wasn’t because everyone was just finally excited that Anne found a man.

“What do you think of him?” Anne asks Sebby, the two of them watching Tyson and Matthew talking as if there was no one else was in the room. She had heard ‘touchdown’ and ‘linebacker’ come up in conversation, meaning Matthew was going on a rant about the Broncos, something that he did way too often.

Sebby looks him up and down, pursing his lips while he thought about it. “I’m not sure I trust him.”

“Oh, come on,” Anne whines.

“He’s an athlete. And a professional one, at that,” Sebby throws his hands up in defense. Growing up, Sebby was the only one who didn’t really like sports, feeling they were a waste of time when he could be doing something like reading or studying. Sports were only relevant when his siblings were involved, otherwise, he hated them.

“Give him a chance. Please?” Anne begs, not even sure if it were necessary. “He’s not Andy.”

Sebby narrows his eyes at his sister, jumping slightly as Tyson and Matthew start laughing. “Why didn’t you mention him before Christmas?”

“If you remember, I didn’t mention him at Christmas, you did,” Anne scolds him, trying to figure out what story to tell her brother. “And, it was still new. I didn’t want to say anything if it wasn’t going to be something.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe. I think so,” Anne lies. At least, she thought she was lying.

Tyson comes over to Anne while she was talking with Sebby about his upcoming semester, his last one before he graduated from college and hopefully entered law school. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her cheek before resting his chin on her shoulder. “You think I could steal her for a second?” he asks.

Sebby narrows his eyes, Tyson a little thrown off by her brother’s reaction. “Sure.”

Tyson brings Anne into another room, praying that no one would walk in on them. “We didn’t talk about anything we could say to your family about how we met,” he brings up.

“I was planning on deferring that to you since I normally can’t get a word in otherwise,” she admits, even though she hadn’t thought about it before.

“That’s not fair,” Tyson says, looking over Anne’s shoulder to see someone in her family looking at the two of them. “Your family is watching.”

Anne follows Tyson’s gaze, turning and waving at Landon and Lauren. She reaches up and puts her hand on Tyson’s cheek, Tyson taking it with his own and kissing the palm of her hand. “When you see how I get pushed aside at dinner, you’ll understand why it’s fair.”

The two of them continue talking about how they were going to go on with the rest of the day, Anne telling Tyson she was fine with everything he had done so far and really didn’t care if he kept doing it. Anne, not wanting to tell Tyson, liked what he was doing. It felt right for some reason. Was Tyson right that it should have been the two of them kissing at midnight and not her and Cale?

Tyson’s drunken confession from the night before was still ringing in her mind when everyone got called to sit down for dinner. Tyson was still, unsurprisingly, the center of attention. His hand was on Anne’s thigh for most of dinner, Lucy’s eyes never leaving as Anne rested her’s in his. The usual rounds of conversation started, asking Lucy about her medical practice, Jason about Andersen’s, his restaurant that bore his family’s name, Matthew and Steph about work at United, Sebby about how he was feeling going into this last semester of college.

Then the conversation was supposed to turn to Anne, normally swamped with questions about Anne’s lack of love life. Instead, of course, the conversation turned to Tyson.

“How did you two meet?” Teresa asks, giving a smug look to her daughter, “Anne hasn’t told us anything about you.”

Tyson hesitates, figuring Anne wouldn’t want her family knowing they met when she spilled her coffee on him. “I was out with some of my teammates after practice one day,” he starts, hoping that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was good enough. “We were at a coffee shop, and I saw Anne there grabbing something before her shift at the hospital. I saw her smile at the barista when she thanked him for taking her order and,” he looks at her, taking Anne and putting it on the table for her family to see. “Something about that smile of hers I just knew I had to talk to her. I needed her in my life and I’m happy she’s in it.”

He kisses the side of her head, whispering, “we have to remember that story now,” against her skin. When he pulls away, Anne smiles at him, signaling that she would. There was no way she could forget that honestly. Why was pretending to like him so easy?

The conversation stays on him for a little longer, Anne never being asked anything. Finally, Emily stands up with Jimmy, saying they had an announcement. “We’re engaged!” she squeals, holding up her left hand with the ring that she either just put on, or no one noticed as the family congratulated her. Jimmy had proposed at midnight, down on one knee right as whoever they were with said ‘Happy New Year!’

“Another wedding!” Teresa yells, Tony rolling his eyes next to her. He didn’t hate weddings, he hated his wife’s need to spend an extravagant amount of money on a new dress and presents for the couple every time. “And then maybe we’ll have one for Anne in the next year, too, oh Tony we’ll get to plan another wedding.”

“Mom!” Anne scolds, Tyson’s face getting bright red. “That ringing in your ears is not wedding bells.”

The rest of the dinner goes on fine, Anne and her siblings off in one of the rooms while their spouses and Tyson were nowhere to be found.

“I think Tyson’s scared of me,” Lucy says, examining her nails.

“He might just be intimidated by you, Signoria Perfezione,” Anne teases her with the nickname Lucy got when she was little, her need for order prevalent from a young age.

“Yeah, he said that Anne told him how smart you were and he didn’t want to feel stupid around you,” Matthew points out.

“Well, shouldn’t he be intimidated by Anne?” Sebby asks.

“I know you’re trying to compliment me, but your tone says otherwise,” Anne says. “Why don’t you like him?”

The three of them look at their youngest siblings. “There’s something off,” he starts, Anne feeling her heart start to race. “He’s like borderline pretending to be with you.”

“Come on, man, you’re paranoid,” Matthew scoffs, Lucy agreeing.

“I mean,” Sebby explains, “He looks at Anne like he wants to be with her, not like he actually is with her.”

“You’re just over analyzing. We’re together. Probably more together than you and Collins are,” Anne fires back, part of her hating that she was lying to her siblings, the other part of her wondering how much of it was a lie.

Sebby shrugs, “Well yeah, because we broke up.” Anne’s jaw drops, Matthew raises his eyebrows in shock, Lucy the only one to scream and actually make a verbal acknowledgment of what he just said. “Yeah, the other night. She finally blew up over the whole, ‘I don’t want to move to Boston or California,’ thing and said if I wasn’t willing to move to be with her then I wasn’t good enough for her.”

“Oh, I don’t like that,” Anne says.

"Why didn't you tell us," Lucy asks.

"I see how they act about Anne never being with someone," he says, Anne glaring at him. "I'll just find someone in law school and not say anything unless they ask. Plus, I don’t want to be that far away from you guys. Why would I stay with someone who wants me to do that?” he admits.

“Aw, you do like us!” Lucy teases him, her and Matthew tackling him in a hug while Sebby yells for them to get off, yelling louder when Anne joins in.

“Hey, um,” Tyson interrupts, “Sorry, you’re having a moment.”

“No, no, what’s up?” Anne breaks off, going over to him.

“Your aunt said dessert is out,” he tells them, or, rather, tells Anne with her siblings in earshot.

“See, you’re delusional,” Lucy tells Sebby as they walk past Anne and Tyson into the next room.

Tyson looks at her confused, waiting for an explanation. “I think Sebby’s catching on to us pretending,” she shrugs, really not that worried. She and Tyson could talk later about how long this would go on, and if anyone in the family were to find out that it was fake, Sebby would be the one to keep it quiet.

She goes into the next room, leaving Tyson there by himself. “Yeah, pretending,” he says to himself.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fic #tyson jost oc fic #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #avalanche #avalanche imagine #avalanche imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey fics #hockey imagines #nhl fics #tyson and anne

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jasperswh0re · 4 years ago

Text

Savior [Raylan Givens x reader]

aaand yes i went ahead and made a part two for this. will this be a series? no clue :) hope you all enjoy nonetheless

Summary: You see Raylan Givens again at a bar

Warnings: Physical fights, drinking, creepy guy

Word count: 1,702

part one

---

The cold countertop felt fresh against your burning cheek. You paid no mind to the clinking sound near you, along with the loud voices from the back of the bar. It had been a long day at work. You needed a drink.

"You doing alright there, hon?" The bartender asked. She was sweet. You always enjoyed her company. "Are you actually going to order something tonight?"

You lifted your heavy skull and sighed. "Long Island iced tea, please."

The drink was sat in front of you in a matter of seconds. You took your time sipping on it, watching the bustling bar crowd around you. Well, as bustling as a bar was in this state.

You found that people in Kentucky drank differently. They were quiet. Came for peace after a long shift, similar to you. Of course, there were always the assholes creeping on women or the loud young women who were celebrating their 21st. Every bar had them.

But for the most part, they were quiet. Calm. You preferred it over the bars in Oregon.

Cool glass now empty, you left the barstool behind to play some pool. You weren't terrible at the game, it was fun for a completionist like you. A part of you hoped you had someone to play with. Hell, even someone to spend time with outside of work. But moving down to Kentucky had you entirely cut off from your Oregon life. No friends.

Just a family you were not determined to see anytime soon. You were thankful they had no idea of your presence. You intended to keep it that way.

"Don't I know you?" Someone said behind you. You didn't recognize it immediately, assuming they were talking to someone else, but you rolled your eyes at the male that was attempting to hit on you.

"Probably not..." You said in an annoyed tone. You leaned on the cue and turned to see a very familiar man wearing an even more familiar cowboy hat.

"Oh that's a shame," Raylan said sarcastically, but a smile sat on his face. "I was trying to find the owner of this-" He held up your silver bracelet. The one stolen from you weeks ago.

"Marshall!" Your eyes widened. "What in the world... You were trying to find me?"

"Not inherently," Raylan placed the bracelet in your palm and leaned against the pool table. "I did get it back from that asshole after the whole... ordeal."

Raylan paused. A part of him wanted to admit that yes, he was trying to find you. Something about you had his mind running a mile a minute. Tim took notice of his distractedness during work, so he figured, why not find you? It took a while but he stumbled upon you on accident. The one time he wasn’t actively searching for you.

"I figured you wanted it back... for uh... sentimental value."

"That's too kind," You smiled down at the jewelry. "Thank you, Raylan."

You guys stared at each other happily. Somehow, the distance between you had nearly vanished. A sense of wanting washed over you both. You wanted more. He wanted more. Though, you guys weren’t sure what you wanted more of.

And more you each received.

The coming weeks were full of Raylan running into you (or meeting you, on purpose) at the same bar. Sometimes he would arrive all scuffed up from a day at work and others you could see regret in his eyes.

Raylan didn't bring up his days at the Marshall Service very often. You were the first person he knew outside of law enforcement and Harlan. You weren't a criminal, either. So he figured he would bring it up as little as possible. It made everything easier.

He found you mildly interesting to say at the least. You were a small-town person, he was too but his definition certainly didn't match yours, and you grew up a simple life. You didn't talk much of your family but rather ambitions, goals, and everything in between.

You're a calm person, he realized. Way more collected than any person he's met. You aren't wild. You go with the flow. You don't step out of line. You were no goody-two-shoes and definitely not a criminal, he could spot someone shady about a mile away.

You were just... laidback. Even when he showed up with a swelling face and a bloody nose, you wouldn't scold him or make a fuss. If he didn't want to talk about it, you would know.

Instead, you’d take care of him. He never had a say in, either. It didn't matter if you had to take him to the men's restroom to wipe away the blood and sweat. You were there for him that night, no questions asked.

Raylan found peace in this. Any night that he saw you, calm flooded his body. It was like you were an escape from his day-to-day life. It was like you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Slowly but surely, this was how he began to fall for you. More time passed and he was in deep. Your meetups at the bar became a consistent thing. Every Friday night. And every Friday he got to know you a little more.

"So you haven't told me this yet," Raylan set his whiskey on the counter. "Why did you move to Kentucky... of all places? You're from Oregon. I think it's neat... so why here?"

Your calm exterior faltered for a moment. Raylan was quick to pick up on it.

"Just..." You looked to the side, avoiding his eyes. A hard mask replaced your previous expression. "No reason in particular."

"That's a little hard to believe..." Raylan's eyebrows furrowed.

“Trust me,” You flashed an unconvincing smile. “I’ve read up on you cowboy. I saw an article about your little-” You made a motion of a gun shooting with your fingers- “Down in Florida. Is that why I’ve never seen you ‘round here before?”

Raylan’s concerned face didn’t drop, but he slowly answered you, “Yeah. That’s why I’m down here. Why won’t you answer my question?”

You slammed your drink on the counter and snapped, “I never ask you questions, Raylan.”

He lifted his brows and held up his hands defensively. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out, a taller man blocked his vision of you.

“Is he bothering you, cutie?” The man said. He was drunk as hell. “Let me take you out of here. No problem, no stress.”

Raylan glared at the figure in front of him. More than anything, he wanted to yank on the dusty flannel and shove him into the row of drinks behind the counter. He restrained himself.

“No thanks, we’re okay,” You pursed your lips into a thin line.

“Come on...” He drawled and reached out a hand to touch your shoulder, but a hand yanked it away.

“Don’t touch,” Raylan warned.

“Oh? What... are you their boyfriend?”

“Raylan,” You glared at him. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Yeah, Raylan,” The man teased.

“Personal space is of the essence,” Raylan trained his eyes on the man. “Touch them again...” He breathed through his teeth. “You don’t want to find out.”

“Did you just threaten me?” The man leaned towards Raylan, their faces inches apart. Raylan didn’t answer him. “That’s what I thought...” The man turned around again, grazing his fingers across your bare knee.

Raylan took that as an invitation to swing a fist into his head. He warned him. You leaned backward in surprise when the man stumbled, hitting his head on the counter. You could only watch, sipping on your whiskey, as the man tackled Raylan to the ground. You warned him.

The bartender forced the two men outside to fight and you didn’t follow right away. You finished your drink, eyeing the bartender who was staring back at you as if to say, “Aren’t you going to follow him?”

Realizing that it wouldn’t go well, you dropped your head in defeat. Damn it Raylan, you thought. You gulped the rest of the alcohol and slowly walked out of the bar. You took your time, not exactly eager to see the rest of this fight.

The cool breeze hit your skin. You loved the Kentucky breeze. Tobacco scent filled your lungs as you stared up at the golden sky. The only thing interrupting this peaceful moment was the sound of grunting and punches being thrown.

You looked down to see Raylan getting his ass kicked. He shielded his face from the punches, his hat was a few feet away from his head. Your eyes flickered between him and the hat for a few seconds. Eventually, you walked past the fighting boys and grabbed the hat from the brim. How it managed to stay on while he was tackled... You hadn’t a clue. Every time you saw him this was glued to his scalp.

Your fingers traced the tan object. You liked how it fit him. Somehow, he pulled it off well. But Raylan could pull anything off. Even getting the starlights beat out of him. You drew a sigh and placed the hat on a nearby bench, then approached the large man on top of your friend.

“Hey!” You yelled, kicking the side of the man. He groaned, barely pausing. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

The man didn’t answer. You glared daggers, which seemed to have done enough. “Go on home... Go on!”

He let out a huff of frustration and left. You stared down at Raylan’s beaten body.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I was drinking,” he groaned, pressing his palm to his temple.

You grabbed his hat and sat next to him on the pavement. Some blood from his forehead spilled onto his hair, so you squeezed a strand between your thumb and your index finger, ridding it of the hot blood. It was a gentle gesture. All Raylan could do was stare at you.

“So dumb...” You muttered. “Do you ever think with that head of yours?”

He didn’t answer.

“Always trying to save me...” You stared at him disappointedly.

“Anything... for you,” The words slipped out. He froze, wondering if his words would scare you away, but you laughed.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, Marshall.”

#timothy olyphant #justified #raylan givens #raylan givens x reader #timothy olyphant x reader #boyd crowder #ava crowder #justified x reader

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blxxdyvalentine19xx · 4 years ago

Text

Did I just tell him i’m in love with him?

Pairing: Colson Baker x Travis Barker

Word count: 1389

Smut or fluff: light smut, kissing, swearing.

Colson woke up to his phone reading four missed calls and at least ten text messages from Travis. His eyes widened when he scrolled up, reading the text he supposedly sent last night, drunk actions were sober truths and he’d professed that he was falling for Travis not even 12 hours ago. “OH MY GOD!” Colson made a clear inhuman noise and fell back onto the bed.

“You just read it yourself then?” Travis had suspected something had been tugging at Colson lately but this had been the last thing the drummer had expected it to be.

“OOH, could it get any worse” He half whined when he heard Travis’s voice at the door. “Fuck, Why’d I have to go and do that?” Looking up from between his fingers; Colson looked at Travis and sighed. “Yeah... I just read it, all of it.” He didn’t know what to say as it was the truth. Colson couldn’t play this one off.

Looking at the rapper; Travis took to the edge of Colson’s bed. “It could always be worse, Kells.” He pried the blonde’s hand off the man’s face and placed his fingers in them. “But we do need to talk, because that’s nothing that we can pretend didn’t happen.” Travis was more worried about Colson not having answered than he was the actual confession.

Colson had to admit Travis was right about things always having a possibility of things being worse. He knew the other’s history. “Could be, doesn’t really help though.” He looked at Travis’s hand in his and focused on the ink that covered them. “I was drunk and unfortunately had my phone on me.” Colson felt an odd calm come over him despite the panic he felt below it.

“No, it never does.” He knew things could be a hell of a lot worse than knowing Colson had fallen for him. “You act like it’s the end of the world but it’s not.” Travis tapped the younger man’s chin upwards and looked at him. “So you tell me you like me and then ignore me” He made a face as to say ‘What the fuck?’

“Fell asleep.” It was the truth after all and Colson swallowed when Travis made him look up. “But yeah, I guess it’s not a secret anymore.” He bit his lip; pouting as he blinked. “SO! What now?” Colson asked, unsure if he really wanted the answer.

“Of Course you did.” Travis shook his head as Colson pouted. “It never really was” He started and moved a hand to the man’s cheek. “You’d been really off lately and I started to piece it together.” Travis spoke. Drawing a thumb across Colson’s lips. “What now?” He didn’t have a shit clue, he was leaving the ball in Colson’s court. “I’m not mad, Colson.”

Against his better judgement; Colson’s eyes dropped to Travis’s thumb and an idea sprung to mind. “Fuck! Didn’t hide that too well then.” He went for it and took Travis’s finger into his mouth; swirling his tongue around it, he looked back up at Travis. “I don’t hide too much too well.” He said when he came back up.

Travis didn’t know what to make of what just happened; he looked at his finger and then to Colson and raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck was that?” Travis made a roundabout expression before settling again. “God you’re fuckin’ weird, man” He shifted forward and pulled Colson into a gentle kiss, his hand on the blonde’s chin.

Pulling away from the kiss momentarily; Colson had to suppress the urge to freak out as he’s basically worshiped the man since he (Colson) was a kid. “Calling me weird? You’re the one who just kissed me.” He pulled Travis down with him as his back hit the bed. “You don’t know weird.”

Shaking his head; Travis rolled his eyes as it was obvious Colson was holding something back. “ Yes you idiot, I kissed you.” He shifted ever so slightly; letting himself fall back into a kiss as Colson was below him, a hand carding through the rapper’s hair as the younger man laughed into it. “I’m crazy for saying it, but you really are beautiful, Colson.” Travis moved the kiss to Colson’s neck, running his hands along the man’s tattooed chest.

His mind went from panicked to giddy and to needy all in a matter of seconds when he felt Travis’s lips on his neck, kissing and sucking at it. “N-o I’m n-ot.” Colson’s breath shook as Travis’s hand on his chest was a different but welcomed feeling. A hand immediately going to his hair meeting Travis’s. “N- oh fuck.” He whined, gripping at the sheets of his messy and unmade bed.

◯◯◯ later in the day

Colson was about to light a blunt when he second guessed himself with Travis around and chose to put both the lighter and the blunt back down. “That actually can wait” He might be a bit into himself but was actually doing better since he’d been working on the album with Travis.

Travis looked up when he heard Colson speak and raised an eyebrow. “Shit, that’s got to be what? A first for you?” He said as the rapper came back over. Setting his phone aside, Travis smiled as the blonde seemed lighter on his feet and less dependent on substance.

“Mm, Only a handful of times have I done that.” Colson said; letting himself fall back onto the couch and buried his head in Travi’s neck. “I shouldn’t be smoking as much as I do anyway.” He shrugged and grinned when Travis’s arms wrapped around his (Colson’s) torso. “I’ll save the destruction for another day.”

Kissing Colson’s cheek; Travis relaxed as the two of them took in each other’s presence and relaxed. “No, you shouldn’t be, you’ve got heart problems as it is.” It wasn’t a secret that Kells had a heart condition. “A ticking time bomb is what you are.” He held Colson to him and tried to push the thought out of his mind.

“Worried about me are you?” Colson asked while they talked; Mod was often the same way towards him as Travis was being now. “I’ve survived this far and been through some shit.” He’d lived with the heart condition his whole life so it was just another part of life to him, aside from that one time in Florida where he thought he was going to die.

“I always worry about you” Travis looked at Colson and sighed. “I know you have been and that’s why you should be taking this shit seriously” He started; taking Colson’s hand in his as he said it. “If they drugs and alcohol don’t take you, your heart will or it’ll be a combination of the two.” Travis knew Mod was just as watchful of Kells so it gave him some sense of relief when Travis couldn’t be around for one reason or another. “You don’t look after yourself enough so we all have to.”

◯◯◯ that evening

Having fallen asleep on the couch; Colson was curled up under a blanket with his phone on the floor. He was startled awake when he felt a hand shake his shoulder. Nearly falling off the couch he mumbled something when an arm pulled him back up. “Jesus, what the fuck?” Colson had thought it was slim and was about to be pissed off for being woken up.

“Not quite, but you might as well get up.” Travis spoke as Colson tried to swat his hand away. “Chill out, Not who you thought it was.” He’d figured Colson thought that it was one of the guys instead of Travis himself. “Supper’s cooked and you should eat, babe.” Travis ran a finger along Colson’s cheek and smiled when the rapper took a breath and got up.

“You didn’t have to do that, it isn’t worth the argument with Baze” Colson stole a kiss before he walked into the kitchen followed by Travis. “Thank you for doing it though.” He shot one of the guys a glare as they put the pieces together about the hickeys and him having kissed Travis.

Snapping his fingers at the guys; Travis sushed them, cutting off their chance to tease Colson about it. “Leave that playground shit where it belongs, you’re all adults here.”

#machine gun kelly #mgk fic #mgk #colson baker #travis barker

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leafs-lover · 4 years ago

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Because Two People Got Drunk: 18.5

Chapter 18.5

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter – in case you want to refresh yourself, although I don’t think it’s all that necessary.

A/N: Italics are flashbacks. Read to the end, its worth it

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, smut, cheating

Word Count: 4100

You sit at the dimly lit bar in your hotel. You sit at the corner of the bar. It’s pretty busy with some groups scattered around the bar but you are relatively alone in your corner. You look to the full glass of whiskey at the seat beside you, ice long melted condensation leaving a ring on the wood counter. This was the drink you ordered for Fred thinking he would have arrived long ago. You grab the drink and throw it back, not nursing it like you did the first patience wearing thin.

You wish you didn’t spend the extra time on your makeup or stressing over what to wear given the current situation. There is a mess of clothes in a pile on your floor, before you finally decided on your black ribbed turtle neck with puffed sleeves. Dangling around your neck on top of your shirt is the sapphire necklace Fred got you your first Christmas as a mom. You paired it with your black and white high-waisted wool skirt and knee high leather boots. Normally you would be concerned about the cool Toronto air, but you and Fred didn’t plan on leaving the hotel limiting your time outside.

The bartender sees the empty cups and you order two more. You pull your phone out to check the time, Fred’s 40 minutes late and the last text you sent is sitting on read has been for the last twenty minutes. Due to your late flight he went out to dinner with Mitch and Auston without you, but he said he’d meet you at the hotel bar once he was back.

A few nights ago Fred stopped by to drop Oliver off at your apartment. While you had been spending a lot of the time Fred isn’t on the road together, those couple days you opted to leave Fred and Oliver to their time alone.

Once finally getting Oliver to sleep Fred pulled you onto his lap while you talked about what they did the last few days. Fred’s hand is gently resting on your waist “I actually wanted to ask you something but I don’t know how it fits in with us taking things slow” His thumb has slid under the hem of your sweater and is pressing circles softly onto your bare skin

Your shoulders stiffen as you put your hands on his chest bracing yourself with a perplexed look “okay…”

“Geez I’m not asking you to marry me, calm down” he jokes causing you to smile. “I love when you smile” he grins pulling you back for another kiss. Your body melts into the touch, relaxing while his tongue swirls around your mouth.

His hand on your neck holds you steady while his other slides around to the back of your thigh giving it a light squeeze. You squirm and giggle but Fred doesn’t release you from the searing kiss. His hand gently caresses your ass while you rock your hips against him feeling wetness pool in your core.

“I get lost in your kiss so easily” he murmurs his lips centimetres from yours.

“Then why stop” you whisper closing the gap between your mouths. Your hands run up his chest into his hair tangling around the roots tiliting his head back while you deepen the kiss. You roll your clothed core over him searching for some friction, causing Fred to groan loudly.

Your mouth slides to his jaw and onto his neck, peppering him with soft warm kisses when he pushes you away slightly. “Because I have to ask you something”

A disappointed grunt leaves your throat and Fred just laughs. You lean back sitting on the heels of your feet creating some reluctant distance between you. “What?” you ask eyes narrowed slightly but a smirk on your lips as you can’t be serious.

“So I leave tomorrow for the road trip” he starts and you nod knowing they play Boston tomorrow, Saturday in Toronto and finally ending the trip on Monday in Montreal. “So a couple of the girls are flying to Toronto Friday and then going to Montreal for some shopping. I wanted to know if you wanted a seat on that plane.”

“I didn’t know they went on road trips with you guys” you respond.

“They don’t go on a lot of them. They sometimes join us on a trip through LA or Florida to spend time on the beaches. Some come to Alberta to do some skiing but it’s not all the common. But there are a couple girls who want to see their or their husband’s family who live in the area and the rest just want to go shopping in Montreal.”

“I see” you respond.

“Given you are from there I thought you might want to go on Friday see your friends and family.” You scowl at that, you haven’t talked to your grandparents since the last time you saw them and don’t see that changing any time soon. “Or just your friends” he laughs.

“I can get two tickets to the game, and if you wanted to go to Montreal you could, or you could fly back on Sunday or even stay a few days longer in Toronto. Up to you” he shrugs.

“What about Ollie?” you ask.

“You could bring him if you wanted, but I asked Christie and she is available to watch him for the weekend. I thought you could use a break

“Okay” you respond. It’s been a bit since you have seen your friends.

“And Oliver?” he asks.

“Am I a bad mom for wanting to leave him?” you ask and Fred just laughs shaking his head. “My friends will be upset not seeing him but I really like the idea of an adult only weekend.”

“No you’re not a bad mom” he brings you in for a soft kiss. “I was kind of hoping you’d leave him, I wanted to book you a spa day with your friends and toddlers can ruin the relaxing vibe in spas” he chuckles.

“Mkay. I won’t complain about a spa day” you smile pulling his face closer, feeling his mustache tickle you while you press a kiss to his lips. “I can come back Sunday night or early Monday morning” he say lips hovering an inch from his.

“I will get you on a flight mid-day Monday so you can sleep in” he says.

“You’re amazing you know that” you whisper placing a soft kiss on his lips. You begin to rock your hips, your kiss becoming hungry.

“You might change your mind” he laughs standing up. Yours arms instinctively wrap around his neck expecting him to carry you down the hall but instead he carefully places you on the floor. He leans down for a soft kiss and when he pulls away you feel it linger on your lips “I gotta be up early so I have to go.”

“Fred” you huff in disapproval eyes going wide “are you serious?” You’re so wet you are almost surprised when you don’t see a stain on his pants

“Yup sorry” he chuckles releasing his hands from you and walking to the door. “He was a little terror because of his short nap and the teething so I have to clean my place and pack for the trip”. You follow him leaning against the wall watching while he bends down to put on his sneakers.

“Have a good night” he smirks placing a soft kiss on your cheek. He chuckles seeing your eyes pleading for more, pupils dark and hungry. Instead of giving you want you want he turns around and opens the door. Your body jumps hearing the heavy door slam shut leaving you alone. A chill runs coarse through your body, but not from the temperature.

You are drawn from your trance when with the clatter from the glasses being set on the bar. The bartender shoots you a soft smile recognizing you have been stood up before turning around. The thing is this is out of character for Fred, the past month or so he has tried to encourage you to join him and Oliver, even taken you on a few dates. You even woke up to him making you breakfast one morning saying “he had to make sure the key you gave him worked.”

You sigh putting your phone back in your purse when you feel a body slide into the empty barstool beside you.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing alone at a bar?” the man asks reaching out for the whiskey in front of him. Fred’s whiskey.

You scoff unsure if it’s because of the line or the drink “that line ever work before?”

“I don’t know, you tell me” he says taking a drink.

You gaze at him from the corner of your eye quickly before bringing your gaze back to the bar in front of you. You lean back in your seat “you should know I’m waiting for someone.”

“I know I’ve been watching you for the last 20 minutes. You waiting for a date?” he asks.

“It was supposed to be but he is almost 45 minutes late” you sigh taking a small sip.

“Wow. When he decided to blow you off did he know you looked this good?”

“He should have” you retort.

The man beside you laughs slightly and you allow yourself to peak from the corner of your eye. He has on dark jeans and a simple grey long sleeve; you don’t see a coat so he likely is staying in the hotel. Your eyes finally meet his and he smirks having caught you checking him out, your cheeks heat up and you turn your attention away. You mindlessly play with the straw in your cup, pushing the ice around. Creating a distraction from the man beside you.

“No need to be embarrassed” he says shifting closer placing a hand on your thigh. Your eyes immediately drop down watching while his pinky toys with the hem of your skirt, playfully lifting it ever so slightly.

“You should be careful; my boyfriend won’t like you touching me” you respond talking a large swig of your drink pushing his hand off your leg.

He clears his throat shifting in his seat. “Not much of a boyfriend to keep you waiting” he says reaching forward for his drink. He finishes the remainder in one final gulp; he sets the glass back down and returns his hand back on your thigh. His hand is cold and wet from the glass and it sends a chill down your spine while also electrifying your core at the same time.

“You from around here?”

“I live in Pittsburgh” you respond taking a small sip scanning around the bar in search of Fred.

“What brought you to Toronto in the middle of winter?”

“Here for the hockey game” you sigh.

His thumb slides up your thigh a bit “oh that’s right you’re Fred’s girl.” Your head immediately snaps up and looks to the man beside you, eyes going wide.

You hastily push his hand off your leg “you should go” you whisper knowing this is wrong. Your whole body shakes an uncomfortable chill coursing through you. It was wrong before allowing a stranger to touch you like that, but knowing he knows Fred makes it even worse. You turn your head back scanning around the bar, still no sign of Fred or anyone you recognize for that matter.

He shifts forward in his seat, his mouth hovering inches from your ear. “Its okay sweetheart I won’t tell.”

You take a few deep breathes and feel his lips gently touch your neck drawing goosebumps to the surface. “So are you staying here tonight?” he asks indicating the hotel. You nod silently shifting from his touch.

You sit in silence for what feels like minutes though it likely wasn’t; your heart beating through your chest. “Well I think I’m going to head out” he says breaking the silence. “You want to come beautiful or you going to sit alone a little longer?”

His warm breath is still on your neck, you look at him from the corner of your eye. He gives your thigh a squeeze and you feel yourself dripping onto your panties. It hasn’t taken much since Fred left your apartment a few days ago to get you wound up.

You bring your glass to your mouth throwing the remainder down your throat wincing at the burn. You scan around the bar seeing the groups scattered around, some of the city lights filtering in through the windows.

The bartender comes over with the bill setting is down. He throws a couple twenties down waiting for your response. You place your glass down; hand trembling under this man’s touch. You turn to face him scanning over his face, pupil’s dark blown with fire.

You pull your lower lip between your teeth, eyes locked on his. You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s wrong, even if Fred never finds out it will eat at you. You won’t be able to look him in the eyes if you go through with this and he will sense something is wrong. Whether he finds out on his own or you tell him everything will be ruined.

You know all this but maybe it’s the excitement, or maybe the 3 whiskey’s you’ve downed in the past hour but you decide against your judgement. “Let’s go” you say jumping up and practically running towards the elevator. As soon as the door closes you press him against the wall hand gripping his arms while locking him in a searing kiss. His mouth vibrates against you and you pray nobody gets on the elevator, knowing your lipstick smeared on his face leaves little to the imagination.

“Fred can never know” you say to the man in front of you.

“I won’t say a word” the man groans spinning you, pressing your back to the wall his hands gripped tightly on your hips.

“Don’t you want to know my name baby?” he groans as your hand slides down to his shaft palming over his denim.

“What’s the point you’ll forget it by the time my perfume leaves the pillow” you respond kissing him passionately.

“Fuck your trouble” he growls the elevator dinging open. He grips your hand pulling you down the hallway to his door; he fumbles briefly with his room key before the green light finally appears. As soon as the door closes his body is on yours slamming you against it. He licks a stripe from your neck to your ear and sucks on your ear lobe spreading your legs apart with his knee.

His hands dig into your hips likely leaving bruises later while he bites your neck. He rubs circles with his thumbs slowly pulling your shirt up to expose some skin. His calloused thumbs press into your exposed skin pinning you under his touch.

You struggle to find your breath his mouth trailing along your jawline. He slowly pushes your shirt up, his fingers leaving a trail of heat on your stomach. He pulls your shirt over your head throwing it aside. You see his eyes quickly gaze over your body with a devilish smirk before his mouth attaches to your chest.

His mouth sucks on your breast, his hand sliding behind you to unclasp your bra. He sucks on the top of your breast, his hand massaging your other while deep groans leave your lips. His mouth trails around your chest and neck sucking harder in each spot.

“Fuck” you groan “no marks.” You run your hands up his body tangling into the roots of his hair. His hands slide up your thigh lifting your skirt before finding your clothed core

“Your boyfriend should see them” he growls “so he knows someone treated you right.”

He bends his knee flexing his thigh into your core, his hand slowly trailing up your thigh. Your skin heats up at the anticipation while you roll your hips against him your core dripping onto his jeans. His fingers dip under your wool skirt finding your lace panties.

“Fuck your soaked” he groans sliding a finger over your slit, any regrets you had long faded from his touch. His thumb presses into your clit your head falling back against the door. His thumb begins rubbing circles in your heat spreading your wetness around. He hooks his finger in your underwear pulling it down your thighs. He spins you pushing you toward the bed throwing you onto it.

He crawls over you pressing his knee into your core; you rock your hips against him feeling the denim on your bare folds. He kisses your neck and chest, leaving a trail until he reaches your waist. He sucks a spot on your hip leaving a dark mark, his hands pushing your skirt higher until it is bunched up above your waist.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders dipping his head in, you feel him blow warm air on your core. Your head falls back onto the pillow back arching off the bed slightly. He wastes no time licking a stripe up your folds moaning when he tastes your juices.

His tongue dances around your folds when you feel two fingers dip in opening you up. His fingers curl inside you. You gasp when his mouth finds your clit and begins to suck. Your hands find his locks pulling his head closer into your core.

His fingers pick up the pace at your motions; him moaning between your legs. His calloused fingers draw inside your walls, your hips lifting closer to his face. He pumps your fingers pulling your wetness as he works you, a string of panted curse words leaving your mouth.

He finds your g-spot smirking when your legs tighten around his head. He keeps pumping his fingers hitting it with every thrust, while your hells dig into his back. His mouth sucks harder on your clit and the familiar burn builds in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m gonna cum” you pant, body squirming at the contact. The man beneath you grunts at your announcement. Your hips buck into his face your coil snapping as your orgasm rips through you. He pumps his fingers a few times working you through your high; your eyes snapping shut your breathing erratic.

You breathing steadies while his fingers slip out of you, you feel him pressing gentle kisses on your stomach. When you finally open your eyes you notice he has stripped. You try to take in his body but he rolls you onto your side to unzip your skirt. He pulls your body up pulling the bunched up fabric down your legs.

Once you are lying on your back he crawls over you engaging you in a deep sloppy kiss. You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, your body buzzing with fire. You feel his hard member pressing at your entrance coating himself in your juices.

“Please” you whine his tip poking at your folds.

“I’ve wanted to hear you beg for my cock since I first saw you, alone at the bar” he groans and without hesitating he slips inside you stretching you out. You cry out while he pushes fully in, his mouth sucking gently on your sweet spot. He pulls back at a painfully slow pace before snapping his hips back inside you.

He gives you a few slow thrusts causing you to whine under his body. His eyes are dark with hunger as he shoots you a devilish grin. You pull him down closing the gaps between your faces locking him in a sloppy kiss while he slowly rocks into you.

You pull away gasping for air, the taste of whiskey still on his lips. “God you feel so good” he mumbles into your neck.

“Fuck please” you cry needing more from him.

“You’re so gorgeous when you beg” he grunts snapping his hips and picking up the pace. Your hands slide down his back, digging your nails in deep to his skin. He hooks an arm under your knee pushing it into your chest increasing the angle and depth he can hit you.

“You’re boyfriend fuck you this good?” he asks and your eyes go wide. You take a deep exhale with the realization of what you’re doing, but before you can feel bad he hits your g-spot and you begin to fall apart again.

Beads of sweat are on your forehead. You can tell your hair you spent hours on is a mess and your mascara is streaking down your cheeks.

“Tell me I feel better than him. Tell me I’m better than Fred” he growls when you don’t respond.

“Ye…yes” you stumble out. “So good” your breath catches in your throat.

“Say it, say I’m better than him” he grunts bringing a hand to your throat. Your airway begins to restrict as your knee is being placed over his shoulder. You rake your nails over his back leaving some marks, your back arching off the bed.

“You’re better” you croak out between breaths. His eyes darken and the edges of his lips curl upward at your admission. Your second orgasm is quickly approaching and he senses your walls tightening around him.

“You gonna cum all over my cock?” he asks and all you can manage is a slight nod. You feel him getting sloppy above you “I’m gonna cum inside you, teach Fred a lesson.”

Before you can object your second orgasm comes and your vision goes black. Your walls tighten around him nails digging into his muscles. Pleasure rips through you and a string of curse words leaving your lips while he works you through it. You feel the man above you spill deep inside, painting your walls white. He releases your leg and collapses on you, head landing on your shoulder.

Your hand comes up running through his hair, damp with sweat. The two of you lie in silence before he finally pulls out and flops onto his back. You both stare up at the ceiling for a minute, him being the one to break the silence.

“Boyfriend eh” he chuckles turning to rest on his side, his hand gently grazes the necklace around your neck.

“Shut up Fred” you groan rolling your eyes. You go to push yourself off the bed but he pulls you back throwing a leg over you to pin you to the mattress. You don’t bother fighting him and melt into his touch; he gently brushes some of your sweaty hair from your forehead.

“You’ve never called me your boyfriend before” he says kissing your cheek “I like it.”

“Make me wait 45 minutes in a bar for you again and see if still call you that” you joke smiling up at him. His golden brown eyes look down at you while he grins bringing his lips down to yours for a soft kiss.

“Sorry I ran into the goalie coach on my way down and he wanted to show me some footage” he responds.

“For 45 minutes?” you joke.

“No twenty, when I arrived I didn’t see you because it was so busy so I got a table on the other side. Then once I had my drink I saw you and I don’t know, decided to have some fun. I’m surprised you played along” he responds.

“Really? I thought you were going to break first” you laugh. “Especially when I called you my boyfriend” you quirk your eye brows playfully at him. He bites his lower lip shaking his head at you before finally carrying you to the bathroom, you both clean up. While brushing your teeth Fred leaves and comes back in wearing his boxers and he sets a t-shirt on the counter for you

“So am I allowed to stay or do I have to go to my own room?” you ask walking out of the bathroom.

“Technically you should leave, but I’m not letting you” he smiles lifting the duvet for you to crawl under with him.

“Just leave when we’re at practice so nobody sees you” he chuckles.

“So much sneaking around, it’s like were in high school” you laugh turning off the lamp. Fred shifts closer to you, to the point where you are going to be sharing a pillow. You pull Fred’s face closer for a soft kiss “good night Fred” you whisper against him.

“Goodnight girlfriend” he says bringing his lips back to you one more time.

Next Chapter

#frederik andersen #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #Freddie Andersen #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #Fred Andersen Fic #nhl fic #nhl smut #because two people got drunk #my writing

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letfatewritethewords · 3 years ago

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I process things with art. I process with written words in the hopes that one day it can be spoken without my voice shaking. This week has been one for the books.. and I decided to share. This is long, but I want to remember what I’m learning.. how I’m processing.. if you decide to read, thank you. If not, this will still be here as a reminder of my progress every year.

I always tell people that there was no reason for my name, but it’s a lie. I’m named after Samantha on BeWitched. My grandfather loved that show and suggested it when my mother couldn’t decide. I was born in early September and that makes me a Virgo. Astrology is one of my favorite things. There’s something extraordinary about the idea that we’re connected to the universe by the positioning of the stars. Sometimes it’s so vague.. but other times, it’s right on the nose and my horoscopes will make me cry. Speaking of that, I’m an empath and a 2. When I’m unhealthy, I’m a 4 and If you know what any of that means, I’d love to talk to you more about it. Winter is my favorite season. Fall is a close second. I love the snow and how muted everything is. I like the quiet, the beauty. Sometimes, the light from the sun will shimmer off a fresh coat of snow on the ground. It is absolutely blinding, but I’d still stare, and when the snow fell at night, I’d watch it under the street light across from my house and it felt like time stood still. When I was little, I would lay in the yard full of snow, alone, in my puffy suite, until my fingers and toes would go numb from the cold, listening to the silence, but the best part of those days was going back into my grandparents house and warming up with hot coco made on the stove, wrapping myself in a soft blanket and watching old movies with my grandfather. To me, the Winter is magical. My love languages are Quality Time and Acts of Service. I’m an introvert but I love people. I like to observe, I like to really understand how the mind works and Im eager to help. I thrive in controlled chaos. I like puzzles, I love music, I like crafts, I like to fix things because grandpa always taught me that nothing is to broken to fix. Nothing. No one.

This is the light. This is the part of me that I give willingly to anyone I meet. I wear it on my sleeve. It’s only the light. Until the last 2 years.. this was all I could give of myself because I’ve always been scared of the dark.

The darkest part of me lasted 8 years, my rock bottom lasted 4.5, but as a whole it’s taken up almost 12 years of my life. Sometimes I worry that all I'm ever going to be is this thing that happened to me. That this will define me for the rest of my life and I need to remind myself that I’m a person that can live separate from an event.

I went to the police station this week, I filled out more forms. I’ve filled out so many forms over the last 2 years. For an emergency restraining order this time. For Florida this time. I knew it would eventually follow me here but typhus felt too soon. The clerk called me brave. I smile and thank them every time but I never know how to respond to that. She has no idea how weak it feels and I mean.. how could she. This is the right choice, the obvious choice, the smart choice. In a different situation, it’s one of the many steps I’d be urging someone else to take. In all the chaos, all the hurt, in all the anger and sadness.. it always circles back to “I loved him”. I did. I wanted to fix him. I wanted to see him grow and heal and if I loved him hard enough for the both of us, it would’ve evened out eventually… right?

I failed.

He was always who he was, but I was young and naive and ready to fix the whole world. When I was 18 and we were free, I would’ve told you he saved me. Now that I’m in my 30’s… and he’s in prison and I’m in limbo.. I don’t know what I’d tell you. He didn’t save me, but he didn’t destroy me either. I had every opportunity to tap out and give up.. but I grew into a person I might not have been if I never met him.

Am I angry? All of the time.

Am I scared? Yes.

I see things more clearly now though. People talk about how you never know someone’s story, and that’s because we are experts at playing pretend like we have it all figured out until we’re alone and have to face truest selves. The facade is the hardest thing to give up. Some people saw through mine and there are others, who have built their own, that never will. I share posts about what I’ve learned, how I see people, how I’ve try to treat people with grace and teach children with love and patience in hopes that a little of that sinks into whoever it reaches, but I very rarely show the journey. Partly because I know the details are gruesome and that’s not for everyone, but mostly because I’m scared.

How will you see me?

What will you think?

I’m learning that I’m not this big awful thing that happened to me. I was never anyone’s property and I’m not chained to it anymore. I was very much lied to and manipulated and hurt long enough that it flipped onto me and I carried it without missing a step. I wanted to love him so much that I would heal him. Instead, he “loved” me so much it almost killed me, and he did call it love. Enough times that he re-defined it and I didn’t use that word for a very long time in any meaningful situation. He, for better or for worse, drastically changed the trajectory of my life.

But it’s ok.

I’m wounded but I’m healing. I’m lonely, but I’m learning how to slowly welcome more people in and step out of my comfort zone. If I’m being honest, I’m relearning a lot of things, including how to exist in a world where I have room to make mistakes and fail. I can say or do the wrong thing and be gently corrected for it by my people and move on … sans violence. There are no words for amount of relief I feel because of that truth.

Is it over? No.

He was sentenced to 7 years last year and every year around mid July early August there is an opportunity to apply for an appeal based on his behavior, which will always be immaculate because he is not as tough as he thinks he is. This means that if he applies and it goes to trial, I’m also notified and have to reappear, show any new evidence, and reexplain why he needs to stay there for the safety of others and myself. Telling my story once a year on a whim to a room full of strangers, always men, so they can decide my fate, as well as the fate of this “upstanding young man with a good head on his shoulders” (actual words used during my initial rape/domestic abuse trial against him), was never what I imagined finally turning him in would look like. I really never thought that after everything, his sentence wouldn’t even be as long as our relationship. The original sentence was 5 years. After he got out on a Governor Cuomo Covid related prison loophole and broke his parole almost immediately, he was sentenced to another 2 on top of that. He has 6 left. We talk about how flawed our system is, but really seeing it is a different kind of punch. Women aren’t believed. There’s a reason so many of these crimes go unreported, and why so many women die at the hands of angry men. The hoops you have to jump through are miles high and on fire, and when you and the advocate show up armed only with your truth, your tears and a little evidence from one night at a bar when he got to drunk and forgot he was in public, it’s very easy for a judge to rule on the softer side. Because, as you all know, we’d never want to ruin a wealthy mans life unless there’s cold, hard, reason to.

Seeing his face when they read out his sentence, after years of terror, was satisfying to say the least and if I hadn’t been so numb to get through the hearing, I would’ve enjoyed it more. I will never forget going to a trusted friends house after that hearing and being completely overwhelmed with all of the emotions. Relief, guilt, sadness, anger, happiness, fear.. so many I couldn’t express.. all at once because the novocain wears off and numb isn’t forever and I fell asleep with their dog after a lot of crying. I’d be lying though if I said that 18 year old in me didn’t feel a loss. I grew up with incredible grandparents that did amazing things in teaching me how to love people and be a good human, but no one can protect us from everything. I also grew up with a mother who fights demons of her own and never had the capacity to love two kids. In a situation like that, someone becomes the punching bag. I became the punching bag and desperately looked for ways out, an opportunity to run.. and I ran right into him, who accepted me with open arms for the first time in my young, very inexperienced life.. and I followed him blindly and he was my whole world. Until I was 27, I didn’t have a guide. By the grace of God I landed into a community in Florida that slowly helped me realize my worth.

So.. what now.

How do we fix what our parents and past broke?

How do you reparent yourself?

The mental health journey is proving to be my biggest struggle yet. There’s no more outside factors, it’s just me and the lies that have fed me for years and altered how I think and feel and understand the world. I can feel myself frustrating people I’ve let close to me. I feel myself getting nervous and pushing people away. Sometimes I can catch it and regroup, other times that nasty little voice is too loud and I’m exhausted. My goodness though, how cool is it to learn so much about yourself? I know I have the capacity to love that broken part of me eventually, but it’s still hard to face. Getting to learn and understand the reason behind your actions is terrifyingly amazing. I am proud of this journey. Even when I don’t always come up on top. It’s hard to see the progress while you’re in it, but laying it all out like this.. I can safely say I’m never going to be that 18 year old girl ever again. Some days this journey looks different, some days the darkness wins, because healing isn’t linear. Sometimes it’s one step forward, 2 steps back… but nothing is too broken to fix.. and I will never call that darkness home again.

#lonliness #abuse survivor #survivor #domestic violent relationships #domestic violence #processing

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itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto · 4 years ago

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Incredibly dense genius.

A/N: Hi everyone, Merry Christmas/Festivities, or have a relaxing December/January if you don’t celebrate. Just a little Matthew Gray Gubler fic for you all, so enjoy! This is set where reader is an actress on Criminal Minds.

Y/A/N- Your Agent Name, Y/A/S/N – Your agent surname

Trigger warnings: Case details, bodies being found in tanks, swearing, drinking (alcohol), smoking

“Tell you what, I’m really looking forward to the end of series wrap up party/Christmas party tomorrow night.” A.J said, as she sat down at the big table, getting ready for the next scene. “I hear that.” Thomas said, as he got into position. “Preach it sisters.” Kirsten giggled, “And Christmas is coming soon too!” “Morning guys.” You yawn walking in, as you were not needed for the last scene. You started on the show two years ago, and have been settled in since day one, making firm friends with everyone, but your best friends are Matthew and Paget. You have fancied Matthew since you started watching Criminal Minds when it started, and when you joined the cast, you had a boyfriend, and Matthew was seeing someone. Since then, you are now single, but you assume Matthew is still seeing someone. “Morning sweetness.” Paget smiled at you, knowing you aren’t a morning person. You get into position by the surveillance board as the director calls action. “Today we are going to Florida, and crime fighters, you are going to help the police solve the mystery of bodies showing up in storage tanks. Y/A/N, could you show the pictures please, whilst I look away?” Kirsten asked “Yep, sure.” You say scrolling through the photos, as Matthew walks in, looking handsome as always. “Sorry I’m late.” Matthew says ruffling his hair, “I drove in and forgot to apply for a parking spot.” “I did e-mail you about this Reid. Don’t let it happen again.” Thomas said handing Matthew a paper file. Matthew mumbles a, “What’s an email?” to himself as he looks through the photos. “The victims look pretty fresh. Has forensics looked at them?” “Not yet. They are waiting for us to get there but I suggested to preserve the evidence, and for us to find the un-sub quicker, they should do the autopsy now and call us on the plane.” You say “Good idea Y/A/N. Wheels up in an hour.” Thomas said as the director called cut, and you did the scene again a few times from different angles. As Matthew spoke, you thought about how recently he had been very distant from everyone, not as much to you and Paget, but very quiet and not his weird and wonderful self. You did ask him if he wanted to talk to you, and he would always politely decline so you chose not to push him. “Okay guys, we’re good here so if we all make our way to the jet we will shoot that scene next.” The director said. “Morning Gube.” You smile at Matthew “Morning Y/N. You okay?” Matthew asks you softly, with a smile “Yes. Looking forward to the party tomorrow. You good?” You ask “I’m good, just tired.” Matthew says rubbing his eyes and bites his lip, debating if he should ask you out or not. “Do you want to grab a smoke break later?” “You never need to ask.” You smile sitting down at the table. “Everyone ready, and action.” The director called as the scene started. “This body definitely looks more de-composed than the others. Between 8 and 10 days... Fuck wrong days.” You say as everyone laughs, “You’re all cunts.” You say laughing too, knowing you always get numbers wrong on your lines, and the writers always like to test you by making sure your character has all the lines to do with numbers. Most outtakes come from you, and your mistakes/swears always cause everyone to have a fit of laughter. “Re-set and action.” The director said whilst laughing. “This body definitely looks more de-composed than the others. Between 3 and 5 days after death, the human body starts to bloat and foam containing blood leaks from the mouth.” “And after that?” Paget asks you. In the show you are an agent, but your characters background was in forensics at NCIS as a Medical Examiner with a PhD in forensics. “The body starts to turn from green to red due to…” You start to say “The blood de-composing and the organs in the abdomen accumulating gas.” Matthew says finishing your sentence “That’s right Dr Reid.” You say smiling “I read all 54 of your papers before you started working here Dr Y/A/S/N.” Matthew smiled. “But I know you have published a further 6 since working here and I have started reading them.” “How long did that take you?” You ask “1 hour 55 minutes.” Matthew said “Same length of time as this flight then.” You say Matthew nods, doing his signature Spencer ‘frog face’ as the fans of the show call it. “Happy Wednesday my nerds.” Rossi said “When we get there, Reid, Y/A/S/N, Rossi, go to the forensics lab. J.J, Prentiss and I will go to the police station and see what we have so far.” Thomas said “What about me?” Shemar asked Thomas rolled his eyes, “Fuck. I genuinely forgot you were here.” He said as everyone laughs. After 4 hours of filming you break for lunch, and as there’s a long line, you decide to go over to Matthew. “How about that smoke break?” You ask him with a smile “There you are, let’s roll.” Matthew smiled, as he linked his arm with yours. “They really need to get together.” Paget said “They really do.” Kirsten said, “It’ll break my heart otherwise.” “Agreed.” A.J said “Even on their days off, they spend all day together.” Joe smiled “So, Gubler, what do you have planned for Christmas?” You ask taking Matthew’s lighter once he’d lit up “I’m seeing my Mum, sister, her husband and children for Christmas. New Year’s I’ll see my Dad and my brother probably.” Matthew smiled, “What about you?” You nod, “Probably just see my parents. I need a quiet Christmas after the year I’ve had.” You say, along with Criminal Minds, you write for a few TV shows and do a lot of voice over work. “I’m surprised you have time in your busy schedule to smoke with your best friend.” Matthew laughed “I always make time for people, you know that.” You say as Matthew nods, biting his lip.

After another 8 hours filming… “And cut! We’re officially finished for Christmas!” The director called and everyone cheered “Glass of champagne Y/N?” A.J asked holding two up, secretly knowing you don’t like champagne and made sure Matthew grabbed the beer “No thanks AJ.” You politely decline, never being one for it. “Beer Y/N?” Matthew offers, holding two bottles with a cigarette in his other hand “You know how to win my heart Gube.” You smile taking the beer off him and yawn “I’m not that boring.” Matthew chuckled You shake your head, “Not you. I had to do another two voice overs during dinner break, so I haven’t eaten since lunch.” “Hey Tom, don’t eat that pizza!” Matthew shouts, and grabs the pizza box and brings it to you. “Here lovely.” He smiles at you, noticing it was your favourite, double cheese and ham. “I love you.” You say to the pizza and scoff it quickly, but secretly you’re saying it to Matthew, in a more than friends kind of way. “I love you.” Matthew thinks to himself and lights his cigarette as you put your head on his shoulder, as he wishes he could tell you his feelings

The following day, it’s the party. You are at your apartment putting on a floral dress and converse, with cute hoop earrings when your phone rings. “Oh, hi Pag, everything okay?” You ask “Yeah, you excited for tonight? I think someone may get lucky…” Paget giggled “Have you started drinking already?” You ask as Paget went silent, “Take that as a yes.” You think to yourself. “You going to open your front door or not?” Paget asked You open your front door and Paget is there holding a bottle of wine, half-drunk from. “You are such a fucking weirdo.” You say letting her in, “And who exactly pray tell, is going to get lucky tonight?” Paget giggles again, “You silly.” You look at Paget confused, “What are you on about?” “Oh, come on Y/N, you and Matthew. It’s so obvious.” Paget says as you take a drag from your e-cigarette, since you don’t smoke cigarettes in your flat. “He really likes you.” “You are my best friends.” You say exhaling, shaking her comment off knowing Matthew would never be interested in you. Paget opens her mouth to say something but drinks from the wine bottle instead. “Shall I book a cab?” She asks you “No, I have booked one, should be here in 10 minutes.” You say checking your phone Paget nods, “Alright miss organised.” She smirked 10 minutes later you and Paget were in the cab, taking a few selfies and chatting to the driver who is a fan of the show. “You have a lovely night ladies.” He smiled, as you paid him giving him a tip too. As you are about to open the cab door, someone opens it for you, it’s Matthew in a full suit, looking stunning, well, he was a model after all. “Ladies.” Matthew smiled “Thanks Matthew.” Paget said squishing his cheeks and kissing one of them “Thanks Gube.” You smile as Matthew kissed your cheek and you kissed his cheek back, noticing he was wearing the cologne you brought him for his birthday. “You’re welcome.” He smiled, blushing slightly as you all walked into the venue. “Now I understand why Joe organises these things, this venue is stunning.” You say looking everywhere “Thank you bambino.” Joe smiled greeting you with two soft kisses on the cheek “Hi Joe.” You smile at him, “Thank you for organising this.” “Of course.” He smiled and kissed Paget’s cheeks softly, and shook Matthew’s hand, “Gubler, you and I need a word.” “Ooooh.” You and Paget say “Where is the alcohol?” Paget asked “Right here.” Kirsten waved over to you two as the music started playing meanwhile Joe brought Matthew outside “What is it?” Matthew asked fiddling with his converse “Well, pretty boy, we just wanted to say we all know you’re totally in love with Y/N and…” Shemar began “Am not!” Matthew shouted as he blushed even redder “Your cheeks say otherwise.” Thomas said “We just wanted to say, go for it. She totally adores you.” Joe added “We’d advise you make it soon or she’ll end up kissing someone else under the mistletoe.” Shemar said wiggling his eyebrows gesturing to the mistletoe by the balcony Matthew sighed, nodding. “I need a drink.” He said “Oi Gube, our song is on!” You say gesturing him to come inside as ‘Fireflies’ by Owl City comes on “Coming.” Matthew smiled at you and took one of the beers you were holding as you danced together for a bit. “What was that about?” You ask as you twirl around “Oh, Shemar wanted some advice on this lady he’s dating.” Matthew shrugged “Aw how cute.” You smiled. The evening progressed, and everyone was pretty drunk now. “Y/N… You can’t vape in here.” Kirsten giggled taking your vape off you You pout and sigh, “Fine. I’ll vape outside.” You say, taking your vape back, in the last hour you lost Matthew but knew he was still around somewhere. As you go outside, you’re lighting a cigarette and see Joe, Matthew and Paget talking, overhearing Matthew say, “I’m going to tell her. I’m so in love with her.” and your heart breaks into two, but you put on a brave face and walk over anyway. You sip your glass of water, “Hi sweetpeas.” You smile “Heeeyyyy it’s Y/N!” Matthew says all excited, opening his arms out, holding a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Can I join you all?” You ask laughing at how Matthew is a bit more drunk than you “Course angel face.” Paget smiled Joe nods, “You never need to ask Y/N.” “Can I have some of your water?” Paget asks you You sit down and hand it to her as you take a drag from your cigarette. “Those things will kill you.” Joe winked at you as he lit a cigar “Those things will kill you.” You winked back “Can I have a puff Y/N? I don’t want a whole cigarette, but you smoke my favourite brand.” Paget says You roll your eyes in a sarcastic manner, “All it is tonight is is Y/N pass me my wine, Y/N can I have some wine, Y/N can you go with me to the ladies room, Y/N can I have a puff of your cigarette. God, Paget, you’re so fucking needy.” You laugh as everyone else does, and you hand your cigarette to her “Thanks babe.” Paget says and you all take a few selfies putting a few on your Instagram. Joe’s phone rings, “Better tell the wife I’m getting a taxi home.” He says, “See you back in there.” As you all nod “Oopsies, I’m out of wine, I’ll see you both in there.” Paget says and waddles off as you laugh at her Matthew chuckles and lights another cigarette up as a cool breeze hits you both. “I should’ve brought a coat.” You say shuddering as Matthew takes off his jacket and drapes it over you. “Aw, thanks Gube but won’t you get cold?” You ask feeling bad Matthew shakes his head, “I’m quite hot.” He says wiggling his eyebrows as he exhales from his cigarette “Yeah, you are.” You accidentally say out-loud and bite your lip, so you don’t say anything else “What was that?” Matthew asked “Nothing.” You say shaking your head “Nu-uh Y/N. I heard you say something.” Matthew said poking your arm gently You groan, “I said you are hot. Happy?” “Well, I think you’re beautiful.” Matthew said, returning the compliment “Really?” You ask exhaling from your cigarette “Really, really.” Matthew said and looked up, “Mistletoe.” He said pointing at it “Mistletoe.” You repeated, “It’s okay if you don’t wa…” You say as Matthew brings you in for a deep kiss, letting it do the talking. After a few moments, you break the kiss and smile at him. “Y/N, I’ve fancied you, and been in love with you for years, even before you started on the show.” Matthew began, “But when you started on the show you were seeing someone else, and I was seeing some…” He rambled as you pulled him in for another kiss “Shut up.” You say giggling “So you’re not seeing anyone?” Matthew asked “I’m seeing someone now…” You smirk “Who?” Matthew asked “For someone who plays a genius with an IQ of 180, you are incredibly dense.” You laugh “Oh me?” Matthew asked You nod, “If you want us to be.” “I want us to be.” Matthew said holding your hand “Me too.” You smile squeezing his hand softly “Merry Christmas Y/N.” Matthew smiled as you put your head on his shoulder smiling to yourself “Merry Christmas Matthew.” You smile

Taglist (open): @pumpkin-goob , @andiebeaword , @hopebaker , @hotchsbabygirl , @hercleverboy , @cupcake525 , @gubetube , @aperrywilliams , @cosmic-psychickitty , @marleyhotchner , @gubler-me-up , @goldentournesol , @jenna-jd , @reidgraygubler , @g0ldengubler , @gcblers , @peachpitfics , @reidbuck , @spencerreid-mgg

#Criminal Minds #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler fiction #my fics

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peraltasames · 4 years ago

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gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies

written for @397bartonstreet for the @b99fandomevents summer fic exchange for the prompt peraltiago + pda!! i hope you like it!!

read on ao3

The first night Jake and Amy spend out of the cozy confines of their apartment after he comes home is magical - filled with salty ocean air and warm breezes and plentiful food and wine supplied by Charles.

It’s one of those end-of-summer nights that you appreciate all the more for the finality of it all, knowing that there are a limited number of evenings like this left before the air gets colder and the leaves begin to turn brown.

It’s the kind of night Amy would have loved at any time of her life, regardless of the circumstances, but it’s made so much better by the company - comprised of her closest friends and, more importantly, her fresh-out-of-prison boyfriend.

Amy hasn’t been able to pry herself away from him unless absolutely necessary since she greeted him at JFK two weeks ago. She’s soaking up every glorious moment of being with Jake, every kiss and hug and joke that she’s been robbed of for the past few months.

It was only an invitation to Charles’ beach house - his ex-wife gave him a few extra months with it after she bought a condo in Florida for the winter - that persuaded them to leave the city for the night and spend time with the squad.

This is how she finds herself curled up into Jake’s side on the back deck overlooking the ocean, absorbed in pure happiness.

His arm is wrapped around her, the other stroking her legs that are tucked into his lap, and her head is resting in the crook of his neck. Periodically, she’ll reach up to run her fingers through his hair or kiss his jaw and cheek. A different, younger version of herself would’ve thought this to be too much PDA, especially in front of their colleagues (not Holt, thankfully, as he and Kevin had tickets to the Opera), but every day she’s spent apart from the love of her life has stripped away her concern for social etiquette a little more.

There’s been a few borderline-creepy comments from Charles or raised eyebrows from the rest of the group, but for the most part, everyone else seems to be giving them the same free pass to be as abhorrently cheesy as they desire.

Her cheeks are hot from the tequila shots Rosa keeps pouring, a common occurrence in the few days since her breakup with Pimento. Amy got drunk with her at Shaw’s as per their post-breakup tradition (the end of her relationship with Adrian earned them more shots than Marcus and Teddy combined) but still returned home to Jake by 9:30. Needless to say, Rosa understood.

Her insides feel equally warm each time Jake whispers a sweet nothing in her ear, always accompanied by a kiss to her temple.

He cracks a joke - something stupid and dorky which she only heard in fragments over the music and chatter - which makes the rest of the group erupt in laughter. It’s so familiar that Amy can’t resist angling her head to look up at her boyfriend’s crooked grin and wide eyes, finally starting to regain some of their sparkle. She thinks she could gaze at him for years without getting bored. She’s not sure how long actually passes - probably at least five minutes, but it could be hours - before he notices her eyes lingering on his face and looks back at her.

He raises an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, a silent “are you okay?” that’s become part of their secret language, to which she nods and smiles. He leans in for a kiss, which she sinks into wholeheartedly. When he begins to pull away, Amy grabs his face to anchor herself and kisses him harder, moaning softly as his tongue slips into her mouth, and-

“Ahem.”

Amy pulls away from Jake quickly, nearly falling out of her chair in surprise at the loud noise. All eyes are on them, and Gina’s arms are crossed.

“Okay, lovebirds - I get it. We all totally get it. We’re all very happy you two are reunited and super in love and all that crap. But you literally have a bedroom,” Gina gestures to the house, “less than twenty feet away.”

“We wanted to hang out with everyone!” Jake says defensively. “We haven’t even been that bad.”

“Amy’s been staring at you for the past twenty minutes straight, and you guys haven’t let go of each other since we got here,” Rosa adds. “I’m pretty sure you went to the bathroom together.”

“We both had to go!”

“Seriously guys, just do us all a favour and go hang out alone,” Terry says.

Like a flash, Charles stands up and darts into the house, arriving less than thirty seconds later with a blanket, an unopened bottle of wine, and a wide-eyed grin that can only mean he’s about to get way too involved in their relationship.

Jake, who knows this look as well as Amy does, makes a last-ditch attempt to stop this before it begins. “Charles-“

“Jake, take this stuff and Amy and your epic love for one another and get your butt down to that beach to watch the sunset or I will drag you there myself.”

Normally, they would both be far too stubborn to agree to a plan like this and remain with their friends out of spite, but they’re both still tired and weary from the months of long days and restless nights. Plus, having a few minutes to themselves sounds really good right now.

Amy manages to communicate this to him in a single glance, a testament to how well they truly know each other, and Jake takes her by the hand and reluctantly grabs the blanket and wine from Charles with the other.

“Have fun, you two!” Charles shouts as they embark on the path down to the water. “And do whatever you want, there’s nobody around for miles!”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Don’t ruin it, man!”

The beach is deserted for as far as they can see in either direction, so they walk for about five minutes until they’re sufficiently distanced from the house and lay the blanket down on the cool sand. It‘s still warm enough to be comfortable, but the cool breeze coming off the water as the waves crash against the shore is enough to send Amy right into Jake’s waiting arms (not that she needed an excuse, of course).

His arms automatically wrap around her, and she leans back against his chest so they both have an optimal view of the orange and pink hues over the horizon.

“Are we bad friends?” Jake murmurs in her ear.

Any shakes her head decisively, grabbing his hand where it rests on her ribcage and sliding their fingers together.

“No, I think we get at least another week or two of being this obnoxious.”

“We did kinda earn it,” he agrees.

Amy relishes the last moments of what has to have been the worst summer of her life with the best possible ending. She’s not sure she would’ve believed even a month ago that she would end up here so soon, holding her boyfriend close instead of an old hoodie or tear-stained picture frame.

“This view is amazing,” Amy sighs, leaning further into him.

“This one’s better,” Jake says, tilting her head slightly until their lips meet. “Too cheesy?”

“Nope,” Amy mumbles between kisses. “The perfect amount of cheese.”

“Mm, just like Sal’s-”

“Babe, can we not talk about pizza toppings while we’re making out?”

“Cool, cool, good rule.”

She turns her body so she’s hovering over him and presses a long, slow kiss to his lips, letting herself linger in his space when she pulls away.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, their noses still touching.

Jake’s hands run down her body, sending chills up her spine. “I love you so much, Ames.”

She kisses him again, with more force than before, and they continue kissing and laughing and cherishing every moment with each other while the waves crash on the beach. They don’t make it back to the house until well after the sun has disappeared over the horizon.

#b99 summer 2020 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #jake x amy #my fics

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charmed-asylum · 4 years ago

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𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 , Chapter 1

Summary: Rosary Woods used to spend her summers in Hawkins. Now years later with untimely death of her father, she sent to live with her grandparents. Coming back to a place that use to give her pleasant memories but now full with dark secrets she hopes never see daylight. Her plan was simple easy till one night she finds a drunk boy full of curls and after life never the same.

FYI: This is my 1st fanfic. I do have dyslexia so if something wrong let me know. If you like it let me know same if you don’t. #Foodie be out this week too. ** Side note I’m looking for some talent ** tag list open

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓈𝓉

Tagged: @alagalaska @nottherightseason @alias-b @screensirenfic @linkispink1995 @staticscreenwriting

How the hell did all this happened. How the FUCK this happen. How did I end up alone on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere? Cold as hell with a runny nose from my tears and sharp pain of betrayal. I know now. It all started a couple of months ago. When I was tossed into this hickory town. Where one night find a stupid blue eyes boy drunk out his mind. With your stupid Mother, Mary's attitude had to help him. Now that drunk piece of shit made you fall for him to drop kick you in a small amount of a few months.

My brown eyes fill with glittery tears, tried to think back on every step that lead me here what was it? What did I do wrong? What I would do to go back to that night in October. Go back to that day I met that boy that came out of nowhere and changed my life

🍂🍂🍂

The fall air left a warm scent as I walk out the greyhound in my short denim overalls with a plain white short-sleeved shirt and black and white converses with black laces. My long midnight black wavy hair dancing with the wind with my red heart shades on, taking my around at my surroundings. Even though I have been here many times, this was the first time I came that wasn’t summer visits.

Those had an arrival and departure two way this time though was a one way. It was a lot different than home, Florida. It’s always sunny and things to do unlike here. Flipping my cassette player back on I walk over to the rusted metal benches and wait for my ride. I didn’t want to be here. However, when you have no other choice what can you do. My life stuffed in my dad's old beat-up army bag. I lend back hoping this was a dream and I wake up home with my dad not here. I didn’t hate here I just hate why I’m here. The two-day bus rides a dread and didn't help. Still, I’m stuck with nothing to do but cruise under the radar till graduation. Toss the cap in the air and by the time it's back in my hands I have another ticket to somewhere else.

I gentle tap took me out from my inner monologue into reality. An older woman in her 60s with short curly golden frost hair bright red lipstick that got bit on her front tooth in a flower print long dress. In all, she was the fifth unseen golden girl or what I know her as grams.

“‘HELLO ROSARY. You hear me call for you over there by the car” Grams shouts into my ear. Looking up at her I smile and move my bag out the way to hug her tight.

“ Sorry, the meds got me all out of it. Hi, grams it good to see you” I said holding onto the strap of my bag. She gave me a nod and kiss my cheek leaving an imprint.

“ Oh shut I forgot. Sorry, we couldn’t get your flights no airport close by. Sweetie. Grab your bag we can go home” Grams says walking and talking to the car. Tucking my shades in my pocket I follow her music still playing in my ears.

“ Where Papa at,” I asked looking out the window.

“ Oh, he at the diner checking on things. But he will be back by dinner. I sign you up for school. You start tomorrow. Your car will be ship here in two weeks so the bus to school till then” Grams said pulling up to the house. “ Look, honey. I know things have been hard the last few months but coming here can be your fresh start. So it’s up to you what you do. Stay sane try to be different better you dear” Grams said getting out of the car. Simply put it don’t fuck up this time.

“ Yes. Ma’am. I’m gonna the perfect granddaughter” I said with a eat shit grin.

“Don’t do that it’s tacky. I did not mean what I said that way sweetie. Huh lord, I need my soaps. Drop your stuff in your room” Grams said walking into the house.

My room more like a guest room. They tried though I give them that the last time I been here was years ago when I was 11. Then after that was with my dad across seas. By then the damage was done. Walls were eggshell white with a few pictures of me by dad and them that set on the wall by the window. The bed was against the wall with a small glass nightstand with a trunk in front. Probably the same one my dad had when he was my age. The small closet across the bed and an old oakwood dresser. This will do I’m sure in no time she can make it homie. I push my hand on the bed testing out the string a bit. This is my life now. Better just get used to it. Anger bubble deep in my chest as it slowly starts to hit me. This is a life I don't want. I wanted the life I had before one that was far from perfect but he was there. I toss my bag beside me with a bit of force and scream into my hands.

It took no time till I was done. I change up the pictures and some more on my dresser. A few things on the nightstand then to top it off my mint condition organized record collection in a purple crat that sat beside my dad's 1960s Gibson Hummingbird Fixed Bridge acoustic guitar.

“ So you all done. It’s not much but we go somewhere someday. Sorry, papa wasn’t here. After Benny passed away our place been the hot spot. Back to the glory days, he says” Grams said with a chuckle. I sat down beside her legs cross under me and started to flip through Good Housekeeping

“ So Benny no more. Anything else happens since I have been here last” I asked getting comfortable.

“Let's see. That Will kid you babysit a few times went miss for a week or so. Last year. And that’s about it. I don’t pay much attention to those things. Papa and I are going to bible study tonight. I know you not up to it this week. So you don’t have to go but I am looking forward to next week” Grams said. I ruffled my hand into my deep chocolate hair and nod yes.

“ I would love that. Thank you. That reminds me. I have to fill up on my pain killers. If it’s not much to ask can you please take me one day this week? Or may I go into town myself” I asked taking out my pill bottle?

Still, months later the pain reminds the same. Even the memories still were in tack as if it happened minutes ago. A tear rolled down my face just reliving it. Grams hold me tight smoothing me and rubbing my back as I let out a heavy cry. My dainty finger claw into her shoulder blade as tight as possible. I didn’t hate that I was here I just hate the why.

🌙🌙🌙

DADDY!!” I shout out. My body was soaked with a cold sweat and tears still running down my cheeks. Too weak to even move, I bend over cup my hands into my face, and scream.

Always the nightmares. Always the same two each night. Back home I would find a party or smoke or wave to ride but here. NOTHING. I promise a new me I remind myself. One that is not set to explode any second. One that took all their demons and bury it in the deepest hole. This me doesn’t let them loose but keep them hidden tight. That won’t break and burn everything she touches. This me be gentle, kind, and read the Bible instead of throwing my fist. I promise my father that even my estranged grandparents will be better.

After a good pity party, I decided to stay wasn’t gonna help me. I needed to out. I toss on some navy blue gym shorts pull down my Scooby-Doo t-shirt, which was getting a little bit smaller than last time I warn it years ago, decided for a walk.

Grams and Papa came back from church just after 11. Just missing the kids trick or treating. I stay back gave an empty smile say hello few folks who came by or heard over the rumor mill I was back. None who I really care about. The clock blink, 3:00. The cool breeze comforts me like a blanket over my shoulders. Music played close to mute. I thought about it all. If he at peace would I see him again. Could I make it to June in this town?

Far ahead of me on my way back, I saw a figure laying on the crisp grass. After the stories, Grams told me I wonder if it was anything important. As I got closer I saw an outline of a person. I stop and slow my walking this time with caution. Till I was right beside him. He was rocking back and forth humming some song no shirt tight-ass pants and hair messy with no shoes. This boy diffidently was fucking or having a good time. Part of me envies him and that freedom. Another knew it was because even if I don’t say it out loud he beautiful mess. Totally my type and that what it got tricky he was a reminder of the past I was hoping to leave behind. Flipping my hair out my face I got down to eye level and gently touch him.

“ Hey Hey you alright, “ I asked shaking him a bit.

He looks up and grins at me with a sleepy doozy grin. His eyes sparkle in the night sky and for a second I forgot he was drunk. My stomach did this thing I only ever felt a few times before. Back when I was happy. I shook my head and look around for help or at less to see if he drove or had friends. No luck. Part of me thought it be best to leave but then I saw it. Right below his eyes the old bruise and cuts. My jaw tightened till it clicks.

“ Mommy. Mommy” he said touching my face. I felt the cold touch of his ring against my lips. I tap it to the side and wrap his arm around me to get him up. Praying to God he, not a psycho, or I will regret this. He started to kiss my neck all while calling me mommy. Kinky mother fucker

“ Yeah Hot Wheels, not your mommy come on almost there,” I said helping him back home. He giggles and tried to be a handy hand reaching my hip and butt.

“ Holy shit your you are your a doll baby” he slurred into my ear.

Praying any god’s that my grandparents don’t wake up to him almost knocking everything down. I put my hand to his mouth and a finger to mine so he shut up. On the first day of this new me, I’m playing babysitting to a drunk man child. With ease, I toss him on my bed. He cuddles with one of my pillows squeezing my old grumpy carebear and drifts to sleep. I waited a second before I went and made my own special hangover shake and a bucket for the morning. Taking more time time to clean his face a bit and hand as gentle as I could. Time blink at 3:58, I sat on the floor against my dresser and watch him sleep. Wondering if a boy like that had nightmares too.

I woke up two hours later. Still on the floor face left with a carpet imprint. The boy from this morning now turns over to the other side against the wall sound asleep. I got up from my spot on wobbly legs grab some things and head to the bathroom.

As the cold water hit my face I kept thinking about before till the face of baby blue came into mine. His eyes look like way mine when I look into the mirror and it puzzles me. Never have I found someone else that had the same eyes as mine. Apart from me wonder what was behind those eyes. I shack it off as I dry my hair. If the boy's eyes look like mine then that means on things, his demons were just as bad. I change into tacky stuck in time uniform and walk back deep in thoughts when I stop. The boy was gone. I rush out of my room almost tripping over my own foot, empty. Nothing change in my room just the note. It wasn’t till I sat and smell the faint scent of cologne and cigarettes. It wasn’t a dream he was real. I laugh at myself there no way I will be seeing him again.

🍂🍂🍂

He couldn’t remember much just that her face was half cover by her loose curly hair that shines against the streetlight. The innocent big brown eyes that went with a sugar-sweet smile. Even though she was nowhere close to his mom. He couldn’t help but think about her. He never saw someone that beautiful before. Holding on to her tight sniff her in, honey and vanilla. He wanted to stare at her as long as he could but as soon as he hit the twin size bed he was out.

“Fuck am I” he hissed holding his head trying to think what happened last night. Last he remembered was making out with some blonde at the Halloween party or was it sex. His eyes look at the cup and bucket. Brown eye. He slowly picks up the note and read it:

Sleepy Head, First off we did not have sex and no I don’t know you. What I can tell you is this you were drunk and laying on someone's lawn alone. I live on Church street and Maple Lane. If it’s before 6 and your reading this back door

He laughs at the note and put it back where he found it. It was still early Neil wouldn’t be awake if he left now. He thought maybe he leave a thank you but it decided against it. He promised himself no attachment just to graduate, save up, and leave. No room for nothing else. Before he left he heard noises from the bathroom. Sound like a peaceful lullaby. Inching close he peaks in to see a figure from behind the curtain. Shaking his head he slips out and all his Mary way her black and white Adidas flip flops whistling her lullaby.

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checkerflats · 4 years ago

Text

Haven't been on tumblr in a long time. Felt like this was a decent place to write since nobody I know really uses tumblr anymore. I wanted to talk about my journey over the last few years and tumblr feels private enough a place to do so.

I moved to Florida 3 years ago (well as of this upcoming March) and at first life was decent. I tried to acclimate myself, stay healthy, positive, supportive, etc. At some point during that first year, I became incredibly depressed, nervous, anxious, overwhelmed trying to support myself (I did have a good friend group to help me) but down the line I had convinced myself I had a plan and that it was 'my plan, I thought of it' so instead of talking to the people I cared about and loved, I continued to try to do things in my own way.

A belief is a thought you have that you like. My belief was that I was the only one who could tell me what to do. And I never told myself to shut up and listen to people; realize they're saying what they're saying because they care. I became toxically selfish. I started judging my friends and peers opinions, being an asshole, being inconsiderate to everyone around me, unwilling to talk about my issues (and if I did I sounded like a narcissistic twat), etc.

To make a long story short, I resulted to drinking to cope with my overwhelmed thoughts and feelings. This isnt an excuse. It's just what happened. It in no way makes my behavior acceptable. In fact, anyone who knows me and how I act when drinking changes my thinking patterns would attest that it's only ever made anything worse. Even days or weeks without doing so, it affects me on such a negative level that negativity is the only lense through which I view the world and its inhabitants. I become the definition of nihilistic.

This led me to losing my friends, my loved ones, my job, housing, and ultimately respect from others and respect for myself. It was devastating and I did it to myself. After July of 2019 I started to refrain from drinking and honestly believed I had become the best version of myself. I got a new apartment, job, new friends who have still supported me to this day, albeit, upon making these leisurely friends who wanted to be wild, I felt I should--I wanted to participate. It was fun for a minute, and I was sober for about a month or two..

I'd begun to drink with them every now and then, never alone or at home, never two days in a row. I thought I could be a casual drinker. However, these friends and I stopped drinking for the most part, and begun to do a lot of acid (one thing I wouldn't say is neccesarily bad or addictive, in moderation) and a LOT of xanax. I started to learn a whole new meaning of 'fucked up' and went downhill faster than Jack and Jill could even imagine, baby!

By December, a friend and I decided we'd start doing cocaine. Fuck it, right? That got bad quick. It only lasted about 2 months on and off until we realized how crazy it was and that we needed to actually save our money (and sanity) so we stopped. By this point (March/April of 2020) I'd stopped doing everything other than weed. That inevitably led me straight back to drinking. This time it was everyday again, alone, at home, you get the point. When coronavirus hit I lost my job, couldn't find another anywhere therefore couldnt afford rent, was constantly in scary situations for 2 months (drunk), and decided it was best to GTFO and high tail it back to Ohio by May of 2020.

This took me months to realize, but I had so subtly slipped back into mass depression. Being back in Ohio, around triggers and friends who'd grown apart from me, I felt helpless and alone. I began drinking all the time. When I'd wake up, all throughout my shifts at work, at 2 am once the beers I'd had after work were buzzing off.. I was having the worst thoughts and feelings possible that I won't elaborate on because, again, I don't want to sound like I'm making excuses or even manipulating the perception of whoever might read this. I did this to myself. My behavior was absolutley unacceptable. I'd been put on probation for drinking, I'd been arrested for it even once in my own bed sound asleep (lets not go into how corrupt the law enforcement is in Mansfield, OH). The point is I'd broken the law and, regardless of the circumstances, the law is the law and it comes with consequences.

By October of 2020 I'd agreed that the best case of action was to go to a treatment center for addiction. The center was more or less a joke at first until a counselor committed to actually helping us started working there in mid-November. All in all being sober long enough to get back to a focused, rational, kind state of mind has put me in a euphoric state of content more so than any materialistic or temporary feeling that a substance or whatever else could bring me. Real peace is better than fake, self-driven delusion. I got released from the center today (1/13/21).

What I'm trying to get across is that if it wasnt for those who care for me after all the shit I've put them through, if I hadn't accepted I had a problem and my plan wasnt working, I'd still be that other guy. If you give up your ideals and listen to a 'Higher Power', (a 'God', a group of people as in power in numbers, a spiritual intuition that things happen for a reason and you agree you alone can't solve issues the same way you've tried 1000 times over and failed) whatever your view on that is, if you are willing to change and accept support you will be able to find genuine serenity.

That other guy is still in there. I have to continue working my program daily and catch myself if I slip up, be prepared to tell others, make amends (unless that would make things worse) and by all means listen to their advice in order to turn 4 months of sobriety (even from weed, but this is mostly about drinking) into 4 years, and so on. If you read all this (well first off, thank you, like.. golly!) and you are someone who knows me, then I'm sure that's hard to believe because everyone who knows me has heard me say before that 'I am quitting alcohol!' when in all honestly all those same people probably knew damn well I was just trying to convince them rather than myself and even if I did want to stop, I still had a desire to do it. That's where I can finally cut ties and announce that I, personally to myself, no longer have the desire for alcohol. Today. Right now. One day at a time. I despise it. It took my ambitions and spat them in my face along with my kindness, positivity, all my goals and loved ones like they all meant nothing and I am sick and tired of enabling that feeling. The world we live in is full addiction. Eating, technology, fame, money, power, caffeine, nicotone, sugar, sex, drugs, rock and roll--you get it okay? None of those will bring anything of substantial value or genuine joy. Being selfish will bring nothing but suffering. Be kind and loving. Love is salvation.

Once more, if you read all this, you're a saint and I thank you and hope your life, if not already, becomes (and continues to be) positive, peaceful and great. Love yourself, the best and worst. Face fear head on and never give up. Always lend a hand to those who clearly need it and if they turn it away like I did so many times, all you can do is hope and pray they'll get to the point of acceptance someday. I am so grateful for the oppurtunity I had to turn my life around. I am thankful for every single person who's come and gone and the help they offered before and after I actually admitted it was neccessary. I'll try and be of service to others when and where I can. Stay safe, world.

-cone

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abalonetea · 3 years ago

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Just Keep Breathing: Chapter One

I was partnered with @the-dot for the @originalfictionbigbang! Thank you for working with me, Dot!

Here is the first chapter! I’ve split the first 10k words between four chapters, and will be posting them all in a masterpost in just a moment!

Summary: It’s the height of storm season and everyone in Hi-Banks, Florida is getting ready for the bad weather. It should be a year like any other - but on the tails of a national pandemic, a new disaster strikes. More than one new disasters. So many disasters that Eddie Carver would like to put some of them back, thanks. He’s just a down on his luck guy living in the local trailer park with his boyfriend. He’s not interested in dealing with the revival of an old murder case - which he knows nothing about, thanks -, the storm season of the century, or…zombies?

Yeah. Absolutely not interested in the zombies.

This black-comedy follows the inner workings of a small town as they band together to survive, and the young man - reckless, mean, angry, written off b the big city folk come to look into a cold case - that might hold all of societies survival in his hands.

Forget about society. Eddie’s only interested in keeping his friends alive.

Chapter One – Hi Banks Florida

“ - increased reports of unprecedented aggression all across New York City. This is following in the wake of Mayor Alex Grand’s assault on his wife. These attacks have increased nearly ten fold in the wake of the recent vaccine’s release, prompting many to wonder if the vaccine was released too soon – should more tests have been done? Could this be a side effect of it? We have reached out to the head of the FDA, Doctor - “

The television goes to pure static, a hissing crackle of black and white fuzz. Eddie groans. “Seriously? I was watchin’ that!”

“Guess you ain’t watching it now,” says Carson, draping himself over the back of the couch. He curls an arm around Eddie’s chest, pinning him against the back of the couch. “You should be at work, anyway.”

“Penny don’t got work for me today.”

“Then you should be out working on the truck. I’m sick of walking to the docks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He shifts, leaning up and wrapping his own arms around Carson’s neck, tugging until his boyfriend is leaning down enough that Eddie can kiss him. “I can’t fix the truck ‘till we get a part mailed in. Penny let me use the work account.”

“Bullshit,” says Carson. “You just don’t want too.”

“It ain’t bullshit. It’s, uh, truth shit.”

“Wow.” Carson shakes off Eddie’s grip. “You worked hard on that one, huh? Whatever, don’t work on the truck. I’ve got actual work to get too.”

Eddie twists, pulling himself up so he can drape over the back of the couch. “Gonna rain today. Take an extra shirt.”

Carson says, “sure, I’ll put it in the truck so it stays dry. Oh, wait.”

And, okay, so Eddie kind of deserves that one. The truck hasn’t been running for almost a week now. This isn’t the first time that it’s stopped working. Carson bought it straight out of the local junkyard five years back, and it’s pretty much held together with duck tape – literally – and chewing gum – which might be the next step.

Eddie really is waiting on the part to come in.

The problem is that he sort of forgot to order it until yesterday.

Drooping, Eddie makes a disgruntled sound. “I’ll see if I can’t fudge it, okay? Just, I dunno, don’t get hit by lightning. The storm’s supposed to be nasty.”

“Great.” Carson shoves on one boot, then the other. “So we’re going to have no power tonight.”

“I’ll fill the tub.”

“Summer sucks ass.”

“Florida sucks ass,” corrects Eddie.

Carson thinks on it, then bobs his head in agreement. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go with that one.”

“You gonna be home for - “ The television bursts back into being with a crackle of too loud sound. Eddie swears.

The woman on TV reads off, “ - no official links between the two. Gerald Harbrinks has been arrested today for the most bizarre case of armed robbery the county has ever seen, in which he dropped his gun and instead chose to bite the cashier - “

Eddie mutes it. “Sorry. One’a these days we need to get actual cable.”

“Yeah, when toads fly,” says Carson. “You doing dinner?”

Eddie thinks about what they have in the pantry. Not much, but probably enough to throw at least half a meal together. He’s better at cooking and coming up with things than Carson is. “Yeah. You going to be back before dark?”

Carson shrugs. “How should I know? They never tell me anything. I might not even have to stay if it rains.”

“Babe, if it rains, they’re gonna make you stay out of spite, and you know it,” says Eddie, because the guy who runs the docks is kind of an ass.

Carson grunts. “Thanks for the reassurance.”

“No problem.” Eddie shuts the TV off all the way and finally pries himself up off of the couch. “So, dinner, unless we lose power. We’ll have to hit up Red’s. He’s got that grill or whatever.”

He sways his way over to his boyfriend, plasters himself against Carson’s front and schmoozes his way in for a kiss. Carson curls an arm around him for a moment, then makes a face. “Come on, man. I gotta at least get down there before the rain starts or I won’t make shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” says Eddie. “Get outta here. Don’t get drowned or nothing.”

* * *

Hi Banks, Florida is the sort of place you’re born into, you slog through, and then you die in. And mostly, the people are okay with that. Why leave a good thing, right? Or maybe it’s more that the people born into Hi Banks just have a hard time getting together the chance to leave.

The trailer park is on the backside of town, filled up with old mobile homes and trailers parked up on cinder blocks. The paths between homes flood any time it rains and Eddie makes a point of sloshing his way through the puddles until the inside of his sneakers are soaked and his stained up jeans are covered in mud. Splash! Slosh! Splat!

The Calloway’s have added a new pick up truck to the collection of cars sitting out front. Eddie would bet it’s like the rest of their vehicles and the engine doesn’t actually roll over. Not that he can say too much on that front, considering his own truck.

If there’s any chance that he can trick the thing into running, he needs another quart of oil and – well, it is his fault that Carson’s going to have to walk home in the rain later, so Eddie figures he’ll pick up a box of swiss rolls while he’s out. Swiss rolls are Carson’s favorite.

Sweets in general are his favorite, but whatever.

So he sloshes his way through the trailer park and out onto the long, main road that cuts through the center of town. If you keep going long enough in one direction, it will take you to the highway. Keep going long enough in the other, you’ll hit the swamps.

There’s just the one commercially owned grocery store in the whole town. The parking lot is mostly empty, which isn’t a surprise considering it’s the middle of a Monday, and also about to cut loose. The wind’s started to pick up and everything, clouds dark and violent overhead. Eddie scurries into the shop, muttering a brief ‘hey’ to Annie Green when he passes her counter and heads towards the back.

Fitz is curled over the meat case muttering under his breath to himself, which is less unusual than it sounds. Eddie opts not to wave at him, and instead just goes for the cake aisle. It’s so picked over that it’s ridiculous. There aren’t any swiss rolls so he grabs the oatmeal cookies instead.

No doubt that the milk and bread aisles are already empty, to go with the alarmingly small amount of paper product. Up at the check out, he asks Anne, “you seen Roy come in yet today? He owes me ten bucks.”

“Nope.” The machine beeps when Anne scans the box of cookies. “Is Ftiz still back at the meat? I swear, he’s been in here for an hour.”

“Yeah. Maybe he’s stocking up on it.”

“Even Fitz isn’t stupid enough to stock up on meat right before we’re due for hurricane season.” Anne holds out her hand and Eddie fishes a crumpled five from his back pocket to pass over. “You talk to him?”

“Nope.”

Anne heaves out a sigh. “Great. Guess I can walk back and deal with it. If he’s drunk - “

“If he’s drunk, call his wife. She’ll have his ass for drinking that much this early in the day.”

Anne snorts. “Yeah, she will.”

Eddie shifts from one foot to the next, peering out the glass front doors. It’s still raining hard outside. “You think this is gonna light up any time soon?”

“Supposed to rain all evening. I’m surprised that they haven’t canceled work at the docks,” says Anne.

“Ugh. Great. Just, double bag them, I guess. I have to walk back in this.”

Anne doubles the bag and Eddie steps back out into the deluge. He’s soaked in a matter of minutes.

* * *

“Fucking Hell!” Eddie shakes himself off as he steps into the trailer. He fumbles around in the dark for the first few minutes, stripping out of his sodden clothes and down to his equally sodden boxers. Still swearing, he drops the bag of soaked oatmeal cookies onto the counter and flips on the light switch for the kitchen.

Nothing happens.

Eddie swears louder.

There’s the sound of something shuffling about from the bedroom. Eddie grabs the natty tea towel off the front of the stove handle and uses it to wipe off his face. “That you, babe?”

No answer. The shuffling sound gets closer. Eddie rolls his eyes and attempts to pat himself dry with the hand towel. It has a mixed amount of success in actually accomplishing anything.

“I got you cookies. They should be dry. Cause of the plastic and stuff?”

Still no answer. Eddie mutters under his breath. Fine, he’ll just have the cookies himself.

He pops open the plastic wrapper and pulls out a handful of them, carrying them over to the couch – where he finds Carson stretched out, massive headphones in, and a blanket pulled down over him.

“What the Hell, man.” Eddie kicks the couch base. “Move your legs.”

Carson grumbles and slides his headphones out. “When did you get back?”

“Like, five minutes ago. I went to get you cakes, but they didn’t have none.” He passes Carson a cookie instead. “You could’ve said something when you came out of the bedroom.”

Carson squints at him. “What are you talking about?”

Something in the bedroom is knocked over. CRASH. Eddie jerks, spinning around and squinting into the dark of the trailer. “So, uh, that’s not you.”

“Of course it ain’t me,” says Carson. He shoves the blanket onto the back of the couch, swings his legs over the cushions, and leverages himself up. There’s a bat by the front door. Eddie grabs it and passes it to Carson, because he’s tiny and Carson’s not.

“Chicken,” mutters Carson, but he doesn’t look thrilled to have to go deal with this. “We got that flashlight in the kitchen?”

“Batteries are dead,” says Eddie.

“Great. Storm season, and we’ve got bad batteries.”

“Pretty sure that’s not a hurricane breaking stuff in our bedroom, babe.”

Carson shoots Eddie an unimpressed look. “No duh.”

They make their way to the little off shooting bedroom, Eddie tucked close to Carson’s back. It’s at least still early enough in the evening that wane, yellow light creeps in through the nearby window. Carson presses a hand to the door, pulls in a deep breath, and shoves it open.

What happens next happens fast: there’s motion from the over turned bedside table. Carson swings with the bat, effectively smashing their lamp to pieces. The neighbor’s fat, orange tabby cat gives an indignant hiss and jumps onto the bed, then out through the nearby busted window. There’s glass all over everything, from the lamp and the window, and rain has blown in from the storm soaking the bed and the table in equal parts. The carpet nearby squishes loudly when Carson takes a step.

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Window’s broke.”

Carson drops the bat onto the ground. “That’s it. We’re going to Red’s.”

#wip jkb #my writing #zombies #original fiction big bang #writeblr

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hedonisthierophant · 4 years ago

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Unveiled eyes and bloodless lips -A skarsgard multiverse thing.

A universe of many Bills, a couple AHAs, and a few others.

@grandpa-sweaters You asked for fic with The Kid and instead I somehow came up with this monstrosity. I’m not sure if you’ve ever read my writing before but I’m sorry.

Dedicated to my literary soulmate @ill-skillsgard I hope you don’t hate it.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, gore, spit kink, cuckoldry, degradation, injury, death.

Unveiled eyes and bloodless lips

The witch had lost this game long before she even started playing, the final result such a foregone conclusion that it might be more accurate in fact to say she had lost before she had even been born. Forces much larger than her, to call them even titanic in scope would be an understatement, had been attending to the moves of the board since time immemorial. To say her fate such as it was had been decided back then is to grievously misstate the situation. Her exact destiny was fiercely contested on the board of play, it could’ve turned out completely differently, unfolding along anyone of the infinite myriad of paths of kismet. But her doom? That became inevitable she drew the attention of the game’s players. Naturally she remained unaware of the inescapable quality of her demise, she fought against it until the very last moment, her ferocious zeal, her skill and talent, all of it amounted to naught, For what hope does in an insect have against flood? Through no fault of her own, her perspective on this eons-long contest she had the misfortune of being prescribed to enter was…limited. In actuality the word “limited” doesn’t begin to convey the magnitude of her ignorance, imagine if you will placing your eye at a keyhole and attempting to catch a glimpse of a room darkened to pitch black. Some less astute souls might say that her involvement in the affair was rather like bringing a deaf person to the symphony but you dear reader know better, I should hope. Someone who cannot hear will have a different experience with music to be sure, but an experience they will have, the concepts on display remain within the realm of understanding. In our case a young woman became the toy of forces so far beyond her ken that she was to them as an amoeba might be to one of us beneath the prying lens of a microscope. As you may have surmised the tragedy that brings my voyeuristic audience to me unfolded slowly, spanning two lifetimes. Of course, this is only slow from the mortal point of view, to the beings that brought this about such a timeframe was less than the blink of an eye might be to us, for their machinations make glaciers seem to move with haste. Oh yes, they lack celerity but in exchange their actions carry the gravity of unquestionable certainty. However, I have indulged myself long enough. It is time that I recount, to the best of my ability the story which is brought you here today…whilst I remain able to do so.

Her mother was possessed of a nearly singular lack of the talent that had been at the disposal to members of her family as far back as records would go. She did retain the gift of foresight. In the hands of anyone else this boon guaranteed an interesting life, if not necessarily a good one. The ability to see the future meant that so much of the world could be bent to your whim, fortunes raised, mistakes avoided, enemies destroyed before they even had the opportunity to transgress. For her mother though the only thing her visions brought was infinite sadness. She was many months pregnant you see. The result of an impetuous liaison with an excitable and impassioned thief several years who junior who quite literally stumbled into her lap, betrayed by his gangly limbs at a luxurious hotel bar he happened to be casing. He must have absconded with a waiter’s uniform for nothing about his outfit fit his exquisitely lanky form properly. Remembering the bowtie that hung limply and sideways from his collar still brings a smile to her face. The knave proclaimed she was the love of his life, his goddess and that he would devote his life to securing her happiness. It was quite a scene the tableau made certainly more…unconventional due to the fact that she was celebrating her first wedding anniversary at and sitting directly across from her husband at the time. Their marriage had been mostly a business arrangement, not entirely loveless but more cordial than intimate, but she thinks she could have grown to love him for the smirk that wound its way across his face after the blubbering young would be waiter realized his presence. She recalls watching the scene like a member of the audience at the theater, her face impassive, one brow raised. Her husband had a reputation for an incredibly violent temper, if you ever witnessed it though but she could never convince herself to entirely discredit the rumors. Both she and the scoundrel were frozen, he in fear, she in surprise. Her husband stood up, declare that their food had been awful and they were taking the waiter as recompense. Her husband, she couldn’t stand the pain that thinking his name brought even all these years later. He had made his fortune as proprietor of the “last heir to the great circuses of old, the man was a showman to his core and could have sold sin to the most pious of people. Sitting in the stands watching that man bewitch everyone around her, she certain she could’ve learned to love him had she been given more time with him. Her brother-in-law put a stop to any happy fantasies she might’ve entertained though, fratricide had a way of casting a pall over such things. Death took him from her, but that night he had been so very alive. He threw the reprobate onto their sumptuous marriage bed and ordered her in a voice that was equal parts chilling and gleeful to fuck him within an inch of his life. She did, hips canting madly as she struggled to match the thief’s exuberance for all he was worth, she was the only thing that grounded him as he shuddered through orgasm after improbable orgasm. His soulful eyes stared up at her as though she had hung the stars. After one particularly fierce climax she turned to look at her husband across the darkened room for all the while he had been orchestrating the performance as though being its sole audience member also burdened him with the role of conductor, she may have been having extraordinary sex but for all that the two of them were just toys for her husband. He controlled them with such precision a note here, a whisper there, advice for the two of them ghosting across the room. He was a master puppeteer, they may have lacked physical strings but that did not stop him. He ruled over them with the same exactness he employed with his beloved elephants, compelling them through routines to astound and amaze basking in the dazzled worship of the onlookers. That night though, he was taking full advantage of being the only onlooker. She still remembers the manic smile on his face and how his hair looked like flame in the moonlight spilling through the window as hysterical (euphoric) laughter echoed off the walls of their manor, as though her husband were the only one in on some wonderfully hilarious joke of cosmic proportions. Looking back on it, he may well have been. Following their final crescendo as her husband’s euphoria slowly waned into giggling, the criminal professed his love for her for the umpteenth time and begged her to come away with him to Florida, promising to dedicate the rest of his days to making her happy. His stirring gaze brimmed with imploring tears he unabashedly let fall from his eyes, his voice quavering beneath the immense wait of his need to keep her in his life. The scales she used to weigh her options were suddenly dashed as her husband took a great gasping breath, sprang up from his seated position in the sumptuous armchair he’d been occupying and began to flit around the room gathering things to him, mania rolling off him in waves. He’d hoisted the nude crook off her with little apparent effort despite being smaller than the rangy younger man. He spun him around and slapped the sex drunk visitor’s bare ass as the man squawked in surprise and indignation, pale globes of flesh flushing an angry shade of red and leaving a print in the form of her husband’s hand at the sting. Her husband crouched for on his haunches for a moment to admire his impromptu work of art. She couldn’t see him but she could clearly picture his eyes growing wide with fascination as the mark took shape, his hands twitched with restrained desire, she could practically feel him warring with the impulse to throw him onto their marriage bed yet again, but this time for the purpose of sowing sharper and deeper blossoms of suffering across the entirety of the canvas that was the other man’s body. Disturbed smile still in place as he ground his teeth he muttered to himself in hushed tones. “No Jer, be a good boy. Almost done now, you can do it. Just gotta ape him. He straightened the conflict within him tucked away beneath the impeccable veneer of the consummate showman’s mask. “Would that I could have joined you crazy kids. I’d have loved to use all my fun little tricks on a tall glass of water like you. I’d have driven you crazy, stark raving mad really, shown you just how wild gingers can get, I’m talking showing you where the animals go.” He said with a grin that was only matched in lascivious by it’s lunacy and air of danger. She was certain the young man with the innocence and coordination of a newborn fawn would not have survived such an encounter He clapped the sex drunk young man on the back, sensually garbed him in a ludicrously expensive silken kimono, handed him a duffel bag of cash as though he had one standing by for just this occasion. That torn expression came over his face yet again, this time he surrendered to his urges. Quite suddenly he brought their lips together with the force of a devouring hunger, grinding his crotch against the other man’s leg. Judging by the surprised sound that issued from their visitor, her husband’s tongue had embarked on an enthusiastic exploration of the other man’s mouth. Then as suddenly as the whirlwind of passion had come, it stilled. He stepped back, a deranged smile lighting up his face. A single thin and determined cord of saliva still bound them together in remembrance of their embrace, her husband broke it with his middle finger, and then brought the digit to the other man’s lips. He sucked on it with a dazed expression for a moment before her husband withdrew with out warning. He clapped him on his back, said in perhaps the most jovial tone a cuckold has ever used with his competitor “I’ve always loved a good fireworks show.” and sent the befuddled young paramour on his way with a wink. The next day her husband left on “family business” to some crime on the east coast submerged seven layers deep in corruption and crime, this business ended in his demise. She remembers looking at him in the casket, smirk fixed in place as though even in death he had gotten the last laugh after all.

That had all been eight months ago exactly. Now here she was at a comfortable cruising altitude of 30,000 feet returning from a sojourn to the place where so many of her sisters had famously died along with innocents and hapless victims of circumstance. She buried her husband in the cesspool city and then communed with nature and the spirits of the sisters who came before her in Salem, now all that was left for her to do was return to her family’s modest estate in Canada and continue puzzling over the odd provision in her husband’s will for any child of hers regardless of whether that child was part of their union or not. The trouble began in earnest on that flight which should’ve been an entirely unremarkable trip from Salem to Halifax. The first unusual occurrence was that her water broke and quite suddenly she was in the process of bringing a life into the world some 2000 stories off the ground suspended in what she’d always considered to be fragile contraptions held aloft by little more than a prayer. Her situation was odd and certainly less than ideal but not unheard of. The flight attendants rushed her to the back of the plane and by what many would like to think was a happy accident there were several members of an obstetrics team present aboard that very flight. The delivery was much more difficult than expected for the culmination of what had been by every reckoning a model pregnancy, with nary an over-enthusiastic kick. Whatever creature was inside of her head suddenly gained the claws of the most wicked of fairytale crones, and the weight of a giant every movement brought only piercing agony and precious little relief. Her screams echoed through the craft that was a dedication to mankind’s hubris as her pain intensified so too did an incredibly unforeseen bout of bad weather, the radar which just hours ago prior to takeoff had promised skies wonderful for flying was now proving itself to be a liar. It was as though passing above some insignificant little town in Maine that caused the storm spring up around them. Their vehicle was buffeted from every direction by winds and frost that were unseasonable even for harsh winter in upper North America. Around her people cursed and prayed, screamed and shouted as the pilots fought to deliver their charges to the ground in the same amount of pieces as they left it, rather than in so many more as was becoming increasingly likely. The town against all sense did have its own infinitesimally small airstrip, it wasn’t until many years later that she would begin to understand just how long ago the pieces had been set in play. As they began their harried descent people were struck by falling luggage and other debris that comes when you compress the lives of hundred people into the space of an aircraft and then turn it into a topsy-turvy. Some were killed, she even took a piece of glass to the jaw but any object that got within striking distance of the newborn child swaddled in a washcloth suddenly lost all momentum and dropped to the floor, this sort of power was most definitely beyond her she had no gift for telekinetics but she was simply too alarmed at the gravity of their situation as Earth’s own gravity began to make its power and its displeasure at having been flaunted known to the passengers. Someone with much more than was at her disposal was looking out for her daughter. And so, their airplane limped down from the sky thoroughly chastened by Zeus and his ilk for its trespass into their domain and Moira and her mother crashed into Castle Rock.

Moira and her mother had always been considered oddities by the town. Two outsiders literally cast out of the heavens and dropped into the midst of unwelcoming townsfolk. Her mother had made the best of the situation, for she had tried, made a very valiant attempt to leave this town but the moment that she crossed the boundaries she was wrapped in agony which would not abate until she took a step back into the town, this phenomenon persisted whether she tried by car or on foot and she refused to give air travel another attempt. She was no fool, she knew well that some incredible force was bent on keeping her and her daughter entrapped in this little nothing of a hamlet. She may not have had the gifts that her family had taken for granted but anyone could make rituals work with enough determination, she used her dead husband’s well to secure a small cottage on the outskirts of town for her daughter and set about turning it into a mystic fortress brimming with occult defenses. Oh the villagers looked at her askance when she went asking strange herbs or when rumors, true in this case, swirled about that she desecrated graves looking for bones or danced in the moonlight bared skin flashing as she circled her home and chanted in forgotten tongues. Castle Rock had a history with which is in their neighbor town of Salem’s Lot you see, they knew the signs even if many had forgotten precisely what they meant. When her mother realized she was potentially in the territory of other practitioners her theory became that a powerful coven existed here and they wanted her for as of yet unknown reasons, but the more she doubt the more it seemed that any true coven had long since died out or moved on to more fitting pastures. The occult in community the town consisted of one or two charlatans, and a few like herself with barely an iota of true power between them, capable of little more than the simplest cantrips, certainly not the massive feats of magic required to both down and trap her here. The first night she performed a ritual of crying beseeching a cracked bowl she’d stolen from the motel to connect her with her mother. Her family had always been a nest of vipers they were immune to their own poison but that did not stop the backstabbing that took place as soon as one was no longer able to defend oneself. Her mother made it clear imperious tones bringing out into the forest and stirring the leaves although in truth she was many miles away, that by allowing herself to be brought low and trapped in a backwater with even a lesser one of her families grimoires by unknown parties she had shamed the family and would be forgotten. They would not come to her aid. Cast out of the one coven she had known since birth she went about forming a tighter knit one as its replacement. She had asked the two charlatans out of town and gathered those with inklings of true power to her, she lacked her family’s innate command of the mystic arts, but her deficit had made her a master ritualist. And so she doled out their precious secrets to a few peasants in this town and made herself a new family. With helpers at her disposal she was able to enact more complex magic and had soon carved out a niche for herself and her followers as the area’s sole authority on matters of the arcane. People flocked to see her from all corners of the continent and a few from even further. She didn’t doubt that her mother, the rest of her family and their retainers were trying their best to end her life but as the years went by it occurred to her that whatever was keeping her here was also keeping her alive, the town seemed to repel anything more than passing outside influences and her family feared to enter its boundaries and become trapped themselves, better to let whatever invisible enemy had brought her there finish her off eventually. Their judgment proved correct.

Moira was an unusual soul, daughter of the town witch and perpetually mistrusted. Despite all that she had a sunny demeanor and those that matter couldn’t help but be charmed by her. For as long as she could remember her mother had forced her, even as a barely aware child to partake in odd rituals, from filling purple gossamer bags of strange herbs sends unknown objects and placing them in various spots throughout the house to keeping a bowl of water by the door and flicking a drop against the wood once it was shut to bathing in oils and strange concoctions by the light of the moon. She did all this because as she told Moira “Something was out to get them.” Moira always found it odd that her mother chose to say something as opposed to someone. Moira had always dreamed of being a doctor but her mother forbid her to leave town for any reason and although she could not explain why to herself even after all these years she’d never even thought of disobeying that particular rule. Her few friends in town and her mother concurred that she would’ve made a brilliant doctor but in a town like Castle Rock the closest she could manage was to be a nursing assistant at the local prison. Some days she bemoaned her life stuck in this little town, so small that it did not even merit a dot on most maps of the area. But she would gather up her natural cheer, take her sketchpad and pencil, sit in the park and draw on those days. Since Moira began drawing she’d been a prodigy, but even from earliest childhood when one has no attention span to speak of after she would dally with the subject and that she would return always to her first. A pair of haunting blue-green eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and your whispering pair of lips, cracked and dry, parched even to the drawings one got the impression that no words passed between them for a long time. The drawings of course worried her mother but try as she might she could puzzle out no theories as to their significance, the last time she’d tried describing ritual on the mysterious subject her bowl had been gripped by a powerful kinetic force shattered from the inside out embedding pieces of cheap ceramic into the wall around her and a few into her body as water that had been cool and tranquil moments earlier became scalding and improbably rose up to splash her in the face. It was then she decided that the drawings were out of her power.

Whenever she was outside of her house Moira always felt the faintest buzzing against her skull, the local doctor had considered it a prodromal symptom of a migraine, but the element never progressed beyond an irritating sound. Until the day she disobeyed one of her mother’s rules. She always looked forward to Fridays, it meant that she have the weekend to draw, but more importantly she would get to see Adrian. Adrian she suspected, that been an enigma from the moment he was born. A Scandinavian street rat with far too much charm and intelligence for his own good and somehow grifted his way across the Atlantic and ended up in her life riding a steed of criminal charges for allegedly attempting to traffic young women across the border. Adrian claimed he had been trying to rescue them and the promised jury of his “peers” such as it was appeared to have bought that story, but Adrian could sell water to a drowning man. Even Moira was unsure what the truth of the matter was. Still Adrian was a charmer, and incorrigible flirt and she had fun bantering with him, although when she asked about his plans his thoughts always turned to getting out and making enough money to support his little boy. About a month ago, Adrian had complained of awful whispering noises splitting his skull during the day while Moira was not on shift. She walked into his cell the later at the start of the graveyard shift and found him sitting as though he were a wounded lion whose legs had been caught in a trap, through his quick pained breaths he greeted her in a melodious accent that was related to but unlike Adrian’s own. She saw that his legs were twisted, broken and fractured at various intervals as though someone had taken a chisel up and down the length of bone within his limbs. No one at the prison could explain the origin of his injuries and beyond a cursory visit from the institution’s uncaring physician no one tried to. As long as word did not escape these walls no one cared, Moira had thought about telling but who was there to tell? How did one even begin to do that? She’d never even left this town once in her twenty-something years. He been an able-bodied, athletic young man at lights out, and had awoken as…

“A cripple! I am but a poor humble cripple and I throw myself on your mercy, my dear sweet Moria. How must I abase myself before you to obtain another of these wonderful puddings? I am willing to do quite a lot, to serve…no that’s not quite the right word, oh your language is so silly…Service! I am willing to service you in oh so many ways!” He said in his singsong voice, appearing quite proud of himself for hunting down his lexical quarry. He he had used the provided spoon merely an implement to tear the thin film of plastic keeping him from his prize, flung it away and for lack of a better descriptor… began preforming cunnilingus on the pudding pouch in his hand, his performance was complete with moans and groans and little contented sighs. All the while never breaking eye contact with her, blue orbs burning into her own filled with indecent proposals. Unwilling to tolerate his antics anymore she snatched the offending pudding cup from his grasp, for the shadow of an instant she could have sworn a terrible look of feral rage had flashed across his countenance but it was gone before Moira could register whether or not it ever truly been there. “I am so terribly sorry dear Moira for my offense, it is just that in my day, we did not have such…culinary delights. He’d slowed to get the word “culinary” out properly but hadn’t stumbled and looked satisfied. In his day, that was the other thing, in the month since Adrian awoken the entire prison wailing about whispering in his cell, according to the doctors he developed a dis-associative identity. The young man that now occupied the cell which officially belonged to Adrian, called himself Ivar Lothbrok. He had been doing his best to convince Moira that he was the spirit of a long dead Viking who had for reasons unknown even to himself woken up in a body that was so similar to his own that it had frightened even him. The prison psychiatrist couldn’t have cared less about the situation in that cell, but to Moira it was quite the engaging mystery.

Today Moira decided to challenge him. “If you really aren’t Adrian, prove it if you’re not him then your innocent of the crimes that got him put in here and you should be angry, you should want out.” The smile that split the face in front of her should have been a warning. “I may be innocent of his petty crime dealing in flesh and weird…potions,” Moira decided to let the odd word choice go to spare his pride. “But I have killed and maimed, and lied, and stolen, and coveted many times over. You’re correct though, I do want out of the cell but for the moment I’m right where I want to be.” Moira, ever quizzical couldn’t stop herself from asking “Why do you want to be here?” “Because here is where you are.” he said as if he were speaking to the dullest child in all the world. “I will indulge you however, I am not Adrian, Adrian had pure wholesome thoughts about you, he was going to be free, tell you that he wanted you to be his little boy’s mother, beg you to start a family and run away with him to whatever little speck of a town he found someone foolish enough to care for the child while he was here. He’d have trafficked poison and flesh slaves or slaughtered swine for the rest of his days for you. He used to touch himself here in the dark fantasize about reaching through the bars of the cage and touching your skin, used to dream of having pure loving sex with you on a blanket by fjords illuminated only by the stars and the moon, lest he seemed to greedy to want to see you in all your glory. He wanted to fill your cunt with his seed over any over until the two of you made a brother or sister for precious little Patrick. One big happy family.” He spat out the infant’s name like a curse most vile, and treated the world family as though it was unconscionable poison on his tongue. She took a breath intending to halt whatever sick game he was playing, but the moment she drew breath and opened her mouth his eyes blazed with danger. “Keep your tongue behind your teeth if you wish to keep it all wench!” He roared. “You asked for this, now you will listen. I am not Adrian because never in his wildest dreams would he have contemplated the fantasy of using your uniform to tie you down and spitting on your face over and over forcing you to swallow what you could, and what you couldn’t would slide down between those perfect breasts of yours and they would glisten as I played with them, sucked and bit until they were raw, then I would have kept spitting until your cunt was drenched from the inside out, I would have laid siege to it like it was my traitor brother’s last stronghold. Oh, the sounds and squeals I would have pulled from you. I would have lavished you with my tongue and fingers, bit and sucked and twisted and slapped and pulled and made you come over and over again until you understood what it is to be ravished by a god!” He broke off into a fit of chuckling then capped with a wistful sigh. “But alas all that is denied to me, and indeed you, for you belong to someone else, and as sweet as you would be, you are not worth the effort of challenging his claim.” He stated this with such nonchalance that it broke the terrible spell that she had been under and she fled the prison with eyes burning and tears streaming.

Ivar smiled as she fled, finally, finally. he was one step closer to being free of this accursed in-between place, he was getting home to his beloved Eira and their little girl. Or perhaps another sojourn through life with his healer who had the body of a tower. Or maybe he’d meet that lippy little puppy of an entitled young man in Pennsylvania again who secretly craved discipline. Whatever happened he would be home again, nothing would stop him.

In her haste, she entered her home, ran to her bedroom and threw herself down on the bed without observing her mother’s rules. Had she been paying more attention she would’ve noticed that the water in the bowl she was supposed to flick at the door suddenly evaporated and the gossamer bags filled with protective elements suddenly caught flame and turned to ash in moments. It was then that she heard his voice. “Please don’t cry. I’m here now, it’ll be alright.” His tone was nearly plaintive. She didn’t bother setting up she knew that the voice came from no place within her home. “I’ve been waiting…eternities for you Moria,” He whispered inside her skull. “Let me make you feel better.” There was a hand stroking her face. Her eyes shot open and she beheld a figure that was both present and absent, there was wait to him but light seemed to pass through him through him as though he was merely a projection. Even trapped in the in between as he was, he was gorgeous. Her angel. A completely bare towering figure with the chest and leg and back and ass seemingly having been sculpted from the highest quality marble by da Vinci himself, with cheekbones that could reduce adamantine diamonds to dust, with lustrous hair and sinfully plump and pillowy lips. His eyes, so soulful that she believed he had lived a thousand lifetimes, she realized she’d been drawing this face for as long as she could remember. To feel his touch was to experience euphoria. He kissed her and all her senses were expanded beyond human potential, she saw a kaleidoscope of colors behind her eyes, he smelled and tasted of every single enticing thing at once but instead of a riotous discord of scents and flavors, they were balanced in perfect harmony. His voice alone could reduce her bones to jelly in a way that would make Ivar fear she intended to stake a claim to his epithet. He worshiped her with his entire being, fingers and hands and tongue and colossal endowment yes, but in the midst of their lovemaking she was certain that their spirits were melding even more intensely than their bodies. He spat upon her face one and she felt as though she were being anointed in holy oil by a deity. He scored her flesh with his sharp straight teeth the color of shining bone, drew blood, and she was happy to give it. His enormous hand encircled her throat closed her airway and if she hadn’t already been experiencing what she thought might be Nirvana, the oxygen deprivation would’ve taken her there. After fucking her through more than 20 orgasms and claiming all her orifices for his own each first with the gentle fervor of a virginal lover at the end of an idyllic courtship and then with a harsh brutality as though fucking her two within an inch of her life was the only way he could properly express the hatred for her that filled his entire alien being. He finally unburdened himself of his seed deep inside her and sighed contentedly .

When she awoke after their tryst, he was seated in a chair opposite her bed dressed in a suit and other finery looking for all the world like a high-powered professional instead of some cosmic entity to take an interest in her. He then told her of the tragedy of Henry Deaver, how a Titanic battle with his wife over his infidelity with a young woman he had met at a business engagement led to him driving fueled by rage and sadness while rain pounded the car and obscured his vision, he’d crashed into the lake and been thrown into a myriad of alternate realities, “other heres and nows where the dominos fell in different patterns. His stories of lives spent with Charlotte, Oliver, Westly, as a professor, a soldier from West Virginia, a bounty hunter who fought for his life in a dystopia, the life he’d almost lived of a Viking, a philanderer with a beer-based pick-up strategy, a gangster, the searching for true love based on a scientific assessment ,they all brought tears to her eyes. He entreated her with every fiber of his being to free him from his cage and put an end to his cycle of loneliness, to save him and others trapped in this limbo. She swore to do it.

That was the day the matriarch without a clan descended on the prison, her chariot of choice, a limousine flanked by a motorcade of four SUVs each bearing the insignia of an elite private security firm denigrated the world over for unsavory activities, their detractors though couldn’t question their effectiveness. She and the battalion she paid for advanced through the prison like a storm, the guards normally employed were deferential and out of their depth. The only sounds echoing through the prison with a click of her heels and the thuds of the jackboots that accompanied her for she had brought silence to the prison with her mere presence. Moira had heard of her, the interim controller of a ludicrously wealthy and secretive biotech firm following the scandalous disappearance of her son and heir. Allegedly, the young man whom the newspapers referred to as the Brat Prince had somehow veered off the course of normally accepted philandering ways among the ultrarich and powerful and become involved with someone his mother deemed unacceptable. The matriarch had come because the vast network of informants that she plied with riches and sharp promises had imparted to her knowledge of a prisoner found here who almost matched her son’s description. The only thing he had left behind was a wheelchair covered in the blood of its owner, a crippled faggot whom he had dared to take for a lover. He would pay for his insolence, for the damage down to her reputation and company, she would break this mysterious prisoner and learn all that he knew, she swore it. When she reached his unusual cell a young woman in scrubs was fumbling with the keys, her son’s face taken on a different path through destiny than the one she knew stared back at her. He spoke to her in an antiquated dialect of that language from the Balkans she had left behind so many mortal lifetimes ago, she was not that frightened, trusting girl from Wallachia anymore, she nearly charged the cage to make him pay for daring to address her this way, but the meaning of his words stilled her. “Madame Olivia, I believe we can be of help to one another once this insect has served its purpose.” Moria broke the lock.

He nuzzled into her touch aching a contented sound as she ran her hands through his hair, it had been eons since he felt the touch of another, his eyelashes fluttered and tears swam in his eyes, he would allow himself this one indulgence. “Loyal Moria, you have played your part well and in appreciation I give you the greatest of gifts, the fulfillment of your destiny.” When he spoke it was with the voice of 100 different people at once both cacophonous and whisper quiet. She screamed as his lips brushed her forehead, for this feather-light touch broke everything inside of her all at once. She fell as her skin froze and burned all at once, her muscles liquefied and her bones turned to jelly, her ears, nose, and eyes ran with blood, then her eyes began to boil in their sockets fluids running down into her still shrieking mouth as her body contorted it this way and that trying desperately to contend with suffering that was beyond human comprehension.

The last thing she saw before death mercifully claimed her were a pair of unveiled eyes atop bloodless lips, her final sight was one she had been drawing her entire life.

As the wretch finally had the good sense to expire Olivia Godfrey watched as the death seemed to fill out the prisoner’s gaunt and wan features until she could almost confuse him for an older version of her son. He drew in a deep breath, stooped to kiss her hand and issued a request, eyes glittering with dark promise: “Take me to Derry.”

#Bill Skarsgård #fic #roman godfrey #ivar the boneless #henry deaver #Mickey #axel cluney

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