#might be my last in colorado for a while!

[franksinatraisdead]

havin a show :)

[zegrasdrysdale]

Wyatt Johnston request!!

Y/n giving Wyatt some birthday "fun" celebrations after Wyatt was on a hatty watch and for winning game 4 on his birthday....smut included please

[ it’s supposed to be fun turning 21 ] w. johnston

paring : Wyatt Johnston x fem!reader

summary : the boys take Wyatt out after the game 4 win for his 21st birthday. Wyatt’s girlfriend goes with him but she has her own celebration plans in store for Wyatt that might not be able to wait until they get back to the hotel

warning(s) : smut ! oral (m receiving), drunk sex, semi public sex, bathroom sex, p in v unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), alcohol consumption and drunkenness

author’s note : got these two requests and i decided to combine them since they were so similar :)) enjoy bc i very much got carried away (pls pretend i posted this around wyatt’s birthday bc it’s sooo late but i started writing it on his birthday )

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She knew before his first goal that it was a special game since it's the night before Wyatt's 21st birthday. She's been waiting months for this night since she turned 21 in December. It makes tonight even better that Dallas is playing in game four of the second round of the playoffs too.

Wyatt scores again in the second period and she is on her feet for the rest of the game just in case he gets the hatty. It would be the perfect way to end being 20. He gives the puck to Steel on an empty net attempt though and that’s the end of his last game at 20 years old.

That’s Wyatt. He could’ve had a hat trick in his last game as a 20 year old but he let Sam have his first goal of the playoffs instead. So selfless. That’s her boyfriend though and it’s one of the reasons she loves him.

She goes back to the hotel where the Stars are staying to wait for Wyatt. It’s not quite midnight in Colorado so they have to wait a little bit before taking Wyatt out.

She changes out of her borrowed stolen Stars jersey into something a little more bar friendly. The Stars jersey and leggings turns into a skintight black mini dress with thin straps and heels. The dress accentuates her curves and pushes her breasts up. She pulls out the double French braids that she had in to make her hair naturally wavy then touches up her makeup.

A key is used in the door and it’s pushes open about 30 minutes after she gets back to the hotel. She peeks her head out of the bathroom and watches Wyatt walk into the room. He isn’t alone. Pavs, Tyler, Jamie, Roope, Miro and Logan walk in with him. She smiles and walks out of the bathroom.

“Hi, handsome,” she says to get Wyatt’s attention. “Nice goals tonight.”

Wyatt looks up from his phone and smiles when he sees his girlfriend. “Like what you saw, pretty girl?” he asks as she approaches him.

“I’ve very much enjoyed all seven of your playoff goals this season,” she laughs. “And three last season. Good job at scoring ten playoff goals before turning 21.”

One of his hands falls to her waist and he pulls her flush against him before crashing their lips together. His other hand rests on her lower back and he dips her backward a bit. She smiles and cups his jaw with both her hands.

The kiss heats up and for a second, she forgets that six other people are in the room. It’s not until one of said other people clears his throat that she remembers that they’re not alone.

Wyatt breaks the kiss and looks at his teammates. She turns her own head to look at the other hockey players in the room.

“The six of you insisted that you come back to my room with me knowing she was here and I scored two goals tonight while also being the eighth player in NHL history to score 10 playoff goals before turning 21,” he says. “I apologize for getting a little carried away.”

“A little?” Tyler asks. “You were trying to eat her face, Johnny.” She giggles at Tyler’s comment and looks up at Wyatt. He stands her back up but doesn’t let her go.

Her boyfriend rolls his eyes and asks, “What time are we going out and who else is coming? There’s no way that it is just the six of you taking me out tonight. Not after the win.”

Jamie, who was typing away on his phone, says, “All the guys that can legally drink are coming, which I’m pretty sure it’s everyone once the clock strikes midnight in an hour.” The Stars captain looks at her. “You’re 21, right?”

“Turned 21 in December,” she explains.

“Good,” Jamie replies. “We leave at quarter of twelve so we are at the bar by midnight to buy Johnny here his first legal drink. I’m giving Pavs that honor, but I’m buying his second drink as his captain.”

The guys laugh then begin fighting over who else is going to buy Wyatt a drink. All she got from the entire argument is that Wyatt is going to get very drunk tonight and will be very hungover when they wake up for their early afternoon flight back to Dallas tomorrow.

In the forty minutes between when Wyatt got back to the room and when they leave, more Stars players make their way into the hotel room after showering or eating something. It’s not a very big room and there are nearly 20 grown men standing around. She spends the entire time in Wyatt’s arms or sitting on his lap to save some space.

At quarter of twelve, she and the Stars leave the hotel in the van that they all pitched in to rent so they don’t take the team bus to the bar. Pavs is the designated driver so they can make it back in one piece. Ten minutes later, the van arrives at a bar in downtown Denver.

Considering it’s a Monday night in the middle of May, the bar is very crowded. Maybe it’s people who went out to watch the game or maybe it’s people that decided to just go drinking on a Monday night. Either way, it’s very crowded and the music is loud. ESPN is on multiple TVs so the game was on at some point. Their group gets stared at as they find a large high top table to sit at.

Wyatt sits at the head of the table. She sits on one side of him and Pavs sits across from her. Tyler sits on the other side of her and Jamie is on the other side of Pavs.

A waitress walks up to the table with her pad and says, “I guess you’re all here to celebrate your win. I guess you’re also here for his birthday.” She nods at Wyatt. “You guys still have like three minutes before I can legally serve him a drink.”

Jamie speaks up. “Well, by the time the drinks get to the table, it’ll be midnight and he’ll be 21,” he comments.

“Touché,” she replies with a smile. “What can I get you guys?”

They go around the table and order their drinks. Pavs orders for Wyatt since technically, it’s not midnight yet and he can’t order his own drink. He’s got two minutes before he can do that. IDs are checked, including Wyatt’s to make sure he isn’t lying about turning 21 in a minute.

Then she’s off with their drink orders. Pavs has the first round.

Tyler is the first to acknowledge when the clock strikes midnight. He lets the entire bar know when he screams, “He’s 21!” Hoots, hollers, and happy birthdays sound from around the table. Wyatt turns a bright shade of red but has a huge smile on his face as he thanks his teammates.

She smiles at her birthday boy. Wyatt eventually looks at her. “Happy birthday, baby,” she says to him.

“Thank you, my pretty girl,” Wyatt replies.

She hops out of her seat so she can give Wyatt a hug. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and she pecks his jaw. “We have a lot to celebrate tonight,” she mumbles against his ear. “Just so you know.”

He looks down at her with a grin on his face. “I can’t wait.”

Their drinks all arrive about two minutes later. The guys all hold their drinks up and Jamie makes a little toast.

“To Wyatt Johnston’s 21st birthday,” he says. “He is just getting started. That being said, here’s to us going up in the series and being one game away from moving onto the next round. Let’s win it on Wednesday and make it to the Western Conference finals for the second year in a row.”

The boys cheers their drinks and take a sip. Wyatt downs his in a few chugs. Some of the guys are impressed and others are surprised. She gives Wyatt a knowing look so he can relax because it’s so obvious that he’s had drinks before.

Jamie orders a round of shots, and everyone orders their favorite shot. Tyler gets the round of drinks after that and everyone is two drinks and a shot deep already. They’ve been at the bar for maybe fifteen minutes, ten of those where Wyatt has been legal.

A couple of the single guys go and try to find a girl for the night, but it’s rough being a Dallas Star in Avalanche territory. She just laughs at their attempts as the alcohol she has been drinking begins to run through her veins.

An hour later, things are spinning even though she’s in a chair. She’s had four drinks and five shots. All were very strong and she doesn’t have the highest tolerance. Wyatt has a higher tolerance, or maybe it’s because he’s several inches taller than her and weighs more than she does.

Wyatt excuses himself to go get a drink at the bar. Her eyes linger on him as he weaves his way through the crowd to get his drink. She sips her drink as her eyes fall to his ass. It looks good in the dress pants he never got out of when he got back to the hotel after the game. The button up he’s wearing hugs his arms in the right places as he leans against the bar.

She crosses her legs as she imagines both articles of clothing on their hotel room floor while they celebrate the win and his birthday.

Suddenly, she isn’t sure if she’ll make it back to the hotel. The room gets hot very quickly and she presses her lips in a line. Her mind betrays her despite every attempt to stop thinking about her plans for when they leave the bar in a few hours.

He comes back with a handful of drinks for the table, including another drink for her since she was almost finished her drink when he walked away. Wyatt hands her the glass and her eyes focus on his hand around it. All she can think about is his fingers in her hair while his dick is in her mouth.

She really cannot stop thinking about Wyatt fucking her and she’s had enough. She needs him. Now. Not in a few hours when they leave.

“Wy,” she says to get his attention. He hums as he sips his new drink. “Wyatt.” He finally puts his glass down and looks at her. She glances around the table. “I, um … need to use the bathroom. Can you show me where it is?”

“It’s back there,” Wyatt replies as he points over his right shoulder. “Big neon sign that says ‘restroom’. Can’t miss it.”

With a pout, she tries again. This time with intention in her voice. “Wyatt,” she sternly says. “Please come with me to the bathroom because there are so many people here right now and I don’t want to go alone.”

Wyatt turns his full attention to her and she raises her eyebrows. A lightbulb goes off in his head and he gets up from his seat. “Right, okay,” he stammers. “Let’s go.”

Happy that he finally got the idea, she hops down from her seat at the table and takes the hand that Wyatt offers her. Neither of them says a word to anyone at the table. They just walk toward the bathroom.

Luckily, it’s a single stall bathroom with a lock on the door. She checks her surroundings to make sure no one is looking before dragging Wyatt into the ladies room behind her.

She presses Wyatt against the door to shut it and clicks the lock so no one walks in. Wyatt takes her face in his hands and crashes their lips together in a heated kiss. He ravishes her mouth with his and it only makes things worse for her. She whines into his mouth and he swallows the sound.

It’s probably because she’s drunk, but she’s very turned on right now. With every kiss, she feels the need to cross her legs just for some pressure on her core.

Her fingers trail down his chest and torso until they land on the belt around Wyatt’s waist. Without looking, she undoes the clasp and unbuttons his pants. Wyatt groans when her hand slides into his boxers and wraps her hand around his hardening dick. With a flick of her wrist, she begins to pump his cock.

Wyatt hums before he breaks the kiss. He rests his forehead against her and pants, “Baby, I cannot come in these pants because I don’t know how much longer we will be out for and I don’t want to sit around with come in my pants.”

“No one said anything about coming in pants,” she says. Wyatt is about to say something but she drops to her knees on the tile floor of the bathroom before he could get a word out. It’s probably cleaner than the men’s bathroom floor but it’s still a bathroom floor.

She pulls his pants and boxers down until they pool at his ankles. His cock springs free and nearly hits her in the face. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth as she takes him in her hand. Wyatt leans back against the door and mumbles something under his breath.

After a few slow pumps, she wraps her lips around the leaking tip. Wyatt’s fingers slide into her hair and he grips her locks very lightly as she takes him in her mouth. She is careful not to choke herself on his dick so she has to use her hand to make up some of what doesn’t fit in her mouth.

Wyatt lets out soft pants as she begins to suck him. The back of his head softly hit the door and he looks down at her with his eyes. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Never thought that I would see you on your knees for me in a bar bathroom.”

She pulls off of him and wipes away some saliva that has started to roll down her chin. “I would get on my knees for you literally anywhere,” she admits. Wyatt smiles and she wraps her lips around him again with a wink.

Soft pants pass Wyatt’s lips the closer he gets to his orgasm. His fingers run through her hair and she hums around him. One hand rests at the base of his dick and the other rests in his thigh above his knee to keep herself steady.

Heat pools at her core the longer she stays on her knees. She can only imagine what she looks like on her knees on the bathroom floor of a bar. Her knees do begin to hurt from the tile floor at some point but she tries to pay no mind to the pain.

She occasionally flicks her wrist to pump what she can’t fit in her mouth. Her cheeks hollow out as she sucks since she knows that’s one of Wyatt’s favorite things. It causes a moan to pass Wyatt’s lips and he quickly covers his mouth with his hand in case anyone is outside the door.

The only time she alerts Wyatt to the fact that her knees hurt is when she shifts her weight and winces around his dick.

He looks down at her and asks, “Do your knees hurt?” She nods in response. “Come here, baby.” She pulls off his dick with a soft pop and slowly gets to her feet. Wyatt has her by the waist so she doesn’t stumble and fall.

When she’s fully on her feet and finds her balance, Wyatt leans down and kisses her deeply. His tongue parts her lips and she hums. Her hands find his hair and his hands slide down to her butt. Wyatt squeezes once then picks her up by the back of her thighs.

She squeals in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck. Wyatt sets her down on the counter next to the sink. She leans against the mirror behind her but keeps her arms wrapped around his neck.

Wyatt smiles at her and wraps his pointer fingers into the thin straps of her dress. He’s always been a boob guy so this doesn’t surprise her at all. He leans into her and presses light kisses to her breasts. He gropes one while he gives attention to the other, then alternates. Moans pass her lips and she leans her head back against the mirror.

“Wyatt,” she whines. “I need you. Please, baby.”

He snaps his head up when she talks. “Oh, you’re so nerdy that you want me to fuck you in a bar bathroom,” he comments with a sly smirk on his face. “Being legal is great.”

She pushes his shoulder. “Wyatt Johnston, fuck me before I go find one of your single teammates who wouldn’t hesitate,” she blurts out. “Quit yapping.”

With a laugh, he pushes the bottom of her already short skirt over her butt so the entire dress sits around just her waist. “You’re all mine, pretty girl,” Wyatt tells her. “Your threat is nothing more than a bark. I fuck you too good for you to go find someone else.”

She rolls her eyes because she knows he’s right. She’ll always come back to him, no matter what.

He pushes her black lace panties over and she presses her lips into a line. She shivers when the cool air hits her wet core. She kicks off her shoes and puts one of her heels on the counter so Wyatt has easy access because her legs have already fallen apart.

Wyatt leans into her and catches her lips in a deep kiss. She gasps against his lips when she feels him run his tip through her soaked folds. She grips the collar of his shirt as he pushes into her. "God, Wyatt," she mumbles. "Fuck."

He nips at her bottom lip as he slowly pushes himself into her. Her legs begin to shake with anticipation as Wyatt deepens the kiss and bottoms out in her at the same time. She hums and Wyatt swallows the noise.

After a second or waiting so she can adjust to him, Wyatt begins to roll his hips against hers. She cries out and he nips at her bottom lip. “Baby, you have to be quiet,” he reminds her. “Anyone could walk by and hear you.”

She nods in response and pulls back so she can look at her boyfriend. Wyatt’s lips are swollen and kiss bruised. His eyes are dark with lust and hazy from the alcohol he has been drinking over the last few hours. His hair is a mess from her running her fingers through it. He’s so pretty and so disheveled at the same time.

He splays his hands on either side of her on the counter to keep his balance. She keeps her arms around his neck so she doesn’t fall off the counter.

If anyone would catch her falling off a counter because of sex, it’s Wyatt. Wyatt would be the one to catch her.

His speed picks up after a minute and he move as deep into her as he can at this angle. She has to bite her lip to keep herself from getting too loud in case anyone walks by the bathroom or comes knocking. Wyatt lets out soft pants as he moves. A layer of sweat forms on both of them since it’s so hot in the tiny room.

One of Wyatt’s hands eventually slithers down between them and he find her clit. She cries out but Wyatt quiets her with a kiss. He plays with the little bundle of nerves and her entire body shakes as she tries to delay her own orgasm.

“Wyatt,” she groans against his mouth. “Wyatt, baby.”

“I have you,” he tells her between kisses. “Let go. I can feel you clenching so I know you want to come for me.”

His pace slows but he continues to slam into her every time he thrusts. She hums and feels the knot in her stomach threaten to come undone.

Wyatt flicks her clit and she comes with a squeal since she can’t shout. She feels her entire body clench around him. He pulls out of her quickly and comes all over her thighs and core. She pulls him in for messy kisses as they come down from their highs. Wyatt slouches against her and she slouches against the mirror. The kisses are hot and open-mouthed as they recover.

The kisses slow and she smiles against his lips. Wyatt pulls back and looks at her. She can only imagine what they look like right now. Sweaty, half naked, and blissed out in a bar bathroom. Come is rolling down her thighs.

“God, I love you,” Wyatt tells her.

“Oh, now you tell me after we fucked in a bar bathroom on your birthday and your come is all over my thighs,” she teases with a smile on her face. Wyatt laughs. “I love you too. Let me go pee and clean myself up if you love me though.”

He pecks her lips one more time before she reaches over and grabs a handful of paper towels to clean her legs. She fixes her dress when Wyatt helps her down then goes to pee because she’s not catching a UTI from having sex in a public bathroom. He cleans up the counter and uses the hand soap to wash it down.

When she’s done peeing, she helps Wyatt fix his shirt. She fixes his hair before fixing her hair. She can’t do a thing about the marks on her knees from the tile floor so she knows that if someone sees them, she’s gonna get teased for it and Wyatt will never hear the end of his from his teammates.

After they decide they’re decent enough, they sneak out of the bathroom.

Music still blares from every corner of the bar when they make their way back to the table. They take their seats and sip their drinks like they didn’t just fuck in the bathroom.

Unfortunately, someone did notice they left.

Logan leans on the table between them. “So, wanna tell me which bathroom you two got freaky in so I know if I have to wait to pee or not?” he asks.

“Shut up,” Wyatt retorts. “It’s supposed to be fun turning 21 so I’m gonna have the time of my life tonight. Also, it’s not my fault that my girlfriend is hot.”

He shudders and Tyler laughs. “You two are insane,” he comments. “Risky considering you’re a NHL player, Johnny.”

“I’d take a thousand risks for her,” Wyatt says. “End of story.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna be attending a wedding next year,” Jamie says after he swallows a sip of his drink. “Two years tops.”

She smiles behind her glass because she knows Wyatt is planning to propose at some point. She has no idea when but maybe Jamie isn’t wrong about the two years tops.

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MASTERLIST

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[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 19 🍒

"Hungry Heart"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 6,022

Summary: Going to Jackson for a wedding seems like just a friend doing a favor for a friend, but old acquaintances and new attitudes don't always make for a great combination.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place June - December 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of divorce, language, No Smut, mention of infidelity, post-divorce strife, Ellie is kind of a delinquent (will be discussed in next chapter), brief glimpse of lumberjack!Joel, forced proximity, mutual pining (mostly on Joel's side), Joel tries to be an authority figure and Ellie ain't having it

Author's Note: thank you to everyone who's stuck around to read this and been very patient with me! my birthday was last week so there was a lot going on, otherwise I would have had this out earlier. So.. we've got these two together again, but the reunion isn't exactly a happy one..

Series Masterlist

June 2023 San Francisco, CA

It's not until you're seated in a booth at the trendy new sushi bar downtown that you begin to doubt your agreement to meet Sarah while she's in town for a work conference. You'd said yes initially, then waffled about it in the coming weeks, and now you're drinking sake to fortify yourself. Your therapist told you it's a bad idea to mix alcohol with reacquaintances, but you're already refilling the ochoko when you look up for a moment and spy Sarah approaching you through the crowded restaurant.

You've never thought about what she might look like. A part of you imagined that you'd be sitting down to dinner with the same kid from twenty years ago. But Sarah has grown up, in her thirties, a successful attorney. And, from what you gathered by spying on Joel's Facebook account years ago, she's also a mother.

"Thank you for meeting me," she says, embracing you the way women always embrace each other, something you never got used to because of you lack of female friends. She smells like expensive perfume, the kind you spray on yourself at Sephora just for fun, and is dressed in a white maxi dress with blue floral print. She looks amazing, and you silently berate yourself for wearing black distressed jeans, a Rolling Stones tee and your lucky red Converse.

"You're all grown up," you remark, a hint of sadness in your tone.

"You look beautiful," she says in return. "You don't even look like twenty years have passed."

Little does she know you spent forty dollars on a concealer to hide your undereye circles, and were talked into spending another twenty on something called a lip oil that makes your lips sticky and tastes like cheap pineapple, which you wiped away on the restaurant napkin as soon as you sat down.

Settling down to small talk, you neglect to look at your menus, annoying the waitress who stops by to take your order three times and ultimately just comes by to refill your drinks.

Sarah lives out east in Boulder, Colorado, practicing law alongside her fiance Theo. They have a son together, ten year old Finn.

"Theo proposed when I got pregnant," Sarah says. "But I wanted us to build a foundation first, construct our little family. And when the time was right, I proposed to him."

She shows off pictures of Finn, sharing the funny and cute anecdotes that parents do, and when she asks about Ellie you do the same: Ellie in the hospital, just hours old, wearing a tiny knitted pink and blue hat as she glowered at the camera; Ellie at four, playing T-ball, one of just two girls on an all-boys team; Ellie at ten winning the school spelling bee.

Being an Army wife gave you the opportunity to see the world, experience things you otherwise wouldn't. Japan, Germany, Italy.. you were happy that Ellie got to experience them too.

But even that couldn't save your marriage to Justin.

There were infidelities on both sides, and when you found out about his, it was almost a relief to discover he was not Nice Justin, just a man who had affairs. In the midst of your own liaisons, you felt vindicated, though the fun wore off easier than it had in your youth.

Filing for divorce was only difficult considering Ellie. Justin didn't fight it, handing over full custody. It was the only part of the process that broke your heart. Now you were just repeating a history of broken families. Once the divorce was finalized it was like throwing up after being nauseous for so long, just good to get it out of your system.

("I kept my married name, just to piss off the new wife," you tell Sarah, who snickers in response. "That's understandable.")

Settling in San Francisco where you like the neighborhood and the schools, life seems easier.

"Ninth grade history," you answer when Sarah asks what you teach. "I introduce Romeo & Juliet to kids who are the same age as those characters."

And now, with the niceties out of the way, there's nothing left to talk about but the past.

You've been dreading it.

"I never apologized for what I did," she says.

You nod, inviting her to continue.

"You probably know this by now, but I was the one who called your mom."

Of course you knew it all along, but hearing it is a different thing.

She got her number from your phone when you weren't around. And, unable to get the picture of you and her dad out of her mind, she dialed it one day and explained to your mom what she saw.

"Why?" you ask.

She averts her eyes a brief moment. "Deep down I always knew there was something going on with you and my dad.. the day of my party when I walked in on you, it was a rude awakening. It's one thing to know something is going on, and another thing to witness it. And later, when you left, I realized I'd taken it too far."

Sarah goes quiet and so do you, despite the chatter in the busy restaurant.

You ask, "Did Joel ever find out it was you?"

She nods. "I told him later.. after he started seeing that awful girl you were friends with."

That part of your life, the bubble of jealousy and despair in which you made your home, seems so long ago. "Hailey," you remind her.

"Yeah.. she didn't last very long. Dad broke things off when he caught her stealing from him.. and when that happened I realized he was just better off with you. But.. by then it was too late."

By then you were already apart. The damage had been done.

"Was he angry at you for what you did?"

Sarah shrugs. "It was a silent kind of angry. You know how he is. We avoided each other for weeks until it became impossible. And by then.. you were gone."

You take a moment to reflect on your memories of Joel. "How is he?"

She smiles, as if she knew or even hoped you'd ask about him. "He's good. He's in Jackson now. Wyoming. Tommy's there with his new wife.."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. "And, uh.. your stepmom?"

She looks blank for a moment. "You mean Tess? No, they divorced a few years ago. She was nice, it just didn't work out."

You don't know whether to feel sorrow or relief at this fact, but for once you decide to be petty and let the relief take over, hoping he went through a fraction of the pain you endured.

Sarah toys with her salmon roll. "I'm sorry," she says, nodding to herself as if giving herself strength to do it. She looks you in the eye and you catch a glimpse of the girl she used to be. "I'm sorry. For starting everything."

So many times you've imagined what it would be like if you hadn't been found out by anyone else. Would you still have stayed in Austin? Would you and Joel have had more time together?

"It's in the past, right?" You manage a smile, happy that this is out in the open. A part of you feels like a weight is lifted. Things may not have happened the way you wanted, but now you can reconcile the things you can't control anymore.

"This is probably the wrong time to say this," Sarah continues, "but I'd like to invite you and Ellie to my wedding this December, in Jackson. You won't have to worry about airfare or hotels. Theo and I will cover your ticket and.. well, everyone's staying at my dad's. He has a huge house in town, enough for close family. I'd really love it if you would come."

"Justin, you're really fucking me over, do you know that?" you try to speak as quietly as you can into the phone while laying out outfits for the Jackson trip. "Ellie's going to be brokenhearted. You told her you'd have her the entire two weeks."

On the other line Justin sighs, the new, younger Mrs. Williams can be heard in the background. "I promised Svetlana first. We really need this time together," he whispers as well, likely not trying to instigate another argument with his wife.

You have some choice words for Svetlana, but are interrupted when Ellie quietly walks into the room, well aware that the discussion is about her. "I'll call you back."

"Let me guess.." Ellie sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going with Dad for Christmas.."

There's no point in lying to her. She's a sharp kid. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, kiddo. He and your stepmother are taking an extended honeymoon in Malta," you tell her gently.

"You mean Slutlana?"

"What? Ellie, that's rude. Don't say that." You pause. "Don't say that to her face, at least."

She's quiet, and at times like this you regret that she's essentially living the life you lived at fourteen, always wondering when Dad would come back, if he even wanted to spend time with his own child.

"So.. I'm going with you?"

You nod. "Thank god your probation is over. It'd be nice if you paid Marlene a visit, or at least called her," I said, speaking of the parole officer assigned to Ellie after a particular incident. "We should send her some Tiff's Treats or something, she deserves a gift after putting up with your delinquent self." You playfully toss a tee shirt at her.

"Can I say bye to Riley?" she asks, hope evident in her eyes.

"No," you're adamant on this one thing, as lax as you were before the trespassing situation.

"Mom, my probation's over. I'm not gonna get in trouble just for talking to her."

"I don't care. I'm not going by the judge's rules, I'm going by mine." You pause. "You'll just have to come with me to Wyoming."

Sarah had gone to the trouble of sending a beautifully embossed wedding invitation, done in traditional cream and gold, with photos of the two of them as children, as teens, and one gorgeously done couples photo. Theo's cute, and Sarah seems happy with him.

"Boring," Ellie says in response to the wedding festivities. "Why would anyone want to get married?"

You decide not to give her a response. At her age you didn't understand the fuss about weddings either.

Forgoing Sarah's offer of paying for your flight, you rent a Chevrolet Suburban for the drive over.

"You do realize we'll be driving for over fourteen hours, right?" Ellie says, helping you put the suitcases and bags in the roomy luggage hold.

"Yep. I checked it out on Google Maps."

"What happens if you get tired?"

"We'll drive during the day and find a rest stop or a motel at night," you shrug.

"You know.. I could take over the drive sometimes," she offers.

"Okay, kiddo. Why not?"

She brightens. "Really?"

"Absolutely fucking not." With a smile you open the passenger door and she hops in, grumbling,

Only so much music can suffice a long ride, and somewhere outside of Reno, Ellie busts out a dog-eared copy of a book Justin had given her as a gag won the spelling bee.

"Oh no, Ellie, for god's sake, not the puns," you whine dramatically.

"Yes, the puns," she grins. "How else am I supposed to spend my time on this boring-ass road trip?"

"Brace yourself. We've only been on the road less than four hours."

She groans, slumping forward in her seat, revived shortly when she decides to recite every single pun in that damn book, and when you give her that Mom look, she simply grins and tells you, "That's what you get for turning down a plane ticket."

Three days later you arrive. Jackson Hole is picturesque, especially in winter, as it it was just made to be the snowy backdrop on a postcard or a highlight on Instagram.

You turn down the main thoroughfare of the town, a light dusting of snow already falling from the heavens as you peer out the window, frowning in concentration as you try to familiarize yourself with the location. Ellie's buzzing in your ear like a mosquito, singing along to something on the radio. You turn the volume down. "Quiet down, I can't see."

She nearly bursts at the seam with withheld laughter. "You want me to quiet down... because you can't see?" she teases.

"Ellie!" you groan. "We're already late for lunch with the family."

Promising yourself you'll settle in a hotel after what you hope will be a painless reunification with Sarah and the rest of the Millers, you find your destination and drive up a perfectly paved driveway. Joel's house, a craftsman-style facade done in red brick and accented with carved gable peaks, looks exactly like a house Joel would own.

Parking close enough on the curved driveway without blocking in any other cars, you take a moment to rest, stretching your neck and shoulders.

"Should've let me drive," Ellie says from her seat as you both start to disembark.

There's a smart remark on your lips but when you turn to her you're distracted by a figure at the side of the house.

Someone's chopping wood, splitting logs with precision, though not necessarily speed. He's wearing just a white tee shirt, jeans, boots. You let your eyes linger on his physique. Who is that? you wonder.

As if he can hear your thoughts or sense your presence, the figure turns and wipes the sweat off his brow.

You know him in an instant.

Joel.

Your heart feels like it's going into arrhythmia.

"Come on, Ellie," you hurry her up the walk and to the front steps.

"The bags--"

"Fuck the bags." You press the doorbell nervously, willing Sarah or anyone to open quickly.

"You made it!" Sarah practically mauls you as she greets you, giving both you and Ellie a hug.

You're swept inside where it's nice and cozy, the air scented with pine and gingerbread. Christmas garlands are strung over every doorway, along the staircase railing, the windows, and the fireplace.

"Was my dad out there? I told him he needs to start getting ready. I don't want him coming to the luncheon all sweaty," Sarah says.

"What? No. I didn't see anything.. anyone," you stutter.

"I'm happy you're here, because we're actually going to have lunch at the Tipsy Bison instead. It's Tommy's bar, you probably passed it on the way up here."

"Oh, uh.." you're distracted by Ellie precariously sloshing a winter themed snow globe, the thought of Joel is still spinning around in your sleep-deprived brain, and Sarah is still talking to you like you don't look completely zoned out and anxious.

To make things worse, Joel comes in, carrying most of yours and Ellie's luggage. His white tee sticks to his sweaty skin, his face pink with exertion and dewy with sweat, his hair dark with more gray now than ever, and on his beard too. His eyes, those dark depths you've lost yourself in so many times, peer into yours, and for a moment you forget to breathe.

"You left the trunk open," he murmurs, as if it's a quiet admonition, a secret he doesn't want to tell.

"Oh.. thank you. You didn't have to do that." Your nervous glance at him gives your blushing away because you see his face redden as well.

"Dad, can you believe she has a kid now?" Sarah says excitedly.

There's a jolt of fear when you realize father and daughter are going to be in the same room, and neither of them knows it.

"Uh, Ellie, this is Joel Miller. He's, uh, Sarah's dad, and I used to babysit Sarah.. a long time ago.." Being put on the spot, you falter your words.

"Put 'er there, Joel," Ellie says, holding out her hand for him to shake, which Joel does, the start of a tiny smirk on his lips.

"We all lived in Austin together, with your Aunt Sofia. I mean, we didn't live together but we were neighbors," you babble, feeling even more blush creep up your neck. "Way before you were born, kiddo."

Meanwhile Sarah's eyes dart from Ellie to Joel to you, and back again, slower each time, as if she's piecing the puzzle together. Her eyes linger on Ellie, her expression unreadable before settling on you. You quickly glance away.

"Let me take that from you," you motion to the luggage Joel's carrying.

"Nah, I got it. I'll show ya to y'all's rooms." He hefts the suitcases and bags like they're nothing and heads upstairs. You have no choice but to follow him, sneaking a little glance at how his great his ass looks in his jeans.

"Nice place you got here, Joel," Ellie remarks, eyes skyward, surveying the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "Do you always address your elders by their given names?"

"Ellie," you whisper harshly. "Mind your manners."

"Damn, sorry," she mutters back.

"Sorry, Joel. She's--"

"Hey, why do you get to call him Joel?"

"Because I'm an adult," you say under your breath.

"He's older than you. Like, a lot. Like, Grandpa Bob's age."

"Stop it," you say through clenched teeth as Joel clears his throat.

"I can put y'all next door to each other--"

"I call this one!" Ellie claims the first door on the left, grabbing her bags and leaving Joel to lead you a little further down the hall.

"'M afraid this one is right across the hall from mine," he mumbles, leading you inside the comfortably decorated bedroom to set your things down.

"Thank you," you murmur, heart thrumming in your chest. This is the first time you've been alone with him in fifteen years. "You.. have a really beautiful home here, Joel."

He looks around, eyes darting anywhere but yours. "Thank you, that means a lot. Built it myself-- well, with Tommy's help."

"Really?" It's hard to pretend you're not impressed. "Must've been a lot of hard work."

"Yeah, it was. But she's sturdy." Joel gives a sturdy pat to the wall, and you can't help looking at his hand, the way his thick fingers splay out against the dark green wallpaper. Those are fingers that used to find their way inside you, curving just so in order for you to come quickly while his lips and tongue worked in tandem to--

Ellie's voice comes from the other room. "Wow! You guys have cable? Do you have HBO?"

"No Euphoria!" you shout back, scoffing when she quiets again.

There are too many questions on the tip of your tongue, too many things you want to say but not when you're so nervous that your hands are shaking. Staying quiet is easier. More awkward, but easier.

The room fills with unspoken words and missed chances as the two of you shift uneasily, not knowing where to start, not knowing if you should start.

"Didn't know ya had a daughter," he grumbles. "Not 'til Sarah told me."

"Yeah. Ellie's.. precocious."

A ghost of a smile graces Joel's lips as he looks at you and for a moment in time you feel eighteen again.

"How old is she?" he asks.

"She turned fourteen this past spring." God, please don't let him do the math, please don't let him do the math.

Instead he gives a low whistle, wears a teasing smile. "You look good for bein' the mom of a teenager. You still look beauti-- still look the same," he finishes.

You're thirty nine now and in possession of all the complexities that come with your age. There's more gray in your hair than you care to admit (which Ellie tells you not to dye because it "looks cool"), and there are a few more pounds on your person and a few more lines on your face than you're happy with, but his compliment warms you nonetheless.

"You look.. good.. too." Jesus, how did this man age like fine wine? If anything, the past two decades only served to make him hotter. It's unfair.

He takes a step forward, his face determined, lips pursed like he's still calculating his decision. "I.. I wanted to say--"

This time Sarah comes up, dressed for the cold, putting on her gray gloves. "Dad, get in the shower already," she scolds him. "I'm taking her and Ellie to the Tipsy Bison. We'll see you there."

Joel's eyes set on you. "I don't mind takin' them."

You open your mouth to speak, even though you have no idea how to respond. "Honestly, I'll drive me and my daughter. And we can get a room in town."

"No way, Jose." Sarah loops your arm through hers. "You're staying with us and that's final. So, will you let me drive you, or do you want to wait for my dad?"

Waiting for Joel.. it seems you've spent the majority of your youth waiting for him.

"Can we go with Sarah?" Ellie asks, solving the problem for you.

In truth you would have liked a moment to rest, to sleep, to puzzle over the strangeness of the day so far. You're almost a thousand miles from the home you've made after your divorce, under the same roof as the man who changed your life in ways good and bad, harboring a secret from him and his family. Not to mention Ellie's ignorance of her origins.

Sarah herds you and Ellie into the Tipsy Bison, a spacious bar establishment on Main Street, part of the scenery you must have driven by without noticing upon driving into town. Inside is the typical decor you'd expect: neon lights advertising every brand of beer and alcohol you can imagine, taxidermy mounts of bears, bucks, and elk. Pool tables are at the far left, dartboards to the right, a couple of foosball tables as well. There's a stage beyond the pool tables, ready for a band or DJ, a makeshift dance floor in front of it, and colored lights remain still overhead, their brightness dulled and stilled by the daytime.

There's a homey, cozy feeling as you glance around. The bar spreads along the far side beyond a range of tables and booths, boasting a wide variety of booze. Working behind the bar is a face you haven't seen in awhile: Tommy.

He comes out to greet you, his smile and bright and joyful as you've always known him to be, and part of you feels guilty that the last time you were together you'd been drunk, making out next to his truck, after meeting in a bar just like this one.

"Hey you!" He envelops you in a tight hug, and you start to feel better. Bygones are certainly bygones in his case.

"Tommy, it's good to see you again," you smile, pulling away to get a good look at him. "You've hardly aged. What's with you Millers, are you all vampires or something?" You cast a playful look at Sarah, who's bringing her fiance and her son to meet you.

Tommy shrugs, a playful grin on his lips. "You're more than welcome to join our Legion of the Undead," he jokes.

You're introduced to Theo, Sarah's husband-to-be, who's on the quiet side, a contradiction to Sarah who's chattering away about him, and Finn, who's an exact replica of his dad, eyeing you and Ellie with a shy smile.

Ellie manages to find a friend in him as you and the others get to catching up. You're introduced to Maria, Tommy's wife, the roundness of her baby bump just barely showing. She oversees the caterers as they start setting up for lunch. Tommy and Sarah talk about you like you're a part of the family instead of someone who knew them for a summer and changed things forever, even in some small way.

"Sarah tells me this is your place now," you speak to Tommy, who's behind the bar and pouring you a drink.

"Sure is," he says, sliding the drink across the bar to you. "Don't know anyone who orders a gin and tonic in the middle of winter," he says, teasing you.

"I'm eccentric," you smirk, taking a sip of the crisp, slightly bitter drink.

"Should be you behind this bar, Cherry," he winks.

"Oh god, no one's called me that in forever," you groan, doing a quick check on Ellie to find her attempting to play pool with Finn.

"How's business?" you ask him.

"Good, good," he nods. "Just glad to be settin' down some roots, buildin' somethin' for when the baby comes."

"Congratulations," you smile. "You and Maria seem like a good fit."

"Well.. y'know.. can't fuck around forever," he chuckles, then he spots someone at the entrance.

"Hey, brother!" Tommy raises his hand in greeting and you stay still, wishing you could sink down into the ground or better yet, become invisible completely.

The old-fashioned jukebox ends a Fleetwood Mac song and drifts into "Hungry Heart" by Bruce Springsteen starts, the catchy, melancholic combo of piano, drums, bass, guitar and saxophone wafting throughout the bar. You keep your eyes on your drink, willing for all of this to be just a dream, some intrusive thought you've put incredible detail into, prolonging your grief over lost love.

But there he is, a barstool between you, giving you your space while ready to jump up at a moment's notice if you want him closer. Your casual glance gives you away when you stare too long at him, clad in a green flannel shirt, his gray tee peeking beneath. You could swear it's the same flannel shirt you wore at the cabin, in the days when you were younger and carefree, before bad things happened to separate you.

Joel catches your look, lips twitching into a smile as his hands wrap around a glass of whiskey.

"So, what took you away from Boston?" you ask, putting your lips to your drink so you're not tempted to ask too much. It's an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"Lot of things," he mutters, staring into the amber liquid. "But mostly I followed Tommy out here."

"I was in Boston with him for awhile." Tommy shakes his head. "Hated it. I'll never set foot on the East Coast again if I can help it. I came out here, met Maria, started a family."

"And Sarah was already out here, buildin' a life. Just made sense for us all to be together again."

You look at both of them, glad the conversation isn't just between you and Joel. "The house is amazing. Joel told me you both built it."

The look of pride on their faces is endearing.

"We did, and mine too, across the street from his," Tommy adds.

"What happened to the contracting business?"

"We expanded it," Joel answers, a twinkle in his eye though his expression remains serious. "Made a nice chunk of change. Got branches in Oklahoma, Arkansas, even as far as Georgia."

That would explain the six-bedroom house, the fancy week-long wedding rituals that Sarah has joyfully swept you up in, and the catered lunches. The Millers have become quite financially well-off.

You listen to the brothers talk about some of the adventures they've been on, the good and the bad that has passed and ultimately brought them here, with you, once again.

The lunch spread is impressive: Texas style barbecue of ribs, brisket, and chicken; side dishes of beans, potato salad, grilled corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, and mouthwatering desserts of pumpkin and pecan pies, cheesecake, banana pudding, and peach cobbler.

You haven't realized how hungry you are until you realize you have to remember to force yourself to eat slower, accidentally spilling a little barbecue sauce on your shirt. Embarrassed, you wipe it away, glancing at Ellie and finding her doing the same thing, just shoveling forkfuls of food in her mouth.

"Easy there," Joel's voice booms from across the table. "No one's gonna take it from ya," he playfully chides.

You were so absorbed in your lunch that you didn't realize he was right across from you. "Ellie," you scold her quietly. "Slow down."

"This is slow for me," she answers.

"Mind your mama," Joel says gruffly, his tone is authoritative.

She looks up at him, in annoyance and surprise. "You don't tell me what to do."

"And you don't talk back like that." Joel's voice gets a little more strict.

"Joel, stop," you intercede, your voice just as terse. The chatter around the table has dimmed but it's obvious everyone has their focus on you three.

"The kid obviously needs some fuckin' manners."

You scoff. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

His eyes lock with yours, dark and cold. "I see where she gets it from. I guess that's what happens when a dad ain't around to teach some respect."

"Fuck this," Ellie mutters, pushing back from the table and throwing down her napkin, quick to get up and leave.

Your face is flaming red with both anger and embarrassment as your gaze burns through Joel's. "There's something wrong with you. Seriously," you mutter before getting up to go after her.

Joel goes after you. Sarah goes after Joel.

"Ellie!" you call out, watching her walk off in the direction of the house.

"I'll get her," Sarah volunteers, gently touching your arm. And then you hear her speak to Joel under her breath, something like "You're ruining it," before she hurries up to catch Ellie.

It's you and Joel now.

"Babygirl," he starts, his voice low.

"Babygirl?? Fuck you!"

Joel goes pale, obviously not expecting that. "I deserve that. I deserve for you to hate me."

"Hate you? No, you deserve worse than for me to hate you! How dare you yell at Ellie like that? I never once saw you treat Sarah that way."

"She never acted like that," he huffs.

"Do us both a favor and just stay away from us for the rest of the week. I'll see about getting a motel tonight, just.. fucking leave us alone."

He mutters Christ, and reaches for you, pulls you to the side of the building. "I'm sorry, all right?"

"Yeah? Tell her that." You could easily leave. He's not restraining you, but you stay. "Is that all you have to apologize for?"

He looks guilty. "No, of course not. I've been trying to talk to you since you got here--"

"Fifteen goddamn years and I don't hear anything from you? And now you.. what, you expect me to fall into your arms like I'm a stupid fucking teenager again? Go to hell! Nothing is that simple anymore!"

You hadn't meant for all your rage to come spilling out, it was just supposed to be about Ellie, but now that you're face to face with him, you can't help wanting to rage at him. Joel backs away from you, his eyes on the ground, hands on his hips, jaw set.

"Longer than that, actually," you softly correct yourself. "San Antonio.. you fucking left me. On my birthday."

He steps forward, not ready to back down. "I went to jail for you. On my birthday."

"I didn't ask you to do that! I didn't ask for anything but for you to love me! And you stopped!"

"No, I didn't," he whispers, arms hanging at his side even though they itch to reach out for you, hold you, make it better again.

"Don't say that," you warn him, backing away. "Don't insult my intelligence, Joel. You don't know what I went through after you left me. My heart was broken for years!"

"You were just a kid. I.. I thought I was doin' right by lettin' you go."

"I wasn't better because of you breaking up with me. I got worse! So much worse!" You don't dwell a lot on the past, specifically the college years that are now mostly a blur of hookups and hangovers, but now it all comes rushing back. Joel was your safety net and he took all that away from you once you started to freefall.

"Bullshit. You got married," he says bitterly.

"I did that so I could feel normal again. I tried to save myself. But it didn't matter in the end because he didn't love me either. Though I have to say, my divorce hurt a hell of a lot less than your abandonment."

Joel starts to look his age. The lines in his face deepen with worry and regret as he absorbs your words, mulling over everything that has happened. "I'm sorry--"

"Besides, you got married too! So please don't play like you're such a saint. You hardly look the part." Your anger has warmed you, given some spice to your blood so that you don't even feel the cold anymore. You roll your sleeves to your elbows, fists curled, adrenaline pumping as you finally tell him everything that's been locked away inside your heart.

"I don't accept your apology," you grunt, adding, "And don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again!" You storm off, wishing you'd brought your jacket but it would mean having to walk past Joel, back into the restaurant and out again, and you're already walking away. It seems one of you is always walking away from the other.

It's snowing again when you find Sarah and Ellie, further down in front of a storefront, steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands. Both are smiling, chatting, seemingly getting along. You know you should reprimand Ellie, tell her to apologize to Joel, but how can you be a hypocrite that way when you won't even talk to him yourself? All you can think about is leaving, going straight to the motel and picking up your things at Joel's later.

Sarah talks you into staying, warning of bad weather coming in soon. She apologizes for Joel, and you apologize for airing your grievances so publicly.

"Just don't do it at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow," she smirks. "Then I'll have to leave your ass out in the snow."

That evening you and Ellie keep to your rooms. You use your phone for distraction when your attention span keeps drifting from your novel, but even technology isn't the answer. There's only so much Merge Mansion you can play, and not even True Detective can hold your attention for long. You decide to rewatch Narcos (for the plot, you tell yourself) when Ellie knocks on your door.

"What's up, kiddo?" You press pause and scoot over on the bed, offering her to get comfy next to you.

"Have you seen the news?"

You're on Do Not Disturb and haven't gotten any of your usual notifications.

"There's a blizzard coming tonight. Sarah says sometimes the main roads get snowed in and we won't be able to get out."

Oh Sarah Miller, the purveyor of bad news. "She told me something like that. How long do they expect conditions to last?" You're already checking your phone.

"Could be days, maybe even up to a week," Ellie shrugs.

"Great," you mutter. "So we're stuck here even after the wedding?" It's the day after tomorrow.

"Please don't make us go to the motel. Sarah's really cool and really nice. And I even like Theo and Finn.. even Joel isn't so bad so long as he stops talking to me like a dad."

That night, as the blizzard blows in, turning everything outside completely white, Joel tosses in his sleep in his room across the hall from yours. It's not the howling winds keeping him awake; he's lived here long enough to get used to such natural disasters.

There's something you said to him, earlier outside the bar. It was an explosive moment, with words exchanged like bullets. But in the midst of it all he took away that one sentence: don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again.

Our daughter?

dividers by @saradika 👑

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[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 19 | SR

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - a slight jump forward in time here. For the sake of this, Spencer’s mom lives back in Vegas.

Chapter Summary - after finding a new place to settle down, things finally seem like they might be looking up for you and Spencer. Meanwhile Luke refuses to rest while he continues searching for you.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - cleaning up a crime scene, burying bodies, fingering, handjob, swearing, vomit, brief mention of depression, penetrative, unprotected sex, lying.

WC - 5.7k

Chapter 19 - Stitch Me Up

Two Months Later

The desert city of Twentynine Palms, California was located in the Mojave Desert and sat on the northern side of the Joshua Tree National Park and promoted the motto “a beautiful desert oasis”. 

It wasn’t small but it was huge either, with a population of around twenty five thousand, making it a great place for two people to hide in plain sight. And given its desert location, the temperature this time of year was over one hundred and five, a stark contrast from tiny little Colorado mountain towns. 

Samuel and Violet Truman of Arizona had moved out west and rented themselves a little fully furnished three bed, single storey home on Chia Avenue in a quiet suburb of Twentynine Palms. They arrived two weeks ago after spending some six weeks travelling the states with their travel companions Jack and Lily Waters. 

From the outside their home left a lot to be desired, with its rickety metal fence and lone palm tree in the sandy front yard. But the inside was so modern and sheek that the couple had signed a lease on the spot. 

From the outside looking in, you and Spencer were the idyllic all American couple. And admittedly, from the inside you were also pretty damn happy. 

Since fleeing Crested Butte in the middle of the night two months ago, things had changed dramatically. That night you’d waited until Luke had stopped patrolling your cabin before getting Mary’s body into the trunk of the Nissan. You’d scrubbed every single inch of the house until it was cleaner than when you’d arrived, tweezed the bullet out of the wall and filled in the hole left behind, before gathering all of your belongings and getting the hell out of dodge. 

On the way out of town you had begged Spencer to make one last stop. He wanted to refuse, you could tell, but he was trying so hard to make you happy, to make up for the way he’d been treating you that he agreed and pulled the Nissan to a stop on the street outside of McGills. 

It had been late and all the lights were off so you’d ducked down the side alley towards the door that led up to his apartment. You’d had no idea if he’d be there but you’d prayed with every fibre of your being that he would. And by some stroke of luck, he answered the door after you’d knocked twice. 

“Rose,” he folded his arms across his chest and leant against the door jamb. “Or should I say, Y/N.” 

“I heard Luke spoke to you.” You gnawed on your lip as Jesse regarded you like the stranger you were. 

“He did. I have to say, I did not expect you to be FBI.” 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “It’s a long story. I just wanted to come by and apologise for everything. I probably really shouldn’t have let myself follow you out of the Nickel that night.” 

“I’m glad you did.” He nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “Even though it didn’t work out between us, it at the very least got me out of my slump. Maybe now I can actually put myself out there again, you know? Now I’ve gotten over that first hurdle.” 

“You’re going to make some woman very happy someday.” You smiled, subconsciously taking a step closer. 

“It’s a shame it couldn’t have been you.” He shrugged wistfully. 

You swallowed thickly, glancing down the alley and noting that you couldn’t see the Nissan from this position, or more importantly, its occupant couldn’t see you. You stepped even closer to Jesse and cupped his cheek. 

“In another life maybe.” You whispered. “I’m leaving town.” 

“I figured as much.” He nodded as your hand wandered down from his face to bicep. “You could stay, you know? With me. You don’t have to go just because he wants you to.” 

“You have no idea how tempting that is. But I can’t.” 

“I know.” He sighed, suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “I’m going to miss you.” 

Suddenly he’d slammed his lips against yours in a kiss so passionate your legs had buckled. If Spencer knew how you’d said goodbye to Jesse, he most likely would have gone back and killed him. If he’d known you’d let Jesse finger you in his doorway while you jerked him off in return, Spencer would have certainly murdered him and probably enjoyed it. 

But clearly you had a better poker face than you realised as Spencer simply drove off as soon as you were back in the car. And on the drive the only thing you’d thought of were Jess’s last words to you. 

“I wish I’d gotten a chance to love you, Y/N.” 

But at some point you had to let that go. 

Mary’s final resting place had been a hole in the ground in the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest in Montana, almost eight hundred miles north of her hometown of Crested Butte. The Nissan met the same fate as Spencer’s Volvo a further five hundred and fifty miles east just outside of Medora, North Dakota. 

Spencer purchased three pairs of bus tickets: one down to Texas, one out to Minnesota and one to Iowa, the latter being the ones you actually used. It took the better part of an entire day on a sweaty, smelly bus before you arrived in Cedar Rapids.

You checked into a cheap and dirty motel under the names of Jack and Lily Waters and spent almost the entire night having sex. Thoroughly exhausted in the morning, Spencer found a used car lot and using his Arizona licence in the name Samuel Truman, paid cash for a black Chevy Impala. 

For the six weeks that followed you travelled up and down the country in much of a zigzag, alternating between your two pseudonyms, back and forth so the BAU would never find you. You spent six weeks in multiple different cheap motels, fucking like rabbits every step of the way. 

You’d never felt so intrinsically linked to someone the way you did to Spencer in those six weeks. And it seemed he’d finally found his bliss as he didn’t kill once. 

Eventually when enough time passed you’d choose to settle down in California. But unfortunately the mundane realities of life would ultimately be your downfall. 

You stood up from the bathroom floor with a groan, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth and padding over to the sink. You stuck your mouth directly under the faucet and drank from it to wash away the taste of bile on your tongue. 

You’d been throwing up on and off for some weeks now but you simply put it down to the residual stress of being on the run. You exhaled heavily before shuffling back out into the bedroom where Spencer still lay naked on top of the sheets. 

“I’m mildly offended.” He offered you a wistful smile. 

“I’m sorry.” You grumbled, flopping back to the bed next to him. 

“It’s ok. Just never had anyone need to throw up whilst sucking my dick before.” He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“It’ll teach me not to eat hotdogs from a gas-and-go.” You sighed. “I can try again if you’re still in the mood?”

“After I just listened to you puke your guts up? I’m suddenly not very horny.” He pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest. “But seriously, are you ok? You’ve been getting sick a lot lately.” 

“Yeah I guess it’s stress or something. I’ll be fine.” You nuzzled against him, placing your hand flush against his chest over his heart. 

You smiled as the ring caught the light and found yourself moving impossibly closer to Spencer. His grandmother's old ring had been upgraded, as had the one he wore, for newer silver matching bands inscribed on the inside with partners in crime. 

One of your stops on your travels before you’d made your way to Twentynine Palms had been in Atlantic City at a seedy motel just off the main strip. After a few drinks one night as you walked by a little drive-in chapel, Spencer had a proposition for. 

“What would you say I said we should get married?” He pulled you to a stop on the sidewalk. 

“Married?” You glared at him. 

“Right now. Partners in crime forever.” He grinned at you. 

“You’re joking, right?” Your brows furrowed. 

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Before we get swallowed up entirely in the lives of Samuel and Violet, I think Spencer and Y/N need to do this one last thing.” 

And really there had only been one answer to that. You and Spencer had been bound for life the moment you’d left DC with him, you were as good as married, so why not make it official? 

If your old team were to ever find one last trace of Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N it would be the signing of marriage licences in a little Atlantic City chapel. 

Spencer purchased you the new rings as a surprise and that along with your rose gold heart necklace, were your most treasured possessions. 

“You don’t need to be stressed, sweetheart. It’s over, we’re safe now. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” He cooed, kissing your head. 

It really was amazing the difference a few months could make. Of course things weren’t ideal, you’d always be on the run, never able to return home but things with Spencer were as close to perfect as they could possibly be. 

Since fleeing Butte he’d been wonderful, the Spencer you’d known was still in there somewhere. You may be on the run but as long as this was the Spencer you woke up to every morning, you didn’t mind at all. 

But Spencer was wrong, things were far from over. At least you’d always have these moments to look back when everything came crumbling down. But for now, despite the stress within you, you knew Spencer was all you needed to feel whole. You and Spencer were two broken halves but maybe together you could patch each other up and finally feel complete. 

***

Two days after Luke Alvez arrived back from Crested Butte he received a phone call from the diner owner's son. 

Jesse McGill had informed him of the mysterious disappearance of the girl Mary, whom Luke had met at the diner, which was followed in quick succession by you and Spencer’s sudden departure from the town. 

It really didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. But unfortunately for Luke it did take a genius to pull it off and Spencer was sure to leave behind no trail, no scrap of evidence. And two months later and Mary still hadn’t been found and the BAU had no leads on you and Spencer’s whereabouts. You’d well and truly outsmarted them. 

In his spare time, which was very few and far between these days, he poured over the Duncan Green case file as well as images of the sparkling clean cabin you’d left behind in Butte in the hopes that maybe he’d missed something. He stayed late in the office every single night and looked for any reports of sightings of you and Spencer as Emily had officially registered you as missing persons. He scrolled through police databases for any other occurrences that might point to where the hell you were. 

He’d discovered two bodies buried in woodlands across the country which were similar in MO to Green but with no pertinent links between them, the BAU couldn’t investigate. 

Lyle Smith was found in a shallow grave with his throat cut in the Hoosier National Forest just north of Jasper, Indiana. The body of Brett Carlisle from Wichita, Kansas was found in the Rita Blanca National Grasslands in Texas. Both bodies had been subject to the elements but deemed to have been dead since before that little Nissan was picked up on Elk Avenue for the first time. So maybe Spencer had been on some kind spree since he’d left DC.

And that brought him onto the discovery of the burnt out Nissan, near identical to how they’d found Spencer’s Volvo. They’d spent three days searching the area surrounding where the vehicle was found for Mary’s body only to come up short. Of course, Spencer wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t dispose of a body anywhere near the car. 

The only lead Luke had really had in the last two months was the filing of a marriage licence in the state of New Jersey. It was like a big middle finger in his face, clearly you’d both wanted him to find it. He’d driven to Atlantic City on one of his rare days off and canvassed the area near the wedding chapels, showing your photographs to anyone who would look. But he knew you’d be long gone. 

If he could just find a way to connect any of these crimes to Spencer, or to find Mary’s body then maybe he could convince you to come home. He was sure you had nothing to do with any of this and if had solid proof that Spencer had murdered one of these people maybe it could be his way to form a wedge between the two of you. No matter what happened, Luke would never stop trying to protect you. 

But god if it wasn’t taking its toll on him.

Luke Alvez was, in no uncertain terms, coming apart at the seams. The stitching holding him together had been removed thread by thread and at this point there was barely anything holding him together. Emily had expressed her concerns for his mental health, suggesting he seek medical help for what she had dubbed a depressive spiral. 

His response had been simply, “you’d be depressed too if your best friend had married a murderer” which had pretty much shut down the conversation. 

He knew he was devolving, he’d seen it hundred of times before. His apartment was a mess of case files, innocuous accounts of possible sightings and potential victims of Spencer. He barely slept, running mostly on coffee and energy bars. He was almost certain he was getting an ulcer. 

But he wouldn’t let this go. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t safe and he couldn’t rest until he knew you were. Maybe this obsession would eventually kill him, but it would be worth it to be able to free you from the clutches of Spencer Reid. 

***

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You scurried back to the car with your best apologetic smile as you slid into the passenger’s seat and Spencer pulled a face. 

“Did you puke again?” He frowned at you. 

“No.” You shook your head. 

“You were peeing again? You went when we got here.” He started the engine. 

You weren’t exactly sure where you were headed, Spencer had simply told you that you were going out for the day and with nothing better to do you’d followed along. You were somewhere along the I-15 heading north about two hours away from Twentynine Palms, at a gas station. You’d only stopped long enough for Spencer to fill up the Chevy and have a coffee and you’d used the bathroom twice, which was very unlike you. 

“I know, I think I drank too much coffee this morning.” You mused, putting on your seatbelt.

“You always drink too much coffee, but that’s an entirely different conversation.” He chuckled, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the space. 

As he merged back onto the interstate you twirled your wedding band around your finger, watching the way his caught the sunlight through the windscreen and you smiled to yourself. 

“Where are we going, Spence? Not that I don’t like a spontaneous road trip but I thought we’d settled now? Driving long distances usually only equals bad things where we’re concerned.” You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Spencer removed one hand from the wheel and brought it to rest on your knee while he smiled at you softly. 

“We’re going to see my mom.” He spoke happily.

“Oh.” You nodded with a soft laugh. “Ok, good. You had me worried for a second.” 

“I told you sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about anything. Not anymore.” He gave your leg a squeeze, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. 

His bloodlust had been sated for the past two months but now it had come back with avengence. He needed to kill and he had a particular target in mind who he was sure would satisfy his urges more so than any that had come before. 

But it was better to keep you in the dark. You were so happy lately and Spencer loved it when you were happy. He’d use visiting his mom as a distraction and he’d sneak off and extract his plan solo. You’d never need to know and your blissful little bubble didn’t need to be popped. 

It was a win-win. 

He ran over his plan in his head as he drove, making sure he had all the little details secure in his mind. There was no margin for error here, this had to be the perfect kill. 

The two of you mostly stayed silent until he’d made it about another half hour up the interstate and you huffed out a loud breath. 

“Goddamnit,” you grumbled. “I need to pee again.” 

***

Visiting Spencer’s mom had been pretty safe for the two of you given that if anyone ever asked her if you’d been here, she most likely wouldn’t remember. You spent a few hours with her upon your arrival in Vegas before Spencer took you for a three course meal at the very expensive Capital Grille on Las Vegas strip. 

After he walked you down to Caesars Palace in which you expected to be having drinks and were extremely surprised when Spencer strolled up to the reception desk stating he had a room reserved under his other alias Jack Waters. 

A bellboy led you up to one of the top floors and showed you to the Palace Premium Suite. You stood in the middle of the grand living room while Spencer tipped the young man and once the door was closed and the two of you were alone, he sidled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“You like it?” He spoke as he kissed the side of your face. 

“Wh-what is happening?” You laughed, still in awe. “What did I do to deserve this?” 

“Consider it a belated, one night honeymoon.” His lips trailed down your neck. “And I guess just a small token of my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. I know I have a hard time saying how I feel but I love you so fucking much and I am the luckiest man in the world to call you my wife.” 

“Spencer,” you sighed happily in your arms. “I love you too. And I’m the lucky one.” 

“Ok, now we’ve got that out of the way, tell me Mrs Reid, where would you like me to fuck you first?”

You moaned at his words, turning yourself around in his arms and attaching your lips together. 

“What are my options?” You spoke against his lips, feeling his dick growing hard as he pressed into you. 

“Well there are multiple couches, a four poster king sized bed, a pretty decadent bathtub, or there’s my personal favourite option…” his hands wandered under the hem of your shirt and over your back. 

“Which is?” You took hold of his lapels, tearing your lips away from his so you could look at him.

His pupils were already blown out with his lust, his lip quirked up into a sinful smirk. 

“We’re way up high, with some of the best views of Vegas.” He tugged your shirt up, quickly getting it over your head and tossing it aside. He took hold of your biceps and turned you back around to face the huge floor to ceiling windows overlooking the strip, his lips moving back to your ear. “My choice would be to fuck you up against the window. But that’s just me.” 

He was already leading you towards the windows, lips sucking the flesh of your neck, his free reaching between your bodies and unhooking your bra. He quickly got it off your arms and dropped it on the floor, and you made no protest when he pushed your front up against the window. You hissed slightly at the cool glass as it touched your nipples and Spencer smiled to himself. 

It was all a part of his plan. He would render you dumb with sex then run you an indulgent bubble bath with a large glass of wine to soothe your post-coital muscles. Then he’d tell you he’d left something at his mother's facility which was purposefully on the other side of town to buy him some time. 

He’d tell you he hopefully wouldn’t be gone long, but traffic on the strip at night could be a nightmare and he’d be back as soon as possible. He’d inform you of the bar and the spa downstairs if you wanted to use either while he was gone. 

And while you were preoccupied having a drink or getting a massage or whatever, he would seek out his target, slice his throat and be back before you knew it, with any luck rejuvenated enough for round two. 

He continued kissing your neck while he started unbuttoning your pants and you helped him wiggle them down your legs and kick them off. You could see Spencer in the reflection in the window start to work on the buttons of his shirt. You caught his eye and he smiled at you. 

He shucked his shirt off and pressed his bare chest against your back, caging you against the window with his hips, his hard cock pressing into your back. His lips moved back to your neck and worked on sucking deep bruises into your flesh whilst one hand wandered over your stomach and quickly dipped inside your panties. 

You closed your eyes as two fingers were soon pressing inside of you, his thumb massaging your clit. You rolled your ass backwards, grinding against his erection but you wobbled a little on your legs at the feeling of his fingers inside you. 

With your eyes closed your mind wandered of its own accord. There were times when you and Spencer were together that you found yourself thinking of Jesse, most specifically the last time you’d seen him when he’d fingered you in his doorway. 

It was entirely involuntary, you certainly didn’t mean to think about him and his strong tattooed arms and the large vein in his forearm that pulsed when his fingers were inside of you. You didn’t mean to imagine his wiry beard scratching your face as he kissed you. And you most definitely didn’t mean to picture him fucking you whilst Spencer was. Sometimes it just happened. 

Spencer was by no means an idiot and he knew you still thought about GI Mountain Man. He knew exactly what you looked like post orgasm and he’d known what the two of you had been doing when you’d said goodbye to him, even if you’d tried hard to hide it. There had been three, maybe four times when you’d said his name under your breath when he was fucking you but you’d never seemed to notice. 

Of course it bothered him, a part of him wanted to drive back to Butte and kill Jesse just to make himself feel better. But he was trying to be better for you and so he ignored the occasional slip of the tongue. 

Your hand snaked around his wrist, holding him firmly in place in your panties. He knew you were thinking about Jesse now, call it intuition, or gut instinct, but whatever it was Spencer knew. 

He used his free hand to relieve himself from his pants and move them down his thighs enough so they were out of his way. He was almost positive that Jesse wasn’t as big as him, couldn’t fill you up the way he could.

In one swift move, he removed his fingers from inside of you and hurriedly plunged his cock between your legs, causing you to gasp and fall flat against the window. Your eyes sprung open at the sudden intrusion and you made eye contact with him in the reflection.

“Jesus Christ, Spence.” You panted as he bottomed out. “A little warning next to him.” 

He chose to ignore you, placing his hands flush on the glass either side of your head as he started thrusting into you. He kept eye contact through the glass, not letting you close your eyes for fear you would start thinking of Jesse again. 

It’s not fair. I’ve done everything for her, I fucking married her and it’s still not enough. What makes him better than me? Why is he still on her mind? 

He tried not to let his anger cloud his judgement and had to rein himself back from fucking you too hard. He forced himself to slow down, thrusting you languidly against the window. You moaned in sync with one another while the Strip below illuminated you both in its chaotic glow. 

You kept your eyes on his in the reflection while he fucked you and all thoughts of Jesse left your head. When you were clenching around him, legs shaking from your impending orgasm, he took hold of your left hand and ran his fingers over your wedding band. 

“You’re mine.” He mumbled, his face contorting as his own orgasm snuck up on him. “Mine. My partner in crime, my wife, my…fuck.” 

He groaned the last word, head falling to your shoulder as he suddenly came inside of you. You whimpered as he filled you up, pushing you over the edge and your legs almost gave up with the force of your orgasm. 

You fell back against Spencer’s chest, his arms holding you up right even though his own legs were shaking. As you fought to catch your breath he peeled you away from the window as he slid out of you and helped you over to the couch. 

You collapsed onto it, panting heavily and pulling Spencer down with you. He laid his head on your chest and listened to the sound of your erratic heartbeat. 

You laid like this for a while until you were both breathing at a normal rhythm and Spencer untangled himself from your arms and got to his feet. He tucked himself away and tugged his pants back up before buttoning them. 

“I’m gonna run you a bubble bath.” He smiled softly down at you. 

“You gonna join me in it?” You smiled back sleepily. 

“Sadly not, I realised I left my wallet at Bennington.” He went to head towards the bathroom but he didn’t get far. 

“You had your wallet at dinner.” You sat up, frowning at the back of his head. 

Spencer froze in his tracks. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

“Uh,” he turned back to face you, quickly trying to think on his feet, which would be a lot easier if his head wasn’t still hazy from his orgasm. “Not my wallet, I meant the burner phone. I should go and get it.” 

You scrutinised him for a moment but thankfully for him your own head was also bleary and wouldn’t allow you to think too much into it. 

“Ok.” You shrugged, flopping back to the couch. 

Spencer exhaled heavily, continuing on his way to the bathroom. He started the water, pouring in an ample amount of bubble bath and leaving the tub to fill. 

“There’s a bar downstairs and a spa, even a casino. If you get bored with the bath and I’m not back, go nuts.” He spoke as headed back into the room, locating the bottle of red wine he’d had sent to the room before you arrived. 

He made quick work of the cork and poured you a large glass before coming back over to the couch and dropping down next to you. He handed you the glass and you sat yourself up against the cushions again. 

“Hmm I like honeymoons.” You smiled, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a small sip. 

Moments later your face fell and you gagged, thrusting the glass back at Spencer before leaping from the couch and running as fast as your legs could carry you to the bathroom. 

Spencer heard the toilet seat slam back against the cistern and then the distinctive sound of vomiting echoed around the room.

Realistically he was smart enough to figure out what was going on, as were you, but both of your heads were clouded by other thoughts and so you both missed the obvious. 

Spencer padded back to the bathroom and found you on your knees, wiping your hand over your mouth. You looked up at him with large, sad eyes. 

“The wine turned against me.” You whined. “Goddamn gas-and-go hotdogs.” 

Spencer smiled sadly at you and slid to the floor next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the bath continued to fill behind him. 

“Are you going to be ok if I pop out?” Please god say yes, I need this, it has to be tonight. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s passed again now, I guess I just won’t be drinking any wine tonight.” You sighed. “You go, do your thing.” 

“As long as you’re sure.” Spencer pushed himself back to his feet and then held his hands out to help you up. 

“Of course. Do you think you’ll be gone for long?” 

“No idea, traffic at this time of night will probably be a pain, but I promise I’ll hurry.” He stroked your hair back from your face. 

“Ok.” You nodded, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the tub. “Go, I’m fine. I can run a bath.” 

“I won’t be long.” He went to kiss you but then thought better of it as your breath smelt like vomit. Instead he kissed his first and middle finger and then placed them on your lips making you chuckle. 

Soon he was heading out of the room in search of his bag so he could change into jeans and t-shirt. The weapons were in the Chevvy’s glovebox, ready for their next assignment. 

He dressed quickly and got his shoes on, throwing on a hoodie before grabbing the car keys and heading to the door. 

“Be safe, sweetheart.” He called as he reached for the handle. 

“Love you.” You replied and it made his heart swell every time he heard you say that. 

As he opened the door, his wedding ring caught his eye and he rolled his lip between his teeth. He forced open the door, ignoring the way his heart practically exploded when he looked at his ring. He had a job to focus on. 

But the truth was, you were the only thing keeping him together. He was lost and you’d found him, taken him in and patched him up. His scars both mental and physical didn’t phase you, if anything you’d loved him harder because of them. You’d fixed him up in ways you’d never understand and he hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake in what he was about to do. 

He was fairly certain you’d never walk away from him, that nothing he could do could be worse than the things he’d already put you through. Because he was sure one day all that thread keeping him together would come unravelled and if he had no one there to stitch him back up again he would be torn so deeply there would be no repairing him. And god only knows how quickly a broken man would devolve.

No, it's no wonder I feel broken,

Are you the one to fix me up, patching up the work they done?

Try and sew me,

So thread the needle, tie it off, teach me how to trust someone.

Really hoping that you stay,

That you never walk away,

Every word I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say it.

Do you feel the stress in me,

Steady bursting at the seams?

You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

No, it's no wonder you've been feeling,

Like a doll in lost and found, so mistreated, thrown around.

Who you kidding? (You kidding),

Every flaw and every fray, that's what makes you sexy to me.

Really hoping that I stay,

I could never walk away,

Every word we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say it.

Do you feel the stress in me,

Steady bursting at the seams?

You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Really hoping that you stay,

Pray you never walk away,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart,

Oh, pardon all my precious scars.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective

[eemcintyre]

Flipped (Tom Cruise)

TW- n/a

Summary- Tom's daughter keeps him company from her playpen while he cooks dinner.

Just a smol little idea I had that I had to put into existence :)

It was a regular evening at the Colorado house; Y/N was holed up in her office conducting an impromptu business phone call while Tom got a head start on dinner preparations. The baby, Indie, kept him company nearby in her playpen- between chewing on her sleeve and crawling laps around the pen’s perimeter, she watched her father with interest.

“Y’know, a captive audience is the best kind of audience,” Tom spoke to her as he ignited the stove, placing a pan of meats and vegetables over the flame.

He reached for a wooden spoon, but before stirring the ingredients, attempted to toss the spoon into the air and catch it. As it fell to the floor with a thud, he shot a glance down the hallway and listened for Y/N’s voice, but it appeared she hadn’t heard. Spoon in hand again, he returned his attention to the baby, raising his other hand to his lips in a shushing gesture.

“Now, this stays between us. If your mother finds out, she’ll laugh at me,” he grinned. “And I might lose my kitchen privileges. Technically, it was her fault because she distracted me, but the last time she saw me trying to be fancy I may have sliced my hand open… and we don’t need to open Pandora’s box again, ok?”

At that moment, Indie let out a loud squeal and Tom threw up his hands in defeat.

“Remind me never to plan a heist with you.”

Turning to the assortment of spice bottles he had gathered earlier, he said in an exaggerated, pretend female voice: “If you can’t grow, harvest, and dehydrate all of your own spices, store-bought is fine.” Indie laughed, feeding into his theatrics. “Now, I used to be really good at this. We’re gonna try again.”

He flipped each spice bottle in the air, from one hand to the other, as he added it to the pan. Despite a couple of near-misses, this second attempt produced no casualties, and he chuckled to himself: “The old man’s still got it.”

The baby continued to laugh until she drooled.

“You see, I was in a movie once where I played a bartender, and…” He cringed as he began to recall the details of the movie, particularly the sexually charged elements. “Yeah, you’re not going to watch that. Ever.”

[eponymous-rose]

Monday!

It's been a while since I've done one of these week-in-the-life posts (and I LOVE reading them from others), and it's a particularly stressful week where I'm trying to stay off social media for Reasons, so hey, let's do this again!

It's a busy day, but it starts relatively late - I don't have to leave for the office until 10AM. So, you may ask, why on earth do I set my alarm for 8:30? Is it because I have an elaborate morning routine? Is it so I can hit the gym and go for a jog? No, no, no, it's because I have a little cat who takes the alarm as her cue to cuddle and I don't want to disappoint her, so I inevitably spend half an hour hugging her like a purring teddy bear first thing in the morning before I get up.

I respond to some e-mails as I get ready and on the bus ride over - mostly prep for our department's holiday party (I'm in the band and we're trying to get as much practice in as possible), but also a little work getting supercomputer access restored for an undergrad research assistant, offering to write a letter of recommendation so my colleague doesn't have to (we both know the student well and said colleague is traveling across the country for a funeral on a redeye flight tonight...), reworking some elements of the rubric for the faculty search committee I'm on, and confirming a meeting with my grad student.

10:45 - I get to the office and go to make my usual mug of tea... and realize in the moment I close my office door that the keys are still inside. I get the hot water from the lounge and meander by the office, but nobody's there. Just as I'm about to work up the nerve to go interrupt a more senior professor's meeting to borrow his keys, one of the office staff walks by and is happy to open the door for me, phew.

11:00 - My most senior grad student is doing an internship in Colorado this quarter (it's the location he most wants to do a postdoc at as well!), and we've set up a call to catch up after a few weeks without chatting. It's a bit of an awkward chat because he wants to go to his second conference in two months, and I had to bring out the "well, um, this is a side project you're doing with someone else's research group and you may want to check with them about where the $2000+ for conference costs is coming from". I possibly have an avenue - I might ask him to just attend for a couple of days instead of the whole time, so I can use some funding from a different grant, but I'm hoping we can get some cost-sharing going here, or possibly the other professor he's working with can present his poster for him if need be. Still, his work's going great and I'm hoping we can get him to this conference! He finishes his PhD this year, and I can attest to how helpful conferences are for landing postdocs.

12:00 - Speaking of grants, I had a successful grant come through late last summer to study wildfire smoke dynamics with novel instrumentation (something new to me!), and the whole team is meeting up for the first time to talk logistics! I also have to teach real soon, so I'm only on for the first chunk of the call, but we get some of the plan set up. Looks like we'll be meeting at a NASA facility early next year to do some siting stuff prior to the first controlled burn. I genuinely have no idea what I'm doing on this project, apart from being willing to write a big chunk of the proposal, but it's a good time!

12:30 - Class time! This is my domain-specific intro-to-python class that I developed 5 years ago and have been iterating on ever since. It's going a lot smoother this week than last, and the students are pretty responsive to my jokes (priority #1, lbr) and seem to be following along quite well, judging by the handful of questions I get after class. Not a ton of technical issues today, either, which is a HUGE win over last week.

1:30 - Forecasting time! I'm once again part of our university team in a giant forecasting contest. While I'm decidedly average at it (usually around 250th out of 1000 participants), my grad student was #1 for a while there. We chat in broad terms about the next week of weather in our targeted forecasting region.

2:30 - Meeting with another graduate student! We talk about some of the researchers he reached out to after his first conference a couple weeks ago, and we're starting to narrow down a possible author list for his first paper. He's working on writing up the methods and data for that paper while he incorporates a few new datasets into his preestablished workflow. He's been doing really well! Being a dual-major in CS means his code is a heckuva lot more organized than most second-year grad students I've had.

3:30 - ...nothing??? I've decided to skip my usual seminar and postpone one undergraduate student research meeting this afternoon (the one currently locked out of the supercomputer he needs for his project) since I have a couple of grant proposals due very shortly. I head out to grab some teriyaki to bring back to my office for lunch/dinner, but the restaurant just has a big sign out front saying "closed for FIRE" so I opt to go across the street for some chicken katsu and boba tea instead. I approve the final budget (coming up on a million dollars, no pressure) and keep plugging away at the statement of work (which is basically "what are you going to do, in detail, with one million dollars over the next three years? please tell us in exactly 15 pages, not counting your 3-page bibliography and 6 appendices"). I even find a perfect paper to reference to discuss one of our theories! We've made it through one round of reviews with our pre-proposal, and man, we'd love to do this project - it would be myself, a colleague, and a postdoc looking at some really novel stuff in severe storm predictability over the next three years. I also get a little work done on the invited talk I'm giving to a student journal club tomorrow, and work on some more e-mails (trying to set up a meeting with a friend's graduate student to help her out with some methods she's using from an older paper of mine).

5:15 - One of my colleagues has retired this year and has a farewell song he wants to sing at our holiday party, which happens to be mostly voice & piano, so we agree to meet up before the main practice and go over it a couple times before the rest of the band shows up and he has to head out to dinner. I'm really sorry to see him leaving (although I know he's delighted to get to spend more time with his kids and grandkids) - he and his wife were extremely welcoming when I started here, and were so kind and supportive when Mom died. Just very touched that he reached out to me to play piano on this one. Tragically, though, whoever was supposed to bring in the keyboard hasn't left it in the practice room, so we'll have to wait and run through it with the rest of the band on Thursday. Instead, it's back to the office to get caught up on e-mail and try to slog through more of the grant application (all today's research and work has netted me... 1 page of writing, blah).

6:00 - The rest of the band shows up! We run three songs of our eight-song setlist, and I'm somehow now playing on 4/8 of them, despite there being five people signed up for keys. It's a good time, though!

8:00 - I make it home and give Clara a bunch of new toys that have arrived with her prescription food (one of which she licks for 15 minutes straight). Luckily, tomorrow's work schedule is much more chill!

[youwouldntdownloadapizza]

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 5 - The Lookout Tower

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You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.6k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

chapter warnings: childbirth (mentioned)

Chapter 5 - The Lookout Tower

The trailhead proved useful, sloping gently downwards for a while before bringing you to the base of a long series of switchbacks. You couldn’t see the lookout tower, but the path led uphill. And uphill was the right direction.

Joel was quiet as you made your way up the twisting path. You were starting to think that was just his natural state when he spoke up.

“About last night…” he started. You didn’t let him finish.

“It never happened.” You offered him a reassuring smile over your shoulder. “I appreciate it. But I don’t…expect anything. From you.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t. He just nodded, looking down at the path in front of him. You felt bad, cutting him off like that.

“How are Ellie’s shoes holding up?” you asked.

“They’re good,” he nodded. “Very flashy.”

You pulled your horse to a halt, whipping around to look at him. 

“Joel Miller, was that a pun ?”

He looked like a deer in headlights.

“Don’t tell Ellie.”

The rest of the trek passed easily, the conversation light. You talked about your lives before the outbreak, at least the parts that didn’t hurt to discuss.

He’d worked in construction, he told you. He built houses, and liked it well enough. You tried asking him about his life outside of work, but he kept redirecting the conversation back to you. You didn’t push him on it.

You told him of your own life—that you’d been 18 when the outbreak hit, and had just started college in Colorado when a bout of homesickness brought you home to Salt Lake City for the weekend. You’d been there ever since. Well, until Jackson, that is.

“What was your major?” he asked you.

You sighed wistfully at the memory of your 18-year-old self, whose future had gone up in spores.

“Undeclared.”

Joel let out a low hum of understanding. You heard the soft sound of his lips parting as if to say more, but no words followed.

You forged ahead.

After a while, the switchbacks spat you out at the base of a tall wooden tower supported by beams far rustier than you’d anticipated.

“We’ll get tetanus if we try to climb that thing,” you said.

“Might have a point there,” he agreed.

While you tethered the horses to a tree, Joel circled the base of the tower, looking for a way up.

“There,” he pointed to the collapsed balcony on one side. “The railing’s out. I’ll boost you up, then you can drop down a ladder or something.”

You crossed your arms, nodding.

“How does that work, exactly?”

He quirked a smile. “You’ve never been boosted?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“It’s simple,” he said, squatting beneath the access point and interlacing his fingers. He held them out in front of him, creating a sort of foothold. “One foot goes here, then one on my shoulder, then I stand up and give you a boost.”

“That sounds wildly unsafe.”

“You just have to trust me. I won’t let you fall, I promise. Just use the momentum and push yourself up like you’re getting out of a swimming pool.”

“And Ellie does this?”

“All the time.”

“Fine,” you nodded, stepping towards him. He met your eyes, then assumed the position. You stepped into his hands, then on his shoulder, and next thing you knew you were pulling yourself up onto the balcony.

You looked back down at Joel, who gave you a patronizing smile and two thumbs up. 

“Nice job, sweetheart.”

You flipped him off, and went to find something for him to climb on.

The place was sparsely decorated, with a cot against one wall and a large map spread across a central table. Waist-height wooden walls bordered the small square room, with windows spanning the remaining gap to the ceiling.

A coil of rope sat atop a strange wooden stool with each leg placed in what appeared to be a water glass, the liquid long since evaporated. Thick knots were tied at one-foot increments, clearly meant for climbing.

You secured the rope to a metal bracket protruding from the outside wall and dropped the loose end over the edge to Joel.

“Here,” you called out to him. “Climb on up.”

You continued your inspection of the place, opening drawers to find little more than dusty old clothes and files from before the outbreak. In the top drawer of what appeared to be a dresser, however, you found a threadbare plushie. Not a lion, or a tiger, or a bear. 

But a rat.

You wailed, dropping the thing like it just bit you.

“Doe!” Joel called up.

You couldn't hear him. You couldn't hear anything. You were frozen to the spot, memories flashing through your mind at breakneck speed. Memories of nightmares like the one you'd had last night.

Over and over and over again, you watched your sister die. Watched as she was mauled by clickers, shot by raiders, hanged by FEDRA for breaking some arbitrary rule.

Joel shouted your name again, but there was no response.

“Dammit,” he muttered, taking the rope in his hands and beginning to climb. He made it about five feet off the ground before the bracket snapped under his weight, the bolts giving way and dropping him on his ass.

He got to his feet quickly, assessing the situation. He wasn't sure what was going on with you, there was no sound of a struggle so he doubted you were hurt. Maybe something had startled you? He couldn't tell for certain without being there himself.

He pulled thick leather gloves from his pack, and risked the rusty scaffolding. Pulling himself up over the railing, he entered the tower to see you sitting on the edge of the cot, silent tears spilling down your cheeks while your eyes stared out into nothingness.

Pulling off his gloves, he got down on his knees before you. He put a hand on your knee, shaking you gently in an attempt to snap you out of it. It didn't work.

“Doe, what's wrong?” He asked gently.

His words caught your attention, but the only explanation you could offer was the rat plushie held gingerly in your hands. He took it, looking the scraggly thing over.

“I don't understand,” he said.

“My sister,” you said quietly. “She was here.”

He sat next to you, both of your gazes fixed firmly on the toy rodent.

“Were you separated?” He asked. 

You shook your head. “She's dead.”

“How?” The question slipped out before he could stop it. Joel winced at the rude inquiry, but it didn't seem to faze you.

“That's the thing,” you smiled dejectedly. “I don't remember.”

The two of you sat in silence for a long while, you not offering up any additional information and Joel not coaxing it out of you.

“I–” he started, just as you rose to your feet.

“We should go,” you cut him off, crossing to the map that sat atop the large central table.

Joel nodded, joining you.

The map showed Jackson and the surrounding mountains, with the lookout tower marked with what appeared to be a gold star sticker like the kind your first grade teacher used to give out. You pulled a compass from your pack, aligning it with the one on the map, and pointed ahead and slightly to your right.

“The lodge is that way.”

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[tacticalrefrigerator]

For personal reasons im gonna ignore the last 10 ish minutes of season two episode 8. it's not canon its a fucked up fan fiction that someone wrote :)

⚠️Season two episode eight spoilers⚠️

Genuinely tho why the fuck did David Jenkins think that THAT was an appropriate send-off for izzy? To be a representation of the metaphorical death of blackbeard? That's it??? That's all he was in the end? His death taking blackbeard with him leaving just Edward?

My question is why couldn't he have lived and his "send off" be becoming Captain izzy hands aiding Zheng and company in revenge against prince ricky? He could have lived and taken on the role of "blackbeard" while leaving Ed and Stede to be innkeepers, that being the "death" of blackbeard. Or if Izzy had to die why couldn't the death of blackbeard be literal? Killing blackbeard and his first mate Izzy Hands, leaving not a trace of blackbeard leaving stede and company to either continue piracy or split up. I'll never be able to watch season two the same way knowing they, traumatized, abused, disabled, and grew Izzy all for him to die as a pawn for Ed's story. That was fucking soul crushing.

It wasn't even a character arc for Izzy, his own death. It was an obstacle for FUCKING ED. So everything leading up to this point, all of his growth, his acceptance within the crew as the unicorn, the abuse from Kraken!Blackbeard, the finding of himself, ALL OF THAT WAS FOR FUCKING NOTHING???

This character meant so much to me for so many reasons. He was an angry, traumatized man who was clinging to an ideal of someone who'd changed. As he grows as a character he realizes that Blackbeard doesn't exist anymore and what's left is Edward Teach, the man he fell for, his best friend. He realizes he's accepted by the crew of the revenge, and in turn realizes he's finally part of something again. His growth as an older queer disabled man from a hardened jerk who couldn't let go of blackbeard was beautiful to watch. And they cut it short. Izzy spoke to me as a character, watching him die in such an, undignified way killed me inside. I have very little in common with izzy yes. He's a 50 something heavily traumatized disabled man living in the (though not historically accurate) 1700's , im a queer, able bodied, teen from colorado in the 21st century who rants on tumblr for fun. But watching episode 6 in particular, knowing what he was in season 1, watching him fearful to be himself then be accepted beautifully when he started singing, accepted as their unicorn dressing in drag, performing during Calypso's birthday, It spoke to me. That process of being terrified of being yourself then finally finding the group that loves you for you. I related to that point in his story so much. I was and still in a sense am terrified of being myself. Im a weird little gay trans guy who's into weird niches. Seeing that struggle in a character and watching his acceptance resonated with me and meant the world and beyond to my little queer heart.

And another thing, Jenkins didn't even fucking tell Con that izzy would be killed when he signed onto ofmd 2. He broke the news halfway through FILMING. A character that meant that much to both Con and the fanbase was killed off to be nothing more than a CHARACTER ARC FOR EDWARD. And the actor who brought Izzy Hands to life was none the wiser until he'd already agreed to play Izzy again.

Now knowing that the story might go on without Izzy, without Con constantly reposting fanart of izzy, without his sass, without his vaguely nsfw quips. It makes the idea of season three less appetizing, for lack of a better word. Izzy was a key part of why i loved season 2 and was willing to excuse how rushed it was.

That's my 2 cents about that absolute bullshit ending to Izzy's story.

[horny4hetfield]

Rockies Christmas - Day 2

And here's today's!

Warnings: Fluff mostly. Christmas tree cutting, chainsaw and ATV use.

I roll over into his body.  He’s still gently snoring, one arm wrapped around my shoulders.  Laying on my side, I rest my left hand on his chest.  My ring glints in the rising sun.  The memories flood my brain.  Me almost walking out on him a few months ago.  The talks – some heated – during that snowstorm that trapped us in this house.  The trip to California for him to work on some songs.  Me getting super sick while there.  The trip to NYC.  His face seeing the Parade in person.  The trees in Santa’s wonderland.  The look in James’ eyes.  My insides still flutter seeing the ring.  My heart is still rapting around the clouds.  My brain no longer screaming ‘Hold on a second here’. 

We have both made changes.  Both worked on becoming better people.  Better partners.  Better lovers.  Well, the last one has never really been an issue.  I can still feel how he’d stretched me out in the shower yesterday when we got back to the house.  Home Colorado home.  I snicker softly to myself.  He shifts slightly in his sleep, his arm tightening slightly around me, then relaxing again.  His tattoo laced body is still in excellent shape.  His arms tight from years of playing guitar.  His legs strong from his stage stance – legs wide and leaning back.  His chest firm.  His belly might be a little poochy since we have eaten a lot over the past couple of weeks.  I smile gently as I run my hand over it.  A couple more weeks won’t hurt.  His hand gently cups mine.  “mmm” he sighs.

“Morning handsome” I whisper.

He lifts my hand to his lips, “Morning gorgeous” he whispers back.

I lower my head back to his chest.  His hand starts playing with my hair.  He heaves a sigh.  Looking up at him, “You ok?”

He pulls me closer, “Yeah.”  He kisses my hair, “I’m good.”  His blue eyes catch mine.  “I’m better than good.”  He kisses my forehead, “I’m great.”  He pulls me closer.  “How you doing?”

I lean in to his body, “Wonderful.”  He cocks a smile and wiggles his eyebrows.

Both our stomachs rumble.  And we both burst out laughing.  He flips the covers off us, “C’mon.  Let’s get breakfast” as he pushes me from bed.

I flip the covers back over the bed, “You making or me?”

“Will you make your breakfast sandwiches, please?”  His big blue puppy eyes blink at me.

Giggling, “Yes!”  I grab my robe, “You get to make the coffee.”

“Yes!” he grunts as he pulls on a robe.

Twenty minutes later we are sitting on the back patio, the firepit lit, munching happily on our breakfast.  My toes are shoved under his thighs in his chair.  Between bites, his hand wraps around my ankle gently.  We watch the wildlife – namely birds and squirrels – play in the trees.

Sighing, I look over at him, “What’s the plan today?”

James rubs from my ankle up my calf, “Well, I should probably find the decorations in the garage.  There might be some in the big storage area off the media room.”

“Where do you store your tree?”

He just points to the woods.  I give him a look.  “I go cut one” he says plainly.

“Like, with an axe, cut one?” my eyebrows are nearly at my hairline.

He sits up in his chair, “You’ve never cut a Christmas tree?”  I slump and give him a look.  “Oh.  Right.  Big city girl.”  He stands up and pulls me to my feet, “Then to the forest we go!”  He turns off the firepit, grabs our plates and almost shoves me inside.  Our breakfast dishes get dropped into the sink, and he’s pulling me to our bedroom.  “You’ll need something that you won’t care if it gets sticky.”

“Sticky?”

A kiss to my forehead, “Sap.”  He stops a second and really looks at me.  “You’ve never had a real tree.  Have you?” 

I just shake my head.  “They are super expensive in New York City.”

“What kind of tree did you have?”

“I still use my Grandmother’s aluminum one.”

“WHAT??”  Shaking his head, “Nope not here.”  He gets a really big grin, “Oh!  This is going to be fun!”  He smacks my ass, “C’mon!”

Ten minutes later, I’m dressed in a pair of his old sweatpants over my stretchy pants with one of his old t-shirts under a super baggy sweatshirt that both look like he’d worn them to paint something.  My big winter boots complete my outfit.  We put together a cooler - filled with some quickie sandwiches, a few Squeezed to Death cans, some granola bars and a couple of chocolate bars - that he’s strapped onto the back of the huge ATV.  James pulls out a chainsaw in its case, some rope and small toolbox from the back of the garage and adds them beside the cooler.  He was super careful moving the big machine past my Shelby.  “We should drive that once more before winter really sets in” he mentions in passing.  He closes the garage door and plops me onto the rig.  Grabbing a helmet, he straps it on me.  He puts on his own helmet and climbs up onto the ATV.  Sitting between my knees he turns, “Try not to pull me too hard with your arms.”  He pulls my knees into his hips, “Squeeze here.”  I nod.  “If you need my attention, tap my back.”  Again I nod.  “You ok?”

“I’ve never been on one of these.”  I look at him, I can’t hide the concern on my face.

He smiles at me – our helmets won’t let him kiss me – “I got you.”  He cocks a lopsided smile, “You trust me?”

I smile at him, “Completely.”

His smile broadens, he pats my knees, then turns and fires up the machine.  Its huge engine screams to life vibrating me.  He scooches back a little, pulls my one knee a little tighter into his hip and slowly pulls the rig down the driveway.  I gently wrap my arms around his mid-section, trying to keep my knees locked tightly to his hips.  I can tell he’s having a blast.  I’m still terrified that I’m going to fall off the back.  But I begin to realize that he’s not going to let that happen.  He takes us up into the hills.  I think we’re on a trail.  I could be wrong.  My helmet takes a branch or two, so I lean in a little closer to his back.  Eventually, he pulls the rig to a stop and kills the engine.  The quiet is deafening.  He spins to look at me.  His eyes sparkling with joy.  “Well?”  He tugs off his helmet.

I nod, “Ok.  It was fun.”

He helps me pull my helmet off, “Sorry about those branches.  That’s why the helmet tho.”  Then he plants a toe curling, earth stopping, crotch instantly sopping wet kiss, on me.  Pulling away from me, he’s just smiling.

“I have never seen you so happy.”

“I love being out here.”  He helps me off the ATV, “I love getting up here.”

“You love the engine.”

Nodding, “Nnyeah, that too!”  Another big smooch.  He walks me a few feet, “And this.”  He turns me.

I gasp.  I didn’t realize how high we’d gone.  There is the valley floor laid out below us.  The houses tiny.  The highway looking like a thin grey ribbon.  Suddenly, the cry of an eagle.  James spots it and points it out to me.  I can only stand there staring.  I lose the big bird in the sun. 

James’ hand slides down my arm to my hand, “This is as far as I take the 4-wheeler.  Where I want to cut the tree is up this way.”  He undoes the straps and grabs the chainsaw.  “Can you carry these please?”  He hands me the rope and the toolbox.  I collect them from him.  As we walk away from the ATV, James pulls the key.  “Don’t want those pesky peeping tom squirrels stealing it!”

I laugh at him and follow his lead.  I have no idea how far we walk.  He leads the way into a grove of evergreens.  He sets the chainsaw down.  We were both panting.  He looks at me, “You ok?”

“A little light headed, but ok.”

“Yeah, I forgot about the altitude.”  He sits on a fallen tree and pats it.  “Come sit for a minute.”  I sink onto the trunk.  James is looking at the trees.  “Now.  To find one that’s fairly straight.  Branches evenly spaced.”

“How do you know how tall?”

“Height isn’t the issue.  I can always cut some from the bottom at home.”  He looks at me, “Those lower branches can be used to decorate the house.”  He holds up a finger, “But it can’t be too tall, then it will be a pain to get down the hill.”

I cock a look at him, “Down the hill?”

He just laughs, pats my thigh, and standing, “C’mon.  I want to get home before dark.”

I stand, collecting the rope and toolbox then follow him into the trees.  After a few hundred feet, we come into a bigger clearing.  Well, a clearer space.  With the stumps in the area, it is obviously where he’s cut trees in previous years.  He smiles at the look on my face, “Yeah, me and the kids have thinned trees here for a long time.”  He sets the chainsaw down on a large stump.  “Some of these were cleared before I found this spot.”  I perch on the stump.  James looks around at the trees.  “Here.”  He holds his hand out to me and leads me to a good-sized tree.  “What do you think of this one?”  We both walk around it. 

“Where will this go?”

“I usually put it in the corner windows by the kitchen.”

Shaking a couple of boughs, “It looks good to me.”

“I think we have a tree!”  He goes to the uphill side of it, “Watch it and see if anything flies or scampers out of it.”  He shifts a couple of boughs and literally gives the trunk a couple of solid kicks.  “Anything?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“Good.  We’re not taking somebodies home.”  He almost skips to get the chainsaw.  Carrying it back with the rope and toolbox, he sets up a work area a distance from the tree. “Don’t want it coming down on the case.”  He pulls out a pair of blue plastic gloves for me and puts on his big leather work gloves.  Pulling out the chainsaw, I take a step back.  The chain looks absolutely wicked.  Before he starts it, “I want you to stay where I can see you.  Once this starts, I won’t be able to hear you.  And this can take off a limb in a heartbeat.”  I can tell he’s serious.  I nod.  “I’m going to try to lay it down that way” he motions with his arm “so stay over this way.  But be ready to jump if the tree decides to fall the wrong way.”  Again, I nod.  He leans into me with a quick kiss.  Then setting the chainsaw on the ground, he yanks on the starter rope, and it buzzes to life.  It’s ear splitting in what had been a quiet forest.  James shoves his way into the boughs on the downhill side.  The pitch in the chainsaw noise drops as it starts to cut.  I can see the sawdust flying out of the branches.  The tree is vibrating violently.  He shifts to the uphill side of the trunk.  Then it starts to lay down, almost gently.  James steps out of the boughs and guides the tree all the way to the ground.  He lets the chainsaw sputter off.  “Ta dah!” he grins.  “One Christmas tree!”  He moves to the work area and puts the chainsaw down.  “Now,” he pulls me to him, “to get it home.”  He gives me a quick kiss.

It took us some time to lash the tree up so that the branches were all pointed to the top of the tree.  The smell of fresh pine fills my nose.  James makes a couple of loops around the lower branches to make pulling the tree a little easier.  I carry the chainsaw case and toolbox.  Watching him makes me smile. “What?” he chuffs.

“You look like a woodsman.”

“Why thank you!”

I just smile at him. 

We pass the big stump where we’d taken a break.  There were a couple of times when the rope around our tree gets snarled up in bushes that I work free.  Finally, the ATV comes into view.  James drops the tree next to the rig, panting.  I’m not far behind, breathing just as hard.  “That’s a work out.”

His hands on his knees, “No shit.” 

My little plastic gloves are all sticky with pine sap, so I tug them off and stuff them into the sweatshirt pocket.  I pull open the cooler and hand him a Squeezed to Death can.  He chugs a good portion of it.  He hands me the can and I finish it.  Putting the empty can back into the cooler, “How does the tree go on the ATV?” as I look between the two.

James smiles, “It kinda gets drug behind it.”  He goes to a nearby fallen log and reaches under it.  He pulls out two long poles.  “I keep these here” he grins.  They have been drilled with a huge bolt through one end.  This bolt James attaches to the cargo basket.  About halfway down the poles is another shorter one that James positions across them.  They now look like a huge capital A bolted to the cargo rack.  Grabbing the tree, James positions it on that cross bar between the two long ones, top of the tree between his feet.  Seeing what he’s going to do, I go hold the tree while he finishes tying it in place.  He drops an arm around my shoulders, “You might have to snug up close to me.”

Wrapping an arm around his waist, “That’s not a problem!”  I brush the pine needles and sawdust from his hair.

He kisses my hair, “Sandwich time.  I’m starving.”

Sitting on the ground, we eat the sandwiches, granola bars with the chocolate bars after.  The last cans of Squeezed to Death are finished and tossed back into the cooler with the other wrappings.  James straps the chainsaw and the cooler back in place.  “Ready?”

Standing up and brushing off my butt, “Yup.”  He helps me onto the ATV seat and makes sure that my helmet is secure. 

“I might have to stand up on the trip back.  Put your hands here” he takes my hand and puts them on the cargo post, “and lean back.”

“ok.”

He gives me a kiss, puts his own helmet on, straddling the machine he powers it on.  He nods at me, I grab the cargo post.  He slowly starts moving the machine and watching the towing poles.  Since he’s not sitting, I have to hold on tightly to the cargo rack posts.  The trip back was much slower than the trip up.  We pull into the driveway just as the sun is setting.  Powering off the big machine, James sits between my knees and pulls off his helmet.  I pull mine off.  I can tell he’s exhausted.  He gets off the ATV, helps me off and opens the garage door.  I pull off the cooler, toolbox and chainsaw case.  As I walk toward the garage, he stops me and kisses me.  Although he’s exhausted, I can tell he’s happy.  I set the items on his workbench in the garage.  He digs out a huge tree stand from the garage shelves.  I help him get the stand onto the trunk.  He stands the tree up in the middle of the driveway and pulls the ropes off.  The branches spring open.  James grabs the garden hose and sprays down the tree thoroughly.  Tons of dust and dirt fly out of the branches.  He puts the hose back and stands behind me, his hands on my waist.  “It’s gonna be a pretty tree.”  He pulls me towards the garage door.

“You’re just going to leave it there?”

He huffs a gentle laugh, “Well, yeah, city girl.  Right now, it’s dripping wet.  It’ll get sprayed down again tomorrow morning.  Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll bring it in.”

“Why spray it down?”

He runs his fingers over my neck lightly “To get the creepy crawlers out of it!”

I squeak at his fingers.  “Spray it all you want!”  I bat his fingers from my neck, “You know I hate spiders!”

“And that’s such a disappointment for Kirk” he sighs dramatically.

“I’m not interested in Kirk” as I grab his ass.

He grabs my waist, “Good!” pulling me into a deep kiss.

I look into his eyes as we part the kiss.  They are almost glowing. 

He looks at the ATV, “I should put that in the garage.”

“C’mon.  I’ll help.”

He undoes the towing poles and I lay them down between his truck and my Shelby.  He pushes the ATV in the garage far enough so that the door will close. 

Once inside, I take his hand and lead him upstairs to our bathroom.  I start the hot water filling the tub while he uses the toilet.  He comes out carrying his pants.  “That’s a look” I sigh.  He just smiles.  I help pull off the rest of his clothes.  “In” I point at the tub.  He slowly sinks into the hot water.  Taking off my clothes, I lob all our sticky dirties towards the laundry basket in the corner.  I grab a couple of towels and drop them on the floor at the end of the free-standing tub.  Kneeling on them, I dig my fingers into his shoulders and neck.  He groans sharply.  I take the warm water and let it flow from my hands over his shoulders.  I continue to give him a rub down until he’s not groaning as badly.  He grabs my left hand and pulls me to the side of the tub and pulling a little harder on my wrist, I step into the tub sinking down between his legs.  He pulls my back into his chest wrapping both arms around me, his hands cupping my breasts.

“That was fun today” he breaths into my hair.

“I did enjoy that.”  I lift his right hand and kiss his thumb joint where it joins his hand, sucking softly on the tender skin tattooed with his barbed M there.  He just moans softly.  I pull his right hand to my chest.  My left hand gently caresses his neck and shoulder.  His breathing evens out.  I just smile and let him snooze a bit.  The water gets a bit chilly, “Hey, c’mon” I say gently.  He sniffs deeply, stirring awake.  Exiting the tub, I grab a towel and quickly dry off.  He stands up and steps out of the tub.  I take the other towel and dry his back, then he takes the towel and dries the rest of himself off while I drain the tub.  I take his hand and lead him out of the bathroom, tossing both towels on the counter and flipping off the light.  I flip back the covers on the bed and gently push him in, climbing in next to him.  He pulls me to his side.  I flip the covers up over us.  He’s asleep before I can get the lights turned off.  I curl up next to him, my head on his chest. 

I fall asleep listing to his steady heartbeat.

[skullytotheark]

Hi Hi!

I don't usually share my art here BUT lately i've been growing more comfortable w/ ppl seeing my art [as u can tell w/ latest creepyhornets entry]

So I wanted to share My some drawings i did for my fanfic series!

Click more for Art!

[i have alot of readmores on my post so i can navigate my account easier LOL]

Tobias Rogers / "The Colorado Axeman"

Age: 19 [current/present age in fanfic]

As you may remember from the last time i shared his design, His jacket is heavily inspired by the reboot buttt I did eventually change it to better fit his 'colour pallet' [or colours i associate toby with heavily]. Now having a slight 'foresty' colour pallet associated with him in this canon

Lore:

At this stage Toby is struggling alot w/ his own thoughts on Slender to the point he regrets Becoming a proxy in the first place. After returning to his old burnt down house Toby finds a old metal box that contained his sister's jacket. To this day Toby wears the jacket as asort of comfort and kinda like a pass me down jacket as memories of once were begin to haunt him, Along with 'unsuspected guests"

Age 16 / year one proxy: [Past Toby]

For a very good while i've been struggling w/ a 'year one' toby design but within time the og hoodie grew on me, So i gave him the og hoodie but I removed the blue hood. As you may know, Toby was much younger when he became a proxy in my au. Spending most of his time homeschooled within a tense household

Lore:

At this stage Toby had just killed his father and narrowly escaped, Unknowing hypnotized Toby believes that he owes Slender his LIFE to the point he's willing to serve Slender with every order.

Chernabog / 'Eyeless Jack'

Ever since Chernabog joined Slender as a proxy or servants of sorts. Chernabog or better known as eyeless jack dawns a somewhat iconic / original inspired design. A black jumpsuit along with a balaclava underneath his iconic mask [also i'm still VERY new to drawing plus size characters [im also kinda proud how it came out] and kinda hc him to be slighty plus size. Mostly cuz i wanted him to have a unique silhouette comapired to other characters. That and I also think it'd add to intimidation if you just see this 6'7 silhouette in the darkness watching you]

Lore:

Some time after agreeing to work for the Operator / Slenderman, Chernabog better known as Eyeless Jack. Roams inbetween towns collecting fresh meat not only for the Operator but for himself with his new boss's permission.

I know you've probably seen this but I really like how this came out for being a slightly rushed doodle, Featuring The Operator and my Oc Grimace! Grimace has his own little entry into my fanfic series and will have entries featuring him every now and then!

The Idea for The Operator's design in my au is kinda to be more tree like! In this image the tentacles Slender is known for comes from the roots at the base of his feet [at his feet?? I mean idk if he has feet or not at this current point. I mean he might] he also appears somewhat statue and organic like, As if a human was kinda made from bark, roots and what not. I also just really love drawing Slender like this it's funny

--

That's all I think i can share for Creepyhornets so far But i've been really happy with how some of these drawings are coming out. I dont say it much but i'm extremely proud of the process i've made with this year even though i only just started spending time on practicing how to draw. If I showed u before & after of my art you'd def see alot of progress

Anyway that's all for this post! I'll try to draw some more creepyhornets related stuff eventually! Hopefully draw more of these two since I'm happy with how they came out with my latest drawings

[astriiformes]

Hey Nate I have a completely random question, and as iirc you are the resident ex-Coloradan, I'd like your opinion if you wouldn't mind giving it. I've got a small town I'm putting in a horror story. It's up a mountain, it's in the woods, it's on a reasonably sizeable lake (big enough to host what they call a regatta every summer), and about half the population are people who own cabins in the summer village on that lake while the other half are year-round residents who resent that many of the cabins are nicer than their houses but rely on the tourism dollars from the summer village. Is this a place I could plausibly put in Colorado? Thanks!

I think this could conceivably work! The one element that gave me momentary pause is the lake being big enough for a regatta, but after a bit of snooping to confirm my suspicions, there are definitely mountain reservoirs in the Rockies that could fulfill that requirement. Fewer natural lakes that large though, which might be something to think about as you're considering the history of the area.

Another thing to account for would be the winter tourists, since a huge part of the mountains' economy in Colorado relies on skiing and snowboarding. I think some of the resentfulness you're looking for could still work, since I'm pretty sure a lot of the folks wealthy enough to own vacation cabins in the mountains are only heading up for brief ski trips and dipping out any time it looks like there will be a real snowstorm, but a lot of those wealthy residents are probably skiiers or snowboarders, and if the town is anywhere near one of the major ski resorts (which seems likely, if it has a significant tourist economy), they might actually be up there with some frequency in the winter.

I will offer you a last fun bit of Colorado mountain parlance if you're thinking about writing something set there -- folks our west will commonly refer to the mountains over 14,000 ft as "Fourteeners," and Colorado has more of them than any other state (over 50)!

[orcelito]

Hello would love to see your knife collection if you’re down to share them 🥺

Yesssssssssssss I love my knife collection 🙏🙏🙏🙏 can't exactly easily take a pic of them all together rn bc that'd take too much time, but I can share some posts I've made of my collection

Here's the last time I took a group pic of them all ^ it's outdated tho and it's missing a few pieces.

Here's the cool shits I got in Tennessee last summer ^ love the damascus. The switch blade is so fun to play with. Haven't fucked around much with the butterfly knife yet tho.

Here's one of my favorite knives ^ beautiful butterfly design pocket knife. Feels so good in the hand. I keep it in my bag.

Here's some throwing stars I bought in Estes Park in Colorado, the place The Shining was filmed. (I did not visit that hotel lol but I did catch a glimpse of it!). I'd flown over and I only had a carry on bag so I had someone mail them to me hfkshfkd also this was literally like a month or two after indiana legalized throwing stars. Hilarious story all around.

Here's the cute little leaf knife my sister gave me that I accidentally smuggled onto Two planes during the aforementioned Colorado trip. I forgot it was in my bag </3 but bc it looks like a leaf when closed, they didn't realize it was a knife. And I only realized I did this Afterwards, when I was unpacking my bag. Whoops! This is nowhere near the only time I've accidentally smuggled knives through security checkpoints (did it again just yesterday, in fact!) but theyre definitely a lot more strict about this stuff at airports. So it's a special kind of Whoops. Oh well it ended up fine

Andddddd here's a nonbinary knife that is currently still missing. Idk it's somewhere. I'll find it eventually.

I think there's also another damascus pocket knife I dont know the location of. I also bought another knife in the Tennessee trip that has my last name on it (bc of sentimentality) so I haven't shared pics of it. It's nice tho. I also have At Least 2 knives I got from my dad's house... maybe more??? Idk a lot of things were grabbed and it's been a few months. I need to go thru my shit I got from him lol. Oh I also got an axe thing from him. And a sawblade. Fun stuff!!!

I ALSO...

Bought this historical sword from a thrift shop. It's from uhhh oh yeah The Knights of Pythias. Symbol of the peace lily + FCB for Friendship, Charity, and Benevolence. Overall an organization with a purpose to promote peace. Did a lil research when I first got the sword, though I don't know Too much. Someday I wanna go digging to see if I can find record of the previous owner of this sword, Charles W Stephens (you can see it on the blade in the last pic). That day is not today tho lol.

Anyways yeah that's my knives collection as far as I can remember it rn 🤔🤔🤔 might have forgotten some. As u can probably tell, I have A Lot of knives. Not uncommon for me to lose track of a few every now and then hfkshfkd

EDIT: I FORGOT.. like 4 knives. I also have 2 necklace knives. One is a lil pocket knife and the other is a mini dagger in a sheath. Then there's uhh another dagger. And MAYBE a 4th knife. I don't remember. I really should formally add those to the collection at some point. They've just been in the dubious "I'll put those away eventually" territory so I haven't even taken pictures of them hfkshdjd but trust me they exist I prommy. I use the dagger necklace in my kitchen sometimes for opening packages. Idk it's just hanging out there. And it's beautifully sharp and wonderfully easy to access. If it weren't so heavy on the chain I'd consider wearing it more often.

[dying-brb]

desolation / an ellie x f!oc fanfiction / tlou universe

!slowburn !angst !subreader !domellie !fluff

tw: this is a heavy fic. mentions of sa, violence, gore, etc. 18+

(oc starts off 14 but only for backstory)

click if you haven't read chapter 2

chapter 3

word count: 2112

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ 3 - there is no light ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

april 2034 - 4 months after fleeing the cannibals  - Midway, Utah

I recognized the severity of my illness from the way my body throbbed with pain. Alternating waves of heat and cold wracked me with tremors. Soon, I would have to venture out, searching for antibiotics and remedies for the side effects, perhaps stopping at a gas station or pharmacy along the route to Salt Lake City, where the rumored Firefly base awaited.

I had taken refuge in a modest house nestled within a bustling neighborhood. My goal was inconspicuousness; the larger the neighborhood, the safer I felt. Alongside this new sanctuary, I kept the horse I had liberated from the cannibals, aware she must have had a name before I found her, though uncertain what it was. So, I decided on 'Luna,' a tribute to the full moon we escaped under that night. Luna stayed in the garage of the house—a makeshift stable. Over the months, I grew deeply attached to her. Developing such connections was something I had tried to avoid, but prolonged solitude made it inevitable.

Staying in a big neighborhood also meant constant vigilance during every waking hour of my stay. Such populous areas were almost certainly teeming with Infected. Prior to settling in, I meticulously cleared the three neighboring houses on each side of my temporary sanctuary.

As the illness set in, a cold sweat covered my body. I hadn't been able to keep down what little food I scavenged from the abandoned houses. The abundance of houses suggested there should have been more provisions for survival, confirming FEDRA had long cleared this neighborhood of anything of use.

Thoughts of FEDRA sparked memories of the Fireflies, urging me to prepare for the road ahead. Marlene's urgent plea resonated deeply; she didn't just want me to reach the base in Utah, she needed it. She had entrusted me with a staggering responsibility: I was supposedly 'the world's last hope,' It felt surreal, almost like a cruel joke. I, Natalie Carter, surviving against all odds—nearly torn apart by Infected, nearly butchered and eaten by my own kind, nearly beaten to death—was now considered the last hope.

I couldn't shake the thought that a couple more soldiers beside me might have hastened our journey to Salt Lake City, perhaps bringing me to the Fireflies much sooner. The two men she had sent with me on this expedition had died, long before my unfortunate resort stay in Colorado.

We had been taking shelter in an abandoned Motel 6, when we were ambushed by Stalkers.  One was bitten, and the other inadvertently inhaled spores while trying to save his companion, shooting the attacking Stalker and alerting a nearby Bloater in the process. Together, we managed to bring down the Bloater, but not without cost. I watched helplessly as the toxins from its corpse filled the air, and he instinctively took a deep breath, drawing the lethal spores into his lungs.

"No.. wait, no! I didn't know I-" The sound of his words had been cut off by coughing and choking, spluttering over his words.

"Kill—" He heaved, grasping his chest and gagging on the air that flowed into his lungs. "Me," he pleaded, reaching out towards me, his eyes desperate for relief. And so, I granted it.

That night marked my second encounter with spores, surviving without infection once more. The sensation was similar to inhaling dust in an old antique shop—thick, musky, a faint tickle in my throat, nothing more. The only thing I hadn't encountered yet was a bite from the infected. I assumed that they were one in the same, as far as infection went. My journey alone started that day the two soldiers died, only 4 weeks before my encounter with David.

I decided to resume my journey, motivated by the urgency to find painkillers and antibiotics before the illness left me immobile. Once treated, I planned to seek shelter again. I gathered any useful belongings from the house, leaving no room for non-essentials—except my sketchbook. That was the one thing I allowed to take up a bit too much space. It held my sanity, after all.

"Here, Luna." I spoke gently,  giving her a gentle pat before leading her out of the garage. I swiftly mounted her saddle, unzipping my backpack to check its contents.

Weapons, check. Food, minimal but adequate, check. Clothes—ugh, they smell awful, but check.

God, I could really use a shower. Not-check.

The holster on my right leg housed my Beretta 92 pistol, with a trusty pocketknife always in my.. well, you guessed it—pocket. Slung across my back was the rifle I had taken from the body of the Firefly soldier I mercy-killed; in a way, he was still aiding me.

With determination, I began my trek, unfolding my map to chart the path ahead.

"Only 44 miles left," I muttered, breathing out heavily. It didn't seem like much compared to the grueling 2300 miles I'd already covered. But in my weakened state—sick and tired—it felt like a much longer journey. I nudged Luna's side, signaling her to move forward. She responded by starting with a walk and then picking up speed as I encouraged her with gentle pats.

"Go on, Luna," I urged, coaxing her to quicken her pace. I worried about her; with our limited supplies, keeping a horse of her size alive was a challenge. Despite this, she managed to graze on the abundant grass that covered our path in this overgrown world we now called home. Water, however, was scarce—a precious resource. I made a mental note that at our next stop for supplies, ensuring Luna had access to water would be a top priority.

—

2 days later - Granite, Utah - 18 miles from Salt Lake City

Luna grew too weary to press on, likely due to dehydration.

I regretted pushing her forward when she clearly needed a break. Realizing her well-being was at-risk, I chose to prioritize rest for the night rather than risk losing her and being forced to continue on foot.

During our journey, I stumbled upon a liter bottle of water, along with old but effective antibiotics and Ibuprofen at the nearest pharmacy along our route—a discovery that nearly brought tears to my eyes. Recognizing Luna's thirst and exhaustion, I gave her most of the water. An empty bucket attached to her saddle served as a makeshift water trough on the go.

We settled for the night in a cabin on the edge of the roads we had been traveling down. A lone Runner was lingering at the cabin's perimeter when we arrived, I shushed Luna, petting her reassuringly so she didn't make any noise. Thankfully, the Runner was the only threat. I snuck up behind the creature and killed it quietly with my pocketknife to avoid alerting any other nearby infected by using a gun.

I secured Luna to a sturdy post outside before I crept inside the cabin. It was very small, cramped and littered with old furniture and cobwebs, but I didn't mind. It was just a place to sleep for the night, and the smaller the shelter, the easier it would be to clear of Infected. There were none inside. Safety, at last. I breathed a sigh of relief, my tense shoulders finally settling as I climbed up to the cabin's loft. I laid my jacket on the old bed, creating a barrier between the dirty mattress and myself. Sleep found me easily.

The morning dawned with determination. After a restful night and a meager meal of canned green beans, I felt rejuvenated and eager to reach Salt Lake City, now a mere 18 miles away. A mix of excitement and nervous anticipation trembled through my body.

I felt like my destiny was right in front of me, that maybe, just maybe I could make a difference in this world. With Luna looking much better, we resumed our journey. This would be the final day of our travels; tonight, I would find the Fireflies. A small smile touched my lips. All the pain, suffering, and torment I had endured would finally mean something.

—

Marlene told me the Fireflies would find me when I reached Salt Lake City, but as I walked the streets with Luna, searching for any sign of them, there was no one in sight. Recently abandoned army trucks were scattered across the road, and duffel bags filled with weapons and ammunition lay untouched. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I followed the path lined with other deserted vehicles, which led me to Saint Mary's Hospital.

—

May, 2034 - Salt Lake City, Utah - Saint Mary's Hospital

Everyone was dead.

I paced through the hospital halls, nausea rising in my stomach. My hands found my head in disbelief, my breaths quickening with panic. Dozens of Firefly soldiers lay dead in every corridor. Shot, stabbed, mangled. A cry escaped my lips as I searched desperately for any signs of life, but deep down, I knew there were none. Denial was the only thing driving me forward. My feet felt numb as I forced my legs to move, dragging them in what felt like slow motion, completely dissociated—until I stepped on something. Someone. Marlene. I fell to my knees, my hands hovering over her lifeless body.

"No, no, no!" I sobbed, hugging her as pained whimpers escaped my lips. Her cold skin touched mine, and my blood ran cold. My last hope, the one thing that kept me going, dissolved before me. The Fireflies were gone. Marlene was dead, and I was all alone. Still all alone after all this time. My cries of despair turned to a screaming rage, my tormented expression hardened, and my fists clenched at my sides.

I stood up, anger boiling inside me. I had to find out who did this, who destroyed my last chance at redemption, happiness, salvation. I searched endlessly through the hospital rooms and among the dead soldiers, looking for any clue about what had happened.

I came across a small doctor's office, medical papers strewn everywhere. Brain scans, MRI and X-ray images, photos of a bite mark, and piles of medical journals lay on the desk. My hands shook as I picked up the paper with the bite mark image.

The growth has clearly mutated. Let's see if the test results corroborate our theory. This is big.

The anger building in my chest was transforming into something new: betrayal. Marlene had told me I was the only immune person she knew of, that I was civilization's last hope. She lied to me, sending me on a suicide mission while there was someone else who shared my 'uniqueness,' as she had said. I swallowed my emotions and continued searching the papers, desperate for answers.

I found myself walking into the next room, which appeared to be an operating room. As I entered, I spotted a dried pool of blood on the floor—old, but no more than a few weeks. Whatever body had lain here before had been moved, unlike the soldiers scattered throughout the halls. With a burning question about what had happened here, I searched the operating room for more clues.

A duffle bag with a Firefly symbol lay on the floor. I fell to my knees, weakly unzipping it and searching inside. A tape recorder sat atop some old clothes and supplies. My hands trembled as I picked it up and pressed the play button. A woman's voice spoke:

Most people have left already. I don't know which group I'm going to join... I was one of the ones that wanted to go after the smuggler, Joel and the girl, Ellie. They said... Even if we found her, or by some miracle found someone else that's immune, it'd make no difference. 'Cause the only person who can develop a vaccine is dead.

I presumed Ellie was the other immune girl, and if the Fireflies wanted to go after them, that left Joel as the one who had stolen my purpose. My fists tightened as fury bubbled inside me. How could another immune person allow something like this to happen? How could she be so selfish? I would have sacrificed everything for the cause without hesitation. Confusion and resentment clouded my thoughts as I wrestled with the betrayal.

Images of Joel and Ellie filled my mind, fueling a determination that bordered on obsession. I couldn't bear the thought of them, thriving while the Fireflies lay in ruins. They had dismantled my purpose, and I vowed to reclaim it with every fiber of my being.

"Joel, Ellie..." I muttered through gritted teeth, "I'll find you, and I'll make you pay."

[ahonice]

Until Now

Until Now

Cale Makar x Reader x Tyson Jost

Warnings: drinking, toxic relationships, some sexual scenes but no actual smut (ok maybe a little smut, depends on what you define it as).

WC: 11k (got a little carried away sorry babes)

*Some things might not actually match up to the real life timeline and something just straight up never happened, this is a work of fiction.*

*March 15th 2022*

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so upset.”

That phrase only made you more upset. Tyson had just found out he was being traded a couple hours before and he immediately began packing his things, and yours.

“Tyson I cannot just pick up my life and move across the country. My friends are here, my family is here, I have a job that I love here, I am not leaving.” 

“If any of the other guys were traded their partners wouldn’t have to think twice about going with them. Why do you have to be so difficult? Quit your job, I can provide for the two of us, and we can come back to visit during the holidays. All I want is my girlfriend and for us to be there for each other.”

“No, what you want is a trophy wife and I will not be that. This is over Tyson, thanks for the headstart on packing my shit. I’ll be back in the morning to get all my stuff.”

***

You had plenty of options of where to stay overnight, plenty of them having no ties with Tyson or any of the Avalanche players for that matter, but you still found yourself at Cale’s front door. After knocking and getting no answer you began heading towards the stairwell but the sound of a door opening stopped you.

“Y/n? What are you doing here? It's late, come in.” 

“He is getting traded.”

“I know, it’s so unfortunate, I’m gonna miss him.”

Cale didn’t just assume you were leaving your life in Colorado behind, you appreciated that.

“We broke up. He wanted me to just drop everything and follow him like I’m some sad little puppy who can’t function without its owner.” 

“Oh. Well, do you need somewhere to stay tonight?”

Yes. “No. Just wanted a friend to talk to, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now.”

And that is what Cale was that night, a friend for you to talk to, as well as a friend who did not let you leave once the both of you realized it was almost 3am and gave you his guest bed to sleep on.

 ***

You had called out of work on your way to Cale’s last night knowing you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to teach rambunctious high school students about whichever history course of yours they were enrolled into. 

Walking out of the guest room you were met with an empty apartment, which was to be expected as the Avalanche had a practice scheduled at this time. I cleaned up any mess I made in the guest bedroom and tidied up around the living room, texting Cale a thank you for everything before slipping out of his apartment and heading over to yours.

***

“Where did you go last night? None of your friends could tell me where you were, I was worried sick.”

The first words to come out of Tyson’s mouth upset you more than they probably should’ve.

“I’m not yours to worry about anymore Tyson.”

You walked towards the bedroom without another word, more rage blinded you as you saw all of your things Tyson had previously packed now out of their boxes and put back where they used to belong. 

Before you were able to yell out towards your ex you felt a presence at the door.

“I’m not breaking the lease, this is where you live too. I’m not just gonna leave you with nowhere to stay, I’m not that cruel.” 

“I can’t afford this place by myself, you know that.”

It was true, while you loved your job, you were still a public school teacher in a very underfunded school district. Tyson always offered to just cover all of the rent, but ended up settling for a 70/30 split rent, you insisted on helping out even if it was the smallest amount of money. 

“I know, I paid for the next three months in advance. If you plan on moving out please just wait three months, I know you don’t like money wasted.”

“Tyson, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He trailed off realizing the time. “I should go, I have a flight to catch.”

You nodded, sniffling. You don’t know when you teared up, but they were now clouding your vision. 

“Baby, please don’t cry. I know we aren’t together anymore, but I don’t want to lose contact with you. Please reach out to me, I know I will reach out to you.”

“What about Cleo?” 

Cleo, the cat you two had together, had never been Tyson’s biggest fan. You liked to blame it on her not liking men, but Tyson always fired back with a “She loves Cale.” That was true, she loved Cale, probably more than she loved you.

“She can stay here with you, she would probably run away if I took her.”

You laughed at his statement.

“She would miss Cale too much anyways. “ You joked. “Thank you.”

“Of course, you know she loves you more than me.”

“No Tys, thank you for everything. These past three years have been amazing, I love you.”

“I love you too Y/n.” His phone ringing interrupted him. “I really need to go, my uber is here. Don’t be a stranger Y/n, I expect to be hearing from you.”

***

*April 11th 2022*

Tyson definitely reached out more than you did, but he still got the occasional message from you with an update on Cleo or something that happened to you during work that day. He did get a picture of you in the jersey he sent just days after he moved out, the green material and the number 10 feeling foreign on you, having never worn anything with “JOST” on it that wasn’t navy or maroon. 

Almost a month later you sat in your apartment watching the Wild game, wearing Tyson’s jersey cuddled up with Cleo, who you had somehow gotten to wear the Wild bandana Tyson sent a few days ago, sending him a selfie of the two of you with a text message right after saying, “Rooting from you, Cleo isn’t suffering in that bandana for you to lose the game!” 

A knock on your door interrupted the trance you had been in while watching the game, your first plan to ignore whoever was at your door was abandoned as the person continued knocking, now almost banging on the door.

You cautiously opened the door, immediately fearing who or what could be behind that door.

“Hey.”

It was Cale.

“Hey Cale, what’s up.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while, just wanted to check in. You’ve been ignoring my messages and calls, I know because you’ve been ignoring everyone else.”

He has a right to sound as upset as he is. Cale, as well as all the rest of the Avalanche roster and their partners, have been given the cold shoulder ever since Tyson moved, but after almost two weeks of radio silence they had all seemed to give up, all but Cale.

“Look Cale I’m really sorry but I just couldn’t bring myself to be around his friends. Everything reminds me of him.”

“Is that why you’re wearing his jersey right now? To help get him off your mind?”

“Cale–”

The Canadian wouldn’t let you finish what you were gonna say.

“I’m taking you out to eat, I know you’re hungry. Go change.”

Cale always knew how to read you because you were starving. He made his way inside, shutting the door behind him and immediately making his way towards Cleo who was still laying on the couch. He pet her, quickly pulling off the Wild bandana she wore and making a mental note to buy her an Avalanche one.

“I can tell she has missed you. If you were anyone else she would be in my bedroom hiding.” You spoke, walking out of the bathroom is an old hoodie rather than Tyson’s jersey you were wearing just moments prior.

“I missed her too, did Tyson not want her?”

“No, he knows she doesn’t like him, she doesn’t like any men.” You spoke with a chuckle.

“She likes me.”

“That’s because you’re special Cale.”

He blushed as the two of you walked out, not even realizing you forgot your phone on the coffee table in the living room. A text from Tyson lighting up your phone reading, “I miss my girls, when I’m in Denver next can we meet for dinner?”

***

“There is no way that actually happened.” Cale laughed, nearly choking on his coffee. 

He had taken you to Waffle House as that was the only open that sounded somewhat appetizing, you had arrived nearly two hours before, the two of you getting lost in the conversation talking about anything and everything, which was now leading to the senior prank that was pulled last year.

“I swear, they took the tires off of the principal's car and placed them in the trophy display case.” 

“That is so funny, did they get in trouble?”

“Oh yea, they were suspended and weren’t allowed to walk at graduation, but I think it was worth it. It was hilarious.”

Soon the laughter faded out into a comfortable silence.

“We should probably head back, it’s almost 9pm. I’ve got work in the morning.” You said, even though you never wanted this night to end. 

***

Cale walked you up to your front door, claiming he wanted to see Cleo one more time.

“You know you can come see her whenever you want to? I’ll unmute your contact info, I was wrong to try and ignore you.”

“You had your reasons, but yes please do that. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You trailed off not knowing what to do, the tension in the air feeling all but friendly. Luckily the sound of your phone ringing cut through it, you quickly shuffled to where you had left your phone hours before. The screen lighting up with the name “Tyson 🤍” you never brought yourself to change his contact name. 

“It’s Tyson, tonight has been very fun. We should do it again soon, just message me whenever you're free.” Cale nodded, a quiet “Goodbye.” leaving his lips as he walked out the door.

You answered the phone, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in.

“Hey Tyson.”

“Where were you?” 

“Tys–”

“No! You haven’t answered me in hours, i know you couldn’t have been sleeping because you keep your ringer one so where were you? Are you okay?”

His last question did not match his angry tone at all.

“I was out with a friend and I left my phone in the apartment. Tyson you have no right to yell at me like that.”

“Y/n I was worried, am I not allowed to be worried about my girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. Tyson, if I have to remind you that we are broken up one more time I don’t think I can play along with this whole “friends” act. I am not yours to worry about anymore.”

“Fine.”

“Tyson please stop messaging me, it is for the best. We both need to move on, our relationship is over and there is nothing we can do to fix it. Agreeing to stay friends was a big mistake.”

“There is something that we can do to fix our relationship, you can come move out here with me. I still love you Y/n and I know you still love me. Leave your job, I found a private school twenty minutes away from the arena that needs teachers.”

“Would you just stop it Tyson! We are over. I'm not leaving my life in Denver, I am done having this conversation with you. Goodbye Tyson, please stop contacting me.”

“Wait no Y/n please–”

You hung up before Tyson could finish his sentence.

***

 The next day Tyson would not stop calling you, during the school day you had to turn your phone completely off because “do not disturb” wasn’t even helping. By the time you arrived back at your apartment you’d had enough.

“Enough Tyson! I told you to leave me alone I’m blocking you–”

“Woah put the claws away, it’s just me.”

Cale.

“Oh I’m sorry Cale, I thought Tyson was calling me again.”

“Is he bothering you? Because I can talk to him for you.”

“No Cale it’s nothing you want to get involved in I promise.”

“Do you wanna meet for a late dinner after my game is over?”

“Yea I’d love to, good luck tonight by the way.”

You could hear his smile over the phone as he suggested you wear one of his jerseys tonight.

“--and put Cleo in that new Avalanche bandana I sent you.”

“Will do Cale, but I should probably go. I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye Y/n,”

***

The knock on your door pulled you out of your trance, quickly lowering the volume on your speaker as you walked towards the door to answer it.

“Hey Cale, you can come in, just give me a second to change and grab my shoes.” 

“Ok, take your time.” His breathing stopped as he saw you turn around, his name and number branded on your back. He quickly walked towards the couch to take a seat, noting what songs were playing over your speakers so he could play it in the car.

“What artist is this?” He asks as you walk out of your bedroom, still in his jersey, but in jeans instead of the sleep shorts you were wearing when you answered the door.

“Harry Styles, he is one of my favorite singers ever.”

“Oh yea the one from that band, you went to see him in concert last year?”

You found it sweet that he remembered. Tyson had joined you at the concert but couldn’t even bother to learn the name of the artist, who you so lovingly adore. 

“Yea I did, it was one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to. I’ve been listening to him since he was in One Direction and I just love his music so much. I’ve begun collecting his merch, and I think I’m gonna start collecting his records. I don’t even have a record player though.” You looked up trying to catch your breath, “Sorry I didn’t mean to ramble, I don’t mean to annoy you.” You spoke looking down again, a blush forming on your cheeks.

Cale gently grabbed your chin, making me look up at him, “You don’t need to be sorry, I don’t think you realize how adorable it is when you’re talking about something you love.” 

“Be careful, if someone else heard you say that they might think you’re flirting with me.” You chuckled out.

“Well they would be correct.” Cale paused for a moment “We should go, I don’t know how busy Waffle House is going to be right now.” He finished while walking out your door leaving you standing in your living room too stunned to move.

“Did he actually just say that?”

“Yes I did, can we go now? I’m hungry.”

***

“Is everything ok? You’ve been silent all night.” Cale said. It was true, but he had just dropped a bomb on you.

“Did you mean what you said? That you were flirting with me? Do you actually not find it annoying when I talk? Because if you’re just here to pity me because of Tyson then just leave.” You blurted out, immediately embarrassed by your short rant.

“No Y/n, not at all. Nothing you could do would ever annoy me. Did Tyson ever make you feel that way? Because I will beat him up.”

“Cale, please, stop. Let's just forget about it, I don’t like talking about it.” 

“Ok, but please eat your food before I do. Somehow I’m still very hungry.

***

“Cale, we should probably head back, it’s almost 1am.”

“Oh my goodness I didn’t even realize how late it was getting, I just lose track of time when I’m with you.” Cale spoke while standing up and gathering his things, “-And I don’t mean that in a bad way, I really enjoy spending time with you.” 

“Thank you Cale, I appreciate you.” You said while following his actions. “I don’t think you realize how good it feels to hear those words, especially when the person saying them is being genuine.”

***

Cale knew there was something off about your relationship with Tyson, even before he had moved to Minnesota. The way you responded to compliments and criticisms spoke enough on how poorly Tyson had treated you, he wanted to make that right. He wanted you to accept compliments without arguing, and he wanted you to know that no criticism that was thrown your way would change the way he felt about you. Cale wanted you, he always had ever since the night he met you almost three years ago, the same night you met Tyson.

*May 9th 2019*

The Avalanche decided to celebrate their season coming to an end at a club in downtown Denver. That club just so happened to be where you were working as a bartender, the job you had while in college. 

“We better be making good tips tonight, these guys make like one million dollars a year.”

“Don’t be a bitch and that won’t be an issue.” You spoke laughing at your friend, Callie’s, reaction.

“Put your tits away Y/n.” She fires back while walking away to her side of the bar. You laugh while you finish preparing your side of the bar.

Soon enough it was time for the team to come up to the private floor, you had no idea how they would act. Would they be respectful? Would they be creepy? Either way you need to get those tips, college is expensive. 

“Y/n if you pull your tits out anymore i think you would flash them.” Callie said, fake judging you.

“I need money, and your ass is out Callie.”

“I also need money.” The two of you laughed but were quickly silenced by the sound of footsteps outside the door.

Your coworker led them inside and they all took seats, some at booths and some at the bar. You immediately began taking orders and working on drinks, trying to get everything done as quickly as possible as to have a little down time before the next rush of orders came through. After about 15 minutes the bar had died down and you were able to start talking, more gossiping than anything, with Callie. 

“That blonde with the red cheeks has not stopped staring at you, like not once has he even blinked.” Callie told you, not bothering to be quiet because no one was around, or so you had thought.

“I have also not taken my eyes off of you since I got here.” 

You and Callie quickly turned around to see a boy with curly brown hair.

“I’m Tyson by the way and you are?” Tyson gestured over towards you, making sure you knew who he was talking about. 

“I’m Y/n.” 

“And I’m Callie, not that either of you are acknowledging my existence right now.”

You giggled and apologized about your friend before falling into conversation with Tyson.

“So you aren’t old enough to drink, but you are old enough to be a bartender? How does that make sense.” 

“You have to be 18 to serve alcohol, 21 to drink alcohol. It’s just how this country works, you’re gonna have to get used to it Canada.”  

“I don’t mean to interrupt, well yeah I actually do, but Y/n you have a job to do that isn’t flirting with Tyson here.” Callie chimed in, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

“I am sorry but she is right, I have to get back to work. It was very nice meeting you though.” Tyson gave you a smile before you turned to take orders and make drinks for his teammates.

As you were making a drink someone sat down in the stool in front of you, the blonde Callie pointed out earlier who “hadn’t taken his eyes off you”. 

“Hey can I get you anything?” You asked, setting the whiskey sour down for the man who had ordered it.

“Do you have apple juice?” The blonde asked.

“I believe we do, would you like that with vodka? Or what do you want?” You asked back, a little confused because that wasn’t a question you were asked before.

“No, can I have just apple juice? I’m not old enough to drink and water is boring.” He said avoiding eye contact with you.

“Of course, just give me a second to find it.” You responded while looking around the bar for the bottle of apple juice. Handing the cup to him after you finished pouring it, he began asking about you and why you’re working as a bartender.

“Well I’m actually a student at The University of Denver and I work here for money to pay off my loan debt.” You told him. “I am a few days away from finishing my second year of school, so don’t worry about ordering apple juice, I would also have to order that if I were on the other side of this bar. I’m only 19.” 

“You aren’t allowed to drink alcohol, but you can make and serve alcoholic drinks? How does that make sense?” He asked you, almost baffled at the news you just told him.

“It confused me too Cale–” Another voice cut in, Tyson took the seat next to the boy who you have now been able to place a name on, Cale. “-Hello Y/n, it is nice to see you again. I was worried my teammates would steal you away from me for the rest of the night.” 

“Well they couldn’t even if they tried cause you would just interrupt them anyways.” You chirped at him, making it obvious that he just walked in on a conversation that you were really enjoying. 

“Alright well I was just gonna order another drink, and also was hoping to talk to you some more. Would it be ok if I joined in on you and Cale’s conversation Y/n?” He asked in a tone, knowing what your answer would be. 

“What would you like to drink Tyson?”

***

“Come on boys, they're closing.” A blonde man came up to grab both Cale and Tyson’s shoulders. They quickly nodded their heads towards the guy grinning at you with some of his teeth missing. Cale opened his mouth to say something, but Tyson had beat him to it.

“Can I get your number Y/n? I wanna take you out sometime.” A blush rose to your cheeks, you weren’t blind he was attractive and you would actually be stupid if you didn’t give it to him. So that’s what you did, not noticing the defeated look on Cale’s face. Tyson beat him by asking you out, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be your friend.

*May 2nd, 2022*

The first round of playoffs began tonight and you could tell Cale was nervous, but so were you. Not only for your friend, who so deserved to win the cup, but also at the fact that this was the first Avalanche game you would be attending since you and Tyson broke up as well as the first time you would even be speaking and seeing the other players and partners.

“Why don’t you wear my jersey tonight? I know you aren’t wearing your jacket so you’ll need something to wear.” Cale suggested, walking into your apartment already knowing you were struggling to pick out an outfit without even walking into your room. What he didn’t know was that you had your headphones on so you didn’t hear him come in or speak to you, Cale also didn’t know that you were only dressed in your underwear while rummaging through your closet. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as a crimson color crept up to his cheeks, sure he has seen you in a swimsuit before, but this was just different. He quickly turned around and tried to make his way out of your room unnoticed, tried to. He ran into your bedside table while walking out, causing your lamp to tumble over, and making you jump in reaction. Quickly whipping your head around and saw a very red Cale looking at the blue lace that covered your intimates, rubbing his neck in shame.

“Oh Cale, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in.” 

He was surprised at your tone, why weren’t you the littlest shocked at him seeing you basically naked, did you want him to see you like that? Were you into him like he was into you? He cut his own thoughts off.

“I’m so sorry, um I’ll just be in the living room waiting.” He spoke before basically running out of your room. You found it adorable how flustered he got, it was just some skin you didn’t really see the big deal.

You quickly got dressed in one of Cale’s jerseys and some black leather pants. Putting on some accessories and your signature perfume before walking into the living room and bending over to put on your booties, catching Cale staring at you once again. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to Cale, you always had been ever since the night you had met him. But nothing could ever happen, you were with Tyson, well you used to be. Cale was there for you whenever you needed it, he was everything you wanted in a partner. He was everything Tyson was and more. Maybe you did begin flirting with Cale a bit more noticeably a few weeks after the break up, but could anyone blame you it's Cale fucking Makar. 

“Ready to go?” you asked, turning to face him. He nodded in response quickly getting up, you could finally get a good look at his game day suit and god did he look good. Hiding the crush you had on him was getting harder and harder every moment. 

***

“Y/n! Ugh I have missed you so much!” Mel was quick to greet you once you stepped into the friends and family box. You had no idea how everyone would react to you attending an Avalanche game not as Tyson’s girlfriend, but as Cale’s friend. 

“Hey Mel, sorry I haven’t been in contact–” The captain's wife was quick to shut down your apologies.

“Don’t. I know it couldn’t have been easy to constantly surround yourself with things that remind you of him. I was a little surprised when Cale told us that you guys had been spending all your time together.” 

“Yea he has been a great support system for me, it feels nice to be friends with him again.”

It was known that after your relationship with Tyson had become something more serious, moving in together and getting a cat, that you and Cale had drifted apart from one another. He was your closest friend, you would’ve even considered him your best friend, but Tyson wasn’t a fan of the two of you. He claimed that he didn’t trust Cale because he had ulterior motives and didn’t just want to be your friend. 

“You’re not dating? Oh I’m sorry Gabe mentioned that you and Cale had been going on dates, I just assumed.” Your eyes widened at not only the assumption, but also at the bedazzled jean jacket with Cale’s name and number on it that was brought for you. You just shook your head at Mel’s apologies and took the jacket from her. “Maybe I’ll wear it to the next playoff game.” You told her with a fake smile on your face. Had you and Cale actually been going on dates without even realizing it? Did Cale think you were going on dates and you were the one in the dark about it?

***

You continued to attend all of the playoff games that took place in Denver and by the end of the first round it felt like you had never lost contact with everyone. They were kind enough to never mention Tyson in front of you, knowing it was still a hot topic and you appreciated that a lot more than they could ever know. You had to have Mel and Sydney stop you from texting Tyson, apologizing for the loss but also congratulating him on finishing the season with the Wild.

 With Cale being so busy you haven't been able to hang out with each other, but you’re still texting and calling whenever the both of you are available. Tonight was the first game of the second round and you were trying to figure out what to wear and that damn jean jacket was just staring at you from its spot in your closet.

 “It wouldn’t be horrible to wear it, I mean just because I’m wearing it doesn’t mean we’re together I’m just wearing a jacket, just like how I wear his jersey.” You spoke to yourself, an internal battle happening in your mind as you finally slipped the denim over your shoulders. 

“Do you still have my jean jacket?” A voice that was all too familiar to you spoke from the entryway of your room. Tyson. “You know you should probably stop keeping the front door unlocked, who knows what kind of weirdo could just walk in.”

You slowly turned around, tears welling in your eyes as you looked at the man who you had loved so much. His hair was grown out and he wasn’t clean shaven anymore, he looked different. 

“Tyson, what- um how- what are you doing here?” On any other occasion you would’ve been embarrassed by stumbling over your words but you were too shocked to care, the tears that had been settling in your eyes finally began falling as neither of you spoke, both keeping your eyes on each other scared that if you looked away that they would no longer be there.

His presence shouldn’t bother you this much, you shouldn’t allow him to bother you this much. 

“My season is over, I wanted to come down to support the team. They’re still my friends even if we aren’t on the same roster anymore.” He answered while walking towards you, him just being centimeters away from you by the end of his statement. 

“No, what are you doing here Tyson? Why are you in my apartment?” You ask softly, trying to hide yourself from him. You didn’t want Tyson to see you in such a vulnerable state. 

Tyson reaches up to gently grab your face, his thumbs wiping your tears away as he leans into your lips. As much as you wanted to fight him, and to not let him kiss you, you couldn’t stop yourself from falling into the kiss and wrapping my hands around him, managing to bring him closer to you. The kiss quickly deepens as you walk back towards your bed.

“I’ve missed you.” Tyson spoke in between kisses. His hands began roaming your body, but stopping as he touched the jewels that spelt out “MAKAR” on your back.

“I need you to take his name off of your back.” Tyson said, the jealousy was apparent in his voice.

Tyson knew that Cale always had a thing for you, he was horrible at hiding it. Tyson was never the biggest fan of you being friends with Cale, he didn’t trust the younger Canadian knowing that Cale had been in love with you since you met the both of them that night in May, Tyson had been too.

“Tyson, we need to stop this.” you said, pulling away from him. His lips chasing yours before letting out a sigh.

“Why? I am off of work all summer and so are you? Please can we just be together again? Be us again? I miss you so fucking much and I don’t know if I can keep doing this without you by my side. It was horrible after we broke up, I cannot function without you. Please Y/n, at least just consider going on a date with me? I’m in Denver for the next month and a half, I’m staying at a hotel.” Tyson rambled as you considered his words, you were doing horrible as well nothing Cale or any of your other friends could do or say was able to fully close up the hole in your heart that Tyson left you with.

“You can stay here, there is a guest room. No need for you to pay for a hotel room.” You whispered, shocking yourself with the offer. Him staying with you for almost two months would probably be one of the worst mistakes in your life, but you didn’t want him staying in a hotel, you knew how much he hated them.

“Y/n thank you, I hate-” Tyson started. “Staying in hotels. I know.” You finished.

“Can we skip the game please, go get some dinner and talk about everything. I think that is what we need, to just go over everything that happened and how we are feeling.” Tyson suggested to you, a little nervous that you would say no. 

Your heart spoke before your brain could, “Yea I think that would be what’s best for us moving forward.”

***

You quickly changed into a dress and some heels, Tyson changing into a dress shirt and slacks. He had made reservations for the two of you at your favorite Italian place before he had even got to your apartment because he knew you would say yes, you hated him for knowing you so well. You walked out after putting your favorite earrings on, the ones you haven’t worn since the last date you had gone on with Tyson.

“You’re wearing my earrings.” Tyson muttered so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. 

“They’re beautiful Tyson, of course I’m going to wear them. You also put a lot of thought into the gift, they mean a lot to me.” You were fully aware that Cale had gone out and bought your anniversary gift for Tyson because he had no idea what to get you, and Cale had seen you eyeing that pair of earrings every time you went window shopping with him, he even saw the tabs open on your computer once, one of them being the link to the online shop that sold those earrings. They were all you could’ve ever wanted as a gift, and Tyson didn’t even know that. 

“We should get going before we miss our reservations” He said standing up, ending the slight stare down the two of you were having, you wanted him to admit he didn’t get you those earrings but he never would. That was the biggest issue, your relationship was built on lies.

***

“Please be my girlfriend again” 

Tyson didn’t even wait for the hostess who showed you to your table to leave before speaking.

“Tyson–”

“Y/n I have been so miserable since you left me, I’m not eating, I’m not sleeping, my game has been complete shit. Without you I am nothing, I need you back. I fucked up, I know that, but please if you just give me a second chance I will be the loving boyfriend that you deserve. Please Y/n.” He pleaded, tears building up in his eyes. 

“Tyson, can we please just treat this like a normal date and discuss our future in private.” He nodded as you both quickly shoved your heads into the menu, even though you both knew what you would be getting already.

***

Dinner was filled with the two of you catching up, you telling him about the things you have been up to since he moved and him telling you about Minnesota and the team.

“Did you stay close with any of the players or their partners?” Tyson asked after your stories had stopped being shared. 

“No, the only one I talked to and saw on a regular basis was Cale. I kind of shut everyone out except for him after we broke up, but I’ve started to go to games again. Which reminds me I need to inform them that I’m alive and just missing the game tonight.” You said while pulling your phone out to see a few texts already.

From: Mel🏒❤️

Hey! Just wondering if you were dead or not lol.

From: Mel🏒❤️

I’m gonna assume you’re not coming tonight, hope everything is ok. Text me when you can.

From: Mel🏒❤️

Text Cale too. He is worried.

From: Makar🥰

Hey Y/n after the game tonight could you go down to the tunnels with Mel and Syd? I want to talk to you.

From: Makar🥰

Mel just told me you aren’t up in the box with them, are you gonna be late to the game?

From: Makar🥰

Is everything alright Y/n? It isn’t like you to ignore messages.

From: Makar🥰

Text me whenever you see this so I know you’re ok, I’m going out onto the ice now, I hope you’re watching from wherever you are.

You quickly typed a response to Mel’s texts.

To: Mel🏒❤️

Hey I’m alive. Tyson is in town, came by my apartment and now we’re at dinner discussing everything. Tell the girls I’m sorry I couldn’t make it and if Cale asks anything do not mention Tyson please, just tell him I’m sick and that I just needed rest.

From: Mel🏒❤️

Oh shit.

You chuckled lightly at the text before going into your conversation with Cale.

To: Makar🥰

I am so sorry Cale but I woke up super sick this morning and needed some rest, sorry I didn’t text earlier I’ve been sleeping all day. Good job on the game today! Cleo and I were rooting for you the whole time!❤️❤️

You sent the text congratulating him on the game even though it was only the 1st period, he probably wasn’t going to see it until after the game had ended.

“Everything ok?” Your head shot up, having forgotten about the real reason why you were not in attendance at the game the voice of your ex startled you.

“Yea I just had to text Mel quickly, what were we talking about?” You asked, placing your phone in your purse.

“How you just began attending Avalanche games recently.” He answered.

“Oh yea, I felt a bit awkward going after we broke up but Cale convinced me to go for the playoff games. The girls have been super nice about everything. I was scared they would hate me for having cut off our communication with them, but they said they understood why I did it.” You explained while playing with your food, a habit you displayed when you were nervous.

“So how is Cale?” Tyson's question shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did.

“Oh um he is great. He has had an amazing season, hasn’t he been texting you bragging about everything he has accomplished?”  You didn’t know if you should tell Tyson about how close the two of you had become in the two months he has been gone, afraid of his reaction. 

“Well he has blocked my number and all of my socials so the only updates I get on him are through the boys, but they usually just talk about the two of you when I ask about him. They say that the two of you have been going on dates and spend every night together, and that he asked for a playoff jacket to be made for you with his name and number on it. Is there something you’re not telling me Y/n?” 

With Tyson there is no trust, he gets extremely jealous and once he has the thought of you being with someone else he fixates on it and sees the guy as a threat. You would say his only threat is Cale. 

“Tyson, nothing is going on with me and Cale. We’re just friends, if you can’t trust me then why should I bother attempting to rekindle our relationship if you can’t trust me and my best friend.” You spoke, frustration clear in your tone. You could tell that you were making those around you uncomfortable so you proposed that the two of you pay the check and continue your conversation in a more private place, or just somewhere that wasn’t filled with happy couples.

***

“Are you sure nothing happened between you and Cale while I was gone.” Tyson asked for what felt like the 100th time, but it was probably just the third or fourth.

“Yes Tyson, for the last time nothing happened between us and nothing is happening between us right now. But if anything did happen you aren’t allowed to be upset, we are broken up. I can do and see whoever I want and so can you.” You basically yelled at the boy who sat on your couch.

“I don’t want to be with just anyone, I want to be with you Y/n. Am I not making that clear enough because I think I’ve said that plenty of times tonight.” Tyson yelled back. 

“Let's just calm down, I’m gonna go change, you can turn on the tv. Play the game or something.” You told him before turning to walk towards your bedroom. 

Once you’ve entered the room to search for a shirt to wear over your spandex, you saw one of Tyson’s Wild shirts sitting on top of your bed. One of your favorite habits of his, he always left a shirt out for you to change into after a night out. Contemplating whether or not you should put it on or just find another shirt to wear, you decide to just put on Tyson’s shirt thinking you’ve hurt his feelings enough for one night. 

Quickly putting some fuzzy socks on you walk out to the living room, freezing at the sight.

“I think she missed me.” Tyson was cuddled up with Cleo, she was wearing a jersey that had his number on it but the name said “DADDY” you were amazed at how he was able to get it on her as well as wondering where the hell he found a jersey that fits a cat.

“Please tell me you didn’t order a custom jersey for our cat.” You said trying to hide your laughter.

“I did, but don’t worry it's a jersey meant for a baby. I’m not that crazy to order a jersey made for a cat.” He responded, as Cleo went to lay on his chest.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” He gave you a fake glare before laughing and patting the spot next to him. “I can tell she misses you, I would find her cuddled up in your old dresser sometimes with some of the clothes you left here.” He smiled at that and situated himself and Cleo so that you could sit next to them. 

“The avalanche game ended, they won, now it’s just playing the highlights.” He whispered to you, your bodies so close that a volume louder would cause a headache. You nodded and focused on the tv, well tried to focus. You and Tyson had broken up 2 months ago, which meant it had been 2 months since you had sex, and god were you frustrated. Sure you had a vibrator, but nothing was gonna beat actual sex, especially sex with Tyson. Thinking about it made it worse, so you shifted on the couch uncomfortably, crossing your legs to try and relieve some of the tension in your body, before looking at the TV, which was showing a compilation of Cale’s three goals, he got a fucking hat trick and you weren’t there to see it. You quickly picked up your phone to send a text to him.

To: Makar🥰

Congratulations on your hat trick tonight!! I cannot believe I missed it, I am so sorry. I’ll be there for your next one though 😁❤️

“What does he want?” Tyson asked, annoyed while looking at the contact in your phone.

“I’m just congratulating him on his hat trick tonight, and apologizing for not being able to attend the game.” You answered with a sigh, leaning over the couch and setting your phone down on the table in front of you. Which gave Tyson a very nice view of your ass. Was it a horrible idea to sleep with your ex while he is trying to win you back, or just in general? Absolutely, but you don't care, you just need to have a release. You stayed bent over, deciding to text Mel just to try and get Tyson a little riled up. 

To: Mel🏒❤️

Girl I know this is a bad idea but I think I’m gonna sleep with Tyson😭 

To: Mel🏒❤️

I haven’t had an orgasm in two months, seriously if he doesn’t fuck me I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Wish me luck!! 

From: Mel🏒❤️

Get that dick babe!! 

From: Mel🏒❤️

But seriously the second he leaves Denver I’m setting you up with someone. This has to be a one time thing, you’re better off without him.

You smiled at the messages before turning your phone on do not disturb and setting it down, missing a message from Cale.

From: Makar🥰

Hey Y/n, I’m coming over to your place. Hope it’s ok because I’m almost there.

From: Makar🥰

I’m bringing soup and tea, I assume you’re asleep so I’ll just let myself  in.

Unaware that Cale was on his way you sat back down on the couch leaning your body onto Tyson’s. You hoped he would’ve picked up on your signals, but he just wrapped his arm around you and did nothing else.

“Tyson how many more signals  am I gonna have to give you until you fuck me.” You whispered in his ear, and that was it. 

His mouth instantly found yours, your tongues fighting for dominance as he grabs your hips to straddle his own. 

Soon the clothes were coming off, Tyson was in just his boxers as you were only in Tyson’s Wild shirt. The marks being left on your neck made the shape of a T, one of Tyson’s favorite things to do during sex, it claimed you as his. He began lifting your shirt up, not all the way, but just enough to be able to latch his mouth onto your nipple. So caught up in the moment, your moans and his grunts caused by your bare core grinding against his clothed one, you didn’t hear your front door unlock and the sound of footsteps entering your apartment. You did however hear the sound of soup hitting the floor, you felt it too. You yelped, catching Tyson’s attention whose first instinct was to protect you. He quickly pushed you onto the couch and moved up to cover you, he still didn’t know who had entered your apartment. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” Cale yelled towards your ex, your eyes widened as you tried to find your shorts, or anything to cover your exposed bottom half.

“I could ask you the same thing Makar.” Tyson asks, getting angrier by the moment. Cale having a key to your apartment, bringing you things thinking you were sick, and being protective over you did not sit well in Tyson’s stomach. You had spent the whole night trying to convince Tyson that nothing was going on between you and Cale and now all that work was out the window. 

“I knew it, I fucking knew there was something going on between you two. Y/n tried to tell me that nothing was happening but I’ve always known you loved her, you never got over her even after you lost her to me.” Tyson spoke venomously.

“Fuck you Tyson, and you Y/n–” Cale pointed at you. “I’m really disappointed in you. After all this time trying to get over him you just fell back into his trap. Was this your plan all along? To string me along and get my hopes up and then break my heart, because if so you accomplished it. Whore.” That's when Tyson swung and tears welled in your eyes. Cale regained his balance as a face of guilt washed over him, but he left before you could say anything to him or he could say anything to you. 

You quickly got up finding your spandex and put them on before running out the front door to chase after Cale. 

“Where are you going? Are you seriously chasing after him? He just called you a whore.” Tyson yelled as you made your way to the hallway.

“He’s my best friend.” you whispered back towards him, not even thinking he had heard it, but Tyson nodded at you as a way to tell you to go after him.

***

Luckily Cale lived in the same building as you so all you had to do was go up the stairwell to get his floor, but he had some leg and speed advantage on you, as well as a head start because you couldn’t get your damn shorts on, so Cale’s door was shut. 

“Cale open the door.” You said while knocking, more like pounding, on the door. “-Please.” You were met with silence as you continued to beg to be let in. Eventually your legs got tired and you began sliding your back down the door, the tears you had been holding back finally slipping free as you lost control of your breathing. 

“Cale, please.” Your voice was barely there, he wouldn’t be able to hear you unless he was at the other side of the door. “I’m so sorry.” Even if Cale was on the other side of the door your weeps were enough to make the words coming out of your mouth sound like a foreign language.

You continued to cry until you heard the door to the stairwell open.

“Come on Y/n, we have to go. You need to go to bed.” Tyson tried to coax you into coming back to your apartment but you weren’t having it.

“NO TYSON-” you shouted. “-I fucked up ok. I need to make it right, he is my best friend and I cannot leave or go to sleep until I have talked to him.” Your words grew quieter as a new wave of tears washed over you. 

“Baby…” he trailed off before walking over to you, “Let's go Y/n. He doesn’t wanna talk to you right now, you can try again tomorrow. Just give him some space. Come on love, I’ve got you.” Tyson picked you up bridal style, too tired to care you wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest, almost immediately falling asleep. Neither you or Tyson heard Cale’s door open or the faint “Y/n.” that left his lips.

***

“Wait so Cale walked in on you and Tyson doing it and called you a whore? What a fucking dick, why does he think he has the right to just enter your apartment and get upset at what he sees.” Mel exclaimed.

You had asked her to meet you for coffee so you could debrief what had happened the night before.

“Mel, I don’t think you’re focusing on the thing I want you to.” you sighed “he told me that I strung him along and broke his heart, do you think he likes me?” 

“Sweetie, is the sky blue? Cale has liked you ever since the night he met you, that same night you met Tyson.” Mel said, laughing shortly after because of your reaction.

“I need to go, I need to talk to him.” You said rushing out the door.

“Good luck Y/n!” You sent a smile before sprinting to your apartment.

***

Luckily the coffee shop was less than a mile away from your complex so you got there quite quickly. Not wanting to deal with the shitty elevator you took the stairs, quickly regretting that decision by the time you got to the third floor, but nonetheless you still made it to his door in one piece, you just couldn’t breath. You quickly recollected yourself before knocking on Cale’s door. 

“Cale, please open up, I need to talk to you.” You said hoping he could hear the desperation in your voice. He did.

His front door opened and you were met with the sight of your best friend who looked just as horrible as you did, possibly even worse. His eyes were red, his nose crusted, and his face puffy and glistening from tears. You would have laughed if the circumstances were different, but right now his appearance crushed you. You had a staring contest, neither of you moving or speaking, your breathing was even rigged. You broke the silence, “Can I come in?” he nodded in response, fully opening his door for you to walk in.

“Look Cale, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have slept with him, well we actually didn’t have sex last night we were just- nevermind, but still that doesn’t give you the right to call me a whore. That hurt Cale.” You said trying your hardest to get the tears out of your eyes.

“I know I’m sorry, that was way out of line, but you have to look at it through my eyes” Cale paused trying to figure out his next words carefully. “-Y/n, I’m in love with you. I have been for awhile, and seeing you with Tyson was horrible, but seeing you broken because of him was even worse. I really thought you were making progress, you were hanging out with the guys and their partners more, you seemed like you were finally you again and to see you just throw all of that out the window because Tyson showed up on your doorstep unannounced hurts the most. What were you thinking Y/n?”

 “I wasn’t. Ok Cale, I wasn’t thinking. Tyson is back and he really wants to get back together with me and have me move out to Minnesota with him. He really wants me to be his again.”

“Do you want to be his again? Do you want to be anyone’s? Why can’t you just be your own person and not settle, not be ok with being claimed as an object by a guy who doesn’t even realize how good he has it with you? If you do move out there, what about your life in Denver? What about your friendships? What about your job? What about us? What about our relationship?”

“Cale you’ll always be my best friend, I’ll always lo–”

“NO DON’T SAY THAT! I don’t wanna be your best friend, I wanna be your boyfriend, your lover, the guy who is there for you no matter what, the guy who loves you no matter what. I want to be the one who lets you see how wonderful you are, to help you gain back that self confidence you lost to Tyson, I want you to see how much you deserve and I wanna give you that and more Y/n. I wanna marry you, I wanna give you your dream wedding, I know you’ve been planning it since you were young. I want to start a family with you, one boy and a girl. We'll name them those names you’ve had picked out since childhood, Dylan and Jane. I know you want Dylan to be older but you would be happy with twins as well. Y/n I want to give you the life you’ve always wanted, the one that you deserve, Y/n I–” 

Cale was cut off by your lips, you had never even thought of spending the rest of your life with Cale, until now, sure you had thought he was cute and over the past couple of months you had gotten much closer with him, but you never had considered that he could be the one for you, until now.

The kiss was desperate on both sides. Cale had wanted to kiss you since the moment he saw you, he wanted to know what you tasted like, if you chewed mint or fruity gum, it was fruity, he wanted to know how you felt wrapped in his arms, he loved it. Pulling away he chased your lips before sighing to himself and letting his head fall onto your shoulder. You welcomed his embrace by wrapping your arms around his torso, staying like that for a while before he felt wetness on his hair and heard your sniffling.

“Hey, hey are you ok? What’s wrong?” Cale asked gently, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him.

“It’s just, ugh it’s stupid-”

“If it is making you cry it isn’t stupid.” Cale told you affirmatively before motioning you to continue.

“Those things you said to me about my future, well our future, were you just saying that or did you mean it?” You whispered, ducking your head to try and hide from him, hoping that wasn’t all just for show.

“Every word of it.” 

You lifted your head to see Cale smiling softly at you, a blush spread across his cheeks. 

“Was it too much? I didn’t mean to overbear you or anything, you just needed to know how I feel.”

“It was a lot, I’m gonna be honest–” you both let out a chuckle, “but it was amazing. That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, ever.” The blush on both of your cheeks were deepening as you began leaning in, letting your lips mold together once again.

***

It was a few hours later that Cale had to leave to go to the rink, time in between you first showing up and him having to leave was spent kissing, talking, baking cookies, and some more kissing. 

“Will you be there tonight?” Cale asked while double checking he had everything in his bag.

“I don’t know, probably not. I’m telling Tyson that we’re officially over and that I’m not moving with him tonight and I already know that conversation isn’t going to go well.” You answered truthfully, not wanting him to get his hopes up too much.

“Ok.” Cale nodded, picking his bag up and heading out the door.

“I’m sorry. Good luck Makar, score a goal for me tonight.” He smiled as he walked out the door. You stayed on his couch a little while longer before heading out the door and walking up to your apartment. 

***

“Tyson?” You shouted as you walked into your front door, “Are you in here?” You were met with silence, so you walked up to the guest room where he was staying and knocked on the door.

“Tyson?” You asked again, this time in a softer voice. You heard the sound of sniffling coming from the room and decided to enter.

“Tyson are you ok? What is wrong?” You asked, finding him curled up into a ball on the bed, tissues surrounding him.

“I’m getting traded. Again.” He weakly stated. 

“Oh Tys…” You didn’t know what to say, what to do. He had just joined the Wild and they’re already having him pack his bags. “-where are they sending you now?” 

“I have no idea, no one has picked me up yet. Why do they want me gone? I just started with them, am I that horrible at hockey?” 

“No Tyson, don’t say that about yourself. This is what happens in sports, players get traded. You can’t let it affect your game, and your life as well, that’s what happened when you went to Minnesota.” You worried he would take your bluntness the wrong way.

“I know that, it just still hurts.” You hummed at his response, not knowing what else to say. 

“Have you spoken to Cale yet? Or is he still ignoring you?” You instantly froze, how were you supposed to tell him that not only were you not moving back with Tyson, thus telling him you will not be getting back together with him, but also tell him that not only had you made up with Cale, you also made out with Cale.

“Yea, I actually just got back from his apartment. This is probably not the best timing but–”

“You’re not getting back together with me?”

“Tyson. I love you, I always will, but our relationship is not healthy. I need to put myself first, and I get how that might be selfish but I cannot put myself in a relationship that has made me feel unworthy of so much. I’m so sorry.” Now it was your turn to tear up.

“Y/n, I understand. I never thought you would actually come back to me. I’m sorry too, that our relationship made you feel like that, that I made you feel like that.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“You belong with Cale, I hope you know that. Obviously I wish that we could be together, but if it's not me it should be Cale. Last night I saw how much it affected you, him being upset with you, and seeing you sitting out there for so long made me realize that not once in our relationship did you fight that hard to make things right with me, I didn’t either. It hurts, but I understand that he means more to you than me, but I love you so much that I wanna see you happy, even if it’s not with me.``

You smiled at him, sitting up and wiping the last of your tears away.

“-but if things don’t end up going well with Cale I’ll always be here.” Tyson added in a jokingly flirting tone causing you to laugh. 

You got up and instantly started getting ready, you were going to the game tonight and you were gonna wear your Makar jacket. 

***

“Oh Y/n you made it!” Mel said enthusiastically when you entered the friends and family box. “How did it go this morning?” She added needing to know all the details.

“Really well…” You trailed off trying to quiet your voice down so those around don’t hear all of your business. “-we actually kissed, like a lot.” 

“YOU GUYS KISSED?” Mel yelled, the opposite of the reaction you were hoping for.

“Shhh Mel come on dude.” You said moving your hands around trying to get her to understand how badly she needed to shut up. “Anyways, we kissed, and he confessed to me and told me all these sweet things like really sweet things that made me cry.” You told her, smiling at the memory of it.

“What kind of sweet things?” Mel asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Nothing like that you perv, but maybe I’ll tell you in the future.” You smiled towards your friend before you began paying attention to the game in front of you.

***

The Avalanche ended up winning their game in a shutout, 7-0 and letting them advance into the finals of the Stanley Cup, Cale also got a hat trick tonight. You followed Mel and the other family members towards the dressing rooms to meet up with the players.

You stood there leaned against the wall, nervously playing with your necklace. Gabe had exited the locker room a few minutes earlier and quickly took the attention of Mel, leaving you to your own devices while you wait for Cale, he still didn’t know you were here so you didn’t know how long it would take for him to exit the locker room. 

From: Makar🥰

Hey! Game is over and I just finished up, about to head back to my place. I hope your conversation with Tyson went ok, and I hope I can see you again tonight. Maybe you can go up to my apartment and I’ll meet you there? I’ll pick up some food.

To: Makar🥰

Look up dummy.

Confused, Cale looked up from his phone and met your eyes. His face instantly turned into a smile before he quickly walked over to you and dropped his bags.

“Hey you-” but Cale didn’t let you finish your thought, he grabbed your face and brought his lips down to yours, ignoring the hollering and whistling from the players around him. It wasn’t until Gabe shouted out a “Get a room you two!” Did you guys part from each other.

“You made it. Did you see my goals.” He whispered, a blush coating his cheeks.

“I did, all three of them. Congrats honey.” You whispered back.

“Ugh you’re gonna drive me crazy with that name.” He groaned, his head leaning back.

“Well I don’t have to call you it then, I can just continue to call you Cale.” You teased.

“No no no, please continue to call me that. You’ll get a nickname of your own soon, I just have to find the perfect one. Babe? No, that doesn’t sound natural. Love?”

“Oh I like that one.” You giggled a blush reaching your face.

“Alright love, let's go, I am starving.” Cale said, picking his bags back up off the ground.

“You’re not even gonna acknowledge me wearing your playoff jacket? I’m offended Makar.” You quipped, purposefully walking in front of him so he could see his name and number branded on your back. 

“Oh shit.” He said lowly, obviously flustered at the sight. “You look amazing, like really amazing. My last name looks pretty good on you, wanna take it forever?” He winked as you turned round to face him.

“One thing at a time Makar we aren’t even dating yet.” You said while walking up to his car.

“Well then will you be my girlfriend Y/n?” 

“Of course.”

“Great, now will you marry me?”

“Shut up and drive before I walk home.”

*A/N y’all this is the longest thing i’ve ever written lmao. i hope y’all enjoyed it, i kinda just write things and hope they make sense because planning and proofreading a story is for suckers. but if anything doesn’t actually line up to what happened in real life then oh well it’s a work of fiction. HOPE Y’ALL HAVE A GREAT DAY*

[abalidoth]

whats your fav album/albums??

Like anyone else who was sentient and within earshot of a radio in 2012, I was aware of Call Me Maybe. It was inescapable, virulently catchy, an icepick of bubblegum straight to the tympaneum. As mocked as it was beloved, as society is unable to tolerate anything feminine.

I don't strongly remember my feelings about it at the time. I was probably self-aware enough at that point to not explicitly shit on it -- that was right around when I was making my first tentative steps towards not identifying as a guy. But my musical taste at the time skewed more towards They Might Be Giants and Imogen Heap so it wouldn't have been anything I sought out.

Flash forward to the summer of 2015. I'm in a bar in Ames, Iowa with a bunch of other mathematicians, there for the Graduate Research Workshop in Combinatorics. After a hard day of bootstrap percolation and RNA folding and graph discharging, we descended on this little college bar's trivia night like a swarm of LaTeX-using locusts. Combinatorists tend to be eclectic sorts, so trivia comes naturally to us, and I'm no exception; our four mathematician teams took the top four spots that night, and my team was first among those. There are a few other stories that came out of that night, but the relevant one is that I heard a little song over the speakers called I Really Like You.

Like Call Me Maybe, IRLY was uncompromisingly girly. But I was at a stage in my life where that was a balm to my aching soul. I had been slowly growing in my femininity month by agonizing month, living in the freezing wastes of Laramie, Wyoming. I wore skirts around the house, went by ze/hir pronouns online, but nobody in person knew. Every Friday afternoon my wife would paint my nails, and every Sunday evening I'd scrub the authenticity out of myself with acetone and a cotton ball. So the femininity of the song was appealing to me.

So, too, was the lyrical content. It was self-awarely about a liminal state in relationships, that hazy limerence where actual commitment isn't in the cards, but the feelings are strong, so why don't we ride them while we can? It's not that it hasn't been done before, but Carly Rae did it well. I added the song to the mp3 app on my phone and didn't think much more of it.

Cut to the summer of 2016. Brexit had just happened, I had just found out my dad was planning to vote for Trump. The sun over the Rockies was bright, but the world was feeling small and hostile. We were spending the week with my parents and some family in a mountain town in Colorado. Emma and I aren't the hiking sort, so when the rest of the folks went out in the wilderness, we decided to explore some of the little towns in the area. In one of those towns was a record store, and in that record store was a CD copy of E-MO-TION.

I recognized it as the album that had that song I liked from last summer. We listened to it in the car on the way back up to Laramie, and I liked it a lot. Now, we usually listened to music on the old iPod that was connected to our aux cable, rather than the CD drive. So that CD just kinda stayed there in the car.

November rolled around. Trump won the election. My dysphoria and my fear and my seasonal depression blended into a eutectic misery, greater than the sum of its parts, a suffocating miasma of soul-deep pain, that I had to keep off my face for the sake of my students.

I started listening to that CD in the car more and more. I memorized the track numbers, I knew exactly what stretches of songs were best for which emotions. That album became a lifeline for me. When I was driving an icy road in the dark on three hours of sleep, stressing about my lack of progress on my dissertation, and the intrusive thoughts came in that maybe, it wouldn't be so bad if the car spun out on the black ice?

I'd put on Making the Most of the Night. Carly Rae knew I was having a rough time, and here she was to hijack me, hijack me.

[wehaveagathering]

Do you have any offseason predictions? (for the flyers) / what Should happen this offseason

I assume this was a drunk ask last night but i fell asleep. So. You get my wakeful, no less complex and thought-through answer. This may be long; you have been warned.

First of all, the draft. This isn't the draft for big moves. I mean, while I'm definitely hoping for huge upsides for members of the 2024 draft - being lambasted as "not a deep draft" makes them my most beloved underdogs and I hope they all prove themselves - usually scouts who know hockey and watch a ton of young prospects are right about who can do what. And all of the scouts are saying: the 2025 draft has way more talent than 2024. So. If I'm Danny Briere, this is what I do.

In the 2024 1st round, the Flyers have pick 12 and pick 31/32 from the Panthers. Let's say, because the Flyers have famously good luck while drafting, Florida wins the Cup and we get pick 32. Not that it makes THAT much of a difference - we're going to get a prospect with similar skill levels whether we pick at 31 or 32. However, judging by everything I've read, a prospect we like is going to be available at 12. Whether that's Yakemchuk or Helenius or Eiserman (the three that usually get mock-drafted to the Flyers) we're gonna get a guy with good skill, and a pretty bright career ahead of him. And then at 32, some decent dude.

Nah. I'm giving pick 32 to a team that really needs it. Someone like Ottawa, or the Sabres, or the Kraken, someone that is picking early and are hoping for a better upside next year. Maybe they have their eye on someone going later - maybe we throw in a 2nd or 3rd round pick to sweeten the deal. And in return, they give us their 1st rounder for the 2025 draft.

You know, I considered that the Flyers might try to trade up in the 2024 draft, but because of the "lack of depth" I think that you're not gonna get a guy at 12 that's super different from the guy at like, 8, and no one is giving up a pick above that, whether or not the draft is "deep" or not. The Sabres are saying 10th is maybe up for grabs, and the Devils are willing to trade their pick in order to contend next season. I could see us trading a player for 10th, but definitely not picks, and the Devs want a goalie, so. No-go there, as the Flyers have thrown their weight behind Ersson and Fedotov. So I don't think we'll trade any picks for a higher selection in 2024. But I think that it would be smart to get a third pick in 2025. That's the kind of stuff you can really leverage.

Hypothetical scenario. Say the Flyers do a little better next year and get pick 14 in 2025. Say Colorado makes the conference finals and has to give their #30 pick to us. Say we make a deal with the Kraken this year for our 2024 #32, and they have pick #15 in 2025. Why not, in that case, leverage picks 15 and 30 and move up to 10, or even higher? Why not go for gold, maybe give picks 14 and 15 for pick #5? Then you have a highly touted prospect pick at 5, and still 30 in a deep draft. I mean, Vancouver traded all the way up to get two top-five picks in a row to take the Sedins.

(OR you just keep three first rounders in a deep draft, which no one is mad about.)

We could play it real smart just with the draft this offseason. And then there's Michkov.

I think a lot of what the Flyers do this offseason depends on if Michkov comes over. Russia wanted that answer by the end of June, and I'm sure the Flyers do too, so they can draft and trade accordingly. We don't have much cap space if we want to sign him. Local cryptid Ryan Ellis still has until 2027 getting 6.5 mil a year. Rasmus Ristolainen also has a contract until 2027 getting 5 mil a year. Colorado gave us the precious, precious gift of Ryan Johansen who came with 4 million dollars worth of baggage. TDA and Kevin Hayes are costing us approximately $5 mil this upcoming season. We currently have $500,000 worth of cap space and an ELC for Michkov would be $700K annual at minimum, and you know they are NOT gonna give the Mad Fucking Russian minimum NHL wage (the max is $950K.)

If I'm being totally honest, I kind of don't want Michkov over this season. I can't see us trading someone to make cap space for him, and I don't see Barkey or Bonk being ready to play in the NHL this year next to him. (Very excited to see them at the NHL level soon, though.) The Flyers just aren't ready. If we wait another year, Cam Atkinson's contract is up and he retires gracefully, giving us more cap space. We have a year to figure out what to do with Johansen, whose contract is up in 2025 anyway. That frees up 9 mil alone. If we're already getting rid of Staal (god I hope we do) that's 2.5 mil gone. I think it's not a bad idea to let Michkov play more in Russia, keep a good relationship, let the team be kind of middling for another year so we get a decently high pick, or can make a reasonable trade for one - because right now, even the Flyers are saying it: we need high end talent. Someone to match Michkov. I mean, I think Frost would be a good center for him. I think Frost's playmaking would work well with him. A Michkov-Frost-Foerster line would be fun as hell, but that line doesn't live up to what Michkov can do forever. If Michkov comes over, I also don't want him playing on our fuck ass powerplay. You know what I mean? You ever go back and watch the 2012 ECQF and hear the announcers talk about how the Flyers' special teams were their strength? We haven't had that for years. We don't need it right now. But if Michkov is here, we should have something close.

As far as trades go. I wouldn't make too many moves. I don't think the Flyers will make too many moves if Michkov doesn't come over. People are already freaking out over a TK extension - whatever. He has until 2025, I'm not pressed, and both the Flyers and TK want him to stay, so something will get worked out. I can see why people want to trade him, but what the hell do you want in return?? What do you think you're going to get? It's not worth it. Sign him next year for 6-7 years @ 8 mil, fans are happy, players are happy, TK is happy. Fuck off.

I don't think Staal is staying. They're talking about extending EJ – that would be cute, but we already have a number of pretty good defensemen, and we don't need just another "pretty good" defenseman. (Sorry, Big Horny.) I would love to see a similar team next season develop more offensive chemistry and to have a solid goalie tandem rotation, and I think that would be the best outcome of this offseason.

Obviously, there are a few players with contracts that are up this year. Bobby Brink's ELC is up, and for me it's crucial that he stays. This is my number 1 signing that needs to happen this offseason. I think he's an exciting player, and I think that Torts needs to get his head out of his ass and work with him. (This is my number 1 bone to pick with Torts, but whatever.) Zamula also has his contract up, and I know they want to re-sign him. I also hope that they're thinking about Kolosov coming back to the Phantoms this fall, and what they would have to do for him to make him comfortable in Lehigh Valley. When Kolosov came over this spring, no player on the Phantoms spoke Russian, let alone Belarusian, and when he left at the end of the season, citing that he was homesick – I can't imagine that that had nothing to do with it. Ersson talks about how important Felix Sandstrom was for his acclimation to American life as a fellow Swede, and I think that if Kolosov is to return to North America, you want someone there to help him out and help him acclimate. Depends on how everything shakes up next year – that could be Gurianov or Zamula, but both of their contracts ended in 2024. So Kolosov's comfort level in America is a factor I hope they're considering.

Like, this is the thing with Michkov. I want him to come over, but if he does, they need to shake up a lot of shit that I don't think they're ready to shake up. I think him playing for 3 years in Russia factored into their long-term plan, what with the very tight restrictions on cap space we have right now and the makeup of the NHL and AHL teams here. Fedotov will be crucial for Michkov if he stays, and if he doesn't, then Kolosov, Zamula, Gurianov, or any other Russian/Russian speaker on the team needs to have a level of comfort in PA to ensure that Michkov does not struggle with the same culture shock that I assume Kolosov did. He was 22; Michkov will be 21 - if he comes over now, 19. There needs to be a system in place for these players. Creating that system needs to have started yesterday.

Uh, I think that's it. Thanks for the ask!! <3