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manychocolatefactories · 4 years

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CatCF Dark Chocolate: Part 2, the tour

Willy Wonka and his factory:

For the Factory in this version, I wanted to give a feeling of the factories of the 19th century. Something between a place where a mad scientist would work and a steampunk fantasy. Willy Wonka himself is based on Jules Vernes.

Willy Wonka himself is a man with an "impressive beard", a solemn but kind air on his face, and an overall feeling of knowledge and wisdom. Wearing a thick and tight jacket, a black top hat and a dark green coat, his appearance actually gives mixed signals: his short hair is fluffy and shaggy, like a man of free spirit, of amusement and not much care, but his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and cut, like any serious and respectable man. His hair is brown, chocolate-colored, but with touches of white and gray here and there. His eyes are kind and twinkling, but his mouth is a harsh thin line. He is the kind of man that will say the most extravagant things perfectly seriously, but treat serious and common business as a joke. Don't think however that is an extravagant or funny man. Again, he rather gives the feeling of a kind mad scientist.

As for the Factory itself, actually the locals, the people of the town over which the Factory looms, dislike it. Sure, the Factory is admired by people wordlwide - tourists come to see it, painters come to paint it, it is a landmark admired in foreign countries. But the locals do not like it at all. It is a tall, dark, cold and stern building, with no color of beauty, only locked doors, metallic fences, thick walls and high chimneys. The Factory does not employ anyone of the town, in fact no one ever saw the Factory workers arrive or leave. Wonka himself has never left his factory for decades now. Couple that with strange white silhouettes seen at the windows, and the ramblings of the local homeless man who apparently hates the Factory and keeps insulting it, and quickly a bad reputation was built for it. Adults believe Wonka is trying to hide a shameful secret, the kids tell tales of "the haunted chocolate factory"...

In fact, I wanted an air of creepiness for the Factory. I took back the original idea of Dahl that all the workers are regular humans dressed in white, and I pushed it a little further: they are basically so covered in white you can hardly see them anymore. They have white blouses and jackets, white gloves, white masks, white caps, white helmets... After each kid's demise, a mysterious poem is recitated (like in Dahl's original drafts), mysterious voices that could be eithe the worker's or something else... In fact, with each kid demise there is an element of sppokiness which may be the kid hallucinating out of fear, or not (Augustus in the river thinks something is tying to catch him or drag him down ; Wilbur and Rice in the dark hear and feel creepy things...). And Wonka himself keeps making ominous references to "selling your soul to the devil"...

But in truth the Factory isn't a death trap at all. Behind the scenes, the workers are just normal people with their own life and their usual office routines, and who happent to leave very discreetly the Factory. The Factory is also based a lot on the Menier chocolate factory, which is the "real-life" Wonka factory. I may speak more about it one day.

Anyway... now let's go on with the tour!

# The Labyrinth. Behind each entrance, before each exit of the Factory, is a labyrinth, a maze Wonka designed after the works of Penrose and Möbius. Only he and his workers know the way out of them. This is merely a security measure.

# The Edible Garden. For this garden, I wanted to insist on the idea of it being fake and artificial - Wonka didn't try to create a perfect replica of a landscape. This room doesn't even have any real sense in the Factory, it is merely a piece of art he created so that he could come in here to relax and mediate. There are no windows, all the lights come from spots on the far-away ceiling and the ground is grey stone (because Wonka is revolted at the idea of making grass out of candy, it would be too dirty). There are trees of hard caramel and mint candies, orchards where the fruits are made of gummy, lollipops shaped like flowers and numerous sculptures of sugar - none of this is to be eaten however. At the back of the garden, there is the Chocolate River. The River serves a double use: on one side, it is merely an aesthetic addition to the Edible Garden. On the other, it is a source of energy for the Factory - it used to be a water mill, and Wonka kept the ancient structures but replaced water with chocolate. As such, the production of chocolate actually helps create energy back - and the river ends with a series of different pipes, each one leading to a different room where the chocolate will be used.

This is where Augustus Pottle meets his demise. The competitive glutton tried to empty the river of its content, and fell into it. Sucked up by one of the glass pipes, he did a long travel through the tubes and pipes of the factory, which crushed and reshaped his fat into a cylindric body - before he fell into one of the boiling vats. There, the heat was enough to have all his fat melt, like in a super-intense sauna. Hopefully, he was rescued before being boiled alive - but Augustus left the factory as a mass of sagging, extra-skin, his wrinkled folds dragging on the ground, like a skeleton wearing a bride's dress made of human flesh.

# At the back of the Edible Garden, there is a long hallway that passes by a balcony. Said balcony allows one to see the "Mosaic room", a place where Wonka makes mosaics out of pralines - and since the room is really vast, he can make giant mosaics.

# The Vanilla Fudge Mountain. While it looks like a miniature mountain kept inside a giant room, this titanic hunk of vanilla fudge is actually a fragment taken out of the Honeylaya mountain range (located somewhere between the great Black Thunder chocolate mines, and the sugar marshes of the Sea of Marmelade). [References to the Himalaya, the Black Thunder coal mines, the Black Thunder chocolate bars, the Sea of Marmara and salt marshes ]. This room is basically a copy-cut of Dahl's deleted chapter of the same name, with workers breaking down the mountain, piling the fudge in wagons and then sending it to the Cutting and Pounding Room.

This is where Wilbur and Rice meet their demise. Unruly, and tired of having all their pranks and "fun" sabotaged by Wonka and Bertie Upside, they decide to ride the wagons. Of course, they are sent down the Cutting and Pounding Room - hopefully for them, Wonka has installed an intelligent wire strainer/net that can catch all impurities detected, to clean the fudge. So the kids are saved, right? Well the thing is that, while waiting on the wire strainer for someone to save them, the kids, bored and gluttonous, ended up eating all the fudge that fell down around them. They ate so much of it, that the machine ended up identifying them as "fudge" instead of "impurity" (since they were basically 80 percent fudge after their gorging Xp). So they where sent down in the Room, thrown on a conveyor belt... ready to be pound and cut into slices. The workers realized this of course and stopped the conveyor belt before the knifes - but the kids still got pounded. Wilbur, who was lying on his side when he got pounded, became tall and thin ; while Tommy, who was standing up, got pounded on the head and became small and large. In fact, when they got out of the Factory, their angry parents ended up mistaking one for another and going home with the wrong boy.

# After the Vanilla Fudge Mountain, the tour goes by another hallway, this one with numerous tall and colorful windows - stained glass made of sugar. Each window illustrates a famous chocolatier or candy-maker, but in the style of saints in churches. You have Philippe Suchard (the grandfather of Milka), Henry Isaac Rowntree (the maker of the Fruit Pastilles and Fruit Gums), the Menier family (the biggest chocolatiers of 19th century and first half of 20th century Europe, and distant relatives of Wonka) ; the Murrie family (creators of Hersheys) and the Mars famly (bheind the Mars bars, the M&Ms, the Snickers and the Milky Ways). "All families" Wonla notes with an air of sadness. Indeed, Wonka always wanted a family - or rather at this point in his life he regrets to not have a family and an heir, isolated that he is in his factory.

# Inventing Room number 3. There are numerous "Inventing Rooms" in the Factory, dedicated to developping, inventing, testing, studying products or just do crash tests. The number 3 is clustered with huge, squat and heavy dark machines, with vats, cauldrons and ovens, and all sorts of other structures dragon-like due to the steam and fire they spill out. It quite a grim and sinister place, but it is also where Wonka tests his most fantastic inventions, like the Rainbow Drops, the Luminous Lollies or the Three-Course Meal Gum.

As you guess, this is where Violet Beauregard will meet her demise. I set myself a rule to avoid all blueberry transformations when dealing with the demises of the Violets, so here I rather use the tomato soup: after chewing (not only did Violet took the gum due to her "talent" but also because she misheard Wonka and thought it was a "tasting" room), her face becomes red and chubby, her skin smooth and glossy, her cheeks puff out, her nose bulges, her forehead bloats, her throat becomes big, her lips thick and her ears thin, pointy, green. Result? Her face looks like a mass of tomatoes. Tomatoes for cheeks, a tomato for a forehead, tomatoes instead of eyelids, a tomato for a nose and two for the lips... Think of the Arcimboldo paintings, how he made faces out of flowers and vegetables. It is the same thing here. And while her parent is furious at first, they end up actually realizing it might be for the better - because now she is truly unique and attention-attracting, and that's what her parents always wanted...

# Follows a long hallway with a series of different rooms: two are taken from the original book, the Fizzy Lifting Drinks and the Squares that Look Round. One I changed slightly: the Chocolate Milk Room, where Wonka keeps special cows that have a chocolate-flavored milk.

# The Heating Room. A room taken from Dahl's deleted chapter "The Warming Candy Room".

This Heating Room looks like the negine room of a submarine or a freighter, filled with turbines, pistons, pipes, wheels and pressure gauges. This is where Wonka creates all of his heat-related products: hot ice-creams to fight chilling days, hot ice-cubes to give back warmth to a cold drink, and finally the warming candies (see the original deleted chapter). Marvin Prune, absolutely outraged by what he perceives as Wonka breaking all laws of science and physics, tries to prove that he is a quack by stuffing himself with handfuls of warming candies. Which results in him over-heating: he becomes red, sweaty, thirsty, removes all of his clothes (save for his underwears) and screams to death.

Wonka will have him put in the freezer, and also covered regularly in water, to avoid him drying up to death or combust. But even as he is leaving the factory, he is still red, sweaty, steamy and in underwears - the falling snow melting as it touches him.

# The Nut Room. Another classic piece of the original factory that I wanted to reinvent. Basically, here the kids do not visit the Nut Room proper, but the Under-Nut Room, or Sub-Nut Room. You've got the Nut Room where the white-clad workers separate good nuts from bad nuts Then the "bad" batch is then in this under-room, where trained squirrels will sniff out any potential "good nut" the workers may have missed. All the nuts are on a conveyor belt, that is getting then thrown down a chute.

Of course, Elvira Salt meets her demise here by trying to take one of the squirrels by force, resulting in a squirrel attack. However, the squirrels do not push her down the chute. Rather, she climbs on the conveyor belt to avoid them and has her fur stuck in the belt. She could have escaped if she had let go of it, but she refused to let it go, so she fell down the chute... and Wonka cannot remember if this particular chute leads to the compost vat he uses to grow his fruits, vegetales and berries - or to the furnace...

But don't worry, she actually falls down in the compost. Elvira will leave the factory extremely dirty, unbearably stinky, so much not even an entire week of baths and showers can remove it, and probably with one or two diseases, but alive.

# The Television Room. I did not had time to clearly prepare this one, but it will be where Michael (Mike) T-V meets his demise. Discovering he can go inside television, he is more happy to oblige, and is absolutely thrilled to be in his favorite shows. But as soon as he leaves the television, he realizes that he is now as small as a television character! No bigger than the screen! He will be sent back to his home, now only able to play with his toys and figurines, the only things at his doll-like size.

# The Molding Room

This room is also taken back from Dahl's original draft. Basically, it is where Wonka creates many of his chocolate sculptures - he has an entire zoo of chocolate animals, and very recently created a machine able to form men, women and children out of chocolate. And this is also where Bertie Upside will meet his demise.

You may be wondering: Bertie? What has he done wrong? He is kind, gentle, generous, perfect. He helped Charlie on numerous occasions, he stopped the mischief of the brats... Isn't he a good kid?

HE IS NOT. Grandpa Georges was right all along: if he appears better than the others, it means that he twice as worse.

Bertie Upside truly has a heart of gold. Which means a heart of cold and hard metal, not of flesh.

Bertie Upside is a psychopath, a sociopath, an evil little boy. Sure he knows how to put on a nice and gentle facade, but it is just manipulation. If he is orphaned, it is because he killed his own parents, and now that he is left alone with Charlie (Wonka being busy elsewhere), Bertie will try to kill him, just for fun, by putting him in the "Chocolate Boy" mould so that he would be smothered in a chocolate statue.

However (I have to admit this part is a bit blurry), Charlie will resist and Bertie will end up thrown inside another moulding machine... A piñata-creating machine. When Bertie will get out of the machine, he will still be a living boy... but now with a flesh as fragile as papier-mâché, and insides filled with candies. Now he is really a sweet kid inside as he is outside. And he will have to be really gentle... if he doesn't want to break.

And of course after that Charlie gets the factory, as it turns out that Wonka was looking for an heir with this tour. Happy end!

Now, as I mentionned a poem forms itself through the story, rhymes being added after each kid's demise (an idea originally taken from Dahl's first drafts of the story). It goes like this:

"Nine little children, in the garden they went,

But one fell, and then they were eight."

"Eight little children, an unruly mix,

Two rode to Chicago, and then they were six."

"Six little children went into a room as busy as a hive,

But one did not listen carefully, and then they were five."

"Five little children, less and less at every door,

One had a fever and then they were four."

"Four little children saw squirrels down the tree,

One fell down the squirrel hole, and then they were three."

"Three little children, and none are new,

One went to play and then they were two."

"Two little children, we are soon to be done,

One got his trickandtreat, and then there was one."

"One little children, everything he won,

He lived ever happily, and now we are done."

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #willy wonka #wonka factory #tour #dark chocolate #demise #veruca salt #augustus gloop #violet beauregarde #mike teavee #charlie bucket #bertie upside #marvin prune #tommy troutbeck #wilbur rice

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fanforthefics · 5 years

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Landesbarrie post-retirement AU?

And again, very very late but apparently on a roll...

1) Tyson retires good.

Of course, there’s no good, per se, in retiring, but it means that he talks to his doctors and thinks about his body and has a good, final season, and announces a few days ahead of the final game of the regular season that this is his last year. His team makes it a respectable second round in the playoffs, and he has a respectable final skate around the ice to the cheers of the crowd that’s made him theirs, an A on his shoulder and a Stanley Cup ring on his metaphorical finger. It is, everyone agrees, a very dignified end to a very respectable career. It is, everyone also agrees, not a very characteristic end.

2) (A few days later, footage appears on various players and retired players’ social media feeds, of Tyson standing on a stage of a Vancouver ballroom, decorated with uncharacteristic discretion. “Hello all!” Tyson says, into a microphone.

“Hi!” Comes a yell back.

“We love you Tys!”

“And I love you,” Tyson agree beneficently, blowing a kiss. “All of you. As you all know, and have gathered here to celebrate, I have officially retired from the NHL.”

“Oh god, he’s going to give a speech,” someone says, near the camera.

“I don’t know what you just said, Landy, but I can feel you bringing down the room, so I’m gonna need you to bring it up,” Tyson says into the microphone.

“Anyway, as I was saying. I have retired from the NHL. And so, now that the NHL and shitty people no longer have power over me, I have gathered all of you here, my dearest friends and a few of my enemies—you know who you are—for an announcement.” He waits. Takes a breath. Then,

“Welcome to my coming out party, bitches!” he yells, and banners striped pink, lavender, and blue fall from the sides of the room as rainbow balloons tumble from the ceiling onto everyone, and Lady Gaga’s Born This Way plays.

It is, everyone agrees, a much more fitting end to Tyson Barrie’s hockey career).

(Somewhere, Matt Duchene: “Wait, he really was flirting with all the boys?”)

3) Gabe retires bad.

All retirements are bad, of course, but this means that he’s playing and he goes down, and he doesn’t get back up. He does the rehab and the PT and the surgery, and he still—doesn’t get back up. He retires on what ends up being a loss, angry and frustrated with a body that’s finally not doing what he wanted it to do, and goes back to Sweden to disappear into his frustration.

None of which stops Tyson from showing up at his door, just around when the regular season would be starting.

“Tyson?” Gabe asks, blinking. Of all the people he expected when he opened the door, Tyson Barrie was very low on the list. If only because last he heard—and he hears a fair amount—Tyson was in Seattle, working for the team.

“Brilliant observation as always,” Tyson retorts, with the bright sort of smile he always gave when he was getting away with something no one should get away just because he was cute and shameless. “You going to let me in, Landeskog?”

Gabe hasn’t talked to anyone since he retired, other than a few angry sulky texts and his family. He definitely hasn’t gone to talk to any NHL players. He hasn’t talked to Tyson, really talked, for—years. After Toronto but before Seattle, probably. There’d been some group dinners, Gabe had been at the Coming Out Party laughing with the rest of them, and he’d kept up with the gossip mainly through Nate, who made it his responsibility to keep all of Tyson’s old friends up to date minute to minute, but—they hadn’t talked.

Tyson’s still smiling. Gabe steps aside, and lets Tyson in.

4) The thing is—the thing is, they never were really a thing. Tyson and Gabe. They hooked up, sometimes, when Tyson was on the Avs. Well, a lot. Tyson would still like to see the person who could hook up with Gabe Landeskog who wouldn’t hook up with Gabe Landeskog. So like, they hooked up, and they were friends, and maybe they slept over a lot, and maybe Gabe looked at Tyson sometimes like he mattered, like he was the entirety of his world, or laughed at Tyson like he was hysterical, and maybe Tyson sometimes looked at Gabe being ridiculous and dramatic and leadery and pretending to be sensible and felt things in his stomach, but it wasn’t a thing. Or, well, they never talked about it, so it wasn’t a thing.

Then Gabe got a girlfriend and they stopped, and Tyson got a girlfriend, and they were still friends, and sometimes Gabe still looked at Tyson like that, but they still didn’t talk about it. Then Tyson got traded and they were far apart, and—things changed. The thing that wasn’t a thing changed. Disappeared. Which was fine. Tyson had had girlfriends and a few discrete boyfriends and he’d been in love and out of it, and on the list of heartbreaks of his life, Gabe and him never really happening barely ranked.

Except now, he was in Gabe’s house, and Gabe was still sulking around very loudly making sure Tyson was paying attention to him but also that Tyson knew he was in a Mood, and Tyson would say it’s not cute, but like, it’s still Gabe, who’s only aged with the dignity of a fine wine. Tyson, whose hair has been retreating faster and faster, is not jealous because if he were jealous of Gabe’s looks than he’d have burned out years ago, but still, it’s unfair. And it means that even sulking he’s not unattractive.

“Why are you here?” Gabe asks, after he’s given Tyson the tour and Tyson’s dropped his bags.

“Can’t I want to visit Sweden?”

“Tyson,” Gabe says, and it’s the same tone he’d always used to cut through Tyson’s bullshit.

“I’ve been elected representative of the ‘stop Gabe from being a sad sack’ club,” Tyson informs him, rolling his eyes. “Which I did not even put my name in for, it was a whole write in situation, but unfortunately it doesn’t seem like a refusable position, or not while Nate’s chair of it, because you know, he might always break my leg again, and—“

“I’m not a sad sack,” Gabe retorts, trying to pout but Tyson can see his lips twitching.

Tyson looks around, very pointedly, then focuses on Gabe’s sweatpants.

“I’m not,” Gabe repeats. He’s not smiling anymore.

Tyson doesn’t know this Gabe, really, but he knows the Gabe of years ago, and he’s grown up enough that he can resist pushing buttons even when they’re right there and flashing big red DO NOT PUSH signs at him. “Yeah, well, you’ve been bragging to me about the superiority of real Swedish meatballs for twenty years, so it’s time to put up, Landeskog,” he says, and Gabe’s shoulders don’t relax, exactly, but some of that anger banks.

5) It’s not exactly a fun time. Gabe’s still so angry, all the time, and it gets worse as the Avs start slow. He probably shouldn’t be watching, but he can’t help it. He should be there.

Tyson watches with him, sometimes, when he catches Gabe doing it. “I hope you know how unhealthy this is,” he says, but he sits down next to Gabe, because Tyson’s never forced Gabe into healthy choices. He’s just—there, a warm snarky bulwark dragging Gabe back up when he gets too in his head, a constant running commentary on the game until Gabe has to give him shit for being more of a commentator than the actual commentators, and then Tyson starts doing his Don Cherry impression, and somehow it’s—easier. To watch the game. To watch his team lose.

It’s like that all the time. It’s not easy. Gabe’s leg still aches, even months later, and the pain sets him on edge all the time, and he’s just so—bored. He’s used to a schedule that was regimented all the time, about all things, and now—now he has the vast expanse of years reaching out in front of him, with nothing there, and he hates it. He hates that, and he hates his friends who are still playing, and he hates his family for always asking how he is and worrying when he hasn’t had someone worrying over him like that for years.

He sort of hates Tyson too, for not giving him any of that shit, for being there even though he knows Tyson has better places to be, for somehow getting him up and out of the house, but Tyson’s always been frustratingly unhateable. Even at his most annoying, Gabe’s never managed it. And for all Tyson’s grown up, and Gabe can recognize that he is different, that he sometimes thinks before he talks and that he doesn’t go off on his half-cocked adventures anymore or any of that, he’s still—Tyson, with his ridiculous jokes and the brilliance of his smile and the caring that he hides under all of his banter. He’s still the guy who Gabe fell into twenty years ago, whose support built him up until he knew he could stand on his own. He’s still the guy who pokes at Gabe until he’s out of his head, until he remembers how to smile, even when everything else is awful.

6) “I used to dream about you coming here,” Gabe says, one night when they’re hanging out in front of the TV after dinner. Tyson had been trying to decipher the Swedish sitcom that was on the TV, mostly hopelessly, but he glances over when Gabe says it. Gabe’s half-shadowed, and he’s looking at the TV, not at Tyson.

“If this is you trying to get me to admit to jerking off in your guest room—“

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Of you visiting me here. In Sweden,” he amends, neatly cutting off that distraction. “Back—at the beginning, when we were kids.”

“So you could prove Sweden’s superiority over Canada? Because you’ve been trying and I’m still not convinced.”

“Because I wanted to share it with you,” Gabe says, still serious. Still so fucking earnest, knocking down all of Tyson’s humor with his sincerity. “You were important to me, and so is Sweden, and I wanted you to see it.”

“I’ve been here with you,” Tyson points out. “Remember? Kerf almost died and didn’t tell anyone? Dutchy beat us, just to really put a cap on everything?”

Gabe snorts. “Yeah, because that was really the time to take you sightseeing.”

“I would have.” Tyson swallows. “I mean, you were super busy with family or whatever, so I didn’t—“

“I thought about asking you to come with me. To meet everyone. But…”

“But then Nate would have tagged along, and he’s hard to explain, I know,” Tyson agrees, and Gabe sighs.

“Tys.”

“Gabriel,” Tyson retorts. Gabe still hasn’t looked away, and he’s still so—Gabe. “Are we talking about this? Now?”

“You did have a whole party and everything saying that you were ready.”

“That party was an excuse for presents. Which I haven’t gotten from you, let me say. I don’t forget that.”

“I don’t think a coming out party is like a baby shower—“ Gabe shakes his head. “Maybe we should talk about it, though. It’s been long enough.”

Long enough. Years and years of history. Of friendship, and of facing each other on the ice, and the way Gabe had squeezed Tyson’s shoulder that summer in Toronto, the way he’d said, ‘I’ll miss you, four,’ like it meant so much more, even though they weren’t—anything.

“What’s there to say?” Tyson shrugs, looking at the TV. He can barely see it and definitely can’t understand it, but it’s better than looking at Gabe. “We hooked up, then we didn’t.”

“It wasn’t that simple.”

Tyson likes to think he’s more mature than he was, that he can have a conversation when he’s cornered into it. “It sort of was, though. The timing wasn’t right. We were kids, it was the NHL, and, like—there’s a reason my party happened after I was out.”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t—we were good, right?” Gabe runs his hand over his beard, that Tyson finally got him to trim back from Viking wild to something neat.

Tyson rolls his eyes. “Are you asking about the sex? Because I mean, we were twenty, so no, it wasn’t great, but we tried, so we get an A for effort.”

Gabe chuckles. “Fine. But, I meant—the two of us. We worked, right?”

“We didn’t—Gabe, that wasn’t a relationship. You know that, right?”

“No, I didn’t notice,” Gabe drawls, then shakes his head. “Of course. Like you said, the timing wasn’t right.”

“Yeah.” Maybe they’re done with this now.

Except—Gabe’s closer on the couch, suddenly. Nearer to Tyson. Tyson looks up at him again, can feel his eyes widen. Gabe’s looking at him, and Tyson remembers that look. It still hits him the same as it did when he was twenty and so fucking easy for his beautiful, brilliant captain. “The timing’s changed.”

“Gabe—“ Tyson doesn’t know what he’s going to say. Gabe’s still Gabe, but…

“I’m not in the NHL anymore, am I?” Gabe’s lips twist, and there’s the bitterness. There’s the but. “Something good should come out of that, and we were good. We could be good.”

“Gabe.” Tyson gets up. It’s easier with distance. “Come on, man.”

“What? Do you not want me anymore?” Gabe smirks, because they both know how ridiculous that is.

“Don’t do that,” Tyson snaps at him. “Don’t—“

“Then why?”

“Because this is still shitty timing!” Tyson retorts, draws his hands into fists. This tastes like maturity, he thinks; like growing up enough to know when it’s better not to touch something. “Because you’re still so fucked up over your injury.”

“I’m not fucked up!”

“Yes you are! You’re all—angry, all the time, and you’re messed up and don’t know what to do and, I get it, Gabe. I was there, I went through it—“

“No you didn’t!” Gabe yells, and there’s that anger, finally on the surface. “You got to choose this, I wasn’t ready, I didn’t want to go out like this, it was supposed to be—“ As Tyson watches, Gabe runs out of words, just shaking his head—just shaking, his hands balled into fists.

“Yeah, very not fucked up,” Tyson agrees, sarcastic. Gabe’s eyes narrow. Tyson glares back. “You just want it because it’s—something. Because you lost hockey and you’re looking for something else to latch onto.”

“Wow, that sounds smart, did some reading?”

Tyson ignores Gabe’s vicious streak. “Yeah, Mac bullied me into therapy when I was fucked up over retiring. Learned some things.” He takes a breath. “Look, maybe I don’t get it get it, but I sort of do. And what you want—that’s not fair to either of us. We’re supposed to be adults or whatever, haven’t we moved past using each other for stability?”

For a second, it looks like Gabe’s going to keep fighting, but then the air drains out of him, his shoulders slumping and his expression going abashed at that. “I—it’s not just that,” he says. Earnest again. The bitterness under the surface but not gone. “I really did dream about you being here. About us being more. We’re still good together, Tys.”

“Yeah.” Tyson knows that, but—he’s not that kid anymore, easy for whatever his captain needed. Ready to take whatever was on offer because he didn’t understand he should have more. That he wanted more. “And if you still think that when you aren’t fucked up, you can talk to me then.”

“I—“

Tyson is so very done with this conversation. “Okay, no, you have to explain this to me,” he cuts Gabe off firmly, and sits back down, facing the TV. “Is he her kid or her boyfriend? Or her brother?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyson can see Gabe deciding whether or not to push it. In the end, he decides not too. “Her step-brother. Well. It’s complicated,” he replies, and sits back down too, respectably far apart on the couch. Tyson tries really hard not to regret anything.

7) They don’t talk about it again. Tyson stays for another few weeks, and they keep doing their easy domesticity where Gabe figures out how to live with a leg that doesn’t always like him and a world that isn’t regimented for him, and Tyson bullies, cajoles, and annoys him into actually dealing with it. They clearly both know it’s there, more in the open than it has been for years, but they’ve lived with all of that under the surface between them before; they know how to sublimate it into their friendship. Sure, it’s harder for Tyson to stop himself from noticing that Gabe hasn’t let himself go or anything, that his hands are still stupid big and all, and Gabe can’t help but look at Tyson, all the time—he’d always been magnetic, in a way that he didn’t like to acknowledge, his easy charm and how much he loves being the center of attention, but now that Gabe’s acknowledged it it’s harder to resist.

But they ignore it, well enough, and then it’s time for Tyson to go home, because he does have a job that he can’t put off forever, and Gabe’s—doing better. He thinks. Maybe. He doesn’t know how well he’ll do after Tyson leaves, but it’s better, now.

“Yes, I’ll text you when I land,” Tyson tells Gabe, at the doorway, rolling his eyes. “I have been basically a professional traveler for my whole life, whatever.”

“You managed to break your leg in a pillow—“

“For the last time, that was Nate’s fault!” Tyson protests, but he’s laughing. Gabe’s going to miss that laugh.

It’s because of that, maybe, that he leans down, kisses Tyson’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says, low and meaning every word.

This close, he can see Tyson swallow. “Yeah, whatever, maybe now Nate and EJ’ll stop bugging me,” he mutters, like that’s why he did it. Gabe has to smile. It’s easier, these days.

“They’ll just find something else to bug you about, they can’t help it,” he points out, and Tyson lets out an irritated breath.

“No kidding.” Then he looks up, too suddenly for Gabe to move away, and they’re—they haven’t been this in years, maybe since Gabe hugged him goodbye in Toronto, that summer Tyson left. “Look, I just—if I could help, I’m glad, okay? We’re still—I still care, or whatever.” He bites off the last words, like he hates having to admit it, and has to smile again. Tyson’s always so Tyson.

He could—if he kissed Tyson right now, he doesn’t think Tyson would stop him. He wants to. He’s wanted to for weeks, but Tyson’s right. Too much of why he wants to is the urge to have something good, to leech off of Tyson’s settledness, to keep Tyson here to have something.

He steps back. “Have a good flight. Text—“

“I already said I would, god, you haven’t been my captain for a decade, honestly,” Tyson starts, and Gabe herds him out the door with him still talking. He’s still smiling as Tyson’s uber drives away.

8) Tyson goes home, and back to work. He and Gabe talk more than they have since Tyson was traded, and from what he can tell Gabe’s doing better, but Tyson’s got his work with the team and his Seattle friends to distract him, and when Nate plays Seattle he comes over and they have a good catch up which they haven’t had in too long and Tyson tells Nate everything and Nate approves, which makes Tyson feel better, and it’s—Tyson’s life, as it was. The life he’s made and he’s happy with. Maybe it’s better now that Gabe’s in it more, giving him shit and earnest praise in equal measures, bantering with him and laughing at him and all of the things that made Tyson into him in the first place, but whatever. This is enough of Gabe. Tyson doesn’t want more of Gabe than he can give.

Then, months later—Tyson’s doorbell rings.

Tyson’s not expecting anyone, but it’s not like it’s unusual for someone to drop by.

“Hello?” He says, opening the door, then stops.

Gabe is standing there, looking for all the world like a romcom hero, his hair glistening with the Seattle rain and his eyes bright. “Hey,” he says, and his smile is a little smirky, like he knows just what a dramatic moment he’s doing and he’s really enjoying it. “You said when I wasn’t fucked up, I could talk to you again.”

Tyson swallows. “And?”

“And I’m still figuring shit out, but I think it’s better.” Gabe takes a step forward. “And it’s still, always, better with you.” He pauses, then. “Can I come in?”

Tyson takes a breath, but it’s still—it’s still Gabe, and he’s not wrong. It is always better with him. “Yeah,” says Tyson, and lets Gabe in.

9) (“It’s got to be you going to Sweden,” Nate had said, and Tyson sighed.

“Why? We’re not close anymore.”

“Yeah, but he’s miserable.”

“So?”

“So he needs someone who makes him happy, and that’s always been you.”)

#avs fic #my fic #avs tumblr fic #leafs fic #i guess?#:(#anyway sorry for the delay!#hope this domesticity angst makes up for it #also I just like the image of Tyson having a coming out party tbh #maybe this whole thing was an excuse to write that #eafay70 #izzy answers

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rogerina-deacon · 6 years

Text

“AAAAAAHHHH” // Pat Murray x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Pat Murray x Fem!Reader Summary: After being married to Pat for four years, the two of you already having a three year old son, you are now nine months pregnant and going to a game, though the fourth inning brought more than just a good hit from Dells. Warnings: Swearing, killer amounts of fluff Word Count: 4449

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this! This gave me just the motivation I needed to finally watch Undrafted, so thanks for that too. Hope you enjoy!

“C’mon, babe, we gotta leave soon for the game, we don’t want to be late!” you called up to your husband, Pat, who was currently up in the bedroom putting on his D-Backs uniform for the game set to start in an hour. You had already gotten dressed for the day, wearing a maternity jersey the team had gotten you a few years back when you had your first a few years ago, a baby boy Pat insisted on naming John whom you were currently fighting to pull a red t-shirt on over his flailing arms. You soon heard Pats footsteps coming down the stairs, making his way to the kitchen to make sure all the food was ready and in the cooler. There he found you with his son on the kitchen island in quite the struggle.

“C’mon, bud, don’t you wanna see dada crush those worthless little-” Pat cooed in his best baby voice before you cut him off.

“Language!”

“What, babe, I was just gonna call them cockroaches” He shrugged as he placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Knowing you, I would’ve expected much worse.” You retorted before pecking him on the lips, your hands still working on getting John’s tiny hands through the arm holes before Pat finally started helping, his hands maneuvering Johns through the shirt.

“Thanks, babe. You have no idea how uncooperative he was.” You said with a sigh, picking up John before placing him on your hip. “Everything all set to go?”

“Yep,” Pat said with a pop, “I got my gear out from the garage, it just needs to go in the trunk; the car seat was moved to the minivan, bubs toys next to it, and the cooler is all packed.”

“Alright, looks like we’re ready to roll!” You said, heading out the front door, keys in hand as Pat lugged the cooler, rushing to get ahead of you to open the door.

“M’lady” He said, holding the door open as he bowed, you rolling your eyes as he tipped his red baseball cap to you.

“Been married four years and still as gentlemanly as ever.” You teased, giving him a peck on the cheek before locking up the house. He soon got to the car, lifting his bag into the trunk before climbing into the driver’s seat. You set John into his carseat, buckling him up before making sure his water was securely in his cup holder, handing him his stuffed elephant for the ride before pressing a kiss to his forehead and preparing to close the door.

“Careful bub, don’t wanna thump your head or hands” You said, pressing his hands into his lap as giggles erupted from the three-year-olds mouth, holding his hands to his chest once you released him to close the car door. Plopping down on the passenger side seat, you peeked in the rearview mirror to see John still giggling, bouncing his toy on his lap, making it dance. You instinctively placed your hand on your full-grown stomach, imagining him as an older brother. He was a careful child, most times at least, he does take on after his father at times. But still, you knew he’d be a good big brother. He was ecstatic when you and Pat told him, his hands clapping together as he sat pretzel style on the rug in your living room, surrounded by toys.

“So, bub, you know how your mom and I fell in love and made you?” Pat more stated to John than asked, and the two year old nodded happily.

“Mhm” he mumbled, still fascinated by a toy car in his hands.

“Well,” You chimed in, taking Pats hand in yours, placing your other on Johns chubby little knee, “we made another.” John looked perplexed, clearly not understanding.

“How?”

“Well, little man, I’m afraid you’ll need to be a bigger man to learn that.” Pat said with a chuckle, giving your hand a squeeze.

“But, you’re gonna be a big brother!” Pat said excitedly, and John’s face lit up.

“Yeah, bub! You’re gonna have a little brother or sister!” You cooed, giving him a squeeze on the knee, his tiny hands clapping together.

“Now, we want you to know that when the baby comes we will love you all the same. There isn’t any less love for you, bub, just more being created for the baby.” When Pat said that, John just got up on shaky knees and waddled closer to you, collapsing into you and Pat, his arms spread wide.

“I wuv you, mumma and dada and baby” You and Pat just stared at each other when he said that, your hearts melting as you went in to hug John together.

You were snapped from your daydream when you felt Pat put his hand on yours, still on your bump, interlacing his fingers in yours. You turned your head to face him, his eyes on the road but his mind on you as he brought the back of your hand to his mouth to press a lingering kiss.

“What were you thinking about there, babe?” He asked as he lowered you hand with his down to rest on the console.

“Mmh, just about John being a big brother, ‘n back when we told him the news.”

“He sure was cute when we told him.”

“Mhm. Best reaction I could’ve hoped for.”

“God, I’m a lucky man.” Pat breathed out, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. “I mean, I’m married to the most wonderful women I’ve ever seen, and together we have the cutest son and she’s growing another, going through hell to bring them into the world. I don’t believe you exist sometimes, babe.” He said as he stopped at the light, turning to meet your eyes. His eyes were full of love, a huge smile on his face as he leaned over to kiss you momentarily. Just as he pulled away from the kiss, the light turned green and he crossed the intersection, merging right once all the way across. There was a little ice cream shop on the way there on the right side of the road, and you went there before every game to pick up a dozen vanilla cones with rainbow sprinkles for the team, and they had them all sitting in the freezer ready for pickup.

Pulling into the parking lot, Pat unbuckled and grabbed his wallet from the center console before exiting the car and entering the shop.

“Ah, Pat! Good to see ya! Hey, how’s the wife and kid?” The owner, Bob, greeted him with a hug and a pat on the back.

“Oh, Y/N’s just great. Nine months pregnant and sitting in the car with little John as we speak.” He said with a laugh, pulling out his card to hand to the girl at the counter to pay, the cones all in a box on the counter beside the register. She swiped the card, promptly handing it back before picking up the box to hand to Pat, a quiet ��good luck” coming from the shy girls mouth.

“Good luck out there, Patty boy! Knock ‘em dead!” Bob cheered out to Pat from behind the counter as Pat waved back at him, thanking god it was a push door from the inside as he used his hips to open the door for him. You had gotten out of the car to open the door for him to the backseat, knowing if he dropped the cones in an attempt to open the car door you’d basically be dealing with a toddler who dropped their ice cream cone, only it would be a 30-something year old man who dropped a dozen ice cream cones, and he wouldn’t be crying, he’d be cursing. And you did not want to go through that again.

The park was maybe five minutes away from the shop, so it didn’t take long to get there once you left. Pulling onto the gravel of the makeshift parking lot, you got yourself ready to get up and out. Once you got out, you went over to Johns door, opening it to find a slightly sleepy little boy clutching his elephant.

“C’mon, bub, we’re here! I think I see Mason and Olivia, wanna go play with them at the playground?” You asked him, John soon perking up like a dog you just told was going to get to go for a walk, a smile growing wide as he held his arms out for you to pick him up. You happily obliged, unbuckling from his car seat before picking him up and helping him stand on the ground, taking his hand.

“Hold on, kiddo, we gotta grab dad’s bag before we head over there.” You smiled, Pat already a step ahead of you, handing you his gear bag, which was quite heavy, but nothing you couldn’t handle. He did have a helmet, glove, and two bats in there after all. You began heading towards the bleachers, John running ahead of you to meet up with his friends, who just so happened to be the kids of who he was named after. It was a good thing one of them was seven, so they didn’t need supervision, and the playground weren’t far away so you could still keep an eye on him if you really wanted to. Giving John a hug before setting him free, you walked over and gave the original John a hug.

“So good to see you, Y/N. You look as good as ever” He said as he held onto you, grabbing the bag from your hand as he did so. “Ty, Vinnie and Garvey are already in the dugout, why don’t you go join them, I’ll help Pat out.”

“Thanks, John, you’re a backsaver” You said, you both letting out a laugh. You headed over to the dugout to greet the guys.

“Y/N, what are you doing out?” Garvey asked, concern in his voice, instantly motioning for you to sit on the bench. “A baseball game is no place for an expecting mother, you know”

“I’m pregnant, not dying, Garvey, it’s fine” You assured him, but he didn’t stop there.

“C’mon, Garv, I’m sure she knows what her body can handle better than you do, man.” Ty tried to convince him, which kind of worked, especially when Vinnie agreed, nodding his head.

“Fine, just don’t blame me when that little sucker decides it wants to join in on the cheers.” Garvey finally gave in, shaking his head. The rest of the team showed up, one by one, each greeting you with a hug and a “how are ya?”, stopping you whenever you tried to get up to greet them properly. John and Pat had gotten caught up at the car, chatting about the joys of fatherhood for a few minutes before realizing they had somewhere to be.

“Oh, sweet, ice cream!” Palacco exclaimed, jumping up from his spot on the bench to grab a cone before his hand was swatted away by Ty.

“Hey, ladies and children first, and we got both in one body over here” Ty said as he nudged Pat towards you so that you could have first pick.

“Mmh, this really hits the spot, thanks guys” You practically moaned out as you took a lick of the ice cream.

“Okay, now you guys can grab-” Ty was cut off by the heard of players rushing to grab a cone, John carefully grabbing one, his arm carefully maneuvering itself above Davids head.

“Well, I oughta go back to the stands and get settled. Good luck guys!” You said, giving Pat a kiss before leaving with John, cooler in his hand.

You sat with John, sharing some chips and splitting a sandwich. The first few innings went well, only a few screams coming from your overly-enthusiastic husband at bad calls made by the umpire, and those were short lived. But around the fourth inning, you started feeling a bit weird. There was some cramping, but you figured it was just the food catching up with you. But then, you stood up to clap at an amazing hit Dells made.

“SHIT!” You all but screamed, your hand going to the underside of your belly as John put his hand on your back.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?!” He asked, sitting you back on the bench.

“My fucking water just broke, what do you think?” You were now developing the temper of Pat, and that wasn’t good. Suddenly, John yelled time, and everyone looked at him like he was out of his mind. He was a spectator who had just called time. So you sat there with your father in-law as John ran across the field to get Pat for you

“Hey, who do you think you are, calling time?” The umpire and coach from the other team yelled in unison, but John didn’t stop.

“John, what are you doing out here?” Barone asked, turning away from the bench bet debate he was having with David and Palacco. John had just reached Pat and rested his hand on his shoulder, catching his breath from being out of practice for so long.

“I- it’s Y/N, she, her…” John stumbled.

“What, is she okay? What happened John?” Pat asked, his anger rising.

“Her water broke, man. She’s gone into labor” John said, and Pat’s eyes went wide. You weren’t due for another few days, so he was quite shocked.

“WHHAAAATTTTT” He screamed, shaking his best friend for no other reason than he didn’t know what to do. He soon began running around the field, screaming and going up to everyone, shaking them and yelling in their face that he’s gonna have another kid. As hilarious these antics would have been any other time, and you were sure you would laugh about this later, now was not the time and you quickly grew annoyed with him.

“PATRICK FUCKING MURRAY, IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND HELP YOUR PREGNANT WIFE TO THE CAR AND DRIVE HER TO THE HOSPITAL, SO HELP ME GOD WE WON’T BE MAKING ANOTHER CHILD” You yelled across the field to him, parents around you in the bleachers covering their children’s ears as you cursed out your husband. He finally made his way to you, running full speed to you, jumping over the fence to help you, because using the gate three feet away would have been too much work.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of little John!” John shouted to you and Pat, his hands cupped around his mouth as an amplifier, to which you gave him a thumbs up before climbing into your seat, Pat helping you buckle before rushing to the driver’s seat, frantically starting the car. Pulling out of the parking lot, he drove as if he had a flashing sign on the roof saying “wife in labor, must rush”. He was a very careless driver in this moment, any squirrel or empty soda can causing him to swerve and scream, and this was not a town where people didn’t litter, so he was constantly freaking out. He even yelled at red lights.

“C’MON, DON’T YA KNOW MY WIFE’S ABOUT TO GIVE BIRTH” He screamed at the red light.

“Honey, I know you’re stressed, but THE LIGHT CAN’T HEAR YOU!” You screamed out at him, patience wearing thinner than you knew possible.

“MAYBE THE GUY CONTROLLING IT CAN!”

“THAT’S NOT HOW RED LIGHTS WORK AND YOU KNOW THAT!”

It was a damn good thing the hospital was fifteen minutes away, you didn’t think you could stand more screaming than that.

“SHIT” He randomly exclaimed, no prompting whatsoever.

“What now?”

“I forgot to call the doctor! They aren’t gonna be expecting us!” And with that, he began his screaming again.

“I’ll get the doctor on the phone and tell him, you just focus on driving.” So, you did, you called the contact in your phone named “Baby Delivery” and waited for the perky receptionist to answer like she always does.

“Hi, yes this is- uh, this is Y/N Murray, I’ve gone into labor and we- we’re about five minutes away.”

“Okay, dear,” she warmly responded, taking a pen to a notepad. “Where are your contractions at?

“I- I don’t think they’ve fully started yet, but my, uh, my water broke, OH- never mind, there’s one.” You said, grunting the last part.

“Okay hun, I’ll let Dr. Newman know. See you soon, dear, and remember to just breathe. Bye-bye love.” She said before hanging up, and you sighed as your head fell back onto the headrest, your breathes becoming more focused and deliberate, like a heavy meditation.

Only a few minutes later, Pat pulled into the hospital parking lot, pulling up to the curbside before putting the car in park to get a wheelchair for you. He helped you out and into the chair, wheeling you inside frantically, almost making you nauseous.

“Hi, um, my wife’s gone into labor.”

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Murray, welcome. I’ll take you up to room 243 now.” Darla, the woman you had spoken to on the phone greeted you kindly.

“Oh, I’ve got to park the car, I’ll be right back.” Pat blurted out, rushing out of the hospital to find a proper parking spot. He then ran to the building, taking the elevator to the second floor and hoping he remembered the right room. He couldn’t decide if it was 243 or 234, so decided to follow the heavy breathing and “AGGHHH”s that sounded like the woman he loved. About ten minutes later, the rest of the team showed up, along with John, little John, Olivia, Mason, and John’s wife. They waited in the waiting room, all their feet bouncing up and down in anticipation for the news. David, Palacco and Barone had made a new bench bet - was it a boy or a girl? Palacco said boy, Barone said girl, and David agreed with Barone for once.

“Why the fuck are you three trying to profit off of Pat and Y/N’s happiness?” Ty interrupted them, though he was quickly shot with a “Language!” from John, who was currently trying to get little John to take a nap with Olivia and Mason.

“I gotta profit off of something!” Palacco shot back. “I haven’t made a dime today! Barone got my money for saying Y/N would go into labor today, David got it for saying Pat would freak and she would curse him out, I haven’t got shit!”

“Well then maybe you should quit betting on them and their kid.” Dells reasoned, to which Palacco and Barone’s heads fell into their hands. Pat made his way into the waiting room, checking in on his friends before heading to the cafeteria to grab a coffee and a cup of fruit. Garvey instantly got up and walked toward him, already starting his questions.

“How’s Y/N doing? How’s her breathing, is it steady? Is she-”

“Garvey, my wife knows how to breathe properly, thank you very much.” Pat practically spat at him before removing his cap to run his hands through his hair. He had been there for hours and only now did he remember he had it on. “Besides, we took a class on proper breathing techniques back when we were expecting John. And you guys can head home, it’ll take a while for her to actually birth the kid. Maybe a day, you guys don’t have to stay here that long. Go get a good night’s rest, I’ll call once we make progress. Right now we’re just measuring contractions and checking to see how dilated she is, which is barely.”

“Well, I’m staying. Someone needs to stay with John while you’re up there with him.” John said, gently rubbing little John’s arm as he slept.

“No, why don’t you just take him to yours for the night, let him a sleepover with the kids. Here’s the spare key to my house if you wanna grab him a change of clothes.” Pat said before flipping through his key ring to find the right one. John got up and grabbed the key from him before giving him a hug.

“Thanks, man, and good luck with the birthing process. Let’s hope she doesn’t curse you out more than you deserve” John said, giving him a pat on the back as he pulled away from the hug. He gently shook his kids awake, trying to keep John undisturbed.

“Oh, shit, I guess you’ll need his car seat, I’ll go get that for you.” Pat said, waiting for him to get Olivia and Mason awake and walking before walking out with them, Johns wife staying with little John until he came back. Once he was all settled, he gave John another hug before going to the cafeteria. He decided to enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet at a table until he had to go back up to you, so he tried his best to enjoy hospital coffee in a cold seat, still in his D-Backs uniform with black stripes under his eyes, though his baseball cap was now on the guest seat in your room. He made his way back up stairs, though now more sluggish after sitting down for a little. But the grunts and screams coming from your mouth woke him up better than any alarm clock, and your hand was soon squeezing him, both of you screaming in pain. Hours upon hours later, there was finally progress, so he texted John:

“Progress made, call the guys”

So John did, and they all arrived at the hospital around the same time, resuming the same positions from last night in the waiting room.

“Surprised we can’t hear her right now, she must be going through hell” David said, practically groaning.

“I’m sure they’ve sound-proofed the hell out of delivery rooms for that exact reason. They don’t need a hundred mothers cursing out their husbands for putting babies in them at the same time” Dells said, pacing in the area between the two couches. And he was right, that was exactly what was happening.

“PATRICK WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THIS TO ME”

“PUT IT BACK, PUT IT BACK, I DON’T WANT IT OUT”

Your screams and groans from pushing filled the room, your grip on his hand making him nearly fall to his knees. You kept at that for hours until the doctor finally said something other than “push”.

“Oh, I see a head of hair!”

‘Phew, it’s almost done’ you thought to yourself.

“C’mon, Y/N, you can do this, just push” Dr. Newman coaxed just as a loud groan permeated the room, soon mixing with the cries of the baby.

“Just a few more, Y/N, you can do it” He continued, and soon the baby’s torso was out, followed by the legs.

“Oh, thank god, it’s over!” You gasped out as Pat wiped the sweat off your face, petting your hair down as your breath settled.

“Looks like you’ve got a healthy baby girl, congratulations” said one of the nurses as the others cleaner her up.

“Oh my god, I have a daughter… we have a daughter!” Pat exclaimed, catching his breath as well, his hand holding yours and giving it a squeeze. The same nurse soon came back with your baby, swaddled in a pale pink blanket, and she gently laid her in your arms. Tears began to form as you looked at her for the first time. She was beautiful. Veiny and crying, sure, but she was yours. You and Pat made her, and now she was in your arms, and soon all three of you were crying. Pat began petting her head, gasping out an “oh god” when he first made contact. The corners of your mouth had pressed in as you smiled, trying to hold back tears, but eventually giving up, and they began flowing freely.

“I love you so, so much” you whispered as you brought her head closer, placing a kiss to the top of her head. Pat was standing there in awe, looking at the two most important girls in his life, one hand in yours, the other brushing up and down his baby girls arms.

“Here, hold her” You said, smiling up at Pat for a moment before looking back at her as you lifted her up towards Pat. He carefully held her, and you nearly started crying even more from the look on his face as he looked at her, taking in every feature on her face.

“I promise, I’ll always take care of you. Always.” He whispered as he pulled her closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder as he turned to place a lingering kiss to the side of her head.

“What should we name her?” You asked him as you looked at him.

“How about Scarlet? Scarlet Rose Murray” He said as he gazed at her.

“I love it. I love her.” You said as another tear fell.

“Here, I’ll go get John so he can meet his baby sister.” Pat said as he handed her to you, and you simply nodded as you cherished the feeling of her in your arms. Pat made his way to the waiting room exceptionally fast, and he found John taking a nap on the couch, leaning up against Dells.

“Hey, bub, she’s here” He said, slightly shaking the toddler awake. He brought his hands up to his eyes in a fist to rub away the sleep, not yet understanding what his dad was saying. He simply got up and was taken into his father’s arms, latching around his arms around his neck.

“Hey, kiddo, look! You’ve got a baby sister” Pat said as he walked towards you, John now situated on his hip as he pointed to you and Scarlet. John lit up and made grabby hands towards her, wanting to get closer.

“You can’t hold her, bub, but I can move over a bit so you can lay next to me, ‘kay?” You said while scooting over as Pat got ready to place him down beside you. Your arm not under Scarlet found its way to Johns back, steadying him as Pat moved a chair to the edge of the bed so that he could make sure John doesn’t topple over.

The three of you stayed like that for hours, just staring at Scarlet as guests came and went. John took little John back to his place again so he can get a good night’s sleep, and Pat simply fell asleep in the chair. And this, you were convinced, was heaven.

If you liked this, check out my masterlist!

#pat murray #pat murray x reader #pat murray imagine #undrafted #joe mazzello

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grahamcrackersandhoney · 6 years

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Metal & stitches for the ask game! 💓

Ty for asking!!

Metal: (Do you have any piercings?)

I just have the normal piercing on my lobe :’0 I plan on getting more once I’m in a better financial state though! I don’t remember the name of the ones I want but I have this whole chart and such. I only remember “upper lobe piercing” off the top of my head Sorry I’m dumb djdndmd

Stitches: (what kind of clothing do you wear?)

I love like funky things? Vintage looking stuff, Colour coded things, heels, Patches and pins, so on so fourth. Like I wear plaid, bell bottoms, Turtle necks, rainbows, Trucker hats, and funky little accessories a lot?? Like I love adding unnecessary accesories hhhdndndmdn like antique jewelry, funky shaped sunglasses, pins, etc. I have a certain hat I wear a lot with like 7 pins on it?? And it’s just like a plain baseball cap hhhhh I kind of dress like 1940s-1990s?? Oh and also graphic tees are rad !! I guess I’m androgynous?But tbh I also kind of dress like a basic white boy on the side, with like khakis and button ups it’s s,,so bad. But the style makes me feel Uber masculine (for some reason) which is nice!!

wearing slacks and button ups randomly make me feel super good too, same with like those funky little dress shoes- like the black ones everyone wear with suits?

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surveyhoursss · 3 years

Text

159.

Bold all the trends that you’ve participated in

2010 (I was 6 lmao)

2011

2012

2013

2014

2015

2016

2017

2018

2019

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caliboyjaeffrey · 8 years

Text

Call Boy Johnny (Johnny x Reader)

Rating: M

(A/N) THE MOMENT OF TRUTH HAS ARRIVED PEOPLE. THE SCENARIO YOU HAVE BEEN BEGGING ME FOR OVER AND OVER, I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED IT. HERE HE IS, IN ALL HIS GLORY. CALL BOY JOHNNY! I hope you all enjoy this one as much as I did writing it!! I’M THIRSTIN’ SO HARD RN

P.S. Yes, I’m the same blog as the original Call Boy Yuta smut. I changed my url from @chokemewithjaehyunschoker to @caliboyjaeffrey ! Hope no one get’s confused lol

You woke up slowly, the sheets and blankets kicked off in your sleep and tangled in your legs. You felt content as you looked over at your alarm clock, the time being in the late afternoon. Sleeping in was your passion, you’d stayed up super late the previous night anyway, not too bothered that half the day was gone. You gazed out the one big window in your bedroom, the one that looked out at the bustling city. Snow had fallen last night, dusting over the streets and cars like powdered sugar on pancakes. It didn’t really feel like your birthday, but it wasn’t so bad to wake up on a day as pretty as this one.

You got up and stretched, sliding on your slippers as you went over to the bathroom to wash your face, splashing it with cold water to wake yourself up. Refreshed, you lazily went to make coffee, turning on your radio to hear a cozy sounding song playing through its speakers. You also heard your phone beep softly back in your bedroom, in no rush to see what is was as you finished making your coffee. Walking back to your bedroom, you slid open your phone, reading a text from one of your friends; something along the lines of wanting to meet somewhere for your birthday to celebrate. You smiled at their thoughtfulness, replying that you didn’t really mind where or how you partied, allowing them to go wild. Your friend answered back quickly, excitedly texting in all caps that she already had an idea in mind. She’d text you the details later, wishing you a final happy birthday. You set your phone down, feeling your body give a quick shiver of energy, the coffee beginning to kick in. If they were planning on going out after the sun had gone down, you weren’t going to rush to get ready. Instead you plopped down on your couch with a bag of cheesy popcorn, clicking on the tv and watching the current music show programs contently. Over time, you received various calls and texts from family and friends, all wishing you a happy birthday and to enjoy yourself today. That I will, you thought with a smile, standing up to refill your bowl of snacks for the second time. Someone might think it sad that this was how you were celebrating your birthday, but in all honestly, you loved having a day all to yourself. Of course, you didn’t mind hanging out with your friends later, in fact you really were looking forward to it. After a while, you received a text from your friend again, with a time, address, and instructions to dress cutely. You smiled at the smirking emoji, texting back before you wandered back over to your bedroom, making a beeline for your closet. The time had said 8:00, so you thought you might as well get ready now, giving yourself two hours to really put on the ritz. It was your birthday after all, you didn’t have too many chances to really go all out the rest of the year. You shifted through your clothes, finally being drawn to a cute, slimming black miniskirt; the perfect ploy to slim your food baby from all your snacking you did today. You’d pair the skirt with a red ribbed mock neck long sleeve that accentuated your chest. You slid on a pair of sheer pantie hose before you put the skirt on, tucking the shirt into the waistband to really make your hips pop. You finished the look off with some simple black ankle boots with just enough heel to make your butt look extra good. Satisfied, you headed over the bathroom to finish getting ready, knowing you would spend at least an hour doing your hair and makeup. A little over an hour later and your hair was curled and twisted up into a high bun, knowing that you’d probably get hot later. Your makeup was simple, but with a little touch of sparkle around your eyes that made them twinkle merrily. Happy with your appearance, you packed your purse full of the essentials you usually needed. Before you slipped out the door, you slid your chic winter coat on, hoping you wouldn’t freeze in your little skirt on the way to the subway station. You boarded the train half frozen, passing the fifteen minutes on your phone thanking people who had posted birthday related things on social media. A few people discreetly complimented you on the train, making you flush sheepishly as they applauded your style and makeup. Once you arrived at your stop, you took the stairs up onto a crowded street known for its nightlife. This certain strip was famous for its clubs among young people, and you’d been here on a few occasions. You weren’t shocked that they had decided on a club to host your party, what did surprise you though was which one they chose. The exterior was modern and sleek, only the big tinted windows giving an indication of what was happening on the inside. This club was notorious for having the best of just about everything, music, drinks, food, and people. Celebrities frequented this spot, so it was a rather exclusive club, and difficult to get into. You went to walk to the back of the long line just like everyone else, but a large bouncer stopped you, looking you up and down before asking politely, “Excuse me, are you ______?” Your eyes widened in surprise, “Yes, that’s me.” He nodded to another bouncer who opened the door, loud electric music spilling out onto the street. The bouncer held out an arm to the door, “This way, please.” You were still amazed as you walked up the steps and through the black glass doors of the club, staring in awe at the fashionable interior. The bouncer signaled you to follow him, leading you past the lively dance floor, whose tiles lit up in rainbow colors to the beat of the music. You were led up the stairs, almost unable to take your eyes off the people mingling and dancing, the place so alive and busy. Your body itched to shed your coat and join them. The bouncer stopped at another black glass door, politely knocking on it twice before he opened it, revealing the familiar faces of your girlfriends. They jumped up in excitement, popping those little confetti and streamer poppers as they cheered, “Surprise!” You were ushered in, the door closing as you grinned at your friends, embracing them warmly as they kissed your cheeks affectionately. They all said their ‘happy birthdays’, gushing over your outfit and makeup as they helped you with your coat and bag. “Come over here, _______,” your friend who had texted you patted the chic leather couch next to her. “The birthday girl sits in the middle!” You giggled and sat down, immediately being greeted by a cake with candles in it, “Oh my gosh, you guys.” They cooed and laughed, singing you happy birthday loudly and cheering when blew out the candles. “I don’t deserve you all. Really.” “Oh, stop that,” one of your friends scolded affectionately, “You always do so much for us, we really wanted to make this birthday extra special for you.” The rest agreed, already pushing presents into your hands. “Wait, guys,” you laughed, setting them down on the coffee table. “Presents later. I really just want to get down their and dance my ass off.” Your friends booed jokingly, but they were already heading towards the door, tying back their hair as they prepared for the sweaty mess downstairs. You felt your body vibrate, rushing down the stairs to finally step onto the bright and colorful dance floor. Your friends quickly joined you, forming a circle around you as you danced wildly, dropping down to the floor with the beat, causing them to scream gleefully at your sudden sexiness. You didn’t hold back, allowing your body to move provocatively to the beat as you closed your eyes and soaked in the music. You and friends danced for what felt like hours, taking the occasional break to indulge in some delicious drinks. Your body buzzed with the alcohol, but you were no lightweight, so your wits were right about you. You couldn’t say the same for your friends though, who stumbled around happily and danced without a care. You laughed at them, holding their hands so they wouldn’t fall over as you danced. Several cute guys had approached you, and you’d indulged in your inner desires as you danced with them. You would grind your ass into their crotch like an expert, ending up at one point sandwiched between two very cute guys. You kissed a few of them, just for shits and giggles, but the moment they whispered for you to leave with them and go ‘somewhere more private’, you would politely decline and slip away from them. Even with alcohol in your system, you were still smart enough to avoid a situation like that. You and your friends eventually reconvened, wanting to go open your presents and let your feet take a break too. Sitting down, you opened your presents, grateful for the effort they put into them. After opening the last one, you went to thank them, only to be hushed by one of them, “Wait, that wasn’t the last one.” They were all giggling, making your eyes narrow at them in suspicion. “All the girls and I pitched in for this one,” she smirked, your eyes widening as your feared the worse. The look they had on their faces only spelled trouble, “I’m sure you’ll find it rather…enjoyable.” Right on cue, the door opened, and a boy stepped in. He was far more gorgeous than any of the guys you’d danced with, making them look homely compared to the god that stood before you. Your jaw dropped, still unable to comprehend what they were implying, “I-I don’t understand…” He answered, voice so deep you felt it in your stomach, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing, sweetheart.” He was dressed casually, but stylishly; a sports team jersey of sorts, sweatpants that left little to the imagination, and Timberlands that clunked with authority on the tiled floor. He wore gold chains too, actually making them look hot for the first time in your life. He had beautiful long brown hair that swooped perfectly, complimenting his warm brown eyes and perfectly pouty lips that naturally had a smirky curl to them. Sweetheart, you trembled at his words, eyes wide as he walked up to you effortlessly, firmly taking your chin into his hand. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip with a smirk, one of your friends spoke up, holding back giggles, “Meet Johnny, _______. The most expensive and impressive call boy in the city, and he’s here to help you celebrate your birthday. You were speechless, eyes snapping up to meet his, which were watching and gauging your reaction carefully. He was perfectly calm and collected, while you were completely flabbergasted, still unable to understand what the hell was happening. “We also booked you a room at a really nice hotel,” one of your friends spoke up, biting her lip in amusement. If your eyes could get any bigger, they would have popped out of your skull. Your mouth couldn’t move, still transfixed with the way Johnny’s thumb parted your lips and slid into your mouth. You lightly tasted him on your tongue and accidentally let out a quiet whimper, his own lips twitching into a smile at your cute reaction. He’d have a lot of fun with you, you were definitely doing something to him. And he certainly didn’t mind. “Before your friends leave, baby girl,” Johnny simpered, finally letting his hand drop from your mouth. “I’m going to put on a little bit of a show for them, free of charge.” Your friends laughed and fanned themselves jokingly, but you could tell they were trying not to look as shook as you were. Johnny took a half step back from you, but he still towered so much that you had to crane your neck. You sat back, trying to relax your nerves but failing miserably as the call boy began to rotate his hips sensually to the muffled music on the other side of the door. If you thought your dancing had been risqué, Johnny made you look like a nun doing the Macarena. He suddenly slid onto the couch, straddling your hips and grinding into you as he gave you what you finally realized to be a lap dance. He grabbed the back of your head, exposing your neck so he could ghost his lips along your sensitive skin. You let out a whimper, this time not holding back as your hips moved on their own accord against his. Johnny stopped with a smirk against your neck, dragging his soft lips up to your ear where he whispered, “Now, now sweetheart. Let’s save that for later, your friends are still here.” He let his tongue run over the shell of your ear, his voice lower, “Unless you’re perfectly fine with me fucking you in front of your friends?” You shook your head, remembering that your friends were still in the room. You glanced quickly at them, they were clutching onto one another, eyes glazed over and biting their fingers at the scene before them. Johnny slid off your lap, taking your hand rather politely and snapping your friends from their trance, “Okay, ladies. Show’s over, time for us to leave.” They all gushed in agreement, some of them whispering excitedly to one another in disbelief, others reassuring you that they would take care of your presents. In a daze you thanked them, barely remembering how your coat ended up on you and your bag on your shoulder, “Bye…thank you for everything.” With his large hand grasping your smaller one, Johnny led you out of the club, easily weaving between crowds of people who were still dancing the night away. When you got out onto the street, snow was beginning to fall again, but the amount of people had only increased. The tall boy ran a hand through his hair, the action hypnotizing as he wrapped an arm around your waist and entered the stream of people, “This way.” You didn’t know what to say to him, but the silence was stifling, so you murmured loud enough so that only he could hear you, “You don’t have to do this, you know.” “I know,” he replied, glancing down at you once before continuing with a small smirk, “But I want to.” He waited a minute before replying with an actual smile, “And they paid me too, so…” You gave a small smile and blushed, clutching onto your bag for dear life as you two walked down the bustling street, snow falling softly and tickling your face. Your face burned all the way to the hotel, still unable to comprehend that such a gorgeous boy, a call boy at that, had his hand around your waist, and was leading you to some hotel where he would do God knows what to you. If some part of your brain was firing off and saying, “Hey, _____! Isn’t this a bad idea?”, you didn’t hear it. Instead you were listening to the other voice that whispered giddily, “A call boy! Just imagine! Wait! You don’t have to because it’s real!” While you were fighting a war in your mind, you failed to notice that the two of you arrived at the hotel, which was way too luxurious for normal people. Johnny walked in like it was nothing, like he owned it, and upon noticing your reaction he smirked, “Listen, sweetheart. I’ve been to nicer, my clients are quite fond of me and have quite the heavy purse. This is child’s play compared to other places.” He spared you a glance, eyes traveling up your legs and curves, as he murmured, “Who knows, maybe I’ll show you them someday.” You stared at your shoes in embarrassment, unable to find your usually witty tongue that served you so well. Instead, you walked with him through the sparkling lobby, the marble tiles so shiny you could see your reflection. Johnny didn’t even stop at the front desk, only giving the doorman a curt nod, who returned the gesture. As he pressed the button for the elevator, you gaped at him, “What was that?” “That, baby girl,” he smiled lazily, a confident look, “is called connections.” You were pulled into the elevator as soon as the doors opened, Johnny smashing the button that closed the doors before people could step on too. They cried out angrily but he only smirked at them, already backing you against the side of the elevator. “I was going to be a gentleman and wait until we got to the room,” Johnny murmured, large hands traveling to your waist. “But you look so good just standing there I can’t help but want a quick taste.” You barely had any time to reply when his lips crashed passionately into yours, hands on your hips rough as they tugged you into his. If kissing was an art form, Johnny had become a master artisan. His soft lips moved sensually against yours, controlling and powerful as you tilted your head back against the wall in defeat, allowing him to completely take over. He had you pinned against the cold metal wall, teeth nipping at your bottom lip for entrance as his tongue slipped into your mouth. You’d never been kissed like that, eyes flying open with a surprised moan before they slid close at the intimate feeling. Your head spun like you’d downed numerous shots, futilely trying to push his large frame off of yours so you could breath. But Johnny was stubborn and dominant, not stopping for a few more seconds before he pulled away, satisfyingly watching you gasp for air like someone who almost drowned. You noticed your hands had bunched up in his shirt in an iron grip, slowly releasing the fabric as you blushed. You really didn’t know what to say to him, how did you even talk with a call boy? Don’t you just fuck and then go your separate ways? Apparently not because Johnny couldn’t stop poking at you, all those pet names he threw around, the way he hadn’t stopped touching you since the club. He was beginning to frustrate you, though you couldn’t let him know that, he’d take too much pleasure in knowing he made you squirm. “How was that, baby girl?,” Johnny murmured as you reached your floor, making no move to get off as you realized he was waiting for an answer. You were known for being honest at all times, so you couldn’t help the words that slipped out of your mouth, “It was really hot.” Your ears turned pink, seeing a smile on his lips as he took your hand again and led you down a hall of doors. The walk felt never ending, your body becoming hotter with each step as you stopped at the very last door, a corner suite. From the pocket of his tantalizing grey sweatpants, Johnny pulled out a key card, which he swiped effortlessly. He held the door open for you, ducking under his arm as you took in your new surroundings. Your friends had apparently spared no expense, regardless of what Johnny said, the place was absolutely gorgeous. Decorated in a rather modern fashion, there was one impressive floor to ceiling window that over looked the city, and one grand king sized bed fitted with lovely grey sheets. You walked over to the bed and stroked the soft threads, unsure of what to do with yourself, but unable to meet Johnny’s eyes. He stood off to the side, watching you carefully like a predator watches his prey, wondering when he was going to pounce. You weren’t sure what you were feeling, whether you were ready or not, whether this was something you really wanted. Sure, your body was telling you to let Johnny do things to you no one had done before, but your brain was battling and kept you from falling into the call boy’s arms. You sat down on the bed and took your heeled boots off, not as an invitation for him to go on with it, but because you were suddenly so tired and confused. Johnny could tell you were at war with yourself, you were not the first time he’d dealt with someone who was hesitant. All you needed was a little push, a little reassurance, and he could give you that and much more if you agreed. “_______,” Johnny called out, surprising you as he used your name while he walked over and sat next to you on the bed. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, turning to look at you, the natural curve of his mouth calm and pensive, “and I understand. This isn’t the first time someone was unsure, it’s actually really common.” You stayed silent, mulling over his words. He sighed, probably expecting you to say something, but you didn’t, not knowing how to tell him both sides of your feelings. He was gorgeous and willing, here only to make your wildest fantasies come true, but the truth is, you were terrified. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your friends, and Johnny certainly didn’t know. You were still a virgin. You were surprised Johnny couldn’t spot the fact that you were one from a mile away, seeing as he’s probably slept with more people than he could count on his fingers and toes four times over. The famous call boy stood up from the bedding, dusting off his pants, “I understand. I’m not going to force you into anything you would regret.” He was already making his way to the door, grabbing his coat as he reached for the door handle, “You don’t have to worry, I’ll give the money back to your friends. It’s not a big deal.” You forced yourself to look up, seeing him turn the handle with the actual intent of leaving sent your nerves into overdrive. You stood up suddenly, taking a few steps toward him, “Johnny, wait!” He turned expectantly, looking fazed for only a moment before he returned to his calm state, “What?” You gulped, closing the distance between the two of you and overlapping your hand with the the one that rested on the door handle, “Stay…please.” He let go immediately, dropping his coat and backing you up slowly in tottering steps until the back of your legs hit the bed. You sat back down on the edge, allowing him to tower of you and cage your body with his as he pushed you into the mattress. His voice was low, already laden with a lust that sent a shiver down your back, “You sure?” “Y-yes,” you quivered, hands lacing behind his neck as you pressed your thighs together, “I want you.” “Positive?,” he teased with a smile, playful and confident again as he let one of his hands barely slide up your miniskirt. “Yes! Fuck me!,” you cried out, exasperated and wiggling underneath that stare of his that practically undressed you. “Alright, princess,” Johnny smirked, lips barely touching yours, “You didn’t even say please, that wasn’t very nice of you.” His hand crept up into your skirt, finding that you were only wearing pantie hose without underwear, and that greatly excited him. He inched his fingers up your inner thigh, your legs parting on their own as you tilted your head back at the strange new feeling, “Ah…!” He bunched up your skirt around your hips, his short finger nails digging into the hose and ripping a hole big enough to give him access to your womanhood. Cool air hit your lower lips, eyes screwing shut in pleasure as Johnny let one of his fingers dip lightly into your wet folds. He down at you underneath him, smirking, “Now listen hear.” “I could take you real slow, sweetheart,” he traced a finger up your slit, letting it press lightly enough on your clit to make you gasp. “Or I could fuck your brains out.” You could only moan, feeling him increase the pressure on your clit as he circled it with his finger, “Either way, baby girl, you’re going to end up bent over and spread wide for me.” He bent down so his lips brushed the shell of your ear, retracting his hand from your core and unzipping your skirt slowly, “I’m going to make you come around my cock at least two times tonight, sweetheart. How does that sound?” You swallowed thickly, tears of pleasure already pricking at your eyes just from his words, “So good.” You’d never felt so aroused in all your life, your body experiencing sensations and feelings you’ve never felt before. It was all so new and beautiful, you’re sure your body wouldn’t be able to last the night. Johnny sat up and took his shirt off, giving you a good long look of his toned tan chest, his gold chains bouncing lightly as he walked around the bed until he laid himself down at the head. He made himself comfortable as you sat at the foot of the bed confused, “What’re you-” “I want you to dance for me, baby girl,” Johnny murmured, his hand languidly resting over the bulge in his sweatpants. “I saw you in the club, dancing like the little slut you are, such a naughty girl. Stand up.” You listened obediently, already sliding your skirt and panties hoes down your legs as your body moved to some silent music. You recalled a song you’d really liked from earlier on the dance floor, a hypnotic beat that had the risqué sound of a bed rhythmically creaking. You danced to that beat, tongue coming out to trace your bottom lip as you stared at Johnny, whose hand moved lightly over his sweatpants. He watched you with intense eyes, lips parting slightly as he watched your every movement, “You know you made so many guys hard, sweetheart. And you turned them all down too, isn’t that right?” His voice dropped an octave, his abs flexing as he rubbed his dick harder, “They all would have gladly waited in line to fuck you right there too.” Not missing a single movement of his hand, you slipped your shirt over your head, dropping down to the floor like you had in the club. Johnny sat up a little straighter to watch you knot your hips on the floor, his dick twitching at the sight of your bare body. As you stood back up, your reached behind and unclasped your bra, feeling bold enough to throw it at Johnny’s feet. He let out a small groan, watching as your crawled on all fours towards him on the bed. You felt like someone completely different than earlier, driven only by your need to be with Johnny and feel his touch. You let your hands press against his chest, straddling him like he had done to you in the club and grinding down in his clothes erection. Johnny must of had a ton of self control because he only breathed through his nostrils heavily and squeezed your hips with his hands, guiding you as you rode him. You let out lewd sounds you didn’t know you were capable of making, unable to bare the pleasure you were feeling, how hot Johnny’s skin was against your palms. You couldn’t resist the temptation any longer, your fingers leaving his chest and choosing to weave through his long brown hair. You tugged on the roots as he began to grind back up into you, making you moan, “Johnny…” He grunted in approval, stilling your for just a moment so he could pull his sweatpants down. You had left a large wet spot over the front, all from your dripping core as you rode him. You balked, realizing what his intention was as he slipped his impressive dick out of his briefs, “What’s wrong sweetheart? You suddenly scared?” You gulped, raising yourself up on trembling thighs so he could position himself at your entrance. Your fingers dug into the skin of his broad shoulders, heart beat picking up as you prepared yourself for him, “N-no.” He didn’t even reply, instead he decided enough was enough and slammed himself into you harshly. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as his eyes suddenly widened in shock, “Shit. _______, why didn’t you tell me this was your first time?” You buried your head into his shoulder, sniffling from the pain as his arms wrapped comfortingly around your frame, “I-I didn’t want you to make fun of me.” Johnny sighed, showering your skin with kisses and rubbing soothing circles around your back, “Sweetheart, no….” You gave a shaky breath, beginning to get used to the unfamiliar stretch of your core, the strange feeling giving you a sense of completion. The call boy cupped your face, eyes surprisingly earnest, “I’ll make it up to you, baby girl, I promise, okay?” You nodded, resting your head against the crook of his neck. You felt so small in his arms, but safe, so you whispered tentatively, “Okay. You can move….” His hips moved gently at first, rocking in and out of you smoothly as you got used to the feeling, which began to build into one of pleasure. You hesitantly moved your hips, clumsily finding the same rhythm as him. He noticed you reciprocating his movement, picking up his speed slightly and pressing a kiss to your neck, “Feel good?” You could only moan softly, voice wavering as he bounced you on his dick getting increasingly rougher as he realized you were beginning to like it that way. His hips rutted harshly into yours, now unable to hold back as you grew accustomed to his size, biting down into the skin of his shoulder when he grabbed your ass, “Johnny!…” “Such a good girl,” he groaned, head lolling back against the headboard as he lost himself in the feeling. “Your tight little pussy feels so good.” Your breathing increased, feeling close to your high as Johnny spanked your ass roughly, most likely leaving a perfectly red handprint. Soon as his hand made contact with your ass again, you were gone, arching your back in a silent scream as your first orgasm of the night rolled over you. “That’s right, sweetheart,” Johnny smirked, obviously not close at all to his own high as he helped you ride out your high. “Come all over this dick.” Once you’d settled down, Johnny suddenly slipped out of you, taking your wrist and dragging you over to the large window. He pressed your naked body front first against the glass, legs still trembling from your release as you watched the unsuspecting people walk by on the street. He kicked your legs wider, running a hand down your back as he guided his member to your dripping heat. Before he pushed into you, Johnny leaned over, resting his chin on your shoulder and licking the skin there, “I’m going to fuck you up against this window for all these people. They’re going to see you spread all pretty for me, baby girl, pressed against the glass like the slut you are.” You moaned loudly, feeling him push into your still flexing walls, a tighter fit than even the first time he entered you. He gave you no time to adjust, fucking you so hard against the window that the glass vibrated dagerously. You felt your heart increase as you were forced to look down at the people walking down on the ground. Someone could look up any minute and see your breasts pressed against the glass and you already felt a blush reaching your cheeks at the thought. For some reason, it excited you being in such a dangerous position. Johnny worked your body like a pro, his much taller height practically lifting you from the ground as you stood on your tip toes. He was hitting a spot inside of you that you didn’t realize was there, and each time he did, your body felt an electric shock. It was intoxicating the way he breath fanned across your back, his small grunts so sensual in your ear that you felt them travel to your core. He let out a groan, “I’m close, baby girl. I’m going to come all over you.” Pressing your cheek against the glass, you reached a hand down to rub yourself to completion. You saw stars as you touched your clit, not realizing such a small bundle of nerves could feel so incredible at just the slightest brush. Johnny saw you touching yourself, pushing your hand aside and replacing it with his own as he panted, “Let me help you out, sweetheart.” You slapped the glass with a hand covered in your essence as he pummeled into you, his thrusts becoming choppier as he approached his high. He suddenly pulled out with a loud groan, “Fuck…” You felt strands of his hot cum land on your back, turning your head to watch him pump his cock to milk it of all his release. Which was apparently a lot, leaving your back completely covered and messy. You shivered at the feeling, still close to your release as you cupped his jaw and kissed his passionately. Pulling away from his lips, you murmured against his lips, “Your cum feels so warm on my skin, Johnny.” He moaned and returned your kiss, sloppily letting his tongue stroke yours, remembering that you hadn’t come yet. Johnny fell to his knees, gold chains clinking lightly as he pushed you against the glass again, this time with your cum covered back smearing it. He spread your legs, a smirk on his face, “Don’t think I forgot about you sweetheart.” You didn’t understand what he meant until he leaned in and licked a stripe up your lower lips, your thighs trembling at the feeling. He mouthed your soaking heat, your fingers gripping at his hair as he made some of the lewdest noises with his mouth. He focused mainly on you clit, his teeth coming out to tug on it lightly as he brought his fingers to your entrance. He slipped two of his long fingers in, pumping them in and out at a nice steady pace as you moaned at the feeling. He hummed, sending gorgeous vibrations onto your clit and making you brain blank as you suddenly came. You arched into his mouth, trembling with your release as he pulled his mouth away and finger fucked you to completion, “That’s right sweetheart, let me have it.” When you came down, he pulled his fingers out and placed them in his mouth, looking up at you through his lashes as he sucked them clean. He placed kisses on your stomach, peeling you away from the mess you’d made on the glass with his come and laying you on your stomach on the bed. You sighed contently, watching as Johnny tucked himself into his sweatpants again and walked into the bathroom. He returned with a washcloth that steamed with warm water, coming over to clean your back of his release. “It’s been a while since someone made me come this much,” he casually observed, wiping you back and pressing kisses to it when he was done. “Usually I would leave right after I fucked someone but…” You felt something akin to hope bubble in your chest, for an unknown reason, and was happy. You tried to appear calm as you turned on your side, “But…what?” Johnny looked at you with a smile, a real one, laying down next to you so that you were face to face, “But, you’re rather interesting.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, “And cute. And beautiful.” You blushed, biting your lip to hide your pleased smile, “Oh.” He watched you amusedly, “Usually I have a personal rule where I don’t date my clients, but you’re a special case I think.” “What’re you trying to say?,” you smiled, feeling brave enough to brush the hair from his eyes. “What I’m trying to say is,” he started, pushing you down into the bed and caging you in with his arms. “I wouldn’t mind taking you out to get coffee sometime soon. So I can get to know the pretty personality behind the pretty face.” You laughed lightly, allowing him to press kisses to your neck, “I wouldn’t mind that at all either.” Johnny looked up at you happily, “Then it’s a date. Now,” he let his hands wander to places he had yet to explore, making you gasp, “we have this room for the rest of the night. Why don’t we put it to good use?”

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