#also how they packed up to another pretty loaded house so easily!

[shallowrambles]

via @angelcasendgame

Look, I know Lisa’s behavior re: letting Dean, someone she hasn’t seen in nearly a decade, skulk around her child’s birthday party is best explained by him being The baby-daddy.

But here’s the rub: (1) the angels didn’t even sniff towards Ben and (2) Lisa is honest. During the year Dean was actively with her, she would have likely told him. Especially under The Truth curse where she ranted about the loss of loved ones/hunting.

So while it is a truth that would be kinder to Lisa’s behavioral health/motivations/etc, the latter plot points don’t support it. Yeah, I agree that it actually makes better sense as an initial explanation for her behavior in her intro ep. But these latter points transform her behavior’s root cause, leaning innuendo towards her as a (possibly chronic?) caretaker type of person.

We do see that she is caring! She’s got a caretaker persona from her first ep, driving her to help her neighbor. She’s a good friend! Because of the later plot points, we can assume this caretaker/gratitude aspect of her character is more the driver of her actions than hiding a paternity.

[sugarbooger513]

Mine (Stepbrother!ChosoxFem!Reader)

This is my collaboration piece for @severelytalentless Are You Afraid of the Dark collab! I had a lot of fun writing this... work. I hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you to my very amazing friends who helped me out during this piece, especially my wifey @kentosovertime and my bestie @roughwithfluff. It wouldn't have ended up as well written as it did without the help.

Warnings: stepcest, possessive nature, unprotected sex (wrap your willies), oral (fem receiving), spit, Choso slaps reader in the face like once, he also slaps in another place, daddy kink, dom Choso, Choso is very petty, mentions of cheating ex, mentions of alcohol and nicotine consumption, degradation, praise, slight breeding kink if you squint

"Don't bother calling me anymore! I see what's more important to you.." You hang up your cell phone and throw it across the room. Your bed feels colder than it usually does, but you lay on it anyways, allowing your tears to flow onto your pillow.

Your boyfriend, now ex, of two years had called you with a plea, begging for your forgiveness. How could you forgive him, though? When you heard about your best friend sleeping with him, you couldn't get the image out of your head. You knew she thought he was attractive, but there was never a worry in your mind that either of them would take it anywhere.

You sit up, suddenly realizing that he would be on his way home from work in an hour, maybe two. You had to leave before he got home. It wasn't like you feared he would hurt you for leaving him, but he would certainly try to guilt you into staying with him.

Your heart rate increases when you realize that you have no idea where you can go. He knows all of your family, and is pretty loved by all of them. Your stepmom even has the habit of calling him her son. 'Her son...'

You rush to grab your phone, dialing the all too familiar number. If there's one person in your family you can call, it's the one he's scared of.

"Y/N," your step brother lets out a long yawn after answering, "what's up?" "B-bubs.." You can hear him drop something on his end. "Honey, why are you crying?" "He.. he cheated on me.. with her.. you were right.."

Choso bites the inside of his cheek, suddenly enraged at the thought. He never liked that guy. When they first met, Choso punched him in the jaw for being an asshole. You were mad at him at the time, but eventually understood why he did it. Since then, your ex was too scared to look Choso in the eyes.

Still, he now finds himself smiling.

"I'm so sorry, honey. Is there anything I can do?" Your sniffle makes him clench his fist. "He's going.. to be home s-soon." "Drive over here. I'll set up the guest-" "C-can you get me..? I don't want him tracking my car.."

Your pitiful voice goes straight to his crotch. Even though no one else is at his home, he finds himself trying to conceal his half hard cock with the kitchen counter.

"Of course, honey. Pack a bag. I'll be there in twenty." "I-I love you, Choso.. thank you." He has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. "I love you too, honey."

When he hangs up, he groans loudly and places his head on the cool marble. "Okay," he talks to himself aloud, "just.. keep yourself in control. You got this, Choso. She's your step sister, for Christ's sake." He shakes his head, grabbing his keys.

Still, he can't deny the things you do to him. It makes him feel terrible, but you're so damn tempting. He always figured that your hugs would last a little too long, your eyes scanned him a little too much, your hands lingered on him a little too suggestively.

He knew better, though. Your teenage years were spent on tons of dates with guys who were the complete opposite of your stepbrother. He would sit in his bedroom, no doubt on a video game, while he listened to guy after guy go in and out of your bedroom. It wasn't like you were a whore.

Those guys just eventually showed their true colors.

He knows that when you love, you love with your entire heart. That's why he was there for you through every heartbreak. He would hold you for hours, dry your tears with his own shirts, make you your favorite snacks, take you on long walks so you weren't cooped in the house all day.

Why? Well, because in his mind you already belonged to him.

You pace your living room, already holding your overnight bag in your hand. Of course, you'll probably stay with Choso more than one night, unless your dad tells you to stay with him and your stepmom instead.

Who are you kidding? If Choso offers to let you stay longer, you would much rather stay there.

Your front door opens, and you jump in fear that your ex came back early. "Shhh, honey it's me." "C-Cho.." Choso walks across the room in quick strides to pull you into his strong embrace.

His hands gently cradle you against his body. "He doesn't deserve your tears Y/N. Don't give him the satisfaction." "Y-you tell me that after every breakup, Choso.." "I know. That's because none of them deserve your kindness."

You close your eyes and feel yourself relax in his strong arms. He's never let you down. Choso has been the only guy in your life to prove he would always be there for you. You truly trust him with your life.

That being said, you can't ignore the feelings that have formed over the years for your stepbrother.

Your fingers grip his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer to you. He sighs softly and buries his face in your hair. "Is there anything I can do for you, Y/N?" "Just... don't leave me. Please?"

His heart pounds in his chest at your feeble plea. His throat seems to dry, so he can't manage to speak. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he clears his throat.

"You know I won't, Y/N. I never have." "And never will?" His large hands squeeze your body a bit harshly, but your breath only increases at the feeling.

"I never will. Now, why don't we get you loaded into the car and get you home?" You finally pull away, blinking your still teary eyes at him so innocently. "Home..?"

The look on your face has his body on fire. You look so damn innocent, just like an angel. They're still red and puffy from your crying, but that only has him straining in his pants.

The things he would give to take the innocence from your face this second..

"Of course. My home is yours for as long as you need." He jingles his keys in an attempt for you to hurry and follow.

"What.. what about as long as I want..?"

That sentence has him blushing furiously. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. You're family and I love you, so my home is yours. We should go though. I don't want to-" His sentence is cut short when you wrap your small arms around his frame.

"Cho.. you're the only person in my life that cares this much.." "Don't say that, princess. You know that isn't true." His large hands are so gentle as they rub your back comfortingly. The small action has your heart pounding.

It also has your core burning for more.

"I-I want to stay with you." "Princess, then why are we still here?" There's a hint of laughter in his teasing tone. "I mean.. stay with you." You bury your face in his broad chest, hoping desperately that he gets the hint.

And oh boy does he ever. He can't help the small groan that escapes his throat at the mere thought.

"Y/N.. you don't mean that." You finally look up, shocked at the tint of rosiness on his usually pale cheeks.

"I-I do mean it.. You're the only guy who has ever-" "I'm family." "Not blood. D-Don't act like you don't feel the same Choso!" His eyes widen, and your accusation has him backing away from you, causing your hope to falter. Had you been mistaken this entire time? Had the stares and lingering touches really just been his own way of showing platonic affection.

"Choso.. I-" "Am I truly that obvious, Y/N?" You blink once, twice before giggling softly. "Y-yeah.. have I not been?" "No. Your.. attention always seemed to be on others. I just assumed.. you saw me as your big brother." You shake your head, walking slowly to stand directly in front of him again.

You've always thought his eyes were gorgeous, a slight grey tint over the almost golden color, they truly are their own unique shade, but right now they seem even brighter.

"I.. I was scared. People would.. call us freaks if anything came of any attraction to each other. I mean.. we've known forever that we weren't related, but our parents have been married-" "Going on ten years now. Even dated for five years before that. Trust me," his hand reaches to touch your cheek gently, as if he's afraid he could break you, "I've been bouncing the pros and cons in my head for so many fucking years."

Your cheek fits so easily in his palm, as if it was made to be there. "So.. who gives a damn about the cons anymore?" His eyes darken at your words, suddenly not focused on your gaze, but your lips. "I don't think I do, Princess." He suddenly turns the two of you, pressing your body into the wall that was originally behind him.

His lips hover centimeters over yours, making you whimper pathetically. "Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you, Y/N." His lips turn at the corners, making the already handsome guy seem even more so. Your hands reach out, gripping the loose t-shirt he's wearing tightly. "I-I need you, Cho. P-please?"

"Well, why don't we take this little.. fiasco to my place?" "No." He tilts his head in confusion as you smirk. "Fuck me on his bed.. onii-chan."

His lips are on yours the instant that word leaves your mouth. Despite the fact you're almost certain that Choso doesn't know what lip balm is, his lips are so plush and soft. It catches you off guard, causing you to moan softly in his mouth.

He isn't shy about exploring your body either. His hands grab every bit of plushness they can. Your hips, thighs, ass, until he finally reaches your breasts. His hands squeeze them harshly, not caring about any actual pain he could bring. You gasp in the kiss, which allows his tongue to finally invade your mouth, easily taking over as the dominant one.

He tastes faintly of cheap wine and cigarettes, but that doesn't shock you. You've spent multiple nights in his room smoking and drinking after rough breakups.

You have to smack at his shoulder a few times before he pulls away, leaving a strand of saliva connecting the two of you. He lets out a deep growl before grabbing your arm to yank you upstairs.

He kicks the bedroom door open, not caring about possibly busting the damn thing. "I have waited for so fucking long," he shoves you onto the queen sized bed that you once shared with your ex, "to have you all to myself. Now that I have you..." He pulls the shirt over his head, causing your eyes to shamelessly wander over his toned body. He catches your gaze, causing him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation. "Oh I am never letting you out of my grasp now, little one."

You sit up and, without a second thought, throw your shirt off and into the floor. "A bit possessive, are we?" He chuckles a bit darkly. "I don't see you complaining. Besides," he rips your pants off in one fluid motion, purring at the dark spot already staining your panties, "it seems you know who you belong to." His head is almost instantly between your legs, his hands shoving your thighs open effortlessly.

He licks a long stripe up your covered slit, causing you to mewl. "Go ahead, princess, tell me exactly who owns you." This time he places a small kiss just over your clit. "F-fuck, you!" "Hmmm," his hand comes down to smack your pussy with an unnecessary amount of force. "Not good enough. Try again." He lands another smack, this one making tears prick your eyes.

"W-what do y-you want-" you cry out as he lands two more smacks on you. The pain is startling at first, but it quickly has you moaning in pleasure. "How about that fun little nickname you've given so many men that have entered your bedroom?" You squeak, making him chuckle. "Oh come on, there's no way you thought I never heard you. Always had the fucking nerve," another smack, this one even harder, "to cry out for other men while I was in my bedroom dreaming of making those pretty eyes cry in my bed. Come on, call me that sweet little name and I'll fuck you better than any of those assholes could have."

The last smack has you screaming, and you can't seem to care that any of your neighbors could hear. "D-Daddy! Y-You own me! I-it's always been you, I swear daddy! P-Please fuck me, I-I need it!"

He groans loudly before ripping your panties from your body. "I'll have to remember that you beg beautifully once I get you home." Two of his fingers spread you apart, and he smirks at the puddle of essence already pooling on the bed. "So fucking wet for me, aren't you?" He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he buries his face in you, eating you out like a man starved.

The sudden onslaught of pleasure makes you try and clamp your thighs closed, but one of his hands shoves it back down. His eyes look up at you as he continues to lap at your drooling pussy. The stare speaks every word he can't at the moment.

This is for his pleasure, not yours, and you're meant to lay back and take what he's giving you.

Your fingers tangle in his raven hair, and the slight pain has him growling against you. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit, sucking harshly, and he shoves two fingers into you without any warning.

You knew beforehand that Choso had slept with at least a few women, so he's not inexperienced, but you never knew that he was this experienced. His long fingers curl into you, pushing against the spot that has you screaming his name to the heavens. He has to rut against your mattress in a desperate attempt to get some sort of relief.

"D-Daddy.. I-I'm g-gonna cum.." He could already tell. Your walls sucked his fingers in as soon as they entered you, so he knew you wouldn't last much longer. "Hmmm," his sharp teeth nip your clit gently, but it still makes you squeak, "I sure hope you aren't telling daddy what you're going to do.. That would be awfully rude of you, little one."

The sheer dominance and control radiating from him has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Since when was your sweet step brother so demanding? "C-can I please cum, daddy? I-It feels t-too good.." You feel that damn smirk against your clit. "Of course, baby. Just scream my name when you do it, okay?"

He really must not like you talking much, because he doesn't let you answer him before he starts ruthlessly pounding his fingers into your cunt. Your entire body arches from the bed as you cry out for him. It takes one last flick of his tongue on your swollen bud to have you writing in the bed, coming completely undone before he even pulled his pants off.

He slows down, but doesn't completely stop, allowing you to ride out your high as he uses his tongue to lap up every drop of sweetness pouring from you. "Good girl, I've got you sweetheart. Are you feeling up for more, or do you need to stop until we go home?"

He sits up, eyeballing your form as he licks his lips clean, ignoring the fact he's dripping your own cum from his chin onto you.

You giggle, still a bit spaced out from the intense orgasm. "W-want you.. inside me, please daddy?" He chuckles softly before reaching to finally unhook your bra and fling it to the side. "Of course baby. Where are your condoms?" "D-Don't have any. I'm on.. the pill." His cheeks flush a bit, but he doesn't question anything else.

He makes quick work of his sweatpants, leaving him in only his boxers. The outline of his cock alone has you snapping back to reality. When he pulls the boxers down, you outwardly moan when it slaps back against his abdomen. He's much bigger than any guy you've had before. Also, it's so.. pretty.

The shaft is a lot like the rest of his skin, a very pale color that almost shines if sunlight hits it. The head is a soft pink, very reminiscent of the blushes he always seemed to get if you teased him too much, with droplets of precum around it. A large vein runs from the underside of it, and you can see it actually throb the more he stares at you.

"See something you like, love?" You whimper at the very affectionate nickname. "I-is it going to fit? I mean.. I've never.." "Don't worry, little one," he gently lays you back, "daddy will get it to fit. If it hurts too much, just let me know. Okay?" he grabs one of your exes' pillows, placing it gently under your lower back. "O-okay, daddy. I trust you."

His smile warms your heart. "That's my good girl. Spread your legs for me." You nod, following his instructions immediately. His hand reaches between the two of you, grabbing his cock and gently rubbing the tip around your entrance. "You sure you want this, Y/N? I don't want you to feel forced." You whimper, nodding instantly. "P-please fuck me, Choso.. I've waited so long.." You spread your legs more, effortlessly enticing him.

When his tip enters you, you're already a moaning mess. It just feels too good. He watches your expressions intently as he slowly pushes into you, searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he's about halfway in, he stops completely.

"How you doin' baby? Any pain?" He leans down to give you a gentle kiss. "G-good. I-it kinda burns, but nothing bad, I promise." He smiles against your mouth and starts to push in again. "We're almost there, little one. Just- fuuuuck." He finally bottoms out, the stretch of it making you whimper loudly and wiggle around. He pants on your face, the scent of you still heavy on his breath.

"S-so fucking tight.. can't believe this is happening..”

He chuckles softly, giving a tentative thrust into your heat. You bite down on your lip, finding both pain and pleasure in the burn that courses through your body. "D-daddy-" He cuts off the rest of your sentence by leaning back onto his knees and grabbing the back of both of your thighs. He manhandles you easily into what you can only assume is a mating press.

"So easy to throw around, aren't you? My pretty baby.." He pulls out of you until only his tip is still inside before slamming back in, causing you to see stars. "You take cock like a pro, baby. I wasn't sure a cute little thing like you could handle it." You tighten around him at his foul language, causing him to growl. "I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby. I'll make sure I'm the only one who can make you scream. You want that, baby? Want daddy to fuck the imprint of his cock into your slutty little hole?"

You throw your head back and cry out for him. "P-please! Make me your little toy, daddy. W-want you to own me.. prove who I belong to, please?" You know you've done it now from the way he snarls at you. However, the sudden ringing of your phone makes both of you freeze. He leans back up to wrap your thighs around his torso.

He's the first to reach to the floor and grab it, still buried deep inside of you. "Oh, lookie there.. a video call. Hello?" Did he-

"Choso? Where is Y/N? Why do you have her phone?" Your ex's voice sounds from the speaker, making your eyes shoot open. You meet Choso's eyes, mouthing the words 'hang up' over and over.

"What does it matter? She dumped you and called me." "Of course she did. Dude, let me talk to her." Choso chuckles darkly, finally thrusting into you, making you squeak loudly despite your best effort to stay quiet.

"What was that?" "Y/N. She's currently.. held up. Or.. down, rather." He smirks at his own joke, reaching down his free hand to start circling your clit with his middle finger. The feeling has you tightening your thighs around his waist.

"You... what?" "Are you deaf and stupid? I said she's busy, aren't you little one?" He smirks down at your form, panting and shaking your head in a desperate, silent plea. This can not be how everyone finds out about this. No way in hell.

Choso's mocking pout makes your face flare up. "She seems a little shy. Let me show you instead." "N-no! Choso I-!" The choking gasp from the phone call shuts you up. Choso's eyes show no mercy as he looks at you almost amused. "That isn't what you should be calling me, is it?"

You look directly at the camera on the back of your phone, your face a deep scarlet color. Before you can correct yourself, the hand that was idly playing with your clit launches up, smacking your cheek with enough force to have your eyes switch to his. He smirks and shoves his index and middle fingers in your mouth without warning, making the ring he wears clack a bit painfully into your teeth.

"Pretty little whore just needs to learn some manners. Don't you, love?" He gets a wicked grin seeing how you blabber around his digits, trying so desperately to behave and give him an answer. "Sorry, princess, I didn't quite hear you. Try again for daddy." He shoves his fingers farther down your throat, causing you to gag and cough. Spit pours out of your kiss bruised lips, making Choso moan above you.

Your teary eyes make him pull his fingers out, wiping the spit across your face. "Why didn't you tell me you couldn't speak? Silly little girl. Now, what should you be calling me?" "D-Daddy! I'm s-so sorry.." He groans, running his thumb down your bottom lip. He gently pries your mouth open before leaning over you, letting spit fall from his tongue into your waiting mouth. He purrs as you swallow it so obediently. "I know you are. You're such a good girl for me. Oh, he hung up." Choso chuckles softly and tosses your phone back to the floor.

"I believe that I have some work to finish, right baby?" Both of his hands grab your hips, surely leaving bruises, before he starts to mercilessly ram into your sopping cunt. Your throat is still somewhat raw from his fingers being in it not two minutes ago, but he's determined to pull every sound he can from you.

He slides one hand down, harshly pinching and rolling your swollen clit between two fingers. Your cries only encourage his ruthless actions.

"D-daddy I-I.. something.. something doesn't-" Your pleas are cut off when the hand on your hip actually lifts you off the bed, giving him enough access for the tip of his cock to batter into your cervix.

If you aren't sore tomorrow, he hasn't done his job.

Sweat drips down his forehead and chest as he growls deeply. "There we go baby. T-that's the spot. Cum for daddy, want you screaming until my name is the only t-thing you know." His hand starts slapping your exposed clit again, finally throwing you over the edge. When the coil in your abdomen snaps, you scream his name, raw throat be damned.

Choso hisses as you tighten around his cock, spraying his lower abdomen in your essence. "Sh-shit I-" His sentence trails off when he thrusts into you one more time, letting out an animalistic snarl as his own climax washes over him.

You can feel his cock throb as he unloads his seed deep inside you. The feeling makes you tremble and mewl. There's so much of it that it still manages to spill out, staining the bed sheets under you.

He's still panting pretty heavily when he slides out of you, careful in case you're still too sensitive. When you squeak, he reaches up to cup your cheek. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." You nuzzle into his hand, placing a small kiss in the palm. "Th-thank you, daddy. I-I'm so tired." When your eyes start to flutter shut, he carefully stands from the bed, shamelessly admiring your disheveled state. "I'm sure you are. Let me get us cleaned up. Then I'll take you home, okay?"

Your small nod is plenty of an answer, so he rushes to the bathroom to search for a rag. He takes only a few seconds to wipe himself clean before rushing back to your side. You wince slightly at the feeling of the cloth wiping you down. "Shhhh, daddy's got you baby. I'll be done in just a second." He smiles to himself as you visibly relax into his touch, allowing him to finish.

"You know," he chuckles as he helps you pull your clothes back on, "your dad is going to try and kill me." "Your mom is going to call me every name in the book." He nods in agreement, finally starting to dress himself.

"So.. should we stay quiet? I imagine shit-for-brain isn't going to, but we can play that off as him being an idiot." You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of either decision.

There's no doubt in your mind, you want to be with Choso. It's clear he's willing to do whatever you want, but from the look in his eyes, the answer is obvious.

"I'm not hiding it." He blinks at you in shock. "B-baby.. your repu-" You stand up, despite your legs screaming in pain. He's quick to rush over and pull you into his chest. "I don't care.. I love you, and I don't want to hide it anymore." You squeak loudly when he picks you up bridal style, holding you easily with one arm.

The kiss he gives you is soft and loving, full of nothing but his affection for you. "I love you too, Y/N. I want nothing more than to tell the world that."

He carries you downstairs to grab your overnight bag, and then out to put you in his car. He really refuses to let you do anything, since he even leans inside to buckle you up. Your protests have him laughing. "When you're with me," he kisses your lips after getting into the driver's seat, "you're the spoiled princess. Got it?"

The drive to his house is quiet. He holds your hand the entire time, stroking along it with his thumb, occasionally bringing it to his mouth and kissing each knuckle.

"Oh.. oh shit." "What?" You open your eyes from almost falling asleep.

Your blood freezes when you see what he's looking at. Your dad's car is already parked in his driveway.

Tags: @katgalle, @savonline

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: August

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: July

Note: I’ve had a super busy day, but I wanted to get this posted so I edited it really quickly. Please forgive me if there’s any little mistakes!

Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented! Hearing your thoughts really makes my day!

-----

August 2020

I think you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who actually enjoys moving - especially if that move involves a three year old who feels the need to be very involved in the packing, but is also incredibly easily distracted. And even more so when that child's father is almost just as distractible and, despite his insistence that he'd stay focused, does more to hinder the whole operation than help.

That was the situation that I found myself in at the end of the first summer of the pandemic because we were moving in with Chris.

While I was hesitant at first, it made the most sense and neither Grayson nor I were particularly eager to return to our tiny little apartment. I still felt that it was pretty early in our relationship for us to be living together, but we'd survived so far and moving back seemed like it would do more harm than good. Grayson had settled in nicely at Chris' house and another big change - like making him go back to having two homes - seemed like it would be very disruptive.

But moving came with it's own challenges.

After our conversation a few months earlier, Chris had told all of his most trusted friends about our change in relationship status. That came in handy as a few of his buddies - who had trucks - had volunteered to help us move things the last weekend of August, but packing had me feeling overwhelmed. I'd managed to give most of the furniture away - between our friends and Chris' family - but we still had way too much stuff.

It was on that Saturday morning that I found myself sitting in the middle of Grayson's old bedroom almost in tears. I'd packed up his mountain of toys the night before only to find Chris and Grayson unpacking several boxes the next morning while I was trying to finish up in the living room. Apparently, Grayson had wanted a certain toy that I'd already packed and instead of telling him to wait because he had several other things to play with that weren't boxed up, Chris helped him look for it.

He was trying to be helpful, thinking that repacking a few things would be easier to deal with than a meltdown from Grayson, but it had been a long, tiring week as I tried to get everything organized and their actions almost pushed me to my breaking point. I scolded them both and banished them to the little playground just outside the building while I set to work cleaning up their mess.

Almost twenty minutes later, I heard a knock on the front door as it creaked open. I poked my head out of the room I was in - ready to send the boys straight back outside - only to see Chris' oldest and closest friend, Tara. She was masked up for safety and knowing how sweet and helpful she was, she was a refreshing sight. I'd met her several times, mostly when Grayson was a baby and I lived with Chris, and she'd been a calming and encouraging presence back then so I was definitely relieved to see her during another time of high stress.

"Hey," I smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought supplies," she informed me, holding up a tray of iced coffees. "Chris called and said that he thought you could use some help."

"You're a lifesaver," I groaned with pleasure as she put down the tray and handed me one of the drinks. "I need this, thank you so much."

"You're welcome," she returned my smile. "How's the packing going?"

"Not bad now that the boys are outside," I laughed. "It's pretty much all done, I think. You never realize how much junk you have until you have to pack it all up."

"Oh my god, I know. We moved last year and it felt like the piles of things we had to take was never ending."

"It's crazy," I agreed. "Especially with all Gray's stuff. I thought we did a good job of not spoiling him, but he has an insane amount of toys."

"I can imagine," she cringed. "But I have no plans all day so just tell me what you need help with and I'm all yours."

I thought for a moment as I sipped the coffee she'd brought me until I had an idea.

"Actually..." I started, feeling a bit sheepish. "Would you be willing to take Grayson for a bit? I know it's a big ask, especially while he's so excited, so feel free to say no."

"Are you kidding? I'd love to take him!"

I let out a breath of relief as I felt my body relax.

"Thank you so much. I really need Chris to help me carry these boxes and he's been so preoccupied with Grayson that he's been no use at all," I explained. "It's a big change and he's worried about him being freaked out by it all, which I totally get, but I need him to focus a bit too."

Tara laughed and shook her head.

"I get it, don't worry. I know what he can be like," she assured me. "I'll go down and get Gray now and send Chris up here."

"Thank you. You're the best, Tara."

She waved off my gratitude and insisted it was no problem before leaving me to turn my attention back to what I'd been doing before she arrived.

-

Once Grayson was in the safe care of Tara, Chris was much more useful. We were packing things with impressive speed and when it was almost time for his friends to show up with their trucks, we started moving things down to the lobby of the building to make the loading process quicker.

I was a tad nervous about the whole situation as I hadn't spent much time with most of Chris' friends and I didn't really know what they thought of me. I hoped they'd be understanding of our situation and give me a chance, but if he really had been pining away for me all these years - thinking that I didn't want to be with him - I worried that they'd think I was selfish and heartless.

Those worries, combined with my stress about getting everything organized, had me still feeling rather on edge. It didn't help that the creepy maintenance man that I'd warned Chris about was watching us like a hawk. I could feel his eyes on me every time I stepped foot in the lobby and the sensation made my skin crawl. I just wanted to get it all done and over with as fast as possible so we could get away from him, but Chris had clearly noticed him too and I could feel his annoyance rising as well.

He held it together until our last trip down when our spectator really crossed a line. I was bending over to place some boxes on the ground when I could have sworn I heard a groan of pleasure from behind me. I snapped back up to standing and looked over my shoulder to see the man with a smirk on his face and his eyes fixed on me. It made my stomach churn, but Chris was immediately by my side, his arm sliding around my waist. Before I could even question what he was doing, he pulled down his mask and then my own, cupped my jaw with his hand and pulled me in for a kiss.

It was a rather passionate embrace and I was surprised as he usually wasn't one for public displays of affection. Then it hit me why he was doing it and I felt a flash of annoyance run through me as he pulled away. There was a smirk on his face as he rested his forehead against mine, but all I could muster was a frown.

"Do you think he got the hint?"

I scoffed at his question.

"I think he got enough pictures to pay his bills for the next few months," I huffed, keeping my voice low so we wouldn't be overheard. "Are you done marking your territory now?"

Chris looked taken aback by my harsh tone and I sighed as I slipped out of his grasp and headed to the door. I wanted to see if his friends had arrived yet and get away from the creep, but Chris followed and wasn't prepared to let our conversation drop.

"What, so I'm not allowed to kiss you in public in case someone sees?" He asked once we got outside, his own annoyance coming through. "I thought you didn't care if people found out about us?"

I stopped walking and spun around to face him.

"I don't care," I snapped. "But I'd rather not give some pervert the chance to profit off of us just to save your wounded pride."

Even with his mask pulled back up, I could see Chris' jaw clench with frustration.

"He was being disrespectful. I was standing right there and he moans while staring at your ass? C'mon, he's a fuckin' asshole."

Another flare of anger washed over me as I fought to keep myself calm enough to explain to him why what he'd just said was almost as frustrating as the actions of the man who'd been ogling me.

"He was being disrespectful," I agreed, my voice steady despite my rising temper. "But to me, not to you! It doesn't matter if I have a boyfriend or not, he shouldn't behave like that towards any woman! I don't deserve to be respected because of you, I deserve to be respected because I'm a human being who has a right to feel safe in their own apartment building."

Chris' shoulders dropped as he took in my words and visibly calmed down, but I was still feeling wound up.

"Shit, Winnie, you're right," he relented. "I don't want anyone to treat you like that ever, not just because you're my girlfriend. It just pissed me off that he had the balls to do that even in front of me."

"So kissing me like that to send him a message was the best solution you could think of? Like, 'don't touch this one, she's mine'. It made me feel gross. I don't need you claiming me in public to scare off creeps, thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that," Chris insisted, looking slightly wounded by my scolding. "I'm sorry, I was being an idiot."

"Okay," I shrugged, somewhat blowing off his apology. "We should go to the parking lot. Your friends might be here."

"Are we good, Win?" He asked, clearly not as eager to let the subject drop. "I want to make this right if you're upset..."

"I'm fine," I sighed, knowing that was only half true. It was only half his fault though, the stress of the day overall was more to blame and, at that point, I just wanted it to be over so I could have a nice big glass of wine. "Let's just go see where your friends are."

He didn't argue as I walked off and when we turned the corner into the parking lot, his friends were all there lined up in the visitor's spots. I forced a smile despite the fact that it was hidden by my mask and waved as we walked over.

"Hey!" I greeted them. "Thanks so much for doing this. We really appreciate it."

"Ah, no worries!" Jon assured me. "But, are you really sure you want to move in with this guy?"

"Yeah, we were just talking," Zach continued. "And it feels a bit Stockholm syndrome-y. He confines you to a house and suddenly you fall in love? Seems a bit suspicious."

"Wow, guys, glad you're on my side," Chris laughed. "I wouldn't have asked you to help out if I knew you'd try and change her mind!"

"We just want to make sure we're not committing any crimes here," Luke insisted. "I don't want to be an accomplice to anything and we're all scratching our heads about what she could see in you."

Chris shook his head at their teasing and I tried to push our earlier discussion from my mind as I giggled and slid my hand into his. I felt him tense up in surprise at the gesture, but he relaxed as I squeezed it and leaned against his arm.

"There's no Stockholm syndrome here," I assured them. "It just took a pandemic and the constant threat of impending doom for me to come to my senses. I'm just lucky Chris was silly enough to wait for me."

Chris chuckled and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of my head as his friends rolled their eyes.

We quickly went over the game plan for the day once the initial greeting was over and as soon as his friends turned to head towards the building, I dropped my hand from Chris'. I knew I was being petty and sulky and from the sigh that fell from Chris' lips, he did too, but I couldn't help it - I needed some space to work through my cranky mood on my own. Luckily, Chris seemed to figure that out pretty fast and left me to my brooding as we followed his friends and got to work.

-

It didn't take us as long as I expected to load all the boxes into the trucks, but that was probably the benefit to having a team of strong men helping you move. Once it was all unloaded into the spare bedroom at Chris' place where I had been sleeping at the start of the pandemic, Chris broke out a few beers for his friends and fired up the grill while we waited for Tara and Gray to arrive. It was a beautiful, warm evening and perfect for an impromptu barbecue to thank all Chris' friends and it was a great opportunity for me to bond a bit more with some of the most important people in Chris' life.

Grayson knew them all better than I did, but we had some concerns that the lack of socialization would make him nervous around the now somewhat unfamiliar faces. But he put those worries to bed almost as soon as he arrived as he was the life of the party. He was thrilled to see the three men who were sitting in the lawn chairs dotted around our yard - in an effort to keep everyone somewhat distant from each other - and the cheer they let out as soon as they saw him made me think they were just as excited. They seemed to really adore him and he thrived on the attention. It warmed my heart to see the genuine care they all had for Grayson - it was wonderful to know he had so many people in his corner - and I was relieved when that care was extended to me.

Any doubts that I'd had about them accepting me were quickly pushed from my mind as they seemed to be just as eager to get to know me as I was to get to know them. They were all lovely, kind people and I wondered why I ever expected anything else from the people in Chris' inner circle.

They left as soon as Grayson's bedtime rolled around - partially because we were all tired from our long day of moving boxes and partially because we all knew there was no way that Gray was going to agree to go to bed while the party was still going. Once they were gone, he demanded Chris tuck him in so I tidied up in the kitchen while he handled bedtime.

As soon as I'd finished putting the last few dishes in the dishwasher, I felt his arms around my waist.

"Hey," he whispered in my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Thanks for cleaning up."

"You don't need to thank me," I smiled, turning in his arms so we were face to face. "It's my house to keep clean too now, even if that's still weird to think about."

"Weird in a good way?"

"Definitely," I nodded. "It's felt like home here for a while now. It would have been awful to go back to that little apartment."

"It would have been weird for me too," Chris agreed. "I can't imagine being in this big house without you guys anymore."

"You'd have to move all your friends in," I teased, using it as a segue. "Who, by the way, are all very nice."

"Yeah?" Chris grinned. "You think so?"

"I do. I was a bit nervous about it," I admitted. "In case they resented me for how our relationship unfolded, but they're great."

"They never resented you at all," Chris chuckled. "Pretty much everyone who knows about our first night together was on your side about that and they've been pushing me to make a move ever since."

"Well, that's good to know."

Chris nodded and continued.

"They all really like you. Jon gave me clear instructions to not fuck it up."

I laughed at that, but felt a wave of relief.

"I appreciate their support."

"Well, you definitely have it."

Chris leaned down to press his lips against mine and I melted into his body, feeling the exhaustion from the stress of the day start to hit me. We stayed like that, just holding each other for a few minutes until Chris broke the silence around us.

"Can we talk about earlier?"

My stomach churned with embarrassment at the memory, but I nodded.

"Of course, we can. I'll start by saying that I'm sorry."

Chris leaned back slightly, just enough to look down at me with his confusion written all over his face.

"You're sorry? Why are you sorry?" He asked. "I brought it up so that I could apologize to you."

"You don't need to," I assured him. "I get why you did what you did. I just don't deal with stress very well and the whole day was overwhelming me. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"You don't deal with stress very well? I never would have known!" His words were laced with sarcasm as he smiled down at me and I laughed, gently smacking his chest in protest. "But seriously, I deserved a good scolding. You were absolutely right with what you said, I shouldn't have handled the situation like that."

"I appreciate that you can see where I was coming from," I sighed. "But there is no perfect way to handle a situation like that, really. It's best just to ignore it, but then it feels like you're letting the gross guy win."

"Well, if we're ever in a situation like that again, I'll follow your lead," he insisted. "But I can't say that I'll just ignore it. I might just punch the guy out for being a creep."

I laughed again before shaking my head.

"And then whoever is watching will have a different kind of picture to sell to the trashy magazines."

Chris cringed at that comment.

"I'm sorry. Do you really think he took pictures?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "But if he recognized you then I'd be surprised if he didn't."

Chris nodded, clearly getting lost in thought for a moment before he spoke again.

"And you really don't care if proof gets out that we're together?"

"I don't," I insisted. "I don't like the idea of some pervert making money off of us, but I don't care if people know we're together. It might be good for people to get used to the idea now, when we're hiding at home all the time anyway. By the time we can go outside again, no one will care enough to take pictures of us."

"That might be wishful thinking," Chris smiled. "But I'll do my best to keep you out of the spotlight."

I matched his smile and stretched up to place a kiss on his lips.

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

As I predicted, the creepy maintenance man did take pictures of us and he did sell them to some trashy magazine. The internet was horrified, the hearts of fangirls all over the world were broken and I was called every cruel name under the sun. There were rumours that I trapped him with another baby and rumours that I was a gold digger - just using Chris for his money so I didn't have to work during the pandemic. The general reception to the forced confirmation of our relationship was pretty abysmal, but nothing worse than we expected and at the end of the day we didn't care.

All the people who truly cared about us were happy for us and that was the most important thing.

-

September

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99

[cno-inbminor]

a/n: drabble dump for our boy kuroo -- i love him loads and think about him endlessly. i also apologize beforehand for the awkward ending bc i’m terrible at ending things. hope you all enjoy! gonna go knock back a melatonin and sleep my wooziness away

w/c: ~2.4k; some angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol

you’re avoiding tetsurou, and he’s keen on figuring out why. college!au, friends to lovers.

“you’re not as slick as you think, y’know.”

instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine, electrifying you in quick, tiny bursts. those eight, nine words were more than enough to let you know who was standing behind you, peering over your shoulder in an effort to catch your gaze. his voice made your heart clench and lungs fight for oxygen – you begin to curse the high, intellectual level of tetsurou’s observational skills. you just wanted to make it another day without seeing his face outside of class, opting more for longer walks and just looking back to see the back of his stylishly mussed hair in the far distance. it frustrates you how much you’ve used the word ‘infuriating’ when it comes to him, but there’s no other better word you can think of without having to consult the thesaurus.

you have a few seconds to dart your eyes around, desperately searching for a way to escape. your productivity typically thrives within the library, but he’s always there, so with lots of pleading and promises of baked goods and decent coffee, you were able to borrow a close friend’s ID, a graduate student, and access the graduate resource room in a less traveled hallway. and in the expanse of that area, you’ve tucked yourself away into the back corner behind some shelves where almost no one visits. but it leaves you cornered and vulnerable – no matter which direction, in combination with his long legs, tetsurou would catch up to you in a heartbeat. you thought you had finally found a way to permanently escape his grasp, but apparently not.

much like you, he’s not supposed to be able to access this area. after all, you’re both senior undergrads so –

“how did you get in here?” you quietly hiss. you’re pretty sure you’d be booted out if you made any sound above 15 decibels, and you’re not about to let tetsurou ruin this haven for you.

there’s a rustle of clothing, a hand that rests on the back of your seat, and the hairs on the nape of your neck spike, before a delicate whisper informs, “you’re not the only one with grad student friends, love.”

if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself rigid, body absolutely understanding of the effect that this man has on you, you definitely would’ve shivered from the proximity. but the gentleness in his tone sends you back to three weeks ago – you’re no longer under a fluorescent light tucked between cream-colored walls, but rather basked in a somewhat garish hue of crimson. your veins were tinged with alcohol, the substance leaving you feeling like you were on clouds, a silly smile breaking across your face uncontrollably. other bodies surrounded you but the only one you were focused on was the one in front of you, following your swaying movements to the beat of the music coming through someone’s speakers. even in the warmth of the house, tetsurou’s hands on your waist seared your skin, branding the feeling on you for eternity. his eyes twinkled with apparent affection, unbridled and screaming at you for you to understand the line he wanted to so desperately cross, that the alcohol pushed it behind his efforts to deny himself the one thing he’s been searching for in all these years.  

“i’m a little drunk, but fuck, you have no idea how bad i wanna kiss you,” he had murmured just loud enough into your ear, then ghosting his lips over the shell of it. everything around you dissolved into a blur as you could only focus on his breaths and the tightening of his grasp on you. his confession wasn’t completely unwarranted – not at all.

tetsurou and you had met in the quantitative analysis lab freshman year, having been assigned as partners for the semester just by how the ta’s drew the seating chart. he was a friendly, kind soul – had saved your ass multiple times from overshooting your titrations, prevented multiple beakers and graduated cylinders from falling over, always down to compare numbers to help ensure that neither of you were fucking up too hard.

coincidentally, the two of you were registered to the same ochem lab the next year and immediately gravitated towards each other, grateful to find some familiarity in all the anxiety. he witnessed your breakdown mid-lab, did his best to comfort you and salvage your sample so there was enough for recrystallization because you somehow got landed with a shitty, leaking separatory funnel, and stayed back with you when you had fallen behind in the cleanup process. from then on, it was a weekly habit to study together and work on your lab journals and reports together, not taking long to become close friends.

tetsurou did his best to keep his growing feelings at bay, knowing that you had explicitly mentioned swearing off relationships as you tried to figure out your future first. he wasn’t oblivious enough to think that you didn’t feel anything for him whatsoever – you were stubborn and tenacious at best. the house party at miya atsumu’s was simply a suggestion for the both of you to relax after a brutal midterm in your inorganic chemistry course, to let loose and treat yourself. he really hadn’t meant to say what he said, but just looked so good, so lovely and beautiful and enthralling, and you were looking at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky – he knows he’s sent that same look to you multiple times when you weren’t looking, completely sober and unfazed.

he couldn’t stop himself from leaning close into you that night and you hadn’t stopped in – he knows he should’ve resisted, but feeling your soft lips against his was easily one of the top ten highlights of his college career, and his love for you only surged beyond his hold, overwhelming him to the point where all he could think about was nothing but holding your cheek in the palm of his hand so he could get a better angle and let himself indulge just this once.

that’s all it was – kissing and kissing in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor until there was no more oxygen left in either of your lungs. like a decent human being, he dropped you off at your apartment and bid you goodnight, hoping that you wouldn’t forget all the events that had transpired. and maybe, just maybe, he wished that you would let it happen again, that you could make him the exception in your plans.

evidently, you did remember it, because suddenly your responses to his texts were delayed and dry. you were picking up extra shifts, showing up to class at the very last minute, and leaving as soon as the professor dismissed you, allowing practically no room for him to make small talk. and while he would usually pass you in the halls of the chem building at some point, you were always too far from him and scurrying away in a different direction. tetsurou did his best to give you your space, but the less he saw of you, the more nervous and frustrated he grew. there was a wrench thrown into his daily routine, and your presence had always managed to bring some peace to him. so when he realized that you had truly abandoned your usual study spot in the library a week and a half later, he set himself on a mission to find out exactly where you were hiding.

it honestly had been sheer luck that he saw your figure ducking around into a hallway he’s never bothered to go down, and by the time he caught up, the door to the graduate resource room had just closed on your and there was no way he could get in without some help. luckily, his mentor who had stayed at the university for their phd was pretty nonchalant about letting him borrow it for a few days, preferring to study at home or in a coffee shop off-campus themselves.

he knew that since you were hiding, you were probably going to be in the most inconspicuous spot possible. so while there was some time dedicated to navigating the new maze of an area, he immediately felt a sense of relief when he saw your back hunched over your notes, hair tied up into a messy bun, and your laptop open with a spotify playlist.

after you’re done reminiscing, you begin to pack your stuff up, opting to just nor respond to tetsurou and ignoring the pleasant sensation that his term of endearment for you brought. he pulls back and stands straight to give you some room, but the tapping of his foot against the tile floor speaks to his blooming agitation at your silence. you’re still wordless as you weave between the shelves to the exit, knowing that the man plaguing your dreams is not far behind. the game of ‘follow the leader’ (or is it ‘cat and mouse’?) continues until you both have exited the main door, and right before you can walk down the granite steps, tetsurou seizes the opportunity to run ahead of you and stand in your way.

“tetsu, please,” you sigh, avoiding his piercing stare by fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket. “is there something you need?”

“you can’t play coy with me,” he chastises, bending down slightly in hopes that you’ll finally look at him. “you know why i’m here.”

it’s a bad habit of yours to nibble on the inside of your lips when you’re searching for the right things to say. tetsurou only picked up on it just last year – the action itself is very subtle to the outside viewer, and he hadn’t been paying close enough attention back then. “don’t bullshit me right now.”

“do we have to do this now?” you whine a bit.

“yes, or else i’m never gonna get you to talk to me. come on, you don’t do this, love.”

“what do you mean?”

“you’re running away. that’s pretty cowardly, don’t you think? you’ve had 3 weeks—”

you start to walk forward and around his tall, lanky figure. “i’m not humoring you with this—”

“with what—”

“—you’re doing that provoking thing, you’re trying to get me to think that i’m wrong in avoiding you—”

“so you have been avoiding me—”

“i said not now!” you protest in a raised voice, path once again blocked. tears of frustration are beginning to build in the corners of your eyes, and you’re cursing yourself for feeling so weak in this moment. part of you wants nothing more than to run into his arms.

it’s dead quiet for a few seconds – the ambient noise of the wind and the occasional passing car this late at night fail to make themselves known over the pounding of blood in your ears. only tetsurou’s first knuckle underneath your chin to raise you up grounds you, and you can no longer avoid his gaze. small crests of guilt wash over you as you recognize the uncharacteristic brokenness in his eyes – the last three weeks must’ve been much harder on him than you thought.

“just hear me out for a few minutes, okay? you can make your decision then.”

he takes your nod as a signal to continue, but also softening a bit at how nervous you look.

“i’m in love with you,” he softly confesses, a smile of defeat gracing his complexion. “and i have been for a while. i don’t think i’m bullshitting when i say i think you feel something for me, too, but i knew it wasn’t in your plans. didn’t wanna push or force you into making a decision when you weren’t ready. so i held back – but i couldn’t help it at the party, and…i’m sorry, love. i really am.”

tetsurou doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your eyes. “so does that mean you regret it?” you bite out, nails clenching and digging into the fabric of your jacket sleeves. he shakes his head.

“i don’t regret kissing you at all – it’s all i’ve wanted to do for the last two and a half years. but i’m just sorry that i did it without your explicit, sober permission. i went against your wishes in a time of vulnerability, and that’s pretty shitty of me – i’m not gonna excuse myself either just because i was a little drunk, so i hope you’re able to forgive me.”

he watches you sniffle and fight the grin that’s trying to creep across your face. “someone had their shot of respect women juice this morning, didn’t they?” you chokingly tease.

“five shots directly injected into my veins, every morning,” he jokes back, thumb sweeping over to catch your falling tears. “but i mean it though – i’m really sorry.”

“you’re forgiven, and i appreciate that more than you know. but if i’m being honest…it was something i’ve wanted to do for a while, too. i was just really scared because it was so unexpected and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for our relationship to change, or like if i would be emotionally available enough for you, y’know?” you blubber, hand reaching up to rest against his on your cheek.

“hey—”

“i really want this to work out.” tetsurou can hear your voice shake, and he’s sure you’re almost trembling. “you’re one of my best friends – i can’t lose you, tetsu. and what about grad school? what if we end up too far away from each other and video calls aren’t enough? what if you get tired of me or—”

“i know you hate it when i interrupt, but honestly (y/n), you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. i’m gonna do everything i can to make this work, too, mmk?”

“okay,” you whisper. “okay.”

his thumb gently sweeps back and forth against your cheek for a little bit before speaking up again. “not to ruin the moment, but do i have permission to kiss you now?” his eyes shine despite the midnight sky, and you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your chest.

tetsurou swears up and down that your kiss in response is much, much sweeter than the one at the party, and he can’t wait to see what the future holds for you two.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch7: Eight Letters, Three Words, One Meaning

Summary: Katie and Steve’s relationship is blossoming, but they’ve still not come out to the rest of the team. Well, not yet anyway…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, spiders (yeah, okay, I need a warning for those eight legged freaks) Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: More credit to my edit partner, @angrybirdcr​

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 6

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

June 2013

Katie was trying to listen, she really was, but the warmth of the June sun was lulling her to sleep, despite the fact she had only gotten up two hours or so ago. She was trying to focus on the intelligence that had come out of the Department of Damage Control, that a Warehouse in Columbia was housing a load of the alien based weapons for sale on the black market.

Maybe if she just closed her eyes….

She found herself daydreaming. About her favourite thing to day dream about. Steve. It was now five weeks since they had started dating and two weeks since they had been caught by Tony. Since then they’d spent pretty much every other evening wrapped around one another post making out. Sometimes it would just be a bit of heavy kissing, sometimes there would be a little more. Like when he had lain over her on the bed, kissing her neck, lips, chest, before slipping his hands into her panties for the first time as he’d coaxed her to completion that way before she’d returned the favour, wrapping her palm around him, bringing him off.

And then yesterday had been her birthday, which had brought her one hell of a present.

Katie had been on at him for as long as she could remember for a ride on his motorbike so, amongst other presents, Steve had Clint help him research the best helmet he could get and he’d bought her one, much to her excitement. She’d squealed and then squealed some more when he had revealed they were off out for the afternoon. He’d packed an evening picnic and taken her up to Rock Creek Park where they’d eaten subs, muffins and were now laid back on the blanket, her head resting on his chest.

“Your hair smells different…nice different…” He nuzzled his nose into it.

“Oh, it’s a different shampoo…” She grinned “It was in the hamper of ridiculously expensive toiletries and make-up that Tony sent me. Or should I say Pepper, as he will have had no idea about any of that stuff…”

“Smells of cookies.”

“It has oatmeal in so you’re not far off.” She smiled, looking up at the sky.

The pair of them stayed still, his hand straying into her hair before he broke the calm silence.

“You know, when I was a kid…me and Bucky used to play a game, spotting shapes in the clouds” he said

“Tony used to do that with me.” she smiled, shifting her head so that the back of it still lay across his chest but she could see upwards “See, there’s a dog…”

“Looks more like a cow to me…” He cocked his head to one side.

“A cow?” she snorted, “Where have you ever seen a cow look like that?”

The two of them stayed like that for another hour or so, playing shapes and making conversations before the sun began to stray behind the trees. Reluctantly Katie agreed it was probably time to go home.

“I’ve had,” she undid the strap on her baby blue and silver helmet, pulling it off with a flourish as she stepped off the bike outside her apartment, “the most amazing birthday, thank you…”

She reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it doll.” He said gently as she reached into her back pocket for her key card. Smiling he dropped his hand to her waist as they walked to the elevator. When the doors opened, Katie tugged on his hand gently and led him in after her. Once in her apartment, he allowed just enough time for them to remove their jackets and for Katie to hang her new helmet in pride of place on the hooks before his lips crashed onto hers, the kisses growing deeper, and he hooked his hands round the back of her thighs and easily picked her up. She giggled, wrapping her legs round his waist, her nose brushing against his as he carried her up the stairs, dropping her gently on the bed. She spread her legs making room for him so he could settle his hips in between the space they made as she wrapped her arms round his neck, his hands gently running up the side of her ribs, pulling off the t-shirt she was wearing, cupping her face in his hands. He let out a soft moan as her hands started to slide down his chest and it was clear she had intentions of using her hands, if not her mouth as well, on him again but that wouldn’t do, not on her birthday.

“Uh-uh not tonight baby girl.” He said, gently grabbing her wrists.

She frowned and looked genuinely pissed off that he was stopping her. As she pouted at him, he simply smiled “It’s your birthday, after all.” He whispered into her mouth before setting her hands down on the pillow on either side of her head before turning his attention to her chest, sucking and biting through her bra, listening to the sounds she made right by his ear. He continued his affections downwards, pressing small kisses all the way down her body until his nose was skimming along the waistband of her jeans. She let out a groan of delight as he brought his hands up to undo them and started guiding them down. 

The idea of tasting her like this had been on his mind since she had first done it to him but he was utterly lost, with no idea on what to do next. He glanced up at her, swallowing slightly and instantly understanding that he needed encouragement, Katie reached down to tangle her fingers in his hair, raising her hips to help him remove the jeans and her underwear. She knew he had never done this before, but now, as she gently bent her knees to allow him access she heard him let out a soft moan of his own and watched him as he snuck one glance up at her and then set his mouth on her.

It took a while, her guiding him gently, telling him what she liked, what was working and what wasn’t but she didn’t really have to give him too much direction. What he lacked in skill he made up for with dogged determination and eventually, her breathy directions died in her throat and then she was moaning and writhing in pleasure as his mouth worked her over, one hand in his hair and the other gripping the sheets. Her sweet, salty tang on his tongue set every nerve in his body on edge and the more he tasted the more he wanted.

Katie could hear and feel him groaning with each lick and suck he gave her. He was aroused, really aroused and surprised to find the warm feeling across his stomach was getting harder to ignore the more he worked her. When he focused his attention back on her little bundle of nerves, licking at it before closing his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth she was done. Her body convulsed, her back arched and she let out a strangled cry, his name on her lips and it made him slightly smug to hear. Steve held her down gently, one strong arm over her small waist and as her hand gripped his hair harder and she groaned brokenly once more, he felt himself go, tipping over the edge and he shuddered gently as his own release washed over him. Katie pushed her hand into his hair, having become too sensitive, gently moving his mouth away from her. Taking the hint, he obliged, kissing his way back up her body, pressing his mouth onto hers.

“Good?” He asked breathlessly, staring at her, seeking confirmation despite the fact she lay completely and utterly undone beneath him.

“God, yes.” Her voice was gruff, as she kissed him, the fact that he could still clearly taste her on his tongue meant that she would be able to too, and the fact that she didn’t care made him shudder, though that also might have something to do with the mess he’d once again made in his pants like a horny schoolboy.

As they kissed she began to trail her hand back down his chest reaching for his buckle but he stopped her again, pulling away.

“I err….” he trailed off, dropping his head slightly embarrassed. But he needn’t have been. The fact that he’d gotten off on giving Katie what was, frankly, the best orgasm she could remember having made her grin and she cocked her head to one side as she eyed him, tipping his head up to look at her.

“Best birthday present ever.” She smirked, drawing a laugh from him before he kissed her again.

“Agent Stark!” Fury barked, jerking her awake. Damned, had she actually fallen asleep in briefing? Steve was perched on the edge of Fury’s desk, and Katie could tell he was fighting to keep a smirk off his face.

“Sorry Sir, didn’t get much sleep last night.” She avoided looking at Steve as she spoke, her mouth tugged upwards at the corners.

Besides her she heard Clint give a snigger which he hastily turned into a cough. Of course he knew about the pair of them. Him, Natasha and Evans being the only people on the team that did although Katie and Steve had both admitted they didn’t really know how much longer they could keep it clandestine.

“So as I was saying,” Fury shot Katie another look as Natasha played along, patting Clint harshly on the back. “Salaad Ali.” Fury pointed at the picture of the main man responsible for the arms ring we had been tracking over the middle East . “Do we know much about him?”

“He’s a sick bastard” Clint sat up, suddenly all business. “Came across him on an op in 2009. Apparently when he was active as part of the regime under Sadam Hussein he was tasked with taking out a Kurdish fighter cell that was stockpiling munitions. He was undercover for a month. Then one night he kidnaps a guard, peels off the skin from his right hand, completely, and wore it like a glove to gain access to their stores using the biometric scanners.”

“That’s about power.” Katie took a breath as she rose from her seat. “Mocking and goading the people who he’s stealing off. Look at me, not only did I infiltrate your organisation, I maimed your security guard in the process.”

Fury invited her to take the floor and she stood up and spoke confidently. “From what I’ve read he’s obviously an organised offender.” Steve had to smile, before she had trained as a sniper after Clint had discovered she had a natural eye for a shot, she had joined STRIKE as a Mission Analyst-slash- Target Profiler. And she was good at it. “He’s sophisticated in his approach, and is a meticulous planner.”

“You have to be to pull off the sort of crimes he has, these are big jobs.” Clint said. Katie nodded as she paced slightly, the way she always did when she was thinking.

“I also believe from the other things he has allegedly done, the murders, rapes…he’s a control freak, a sadist, type of person who will always want the last word in the argument so to speak. Therefore, if he knows someone is on to him, he won’t come quietly.” She stopped by Steve and looked at Fury, then round the room at the assembled team. “We should be prepared for a fight. And they’ll be fighting to kill, not wound.”

“Can’t the air force just blow the place up?” Rumlow asked as Steve adjusted his stance slightly, his hand’s dropping to the buckle on his belt as he studied the man before his attention turned to Fury.

“If it was that simple we would have already sent in an air strike.” The Director shook his head, pushing a button to show a map. Besides him, Steve felt Kate shift a little and he stole a glance at her to see she was concentrating on the screen,  her chin resting on the closed fist of her left hand, elbow supported on her right arm which was crossed over the front of her body. Steve watched as her eyes flicked over the details and he turned to the screen as well, immediately spotting what the problem was.  

“There’s a civilian village less than five hundred yards away.” He sighed. “That place goes up so do they.”

“Exactly.” Fury nodded.

“Not to mention those weapons are really volatile.” Katie took a deep breath. “If they have as many as we suspect, then if they go up, it’s gonna leave one hell of a hole.”

“Which is why you need take the base and clear out the weapons.” Fury nodded. “And bring Ali in, I have some questions for him before we turn him over to the Authorities.”

*****

They decided to operate under the cover of darkness, to give them the element of surprise. Once they had some form of plan- a heat scan as they hovered over the building told them how many people were in the building and once they had established that they moved in. They operated as a well-organised unit, quickly and meticulously flushing out the hostiles.

It was all going too smoothly, especially as Ali was still in the building. Capturing him was surprisingly easy, even if it was Natasha that found him. In hindsight, that should have been a warning sign they probably should have spotted. As Rumlow and Natasha were leading him away, the team already having dispatched the rest of the hostiles, Steve, Clint and Katie headed deeper into the warehouse to locate the weapons themselves when, just as they found a hidden room off the main service corridor, there was a loud clicking noise and Clint stopped dead.

“Shit.” He muttered and Katie wheeled round and he held his hand up to her. “Don’t move.”

“What…” Katie followed his gaze and swallowed when she saw his foot resting over a small metal pad on the creaking floor boards of the first floor room they were in.

“Yeah…we have a problem.” Clint sighed, looking at her then to the Captain “Should have seen that one coming.”

He’s the type of guy that will want the last laugh, so if he knows someone is on to him, he aint coming quietly

Steve scanned the floor and spotted another trigger a few feet away from Katie. Pulling her to the left away from it he looked around the room.

“What’s going on?” Rumlow asked over the coms.

“The son of a bitch has the place rigged.” Clint wiped his brow “ I’ve triggered some kind of sensor pad.”

“If he’s laying traps in here then the weapons have to be nearby…” Steve said, as Katie dropped to her hands and knees, torch shining through the dirty, well-worn floorboards.

“The device has to be under here…” she said, and she began to follow the wire across the floor, keeping her eyes peeled for more booby-traps, as Steve carefully made his way into a small room off to their right avoiding another trigger as he went. His eyes scanned the various crates of the familiar shining metal weapons and he sighed.

“Found the jackpot…”

“So have I.” Katie said, stopping crawling as the wire ended. She could just about make out the metal box, a red light flashing ominously through the gaps.

“Ok, we’re coming to you.” Rumlow spoke again

“No!” Steve hastily turned and walked back into the main room. “We don’t know how many of these he has laid around the place. Wait for my instructions.”

He glanced over at Clint who was stood, motionless, his eyes focussed on his foot.

“Barton, you okay?”

“Peachy, Cap” he said, looking up “Guess my Hawk eyes let me down”

“Happens to the best of us.” Steve looked at him as Katie stood up, pointing to her foot.

“It’s under there.”

“How big is it?” Steve asked.

“It doesn’t matter how big”. She said gently “It explodes then those weapons go up…” She trailed off.

And Clint dies no matter what, and as they wouldn’t ever leave a man behind, so did they.

"We need to start evacuating civilians.” Steve took a deep breath, “Rumlow…”

“We can start clearing the village but how many we’ll clear before-“

“Do what you can.” Steve cut him off. “Romanoff, have a chat with our prisoner, see if you can get him to talk, tell us how we turn this thing off”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” She replied, not a trace of her usual biting sarcasm in her voice. “He’s out cold. Suddenly decided he didn’t fancy being captured after all and got a bit rough on the way up. I had to take him out.”

“Shit.” Katie muttered as Steve let out a long sigh, turning to face her as she stood, thinking something over. It wasn’t a great idea, but was the only chance they really had. So she decided to roll with it.

“Can you help me get the floor boards up?”

“Won’t that disturb the bomb?” He asked, frowning a little.

“Not if you do it here.” she moved about six foot to her left. “I can get underneath, see if I can disable it.”

Steve looked at her, then to Clint before sighing. It didn’t look like they had a choice.

“Alright.”

A minute later, Vibranium shield and steel knives had worked their magic as Katie and Steve had prised a space big enough for Katie to lower herself into, head first, torch in her mouth, phone held in front of her, on her stomach. She crawled over to the bomb and looked at it.

“It’s on a fucking timer too!” she sighed, swallowing as the timer had less than 5 minutes on it.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“Long enough…” she said, deciding not to tell them. She snapped a photo before dropping the torch to the boards beneath her so that it illuminated the dark space in front of her.

“Someone patch me through to Lawson …now.” she spoke

Less than forty seconds later Lawson’s British accent hit her ear.

“Nova.” he said.

“We have a situation.” She spoke calmly, although she was anything but. She didn’t like tight spaces at the best of times and there was a huge spider sitting to her right. And she fucking hated spiders. And she was facing a bomb, now with three minutes left on the clock. Swallowing her fear she sent the photo to Lawson’s computer, her hands shaking “Hawkeye triggered this, can we disarm it?”

A moment’s pause.

“Yeah, we can. I can talk you through this…”

Steve swallowed and looked at Clint, the man seemed surprisingly calm considering, but then he was used to staying still for long periods of time on stakeouts. He gave Steve a slight shrug and the Captain looked back to the hole Katie had shimmied into.

“You’re gonna need a knife or something sharp to cut the wires”

“Got it.” Katie wriggle to free the standard issue Swiss Army Knife which contained every single gadget known to man from her thigh pocket.

“Ok so first thing is first, you’re going to need to lift it out slightly to get to the wires ok. There should be 3…blue, white and red….but this is important Stark so listen.”

“Listening”

“The blue wire has to remain intact and in contact with the sensor under Hawkeye’s foot. So don’t cut it or pull it ok?”

“Don’t pull or cut blue, right.”

“You need to gently lift it out towards you, watching that blue wire, and turn it to the side so you can see the red and white wires…”

Taking a deep breath, with trembling hands she gently reached out and slowly, carefully turned the bomb to the side, letting out a small squeak of fear as the huge black spider moved closer.

“You okay?” Steve asked, hearing her noise.

“There’s a spider in here the size of a fucking Chihuahua.” Her voice was a slightly higher pitch than normal. Steve sighed, any other time her fear of spiders would amuse him. Not now.

“It’s gonna be more scared of you than you are of it.” He tried to placate her, but as he spoke he knew that was utter bullshit.

“ Lawson…I’ve got it…what now?”

“Cut the white wire first and then the red.”

Katie took a deep breath, her hands really where shaking now, and she took a deep breath trying to focus, ignoring the timer which was now counting down from one minute thirty. She reached out with her left to hold the white still and her right clutched the knife as she went to work. The wire was tough but in 3 cuts it was severed. She moved to do the same to the red, but on the third cut the knife slipped and slashed into the palm of her left.

She let out a yell of pain. “Shit”

“Katie?” Steve dropped to his knees, trying to see into the space but all he could see was her back.

“My hand slipped, I’m okay.” She assured him. Taking another breath she took another three slashes at the wire and eventually it gave. The light on the bomb went out and the timer stopped on twenty-five seconds.

“Boom.” She exhaled, her head dropping in relief, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Nice work Nova.” Lawson let out a breath.

Katie swallowed, “Thanks Lawson…errr boys, a little help?”

Steve moved first as she shuffled backwards and managed to get one strong arm round her waist and gently she folded herself up so that he could lift her out.

“You alright?” He asked and she nodded, breathing heavily, but he could see from the tears in her eyes she wasn’t. Before he could say anything, Clint had pulled her into a hug as Steve instructed the team to move in for extraction of the weapons.

“Thanks Nova.” Clint said as she stepped back.

Steve gently moved towards her and turned her to face him, “It’s okay, Doll, you did it.”

“Guess I did.” Katie’s breathing was still deep as the magnitude of what just happened overwhelmed her. She began to shake and Steve simply wrapped her in his large arms and she pressed her face into his Kevlar clad chest and he rest his chin on her head, looking at Clint who gave him a little jerk of the head, before he wandered out into the corridor to find the team.

Steve pulled back and gently took her hand, looking at the place her knife had gashed through the leather on her palm gloves. It looked fairly superficial, the leather having protected her in the main “That doesn’t look too deep but we’ll get the medic to look at it.”

Katie couldn’t feel it. She was numb, numb from how close that bomb had been from going up.

“Seconds…” she said, swallowing “Seconds, that’s it, we were seconds away from going up.”

“Hey…” Steve moved back slightly so he could look at his girl. “That doesn’t matter now, you stopped it. Everyone’s okay.”

The blood was pounding in her ears as she looked up at his helmet clad face, his eyes warm as they locked onto hers. She was starting to lose it, and if she didn’t find a way to ground herself she knew she was going to break down into sobs, and she didn’t want that. Not on a mission. Steve watched as she reached up to undo the clasp at the side of his chin strap and before he could say anything, although he really didn’t have anything to say, she’d pulled his helmet off. She looked at him, hair tousled, bottom half of his face slightly grubby compared to the top.

“Baby,” he said quietly but his words died as she ran her non-injured hand up the side of his jaw and then leaned up, catching his lips, hand on the back of his neck. Steve was surprised, but didn’t push her away, he never could. His arms instinctively pulled her closer as he kissed her back, everything else zoning out, until they heard footsteps and a voice which was slightly amused.

“Ok, nothing to see here.” Clint spoke. Steve instantly pulled back and looked over Katie’s head at the assembled team of STRIKE agents, Rumlow, Rollins, Evans and Nat stood at the front. Rumlow’s face was a picture and Steve, despite the fact he was kind of embarrassed about being caught snogging his girl in the middle of a mission, felt a smug sense of satisfaction.

My girl, asshole.

“Told you Rumlow.” Rollins was next to speak as Katie closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into Steve’s chest, the moment of adrenaline fuelled passion ebbed away and was replaced by a sudden worry of her effectively outing them without asking him first.

“Fuck me sideways.” Rumlow muttered “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Rumlow, you’re an idiot.” Lawson’s voice hit their ears “I aint even there and even I could see that a mile off. Mate, Fury only has one eye and I bet he could see it all the way from DC.”

Steve let out an exasperated sigh, but his arms didn’t let go of his precious charge as he issued an instruction. “Alright, wrap it up. Let’s get those weapons and move it out.”

His grip on Katie released as the team bustled into the room and he stopped to pick up both their helmets, handing Katie hers.

“I’m sorry…” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean to do that, I didn’t know they’d see.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He spoke gently, brushing her face with his gloved palm

“You’re not mad?”

“No.” He shook his head as she took her helmet off him with an air of surprise. “I mean they had to find out eventually, right. Maybe it isn’t exactly how I would have chosen to do it but…”

Katie snorted “Better or worse than being caught in the kitchen?”

He gave a small laugh “Undecided. Come on, let’s help them pack up those weapons and we can go home.”

******

The two of them were careful to keep a distance for the rest of the mission and trip home, a professional front was imperative to Steve and Katie was also keen to keep it that way too. She didn’t want anyone saying that either of them were impartial or unable to keep themselves objective. That said, on the flight home they took the inevitable teasing that naturally was always going to come their way when the team found out that its Captain and Sniper were together on the chin. It was all well natured though, and there were no smutty remarks beyond Evans asking Katie if she’d had her bed reinforced now she was sharing it with a super-soldier. In response, she hit him square in the face with a well-aimed granola bar, as Steve flushed at the back of the jet when he overheard. The Captain’s sharp eyes, however, clocked that one person who wasn’t joining in the joking and teasing was Rumlow. He looked like he’d been slapped in the face, and all Steve could do was hope he wasn’t going to be a complete prick going forward.

At the debrief Fury was pleased they had gotten a result and surprised the entire team by handing Steve a wad of notes and instructing them to go celebrate a job well done, but the wink he gave the Captain as he left the room before looking at Katie in that way he did, with a smirk on his face left them both in no uncertainty that he knew what had gone down.

The team hit their favoured bar, Loris. Katie and Steve sat together, Steve casually resting his arm round the back of the bench they sat on, as the drinks flowed, food arrived and Clint and Rumlow organised a pool tournament. Pool was one thing, along with art, that Steve had been pretty good at before he got the serum so after a bit of coaxing he joined in, eventually winning after thrashing Lawson in the final. Declining the money, he told Clint to use it to get the team another round of drinks, but they were drinks he had no intention of partaking in. He wanted to take his girl home because he could tell she was still a little shaken from the day’s events.

He wasn’t wrong. Whilst she had sat and eaten and drinking, she wasn’t really listening. The sight of that bomb timer in front of her eyes, and that fucking spider… she gave an involuntary shudder and looked up to see the tournament was now over and Steve was making his way to the table she was sat at, Natasha nodding to him as she headed to the bar.

He dropped onto the seat next to her, leaned forward and whispered “Wanna get out of here?”

She looked around, glancing over at the bar where Rumlow and Rollins were chatting up a group of girls. Clint and Natasha were sat a few seats down, in discussion with Lawson about something whilst Evans was leaning on the bar talking to a few of the other STRIKE team. She nodded. Steve stood up, took her hand and pulled her off the bench, the pair of them making their exit quickly and quietly, jumping into a perfectly timed free cab.

They sat in silence, his thumb skating over the back of her knuckles on the short ride home, his hand releasing hers only when he had to pay the driver. He caught up with her inside the lobby, just as the elevator door was opening and he stepped in behind her, her breath catching as he dropped his head, nose nuzzling into the side of her neck below her ear before he placed a single, soft kiss on her neck. Her arousal was obvious as she bit her bottom lip and let her eyes fall closed as his lips grazed her neck a bit higher. Then higher still until they placed a chaste kiss on her jawline, and that was all she could take.

She turned round, eyes dark with lust and lips met his gently at first before the kiss grew more urgent and she brought her hands up to his face, sliding them back to tangle her fingers into his hair. The way she did that set every one of his nerves on edge and he found himself pressing closer and moved quickly so that he had her pinned against the metal wall of the elevator. His left hand gripped her hip tight, his right winding its way into her hair giving a gentle tug as he pressed his lips against hers, causing the kiss to deepen, a small whimper escaping her mouth. The doors opened to the elevator, and the two of them stumbled out, lips locked, her hands clawing at his hair still, the pair groaning as they went.

His lips started to stray, kissing the corners of her mouth, dipping down to her jaw and neck but she always pulled his face back to hers, kissing him encouragingly, and he knew there and then that there was only one way this was going to end. Which right now was absolutely fine with him, but he needed to know it was with her too. He pulled away and looked down at her, his eyes bouncing between hers.

“You sure?” He whispered, wetting his lips slightly.

“Stevie…” she replied, her voice barely audible over her deep breathing. “Shut up and take me to bed.”

And he knew then he was a goner.

He surged forward again, spinning them both round, pinning her to the panel in the wall which hid the closed elevator doors with his body. His mouth trailed down to her neck, softly kissing, drawing a sigh from her at the sensation as he continued to skate his mouth gently across her collarbone which was exposed on one side due to the slouching top she was wearing. His hands reached down to her thighs and he effortlessly hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, nuzzling into his neck before kissing across his jawline and his cheek as he carried her across the apartment and up the stairs. He was aware vaguely of two small thuds as she shucked off her boots as they went, before he reached the bedroom his lips back on hers, urgently kissing her as he carried her inside, kicking the door shut before he crossed the room and gently fell forwards, depositing them both onto the bed.

His lips claimed hers again, a moan of his own escaping into her mouth and his hands strayed to the bottom of her top. She nodded eagerly, hands going to run through his hair, before she shifted and held her arms up so that he could pull the top over her head. He tossed it to the floor as she reached for his before he pulled back, allowing her to slide it up and over his head, both of them smiling into the kiss as he settled back down on top of her, his hand running up the side of her torso.

She pulled away from him this time and he watched as her eyes followed her hands downwards before she looked back up at him as her fingers gently grazed his stomach, lingering there before moving down to his jeans. He bucked at the touch as she slowly undid his belt, taking her time as she locked her eyes onto his again, lust had turned into softness as she looked at him. He stared right back at her, her eyes reminding him of emeralds, deep green, speckled with dots of brown, the slight ring of amber surrounding her pupil reminded him of the sun. Telling him of the power she exuded over him and the warmth she brought to his life.

He was aware that his breathing had quickened and he let out a low growl before he kissed her, harder and his hands moved down to her jeans, deftly undoing the button at the front. He moved, pulling them down in one go over her legs before he stood slightly, ridding himself of his, the sensation of finally being free was a God send. Katie sat up, eyes trained on him and he swallowed thickly as she undid her bra. He took a second to take her in, he loved her tits, he’d always had a thing for a good “rack” as Bucky put it, and she was a sight to behold. All soft pink curves and rose bud nipples. He was achingly hard now, and he needed to do something about it. In a flash he was on her again, mouth hungrily covered hers as his hands trailed up her legs, to her hips, up the side of her body and then onto her breasts teasing gently. She groaned, rolling her head back on the pillow at the sensation, her hips bucking upwards.

“Fuck.” He seethed out at the feeling of her grinding up against his rock hard crotch, and he nuzzled at her neck with his nose again. She dragged her fingers up his spine as he buried his face in the side of her neck working at the pulse spot beneath her ear, the little noises of pleasure she was making were music in his ear. Her hips moved again and he decided to help her out, his hand moving down and dropping below the waistband of her panties making her gasp as his fingers worked her. She was warm, wet, and he loved the fact he had this effect on her.

Her hips began to move in time with his motions, groans falling from her lips at the sensations lancing through her body as he nipped slightly at her neck and then moved his mouth to her chest, taking her right nipple in. Her groans were growing louder now and Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to be in her, surrounded by her, feel her. His hands both shot to the side of her panties, completely forgetting his strength and he heard them tear. He dropped his forehead onto her sternum, letting out a groan at his stupidity before he heard a laugh, his head shooting up in surprise at the fact she found it funny.

“I’m sorry…” he blurted out as she continued to giggle.

“You literally just ripped my pants off”

“Guess I forgot my own strength.” he offered as explanation, looking at her, an apologetic look on his face.

“You know they were Victoria Secrets?” She quipped, looking at him. Steve had no idea what that meant, but he assumed it was some kind of expensive lingerie shop. A sudden joke popped into his head and before he could stop himself he shot it out.

“Sucks to be Victoria then.” and this made her laugh even more.

Eventually their laughter died down, and they shared another quick glance, and then her lips were back on his, still smiling as she flipped the waistband of his boxers down, and he shimmied out of them, before settling into the space in between her hips. She moved underneath him, telling him exactly what she wanted and he was so ready to oblige. He kissed her hard, his right hand tangling into her left as she reached down with her right, grasping him in her hand causing him to hiss slightly. She guided him to where she wanted him and he gently pushed into her. The feeling caused both of them to gasp and groan, Katie leaning back against the pillows as he stretched her, his girth and length filling her completely.

“God,” Steve breathed, temporarily paralysed by the way her tightness gripped him. His arms shook and he dropped down to his elbows, the hand around hers tightening as his entire body felt coiled tight like snake ready to strike.

The stillness gave Katie time to adjust to his size, but one she had she was aching for him to move, needing to feel him. She whimpered a little, her fingers digging into his lower back urging him on. “Stevie, please?”

He started moving his hips, slowly at first, building up speed as he gained more confidence, their hips rubbing together with every thrust. With every rock into her, moans of delight and pure pleasure filled his ear as his head rest in the crook of her neck, every inch of their bodies pressed as close as they could get. When she groaned his name, Stevie, the pet name that sounded so much sweeter coming from her, it was like a hot wire to his groin and he felt the tell-tale heat striking across his lower stomach he groaned again, wanting to hold out longer, wanting to get her there first. He brought his lips back to hers plunging his tongue into her mouth and she dug the tips of her nails into his back and he was completely overwhelmed by her. Not the sex, but her.

“Katie, I’m not sure how long I’m gonna…” He began to try and explain but then groaned again as she pushed up against him, his head dropping slightly as he struggled to fight it.

“Let me see you.” she said, nudging his nose with hers, her voice ragged. “Wanna see you let go baby…”

At her words he groaned and raised his head to look at her, her eyes soft and shining. He managed a few more shallow thrusts before he lost himself, stiffening and groaning as Katie watched him, his lips slightly parted as he bit his bottom lip, and then the eyes that had been locked on hers fluttered shut before he pitched forward to bury his face into her neck.

She held him running a hand through his hair as a final shudder ran down his body, the waves of pleasure finally began to subside. Her own heart was pounding with affection for her man. She didn’t particularly care that she hadn’t gotten off, nor did she care that it hadn’t lasted very long either, but he had made her feel good. He took his time, had tenderly caressed and loved every part of her, had appreciated her in a way no one else had before.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out before he could stop himself, “You didn’t even – I’m sorry.” He said again still kicking himself.

“Steve, stop. Just enjoy the moment. Please.” She whispered, kissing his temple.

Steve sighed as dropped his head to her chest, still inside her, as she ran her hand through his hair and down his neck. He stayed still for a while before he rolled off her and onto his back, pulling her with him so she could lie her head across his chest.

“It doesn’t matter you know” she spoke again, hand running through the soft smattering of dark blond and light brown hair on his chest “It was perfect because I was with you.”

“I just wish it had lasted longer.” he said, her words like a talisman in his chest as he cradled her close.

“It didn’t need to.” she looked up at him and felt her cheeks burning. She wanted to explain to him, exactly how she felt, but wasn’t sure she could find the words. She dropped her gaze from his face and he gently reached out with his spare hand.

“What is it?” HHhe asked, gently reaching out to tilt her face up to look at him.

“Just…no one’s ever made me feel like that, like this before” she said gently, her eyes shining. “You were so soft and gentle and…well I don’t think I’ve ever felt so wanted…” she trailed off, shrugging.

The band tightened across his chest slightly, how could anyone not want her? Gently he dropped a kiss to her lips.

“I like being your first.” he said, and she smiled.

They lay still for a while, his fingers gently combing through her soft hair before an idea suddenly hit him and it made him swallow nervously.

“We err…we didn’t… you know, use any…protection?” he said, stilling and Katie turned her head up to look at him.

“I got that covered, don’t worry…”

“How?” he frowned, confusion filling his features.

“Stuff has moved on since the 40s Steve.” she said, simply.

Her head returned to its spot on his chest and she gave a soft yawn. He dropped a kiss to her head and closed his eyes, pulling her closer, relishing the feel of her skin against his as their legs tangled together, the pair of them satiated and completely at peace

****

He was aware of her moving. He had his face pressed into the back of her hair, breathing in her gorgeous smell, revelling in her warmth and softness as her bare back was pressed to his chest, his arm wrapping around her, laying just under her breasts. It was all he could do not to moan as she untangled herself and he cracked an eye open, watching her bare ass and back as she made her way into the en-suite. Smiling softly through his tiredness he rolled onto his back, one hand straying to his hair as he lay still. Eventually he heard her make her way back into the room and felt the bed dip again. He could feel her eyes on him, simply watching. And it was all he could do to keep the smirk off his face.

“You get a good look?” he mumbled, shifting slightly, voice thick from sleep, eyes still closed.

“Sorry…” she said softly and he felt her finger gently tracing his jaw. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Well he was awake now, her touch igniting that desire once more. He shifted onto his side and cracked one eye open, taking in her appearance. Her long hair was cascading in slightly tangled waves round her face, and she looked absolutely stunning.

“I can think of worse things to wake up to.” he said honestly before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She responded willingly, his hand dropping to her hip before moving to her back and pulling her closer to him, the other arm snaking under her neck and angling her head to deepen the kiss. He rolled her over onto her back, one leg positioning itself between hers and he dropped his lips to her neck, nipping at that magical spot again. She let out a soft moan before she sat up slightly, pushing on his shoulders. It was just a hard enough shove to make him understand she wanted him lay on his back, and he was more than happy to let her take control this time. As she straddled him his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her face down to kiss him and as he did so she reached down between them, taking him in her hand and stroking him into full hardness which didn’t take much. He groaned but didn’t release her mouth as she adjusted position to take him in.

Slowly she slid down onto him, groaning into the kiss as she stayed pressed against him, and she began to work herself on top of him. She was quick to find a rhythm and her mouth fell open against his lips and she let out a shaky moan before sitting up fully.

This was another first for him and the sight of her on top, illuminated by the early morning sun sneaking in through her curtains was divine. He wanted to touch her, so he did, bringing her hands up to run them up her sides until his hands cupped her breasts, thumbs running over her nipples as she let out another moan. As she picked up the pace his hands went to her hips, pulling her down onto him harder, thrusting upwards to meet her for every move she made. She continued to move, quickening, her eyes never leaving his.

“Steve…”she groaned, as he tilted his hips up harder and he let out a groan himself, increasingly determined to get her there this time. As he felt himself beginning to tip over the edge, his hand moved from her hip to stroke at that spot between her legs and that did it. He felt her tense up and tighten around him, crying out loudly and unbridled as she shook. The sight of her coming undone on top of him, her cheeks flushed, lips pink, mouth open in a now silent scream, was simply incredible and quite possibly the single most exquisite thing he had ever seen. All of that, coupled with the force of her heat tightening even more made him lose himself again.

“Fuck, Doll…” the curse fell from his lips as he thrust upwards, before he spilled himself inside her again, the wave of pleasure deeper than anything he’d felt before. Katie collapsed forward onto his chest, her tremors subsided, both of them panting. He held her close, his fingers running up and down her spine as she let out a soft “hum” of contentment and he sat up, wanting to see her face to face. Still cradling her close he pushed the hair that had fallen over her face back behind her ears and she reached up, running her hands through his, causing him to close his eyes at the sensation of her nails on his scalp.

When he opened them again and looked at her something flashed in her eyes as the slight gleam of light through the curtains caught her face. She was looking at him, features soft, almost as if she was seeing him for the first time. His breath quickened slightly and he knew then that he was head over heels in love with her. No one had come close to ever making him feel like this and as he gazed at her, seeing the adoration in her eyes, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Katie,” he said quietly, almost nervously, as he pulled her closer, his nose rubbing up against hers, “I love you.”

She didn’t hesitate to reply, she didn’t need to. If she was honest she’d loved him now way before they’d even started any of this. So without missing a single beat, she spoke in return as their noses continued their lazy dance, the words coming easily.

“I love you too, Stevie.”

Her reply lit a fire in his chest and he kissed her softly, grinning like a total idiot as she was smiling too, the kisses growing softer and shorter until she pulled away completely, her hand on his cheek, her eyelids heavy. He glanced at the clock, it was little past 6 and they could sleep in today. He had no desire to run, no desire to leave at all, so he set them both and slid a hand under her neck and pulled her to him, chest pressing into her back. He swept her hair to one side and placed a soft kiss on the back of her neck before he pulled the covers back up over them and closed his eyes.

Right there Steve would have challenged any man on the planet to prove they were happier than him.

**** O/S Phobias

Chapter 8

**Original Posting**

[halpertstuna]

must have been the wind - jj maybank

A/N: this imagine is inspired by the song “must have been the wind” by alec benjamin. i wrote this imagine listening to the slowed version of the song. i highly recommend you listen to it whilst/before/after reading this(:

pairing: jj x reader

word count: 2,874

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, some angst, some fluff, ya know, all that jazz. and probably typos (this isn’t really edited, pls forgive me)

-> masterlist <-

(gif credit: @jjbanks )

It was 1:28AM, you gazed out the window of the moving car, your elbow was placed on the door panel whilst your head rested in the palm of your hand, the dark navy blue moonlit water in the ocean outside was being reflected in your eyes.

You were currently sat in the backseat of a white Honda lost in your thoughts. Your dad got transferred to North Carolina due to him getting a promotion at work, which was a big deal, especially since your mum wasn’t working and so he jumped on the opportunity right away, moving the two of you with him.

Obviously you were happy for him, but you were also kind of glum since it meant packing up your entire life back in Miami and leaving all of your friends behind with everything else that was familiar, warm and felt like home.

You were being pulled out of your thoughts by the car coming to a stop.

You exited the car taking your bag and suitcase with you to the front porch, then retuned to help your exhausted parents with theirs, once you acknowledged they were struggling to keep their eyes open.

The movers were supposed to come in the morning at about 8AM to unload the rest of your belongings.

You had entered the house and your dad lead you to your room, your mum following not far behind, not wanting to be alone in the foreign, empty house.

You set your bags down next to the bedroom door and kissed both your parents goodnight. They went to their room shortly after and fell into a deep asleep right away.

You changed into pyjamas and laid down in bed staring at the ceiling, you were tired but you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep.

After about an hour of just gazing at the fan spinning above your head, your eyes started to flutter shut, and just as you were about to drift off to sleep the sound of glass shattering startled you, making your heart race as the sound echoed through your ears.

You jumped out of bed and ran to your parents room worried, only to find out they were fast asleep.

Where did the sound come from then? And how come your parents didn’t hear anything? Is the tiredness starting to affect your hearing? Did you just imagine it?

You walked back to your room confused and curious as to where the sound came from.

you laid back in bed and quickly fell asleep assuming what you heard was caused by your sleep deprived state, your ears playing tricks on you.

You managed to fall asleep pretty quickly but you were pulled out of your dreams by the sound of two male voices, screaming at the top of their lungs, shooting at each other vitriolic comments.

Now you were sure, you weren’t just imagining it earlier.

You walked towards your bedroom window, peeking out in hopes of seeing something, anything that could give you a clue to whatever the hell is going on at almost four in the morning.

After about five minutes of hearing despicable words roll off someone’s tongue, muffled by the walls yet clear as day the second you let them sink in, you decided to go back to sleep since it’s really not your place, and just as you were about to walk back to your bed, you noticed a tall figure exit the house in a hurry while someone from behind it kept roaring in a resentful tone vile words.

You quickly turned your attention back to the view your window had to offer, watching as what looked like a teenage boy, put a helmet on his disheveled hair, get on a bike and ride off.

And with that, the noise stopped.

You were stood by your window as the quiet night swallowed you whole, the only sound audible now was your breathing.

You laid back in your bed taking in what you had just witnessed.

Who was that boy? Who was the mysterious, scary voice behind the door? why was he yelling such dreadful things at him? And what more was he capable of?

The questions were endless, they haunted your thoughts, knowing you had to find out what was going on, if that boy was okay.

You dozed off not long after, given the fact that you were after a flight and it was really late.

The next morning you were woken up by the rays of sunlight breaking through the glass of your window, resting on your closed eyelids. The realisation that you forgot to shut the curtains last night before you went to bed suddenly hitting you.

It was almost eight. You let out a loud groan and flipped so you were facing the wall, desperate for more sleep.

You barely had time to even try before your mum knocked on your door, your eyes fluttered open, she smiled at you greeting you good morning.

You let out a sigh and sat up, mumbling under your breath “it could be better”.

You got up and brushed your teeth, then went back to your room to get changed. You wore blue jean shorts, a black oversized band tee and white slip-on vans.

you entered the kitchen and noticed your dad making coffee, he handed you a mug filled with the warm liquid, you quickly drank it and set the mug down in the sink, realising he had started unpacking the “fragile - kitchen” box, meaning the mover’s loading truck was already outside.

You got out of the hous and your dad followed, your mum was already helping with the boxes and the two of you joined her and the movers helping them unload the truck.

It was almost nine and you were down to your last boxes, when you heard what sounded like the engine of a motorcycle.

Your head shot in the direction of the house next to yours as you noticed the same bike from yesterday come to a stop at the front porch, a blonde mop of hair was the first thing you noticed once the boy took off the helmet he had on, running his fingers through his hair.

He started making his way into the house, not giving you a single look.

When you finished unloading and unpacking your parents asked you to take out the trash.

You held two big, black garbage bags in your petite hands and started making your way to the bin.

You threw the content in, and just as you turned around the boy exited his house.

The two of you made eye contact and you offered him a kind smile which he mirrored without hesitation.

You started walking towards your house but stopped in your tracks at the memories of last night.

He was sat on his doorstep, a juul in his hand, as he hit it repeatedly.

You started walking towards him.

“Hey” he greeted sending you a smirk.

“Hi” you replied grinning.

As you got closer to him, you were met with the prettiest pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen.

“I’m JJ” he introduced himself taking another hit

“I’m Y/N, I’m new here” you stated suddenly shy under his gaze, taking in how attractive he is from up close.

“Yeah, i kinda figured, I saw the truck here earlier, plus I’ve never seen you around before” he affirmed

You nodded, a comfortable silence fell upon you two.

You were looking him up and down, he was wearing a grey tank top that revived his biceps and kaki shorts with a pair of black boots.

You then looked at the juul he was holding and noticed his knuckles looked slightly bruised, painted in this violet colour. You studied his features slowly before breaking the silence.

“Hey, um I actually wanted to ask you a question” He looked up at you signalling you to continue. “Last night, when I was trying to sleep, I heard glass shattering and other noises, d- did you hear anything?” He averted his gaze from you to the dock in front of him shaking his head no.

You knew he was lying. But you didn’t push him any further, knowing that if he wanted to talk about it he would.

You quickly changed the subject which he was highly grateful for.

The two of you sat there talking for a few hours, you told him about your life back home and he told you about the pogues, the two of you found out you actually have a lot in common, you share the same love for the ocean and surfing, you both would do anything for your loved ones and you both want to travel the world and explore it.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been sat with JJ, talking, until the two of you noticed the sun starting to set in the horizon, painting the sky in the most beautiful shades of yellowish-red slowly followed by shades of violet and blue.

You darted your gaze over to JJ, only to discover his was already on you. You smiled up at him, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, you whispered a “hi” to which he chuckled and shook his head, smiling at how cute he found your softness.

And for the first time since you moved, you felt welcome. And even though it started getting chilly, you felt warm inside, thanks to the humorous boy beside you.

You could hear your name being called from inside the house, telling you dinner’s ready.

You bid your goodbyes and walked back to your house.

You ate dinner with your family then went to bed, this time falling asleep easily since you were exhausted from that day.

At about two in the morning, you had to pee, so you walked to the bathroom half asleep but were quickly snapped back to reality when you heard “I’ll fucking kill you!” bawled with rage.

Your eyes were shot open at the sound of that and you started freaking out a bit. You were really worried but you didn’t want to stick your nose where it didn’t belong, so you decided to let it go.

When you laid back in bed you heard someone ignite a motorcycle and take off, you assumed it was JJ, and again, with that, just like the night before, the noise stopped.

The next day you didn’t see him. You were worried something might have happened but you reassured yourself, assuming he was probably with the pogues. That day was dedicated to helping your parents unpack furniture, cutlery etc.

You went to sleep pretty early given you were in desperate need of it.

You were abruptly woken up by the sound of loud thuds and the words “worthless piece of shit” ringing in your ears as they were being yelled at someone.

You quickly got up and looked out your window, you were concerned about JJ’s well being, assuming he got back home while you were sleeping.

This time you just couldn’t shake the feeling something’s seriously wrong, with that you slipped on your shoes and quickly ran to his house in a panic.

You knocked on the door firmly.

Once it was swung open and you were met with the same pair of blue eyes you saw yesterday, but this time with a bruise under one and a cut under the other.

His eyes softened at the sight of your worried state and you drank him in, searching his face for more bruises.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked now angry “what’s all that noise?!”

JJ looked at you then down at his feet and said “I wish I could tell you but I didn’t hear anything” you were taken aback by his words.

You knew he was playing dumb, and usually you won’t want to intrude but you were far too worried about him.

“Are you serious?” You asked him with wide eyes. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. It must’ve been the wind.” you were dumbfounded by his statement, speechless.

“Thanks for caring, but I have to go back inside, good night.” Your eyes swam with concern as he closed the door. You walked back to your house not wanting to pressure him any further into talking about it since he looked like he was on the verge of breaking.

The next day you went to the beach with your surfboard. You ran into the water, eager to catch some waves when you were met with none other than the “surfing legend” himself, as he liked to say, JJ Maybank.

He was on his surfboard riding a wave as you watched in awe.

Once he saw you he started paddling on his board in your direction.

“Well hello there, how are you enjoying the waters of the Outer Banks so far?” he greeted authoritatively and you giggled at that. “I actually just got here, didn’t really get the chance to ride any waves. But I can’t say the same about you. You’re really good” you commented and a grin spread across his face. “Thanks” he replied.

He sat straddling his surfboard and as he got closer you noticed a giant bruise on his stomach, you gasped at the sight, he didn’t understand at first, then followed your gaze. “What happened?” You asked faintly, reaching out and tenderly tracing the bruise with your fingertips. “It’s nothing,” he scoffed “you should see the other guy” he chuckled awkwardly, but you weren’t buying it.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it,” you started “but just know my door is always open, you can come whenever you’d like for as long as you desire if you ever need a friend” he shot you a watery smile at that invitation and a comforting silence fell upon the two of you.

You broke it by saying “I bet I can catch that wave before you Maybank!” Then started steering away towards the giant wave that was heading your way, “Oh! Bring it on Y/L/N!” He retorted following not far behind.

That day was fun for the both of you, sun, surf and no worries.

When you got home you took a shower and put on a pair of grey sweatpants and a white oversized shirt.

It was getting late and you were beat from surfing and being in the sun all day, you had no trouble drowsing off.

You were sound asleep until you were alarmed by the sound of knocking on your window. You shifted the blanket off your body and got up, your warm feet made contact with the cold wooden floor, waking you up a bit as you approached your window.

You rubbed your eyes trying to make out the face of the blurry figure on the other side of the glass. You quickly picked up that it was JJ and opened the window, letting him climb in.

He didn’t need to say anything, knowing you already knew why he was there. You turned on the the table lamp, then noticed he had a busted lip, and a fresh cut on his cheek.

You were quick to wrap him in your embrace, hugging him dangerously close. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and started crying, tears slid down his cheeks, making the collar of your shirt wet and see through, but you didn’t care. He buried his face in your chest and you held him as tight as possible until he managed to steady his breathing.

You held his hand and intertwined your fingers, leading him to the bathroom without a single word being passed between the two of you. You signaled him to sit in the counter and he obeyed. You started cleaning up his bruises and cuts, bandaging what you could.

After you finished you told him to go back to your room. You went to the kitchen and quickly returned, plopping down on the bed beside him, handing him ice cream, knowing it’s the most comforting thing you could give, other than a hug which followed the deed.

You put on “Iron Man”, trying to lighten the mood with Tony Stark’s humour.

As the credits rolled he opened his mouth “I’m sorry,” he mumbled “for bothering you like this it’s just- I mean- I-“ you cut him off by caressing his cheek with your hand, he leaned into your touch. “It’s okay.” you cooed, a single tear slid down his cheek and you wiped it away with your thumb, smiling weakly at him “We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, and until you are, we can say ‘it must have been the wind’” you quoted what he’d told you the other day, gaining a smile from him, a real smile, eyes full of adoration.

You pulled the blanket on the two of you up to your chin.

You shut off the light and muttered a “Good night” before drifting off.

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a bit longer than he should’ve.

He murmured a good night before falling asleep as well beside you.

[harrysweasleys]

The Name of the Game

Request: Would you do a George Weasley imagine where at a party he gets jealous when his crush who’s Golden Trio’s Slytherin friend has to kiss Draco Malfoy during a game of spin the bottle but it turns into anger when he finds out that Draco charmed the game to get her, even though the reader can’t stand Draco?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i had a lot of fun writing this! requests are open and gif isn’t mine! x

-

George Weasley was a lot of things. He was confident, he was brave, he was bold, he was a troublemaker, and he was smitten.

When George first saw you, donned in your usual emerald Slytherin gown, he noticed how your H/C hair fell in lose strands around your face, how the shimmer in your eye as you giggled with your friend seemed to draw him in, and how your dazzling smile took his breath away.

But, naturally, due to his pride and the fact that you were indeed a Slytherin, he forced himself to completely push you out of his mind. It was hard, you did end up having a few classes together — which made George wonder how he’d never noticed you before.

And so he tried to ignore how you looked in the light of the setting sun in the Great Hall during dinner, or how pleased you looked when receiving your grades in different classes, or how you hid your laughter behind your hand when George and his twin pulled off another successful prank that no doubt also ended with a pissed off Filch.

But all that ignoring became quite difficult when you became friends with Harry and Hermione, eventually ending with you befriending Ron as well. You’d hang out with them in the library, come to talk to them at their table in the Great Hall, and you even cheered on Gryffindor when they were playing Quidditch — when Slytherin wasn’t their rival, of course.

“She’s different from other Slytherins,” Hermione defended you when fellow Gryffindors would talk about how befriending a Slytherin was a betrayal of house pride.

So, all in all, George found it hard to keep you off his mind. Not that he minded, really. He found you the prettiest person he’d ever seen. But at the same time, he had never actually spoken a single word to you. Fred had absolutely adored teasing him about it, but all in all, George was determined to make himself known to you.

So, one day, as you were standing over Hermione at lunch time in the Great Hall, the two of you deep in conversation about the Arithmancy assignment you had been given, Fred whacked George over the shoulder with a smirk.

“Oi, it’s your secret girlfriend,” Fred nodded his head in your direction, causing George to roll his eyes and smack his twin right back.

“Shut your face, you git,” he spat back, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks as the two made their way over to the empty seats between Ron and Ginny.

As George took his seat, he looked up at you and flashed you a kind smile, which you retaliated. His heart lept and he had to look down at his breakfast plate to keep himself from grinning at you like a fool.

“Mornin’ Y/N!” Fred grinned at you, elbowing his brother harshly in the ribs.

“Oh — hi,” you smiled back shyly, “Good morning, I mean.”

Fred squinted his eyes at George, who was glaring at him to the point where he could feel his eyes burning into his own. But, George remained silent, picking at the breakfast sausage that was on his plate with a sulky expression.

“Y/L/N, fraternizing with the enemy again?” you jumped back at the sound of Malfoy’s voice, and George took immediate notice of how tense your body became. Clearly some Slytherins weren’t fond of Malfoy either.

“Just because they’re your enemies, doesn’t make them mine, Malfoy,” you replied cooly, crossing your arms and turning to face him with your nose held high, “If you had no other intention than to come here and tell me off, I would much rather you save your voice.”

George’s eyebrows shot up as he watched you stand up to Malfoy, who they had all tried their absolute best to avoid in all their years of schooling.

Malfoy didn’t respond, but he shot a glare at Harry and Ron before stalking off to the Slytherin table.

“Anyways,” you returned to your conversation with a softer voice, “I’ll see you later in class.”

Hermione bid you a good day and returned to her food, before you came rushing back over with a frantic expression, “Oh — almost forget, we’re hosting a party in the Slytherin common room tonight. One of my fellow Slytherins, Blaise Zabini, he’s just been arranged a marriage so we’re celebrating. He’s pretty happy about it. And I don’t think he has a problem with you all so you’re welcome to come.”

Your eyes flickered to George before looking across to the rest of the gang, hoping they’d accompany you to a party you didn’t feel like going to.

George felt his heart flip. This could be a chance to talk to you. He nudged Fred in the knee, and his twin flashed a wicked grin.

“Course we’ll be there,” Fred smiled at you, “Georgie and I never miss a party.” Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny all agreed to accompany you as well.

You grinned, your eyes twinkling, “Perfect. I’ve heard you two boys know how to liven a party.”

And with a quick wink in the direction of the twins, you walked gracefully back to the table of your house.

“If you don’t chat her up tonight, I’m going to be disappointed, mate,” Fred shook his head, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth as George shot him a look. It was rare he was speechless, but he found himself struggling to find anything to say in the moment, the butterflies fluttering violently in his stomach as he thought of the events that might unfold.

— —

The Slytherin common room was more packed than you had ever seen it. There were people from loads of different houses, each wearing casual clothing and making them all indistinguishable. The fireplace was roaring and the windows were open, letting a fresh breeze roll through to manage the temperature.

As Hermione led the way in, followed closely by Harry and the Weasleys, they were immediately overwhelmed by the sound of music and the heat of so many bodies.

George wore a casual long sleeved shirt with a little logo on the right chest pocket, and what he called ‘his best pants’ — which were really just a pair of old black jeans. As soon as he stepped in the room, he thanked his genetics for making him so tall as he could easily crane his neck around the room in search for your familiar Y/C/H hair.

And he spotted you almost immediately.

“Oh! It’s Luna! She never goes to these things — I’m going to say hi,” Hermione pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared. Ron followed after her, and Fred made his way towards the snack table where he aimed to hide a few Skiving Snackbox treats. George, however, was glaring down the Slytherin boy you were currently speaking to.

He had his hand on the wall near your head, his face way too close to yours for George’s liking. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling stupidly jealous, it’s not like he’s ever even spoken to you.

“Just go, mate,” Fred gave George a shove and sent him tumbling into the crowd, muttering apologies for bumping into a group of Hufflepuffs by the fireplace. He made his way straight towards you, his heart pounding loudly, and stopped as soon as your eyes locked on his.

“Oh — hi, George,” you smiled up at him, turning your attention away from the dark haired Slytherin boy who stalked off now that he has lost your attention, “You came!”

“Of course,” George grinned despite the nervous flutters in his heart, “It’s a lot busier than I expected, to be quite honest.”

You giggled, looking around the room with a curt nod, “It always turns out crazier than expected. Zabini really wanted to go all out, says it’s like his — what do muggles call it — Bachelor party.”

George raised his eyebrows and moved closer to you and out of the way of the crowd so people could walk by without stepping on his feet, “Does he even know half of these people?”

“Doubt it,” you replied, lifting your hand to push your hair out of your face, “And neither does the bride. In fact, she doesn’t even go here. She’s from Paris.”

George nodded, not sure what to say. He didn’t even know Zabini, so the wedding information didn’t mean much to him.

“I noticed Fred spiking the snacks,” you smirked up at George after a moment of silence, “Knew you guys would make this interesting.”

He felt his cheeks turning pink, but brushed it off with a confident grin, “If you knew that, why’d you never invite us before?”

He felt a surge of pride as a blush rose to your cheeks, and you let your hair fall back over your face to hide it, “Can I be honest? You guys are a little intimidating.”

George’s eyes widened, “Are we now?”

He was quite pleased you had paid enough attention to him to even be intimidated. Not that that’s how he wanted you to feel, but it was better than nothing.

“Yes!” you chuckled, swatting at his arm to rid him of his proud smirk, “I never know when you two are lurking about a corner, ready to drench someone or give them a nosebleed nougat.”

“You even know the names,” George’s smirk widened, “Nicely done. But don’t worry, stay on our good side and you won’t have to suffer.”

You laughed, tossing your head back, and George thought it was the prettiest sound in the entire world. He would listen to you laugh all day if given the chance.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“HEY! GAME TIME!” Goyle stood up on a table, waving his hands to get everyone’s attention. George, wanting to hex him for ending his conversation with you, turned to face him with a scowl.

“Oh, boy, this always happens,” you groaned, “They pick some lame teen game to play and someone always ends up either hurt or heart broken,” George nodded at your words, “It’s usually Parkinson. She’s in love with Malfoy, you see.”

“Wait — hold up,” George whispered back to you with a shocked tone in his voice, “There’s a person out there who loves that git?”

You covered your mouth to hide your giggle, “Apparently. Didn’t think it was possible.”

George shook his head, a bewildered expression on his face, and turned back to face Goyle, who had now silenced the room with his cry for attention.

“The man of the hour, Zabini, has chosen spin the bottle!” he announced, a creepy grin on his overly round head. George could feel you sulk from next to him, you head hitting the wall with a disappointed thump.

“Again?” you groaned, “We played this last time.”

Before George could respond, a familiar head of platinum hair pushed through the crowd and appeared in front of you, “Spin the bottle, huh? Always a good game if you want to impress someone.”

George had no idea what Malfoy was trying to get at, but by the look on your face, he had probably tried this before.

“Or a bad one if you want to get away from someone,” you quipped back, squinting your eyes.

George could feel the strange tention between you two, and he had a strong feeling that Malfoy’s likeness towards you was one sided.

“Right — you left last game,” Malfoy nodded his head, “Right after Crabbe spun it and it landed on you.”

George coughed to cover his laugh. He could only imagine how furious Crabbe was to be rejected publicly like that.

“Well, give Crabbe my apologies. I didn’t feel like kissing a slug,” you gave Malfoy a sarcastic smile and grabbed George’s hand, pulling him over to the circle and away from the blond, “Sorry about him. Do you want to join?”

George could help but think about what it would be like if he played and got to kiss you. He had been wanting to make a move for quite some time, and sure, this wasn’t the best way to have a first kiss, but he couldn’t think straight right now. Your hand was intertwined in his and you were looking up at him with such a gentle smile, he couldn’t help but give in.

“Sure.”

So the two of you took your places around the circle, sitting next to each other. Only about twenty people had decided to play, Fred and Ron were seated across George, and Hermione and Harry were watching with judgemental eyes from the other side of the room.

“Zabini, since it’s your party, you go first,” a Slytherin girl spoke up, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger and batting her eyelashes.

Zabini grinned, spinning the bottle quickly. It landed on Alicia Spinnet, a girl on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who shrugged her shoulders and leaned over, meeting Zabini’s lips with her own. Wolf whistles made their way across the group and both of them looked slightly flushed when pulling away.

George could feel how tense you were, and had to admit even he felt slightly out of place himself.

Alicia spun it next, and ended up kissing Theo Nott from Slytherin, who ended up kissing Pansy Parkinson.

Eventually, Zabini spoke up and requested that Malfoy — who he called his best friend ever — got a turn. As he leaned forward to reach the bottle, George tried to ignore the bubbling jealousy as Malfoy shot a wink your way, his eyes lingering on you.

And sure enough, after Malfoy spun the bottle, it landed on you.

George felt his blood boil, and he could see the uncomfortable expression on your face without even looking at you.

“Great,” you muttered, pulling your sleeves down and hiding your hands, a nervous habit George had noticed you do in class.

“You don’t have to kiss him,” he whispered to you, hoping to ease your consious.

“That’s the point of the game, isn’t it?” you asked grimly, leaning forwards to the eager Malfoy. You pressed your lips to his quickly, pulling away before either of you could register the kiss happened. George looked away, his heart skipping beats and his hands becoming clammy.

This was torture.

Malfoy pulled away and sat back down, smirking proudly. While you, on the other hand, were back to hiding behind your hair.

“Your turn to spin, Y/N,” Zabini slurred, “Get it!”

You leaned forwards, spinning the bottle quickly to get it away from you. But, to both you and George’s horror, the bottle landed on Malfoy.

“Little git,” George sneered, hating this game with every ounce of his being.

George turned away as you once more, leaned towards the middle of the circle and quickly put your lips on Malfoy’s before pulling away hastily, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“This is gross,” you mumbled, feeling disgusted with yourself. George’s jaw was clenched as he glared at Malfoy, who was boasting about his two kisses with you.

“Spiiiin, Draco!” Zabini cheered once more. And as Malfoy leaned to spin, George’s eye caught sight of his lips moving.

The bastard is jinxing the bottle.

“Oi, Malfoy,” George caught himself speaking up and gaining the attention of everyone in the room, “You’re jinxing it.”

Malfoy glared at him, eyes dark, “Am not.”

George stood up before he could stop himself, “I saw you.” Your eyes were darting back and forth, wondering how George knew Malfoy had jinxed the bottle.

“Did not,” Malfoy crossed his arms, “Maybe the universe just knows Y/L/N wants me.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed before George could intervene again, “That’s never going to happen. I’ve never wanted you and never will. Now, did you jinx the bottle?”

George was too focused glaring at Malfoy to notice you had been standing up next to him, arms crossed and staring down at the blond.

“Fine — fine,” Malfoy raised his hands in mock surrender, “So what? It’s just a game.”

The entire circle had now gone silent. Your fists were clenched by your sides and your cheeks were tinted red in anger. George had never seen you this angry before, but he didn’t blame you. He was furious as well.

“You — oh, you’re so insufferable!” you shouted, causing a few people sitting near you to jump, George included, “You walk with your head held high thinking everyone wants you, or wants to be like you. You’re — I can’t — just stay away from me.”

George had to admit, you had balls for standing up to Malfoy. With a furious glare, you grabbed George’s hand and stomped out of the circle and out of the entrance to the common room.

He could feel his heart pounding. Whether it was from proximity to you or because of the events that just unfolded, he wasn’t sure, but this was not at all how he invisioned this night going. He thought he’d get the chance to talk to you one on one, maybe even get the courage to ask you out, but his desires now felt selfish as he watched you lean against the wall and slide down, your hands clutched in your hair.

“Sorry you had to see that,” you mumbled softly, looking up at George who had been standing there like a fool.

“No, don’t apologize,” he walked over and sat next to you, bringing his knees to his chest, “That was horrible. I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“He’s always been like that,” you shrugged, “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our dads were friends at Hogwarts. I know, right? Who’d want to be friends with Lucius?”

George found himself chuckling, and with a small jolt of bravery, placed his hand on your knee. Relief spread through his body when you didn’t pull away.

“So my entire childhood revolved around having a close bond with Malfoy. Even though he’s younger than me, and started Hogwarts after me, our parents wanted us to stick together,” you sighed, learning your head against the wall, “It wouldn’t be so bad if he weren’t an obnoxious little brat. But then, in his third year, he started making weird advances and I kept turning him down, I guess to him that was just fuel to the fire.”

“He’s really the opposite of having the whole package, isn’t he?” George smiled, “Well, at least you turned out better. And I’m sorry you have to deal with him so often.”

You smiled up at him and his heart fluttered again, “Thanks, George.”

You sat in silence for a while — although George swore his heartbeat was loud enough to echo through the dark dungeon hallway — but it was comfortable. Nice, even. George’s hand was warm against your knee and you didn’t want him to pull it away.

“Thanks. For sticking up for me, I mean. You didn’t have to. And sorry for dragging you out with me. I just didn’t want to be alone, I guess.”

You met his gaze, and it was like you had never seen him properly before. His freckled cheeks were a tad rosier, and his brown eyes were so warm and welcoming, your heart did a summersault just by looking into them.

“Don’t apologize. I wanted to be with you,” he spoke softly, looking down at you before his eyes widened, “I—I mean, you know, you’re good company.

“Smooth save,” you smirked, noticing for the first time how close his face was to yours. He smelled like cinnamon and... was it chocolate? You weren’t sure. But he smelled good.

George, looking down into your eyes as well, picked up on the faint peachy smell of your perfume and the way your hair framed your face perfectly, capturing your face like a photograph.

In the moment, it felt as if you two were alone in the entire school. No dark, murky hallways, no looming school assignments, no party going on on the other side of the Slytherin common room entrance. Just you two.

“I like you,” George sputtered out, blinking rapidly as if he hadn’t planned on saying it, “I wanted to be cool about it but I kind of failed.” And it was true, he hasn’t planned on saying it. But as he looked down at you, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell, and he knew he’d be hitting himself over the head if he didn’t sieze the chance right now.

You, on the other hand, felt your breath leave your body as tingles made their way up your spin. He liked you. George Weasley liked you. It felt surreal.

You had noticed how cute he was before, even finding him one of the most charming guys in school, but you didn’t think he’d think of you as anything more than ‘Hermione’s Slytherin friend.’

“I thought you were cool,” you giggled, leaning closer to him, “You’re always pretty cool.”

And before any of you said another word, his lips were on yours. He was much gentler than you thought he would be — he always seemed to have such a loud presence. But his lips were soft, moulding against your own as if they were meant to be.

His hand left your knee and found it’s way to the back of your head, pulling you even closer as your lips remained connected.

George was over the moon. He had thought about what it would be like to feel your lips moving against his, to have your hands tangled in his hair, your body pressed against his. But nothing could have prepared him for the actual thing.

His heart was hammering violently against his chest and he swore every inch of his body was on fire, burning. The only thing grounding him to reality was the pinch of your hands in his hair, the soft touch of your lips on his own, and the intoxicating smell of your fruity perfume.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from you to catch his breath, thinking that that was probably the best kiss anyone’s ever had.

“Well,” he breathed out, “this party did end up going better than I though.”

-

[gerbithats]

A long sims 4 rant

Starting this I can already predict it’s gonna be a big one so if you stick with me, thank you and I’ll try and add pictures to make things feel easier 😆

I was thinking about it and I mean really thinking about these community surveys we’ve been getting and how they speak volumes on the way the game is handled but also also how we position ourselves as a community. I noticed alot more game changers are starting to get pretty vocal about their thoughts since the first community survey came out and that’s refreshing to say the least, but it shows a pattern that we all present: give us what is missing no matter how. We want beaches. We want cars. We want more stairs. We want bunkbeds. Etc.

So these things are probably somehow rushed into production to please the community and then, when we finally get it, it’s like we finally realize that what this game truly lacks is gameplay and not more items.

I invite you to come and think about the packs and the stuff we got throughout these 6 years with me.

🏢 Chapter 1: The apartment issue 

Yes we got apartment buildings with city living, but sometimes it doesn’t even feel like it’s a game feature because it’s L I T E R A L L Y related to living in a city, so it’s not a real feature. We have no possible way to play with apartments and condos outside of san myshuno because for the first time ever we can’t build or own apartments. This was such a missed opportunity of giving us new lot treatments like condos and even rentable properties. I mean, just think about how those 2 features could allow so much new gameplay and stories with it (I can literally imagine being a landlord, having to go fix renters stuff in my their places and doing social events as condo meetings).

The neighbors in that type of lot could also help solve somehow what so many people mention as “boring lot gameplay”. Let’s be real. hardly something ever happens with so little npcs and only the walk by sims (You have to literally run after them to make things happen sometimes and it shouldn’t be like that). But if sims were to live in the same condo or building as yours, sharing common living spaces that’s a whole other thing. Which brings me to the fact that even in the city, where apartments exist, there’s no common area other than the halls. Imagine if we could build laundries, rooftops, basements, patios with pools and all that sort of stuff.

That sort of detaling and really getting deep into the pack’s features is even show in elevators: we can’t use them ourselves (for building) and they’re not even animated, your sim is just teleported (even the modded ones have animations and that’s just awkward).

🌊 Chapter 2: Swimming in shallow waters

“We want a beach”, we said. So they gave us a beach, and a beach only. I’ve never seen so many people call a pack “shallow” as I’ve seen it happen to Island Living and tbh I do agree with them ‘cause... there’s really not much to do in this pack. For the first time ever swimming was restricted to this pack which is already a big let down by itself, but then features like deep diving were added for no reason and of course, as a rabbit whole, not actually contributing with much to do. So how could it be better?

My answer is pretty obvious: resorts. It is a livable world, but that don’t mean your sims can’t take a vacation from work and just stay there if that’s the gameplay you want to go with and resorts match perfectly with that, not to mention it would have great integration with packs like spa day. It also means a new lot type and lot system, that wouldn’t be much new if the city living building condos and sublocating them as I mentioned would’ve already been implemented, but now with the feature of renting it yourself too. Resorts could also have their own event schedules, integrated with the seasons calendar: cava parties every wednesday, yoga lessons on thursdays, etc. And the best thing would be: if you own one, you can make your own events and traditions. imagine just how fun that would be. A feature like this would also mean it’s already done for other packs coming later on, maybe a colder destination where you can ski and build iglus or even another cultural based pack like jungle adventure.

Other obvious resolution would be better mermaids. Make it harder to become one, being only able to get the kelp from a mermaid themselves. Make it less anticlimactic, having an animation of them turning before they just walk in water with a tail all of the sudden, maybe just some scales in their legs. Give them more unique features and powers like vampires and spellcasters have, such as easily persuading people (sort of like the mind control feature aliens have) and maybe even a secret lot, like a grotto where all the mermaids are. Give them curses with the points system to go with it, some mermaids are actually sirens amirite

🥶 Chapter 3: Seasons change, gameplay stays the same

Activities truly based on the season that are specific to that moment create urgency and different moments. Something I can think of is integrating a pack we already have: spooky stuff. It does feel lackluster ‘cause it’s missing opportunities, but imagine going trick or treating but actually going, loading different houses and gathering it while a meter like the active jobs one guided you. Forming groups with friends to do it or maybe for tpeing trees and bushes if you’re on the rebel teen side and destroying their porch jack’o lanterns. It could even be randomly generated, like the game would send you to 3 different houses to do it (that would bring lots of replayability value ‘cause you could end up in houses with neighbors that love you and will give you candy no problem, but maybe also neighbors with family feuds that won’t answer their door or make it harder for you to accomplish the event objectives), maybe one of those could even be a abandoned one that’s haunted or something like that.

The implementing of a better wants and fears system is very essential for this pack. Yes your sims get overheated and a popup message tells you they need some water or lighter clothes, but it’d be so good if they’d actually want to go to the beach, swim in the ocean, take a vacation from work and go to a resort. Heatwaves that would make your sim act weird, not strangerville level of weird, but maybe not obeying your commands.

Blizzards so strong that work and school would get canceled and you actually don’t have the option to leave your home lot anymore until it passes would not only add a different element to the gameplay, but also add value to the weather controler machine.

🥺 Final chapter: The general “more stuff to do” and “more things happening” factor

The game offers all these beautiful secret worlds and yet when you finally get to them there’s not much to do other than searching for rocks and frogs and doing some fishing. I miss going to a community lot hidden somewhere and finding an eremite, goddamn bigfoot, some crazy npc or even just an actual community lot with something to do and people doing stuff in it. Unique community lots would also be a way to make towns more lively and captivating like they did so well with realm of magic and the casters alley section of the world. Maybe forgotten hollow has this abandoned haunted house where people claim they’ve seen the grim reaper walking around. Maybe sixam has a alien station where they clone human sims. Maybe sulani has this beautiful sunken ship beach where a club of people that dress up as pirated meet. Maybe Del Sol Valley has a movie theater where you can watch premieres. Maybe Oasis Springs mine hides actual gold that you can collect and get rich outta nowhere. That kind of stuff.

I can’t stress this enough, but NPCs are so important to shake things up. It was so good to have a pack like realm of magic where the we would have to go to the three sages in order to progress. Having unique sims like this or npcs that change the way your story is going like burglars, firefighters, cops, social bunny, bonehilda and even a fortune teller is so important to keep things impredictable and interesting.

Age groups really need more specific restricted gameplay for better feel of progression. Many people say sims 4 is a young adult simulator and well... there’s not much to show that differs from that. Toddlers are as interesting as hamsters, locked in an object waiting for you to feed, clean and give them attention. Teens really should feel more like a transiction period, and the wants and fears system would really help out with that. I miss being able to participate in more elements that would mark a sims life even if they’re cheesy as heck, like having a prom, graduating, having a midlife crises.

In conclusion

First of all: if you got to this point thank you and I’d really wanna know what you think about all of this.

Some people may find even ridiculous for someone to go about a rant this big on a game and to that I have to say I agree lol I can’t help it tho, honestly, the sims has always been the game I’m most passionate about and it helped me express myself and my creativity so much since I was a kid. I really do care about this game and this franchise.

The point I want to make with this is: perhaps we shouldn’t ask for more and more different stuff, but actually put some effort into showing things we already like in the game and how they can be improved to make it more interesting. At the end of the day I still want spiral staircases, ladders, paintable ceiling, werewolves and all that but does it really matter if they get added to the game following the same patterns as the things pointed in here? Also we really are getting to a point where only a few things are missing as far as cas/build/buy go and I believe it’s time for us, as a community, to give gameplay as much importance as all these things we wanted so bad that got implemented. I probaby forgot to say something here and I didn’t even mention the infamous hamster pack, but anyway, I hope the point got across.

I try really hard to believe that the gurus are here for us and that most of all we, as a community, have a very strong voice, all we need to do is make it clearer and stronger about the things we really wish for this game.

[mmvalentine]

Home is Where You Are pt 9 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10

The days went by in a blur, after that. Rhys had spent so long trying to make sure Feyre was alright, but this time, like every time, she astounded him with the strength of her. He thought she'd need time to adjust, thought they'd have to take things slowly. But she didn't. To his utter delight, Feyre promptly moved herself into Rhys' room, and spent every night curled up tight against him. Her underwear spilled out of his drawer, her perfume lingered on his pillows, and she walked around the house half naked in the evenings. He could have died of happiness, except that would mean he'd have to leave Feyre and that was not happening, not ever, not if he had any say in it.

The first weekend was easy, of course. They spent the whole in time bed, ordered take out and took a shower together but then immediately got messy again when they got back to the bedroom. Then Monday had rolled around, and Rhys tried to slip out without waking her so he could get ready for work. But as he sat on the edge of the bed, Feyre rolled over and curled herself around his hips, still half asleep and so fucking adorable that he was rooted to the spot. He kissed her cheekbone right on a bright pink spot, and she caught his lips before he pulled away. And then somehow they were making love and Rhys was fifteen minutes late to work that day.

In the car on the way home that first Monday, Rhys had wondered what it would be like when he got back to the apartment. Whether things would be weird between them, or if she would need some space after their weekend together. In fact he found himself slightly nervous as he unlocked the front door. Then he walked in and Feyre was sitting on the counter top where they had first kissed, completely naked. They didn't make it to the bedroom.

After that it was so, completely easy. Feyre wore a pair of his boxer shorts to bed every night- which meant she got into bed wearing his boxer shorts but never fell asleep in them because her in his underwear was so damn sexy that Rhys had to peel them off her. And he was sure he would never get used to waking up next to her. Once, she had gotten up to make coffee and Rhys slept though it. He woke without her and for a second he was completely convinced that he had dreamed the whole thing and would now be dumped back into reality. Then Feyre had walked in with two mugs of coffee, in his work shirt from the previous day and nothing else, and she had yelped when he pounced on her and almost made her spill. The coffee was cold by the time they got to drinking it.

As time went on, Rhys' world seemed to get both more surreal and also more real and solid to him than it had ever been. He had no idea what he used to do before Feyre lived here. And Feyre- Feyre was magnificent. She started working full time again, her paintings filled the little apartment with a thousand colours, and she never ran out of kisses for him. She was a fucking miracle. Rhys walked in on her singing in the kitchen one day, wrapped his arms around her waist from behind while she was stretching up to put a glass back in the cupboard, and said "I love you," into her neck. Feyre had turned her head to kiss him, simply said "I love you too," and carried on tidying dishes away. Rhys had let her do it for all of thirty seconds before he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to bed, Feyre shrieking laughter the whole way.

Two weeks after that, they drove to Tamlin's house to pick up the rest of Feyre's things. He had wanted to come with her, had wanted to kick Tamlin's teeth in, actually, but Feyre made him wait in the car. She was quiet on the drive over, but with a grim determination set in her jaw. She squeezed his hand, but avoided his tortured eyes before getting out. Rhys sat with his knuckles white on the steering wheel the whole time, straining his ears and yet knowing that even if he heard a struggle Tamlin could hit her faster than he could bust down the door.

But Feyre emerged unscathed, and let Rhys help her load the armful of boxes into the trunk as Tamlin watched, scowling, from the door. Rhys met his eyes only once, and looked at him with every ounce of hate and rage he had. Then did not look at him again, for fear that he really would tear his throat out if he thought for one more second about that piece of shit laying a hand on Feyre.

When they got back to the apartment, Rhys dropped the boxes he was carrying and pulled Feyre into his arms. Just stood like that, for minutes, as if he could find the wounds that Tamlin had inflected inside and out, and just squeeze them back together again. He wondered if he was doing it for Feyre's sake, or his own.

That evening, Rhys cooked dinner while Feyre unpacked. He told her it was her place too, so she could do what she liked with the house, and then made paella. By the time they were sitting down to eat, Feyre looked tired but contented, and Rhys was quietly happy that it now felt more like their shared space rather than his house that she lived in.

"This is so good," Feyre said with her mouth full, and her eyes sliding closed. Rhys loved her like this- when she was enjoying something and got lost in it.

"Thanks," he said. "Are you sure you don't want help unpacking? I'll wash up and then give you a hand." Feyre shook her head. "It's all done," she said. Her eyes travelled around the room as she chewed. "I'm suddenly realising that this is not a big apartment, now that there are two people's things in here." "Well," Rhys said slowly, "if it's too small for you, we could easily find somewhere else to live." "No!" Feyre said quickly. "I didn't mean it was too small. I love it here, I just feel like I've taken up so much of your space." "Still," Rhys murmured. "I actually have another place, pretty far out from the city, but maybe we could take a short vacation there."

Feyre put down her fork. "You have a holiday house?" she asked. "Wow, you kept that one from me." Rhys chuckled. "I had been saving and I didn't know what for. They say property is a good investment." "Well yeah, let's go this weekend! Where is it?" But Rhys just smiled into his mug. "I want to surprise you," was all he would say.

So the next weekend, Feyre packed an overnight bag, and Rhys used one of his silk ties as a blindfold.

"Mmm," he sighed as he knotted it around her eyes. "Now this is a sexy look," he said. "I'm completely at your mercy," Feyre said. "Now where are you taking me?"

Rhys slid his hands around her waist, under her shirt, and pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw. Then he pulled back, and put his teeth on her opposite ear lobe. Feyre shivered.

"We might not get very far at all," Rhys purred, then dropped to his knees and put his mouth on the seam of Feyre's leggings. She gasped in surprise, and reached for his shoulders.

"Oh yes," he said. "I like you blindfolded."

He stood back up, and pulled her into a deep, slow kiss. Then he walked her backward, until her back hit a door. She sighed at the wooden thud behind her, and began to melt in his arms. Rhys laughed, and pulled her bag over his shoulder.

"We'll have to pick this up later," he whispered in her ear, then guided her down to the car.

They drove and drove, and Feyre fell asleep an hour in. She woke when the car stopped, gave a start, and then remembered she was blindfolded.

"Can I take the damn thing off yet?" she asked Rhys. "Soon," Rhys said, then pulled her along.

Inside the house, their footsteps echoed in the empty room. Rhys walked Feyre through to the kitchen, then lifted her up onto the benchtop. He sighed.

"Do you know that kitchen counters turn me on, now? Furniture is making me horny. I blame you entirely."

Feyre smiled, and Rhys ran his thumb along her bottom lip. Then he reached forward, and removed the blindfold.

Feyre blinked a few times, having now been blind for some hours. Then as her eyes adjusted, and she looked around, she gasped. Rhys grinned, and rubbed her leg.

"It's... it's my old house," Feyre said. "Yes," said Rhys. "Well, actually, it's your new house. If you want it." "But... we sold it." "To me. I am so very sneaky." Rhys' eyes danced, but Feyre just gaped at him. He continued.

"This house was the only home I ever knew. And I know how much you loved it. So I... I bought it for you. We don't have to move here, we both work in the city so we can keep living in the apartment, if you want. But now this will be here for you too, whenever you're ready for it."

Feyre put her hands on Rhys' chest.

"I... Thank you doesn't seem like enough. I don't know what to say." "Say nothing," Rhys said. "You gave me a home for many years and I just wanted to give it back to you."

Feyre's eyes filled with tears, and she tugged Rhys closer. He stood between her knees, and she ran her hands up to squeeze his shoulders.

"Well," she said thickly. She looked up at him. "Where do you want to live?" "Wherever you are," Rhys said. And then he kissed her tears away as they spilled over, before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her lips.

****

One more after this, yeah? I haven't written it yet, so it might be a bit longer but... I just don't want to leave just yet.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @asteria-of-mars@booksmusicandgoodvibes @burritowithfeels

[banana-sims]

Choose Your Own Legacy

Disclaimer: There’s likely challenges out there like this. This is simply how I’m playing my current legacy and thought I’d share the details in case it could be useful for anyone. 

Hi friends! This is a legacy format which allows me to explore different aspects of the game while still having loads of freedom to do what I want and tell stories if I wish. 

As I do or complete each thing in the game, I strike it out, with the hope of eventually ticking off everything (but there’s no order to do things in)! Below is the template. Keep or remove whatever items you want! There’s some things I chose not to include (they are in brackets), but feel free to put them back in if you wish. 

RULES:

Begin on an empty lot (size is your choice) with a new young adult sim and $0. No money cheats allowed.

Everything about the sim is up to you. Strike out the traits you use and world you choose to live in. Continue to strike out other stuff as you complete it. I’m also really type A so I put the generation when it was struck out in brackets beside it (ex. G1).

Build a house on the lot as you earn money. Don’t move to a different house, lot or world until the gen 2 heir is a young adult and moves out!

As with normal legacies, the next generation begins when the heir becomes a young adult. You don’t have to move out the heir at this time - I just typically will since it’s pretty normal in real life for children of that age to move out on their own. 

Try not to use any mood cheats (though occasional use for storytelling purposes is fine).

For realism’s sake, when moving an heir out into university dorms or an apartment, I give them $5000 to start with. The rest of the family money stays with the parents’ household (exceptions could be for storytelling purposes). For spares, money doesn’t matter and I give them whatever nice house I choose!

When moving in a significant other, add only $10,000 to the household funds. Deduct anything extra. (This is for the realism of another young adult having saved some money but not having the equity of a whole house to bring into the household)

While I’m only striking out traits if they belong to the heir or spouse, I will strike out aspirations, maxed skills, maxed careers and university degrees for anyone as long as I was playing them for the duration of that task. So, if a spare completes a skill or a degree while I’ve been playing them, I will strike it out since I, as the player, completed it. 

I don’t own Horse Ranch, Realm of Magic, Vampires, Strangerville or Werewolves so these packs and their subsequent aspirations, careers, traits, etc. are not included below. However, you could easily add them to the lists. 

EXPLORE:

Aspirations - (Public Enemy, Chief of Mischief, Leader of the Pack not included) - strike out once completed

Friend of the Animals, Bodybuilder, Extreme Sports Enthusiast, Painter Extraordinaire, Musical Genius, Bestselling Author, Master Actor, Master Maker, Lady of the Knits, Successful Lineage, Big Happy Family, Super Parent, Master Chef, Master Mixologist, Fabulously Wealthy, Mansion Baron, Renaissance Sim, Nerd Brain, Computer Whiz, Archaeology Scholar, Academic, Serial Romantic, Soulmate, City Native, Beach Life, Mt. Komorebi Sightseer, Freelance Botanist, The Curator, Angling Ace, Outdoor Enthusiast, Jungle Explorer, Eco Innovator, Country Caretaker, Joke Star, Party Animal, Friend of the World, World-Famous Celebrity, Inner Peace, Self-Care Specialist, Zen Guru

Artistic Prodigy, Rambunctious Scamp, Social Butterfly, Whiz Kid, Mind and Body, Playtime Captain, Creative Genius

Drama Llama, Goal Oriented, Live Fast, Admired Icon

Careers - (criminal career not included) - strike out once level 10, 5 stars, or reaching the highest-paying gigs

actor, astronaut, athlete, business, civil designer, conservationist, critic, culinary, detective, doctor, education, engineer, entertainer, freelance writer, freelance programmer, freelance artist, freelance fashion photographer, gardener, law, painter, politician, scientist, social media, secret agent, style influencer, tech guru, writer, salaryperson, interior decorator, any part time job

own/run a vet clinic, own/run a retail store, own/run a restaurant

Degrees - (villainy not included) - strike out once graduated

Art History, Biology, Communications, Computer Science, Culinary Arts, Drama, Economics, Fine Art, History, Language and Literature, Physics, Psychology, any distinguished degree

Worlds - (Magnolia Promenade, Selvadorada or Granite Falls not included)

Brindleton Bay, Britechester, Copperdale, Del Sol Valley, Evergreen Harbour, Henford-on-Bagley, Mt. Komorebi, Newcrest, Oasis Springs, San Myshuno, San Sequoia, Sulani, Tartosa, Willow Creek, Windenburg

Traits - (erratic, kleptomaniac, evil, mean, lactose intolerant not included) - strike out ones used for the heir and spouse

ambitious, cheerful, childish, clumsy, creative, genius, gloomy, goofball, high maintenance, hot-headed, romantic, self-assured, squeamish, unflirty, art lover, bookworm, dance machine, foodie, geek, loves outdoors, maker, music lover, recycle disciple, active, adventurous, child of the islands, child of the ocean, freegan, glutton, green fiend, lazy, materialistic, neat, overachiever, perfectionist, slob, vegetarian, animal enthusiast, bro, cat lover, dog lover, family-oriented, good, hates children, insider, jealous, loner, loyal, noncommittal, outgoing, party animal, proper, self-absorbed, snob, socially awkward

toddler angelic trait, toddler charmer trait, toddler clingy trait, toddler fussy trait, toddler independent trait, toddler inquisitive trait, toddler silly trait, toddler wild trait

infant cautious trait, infant sensitive trait, infant calm trait, infant intense trait, infant wiggly trait, infant sunny trait

good manners trait, bad manners trait, responsible trait, irresponsible trait, mediator trait, argumentative trait, compassionate trait, insensitive trait, emotional control trait, uncontrolled emotions trait

Skills - strike out once maxed

charisma, comedy, cooking, fishing, fitness, gardening, gourmet cooking, guitar, handiness, logic, mischief, mixology, painting, piano, photography, programming, rocket science, video gaming, violin, writing, herbalism, baking, wellness, DJ mixing, singing, dancing, bowling, parenting, veterinarian, pet training, archaeology, selvadoradian culture, flower arranging, acting, media production, robotics, research & debate, fabrication, juice fizzing, knitting, rock climbing, skiing, snowboarding, cross-stitch, entrepreneur

Household

male heir, single mom/dad heir, blended family (kids from both previous partners), queer heir, have 1 kid in the generation, have 2 kids in the generation, have 3 kids in the generation, have 4 kids in the generation, have 5 kids in the generation, have twins, have triplets, adopt a child, one night stand pregnancy, broken engagement, marry a childhood friend, marry a coworker, marry someone who was once your enemy/rival, marry someone famous, never get married, have a cat, have a dog, have kittens/puppies

Extra things/collections

live in a tiny home, live off-the-grid for a season, live in an apartment, live in a 3-storey home, live on a farm, sell craftables on plopsy, make/sell candles, have bees/sell honey, craft/sell fizzy juice, reach 5-star reputation for odd jobs

have a child do scouts, have a child do drama club, compete in E-Sports, compete in soccer, join cheer team, join chess team, join computer team, join football team

omiscan treasures and omiscan artifacts collections, city posters collection, snow globes collection, feathers collection, seashells collection, postcards collection, elements collection, mysims trophies collection                                                                                                            

If you want to see how I’m playing it, click here!

[petrichoravellichor]

Rebar Not Included

Written for Day 11 of the Supernatural Deserved Better Creative Challenge (prompt: hunting).

Summary: Jody and Donna help out the Winchesters by looking into an Ohio case involving masked vampires, and what do you know: not only do they manage to kill a certain side character from season 1 but they ALSO make it through without dying! Oh, and they kiss, just because they can.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Jody was just settling down with a book for the evening when her phone rang; she smiled at the name flashing across her screen and swiped left to accept the call. “Hey, Sam.”

“Jody, hi. How are you?”

“Alone, believe it or not. Alex is working the night shift, Claire and Kaia are still on that case down in Miami, and Patience is staying over at a friend’s. Got the whole house to myself.”

Sam chuckled. “That...honestly sounds kind of amazing right about now.”

“How’s Cas? Is he feeling any better?” she asked. It had been nearly a week since Sam and Dean had returned from the Empty with one bedraggled former angel in tow. Jody hadn’t pressed too hard for details at the time—Sam had sounded pretty exhausted when he’d called to tell her they’d made it back safely—but from what she’d gathered, Cas was human now, and his time in the Empty had left him very much in need of recuperation.

On the other end of the line, Sam groaned. “Uh...yeah, you could say that.” A beat, then: “He and Dean haven’t come out of Dean’s room since yesterday afternoon.”

Jody had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "Huh. Well, how do you like that: they finally figured it out.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong; I’m really happy for them. I just wish the Men of Letters had invested in sound-proof walls. But anyway,” he said, changing tracks, “that’s not what I called you about.”

“What’s up?”

“So get this: last night, a family of four in Akron, Ohio, got attacked home-invasion style. Whatever it was killed the dad and drained his blood.”

Jody frowned. “Vampires?”

“I think so, but there’s more. I called and spoke with the police sergeant, and according to her, the attackers left the mom alive but ripped out her tongue, and they also took the two kids.”

Jody’s blood ran cold; she glanced at the photo of Alex, beaming and holding up her nursing degree, over on the mantle. “They’re taking blood slaves.”

“Yeah, looks like it.” Sam paused, then: “The thing is, I don’t think this the first time they’ve done it. Back in ’86, our dad was looking into a string of kidnappings along Route 77, and it was the same thing: whatever it was took the kids and ripped the tongues out of any adult it didn’t drain. By the time Dad started digging around, though, the attacks stopped. Until now, anyway. Here, just a sec, I’m gonna text you something...”

A moment later, Jody’s phone chimed. She put Sam on speaker and tapped to open the message; it was a drawing of what resembled the front part of a skull. “What am I looking at?”

“The mom drew that, the one from the most recent attack; apparently, the perpetrators wore masks. Hang on, I’m sending you another picture. This one’s from our dad’s journal, back when he was working the case in the 80s.”

The second picture loaded, and Jody drew in a sharp breath: the resemblance between the two drawings was unmistakable. “It’s the same nest.”

“That’s what I’m guessing. They seem to always target the same type of home: outside town, isolated, kids between the ages of five and ten. If the pattern from last time holds, they’ll hit Canton next, then East Sparta.”

Jody swallowed. “You want me to look into it.”

“If you’re able to, yeah, that would be great. We’d go ourselves, but what with Cas still recovering and him and Dean...um…” Sam cleared his throat, then continued more smoothly, “I can call someone else if now’s not a good time.”

Jody chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. This felt personal. “No,” she replied, pushing herself off the couch and heading to pack a bag, “I’ll take care of it. Let me grab a few hours of sleep, and then I’ll head out.”

“Great, thank you. I’ll dig around online and text you a shortlist of properties around Canton that seem like likely targets.”

“Sounds good; thanks, Sam. Take care.” She smirked, adding, “And tell Dean and Cas I said hello. Whenever you see them, that is.”

Sam snorted. “Will do. Be safe, okay?”

“Always.” She ended the call, then typed out a quick message to Donna: Hey babe. Feel like teaming up to take down some vamps?

********************

The following night, she and Donna were crouched in the shadows near an abandoned barn in Ohio. Sam’s intel about where the nest would hit next had proven accurate, and by the time a black van carrying two masked vampires had pulled up in front of a rural home outside Canton, Jody and Donna were waiting. They dispatched both vampires easily, sparing one just long enough to learn the location of the group’s nest; now, the only thing left to do was clear out the remaining vamps and free the children who’d been taken captive.

“Okie dokie,” Donna whispered, “our toothy friend back there said they keep the kiddos in a room off to one side. We go in through the side door, then you take right, I take left?”

Jody nodded. “Works for me. Come on,” she said, drawing her machete, “let’s go save some kids.”

They crept over to the barn and entered.

At first glance, the place seemed deserted. They fanned out along the walls, searching carefully for any sign of life, but other than the occasional spiderweb, there was nothing. Then, as Jody neared the back of the barn, she heard it: a quiet sniffling sound coming from behind a latched door. She raised her hand and signaled to Donna, who nodded and hurried over; then, while Donna watched her back, Jody opened the door and saw two small, scared-looking little boys peering back at her. The younger one couldn’t have been much older than her own son, Owen, had been when he’d died, and the realization made Jody’s stomach clench.

She lowered her machete and crouched down to the boys’ level. “Hey,” she whispered soothingly, “hey, it’s okay. You can come out; you're safe. We’re not going to hurt you.”

No sooner had she ushered the two boys to her side, however, than she heard Donna’s warning: “Heads up, Jodes; we got company!”

Five figures were approaching slowly from the front of the barn, all armed with blades. Four of them, the two on either side of the central figure, wore masks similar to the drawings Jody had seen in Sam’s text messages. The fifth, however, was a maskless female vampire dressed in dark leather. As the group drew closer, she looked from Jody to Donna and back again with a scowl.

“You’re not the Winchesters,” she said, as though someone were playing a trick on her.

Donna flashed a grim smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Boys,” Jody said, low and urgent over her shoulder, “run.” She heard their frantic footfalls, followed by the slam of the side door. Good, she thought, hefting her machete as the vampires charged: she didn’t want them to see what happened next.

The first vampire lost its head the second it stepped in their space. Jody spun and slashed, Donna at her back, the clash of blades shattering the still air of the night. It was brutal work, bloody work, and Jody took no pleasure in it. Her only objective was to protect: the boys they’d freed, Donna, Sam and Dean. She had no idea what the vampires wanted with the Winchesters, and she didn’t care: whatever it was, she’d make sure they didn’t get it.

Jody had just relieved a second vampire of its head when something flashed on the edge of her vision; she pivoted, raising her weapon just in time. The female vampire’s blade crashed into her machete and sent a shockwave of pain up her arm, nearly causing her to cry out. There was no time for that, though: the vampire swung at her again and again, driving her back from the rest of the fight before rushing forward, barreling into Jody with the force of a tank.

Jody fell hard to the floor. Her machete flew from her hand, and she could only watch as a triumphant smile split her opponent’s face. The vampire raised her blade to deliver a final blow…and then her head flew off in a spray of red. Her body crumpled to the ground, revealing Donna, blood splattered and furious, machete still hovering at the end of its arc.

“Not my girlfriend, you bitch,” she panted, glowering down at the corpse as though sight alone could set it ablaze; then her gaze shifted to Jody, and all the rage seemed to drain out of her at once. “You okay, Jodes?”

Jody exhaled, nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” She peered past Donna, counting the bodies on the ground and sighing in relief when the total came to five. Donna reached out a hand, and Jody took it, allowing Donna to pull her up and into an embrace. They kissed then, slow, reverent, and it was several moments before Jody could bring herself to pull away.

“Come on,” she said quietly, brushing back a strand of Donna’s hair. “We should go find those boys, make sure they get home safely.”

Donna nodded, and they drew apart, then left the barn without looking back.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

In Over His Headboard

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E Word Count: 7560

This is a submission for the first day of Thotumn, organized by @spideysmjs!!! Today’s prompt: Dirty Talk.

Summary: MJ learns that Ned's best friend went through a lot of backpacks as a teenager. And a lot of headboards as an adult.

MJ is very observant.

But that’s old news.

The other O-word she lives her life by is ‘organized’. In kindergarten, she rearranged everyone’s cubby during naptime (without permission) to suit her precepts. As an adult, she keeps her books sorted by topic and, within that, by size. The handles of her measuring cups are perfectly aligned. The apartment that houses both the books and the measuring cups is tidy, full of furniture with secret built-in storage spaces, and fewer than five miles from the house in which she grew up. MJ has organized and reorganized her own space so many times that, even though her few good friends think it’s crazy, it explains why one of her passions is helping people move.

Packing boxes is a delight. Laying down rugs so that their straight edges are perfectly parallel to the walls thrills her. Helping someone determine exactly the correct lineup of toiletries in the cabinet under their bathroom sink is a religious experience. She doesn’t express her joy in smiles or shrieks of excitement, but in her diligence. She’ll be tucked quietly in the closet, ordering jeans by shade of blue, while the rest of the volunteer movers crack open a beer in the kitchen, calling it time for a well-earned break.

Lately, everyone in MJ’s life has gotten disappointingly settled: her brother and his wife upsizing in suburbia for the baby on the way, her parents (who are finally coming down hard on not letting her shift their knickknacks around anymore), and Betty. Betty’s engaged—so engaged—and simply made space for her fiancé to move in with her, so MJ didn’t get to assemble a single cardboard box. She still feels slightly betrayed.

When Betty calls and starts in about schedules and plans and photographer, MJ assumes they’re about to go over more wedding details. But no, her friend informs her, the schedule involves the timed renting of a moving truck and the access date for a storage unit, the plans are who’s lending a hand and with what, and the photographer is Ned’s friend and future best man, some guy named Peter. MJ forgets the name (and asks Betty for it again later—day-of, as they’re driving to the guy’s apartment building). It’s a dull speck on the metaphorical diamond Betty has just held up to the light for her to inspect—whatshisname needs people to help him move.

Before the pleasure of putting someone’s possessions in just the right spot can commence, there’s the grunt work. MJ understands and accepts this as a necessary evil. On the day of Ned’s friend’s move-in, she dresses in overalls—multiple pockets for micro-organization on the fly—with a cropped t-shirt underneath because there will, inevitably, be stairs and it’s July. She’s trying not to begin sweating too far in advance, limiting her anticipation to a foot jumping on the immaculate rubber foot mat of the passenger seat of Betty’s car and a series of probing questions.

“Doesn’t this guy have any friends?”

“He has friends,” Betty assures her, being a responsible driver and keeping her eyes on the road, “just not a lot of super close friends.”

“And the close friends he does have weren’t available?”

“Umm…” She concentrates on watching the pedestrian countdown light as they cross an intersection. “I think a bunch of them went with him to the storage unit to load up the truck. I guess they don’t have the whole day off.”

“Oh, unlike me, who has nothing better to do.”

“Don’t get snippy. And don’t pretend you wouldn’t have begged to help if you’d heard me mention what I was doing today.”

MJ plays with the seatbelt strapped across her chest, feeling defensive. It’s her go-to reaction whenever Betty reveals how clearly she sees her.

“I was just trying to figure out why I was asked.”

“Ned’s his friend, I’m Ned’s fiancée, and you’re my friend.”

“The six degrees of Michelle Jones,” she mumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing. He lives in Queens?”

“Yeah, Peter’s local. He and Ned went to school together. Crazy, huh?”

“Crazy that you can travel the world and end up with a fiancé and a circle of friends from your hometown,” MJ agrees. Today, Betty’s in jean shorts and a beachy shirt that ties in a knot at the end of its row of iridescent buttons, but MJ mostly sees her on the news, looking as prim and expensive as a collectible doll. She’s a foreign correspondent for CNN, though she’s reining in the foreign part now that she’s living with Ned and about to get married.

“Crazy,” Betty repeats distractedly, making a perfect, tight turn into the belowground carpark next to the building bearing the address MJ wrote down two weeks ago. This is where the magic will happen.

The pile out and her friend beeps her fob to lock the car. She wants to take the elevator that’ll bring them up to the lobby, but MJ insists on trekking back up the ramp they drove down. It stretches her legs, a good warm up. As they emerge from the darkness of the lot and sun slices across their faces, she feels like she’s walking into Disney World. They stand on the sidewalk and right as she’s about to ask Betty when they guys are supposed to make an appearance, a U-Haul pulls up to the curb.

She sees the driver’s side door open and slam shut without seeing the driver, but Ned comes bounding down from the passenger’s side to hold his fiancée’s hands and give her a quick kiss on the forehead (they’re so engaged), then three more guys fold themselves out of the tight back of the cab and hustle around to the rear of the truck. The couple’s display of affection distracted MJ; she can only assume it’s the driver out of sight in the back, passing belongings down to his helpers, who swiftly stack them on the sidewalk near the front doors of the apartment building. There’s an array of boxes, then staggering steps as the guys navigate couches and mattresses out of the truck, racing against the inflexibility of the No Parking and No Idling signs on this street. If a bylaw stooge comes along, they’re screwed. New York’s street signs exist for the city to make money, not for the ease of citizens needing to unload their furniture.

The guy’s—Peter’s—friends are surprisingly quick, so MJ lets the speech she was mentally writing to argue in favour of his right to park the truck in front of the building he’s moving into dissolve in her head. Peter hops down from the back of the truck. From where she and Betty are standing, she can only see his legs and hear the clang of the rear door closing. The trio of extra helpers clamber back into the U-Haul with the intent and discipline of clowns into a clown car and wheel off to return the truck. MJ finally sees the man she’s come to help as he brushes his hands together and steps quickly onto the curb to avoid another car angling into the carpark. He shakes hair off his forehead and squints towards them, sun in his eyes, already smiling.

“Um, hello,” MJ hisses at Betty, quickly turning to her. “Were you going to mention that your fiancé is best friends with Spider-Man? That’s Peter fucking Parker.”

“And I’m Betty fucking Brant,” she counters breezily. She’s looking past MJ, waving at Peter. “I’m on the news more than he is and you don’t freak out when you see me.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Hey!”

MJ spins to look into the eyes of a municipal—no, a national—no, an international hero. She doesn’t say anything fast enough, so he moves past her to hug Betty before coming back to her with eyebrows raised in what looks like a mixture of inquiry, politeness, and gratitude.

“Michelle?”

“But my friends call me—”

“MJ,” he finishes for her, and normally that would be irritating, but Peter Parker is endearingly boyish close-up. He’s shorter than she is. He’s freckled. He does look like somebody she could’ve gone to school with and had a low-key crush on for years and years. The fame can’t touch that, which is why, she figures, his hero-next-door schtick works so well for him. He’s local, like Betty said. Every bit of him sells that and it’s obvious that he’s not trying.

“And yours call you Spider-Man?”

Might as well get that out in the open—that she recognizes him. He laughs easily and glances down.

“Nah, pretty much just ‘Peter’. ‘Petey’ if they either really want to make me suffer or they really like me.”

He gives her a look and it’s brief, but there’s a lot to it. The propositioning tilt of the head, the wolfish curl of the smile, the assessing cut of his eyes to catch her from the corner of his vision. MJ gets a strong sense that ‘really like me’ is a euphemism for ‘enjoy me sexually.’

“We’ll see how I feel once we’ve moved all your shit upstairs, I guess,” she responds flatly.

“That sounds fair.” His voice is bright now, no lurking depravity. “I hope I don’t have enough boxes to make you hate me.”

“Please. Boxes are nothing. I’d be more worried about that dresser turning me against you. What is that thing made of?”

“Solid oak,” he brags, then grimaces. “It sucked just lifting it onto the truck.”

“Can’t you just…” MJ mimes the motion Spider-Man does when he shoots that gunk at people and buildings.

“Lift the furniture up to my building with web fluid?” Peter crosses his arms and looks like he’s really calculating it in his head. “Wouldn’t be graceful. I’d probably smash some windows if I tried to do it from outside, and doing it from inside wouldn’t be that much easier than just carrying it up the stairs. Also, that’d attract a lot of attention and everything I do doesn’t need to make the news, you know?”

“Oh yeah,” she agrees dryly. “I hate it when I’m just grocery shopping and there’s a whole camera crew right in my face.”

He laughs at her sarcasm. Appealing.

“Right?”

And then they have to scurry to catch up because Ned and Betty have already started moving everything into the lobby.

After it’s all inside and not available to be swiped by anyone walking or driving down the street, they decide to take turns carrying stuff up to the fourth floor. (Fourth? MJ could swear she was told second.) One person stays with the remainder of Peter’s stuff while the other three lug boxes and chairs and, eventually, the dreaded oak dresser. She’s too focused on maintaining a brisk pace to really check out his apartment—beyond noting the large windows and protruding edge of the kitchen countertop (that catches her in the stomach while she’s squeezing around a box Ned left too close to the front door). It wouldn’t matter. Layout and organization haven’t been much on her mind since Peter Parker stepped out from behind that truck.

This process isn’t supposed to be a spectacle, but people notice Peter, and Peter, ever the neighbourhood Spider-Man, notices people.

A man exiting through the lobby nods towards Peter’s desk and starts a conversation about materials and quality. MJ almost trips up the stairs with a box in her arms as she hears him say, “Yeah, I’ve got more wood than I know what to do with.” Betty, on her way down, catches her eye and gives her a funny look.

“You’re sweating.”

“It’s hot,” she fires back.

Ned’s above, guiding one end of the couch, and Peter and MJ are heaving the other (mostly Peter) when a different dude narrowly gets past them on a landing, only to turn around and remark on the wonder of them being able to maneuver it. “It’s long,” Peter agrees, “but I’ve fit this thing into some pretty tight places.” Right after, he asks MJ if she needs a break. She’s fine. She only almost dropped her corner of the couch because her hand cramped.

As she’s taking a final box through the door of his apartment, she overhears, “I’ll let him choose the position. What do I know? I’m happy to put it anywhere. The only thing I can be trusted to be in charge of is making sure it’s well-hung.” Stumbling forward, she sees that Peter (who just spoke) and Betty are admiring a large, framed print of him and Ned in cap and gown, clutching diplomas. MJ grabs a bottle of water from the case they carried up here at the beginning—it’s lukewarm, but practically glacial compared to the temperature of her face right now—and asks her friend if she wants to step outside to get a little air before they continue.

Leaning against the wall of the building, MJ chugs some of her water, then hands it off to Betty. While her friend’s drinking, she says, “So, he’s gay, right?”

Betty catches the water that slops down onto her chin.

“What?”

“Peter. He’s gay.”

“I’ve seen him with guys when we’ve all gone to the bar together—”

MJ breathes deeply in relief. She needs him to be gay; the knowledge will quell how she feels when he utters these outrageous, completely explainable sentences, or when he walks ahead of her up the stairs and she’s forced to stare at his ass for four floors, or when she remembers that look he gave her before they started moving everything.

“—but Ned mentioned a serious girlfriend Peter had in high school, so I think he’s bi. Oh my god,” Betty adds in a tone of realization that scares the hell out of MJ. “You want him.”

It takes rapid backtracking and a convincing presentation of the facts (those being every suggestive thing Peter’s said today and leaving out the part about his ass) to wipe the excited look off her friend’s face.

“So, you’ve just been misunderstanding him. And eavesdropping.”

“Can we call it eavesdropping if he has nothing to hide?”

“Fine,” Betty says, rolling her eyes. “It’s not eavesdropping because he has nothing to hide. I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known Ned and, yeah, he might have an entire second identity, but the guy’s an open book. Peter couldn’t be sly if his life depended on it. He’s a goof, MJ. He’d never say that kind of stuff for real.”

Except that they hike back up to the apartment together and Peter’s voice drifts into the kitchen from one of the rooms down the hall, making the women halt and lock eyes.

“Remember how many backpacks May bought you in high school?” Ned chuckles. “This reminds me of that.”

“I do go through a lot of headboards. I’m not trying to break them, but I always put my legs into it too much and I just go so deep.”

“The room,” Betty babbles next to her, gripping her wrist. “I’m sure he’s talking about the depth of the room, coming in through the window too quickly from patrol.”

“It’s easy for you to tell yourself that,” MJ points out. “You’re engaged. You have no reason to think about Peter like that.”

Ned emerges and heads straight for Betty. These two are so gross together that neither of them protests against being hugged, though they’re sweaty from labour. With his arm around her friend’s waist, Ned turns to address MJ.

“Are you hanging around for a while?”

“Yeah, definitely. I can help unpack,” she pledges.

“Great. I know Peter’d like to get curtains put up for privacy today too, because, you know, being Spider-Man and having all these windows don’t really go well together, and you’re the tallest. He’ll probably want your help.”

She’d rather be assigned the task of choosing which kitchen cupboard will hold his plates, his glasses, the cans of premade soup she imagines Spider-Man relies on when he’s always darting around at night, too busy to devote a lot of time to making dinner. But she’s here to help. It’s not her apartment; she’ll go where she can be useful (any maybe do some sneaky rearranging later if he makes dumb organizational choices).

“Babe,” Ned says to Betty, “I’m going on a beer run—and maybe tacos, do you feel like tacos?—do you wanna come with me?”

“Of course, babe, but I don’t want…”

She looks at MJ, who’s trying to be inconspicuous, sorting the boxes labelled ‘KITCHEN’ from those labelled ‘LIVING ROOM’.

“One sec,” Betty tells her fiancé, walking over to MJ. “Will you be alright here if we go out for food?”

“Mhmm.”

Without glancing over, she plucks the X-Acto knife from her overall pocket and slices through packing tape to reveal nested pans, cloaked in mismatched dishtowels to prevent scraping during transport. The combination of careful and slapdash makes her smile to herself.

“It’s rush hour now, so I’m not sure how long we’ll be,” Betty warns.

“That’s fine.”

“I think we all need a little fuel before we settle in to unpack.”

“Yeah.”

“MJ,” her friend says sharply.

“What?”

“Are you ok being alone with Peter for a while?”

“Yes,” MJ says, rolling her eyes. “He’s Ned’s best friend and he’s Spider-Man, not some random creep. I’m not afraid he’s going to jump me. Anyway, I have this.” She waggles the knife.

“I’m more worried about you jumping him.”

She narrows her eyes at Betty.

“Have a little respect for my self-control.”

Her friend just shrugs.

“I’d understand. There’s the allure of him being a superhero and, more importantly, the fact that Ned and I can both vouch for him being a genuinely great guy.”

MJ narrows her eyes even more, this time in suspicion.

“Is this a moving day or a blind date?”

“Oh please.”

“That’s not an answer. Betty,” she presses, but her friend turns and grabs Ned’s hand. The wave as they leave the apartment is mockingly innocent.

Alone, MJ darts a glance down the hall, where she knows Peter is still doing whatever in the bedroom. She’s not going to race in there like some glassy-eyed fangirl. Even if Betty does endorse him so warmly, and he does seem so down-to-earth, and his ass does look like that in his jeans. She lifts his cookware out, one piece at a time, then moves on to the tangled jumble of utensils in the next box, trying to separate a pair of tongs from a warped spatula. She doesn’t hear Peter walk into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says suddenly from behind her.

MJ jumps and holds up the tongs threateningly, but her hand falls as she stares at him. He’s wiping sweat from his neck with the hem of his navy t-shirt. There are his abs and the taut skin below his navel.

“If you have a minute, could you give me a hand with this rod? I can’t get it up on my own.”

Her gaze springs up to his face and she stares at him.

“Huh?”

“The… curtain rod?” Peter says. “I can stand on a chair to do the one end, but I can’t do both ends at once. Do you think you could—”

“Yeah, sure.”

His smile is pleasant and relieved and MJ follows him into the bedroom like he hit her with some sort of magic spell, not just artless, unintentional dirty talk. She sets the tongs down on the floor by the wall; whoops.

“Warm in here,” she notes as she sidesteps a clear plastic tote of Peter’s clothes.

“Yeah, I was gonna open the window, but I didn’t know if the humidity would only make it worse.”

MJ watches as he gestures with one hand and props the other on his hip, hiking up his t-shirt to hook his thumb in the waist of his jeans. She encourages him to go ahead and risk it. The space is unbearable without at least the illusion of fresh air. She redoes her drooping ponytail, feeling new sweat slide down the nape of her neck as Peter crouches and jerks the window up from its sticky sill. Her gaze, and possibly her mind, gets lost somewhere in the breadth of his shoulders. His triceps look as hard and as perfectly rounded as the rolling pin that was still in the box when she left the kitchen. Emptying her chest pocket of odds and ends—knife, scissors, permanent marker, Allen key—MJ unbuckles her overalls, letting the straps and the bib hang down. The buttons on the hips keep the pants part up, but she can’t stand to have the whole thing closing her in any longer. She can’t breathe.

They each take an end of the curtain rod and Peter uses his knees to climb onto his nightstand, already positioned against the wall. It’s overkill because he’s not that much shorter and MJ can hook her end into the bracket without even having to get up on her toes. She’s done first and turns to look at Peter, kneeling on the nightstand with his thighs apart. She pictures joining him on that narrow surface, straddling his lap. God. How long have Betty and Ned been gone?

Then again, why fight it?

“Having some trouble getting it in?” she asks.

The rod clunks against the wall as Peter whips his head around to look slightly down at her.

“Your rod,” MJ clarifies. “You want me to take over? I can handle it.” At his continued dumbstruck silence, she goes on. “Or I can just direct you from here. You could try working it back and forth a little until you get the perfect angle. Then I’m sure it’ll ease right in.”

He hardly seems aware when the curtain rod falls into place. After a few extra moments of immobility, he dismounts and swishes the semi-sheer curtain across the window. She can feel his eyes on her, tracing the strip of stomach between the bottom of her crop-top and the folded-over denim of her overalls.

“What’s next?” she asks. “Maybe go into the bathroom and investigate the plumbing? Or, you know what, I didn’t finish unpacking your utensils. Would you rather go back to the kitchen and get your hands on my box?”

“What are you doing?”

It sounds like his chest is tight, like he’s forcing the words out. MJ smiles gently at the real-life superhero into whose apartment she has miraculously been deposited for today and perhaps only today.

“Helping.”

“Did you have to call it handling my rod?”

“Did you have to tell me you couldn’t get it up without me?” she challenges.

Peter’s mouth falls open and he makes a choked sound of protest, but she raises her eyebrows at him, daring him to argue.

“You asked me for a hand with your rod,” MJ presses. “That was you. You started it. And it wasn’t even then, it was hours ago. What is there in this apartment that you haven’t made some sort of phallic reference to?!”

“I… did I? I’ve been doing that?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Spidey. Own it or don’t, but don’t pretend you haven’t heard some of the shit you’ve said today.”

“Are you offended?” he asks, avoiding her eyes, but not her body; he takes his time staring at that.

“I might be if you don’t do anything about it,” she huffs. “I’d hate to think that Spider-Man’s all words and no action.”

“I’m off-duty.” A sly smile.

“We can just talk,” MJ says casually, thinking that she’ll possibly die of heat exhaustion and unresolved sexual tension if they stand around chatting. “Why don’t you tell me how Spider-Man’s managed to crack so many headboards?”

He shoots her the same kind of look he gave her on the sidewalk.

“It wasn’t always Spider-Man.”

She smirks and gives him a look of her own.

“Then why don’t you show me?”

It’s the honesty in his expression that she appreciates as Peter surges towards her, grabbing her face between both hands and kissing her urgently. She grips his waist and scrunches his t-shirt in her hands. At the first little pause they take to snatch a breath, she peels the shirt up and he yanks it off the rest of the way.

“Nice,” she breathes, stroking his torso with her gaze before adding her hands.

He gives her a jerky nod of acknowledgement and goes for her shirt. Tugging it off screws up her ponytail again, but she doesn’t have time to care; Peter’s kissing her, wet and demanding, while he reaches around and fumbles to unhook her bra. When he nudges his hips against her, she feels him. He’s been making sideways insinuations about his dick all day (whether he admits it to her or not), and here’s the real deal at last. MJ presses her tongue slickly into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering at the urge to open her eyes and see what kind of face he’s making to accompany the groan he lets out as she deepens the kiss. As he draws the straps of her unfastened bra down her arms, she regretfully takes her hands off his chest, swiftly unbuttoning her overalls. Left side buttons, then right. Peter hampers her by grabbing her ass and rolling his hips forward as she’s trying to get her pants down. She doesn’t discourage him. It’s thrilling that he’s handsy.

The room’s a mess—not dirty, thankfully, and she assumes he must’ve come on another day to vacuum and clean, but with a short, uneven stack of boxes in one corner, the container of clothing, the box spring and mattress leaning together against the wall, and the headboard, poking out of the closet because he hasn’t put his bedframe together yet. MJ hates disorganization, especially when it fucks with the logistics of what has all the promising tempo and quick chemistry of a fantastic hookup.

“We could just…” He huffs, lifting his mouth off her neck where he’s started licking and sucking. “…tip the mattress onto the floor?”

She’s taken aback by the idea of fucking Spider-Man on a mattress in the middle of his mess of a bedroom. With the curtain as the only thing to show they made any progress in this room before giving in to their libidos. But she’s in her underwear, overalls ringing her ankles, and the man beneath the famous mask looks hot as hell when he’s been kissed hard and riled into an expectant erection. How else are they going to pass the time before their friends return? Fanning out magazines on his coffee table?

“Let’s do that,” she agrees.

They work as a team to control its fall. The room’s carpeted, so the mattress doesn’t make much of a sound beyond a soft thump when it hits the floor. MJ frowns at it thoughtfully. “You don’t have sheets.”

“Fuck sheets,” Peter says, half declaration, half laugh, and walks across the mattress to get to her.

She smiles against his mouth because it’s funny that he’s momentarily taller, standing on the mattress while her feet are still on the floor. Good thing he’s already taken his shoes off. MJ pulls away and drops to unlace her own sneakers, very, very aware of the rasp of Peter unzipping his jeans right above her head. She steps out of her shoes and overalls, then frees her hair of the elastic, flinging it spontaneously across the room, tousling her hair in her hands to fight the tingling of her scalp as she straightens up.

Oh. He’s already stripped his boxers off.

If her mouth actually does fall open as dramatically as it feels like it just has, it’s fine. MJ forgives herself. You’re supposed to be embarrassed after meeting a celebrity, wincing over every rambling sentence you blurted at them and every awkward twitch in your high-strung body language. Only you will ever recall your spastic behaviour. The celebrity forgot you the moment you exited their line of sight. Wait, will Peter mark her down as a horny fan and forget her? She hasn’t known him long enough to separate the man from the heroic icon, but she hopes neither side of his identity involves treating a partner like that. But no. Doesn’t matter. She can overanalyze later. Peter takes her hands and guides her onto the mattress where they make out standing up for a few minutes—him hot and rigid against her stomach, her not quite naked—before things get so heated that they collapse with roaming hands (Peter) and trembling knees (MJ).

For such a wholesome figure, Spider-Man curses wildly as he slides her underwear off, nose skimming down her skin from between her breasts to below her bellybutton while he works.

“You… you look…” he pants, propping himself up on his hands just to admire her. She has to confess, to herself alone, that it’s flattering, that it’s already making her want more of this: reckless afternoon sex in her friend’s fiancé’s best man’s new apartment. “God, I’m so glad you—”

“Called your bluff?” she suggests wryly.

“And everything before that. I’m so glad you were standing on the sidewalk when I got out of that truck.”

Well. That’s a little earnest. Then again, the man is hovering over her in the nude, so they’re in the heat-of-the-moment realm, during which time, comments of disconcerting earnestness do not count, or can be retracted later with no fault to either party.

To counteract it, MJ teases, “Are you saying you’re glad I came?”

“I’m glad you didn’t immediately leave when I said that thing about my wood,” he confides, kissing swiftly back up to her chest and using nothing but his tongue to toy with her breasts. She gasps at the sudden pull of his teeth, then laughs.

“So you were saying that shit on purpose.”

“Don’t be mad that I was too intimidated by your hotness to flirt with you to your face.”

His tone is playfully giddy and she likes this guy, she really does. She gets a good grip on his soft brown curls and tows him up for more kissing. Her knees bump his bare hips as she forms a cradle for him to drop into. Hint, hint.

Luckily, Spider-Man knows his cue.

He rocks between her legs and her chest rises and falls like breathing is a massive exertion. His angle is almost just right, so MJ shuffles and shifts and he’s endlessly patient as she rubs against him from below, testing. Well, not endlessly patient. The instant she moans in satisfaction, he’s got a hand wrapped desperately around her hip as he grinds down with tenacity. Right. This isn’t just any hookup, any guy. This is the guy who makes a career out of not backing down. Heat flows through her at the sudden thought of being handled with the intensity of one of Spider-Man’s mission.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she says as she feels the head of him slip lower, skipping across her entrance. “Condom.”

Intense, and kind of a lustful dumbass.

“Right,” he agrees, flushed when he raises his face from where he’s been breathing in the scent of her hair. “I have one, uh, in my wallet.”

And then he doesn’t break away from her for a good ten seconds, like he’s hoping she’ll let him slide in bare. Horny motherfucker. MJ wants to screw Spider-Man, not birth his crime-fighting offspring. She tucks her chin and gives him a look that promises, as much as it would pain her, this thing is shutting down here and now if he doesn’t wrap it up. With a resigned exhalation (and a little smile implying he knows what he was trying to get away with), Peter pushes off of her and goes to dig around in the pocket of his jeans. She rolls onto her stomach to study the ropy musculature of his thighs. When he extracts the condom with a triumphant burst of sound, she flips onto her back again and watches him trip over the jeans he just dropped. There’s a charming contrast between this unexpected klutziness and her assumption that he could pull anybody with a pulse using those trusting brown eyes and his Avengers status.

He crouches beside MJ and doesn’t take his eyes off her, flapping the condom between his fingers.

“Should I put this on or do you wanna put it on me?”

She presents her palm.

“Give me that. You can’t even be trusted to install a curtain rod.”

“Oh, I’m extremely ready to install a rod,” he says eagerly, watching her tear the condom open and reach for his waiting cock.

“You know, you’re a real dork for a guy with those commitments and that ass.”

“Thank you?”

Before his uncertainty can swell to self-congratulations, MJ rolls the condom roughly down his dick, making him heave and shake, hips bucking into her perfunctory hold. Smirking, she closes her fist and pumps him quickly, eyes on the blank bliss on his face, his slack jaw. After a brisk minute of this, he begs her to slow down, then, still kneeling at her side, cups between her legs and starts fondling her at an even more vigorous pace than she was using on him. Her breaths come in hiccups and she can’t point out how unfair this is. Just as she’s arching for more, thinking she’s about to come faster than she ever has in her life, Peter stops cold.

“Are you ready to—”

MJ glares and knocks him back onto his ass, then scrambles onto his lap, continuing to push him down until his shoulders touch the mattress. His expression is cheerily confused.

“I was this close,” she says, pinching her fingers together until they nearly touch. When her complaint brings an impish smile to Peter’s face, she pinches those fingers around his nipple, so he hisses and curls into himself. Shaking her head at him, she takes hold of his erection and eases down onto his lap. His ecstatic chant of, “Oh man, oh man, oh man,” is moderately distracting, but MJ persists. It’s just who she is: stoic.

“God,” he groans beneath her as she begins swaying forward and back, “this is almost as good as catching the midnight opening of a new Star Wars.”

She covers his mouth with her hand and he laughs behind it.

“I was just trying to lean into your perception of me. I’m kidding.”

“Are you though?”

But she frees him for the noises he makes. Some of these grunts and whimpers scale her spine like a ladder, raising goosebumps as they go, until the whole sensation comes shivering back down and she finds herself riding him harder.

“Firm mattress,” she huffs.

“’S new. The last one was awful on my back and—ughhhhhhhohfuuuck—with the hazards of my line of work, I figured I gotta start taking care of myself.”

“If you won’t, I will,” MJ mumbles, curving forward to lick his chest, charting it all under her tongue, as she continues to shove back against him.

“Fuck,” he says, short and sharp. He seizes her hips and rolls her beneath him. “You should know, you taking control is a big turn on for me.”

“Clearly.”

She’s not sure how much sarcasm comes across in her gasp because his manhandling has knocked the wind out of her. Actually, she’s happy to let him steer things; being on top was starting to remind her legs of every step she’s walked up and down in this apartment building today, carrying Peter’s shit. He kneads some of the tightness away when he grasps her thigh and digs in with a roll of his fingers. Her moan is as much in relief as arousal. Then he starts thrusting so fast and deep that he has to pull her back towards him every so often so she isn’t forced off the mattress. The hum leaving her mouth is somewhere between breathing and moaning, one note that drags on and on, jumping and breaking when he catches her mouth in sloppy, ravenous kisses.

He’s still doing his damnedest to make out with her when her lips part with a genuine shriek. The tickle of Peter’s tongue against the roof of her mouth somehow adds to the sensation, like a high vibration over the low thrum of him drilling in and out of her. MJ comes seconds into the beginning of her scream; Peter comes with a crack. The sheer force of her orgasm—Spider-Man is clearly not without finesse, he simply does not choose to employ it in favour of fucking like he’s a sportscar running a red on a highspeed chase—has her too stunned to figure out why the sound accompanying his was wrong.

“What was that?” she asks hazily as Peter slumps over her body, breathing hard and still gently thrusting. He’s sweaty, but so is she. With something like pride, she realizes he’ll have to go to sleep tonight with his mattress soaked in her scent.

“Leg slipped,” he says.

MJ does vaguely recall that. In the midst of her climax, he’d moved. It wasn’t enough to distract her, so she’d focused on the feeling, as well as the resolution to not let him get her that close to the edge a second time without going over it.

“And hit what?”

“Uhhh…”

He doesn’t appear to know either, with his bleary, punch-drunk expression that’s unfortunately pretty adorable. No, no, no. A hand with moving, a hasty fuck, and she’s out. The whole day’s been extremely worth her while. She tells herself she doesn’t need more.

But Peter rolls off and she misses his weight and warmth, his shape and soft eyes. He’s sitting on the edge of the mattress with his knees folded high when he goes, “Shit,” under his breath.

Because he also happens to be handling condom-removing at the time, MJ sits up fast, in a panic.

“Did it break?”

His posture inflates with a deep breath, then sags.

“Yeah. I don’t think there’s any way to salvage it.”

Salvage it? That’s a weird fucking thing to say in the situation, like it could possibly matter whether or not they were able to repair the condom after he’s already come inside her. Still, MJ’s skeptic nature makes her grab Peter’s shoulder and wrench it back, only to see the tied-off condom dangling between his fingers. It looks intact. She grips his chin and turns him to look at her.

“What do you mean it’s broken? It’s not in tatters. It’s not leaking.”

“What?” He squints at her, then follows her gaze to the condom. “Oh, not the condom. My headboard.”

Sure enough, she looks up and there’s his headboard, still protruding from the closet, but now in two pieces. The closest is on a slow, sad slide to the floor. He must’ve kicked it. MJ laughs breathlessly.

“Oh, thank god.” Abruptly, she’s pissed. “I thought you were talking about the condom! You don’t scare a woman like that!”

“You thought the condom broke?”

“You had it in your hands and said ‘shit’ in this horrible way and I thought…” She sighs.

“We could’ve made it work,” Peter argues, making her nostrils flare as she puts her underwear back on. “Our baby would be super cute.”

“Our baby?! We met hours ago.”

“I’ve developed stronger bonds in less time,” he says with a shrug, leisurely getting up and sliding his boxers up his legs. Nice ass. No. “You’d be surprised how soon after meeting me some of the villains in this city get themselves so worked up that they wanna kill me.”

She yanks her t-shirt over her head with silent ire. Then has to take it off again because she forgot to put her bra on first.

“Quit looking like that. Nothing happened to you.” Peter’s mouth turns down as he glances over to the wreckage of his headboard. “I have to replace that. Again.”

MJ’s seriously about to snap at this idiot for his insane priorities when he straights up stiffly as he’s stepping into the legs of his jeans.

“They’re back.”

“Who? Betty.”

“And Ned,” he says, now moving faster, doing the fly, throwing his own t-shirt on.

“Inside out,” she says. Not to be helpful, just so that Peter doesn’t give away exactly what they’ve been doing with their time since their friends left.

She goes to swat him when he comes towards her, but then his fingers are buttoning one side of her overalls while she does the other. MJ’s just clicked the straps back into place when the front door opens and closes. Sourness fading, she gives Peter a grateful nod for his help.

“Wait,” she hisses. “Where’s the condom?”

On the instruction of some bizarre reflex, he grabs it from the floor and whips it clear across the room, sending it sailing out the window. Her jaw drops in horror.

“I can’t believe you just—"

“Guys?” Betty calls. “The Mexican place up the street was closed, so we just hit the liquor store for now. How’s the bedroom coming?”

MJ and Peter race to the door; she pulls it closed so fast that it smacks him in the ass, but then he gives her this stupid look like he liked it. And here’s Betty.

“You’re sweaty,” she notes. “Been working hard? You guys get the curtain up?”

“Yep,” MJ says honestly. “No problem.”

Her friend beams in satisfaction, but her expression shifts to conspiratorial as she links her arm through MJ’s and starts to guide her towards the kitchen, likely wanting to know if Peter said anything else colourful during her absence. Except that moron decides to pipe up from right behind them.

“And when we finished with the curtain, we moved on to the bed.”

“You did what?” Ned demands from the kitchen, then comes hurtling around the corner.

“No,” Peter gasps. He flings himself back to the bedroom door and blocks it, holding both hands out to keep his best friend back.

“MJ?” Betty questions with a growing grin.

She glances between the three of them for a moment and realizes there’s no way Peter’s keeping this secret. Time to go on the defensive.

“You brought me here,” MJ argues. “I can’t be blamed for my weakness for organizing—”

“Oh,” Betty shoots back. “For organizing and not for—”

“—apartments. All I—”

“—Peter, who you were so clearly attracted to from the instant you saw him?”

“—wanted to do was—”

“Me?” Peter says, taking a hopeful stab in answer to MJ’s explanation.

She glares at him.

“You flirted shamelessly with me all day—”

“You didn’t even realize I was flirting.”

“—so how am I supposed to help it if— Oh,” MJ says, catching the end of that comment, “and is that supposed to negate the effect it had?”

“I loved the effect it had. I have nothing to say against it.”

“How did you two go from shy teenagers sneaking glances at each other to an old married couple within the last half-hour?” Ned asks, jubilant.

“You’d have to ask my new neighbours,” Peter says calmly. “I think the scream they overheard is probably enough of an explanation.”

“That scream was on you,” MJ protests.

“And the noise complaint I’ll probably get is on you!”

“Sounds like you two should exchange numbers,” Betty suggests brightly. “In case you need to follow up for that noise complaint.” They both look at her. Then, MJ withdraws her phone from the back pocket of her overalls and pushes it into Peter’s hand.

“Fine,” she says.

He agrees with a shrug, eyes on the screen as he taps out his information.

“Come on, you crazy kids,” Ned coos, “let’s grab a beer while they’re still hot from the walk back.”

Betty giggles at this and twines her fingers through her fiancé’s.

In the kitchen, she pulls MJ aside right as MJ’s contemplating squeezing past Peter a second time on the pretext of getting ice. (The first time, she pressed her ass to his groin and felt him rub against her in response.) She didn’t even need the ice; she dumped it straight into the sink.

“So, how was that?” Betty asks, searching MJ’s face keenly for approval and recognition of a job well done.

“Perfect,” MJ has to grant her. “He did something incredibly irritating right before you guys got back, so I’m sure he found my annoyance entirely organic.”

“Method number sixty-three for getting a guy’s number still works like a charm. Though you know you could’ve just asked me for it.”

“Yeah, but messing with him was more fun.”

Her friend smiles against the lip of her bottle.

“Do you feel bad?”

“Nah. He’s been messing with me all day.”

“Hey, MJ,” Peter calls to her from where he and Ned have started emptying another box marked ‘KITCHEN’. “You wanna help me screw something to the wall later?” Smiling broadly, he waves a magnetic wall-mounted knife holder.

“Like that,” MJ stresses to Betty, then tosses her bottle cap so it bounces off Peter Parker’s stupid, smug, handsome face.

[mourntheantagonist]

Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 |

| part 7: | one |

Part 7: When Blue Met Pink

chapter two: max

also on ao3

Birthdays at the Hargrove Household were never some extravagant event. Nobody ever had a party where they would get to invite a small number of friends and order a store bought sheet cake from the local grocer. They didn’t play fun party games like pin the tail on the donkey or musical chairs, they only ever had the four of them. Just Neil, Susan, Max, himself, and a lopsided chocolate cake Susan made from a box. It was only ever dinner and dessert, and a short section in the night where they would open gifts. 

Max’s Birthdays did always have a little more effort put into them, but it was still just the basic dinner, gifts, and dessert sequence with just a slight bit more care. Susan made a whole deal out of waking her up in the morning singing ‘happy birthday’ to her and making her favorite breakfast, while Billy was lucky to have Neil toss him a morning beer, but still, there were never any outside guests or fun traditions to make the time pass by. So on the day of Max’s fourteenth birthday, she sat there in her room by herself talking to friends on the phone and reading comics, while Billy sat in his, reading books he has read a thousand times before, both of them just waiting for the time on the clock to strike five.

Because the shitty part about birthdays at the Hargrove Household was that you weren’t allowed to leave unless it was for school or work. They treated birthdays like family days, where no outsiders could enter. They were meant to all be together, that was the idea, except Neil’s idea of togetherness was just being all under the same roof, in separate rooms, wasting away from the complete boredom. 

At five o’clock, they all simultaneously exited the rooms they had all cooped up in and joined Susan in the steam filled kitchen. The smell of chocolate icing and whatever casserole she chose to make occupied the whole house. Max sat down at the table that had one wrapped present sitting on top of it. It was rectangularly shaped with pink paper and a purple bow, a color combination that made Billy laugh. 

“Go ahead and open it up dear,” Susan said, “dinner will be ready in just a moment.”

Billy and Neil followed suit and took their own seats at the dinner table and watched as Max opened up her gift. She tore the paper open without much care, pink scraps flew everywhere. Underneath the pretty mess was a brown cardboard box that was sealed shut with packing tape. Billy watched as she struggled to pull the tape up from the cardboard. He watched as her face tightened as she dug her nails into the cardboard and struggled against the tape’s strength, and eventually slid his keys over to her so she could slice it open and stop the dramatic grunting. She took them with a half smile half smirk and jabbed the key into the space between cardboard flaps like she was mad at it, like she was gutting it for dinner, and dragged the sharp metal the whole length of the box. But, her smile slowly disappeared into just a resting look when she finally saw what was inside.

“What did you get kiddo?” Neil asked after he swallowed a swig of his probably sixth beer of the day. The look on her face was a very recognizable disappointment that seeped through despite the also clear efforts she was giving to conceal it. Her eyes grew soft and her whole face just fell into a dead stare.

“It’s Makeup.” she said. Her voice came out just slightly broken, noticeable only to those who were paying attention to it, noticeable only to Billy. She pulled out a few things from the box at the request of Susan. There was a package full of an entire shade range of sparkly  lip glosses, a face palette with blush and bronzer, some nail polishes of all different types of reds, all the way from the darkest burgundy to the brightest scarlet. Max’s reaction differed widely from Billy’s. Just the drop of the word ‘makeup’ made his heart skip a beat. A wave of fear washed over him as paranoia grew. He sat there wondering whether or not he remembered to take off the mascara he was practicing with earlier, were there black smears around his eyes? He looked down at his hands almost as if it were instinct to make sure the only coat on his nails was clear.

He was always very sure though. He had to be. He would rub the cotton pad over his eyes until the whites of them turned red and bloodshot, possibly even bursting a blood vessel in the process. He would make absolutely sure the area was completely clean before he even dared exit the slight safety he had within the four walls of his bedroom. A safety that in no way compared to the ease and comfort he felt under Steve’s roof wrapped up in his arms, but a safety nonetheless.

Max’s disappointment made Billy feel total envy. Jealousy, hate, resentment… She was completely ungrateful. She was not only able, but encouraged to do all of the things that he would be shamed for, and there she was, with a frown masked behind a fake smile that Billy saw right through, and he was envious. 

And he didn’t like it.

Because he was thinking all of the things people said about people like him, but in the opposite, and about Max. It was a constant battle within himself to fight off the internal monologue telling him how things are supposed to be. Billy was supposed to gag at the idea of sleeping with another man and wearing women’s clothing, Max was supposed to be overjoyed with all of this makeup, but instead she faked a smile and put everything right back in the box. She forced out a ‘thank you’ to Susan, and the rest of the evening continued on as if it was just a blip. At least that was how it appeared to everyone but Billy, who let his eyes wander over to the cardboard box on the counter every several minutes because it was always on his mind how that box would just end up in the back of Max’s closet along with all of the other useless things she’d bought in the past. It would all just sit there to collect dust while Billy was out scrounging for scraps because he didn’t have the guts to buy it himself, and Melvald’s only had so much to offer.

They sang happy birthday before the lopsided cake Susan made would eventually topple over due to gravity. Max’s mood seemed to lift as they broke out the dessert, because you really couldn’t go wrong with chocolate cake, even if it came straight out of a Betty Crocker box. It was a strangely okay night despite Billy’s constant averted attention. They all gathered for a movie and for just the two hour run time, they felt a little bit like a normal family. Passing around a popcorn bowl and curled up under blankets, it almost felt like a trap.

He brought his gift to her after the movie. It was a sock full of about ten dollars worth of quarters. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Money for the arcade? A weapon? That’s up to you. Happy birthday.”

She showed her first genuine smile of the night before he left her room.

“Thank you.”

When Billy went to bed that night, the thoughts of Max and her makeup dissolved into his sleep, and he woke up without a trace of the resentment and subsequent guilt he had felt the night before. He went on with his day without a second thought about the box that had been at that moment sitting in the corner of Max’s bedroom along with all the other makeup products Susan had bought before. 

It really had slipped his mind completely. He had other things to think about, other people to dream about, it was simply a blip on his radar and it wasn’t until several days later when he was gathering Max’s laundry so he could do an extra load, that it all came flooding back to him. Jealousy pumping through his veins at the sight of all the flavored lip glosses and those little duo eyeshadow palettes that were only a dollar at the drugstore piled high and unopened. 

So he made a bad decision. Uncalculated and reckless and would prove to be something he would regret. He dropped the laundry basket to the ground and began stuffing some things into his pocket. Several eyeshadows and glosses and nail polishes. She never touched them. She wouldn’t miss them. 

And there was no way she would know it was him, right?

Wrong. Because luck was not something Billy had. Because of course Max had to enter the house as quiet as a mouse and not make her presence known. Of course she had to walk right into her bedroom while Billy was wrists deep into the cardboard box full of makeup, with no excuse prepared on the tip of his tongue. 

When they both realized what they were doing they both froze and stared at each other, hoping their lack of movement would serve as invisibility. Max stood with her hand still firmly gripping the door knob and Billy’s hands had quickly retracted from the box, a tube of lipstick still in between his fingers and pockets visibly full with other stolen goods.

Neither of them said a word, too scared and too unsure of exactly what to say. Billy’s heart was in his throat and his fists were clenching tight enough that the glass tube could easily break.

So instead of speaking, instead of coming up with some kind of defense, he ran out. Slightly shoulder checked Max on his way through the door, took a straight path directly to his car outside, and drove to the one and only place he knew to go. The one place that he felt truly safe.

Because he didn’t feel safe right then. He felt like his world was getting ready to implode on itself and he just wanted to have those last few moments of comfort before everything inevitably went to complete shit.

He didn’t let himself cry. He was stone cold the whole drive over to the mansion at the edge of town. He didn’t break down until Steve’s arms were wrapped around him where they stood on the front porch. Sobbing into Steve’s jacket sleeve leaving tear stains and gripping the fabric tight enough between his hands he may leave permanent wrinkles.

“Hey hey hey,” Steve whispered into his ear, squeezing him tighter, surely tight enough to feel the fullness of Billy’s jacket pockets. “What happened baby?”

“I fucked up Steve. I fucked up.” Billy just repeated those last three words over and over again until his voice ran out of breath and they faded into nothingness, just complete silence from mouthed words.

“Come inside.” Steve said, taking Billy’s hand into his. “It’s okay, you’re here with me.”

Steve led Billy in through the doors of his house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve’s house was generally a safe haven for Billy, but Steve’s room… he felt like nothing could ever get him when he was in there. Those four walls plastered in hideous plaid wallpaper felt like an indestructible barrier, and he loved that every time he entered that room, a little piece of him found its way inside. A little piece of evidence that he existed.

It had started with the first Polaroid they took with each other. A blurry and overexposed shot of them out at the quarry at the ass crack of dawn when Steve thought that waking up early and watching the sunset would be a good idea. It wasn’t. Mosquitoes were everywhere eating at his flesh, it was cold as shit, and they were both starving… But then they saw the sun peek over the horizon and all the desire he had to leave had flipped a switch and suddenly he was glued to his seat in the dirt. Steve’s hand was rested on top of his, completely alone together in total silence getting to witness something beautiful together. It was amazing, but Billy would gladly not do it again, or rather stay in the car at least the next time, pack blankets and food so at the very least he’d be able to feel his fingers when he clicked the shutter on the camera. The photo hung on the cork board above his desk next to various others they had taken over time until they eventually ran out of film.

The next thing was the drawer that Steve had cleared out in his dresser after Billy had needed to borrow clothes just one too many times. The very drawer that began this whole journey that Billy was going on. 

The main point was, Steve’s room was eventually starting to become their room. Little by little, piece by piece… And it was safe. The place where he laid in bed in that little green lace teddy where Steve had told him he was beautiful and that there was nothing wrong with him. The place where Steve fucked him in the pretty baby blue panties he bought for him. The place Steve took him to take off all that makeup he had just put on him the other day. 

Now it was the room Steve took him to, sat him on the bed, and cradled him in his arms as he cried. 

“Just let it out, it’s okay.” Steve cooed in his ear.

And he did. Loud and unrestricted sobs escaped him until he was completely drained and out of tears and Steve’s crushing hold on him had calmed him down just enough to the point that he could finally speak.

“I stole from Max.” He said, reaching into his pocket to pull out one of the glosses he’d taken. His hand was visibly shaking. “She caught me… she’s gonna… she’s gonna tell her mom or my dad, Steve!” His breathing was growing erratic again and Steve immediately responded by grabbing Billy’s face and angling it toward him so that he was forced to look him directly in the eyes.

“Hey Bills, breathe. I’m right here.” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Max doesn’t seem like the kind of person to just tell like that.”

“Really!?” Billy snapped. “She doesn’t?! Do you not remember how I ended up in this shithole in the first place? Max has no idea how to keep her mouth shut.”

“Billy, that was almost a year ago, and trust me. She’s better at keeping secrets than you think.” Steve ran his fingers through Billy’s hair to try and bring him back to his senses before he completely blew up. He pulled Billy in for a lengthy chaste kiss which proved successful at evening out his staggered breathing. “While you’re here, why don’t we try out some of these stolen goods? I wanna see what this tangerine flavor tastes like.”

Billy’s demeanor finally softened and he handed the gloss over to Steve and let him apply it to his lips. Always so gentle in how he let the applicator slide against them, a striking contrast to how he treated his lips when he was kissing him. Billy smacked his lips together and dragged his own tongue against them. “Tastes good.” he said with a shy smile.

“Well save some for me!” Steve said before pulling Billy back in by the nape of his neck and giving a perfect demonstration of that contrast he mentioned. Taking Billy’s lower lip in between his teeth, sucking on his lips like he was consuming his dessert, which wasn’t necessarily untrue. They kissed each other until every last bit of the lipgloss they had just applied was completely licked off and their mouths were red and puffy. They separated and before Billy could go back in for another round, Steve put his hand up to Billy’s chest to stop him. “As much as I love kissing you, you should probably run home before your dad sends out a search party.”

Billy sighed, because he was right. He ditched the stolen makeup in Steve’s bedroom and said his goodbyes, saying several little prayers to himself so that just maybe, when he finally got home, Max would still be in her room, having not said a fucking word about what she saw.

Sure enough, when he got home, Neil was fortunately working on the truck in the garage, a pretty good sign that Max hadn’t told, but still, he entered that front door with extreme caution. Susan was in the kitchen preparing the leftover spaghetti from the night before for dinner, and Max was nowhere to be seen. Rather than poking the bear, he went directly to his room to actually prepare how he wanted to confront her about it. He just wanted to sit down on his bed and try to relax, but instead there was something in the way.

Sitting on his bed was the same cardboard box he’d had his hands rifling through just an hour ago. Still full of all that still sealed makeup she had acquired over the years. There was a small sticky note attached.

“Maybe you’ll be able to get more use out of this shit  than I did. - Max”

He turned around to make sure nobody was there and he was nearly given a heart attack when he saw Max standing in the doorway.

“Jesus you need a fucking bell on you.” he said after trying to recover from the initial shock.

“I covered for you.” Max walked all the way into the room and shut his door behind her. “I’m sorry if I scared you, I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“How did you know it was for me?” he asked, the reluctance clear in the way his voice cracked.

“You looked happy.” she said, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Billy waved the little note he had in his hand and matched her slight smile. “Thank you… for this.” 

Max just nodded. At that point Billy expected Max to just leave his room and that would be it, but she just stood there, like she had more to say.

“Is there something else?” he asked.

Max fiddled with her hands and finally found the courage to get the words out. 

“Where did you go?”

“Huh?” Billy asked, pretending not to understand the question.

Max sighed and finally looked up at Billy with serious eyes. “Did you run off to Steve’s after I found you?”

If you had asked Billy how he would have reacted to that question yesterday, he probably would have panicked just like he did when she had caught him in her room. But right then, it was different. He didn’t feel that same panic and fear when he heard Steve’s name pass her lips like that, instead he felt a little proud. He almost felt safe. Just like he did in Steve’s bedroom. He no longer looked at Max and saw the little girl who outed him to his dad or the little brat who ran off when he was supposed to be watching her and later stabbed him in the neck with some needle. Instead, at that moment he saw his sister who not only kept her mouth shut about the makeup, but fucking gave it to him. He felt safe.

“Yeah, I did.” he said, his smile didn’t falter.

Max’s smile widened along with his.

“Good. I’m glad.”

next part

[cami-chats]

College Boyfriend

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves/Diego Hargreeves

Summary: Five was a condescending know-it-all, made all the worse to his project partners by the fact that he did know all of the material already. The university wifi crashing ends with them at Five's apartment, and they leave with more questions about his personal life than before.

Read below or on AO3

Five liked his life. It was strange to think after so many years of not being content let alone happy, but he was. All of his siblings were a phone call away. Allison was on the other side of the country, but she was still reachable. The Academy had gotten a makeover, so Vanya and Klaus had moved back in with Luther.

And then of course there was Diego, but Five saw Diego every single day in the apartment they shared. Convincing Diego to move out of his back room at the gym hadn't been as easy as Five had imagined, but in the end, he'd been triumphant. Diego still worked at the gym in the evenings, but now he stayed at their apartment in the day or visited the Academy instead of wasting away in that dank hole-- Five's words, not Diego's.

Five spent his days at college, attending classes and doing his homework, and he spent his nights kissing Diego. It was a nice little arrangement, if he did say so. He could've stood to look a little older, though. Diego looked the thirty-five years old that he was, but Five looked to be, at most, twenty-five. He'd like to be forty, maybe forty-five. Forty-five was a nice age. Comfortable in your own skin, but not so old that you were falling apart. He couldn't deny that there was still a bit of an itch under his skin from being so young, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as being a teenager had been.

Looking like he was twenty let him do what he wanted, without any of the aches and pains that age brought. Still. He could've done without his professors talking down, like they knew more than him. Like Doctor Davis, who taught his Shakespeare class. She said that she'd been studying Shakespeare for ten years, and Five wanted to tell her that that wasn't shit because he'd spent a full fifteen years arguing with Delores about Lady Macbeth's motivation-- and they'd disagreed to the very end. But he couldn't say that, which meant he and Doctor Davis spent a lot of time glaring at each other when they talked. He was pretty sure he was the sole reason she'd decided to give them a fucking group project, but she wouldn't admit as much. Diego thought it was funny the way he thought everything was funny when it didn't concern him. What an ass.

*

Five was a pretty weird guy. He was condescending-- which wasn't that weird-- but he actually already knew all the material. There was no reason for him to be in the class other than the degree requirement. It was really easy to be condescending when you were right, they guessed. 'They' being Five's unfortunate partners for the group project that they had in Shakespeare. Five had protested loudly at a group project, but Doctor Davis had only shrugged and said it was part of the curriculum.

They met up at the campus library two times before, and this was the third time so they could finish. Things were going pretty well-- or at least, they started going well once they figured out that Five's insults weren't personal and he didn't really care. It was more like he had no brain to mouth filter, so that every little thought came out where most people would've stopped before saying it-- even with that being said, he was still annoying. They didn't like him, and he didn't like them. For the most part, they ignored that to get the work done.

They were so close to finishing. Another two hours, and they'd be set.

That was when the internet went out. For all of them. They were in the middle of restarting their laptops and reconnecting to the wifi when an announcement went over the PA. "Attention to all occupants. The campus internet is out, and we've been told that it won't be fixed until tomorrow morning at the earliest. We apologize for the inconvenience."

"Shit," Allen breathed. "Does anyone live off campus? I'm in the dorms."

"Me too," Aisha said with a worried frown.

"I live in the sorority house, but it's the same wifi as the campus," Judy said.

None of them really wanted to ask Five, but after clenching his jaw for a moment, he answered on his own. "I guess we can go to my apartment."

"Okay, cool," Allen said, trying not to sound as thrown as he was, and they all started packing up now that they knew what the plan was. "Thanks."

"How long does it take to get to your place on the bus?" Judy asked.

Then, looking even more uncomfortable than before, Five said, "I'll just drive us."

"You have a car?" Judy said, surprised. Five didn't bother to answer, but after seeing the car, it became clear that Five was loaded. What other college kid had a Rolls Royce? She half expected for him to pull up to a swanky condo, but he went to an ordinary looking apartment building and parked.

Every inch of his posture screamed that he didn't want to be inviting them to where he lived, but they were sort of out of options for other places to go. There were coffee shops and shit, but with the campus wifi out, every student that lived in the dorms would be filling those places and there wouldn’t be room for all of them.

Five unlocked the door, and they all filed in, not knowing what to expect from his place. Walls of books would've fit right in with his know-it-all aura, but an empty living room with no decoration also wouldn't have been out of place. The way his living room actually looked was almost too normal. There was a tv set up on a stand that probably hadn't been made for it. There was a small bookshelf stuffed more books than it could easily hold. One couch and a banged up coffee table in front of it with various items on it. There was a poster for an Allison Hargreeves movie on the wall, and what looked like an oil painting.

The thing that really got to them was that Five didn't live alone. It was obvious in the way the living room was built to accommodate two people-- the two hooks for coats and the indent of where two pairs of shoes usually sat at the door, not to mention the set of dishes by the sink that couldn't only be accounted for with only one person. His roommate was either as weird as him, or a normal person trying to ignore his eccentricities, and his project partners hoped that they'd never have the chance to figure it out.

Five grabbed an index card from the tv stand and put it on the coffee table while he worked on clearing the rest of it off. Aisha glanced at the card and realized it was the wifi network information. She pulled out her laptop and tapped impatiently as she waited for it to boot up. She got her internet set up, then passed the index card to Allen since he was next to her. She took a glance around but didn't see an outlet. Her laptop's battery was shit; she wouldn't be able to make it through the evening without plugging it in.

"Hey Five?" Aisha said, the end of her charger in one hand.

He glanced over at her, then nodded to the right of her. "It's at the edge of the couch."

"Thanks."

None of them made themselves comfortable, knowing that this wasn't a social visit. It was an awkward hour as they hurriedly worked, but they didn't get a chance to finish before they were interrupted. And when the interruption came, it came in a big way. Like a fucking superstar walking into the room, because that's exactly what happened. It was Allison Hargreeves! Allison fucking Hargreeves walked into the place holding a massive picture frame.

There was no way Allison Hargreeves was the one who lived here. Simply no way. She had a kid and shit, didn't she? And she wouldn't settle for living in a place like this-- it wasn't a dump or anything, but it wasn't where a famous movie star would live. What the hell was she doing here? Come to think of it, Five's last name was Hargreeves, wasn't it? Maybe they were related somehow. It would certainly explain the expensive car and the better-than-you attitude. Hell, if Aisha had Allison Hargreeves for a sister, she'd think that she was better than everyone else, too.

Another woman walked up behind her, looking like a housewife straight out of a fifties advertisement, from the smile on her face to her perfectly coiffed hair to the short heels on her feet that matched her skirt.

"Oh hey Five," Allison fucking Hargreeves said, like she saw him everyday.

He glanced over at her. "Did you seriously fly over from LA to go shopping with Grace?" Then his eyes flickered over to the other woman. "Hi Grace."

"Hello Five, darling," she said. It was kind of unimaginable that Five let anyone call him darling, but he didn't seem bothered by it.

"Actually," Allison Hargreeves said, "I came over to hang out with Diego, and he wanted to go shopping with Mom. I didn't have anything better to do, so I tagged along. He said you were busy tonight." She glanced over at them and smiled, then gave a little wave with her free hand.

They all waved back numbly. "We're working on a group project together," Judy managed to say.

"Are you going to introduce us?" Grace-- Mom??-- asked.

"No," Five said bluntly. "We're not friends."

"You really should make some friends," Grace said, her smile still in place. "They're important for your social development." All he had to do was look at her, and she said, "Sorry dear. It's instinct."

"I can be out of your hair soon, if you want," Allison Hargreeves said.

"Whose hair are we getting out of?" a man asked, kicking the door closed. You ever look at a guy and think 'I don't want to fuck with him'? Yeah, that was this guy. The paper bags he was holding from shopping weren't intimidating, but his clothes barely hid a strong physique, and the scar on his head only added to the badass factor he had going on. Allen was pretty sure the only people that owned boots like that were familiar with breaking people's bones, and he shrank in on himself slightly without thinking about it. Then he saw Five and said, "Hey babe." He said it to Five. Was... was he Five's boyfriend?! Was Five living here with his boyfriend?? "Something wrong with the library?"

"The internet decided to die," he said wryly. "We're almost done."

"Cool." Five's boyfriend (probably boyfriend??) walked towards the bedroom, and Allison Hargreeves and that Grace woman followed him. The door stayed open, but it was far enough away that when they spoke, the group could only hear the murmurs of their voices and not the words that were being said.

They were distracted for a little while by the fact that they'd just met Allison Hargreeves, the most famous and talented actress in Hollywood, but they managed to get the rest of the work done without wasting too much time.

If it were anyone other than Five, they probably would've been able to get an official introduction to her-- maybe a picture or two-- but they finished the project, gave it a quick read-through to make sure there was nothing obvious missing, and then they were being ushered out. Aisha got out her phone and ordered an Uber as they packed up.

Five turned his head and called, "We're done!" down the hallway.

As they left, Judy saw Five kiss the man that had walked in with Allison Hargreeves and Grace. Definitely his boyfriend, then, though personally, she thought that he was too old for Five. She knew better than to say that aloud, so she just said goodbye and that she'd see him in class.

They were all glad that they only had the one class with Five.

[keanuficfiles]

Babyhood Drabble

Note: I just woke up this morning in a fluffy, domestic kind of mood, made a moodboard, and this Keanu tooth-rotting -fluffy drabble followed.❤️

Keanu woke to the early morning light shining on his face. He winced against the brightness and quietly slipped from the bed to lower the shades. Rubbing his palms over his eyes and letting out a silent yawn he looked over at the bed where his wife was curled up still sleeping. It had been a short night. The small sleeping bundle in the bassinet beside the bed being the reason. He smiled softly. In the three weeks since they brought Harper home from the hospital, sleep in the Reeves household had been inconsistent at best. As much as he appreciated the sunshine, he wasn’t about to let it rob his girls of any of their rightful rest. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was just before 7, which meant that Harper would probably be waking before too long anyway.

He slipped back into bed and smiled as his wife immediately snuggled into is side and rested her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. Within moments they were both asleep again.

The next time Keanu awoke it was to the soft fussing noises of his daughter. She wasn’t quite crying, but she was letting them know she was awake and wanted attention. He loosened his hold on Y/N as she sat up and leaned over to pick up the baby, who immediately settled a bit at the sight of her mother.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Y/N cooed. “Did you get a nice rest? Are you hungry?” She glanced at the clock. “It’s 7:30. That’s not too bad. You slept for 3 hours that time.” She pressed soft kisses into her daughter’s neck as she whispered to her, unwrapping her from her swaddling blanket and smiling as Harper stretched.

Keanu scooted behind Y/N and looked over her shoulder as she leaned back against him. “Good morning, little love.” He said as he reached his hand around Y/N to tickle his daughter’s tiny palm. Immediately she grasped on to his finger and let out a happy squirm. He chuckled softly, still amazed at the feeling such a small gesture gave him and pressed a smiling kiss into his wife’s neck. “And good morning to you, gorgeous.”

Y/N turned her head and kissed his whiskered jaw. “Morning babe. Thanks for the extra 40 minutes of sleep.”

She moved Harper so she was nestled in the crook of her arm and leaned back against Keanu as she lowered her sleep shirt and brought Harper to her breast. She immediately latched on, and Y/N gave a small wince. The baby had a strong suckling reflex. She settled back fully against her husband’s chest as he wrapped his strong arms around her and watched his daughter eat, occasionally stroking her soft little cheek.

“I will never get over how perfect she is at moments like this.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “Yes. Right now it’s easy to forget about the two hours last night when we couldn’t get her to calm down.”

They snuggled in bed as a family until Harper ate her fill, then Y/N gently passed the baby to her husband. “Could you burp her? I’m in desperate need of the bathroom.”

“Sure.” Keanu took a cloth and the baby and propped her against his shoulder like a pro. This was a maneuver he’d become quite adept at over the past few weeks. And he was pretty proud of the fact that he could usually get a burp out of the baby in record time. It was one of his newfound “Dad” skills.

Keanu smiled when he heard the shower turn on a couple minutes later. “Looks like your Mom will be a little bit longer,” he commented to Harper as he patted her back. She responded with a loud belch, making him laugh.

By the time Y/N emerged from the bathroom toweling her wet hair, father and daughter were no longer in bed. She dressed in a pair of loose lounge pants and a clean t-shirt and went in search of her family, finding them in the kitchen. Harper had been changed and was wearing a fresh onesie, and was strapped into her baby seat, while Keanu was making eggs and sipping from his coffee cup, carrying on a one-sided conversation with the baby. “And later this morning, maybe you and I can talk your Mom into going on your first outing? Would you like to see the bookstore?”

Keanu startled slightly as a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a familiar body pressed against his back. “Oh she’s pretty agreeable. I think she could be coaxed into it,” Y/N murmured as she kissed the back of his shoulder, and ran her hands underneath his t-shirt to feel his warm skin.

Keanu set his mug down and turned so he could return Y/N’s embrace. “You do, huh?” He pressed his lips against hers in a slow, lingering kiss.

When they broke apart, Y/N was slightly breathless. Even after nearly four years together, his kisses could still make her dizzy. “Keep that up, and share some of that coffee with me, and you stand a very good chance of getting whatever you want.”

Keanu winked. “It’s a deal.”

Y/N took a sip of his coffee and then greeted her daughter. “You look so cute in that outfit from Grandma. Daddy did a good job of getting you ready today!” she tickled her belly and pressed kisses into her cheeks. Harper wiggled in delight at the attention, causing the chair to bounce lightly.

While Y/N played with Harper, Keanu finished plating breakfast and brought it over to the table so he could sit next to his wife as they ate and watched their daughter. Y/N took a bite of eggs and toast and smiled in bliss. “Mmm. Babe, if I didn’t already love you before, I’d be head over heels now.”

Keanu shook his head. “It’s eggs and toast, not really Michelin star cuisine.”

“Hush you! I’m a new mother, and I just got a shower and slept for like 5 hours last night. This meal right here might as well be breakfast at the Ritz.”

“Well then I’m happy to oblige,” Keanu replied fondly as he reached out to tickle Harper’s kicking foot.

Y/N glanced around the kitchen and deflated slightly. “However, before we try to venture out with Little Bit, I think we need to clean this kitchen. It’s a bit of a disaster.”

Keanu just shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I called the cleaning service and asked if they could come today. I also upped the regular frequency. They’re coming twice a week now to do light cleaning and help keep up with everything. I’m still amazed that one tiny baby can cause so much extra work.”

“Keanu I—"

But Keanu cut her off by gently pressing a finger to her lips. “Don’t. It’s something we can easily afford, and it means we can spend more time together with Harper. You’re still recovering from her birth, and I don’t want you worrying about the house too. Just let me handle this.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t as though she was the first person to have a baby, but she also recognized this was one way Keanu liked to take care of her. And he was right; Harper’s birth had been difficult, and she wasn’t bouncing back as quickly as she’d hoped. Besides, she HATED cleaning the kitchen, so she relented and nodded, kissing his finger that was still pressed to her mouth. “Thank you.”

They finished breakfast, and Y/N did insist on loading the dishwasher while Keanu took his turn getting ready for the day. Once that was done, Y/N took Harper into the living room and laid her in the pack-n-play, so she could stretch out and squirm while Y/N gathered together everything they needed for their outing to the bookstore. By the time Keanu emerged, the diaper bag was packed, and they were ready to go.

At the bookstore, Keanu insisted on being the one to carry Harper, securing her against his chest in the baby carrier. Y/N couldn’t stop smiling as she watched her husband browse the aisles with their daughter sleeping against him, and took out her phone and discretely captured several photos to add to her growing collection.

Y/N picked out a couple of books for herself as well, though she doubted she’d be reading them anytime soon. Most days since Harper was born, if she wasn’t taking care of the baby, she was watching her sleep or sleeping herself. Still, it was always nice to have new books on hand. Keanu found several for himself, and after they’d checked out, he asked her if there was somewhere else she wanted to go.

“Let’s just walk for a little bit? It’s not too hot and there’s lots of shade on this street. It feels good to be out of the house, and Harper seems to be enjoying her nap.” Keanu smiled down at his daughter, whose little mouth was open slightly in her sleep. He adjusted her gently and held out his hand for Y/N. They walked past their car, stowed their purchases inside, and proceeded to walk around the neighborhood, stopping for smoothies at one of their favorite juice bars, and window shopping. They’d been at it for about an hour when Y/N’s energy started to fade and she suggested they head back home. Keanu quickly agreed as he’d just spotted a photographer and didn’t want to have their day intruded on. The timing turned out to be perfect as Harper started fussing about 2 blocks from the house. Still, they’d enjoyed their short outing and considered it a success.

“Hey Reeves,” Y/N said as they pulled into the driveway. “We did it!” She grinned and held up her hand for a high five.

Keanu laughed and clapped his hand with hers, and then entwined their fingers together and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Yep, nailed it.”

He leaned in to press another kiss to her lips, before getting out of the car and retrieving Harper and her car seat from the backseat.

When they walked into the house, the cleaning service had already whipped the living room and kitchen back into order. Y/N felt her eyes suddenly fill with tears as she hugged the startled woman who was putting away the cleaning supplies.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N laughed, wiping her eyes. “I just appreciate this so much.”

Anna smiled. “I have two kids of my own. I remember what it was like. We’ve got things straightened up in here, you just take care of your little one and rest when you can.”

“Thanks, Anna.” Keanu called as she left.

Y/N took Harper from him, her fussing now escalating into outright crying. “I’ve got her. Don’t you have that meeting this afternoon that you should get ready for?”

Keanu frowned and checked the time. He had almost forgotten about the conference call with his production team about an upcoming project. He nodded. “Yes. It’s in an hour. I’ll start prepping in my office, but let me know if you need me. I can always reschedule.”  

Y/N shook her head as she gently shushed and rocked the baby. “We’re fine. Go be brilliant!” She took Harper back into the nursery to change her diaper and then settled into the rocker to nurse. Keanu waited until he heard the baby’s cries quiet down before going into his office.

Later in the afternoon, Keanu emerged to a quiet house. He checked the nursery first and, finding it empty, went into their bedroom to find Y/N and Harper curled up in the center of the bed, both napping away. Keanu smiled and settled into the deep armchair in the corner of the room, happy to be able to begin one of his new books and watch over his girls. Within minutes however, he also had fallen asleep.

[kny111]

An epidemic curve has a relatively predictable upslope and once the peak is reached, the back slope can also be predicted. We have robust data from the outbreaks in China and Italy, that shows the backside of the mortality curve declines slowly, with deaths persisting for months. Assuming we have just crested in deaths at 70k, it is possible that we lose another 70,000 people over the next 6 weeks as we come off that peak. That's what's going to happen with a lockdown.

As states reopen, and we give the virus more fuel, all bets are off. I understand the reasons for reopening the economy, but I've said before, if you don't solve the biology, the economy won't recover.

There are very few states that have demonstrated a sustained decline in numbers of new infections. Indeed, as of May 3rd the majority are still increasing and reopening. As a simple example of the USA trend, when you take out the data from New York and just look at the rest of the USA, daily case numbers are increasing. Bottom line: the only reason the total USA new case numbers look flat right now is because the New York City epidemic was so large and now it is being contained.

So throughout most of the country we are going to add fuel to the viral fire by reopening. It's going to happen if I like it or not, so my goal here is to try to guide you away from situations of high risk.

Where are people getting sick?

We know most people get infected in their own home. A household member contracts the virus in the community and brings it into the house where sustained contact between household members leads to infection.

But where are people contracting the infection in the community? I regularly hear people worrying about grocery stores, bike rides, inconsiderate runners who are not wearing masks.... are these places of concern? Well, not really. Let me explain.

In order to get infected you need to get exposed to an infectious dose of the virus; based on infectious dose studies with other coronaviruses, it appears that only small doses may be needed for infection to take hold. Some experts estimate that as few as 1000 SARS-CoV2 infectious viral particles are all that will be needed (ref 1, ref 2). Please note, this still needs to be determined experimentally, but we can use that number to demonstrate how infection can occur. Infection could occur, through 1000 infectious viral particles you receive in one breath or from one eye-rub, or 100 viral particles inhaled with each breath over 10 breaths, or 10 viral particles with 100 breaths. Each of these situations can lead to an infection.

How much Virus is released into the environment?

A Bathroom: Bathrooms have a lot of high touch surfaces, door handles, faucets, stall doors. So fomite transfer risk in this environment can be high. We still do not know whether a person releases infectious material in feces or just fragmented virus, but we do know that toilet flushing does aerosolize many droplets. Treat public bathrooms with extra caution (surface and air), until we know more about the risk.

A Cough: A single cough releases about 3,000 droplets and droplets travels at 50 miles per hour. Most droplets are large, and fall quickly (gravity), but many do stay in the air and can travel across a room in a few seconds.

A Sneeze: A single sneeze releases about 30,000 droplets, with droplets traveling at up to 200 miles per hour. Most droplets are small and travel great distances (easily across a room).

If a person is infected, the droplets in a single cough or sneeze may contain as many as 200,000,000 (two hundred million) virus particles which can all be dispersed into the environment around them.

A breath: A single breath releases 50 - 5000 droplets. Most of these droplets are low velocity and fall to the ground quickly. There are even fewer droplets released through nose-breathing. Importantly, due to the lack of exhalation force with a breath, viral particles from the lower respiratory areas are not expelled.

Unlike sneezing and coughing which release huge amounts of viral material, the respiratory droplets released from breathing only contain low levels of virus. We don't have a number for SARS-CoV2 yet, but we can use influenza as a guide. Studies have shown that a person infected with influenza can releases up to 33 infectious viral particles per minute.  But I'm going to use 20 to keep the math simple.

Remember the formula: Successful Infection = Exposure to Virus x Time

If a person coughs or sneezes, those 200,000,000 viral particles go everywhere. Some virus hangs in the air, some falls into surfaces, most falls to the ground. So if you are face-to-face with a person, having a conversation, and that person sneezes or coughs straight at you, it's pretty easy to see how it is possible to inhale 1,000 virus particles and become infected.

But even if that cough or sneeze was not directed at you, some infected droplets--the smallest of small--can hang in the air for a few minutes, filling every corner of a modest sized room with infectious viral particles. All you have to do is enter that room within a few minutes of the cough/sneeze and take a few breaths and you have potentially received enough virus to establish an infection.

But with general breathing, 20 viral particles minute into the environment, even if every virus ended up in your lungs (which is very unlikely), you would need 1000 viral particles divided by 20 per minute = 50 minutes.

Speaking increases the release of respiratory droplets about 10 fold; ~200 virus particles per minute. Again, assuming every virus is inhaled, it would take ~5 minutes of speaking face-to-face to receive the required dose.

The exposure to virus x time formula is the basis of contact tracing. Anyone you spend greater than 10 minutes with in a face-to-face situation is potentially infected. Anyone who shares a space with you (say an office) for an extended period is potentially infected. This is also why it is critical for people who are symptomatic to stay home. Your sneezes and your coughs expel so much virus that you can infect a whole room of people.

What is the role of asymptomatic people in spreading the virus?

Symptomatic people are not the only way the virus is shed. We know that at least 44% of all infections--and the majority of community-acquired transmissions--occur from people without any symptoms (asymptomatic or pre-symptomatic people). You can be shedding the virus into the environment for up to 5 days before symptoms begin.

Infectious people come in all ages, and they all shed different amounts of virus. The figure below shows that no matter your age (x-axis), you can have a little bit of virus or a lot of virus (y-axis). (ref)

The amount of virus released from an infected person changes over the course of infection and it is also different from person-to-person. Viral load generally builds up to the point where the person becomes symptomatic. So just prior to symptoms showing, you are releasing the most virus into the environment. Interestingly, the data shows that just 20% of infected people are responsible for 99% of viral load that could potentially be released into the environment (ref)

So now let’s get to the crux of it. Where are the personal dangers from reopening?  

When you think of outbreak clusters, what are the big ones that come to mind? Most people would say cruise ships. But you would be wrong. Ship outbreaks, while concerning, don’t land in the top 50 outbreaks to date.

Ignoring the terrible outbreaks in nursing homes, we find that the biggest outbreaks are in prisons, religious ceremonies, and workplaces, such as meat packing facilities and call centers. Any environment that is enclosed, with poor air circulation and high density of people, spells trouble.

Some of the biggest super-spreading events are:

Meat packing: In meat processing plants, densely packed workers must communicate to one another amidst the deafening drum of industrial machinery and a cold-room virus-preserving environment. There are now outbreaks in 115 facilities across 23 states, 5000+ workers infected, with 20 dead. (ref)

Weddings, funerals, birthdays: 10% of early spreading events

Business networking: Face-to-face business networking like the Biogen Conference in Boston in late February.

As we move back to work, or go to a restaurant, let’s look at what can happen in those environments.

Restaurants: Some really great shoe-leather epidemiology demonstrated clearly the effect of a single asymptomatic carrier in a restaurant environment (see below). The infected person (A1) sat at a table and had dinner with 9 friends. Dinner took about 1 to 1.5 hours. During this meal, the asymptomatic carrier released low-levels of virus into the air from their breathing. Airflow (from the restaurant's various airflow vents) was from right to left. Approximately 50% of the people at the infected person's table became sick over the next 7 days. 75% of the people on the adjacent downwind table became infected. And even 2 of the 7 people on the upwind table were infected (believed to happen by turbulent airflow). No one at tables E or F became infected, they were out of the main airflow from the air conditioner on the right to the exhaust fan on the left of the room. (Ref)

Workplaces: Another great example is the outbreak in a call center (see below). A single infected employee came to work on the 11th floor of a building. That floor had 216 employees. Over the period of a week, 94 of those people became infected (43.5%: the blue chairs). 92 of those 94 people became sick (only 2 remained asymptomatic). Notice how one side of the office is primarily infected, while there are very few people infected on the other side.  While exact number of people infected by respiratory droplets / respiratory exposure versus fomite transmission (door handles, shared water coolers, elevator buttons etc.) is unknown. It serves to highlight that being in an enclosed space, sharing the same air for a prolonged period increases your chances of exposure and infection.  Another 3 people on other floors of the building were infected, but the authors were not able to trace the infection to the primary cluster on the 11th floor. Interestingly, even though there were considerable interaction between workers on different floors of the building in elevators and the lobby, the outbreak was mostly limited to a single floor (ref). This highlights the importance of exposure and time in the spreading of SARS-CoV2.

Choir: The community choir in Washington State. Even though people were aware of the virus and took steps to minimize transfer; e.g. they avoided the usual handshakes and hugs hello, people also brought their own music to avoid sharing, and socially distanced themselves during practice. They even went to the lengths to tell choir members prior to practice that anyone experiencing symptoms should stay home.  A single asymptomatic carrier infected most of the people in attendance. The choir sang for 2 1/2 hours, inside an enclosed rehearsal hall which was roughly the size of a volleyball court.

Singing, to a greater degree than talking, aerosolizes respiratory droplets extraordinarily well. Deep-breathing while singing facilitated those respiratory droplets getting deep into the lungs. Two and half hours of exposure ensured that people were exposed to enough virus over a long enough period of time for infection to take place. Over a period of 4 days, 45 of the 60 choir members developed symptoms, 2 died. The youngest infected was 31, but they averaged 67 years old. (corrected link)

Indoor sports: While this may be uniquely Canadian, a super spreading event occurred during a curling event in Canada. A curling event with 72 attendees became another hotspot for transmission. Curling brings contestants and teammates in close contact in a cool indoor environment, with heavy breathing for an extended period. This tournament resulted in 24 of the 72 people becoming infected. (ref)

Birthday parties / funerals: Just to see how simple infection-chains can be, this is a real story from Chicago. The name is fake. Bob was infected but didn't know. Bob shared a takeout meal, served from common serving dishes, with 2 family members. The dinner lasted 3 hours. The next day, Bob attended a funeral, hugging family members and others in attendance to express condolences. Within 4 days, both family members who shared the meal are sick. A third family member, who hugged Bob at the funeral became sick. But Bob wasn't done. Bob attended a birthday party with 9 other people. They hugged and shared food at the 3 hour party. Seven of those people became ill.

But Bob’s transmission chain wasn’t done. Three of the people Bob infected at the birthday went to church, where they sang, passed the tithing dish etc. Members of that church became sick. In all, Bob was directly responsible for infecting 16 people between the ages of 5 and 86. Three of those 16 died.

The spread of the virus within the household and back out into the community through funerals, birthdays, and church gatherings is believed to be responsible for the broader transmission of COVID-19 in Chicago. (ref)

Sobering right?

Commonality of outbreaks

The reason to highlight these different outbreaks is to show you the commonality of outbreaks of COVID-19. All these infection events were indoors, with people closely-spaced, with lots of talking, singing, or yelling. The main sources for infection are home, workplace, public transport, social gatherings, and restaurants. This accounts for 90% of all transmission events. In contrast, outbreaks spread from shopping appear to be responsible for a small percentage of traced infections. (Ref)

Importantly, of the countries performing contact tracing properly, only a single outbreak has been reported from an outdoor environment (less than 0.3% of traced infections). (ref)

So back to the original thought of my post.

Indoor spaces, with limited air exchange or recycled air and lots of people, are concerning from a transmission standpoint. We know that 60 people in a volleyball court-sized room (choir) results in massive infections. Same situation with the restaurant and the call center.  Social distancing guidelines don't hold in indoor spaces where you spend a lot of time, as people on the opposite side of the room were infected.  

The principle is viral exposure over an extended period of time. In all these cases, people were exposed to the virus in the air for a prolonged period (hours). Even if they were 50 feet away (choir or call center), even a low dose of the virus in the air reaching them, over a sustained period, was enough to cause infection and in some cases, death.

Social distancing rules are really to protect you with brief exposures or outdoor exposures. In these situations there is not enough time to achieve the infectious viral load when you are standing 6 feet apart or where wind and the infinite outdoor space for viral dilution reduces viral load. The effects of sunlight, heat, and humidity on viral survival, all serve to minimize the risk to everyone when outside.

When assessing the risk of infection (via respiration) at the grocery store or mall, you need to consider the volume of the air space (very large), the number of people (restricted), how long people are spending in the store (workers - all day; customers - an hour). Taken together, for a person shopping: the low density, high air volume of the store, along with the restricted time you spend in the store, means that the opportunity to receive an infectious dose is low. But, for the store worker, the extended time they spend in the store provides a greater opportunity to receive the infectious dose and therefore the job becomes more risky.

Basically, as the work closures are loosened, and we start to venture out more, possibly even resuming in-office activities, you need to look at your environment and make judgments. How many people are here, how much airflow is there around me, and how long will I be in this environment. If you are in an open floorplan office, you really need to critically assess the risk (volume, people, and airflow). If you are in a job that requires face-to-face talking or even worse, yelling, you need to assess the risk.

If you are sitting in a well ventilated space, with few people, the risk is low.

If I am outside, and I walk past someone, remember it is “dose and time” needed for infection. You would have to be in their airstream for 5+ minutes for a chance of infection.  While joggers may be releasing more virus due to deep breathing, remember the exposure time is also less due to their speed. Please do maintain physical distance, but the risk of infection in these scenarios are low. Here is a great article in Vox that discusses the low risk of running and cycling in detail.  

While I have focused on respiratory exposure here, please don't forget surfaces. Those infected respiratory droplets land somewhere. Wash your hands often and stop touching your face!

For The Full article with the helpful illustrations and charts visit:  The Risks - Know Them - Avoid Them by Erin Bromage