#i am not about to drive four hours home just to get my record player

[brokenhe4ds]

harrison patrick ‘the dare’ smith, please can you add the what’s wrong with new york? cds back to your website, i do not have my record player in my new flat thanks😋

[joe9cool]

So Good-Joel Farabee- 3

A/N. This is fanfiction, I only own my characters. I do not know or affiliate with anyone on the Flyers. You also do not have permission to post my story anywhere

March 2023

Joel had unsuccessfully managed to avoid Claire after Christmas. She didn’t make it easy one bit.

The teams record was terrible, and while he was doing okay he did feel pain. Maybe he shouldn't have rushed It back. 

He was invited to more team events. Any of them that involved Sean and Laurence Claire was sure to be in attendance. Even though he tried to just keep it to a simple “hi” they always gravitated towards each other, whether it was running into each other, or just somehow getting involved in another conversation that turned into them two geeking out over liking the same thing. 

It was becoming noticeable to everyone the torch Joel carried for her. So much so that Morgan was teasing him one night, and Joel was trying to sweep it under the rug.

“ She is just cool to talk to. I have no interest in her, if anything I just think It's weird that she Is at all of these team events.” He told Morgan in their hotel room while they were on the road. “Like is she purposely Trying to bag an NHL player?”

“Well Scott said she's been around the team since she was a teen. So the older guys looked at her like a sibling. However, the younger core like us? They have been trying.”

Joel nodded, feeling bad about shit talking the girl he was obsessing over. He finally had the nerve to request her on Instagram and she had accepted within the hour. Joel had scrolled through all of her photos, dating back since her high school days. 

He might have even accidentally liked and unliked a few. 

Her recent photos were from Flyers games, her schoolwork, friends and of course that douche she called a boyfriend. Luke was tagged in her photos but his profile was set to private, and he didn’t really care to be following him.

Joel learned alot about her and her life. She was very athletic, obviously playing hockey. But he didn’t know that she was a good player, even almost making the Canadian Women’s Olympic team. She got a full ride to Princeton which meant she was a fucking genius. 

Despite their four year age difference, they had a lot in common with music tastes, hobbies, jokes. Joel had her in stitches the first night, and her laugh was like scoring a overtime goal.

Even though he did everything possible to avoid her, she was still in the back of his mind like the drills he ran through on the ice. He wondered what she was doing, and was she happy? Though she expressed her emotions on Christmas her social media painted a different picture with her stories of her and Luke on vacation during spring break. She looked beautiful, and appeared to be happy. 

He couldn’t watch the rest of them.

Joel was driving to the rink when the radio, set to whatever station he left it on was playing Halsey and for some reason he paid attention to the lyrics

Talking wildly out of context

I wish things were different

But I’ll never know

When you left I bet you held her body closer

And I was hoping you would tell her it was over

you’re all I think about and everywhere I look

I know its bad, but we could be so good.

Joel found himself singing the lyrics, and picturing him and Claire. Until he realized he was stalling at a green light, and the blare of a car horn startled him.

“Fuck this song” He muttered, embarrased despite no one else being in the car. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fancy seeing you here!” Claire looked up from her laptop from her private booth to smile at the hockey player. “Ha! I knew you were a starbucks fan, but who would have thought that out of the million ones in the city you visit the one I like to work at.”

Joel smiled. “You live in Haddonfield, why are you in Philly?” 

“I work at Temple, I am hybrid,I was working from home but my mother was off and thinks that I am doing nothing on my laptop so she kept trying to bug me about helping her with a new recipe for the restaurant. Which is fine, if I didn’t have students coming to my virtual office hours to discuss the last exam before the final” She shook her head. “God now I know the hell I put my TA’s in school when I was in undergrad.”

He laughed “Scratching the back of his head. “Yeah I definitely sent some panic emails about missing an assignment when I was in school”

“Are you busy?” He shook his head. “You want to join me?” I have one more meeting and then I just have to grade essays, but I have been here since 7am and I could use some companionship, if you don’t mind?”

Every fiber in Joel’s body screamed that it was a bad idea and that he should make up some excuse to escape, but of course he did the very thing that got him in trouble time and time again. “I’d love to join you.” He sat in the both across from her and sat his coffee down amongst all of the paperwork. “So you have a Bachelors in Psych from Princeton, and your Masters is from Temple correct?”

She nodded as she took a sip from her Coffee. “Yep. My Masters specializes in abnormal psychology. I research on how childhood trauma and the correlation of Mental disorders as an adult.”

Joel was Impressed. “Yeah I don't know anything about that.” He confessed And she laughed. “Does that mean you analyze every single thing about people and their childhoods?”

“At first I did,but I learned to shut that part of my brain off when I'm not working. I'm going to be a professor, not a psychologist.” She paused. “I was actually looking at research coordinator positions at the local hospital.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You just said you wanted to be a professor.”

“Yeah, but it takes a while, and student teaching doesn't really help pay my portion of the bills, and Luke thinks research is more stable.

“but you are in your PhD Courses? And he only has a bachelors” Joel thought about it. “I shouldn't even be talking. I took like a half of semester of courses”

“Boston College is a good school and you got in. I didn't even get in.”

“Only because of hockey.”  He admitted. “I'm not the smartest guy.”

“Everyone is smart in some way. You're hockey smart, I'm smart in psychology. Luke is smart in finances and excel sheets. Me? I can't even do a basic cell function or whatever it's called. Luke always makes Fun of me.”

Joel internally groaned at the mention of that douche's name “He sure seems fun to be around.”

Claire smiled. “He Is. He Is just stressed about work and all that, but he has tons of hobbies. Luke loves music and playing guitar. In fact, my office he wants to turn it into his guy hangout slash music room”

“Well where would your office be?” She shrugged. “probably in the basement”

Did she hear herself? Joel wondered. she continued. “We are going to Mexico next week while I'm on spring break. So it will be nice to get away and not think about work. But I gotta get these exams graded and into Blackboard.” 

She pulled out a stack of papers. “Unfortunately my mentor doesn't believe in scantrons. so I'm probably gonna be here for a while.”

“Want some help?” He volunteered. “I mean as long as you have a key I can refer to seeing as the test looks multiple choice.”

She smiled. “there's two essay questions. You can do the multiple choice and I will do the essay part.”

For the next hour Joel graded the tests. He had to admit, he was learning alot about Clinical psychology and how the brain worked. There were anatomy based questions and he kept asking Claire about certain topics. She had a natural ability to teach. She was patient and understanding, and happy to go over things he couldn't grasp.

“You know you had asked me in high school what I wanted to be a teacher would be the last thing on my mind.” She laughed.

“What did you want to be?” She thought about it. “Honestly I thought maybe I would be a doctor in sports medicine. But I wanted to play hockey, and unfortunately the women's league didn't develop until I was well into college.”

“Why didn't you just do pre Med?” Joel asked. She shrugged. “Well I fell in love with psychology and I loved to tutor others, plus I'm not gonna lie, I got used to summers off to go home and visit family in Canada.”

“Ahhh” Joel nodded. He couldn't imagine working a 9-5 during summers. “Yeah my mom's a nurse, and summers were her busiest months. I don't blame you.”

“My mom wanted me to be a nurse. I said no way. I admire your mom.” Claire smiled and once again his heart soared.

Once again he knew..

He was royally, totally fucked

—----------‐—--------------------------------------------

“Hey babe. How was work?” Claire smiled as she came in the door to her and Luke's home. Lugging in a bunch of groceries for tonight's dinner. Luke was at the kitchen counter and barely looked up from his phone. “It was good. Sellers closed the deal on a major account. So I'll get a nice bonus for Mexico next month. By the way, you still need to zelle me your portion.”

She nodded. “I know, I just paid my car note and Insurance and my half of the bills.”

“I get that, but I'm not made of money here.” Claire rolled her eyes. Luke made three times her salary and was able to purchase a house while she was barely scraping by. Of course she couldn't tell him that because he would only say ‘well you should have majored in something more useful’

“Says the guy who just bought a custom car” She muttered under her breath. Luke didn't catch the insult due to still being on his phone. 

“Can you help me put the groceries away?” She heard laughter and turned to face her boyfriend “What's funny?”

He finally looked up. “What? Oh it's just my coworker sending me a meme.”

“What's the meme?”  He brushed it off. “It's office talk. Come on, I'll help you unpack.”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter as Claire saw Luke become the person she fell in love with almost six years ago. She understood that someone couldn't be perfect one hundred percent of the time, she just wished he could see that things could be great if he wasn't so wrapped up in the pressures of having a high powered job. If he could only take a break and reset, then they could work on their relationship and be on the right track.

She just hoped that he saw that when they went to Mexico 

—------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey hey hey!” Claire smiled and greeted everyone as she took her seat in the suite. 

Today was opening day for the Phillies and Joel, being a big fan, had sent out a massive group text To everyone inviting them to the suite he rented out. Joel texted Her separately saying she can invite Luke and some friends.

It was sweet, And Claire appreciated it. She wasn't stupid, she knew the younger man had a crush On her. It was innocent, and he had never pushed it on her. It was very cute, and him being a hockey player he would get over it as soon as he found someone else.

She had asked Luke, which in turn he had brought along his friend Michael and his girlfriend Ashley. 

As Claire was talking to Laurence and bouncing a crabby Ella in her arms she looked over to see Joel stealing glances at her. She smiled and he began to blush. 

Laurence saw the entire exchange and held in a chuckle. Sean had told her about The barbecue last year and how Joel was very hung up on Claire, and she certainly noticed how Joel was attached to her friend's side at the Christmas Party.

It was a harmless little crush, one that she and Claire had laughed off during a girls night. Her best friend was always a pretty girl, and always had guys into her. Once she became an adult it was no secret that some of her husband's younger teammates had tried their luck. But Claire swore she would never cause an awkward situation for Sean. 

Then she had met Luke, who at first Laurence thought he was a nice guy, and Claire had described him as such. Truth be told, everyone thought they were going to be married. But it was obvious something had Shifted that it may not be in the cards. When the topic of marriage had come up Luke was way too eager to  change topics. 

Then there was the buying of lavish things. Sure he had bought The home and Claire moved in. But that was about it, and he just kept adding more and more gadgets.

last summer when Chloe and Scott got married. Chloe had the bouquet toss and when Claire had caught it, Luke had run off and while everyone was laughing, Laurence had seen the pain in her friends eyes.

—-------------------‐—------------------------------------------

“Dude, who is that by Claire?” Luke looked up from his plate to see his girlfriend standing and talking with one of the hockey players.. Justin? Joe? He turned to face his friend and his girlfriend. “I don’t know his name, he is Sean’s teammate, I think he is the one who got the suite for all of us.”

Michael huffed. “Yeah and it looks like he didn’t want anyone here but her.”

Luke snorted, taking a sip of his beer. “He fucking wishes. Dude looks like he can't even lift a chick weight.”

Michael shrugged. “I'm just saying, Claire is stunning and a cool girl.”

“So? He can pull out the moves all he wants. She's going nowhere.”

All of the sudden the topic of conversation came Over. “Who's going nowhere?” She looked between both men

Luke was Quick. “This bitch at our office.”

“What makes her a bitch?” Claire immediately got defensive, not liking guys referring To a woman as a bitch”

Luke shrugged. “She's just a moron, and is not nice. Not everything has to be a social justice warrior argument dear” He spoke condescendingly.

��Okay well your attitude isn't needed” Claire equipped. Then she looked at Michael. “Oh I almost forgot to show you the new tattoo Noah did on my thigh.”

“Oh shit yeah! Did he get my design?” She nodded. “Yeah I stopped by the studio Yesterday and he was drawing It up.”

“You know Claire. I wish you would stop getting tattoos. It looks trashy.” Luke Interfered. Claire frowned. “I only have three. And you have a tattoo!”

“Yeah, one that is meaningful. You just get them to get them. When we go out to dinner with my boss I don't think he'd be too keen on seeing them. He's a classy man.”

“And I'm not a classy person because I have tats?” She raised her voice and Luke looked around. “We will discuss it later. Right now you're making a scene” 

She took a deep breath, feeling eyes on her. “You're right. But this isn't Over” She cautioned Her boyfriend and walked away. 

the Phillies scored a home run, and everyone's attention was now on the field.

However, one pair of eyes never Left Claire.

[truglori]

Sneaky Link 🔗

Synopsis: Black Reader and Eric find each other online!

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Black Reader

Warning: Language, Smutt, Raw sex

Flopping on the bed Y/N found herself bored for the fourth Friday night in a row. This was supposed to be the season of hook ups and living her best carefree lifestyle that she had planned out but yet is was the exact opposite. Being on summer break from college Y/N had to come back home with the schools being closed. It was something she dreaded.

Home for her wasn’t the best place to be. Between her judgmental and nagging parents and older brother, Chris, Y/N was ecstatic when she discovered that she would be going to a school that was over three hundred miles away. Being four hours away gave her enough freedom knowing that she didn’t have any one breathing down her neck or snitching to her parents about whatever she did. With it only being her sophomore year Y/N loved the college lifestyle.

Getting up she went to her window to open it and put in her square fan. Her air conditioner that she always kept in her room was now being used by her brother so she had to settle for this. Turning the knob she felt the warm cool breeze coming through and taking up the room. Walking back to her bed she logged into her laptop going onto the web browser. Clicking the history she found the website she was searching for and tapped it.

Quick Link popped up on her screen. It was a site that allowed people to meet and chat with other people. Even though Y/N has been going on it for weeks now back and forth, she never met one person that she has chatted with yet. She was okay with talking to them online and even over the phone but the thought of seeing them in person scared her. With all of the Lifetime movies and ID channel she would watch, doing something as small as meeting up with them could be dangerous.

Y/N scrolled through her recent messages. She had over ninety-nine notifications. She knew that she wasn’t going to reply to them all, only the once she found cute. It was like a broken record being played. They all inbox her with the same messages, hey sexy! Y/N rolled eyes at the un-originality. To her it seem like the guys didn’t even try to put in any effort.

Tapping on the keyboard she began to text back the handful that she found attractive when she got two notifications. Hurrying up her sentence she exited out of the chat and clicking on her new direct messages.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Y/N, what in the hell is yo ass doing on this shit...10:35pm

HandsomeAssNigga👅- And I know you still online. I can see the green bubble by ya picture...10:36pm

Y/N squinted at the name. Who the hell was this texting her like they knew her? The question alone made her stomach flutter at the idea of getting caught on a dating site by someone she knew or knew her. Clearly this person recognized her enough to boldly message her. Clicking on their username she went to their page. Her heart stopped and thighs clenched at the same time.

It was Erik fucking Stevens aka her brother’s childhood best friend. Chris and Erik were the same age and only three years older than Y/N. Growing up Y/N stayed crushing on Erik. It was his braids that he rocked back in the day that had her drooling over him but also how nice he was to her. Y/N remembered the time when she was a freshman in high school and Chris and Erik were both Juniors she would always get a ride with them every morning in his 2005 Honda Accord. He would steal glances at her through his rear view mirror that only she would catch but to afraid to ask him about it.

There would be times that she would find underwear from a girl tucked under the backseat. Y/N heard about the rumored that went around the school that Erik was a player. An experienced one at that. He was grown before his time and with the way the lucky girls who had a chance to sleep with him describe it, he gave dick like he was a grown man as well.

Hearing that did nothing but spark the flame that she felt about him. She wanted to experience it herself. But being the quiet and timid person she was then, she never did. It wasn’t until Y/N went to college where she lost her virginity her freshman and started having sex on the regular with her ex who was also her first. From the first few times they did it, she could never cum from penetration. Y/N thought it was normal and that every girl dealt with it until she shared a few stories with her friends and they would tell her about the way their guys would make them squirt.

Squirting was something Y/N always wanted to do but could never achieve with her guy. She loved feeling him inside of her stretching her open but he was a quick pumper. He came too fast for her and couldn’t last long enough to get her to nut. So after every session she would take her bullet and tortured her clit until she felt her cream escaping her hole. Not having sex since the last time she was at school had Y/N body extremely horny and hot and ready like a little ceasars pizza.

Clicking through his pictures had her clenching her thighs. After he graduated high school, the graduation was the last place she seen Erik. She wasn’t even sure if Chris and him were still close friends. But what she could say is that he grew up very nice. He now had dreads that hung over his eyes with a clean shape up to top it off. His teeth pearly and white accompanied by gold canines he was wearing in every other picture and last but not least his body was everything. Standing at 6’3 and looking like a solid 215 from her view Erik was fine as fuck.

Giggling and embarrassed with herself she replied back.

BlackBeauty- Erik omg...this is so embarrassing. How did you find me?...10:40pm

Biting the nail on her thumb she waited for him to answer her. To her surprise he wrote back fairly faster than what she expected.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Noticed yo little ass on the explore page. I know you not on here meeting with these wack ass niggas...10:42pm

She laughed re-reading his message. To her it sound like it was possessive but she didn’t want to over think it.

BlackBeauty- Never!! I am not stupid. I haven’t met one person yet...10:44pm

Hitting the send button she rolled her eyes noticing herself getting desperate from his attention.

HandsomeAssNigga👅-Okay bet! I don’t wanna have to fuck you up youngin 😈...10:47pm

Biting her lip, she stared down the emoji. She wondered what that meant. She wondered in what way did he meant when he said he would fuck her up. At this point Y/N was dripping between her thick thighs.

BlackBeauty- What about you? I know you out here fucking these bitches you meet on here. Don’t lie lol...10:49pm

Y/N didn’t want to seem nosy, she was just trying to make conversation.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Damn you cuss now? And second of all don’t be worried about what I do with my dick. I’m grown and that’s different...10:51pm

Bringing a hand down to her covered pussy Y/N caressed it. The warmth coming through her panties and cotton shorts. She didn’t know what it was but the way he was responding had her feeling a type of way. She wasn’t the shy young girl anymore he used to know and she wanted to make that clear.

BlackBeauty- I’m grown too Erik 💦...10:53pm

Her heart beat sped up when she sent the text not knowing how he was going to respond.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- To who? I know ya young ass ain’t out here fuckin yet. You was too shy for that last time I saw you. Even if you was, I know you ain’t getting know real dick...10:55pm

HandsomeAssNigga👅- What’s that emoji supposed to represent? Ya pussy or sum shit? Let me find out Y/N 👿...10:56pm

There goes that little devil that had her questioning herself again.

BlackBeauty- I get dick on the regular. Good dick! And yes Erik that emoji reps my pussy. Same young pussy that’ll be too wet for you to handle! I’ll have you drownin in my shit...10:59pm

Y/N could always talk a good game online. It was where she could be get as nasty as she wanted without actually putting in work. The guys who would hit her up loved her foreplay that she had spit over the internet and she was fortunate enough where they never pressed her to meet in person.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Bring that pussy here and I’ma show you if I’ll drown in it. Stop fucking playing with me Y/N if you not gonna pull up. I don’t do this back and forth teasing shit. You tryna do a Sneaky Link or what?...11:02pm

Checking the hall Y/N seen that the lights were off. Her parents were most likely sleeping and Chris always worked Friday nights. This was the perfect time and opportunity to leave. She would have to sneak the keys from the key holder and use her dad’s car to get to his place. Y/N didn’t do this on the regular but because it was Erik she was curious. She wanted to see for herself if all of the rumors were true. Y/N was going to fuck him tonight.

BlackBeauty- Send me the addy..I’m on my way...11:04pm

________

After showering and preparing for her dick appointment Y/N successfully snuck out of the house. She put his address in her GPS. It was a twenty minute drive to get to his apartment. Putting the car in park and turning it off, Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach grow while walking into the building. Taking her phone out she went to his message and looking up the apartment number he gave her. Apartment 3B.

Knocking on the door. She held her hands together tightly. She was beyond nervous and rethinking her decision as her heart kept thumping. She couldn’t believe that she was really going to go through this. After so many years of fantasizing about him in her room she was finally going to see the real thing. Y/N only wondered if it was as good as she hoped.

The door swung open showing Erik sipping on a glass of dark liquor. In nothing but a tight wife beater that clung to his chest and his sweats that hung low Y/N could see the print poking through so visibly. It looked like he was free balling it.

“Damn ma. You wasn’t lying about getting grown. You look good as shit.” Erik sipped from his glass. He stepped aside inviting her in.

Y/N smiled softly going inside. She only took a few steps in and stood to the side waiting for him. She heard the door lock behind her as it caused her to gulp hard on her spit.

Erik eyed her with his low eyes. He chuckled seeing that she was clearly nervous.

“So that’s ya thing?” His voice was low and deeper than what she remembered.

“What’s my thing?” Her soft voice speaking up.

“Talking shit online but quiet it person.” He stated putting her on the spot.

Y/N smacked her lips and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She turned facing his livingroom.

“Nah ain’t no whatever. What’s good ma? Where that big girl energy go?” He walked up behind her pressing his body into hers. The hand that wasn’t holding his cup wrapped around her waist gripping the small pudge on her stomach.

Y/N shivered when she felt his dick on her ass. Her assumption was right. He wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath his sweats. She could feel the coldness of his chains on her shoulder when he leaned on her due to her only wearing a tank top. She grabbed his hand, not pushing him away but holding on to him.

“I’m here aren’t I?” She gazed at him over her shoulder.

He smirked at her smart remark. “You need anything before we start? A drink, blunt, something to help you calm ya scary ass down.” He teased.

She pushed his hand from around her waist and folded her arms. “I’m not scary Erik. If I was I wouldn’t be here.”

“Then why you barely saying shit?” He licked his lips.

Y/N shrugged. “It’s just been a while since I saw you. You look...different.” Playing with her diamond earning, she occupied her fingers.

“I may look different but I’m still the same Erik that used to jack ya brother up every time he fucked with you when no one was looking. Ain’t shit changed about me ma so you can relax. I’m tryna take care of you tonight.” He spoke stepping closer.

They were now face to face. Y/N’s frame staring up into his 6’3 one. When she would inhale she could smell his expensive cologne mix with the Hennessy he’s been sipping on since she got here.

“Okay.” She answered with a bite of her bottom lip.

Erik groaned at the action. Both of his hands behind his back now, he bent down to her level to meet her halfway. “C’mere.” He demanded a kiss with messy dreads hanging over his eyes.

Meeting him where he was, Y/N listened giving him one. The taste of the dark liquor transferring over to her taste buds from his tongue invading her mouth. The warmth of it made her melt under him and causing her head to lean back. She was already growing weak just from the kiss.

Erik reached behind her slapping her ass and gripping it with his free hand. “Fuck you doing all that for and I ain’t even do shit yet.” He spoke against her lips peaking through his eyelids.

“Hurry up then daddyy.” Y/N whined.

“That’s my name for the night? I like that shit.” He walked them backwards until they reached his room which wasn’t far away from the front.

Placing his glass down on his dresser he lifted her up by her thighs, picking her up. Y/N squealed from the unexpected action. She held onto his neck hoping he wouldn’t drop her. Erik chuckled playing with her ass cheeks before laying her down on the bed gently.

“You sucked dick before...miss grown?” Bringing his hand down, he massaged his print through his sweats.

Leaning up on the palm of her hands, Y/N nodded answering yes. She did it plenty of times with her ex, who she could make cum quickly off of head alone but the way Erik was grabbing his tool made her think differently.

“So what’s up then? Come show me what that mouth do?”

Kicking off her sandals Y/N got off the bed. His eyes stayed glued to her. Getting on her knees in front of him she tugged the sides of the grey sweats and pulled them down to his mid thigh. His dick sprung out almost hitting her in the face had she been centimeters closer.

Long and thick was what it was. A beautiful smooth brown texture covered his heavy package. Y/N felt her mouth watered thinking about how her cream and juices would look being all over it. This man was truly blessed and so far proving the rumors to be true.

Erik twisted his hips side to side wagging it in front of her. He lifted the wife beater up and tucked it under his chin so that he can get a good view.

Grabbing the base of his length Y/N eyed it. She was trying to figure out ways to be able to swallow this monster without choking. Sticking her tongue out she tapped his tip against it. A string from her saliva on her tongue being attached to his head every time they separated. With her prior experience and watching porn she grew to have her own technique.

Y/N allowed the spit to build up in her mouth when she sucked on his tip. No nigga likes dry head and she wasn’t going to start giving it today. She wanted it to be extra sloppy for Erik. Tightening her jaws she went up and down on his dick. Taking only about four inches of him and using her spit to stroke the rest of him. With just the little bit of his length she was able to take she could already feel him reaching her back.

“Fuck that throat feel good. Shitt!” Erik groaned gripping her tight kinky curls and putting them into a ponytail. He tilted his head watching her go stupid on his dick. He sucked in his lower lip when she began to swivel her head around.

Long drips of spit went falling down on her black tank top. Erik’s eyebrows scrunched up the moment he felt her take his balls in her mouth and suck on them lightly while stroking his tip. His stomach started to tighten and his toes dug into his carpet. This girl was trying to take his soul the way she sucking him up.

“Man whatchu doing Y/N?” Erik asked amazed, closing his eyes for a second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had head this good.

“I’m showing you that I’m grown daddy.” She answered coming up.

Now both of her hands were focused on playing with his balls while she sucked his tip and some of the few inches she was able to reach. Her eyes stared into his not stopping at all. She had him right where she wanted him. She could tell from the way his breathing sped up that he was getting weak and ready to bust a nut. Y/N tightened her suction to make it happen when she felt him pull her off by her hair.

Erik took one hand gripping her spit covered chin and tilted her head up to look at him. “Fuck is you doing sucking my dick like that ma? You tryna make me hold you hostage for the whole night?” He asked seriously.

Y/N giggled. “I just wanna make you cum Daddy.” She reached for his tip and gripped it making him jerk forward.

Erik smacked his lips annoyed that she had him feeling like sensitive. “Chill with that. Let me fuck you first before you suck this nut out.”

Helping her up and placing her back on the bed Erik slide off her biker shorts tossing them somewhere. Underneath them she had on some cotton hipster panties with little rainbows spreaded everywhere. Erik laughed when he seen it.

“Why you wearing shit like this ma?” He teased stepping out of his pants and getting on the bed.

“Because it’s cute. Why you worried about what I’m wearing instead of taking them off?” Y/N mocked his question.

Erik smirked bringing his hand up to the piece of cloth and ripping them straight down the middle and threw them on the ground. A gasp left Y/N lips as she was shocked from him doing that. Slapping his forearm, her lips went into a pout becoming upset.

“Erik, I just brought those two weeks ago.” She smacked the hand that was rubbing her thigh.

“You said to take them off. My bad. That’s the way I usually do it.” He lifted her legs by the back of her thighs while he consoled her as a distraction.

Y/N was frustrated at the fact that he ripped her new panties but also that she wasn’t going to have any to wear back home after this link.

“I don’t care how you do it, you shouldn’t have- ohh shiitt!” Her rant was cut off with the sound of moans leaving her mouth.

Holding her legs by the back of her knees Y/N glanced down to see Erik flicking her clit. The tip of his tongue felt wet and firm, in a good way. She really started to feel it when he took one hand and spread her phat pussy lips. Now her clit was out in the open and more accessible. Erik’s eyes met hers through his dreads when his lips wrapped around her bud and began to suck.

“Mm fuck...daddyy!” The sensation had Y/N’s hips thrusting to meet his vacuum like suction. So powerful and wet.

“I want you to cum on this fuckin tongue!” His words were muffled by the lips of her pussy surrounding his but it was enough to reach her ears. Taking a hand he smacked her outer thigh making his demand clear.

Her warm and slick juices ran out of her opening. It was something about the way he commanded her to nut that made her wetter and willing. Y/N liked to be dominated. Lifting up the tank top and pulling it up to her chest she tweaked and flipped her nipples adding to the stimulation. For her the feeling of having her nipples played with while getting her pussy ate made her orgasm a hundred times better.

“Eat this fucking pussy b-babyy-“ She whimpered feeling a tear slide down the corner of her eye.

Even though he noticed it, Erik didn’t stop. The juices that he caught in his mouth made it hard. He loved a good tasting ass pussy. Y/N definitely had one. Moving his assault from her clit he put his tongue in her tight opening. He began to fuck her with it. Erik put his hands under her ass cheeks and got a good cuff before bringing her back and forth on his stiff tongue. With the way her legs were still in the air he could see Y/N toes curl the second he started the action. She began leaking so quickly. Erik chuckled inwardly when he felt her walls squeezing on him.

“Mhm.” He moaned teasing her.

Y/N was cumming from the second time just off of his mouth alone. She reached down to rub her clit while he stuck his tongue deep inside her. She ain’t never got head this good before back at college. Her thighs began to shake as she felt another mini orgasm hit. Her pussy growing sensitive and overstimulated.

Grabbing his dreads she lifted his head up. “Daddy you was eating my pussy so good. Fuckk!” She moaned with a quiver in her voice.

“Now I’m bout to beat this pussy up real good too. Turn around. I want that ass from the back.” Erik barked getting on his knees.

Swiftly taking off her tank top, Y/N turned around like he said and got on all fours. She felt a firm smack to her right ass cheek. Moaning she rocked back and forth and twerked each cheek individually. Y/N looked over her shoulder behind her seeing Erik watching her move it so effortlessly. His hands went up to her waist and pulled her closer to him. Now she could feel her mound rubbing against his bare hard rock hard stick.

“Doing all this ass shaking, you better not try to run from the dick. I don’t want none of that.” He gripped a cheek spreading it watching her pussy lips follow.

“I’m not gon run daddy..I promise.” She reassured him softly.

Erik gripped the base of his length. Smacking it against her her clit he played with it for a while to warm her up. When he heard her moaning and seen her backing up against him he knew she was ready. Erik sent a drip of spit on the tip of his dick and rubbed it over it with a free hand. He teasingly dipped in and out of her tight hole. Y/N pussy was tight as fuck and he knew he had to work his way in. Getting deeper and deeper with each inch her warm wet walls clung on to him.

“Ooh fuck!” Y/N eyes closed not expecting him to feel like this. Erik was stretching her pussy out. Her arms sprawled out in front of her gripping his sheets.

“Tight ass pussy you got. What happened to getting dick on the regular? Hmm?” Holding her down by the small of her back Erik made her arch deeper as he stroked her slick walls.

Y/N’s mouth couldn’t close or make a sound. From the position he had her in she couldn’t move or run if she wanted to. Pinned down and made to take it. Erik was dicking her down. His heavy fat dick busting her pussy open and touching her stomach. Fuck that. He was putting it in her chest. Y/N reached behind her to hold on to his wrist while he pounded her pussy with precision. Her face smashed into the bed. His dick was too good for her.

“Ooh baby... Daddy don’t fuck me like this!” She shouted not knowing what she was saying. Y/N didn’t want him to stop but she couldn’t handle the pressure he was putting on her bladder.

Erik didn’t have just a big dick that could stretch a pussy out. He knew how to fuck with it. When he stroked he didn’t use his whole body he worked his hips and that’s what drove bitches crazy about him. Erik would fuck like he was trying to make a baby.

“I thought you came here to get fucked?” He asked lifting off her. He bended one knee and balanced his weight on his foot pressing it into the bed. His hand wrapped around her throat as he caught a rhythm making her throw it back on him.

The sound of skin clapping filled the room. Y/N’s arch was now the deepest it’s ever been with Erik choking her from behind and making her head tilt up towards the ceiling. Cramping in her stomach let her know that she was about to break. She was finally about to cum from penetration alone. His curved tip would press on a spot she didn’t know she had there causing her legs to convulse. Her whimpers and moans only encouraged him to keep doing what he was doing. Which was tearing her pussy up.

“Shiitt!!” She cursed grabbing onto her titty to have something to hold on.

Erik bit his lip seeing her ass tremble from her orgasm and feeling her squeezing his dick with a vice grip. He slapped her left cheek before pulling out to flip her over on her back. Looking down at his meat it was covered in her creamy juices. His dick jumped at the sight.

“Good ass pussy.” He mumbled in a trance.

Using the weight of his hips he thrusted finding his way back inside of her. The warm wet tunnel closing in on him. Erik lifted up the wife beater that was still on in the mist, and brought it up under his chin tucking it to move it out of his way. His hands found the back of her thighs and pinned them against her chest. He began stroking and getting deeper from the angle.

Being trapped from his hold that he had on her, the only thing Y/N could do was bring her hands to his hips trying to interrupt his movements. Y/N didn’t like this feeling. He was going too deep. Deeper than what she was used to. Shaking her head from side to side she pushed at his hips that only kept going due to her weak and trembling arms not being able to produce enough strength.

“Move ya fuckin hands.” He demanded while keeping his steady stroke. Erik cussed under his breath hearing the smacking sounds coming from her hole that could be mistaken for a pot of mac and cheese being stirred. That’s how good Y/N pussy was.

Her tight walls gripped his dick. Erik looked between their bodies watch the beautiful art being made. Her pussy following him whenever he pulled out to the tip just to be sucked back in. Pussy as good and wet as hers always got him to bust hard. He was close. Leaning down to her neck he kissed and sucked her skin while having her pinned down taking his length. Erik felt her walls slick up and knew she was about to nut again.

“Let that shit go mama.” He whispered in her neck.

Y/N’s nails scratched against his back. Her eyes wailed up with tears feeling the pressure in her stomach building up. She lost count of how many times he had made her cum tonight but she knew she was grateful and only prayed that this wasn’t the last time she got dick this bomb.

“Unhh.” She couldn’t produce any words. Her toes curled as she gazed at the ceiling feeling her body shake.

“There you go.” He pecked her neck.

Erik talked her through her nut while he continued to chase his. It wasn’t long before he felt his dick throb and grow inside of her. Pulling out he climbed on top of her holding his body up with one hand pressed into the bed as he stroked his dick with the other. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked his tip. She could feel his seed spilling on her tongue and traveling down her throat. She wasn’t usually a swallower but the way he had just fucked her he deserved to have his dick milked.

“Ahh shit!” Erik cursed caressing her jaw as he watched her suck him dry. She was cleaning both her juices and his nut off of his dick.

A popping sound escaped her mouth when she released him. Y/N’s body couldn’t move as she laid back staring at him with disbelief. Erik caught her face expression.

“What?” He asked standing on the side of the bed.

“Nothing. It’s just the rumors that I heard about you were all true. You do give some good dick.” Turning to lay on her side Y/N smiled.

Erik laughed. “Yeah well I could say the same about you.”

Her brows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Little birdy that goes to your college told me about how good ya pussy was. Had to find out for myself.” He smirked at her.

“Erik what are you talking about?” Y/N sat up.

“I’m talking about your ex that you fuck from time to time is my second cousin. Nigga couldn’t stop running his mouth about you. Small world ain’t it?”

He paused watching the confusion clouding over her face. “Besides why else you think I had hit you up tonight? It damn sure wasn’t to reminisce over the past.”

Taking off the wife beater, Erik leaned down to kiss her lips before walking away.

______________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

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[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part II

[ previous ] 

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 10.2k

Warnings: specific character attributes (not appearance, mentioned favorite color, movie, etc.), oral, rough sex, multiple orgasms, Erwin is kind of annoying, semi-exhibitionism, too much testosterone  A/N: And, here we go again. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part and told me about it. This one’s for y’all~

Mike immediately notices when you start to avoid him. You had already been doing it, but now it's to the point of ducking into buildings you have no business being in and walking a little too briskly when you catch sight of him somewhere on campus. You also won't get anywhere near the Pi Kappa Alpha house.

 And, he gets it. He fucked up that night. Or, he didn't fuck up, but he opened up. Too much. Showed that he was willing to be vulnerable, and you obviously had not liked that. 

 The first week of watching you duck and cover from afar isn't so bad. He's a little bummed, yeah, but he figures you'll come around, if not for him then at least for his dick. 

 But, one week turns to two, and Mike gets irritated, a little angry even. Because it's not like he did anything wrong. It's not like you haven't wanted it every time. 

 He doesn't know your class schedule exactly, but he does know when you get out of your 11 AM and have to cross the courtyard to your dorm. It's where Mike caught you last time when he was playing frisbee with Nile, and it's where he catches you now. 

 Your speed walking is no match for his normal stride, and he easily closes the distance between you two and grabs your wrist to tug you toward a more private area by the library. 

 "What the fu—what are you doing?" You spit, pulling yourself free. 

 "What are you doing?"

 "Trying to get to my fucking room to nap! Is that okay?" 

 Mike ignores it, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, then asks, "Why are you avoiding me?" 

 Scoffing, you mumble an unconvincing, "I haven't been avoiding you."

 "Bullshit."

 "I've just been busy, okay? Midterms are coming up, and I'm falling behind…" He can tell you're lying by the way you can't meet his eyes. "I need to focus."

 "Am I that big of a distraction?" 

 You don't miss a beat—"Yes," and your eyes widen at your own answer like you're surprised by it. 

 Mike raises his eyebrows, taken off guard, and you try to cover your tracks. "I mean, like, I don't have time to be fucking frat boys. And, I know you have the pick of the litter, so it's not like you'll go without." 

 He has to bite his tongue, a confession right on the tip of it—I pick you—but knows that's the last thing you want to hear. It's too early for thoughts like that anyway. You're too closed off, and he's too transparent. It's not like anything serious could work out anyway, and even if it could, he shouldn't tie himself down. 

 "I mean, yeah, but—"

 You hold a hand up, take a deep breath. "Look, I'll be honest with you. You seem like an okay guy, but you should find some other girl to do this with. I don't wanna be another notch on your bedpost—"

 "Then, don't be. We can just hang out."

 "Yeah, we tried that at the party and still ended up sleeping together."

 "We can make it a rule then." He's trying too hard, he knows, but he can't help it. "No fucking. I won't come onto you, and you won't come onto me."

 You snort and pick at the hem of your shirt, obviously not buying any of this. "Why do you wanna be friends so bad anyway? Is it the hard-to-get thing? Is it that I'm making it difficult?"

 "Maybe but not entirely."

 Why does he want to be your friend so badly? You haven't given him any real reason to. You can bond over nerd shit here and there, but other than that, you don't have a lot in common. 

 You just seem… Cool. Aloof. Like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything, and Mike never thought he'd find that attractive in a girl, but apparently he does. 

 "Just come over one more time. We can watch something again or—"

 "I'm not going into your room again!"

 "You don't have to," Mike says, speaking with his hands to emphasize his point. "We can stay in the living room. Totally public. Any of the guys could walk in."

 "Has that ever stopped any of you before?"

 Not a hundred percent of the time. Mike has definitely seen more of Erwin and Gelgar than he'd like, but he can tell a little white lie.

 "Yes." 

 You stare up at him, a skeptical look on your face, and then, "I'll see if I can pencil you in." 

 "Fuck yeah, I promise I'll show you a good time without, like, showing you a good time." 

 "Yeah, whatever." 

 You're unimpressed, turn to walk away, but Mike is feeling a little too triumphant, a little too bold, and catches you before you can get too far. 

 He premises, "Just to get it out of my system," then bends down and kisses you. Palms covering your cheeks, fingers curling around the back of your head kisses you. He uses both of his thumbs, just under your mouth, to part your lips so that he can slide his tongue past them, and you push at his chest half-heartedly, no real force to it as you let him lick into your mouth. 

 The first whimper that escapes you is what makes you break away, your hands stronger against him to shove him back, and Mike smirks when you glare at him. 

 "You're on thin fucking ice, Zacharias. Thin ice."

 "I'll keep it in mind."

 With that, you leave the little alcove the two of you were in, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Mike just watches the sway of your hips and licks his lips. 

 *

 You come over on a Saturday afternoon. Mike can tell you've tried to make yourself look not cute in loose, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but it doesn't work. Mike still smiles, and you still roll your eyes at him before kicking your shoes off by the door. 

 "Okay, so what are we doing?" You ask, sitting two cushions away from him on the couch. 

 "I brought my Switch in here, so we have that…"

 "Oh, do you have the SNES games downloaded?" 

 "Dumb question. Of course I do."

 "Rude. Open that shit up."

 He does, and you demand to play Donkey Kong, which Mike has no problem with, but, "A please would be nice."

 You click your tongue, holding your hand out for the second tiny controller and tell him, "You don't get to hear me beg anymore."

 Mike feels his shorts tighten, but all he does is kick a foot over his thigh and warn you, "Best not test my self-control like that."

 "Is that a threat?" You laugh, toggling down to 'Two Player' on the screen and clicking it. 

 "Not a threat." He bobs his head to the theme music. "Just lettin’ you know."

 You get as far as Mine Cart Carnage together, but Mike ends up getting tossed from the cart, leaving you to take over as Diddy. He watches the way you move with your character, sitting up straighter, raising the controller to your chest, swaying one way then the next as if your body is tied directly to the game. 

 Erwin walks in a little while later when you're focused on Stop & Go Station. He sits down in a plush chair, phone in his hand that he ignores in favor of asking, "What are you guys doing out here? Shouldn't you be in Mike's room?"

 Mike glances at him, gives him a look and shakes his head, but you're much less subtle when you snap, "Can it, Smith," eyes never leaving the screen. 

 "Don't count on that," Mike snorts. "I think it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than four seconds." 

 "Wooow," Erwin drawls, thick eyebrows high in offense. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, and now you're just talking shit right in front of me."

 "For some reason, I get the feeling your ego can't get bruised that easily," you muse out loud. 

 "I'll have you know I can be very sensitive," Erwin informs you matter-of-factly. "I have a heart. I have feelings. And, I've been told on multiple occasions that I'm more considerate than most men, so there."

 You laugh, a silly sound that gets stuck in your throat. "Oh, really? And how many of those women—'cause that's what they are, I'm sure—were left behind after they built you up like that, hm?"

 Biting both of his lips, Erwin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I plead the fifth on that one."

 "Uh huh, that's what I thought."

 While you're fixated on the screen, Mike glances over at his friend, sees blue eyes shining as Erwin stares at you, a tell-tale smirk on his face. He's amused by you. Interested, even. 

 You stay for about an hour longer before going back to the dorms. As soon as the front door shuts, Mike swivels around and points a finger at Erwin, uttering a low, "Don't you dare," that makes the blond chuckle. 

 "Wouldn't dream of it."

 *

 You mostly hang out on weekends and only in small bursts. Alternating between movies and video games, it's a little hard to speak to one another, but Mike is still able to pry some information out of you and share more about himself. 

 You're majoring in geological and earth sciences while Mike is working toward a degree in environmental science— "Kinda weird we haven't run into each other before." 

 You played basketball for a year in high school before getting annoyed by the other girls. Mike, on the other hand, made some of his best friends on his old soccer team. 

 You had a ferret growing up and now you'll "Never get another pet again 'cause when he died, I died a little with him." (It's the first time Mike has ever seen tears in your eyes, but you blink them away at record speed). He tells you about the dogs his family has had and how the one at home with his parents now is actually his. (Her name's Scout, and I would take a bullet for her.") 

 Hitch is your best friend even though she irritates the shit out of you, and Mike says something similar about Erwin. "He's a good guy. He's just… Passionate about so many things. He gets obsessive. Drives me insane."

 "Obsessed with that pussyyy," you joke in a deep, stupid voice. 

 Mike snorts, "Perv," and keeps watching the movie that's playing. 

 And, speaking of movies, your favorite Disney film is The Fox and The Hound— "Good taste," while his is Lion King— "Classic." As far as other movies, though, the two of you spend half an hour arguing over which Mel Brooks is the best, end up having to agree to disagree (Young Frankenstein vs. High Anxiety).

 Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is pizza (“What are you, twelve?”). Your favorite animal is the pangolin. They’re all little facts that Mike stores away, and by the end of the semester, he actually feels like he kind of knows you, and somehow, against all odds, you've managed to not hookup through it all. 

 That's not to say it hasn't been hard (that he hasn't been hard). Sometimes you come over in skin tight jeans or crop tops, outfits that accentuate your body in all the right ways, and Mike is pretty sure that you do it on purpose. 

 You're both careful not to drink too much at parties, aware of the likely consequences, but you hang around him enough to gain people's attention—jealous girls watching in disappointment, curious guys sizing you up. 

 Questions inevitably arise. You complain about Hitch pestering you for details that you will not give her, and he tells you how he has to keep brushing off his brothers. 

 "She doesn't, like, know we've had sex—would never fucking leave me alone if she did. But she and all her other little friends are so annoying about it."

 You're on the steps outside of the frat house, jackets zipped up, nursing steaming cups of cocoa you got from the nearby shop. 

 "So, what do you tell them?" Mike asks. 

 You shrug your shoulders. "That we're not fucking. Just friends. They don't believe me, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it, dammit."

 Mike laughs through his nose and takes another drink. "I mean, it's not a lie since we're not fucking and we are friends."

 You make a high pitched noise, doubtful, challenging. "Friends is a strong word."

 "Whatever." 

 He's used to you doing that now, denying him every chance you get even in a joking way. You've never once admitted to any type of feelings out loud, and he isn't sure why, some kind of avoidance behavior, but he won't complain because he knows you're at least a little fond of him. You wouldn't keep spending time with him if you weren't. 

 Deciding to change the subject, Mike prompts, "So, Erwin's party over the break," and you glance at him over your cup with interest. "You're coming, right?" 

 "I don't know. Isn't it at, like, his ranch house in bum fuck nowhere?" 

 "Kinda. It's only about a two hour drive from here, but it's definitely off the beaten path."

 "I'll have to see. Need to spend time with my mom while I can." 

 Understandable. He's looking forward to seeing his own parents (and Scout, of course). 

 The last game of the season is played and won, then finals pass after too many all-nighters and too much Red Bull. Mike actually sighs in relief when he slides into his white Wrangler, all packed up and ready to make the drive back to his house. 

 He sends one text before pulling out onto the main road—Be safe—and hopes he won't have to wait an entire month to see you again. 

*

 Staying with your mom is nice but always slightly depressing. The house is empty with just her in it, less lived in than ever before. You can tell exactly which spots she spends most of her time in—her office to work and the couch in front of the TV to wind down. 

 You sleep in your old bedroom, spend most evenings texting Hitch after your mom goes to bed, but a few conversations with Mike slip in too. He sends you several pictures of Scout—beautiful but always wearing one of those perpetual Boxer frowns—and in return, you send him pictures of the pretty betta your mother has in her office. It's the best you can do. 

 After a week of being in your hometown, you're ready to leave it again. It's not terrible or in a bad part of town. It's just… lacking. You'd never tell your mother this, but you have a feeling she knows. It's probably why she doesn't put up a fight when you tell her you're gonna run off for a couple days to attend Erwin's party. 

 "I promise I'll be back. It's just one night and then the drive back."

 Her tone is very serious when she tells you to stay out of trouble, but then she walks you out to your car and hugs you, watching and waving as you drive away. 

 You text Erwin on the way there to ask if it's okay to arrive early—like a few hours early cause I needed to get out of my house—and he replies enthusiastically.

 Absolutely! Mike and Levi are already here 😃

 You have no idea who this Levi is outside of hearing Erwin mention him a few times, but you very quickly find out when you get to the large but secluded house. You see Erwin's stupid (gorgeous) vintage Mustang parked in the gravel driveway as well as Mike's white Jeep and an unfamiliar, black Prius. 

 All three of them are on the porch occupying outdoor chairs that probably cost more than your fucking dorm expenses, but Mike and Erwin both stand when you make your way up the sidewalk. Staying seated, or really sprawled out with his hands behind his head, is a fairly small man (boy, maybe) with inky hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s dressed much differently than the other two, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, and a striped long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved band tee. 

 “What in the e-boy fuck…” You mutter to yourself, nodding at the blonds and letting Mike take your backpack—not that you really have a choice considering your grip on it is no match for his. 

 “Was the drive okay?” He asks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and making it look incredibly small. 

 “Yeah. Once I hit the backroads I could start going, like, eighty-five, so that shaved some time off.”

 Mike snorts. “You sound like Erwin. Dude’s always speeding.”

 “Don’t fucking start with me. I was in the car with you when you almost hit a pedestrian on a crosswalk.”

 “We don’t talk about that.”

 Everyone follows Erwin inside the house. It’s just as nice as you thought it’d be, sprawling and open with wood floors, plush furniture, and rustic decorations. There are moose antlers mounted in one room and a god damned bear head in another. It makes you roll your eyes, but to say you’re unimpressed would be a flat out lie. 

 “Not everyone is staying the night, but I know you have to, so just pick an upstairs room,” Erwin tells you after the grand tour. “I can take you around on the golf cart once you settle in.”

 You see Mike roll his green eyes and amend, “We can take you around.” 

 “Yeah,” Erwin nods. “That’s what I meant.”

 Levi is making a face up at Erwin, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a little grimace. He hasn’t said more than two words to you since you’ve arrived (“I’m Levi.”), but he doesn’t seem like the chatterbox type, a little more standoffish, and you can’t blame him for that. 

 “Just in case you’re wondering, I’m in the middle room,” Mike tells you with a grin.

 “And why, pray tell, would I be wondering that?”

 He basically sings in his deep voice, “No reason,” then walks back downstairs with Erwin and Levi, leaving you to make yourself comfortable. 

 You take the bedroom at the far end of the hallway out of spite more than anything, but you figure the farther away you can be from Mike the better. After setting your things down and organizing deodorant, perfume, and every day jewelry on the dresser, you join the guys downstairs to find them huddling over the kitchen island talking about plans for the night. 

 “Should we get a keg? It won’t be that many people, but it might be easier to just pour from one,” Erwin thinks out loud. 

 “Don’t bother getting a keg if it’s gonna be the same shitty beer you guys have at Pike parties,” you chime in, hip checking Mike so that he’ll scoot over and allow you join their little meeting. 

 Levi lets out a little laugh, the most expressive you’ve seen him so far, while the other two pout at your criticism. 

 “Why don’t you pick the beer then?” Erwin prompts. “Since you have such refined tastes.” 

 Eyebrows lifting, you laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a smartass in the house tonight.” The blond smirks and dusts off his shoulders, making Mike groan in either annoyance or embarrassment. You can’t be sure which one. 

 “Fuck, is this what it’s always like between you three?” Levi asks, looking between all of you. “Just constant bickering?”

 “More or less.”

 “That seems exhausting.”

 “It is,” you confirm. “‘S’why I can only hang out with them in small doses.”

 “Ouch.”

 “Wounded.”

 “Anyway,” you let your head hang so that all they can see is your shoulders shaking as you giggle, and when you look back up, you make sure that the smile is mostly wiped from your face. “I’m not saying I’m some kind of beer expert, but I at least know that the shit you serve at parties is rancid.”

 “And yet, you always seem to forget,” Mike teases. “I always end up having to finish yours.”

 “You don’t have to. You choose to, you fucking alkie.”

 It’s hard to come to any sort of decision with the non-stop push and pull of the conversation, and eventually Levi just walks away to let the three of you work it out. Erwin orders a keg of Rolling Rock, says something about, “Dad won’t mind me splurging a little since I downsized this whole thing for him,” and you scoff at him. 

 He’s well aware of his privilege, talks about it in an ironic manner that’s both maddening and hilarious— “Father is going to let me take the yacht out this weekend,” and, “Oh, that’s not country club appropriate.” It makes you laugh every fucking time, but it also usually earns him a smack or two. 

 The next few hours are spent gathering party supplies and getting the house ready (as in moving some furniture around and hiding valuables). Erwin leaves to pick up the keg after assuring the vendor on the phone that he can drive to them and pay extra for the short notice. You don’t know how he manages it, but you assume his confidence has a lot to do with it.

 Only about twenty people are supposed to come, “An Erwin Smith exclusive,” Mike jokes with you as you stash a couple of vases in the kitchen cabinets. 

 “Oh, does that mean I’m special?” You play.

 “Absolutely.”

 There’s something churning in your gut as you move around downstairs with Mike and Levi, an omniscient feeling, like you know how the night will end, but you’re going to fight it every step of the way. You’ve made it this long without a slip-up, and you’re determined to make it one more night. 

 Erwin gets back with about three hours to spare. He and Mike disappear to change into what you assume to be their usual douche-y attire, and you and Levi sit alone in the large living room waiting quietly. 

 You’re surprised when he speaks first, stating, “You don’t seem the sorority type.”

 Turning, you try to make sense of it, respond, “Well, I’m not.” You’re almost offended that he’d even consider you were.

 “Then what are you doing hanging around with those frat boy fucks?”

 “Oh, that.” You sigh. “Uhh, my friend made me go to one of their parties, and I just… Made an impression, I guess.”

 “You fucked one of ‘em, didn’t you?” Levi is smirking, so sure of himself that you don’t really see the point in denying it.

 “Yeah.”

 “Rich boy or the giant?”

 You look over at him, defenses rising like they did your first night in the Pi Kappa Alpha house. “The fuck is it to you?”

 Holding his hands up, Levi chuckles, “Alright, alright, forget I asked.”

 You cross your arms over your chest, stare off as you wonder if it’s actually that hard to tell. You figured it would be obvious that you’re more comfortable with Mike than with Erwin, but you have been getting more used to the other brazen blond over the last few months, just like you’ve been getting a little more used to Nile and all the other brothers. You haven’t sucked any of their dicks, though. 

 “How’d you meet Erwin?” You try.

 You’re not surprised when Levi snarks, “The fuck is it to you?” 

 You can’t tell if the two of you are going to leave this ranch house as mortal enemies or as friends, but it’ll definitely be one of them. 

 “‘Cause you don’t seem the type to hang out with them either,” you tell him.

 It's definitely odd. He and Erwin have to go back some time to have been able to stick together through their college years and all of their superficial differences. 

 Levi admires the black polish on his nails then informs you in a bored tone, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but it’s no big deal. Just can’t get rid of him.”

 The corner of his mouth turns upward, so he can’t be too heartbroken over it. You understand that, haven’t quite been able to shake your puppy-dog of a friend since the beginning of the semester, but you’re not as annoyed about it as you pretend to be. 

 “They certainly do get attached,” you hum.

 The two men in question join you once again, looking much more palatable in jeans and v-necks. Erwin has a button-down hanging open and rolled up to his elbows while Mike is wearing a black and white flannel in similar fashion. It’s the most casual they’ve been at a party, and you can’t help but joke, “Wow, look at you two. More human, less lizard people for once.”

 Erwin rolls his eyes while Mike mumbles a Doctor Who reference that makes you suck on the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. 

 He’s got his charm turned on tonight, the kind that appeals to you, which will definitely pose a problem.

 People start arriving at around eight, some you recognize from the college, some you don’t who you assume to be some of Erwin’s older friends. Gelgar taps the keg within minutes of walking in then plays the role of bartender for the next ten minutes as everyone lines up for a drink. There’s liquor and mixers set up on the counter, and you consider just making your usual, but you figure you should have at least a little of the beer since you’re the one who fought for the more expensive brand. 

 When you get your cup, foam nearly overflowing past the rim, you take one sip only to cough it back up when Mike shows off his usual party trick—appearing out of thin air—and asks, “You gonna finish it this time?”

 You splutter as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand then glare up at him. “I’m gonna try, but it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ difficult if you keep making me spit up like a god damn baby.”

 He’s amused, light eyes dancing mischievously, and you know you’re in for a long night. 

 Erwin has a playlist filtering through the house’s sound system, a nice balance of several different genres playing at a bearable volume for the first time. Games start up in the kitchen, rage cage around the island, beer pong at the table, and while you’re content to just wallflower in the corner, Mike drags you into it. 

 “You’re just as bad as Hitch," you complain, but he isn't fazed, just plants you in an open spot at the island and stands right beside you. He's gonna regret doing that; rage cage is one of the only competitive games you're actually good at, but he'll find that out. 

 It's fast-paced, full of screaming and laughing, jumping and shoving. You get to slam your cup into Mike's on several occasions, drawing curses from him every time. 

 "Honestly, it's a little embarrassing," you ridicule with a smile. 

 He downs the small amount of beer in the cup he pulls, adds it to the stack, then challenges, "I'll show you embarrassing. Just wait." 

 You've had maybe two beers altogether, but it still sends a jolt down your spine. 

 The two of you play another couple of rounds, and Mike does seem to catch on a little more, but he eventually bows out and pulls you away with him. 

 More beer. Meandering around the party. It's pretty tame in comparison to all the Pike events you've attended, but the later it gets, the rowdier everyone becomes. Music gets turned up to dance. The keg stops being used for pouring and starts being used for stands. You have the absolute pleasure of watching Erwin hold Levi upside down as the smaller man chugs as much as he can. He beats Nile's record, raises his arms in victory as Erwin shakes him by the shoulders in excitement. 

 "They're pretty close, yeah?" 

 Mike looks down at you as you stand on your tip-toes to get closer to his ear as you speak. 

 He nods. "I don't really understand them, but yeah. They've been friends since, like, elementary school, I think."

 "No shit?"

 "No shit."

 You play beer pong against Gelgar and Nile, end up losing by quite a lot, and by the time you finish the remaining cups and another full drink, you're feeling good. Warm, happy, dangerously giggly. 

 Mike stands too close as you make your rounds to talk to people, many of them asking how the lacrosse season went. He puffs his chest a little, tries and fails to act modest, but instead of getting irritated like you usually do, you find yourself resting your cheek against his arm as you shake your head. You don't know if the action is to disagree with him or to get closer, but it makes Mike chuckle and shift so that he can wrap that arm around you and pull you to his chest instead. 

 He smells nice—woodsy with a sweet little bite. It makes your mouth water. You try to call back your determination from before, that readiness to fight and deny, but Mike's body is firm and massive and hot against yours, and he's also drunk and smiling sideways. His eyes are hazy and gorgeous when he peers down at you. His stubble has grown into that perfect length, the kind that feels incredible between your legs, and you can already see your hands tugging at his shaggy hair as he flips it from his face. 

 "You okay?" He rumbles, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

 He knows. You know he knows. And, he knows that you know that— 

 Fuck. Stop. Just…

 "What do you think?" You're aware of what you're saying. The words make perfect sense. You just can't stop them from falling from your mouth is all. 

 "I don't know," Mike says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Why don't you tell me?" 

 You're not sure if he's asking for your consent or if he just wants to humiliate you by making you spell it out for him. 

 "I mean…" Your gaze travels from his face to his neck to his pecs and downward. "The semester is over."

 "It is," he agrees, hand moving from your waist to your hip. 

 "Don't really need to be, uh… What's the word…" You squeeze your eyes shut, splaying your fingers on his stomach. "Studious," you snap. "Don't need to be so studious on vacation."

 Mike very slowly starts walking backwards toward the staircase, holding you at arms length by both your hips now. 

 "No, you really don't." 

 Voice of reason fading away, you step around him but grab his hand, taking the stairs two by two until you're on the balcony that wraps above the living room. Once you slip into the closer room, yours, you lock the door. 

 Mike's mouth is familiar in its desperation—tastes like beer and want and him. He pulls his flannel off behind him by the sleeves just in time for you to start pushing his shirt up over his abs, in awe all over again at the muscle group. 

 It's really not fair. 

 You pause between kisses to strip, smiling and groaning whenever your lips meet again. You've missed it on some level—the heat, the fucking attraction you just can't shake. All the times you hung out with him, purposely keeping distance, avoiding flirting and touching and staring—you figured it would come to a head. You even guessed there was a good chance that it would be at this party. 

 But, that doesn't mean you're prepared when he throws you onto the bed, doesn't prepare you for the way he bites your lip and sucks on your neck and pinches your nipples until you moan his name and grind against him, and it certainly doesn't prepare you for the way he spreads your legs, runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue over your slit. 

 "Fuck, Mike." 

 He groans, quick to slide the muscle into your pulsing cunt to taste you. His fingertips are digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you still save for your trembling which makes the feeling of his mouth even more intense. You want to buck against his face, want to put out the fire raging inside of you by moving somehow, letting some of the energy out, but you can't. All you can do is lay there as Mike licks around your hole and nibbles at your clit and laps up your juices. 

 "Missed this fuckin' pussy," he breathes, sucking on one of your lips and then the other, pulling blood to the surface and making them puffy and sensitive. 

 You card fingers through his hair before fisting your hand in it and shoving his face further into your cunt, trying as hard as you fucking can to ride any part of him you can manage—his tongue, his nose, anything that will give you friction. 

 The sound he makes at your pathetic attempt is bestial, a low, throaty grunt as he rubs his chin up and down your slit, drenching himself in your slick and quickly overstimulating your swollen clit with his stubble. 

 "Oh fuck, oh fuck—"

 "You wanted it," he grits. "You pushed your sloppy little cunt right in my face, so now you've gotta take everything I give you." 

 You cry as he continues the motion, pussy drooling as the little bud starts to grow raw. "Mike, please, please…"

 "Gonna make sure you feel this tomorrow." He stops only to lean back down and suck your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue is soft in comparison to the coarse hair, but it still makes your hips twitch, and when he grazes his teeth over it, you squeal and kick. 

 It's so close to hurting, right on the edge, but it's that helplessness that has you steadily leaking on the bed. It's what makes it easy for Mike to push a finger into your clenching hole, pump a couple times, then slide another one in beside it. 

 Your climax is coiling in your gut, compressed like a spring and only getting tighter with every thrust of long, thick fingers and every measured flick of his tongue. 

 Gripping his hair again, you ride it out. Mike loosens his grip just enough to allow you to undulate in time with the waves that wash over you, and you moan loudly as he moves to flatten his tongue over your entrance so that you come on and against it. 

 He gives you some time to settle down, but you know he isn't done yet, and since you're not quite ready to take his cock in your sensitive pussy, you pull your legs from the sides of his head and crawl to lay with your head off the side of the bed. 

 Mike gets the picture immediately, and you hear a huff of air leave him all at once before he clambers off the mattress to position himself at the edge. You're a little too low, so he grabs all four pillows to shove under you, and as he does, you lavish his bobbing cock with kitten licks, going as far as sucking on his balls when he leans over you. 

 "Jesus fucking—" 

 You can feel the way they tighten, his cockhead dripping pre that lands just below the notch of your sternum. It isn't until he's thoroughly coated in spit that you stop and let him straighten, then open your mouth and relax your shoulders. 

 Mike is careful as he slides his tip past your lips, letting you adjust to the weight of his cock in your mouth before he pushes in a little further. Your eyes start watering as soon as he passes between your molars, making you stretch your jaw and drool from the corners of your mouth. 

 He pulls out then, taps his cockhead on your cheek, leaving a mix of precum and spit on your skin before lining himself up again and sliding back in. 

 He repeats the process a few times as if it'll actually get you used to his size, but it's just not possible. You gag and gurgle, slurp back drool when you're given the chance, and your entire body throbs when Mike tells you, "I'm gonna give you more now, okay? Wanna see your throat bulge with my cock."

 You moan around him, try to make the passage of your mouth and esophagus as straight as possible then let your eyes roll back as he slips into the tighter sleeve for a few seconds. Your toes dig into the bedspread, fingers clawing at the material as you fight back the panic that comes with not being able to breathe. 

 Mike pulls out panting, and you wish you could see his face, the look in his eyes, but you can't. All you can do is lap at his cock until he pushes it into your mouth again. 

 This time when he slips into your throat, he reaches down to press a hand to your neck, letting out a deep, disbelieving laugh as he feels the way his length moves in it. "Holy shit. I could—" he just barely gives you more, and your responding whine is completely muffled by him, "—Could come like this."

 The thought makes you tingle. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen. You are feeling a little lightheaded. But the idea of him coming down your throat, right into your stomach, fuck, it makes your cunt pulse again. 

 Mike pulls out, and you suck in deep breaths, a little sob making your chest heave. Tears are streaming from your eyes, getting caught in your hair, and you have to wipe other various fluids from your face. 

 He helps you sit back up, rubs your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck as your heart rate returns to normal. As soon as he sees you relax, though, he's tugging you from the bed and bending you over it. 

 The scream that's pushed from you is hoarse as you're split open on his cock. Mike holds you by the hair, pulling your head back as he snaps his hips forward and back relentlessly. He slides in and out of you easily, but that doesn't mean he isn't stretching you to your breaking point. 

 You shake on the bed, thankful when he lets go of your head so that you can fall back to the mattress, crying and moaning all you want. 

 "Feel so good, baby," Mike groans. "So good."

 He punctuates it with a slap to your ass that causes you to squeeze him, and that only encourages him to repeat the action until both your cheeks are radiating heat and stinging from his hands. 

 He flips you like a doll, and you're finally able to see his face clearly as he stares down at you with a dropped jaw and heavy lids. You know you're a mess, fucked out and sloppy, but as he abuses your g-spot with the ridge of his cock, all you can do is grin drunkenly and let your eyes roll. 

 "So pretty when you smile," he praises. Fingers grip your chin, and when you're able to focus your gaze again you find Mike leaning over you, face level with yours. "Open your mouth for me." His tone is soft yet demanding, and you don't hesitate for a second as you do what you're told. 

 Mike pushes spit through his lips, letting it drip and stretch until it lands on your tongue. It makes you feel cheap and disgusting, but it doesn't stop you from squirting around him. 

 Devolving into nothing more than grunts and groans, Mike continues to fuck into you but straightens so that he can reach your clit better. He flicks it back and forth until your true orgasm hits you, and then he keeps going. 

 You cry out, squirm wildly beneath him, but all it results in is two fingers being shoved in your mouth. Stroking over the back of your tongue, more saliva pours from your mouth just like the slick that pours from your pussy while he toys with your clit. 

 You come again. And again. When Mike finally removes his hand from between your legs, you're nothing more than a puddle, moaning and crying for him. 

 Every orgasm has made your walls swell around him, his cock feeling longer and thicker than ever as he kisses your cervix with every thrust. That lightheaded sensation is back, white dots dancing around your eyes, and you just barely manage out his name, tapping in his forearm. 

 "Need… need…"

 "What do you need, babe?"

 Your arms curl up by your head, fingers moving and spasming as every one of your senses is overwhelmed.

  "Need you to—t-to—to come. Need you to c-come." 

 You've never had to tap out before, but you can't take him anymore. His size. His expression. His lack of fucking mercy.

 "Yeah?" He coos, but his cock is still dragging in and out of you. You nod, but Mike draws it out, asking, "Where do you want me to come?"

 "Don't… Care…"

 "You don't care?" He's still moving, fucking you absolutely stupid as he lists out, "Your face? Your tits?" He gropes your chest, pinching both nipples, and the fact that you don't even whimper must clue him into the fact that he's about to lose you. 

 Your mind is swimming, fading every time he pulls out only to be brought back online when he pushes back in. 

 "What about your pussy? Want me to come all over your pussy?" 

 You moan, the simplest part of your brain apparently finding that appealing, so after a few more thrusts, Mike pulls out entirely and jerks himself off until he covers your folds in hot cum. He gets some on your thighs, some on your pelvis, soaks your peaking clit so that you take in a stuttering breath. 

 His hand is between your legs again, fingertips spreading the viscous fluid around and dipping into your slit.

 Your eyes shoot open for the first time in God knows how long, a panicked, "M-Mike," tumbling from your lips, but he hushes you.

 "I'm not pushing it inside or anything. Just having fun."

 And, fuck, tonight is the night you learn how filthy he is. Mike spends a few solid minutes rubbing his seed over your puffy lips, fingers the raw tissue around your hole so that you leak for him, then uses it to massage your clit slowly and softly, pulling one last orgasm from you that makes fresh tears spring in your eyes. 

 You're going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you can't regret it—not when your legs continue to shake long after your climax, not when you can already feel that satisfying ache deep inside of you, not when Mike crawls to sit on the bed and lifts you into his arms. 

 "You okay?" He asks into your hair. 

 He's rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you drift in and out. You know you need to shower, but you're so tired and so wrecked, you doubt you'll be able to stand for long enough to clean yourself. 

 "Did I hurt you?" 

 "Mm, little bit," you tell him honestly. You can actually feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest, so you reassure him, "Liked it, though."

 You think something like twenty minutes pass, but you can't be sure as you keep dozing. It's hard not to with Mike rubbing your stomach, his body rising and falling in rhythm with every breath he takes. 

 When your eyes open more than halfway, you begin to move, grimacing at the soreness between your legs as well as the mess. 

 "'m gonna hop in the shower," you announce. 

 Mike sits up too, stretches his arms and asks through a groan, "Want me to come with?"

 "You've done enough coming tonight," you snort. "But nah, I can clean myself on my own."

 His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, just lets you get up and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs. 

 The hot water almost puts you back to sleep. You manage to rinse off where you need to, step back into the room fully expecting to see Mike passed out in your bed, but he's nowhere to be found. 

 As you crawl under the covers, you try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that's stuck in your throat. 

 *

Mike is up before almost everyone in the house the next morning, so he spends most of it trying to clean up alongside Levi, though he apparently isn't doing a very good job of it according to the smaller man. 

 "Jesus, have you ever mopped a floor in your life?" 

 "Oh, so we're just throwing everything in the same trash bag? No recycling? Your future kids will thank you for that, I'm sure."

 "No, there's no way I’m letting you wipe down the counters. Just move." 

 Levi is lucky Mike is as laid back as he is otherwise he would have thrown the little fuck into the koi pond behind the house a long time ago. 

 Erwin wakes up around nine and walks down looking a little rough, but Mike has definitely seen him in worse states. 

 "Thanks for cleaning up," he says, bent over the island and holding his head in his hands. "Pretty sure I would have thrown up if I'd tried. Several times."

 He tells the other two that pretty much everyone else started heading out at around three and that he has a list of party-goers he needs to text to make sure they made it home in one piece, "When I can actually fucking see straight."

 Naturally, the conversation turns to Mike. Erwin, with his cheek now pressed against the cool, granite countertop, smirks up at him and asks in a sly voice, "So, how was your night?' 

 Mike bites his lip to hide a smile, leans out of the kitchen to make sure you aren't stumbling down the stairs or traipsing about the house, then looks back to his friend and laughs, "Fucking mind-blowing, dude." He doesn't go into explicit detail—that's never been his style—but he does whisper about you taking him better than any other girl and that he's, "Addicted, dude. I genuinely think I am addicted to her pussy." 

 "Don't be fucking dramatic, Zacharias," you pop out behind him, slapping his back as you pass him to get to the fridge. He can see the ghost of a smile turning your lips up, but it's hard to feel satisfied at that when his own face is beet red. 

 Looking at Erwin, Mike throws his hands out by his side, mutters an incredulous, "Dude," that makes the other blond chuckle. 

 You grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, making Levi grumble, "Are none of you guys concerned about the planet? God damn."

 Standing between Mike and Erwin, you take a few gulps, all eyes on you until you swallow and question, "Can I help you?" Now that you're right next to him, Mike can hear a scratchiness to your voice, almost as if you're getting sick, but he knows better, knows exactly where it came from, and fuck if it doesn't make him twitch in his sweats. 

 "Have a good time at the party?" Erwin pries once again. 

 You look at him with a deadpan expression, then answer, "Seems like you already got the deets, so sure. I had a grand time."

 Mike isn't sure if you're being sarcastic about it just like you are everything else. You had just kind of left him hanging when you'd gone to shower. He hadn't thought too much into it even if he'd been a little bummed, but he thinks he understands. You just need more space than he does. 

 Or, it could have been that you hadn't enjoyed yourself. Oh god, what if you'd just been faking? What if you'd lied to him when he asked if he hurt you? What if you're in pain right now and just hiding it? 

 Mike zones out while you talk with Erwin and Levi about plans for the day, works himself into a nice little panic but is still able to hear you tell them you're just gonna head back to your mom's. 

 "You sure?" Erwin asks. "I know you only planned to stay one night, but you're more than welcome to hang out for longer. We’ll be here for at least another few days."

 Levi adds an, "Unfortunately," that earns him a hair ruffle he swats away. 

 "No, it's cool. I can't leave mom alone for the holiday or she'll start to think I don't like staying at the house."

 "You don't, though."

 "Yeah, but she doesn't have to know that."

 Mike stares after you as you take your water bottle and return upstairs, and it doesn't escape the notice of the other two men. 

 "You're so fuckin' whipped, man," Erwin teases. 

 Mike doesn't deny it, just holds up a middle finger. 

 Erwin isn't entirely wrong, though. Mike has been trying to deny it or play it off as nothing more than lust, but there's more to his feelings at this point. He tries not to be obvious around you, to keep his cards close to his chest because he knows you just want to keep things casual—barely even want that if he's being honest. 

 So he can hide it. He can pretend it isn't happening. In fact, Mike should be thankful that you only want sex (sometimes) because it leaves him to do whatever he wants. He could fuck other chicks left and right, and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. That's a good thing, right? 

 That worry about last night still has him on edge, though, so before you can leave, Mike catches you in your room as you're packing up and closes the door. 

 He expects you to make some kind of comment about not being able to go again, but all you do is tilt your head to the side in a dangerously cute way. 

 "Hey, I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you felt okay after last night." 

 You blink at him, pause in folding your clothes, then show a wide, real grin. 

 "Yeah, I'm fine. Sore in various places—like, super sore—but I'm fine."

 Mike's mouth twists to hide his smirk, and he mumbles a low, "Sorry."

 "Don't ever apologize for your monster cock," you tell him, setting your shirt down on the mattress before pacing over to him. "Like, unless there's tearing of some sort, which there really shouldn't be since you're good at preparation, whoever you fuck should be okay. Sore but okay."

 His eyes go a little wide when you stop in front of him, looking up with an expression he's really never seen before—or maybe that you've never allowed him to see before—and the longer he stares, the more he realizes that you're god damn glowing. 

 Taking a chance, he finds your waist with his hands, inches just a little closer, then leans down when you stand on your toes and tug him by the shirt. 

 You taste like peppermint and already smell like the perfume you wear every day, the scent that has made Mike dizzy for the past few months. He moves a hand to your back to press your body into his, and when you take his bottom lip into your mouth, biting and sucking, he groans and pulls back before he can get too hard. 

 "What's all this? Why are you so perky this morning?" 

 "I get giddy after good sex," you say with a shrug. "Sue me."

 "That why you run away every time I fuck you?" He questions.

 You nod. "Couldn't run away this time, though."

 "I'm sure it's really bruising your pride, letting me see you all warm and gooey." 

 "I am not warm and gooey," you protest. "I was last night, but—"

 "Aw, gross, why'd you have to say it like that?" 

 You giggle—giggle—then remind him, "You're the one who felt the need to fucking fingerpaint."

 Mike vividly remembers the way your pussy looked covered in his cum, the way it felt to smear it and play with your swollen entrance and clit, and now… Now he is definitely hard again. 

 "Better stop before you end up on that bed again."

 Your eyes are dancing, tone mischievous when you respond, "Only if you're gentle."

 "Christ—"

 He's got you naked and spread on the mattress in less than thirty seconds, tongue buried in your cunt as he soothes every part of you he can reach. 

 It would be cruel to actually fuck you again. He knows you're probably a little more tender than you're letting on, so Mike settles for licking into you and flicking your clit, never using teeth as it swells in his mouth so that you pant and moan, and promise, "I can handle it, Mike, I can…"

 "I don't care if you can or can't. Just lemme do this."

 And, it's not like he hasn't pulled his cock from his pants, pumping it and coating his length in the pre-cum he drips at the mere sight of you.

 He can tell you're getting close when your thighs start to tense. You alternate between shifting your hips and going slack. It's the latter that you leak the most, pussy opening around his tongue only to clench a few seconds later. 

 "Just one finger, Mike, please, I want—I need something inside me, please, please," you moan. 

 Mike turns his face to kiss your thigh, sighing but giving in easily when he acquiesces, "Only one."

 The noise you make as he slides his middle finger into you is like music, high pitched and drawn out, with an awe one would sing hymns with. 

 "Yes, yes, yes, thank you, fuck, tha—"

 He understands why you wanted it so badly when he pulls it out and sees his finger coated in white, considers fucking you with it to the point of tears, but before he can, the door to the bedroom swings open and fucking Erwin walks in to ask, "Levi and I are going to the store—"

 “Jesus fuck, Erwin!" Mike swears. "A little busy here!"

 His friend is unfazed, but more importantly, you are too, arching your back, pulling Mike's hair to get him back where you want him, then moaning his name like you never have before as you come. 

 You tremble and take in stuttering breaths, and Mike does his best to hide your exposed pussy from prying eyes as he looks at Erwin and barks out a furious, "No, I don't need anything from the store. Get out."

 The blond shrugs and turns, walking out without shutting the door, and Mike swears he's gonna kill him. He's too bold and too entitled and now he's seen far too much of your body, and Mike doesn't like that. 

 "Did you come?" You ask in an airy voice. Mike guesses you could feel the rhythm of his hand on his cock, probably pushing his face harder against you with every pass. 

 "Uh, no. I don't know if you noticed, but Erwin walked in."

 "I noticed," you snort, sitting up on your elbows. "Why do you think I moaned your name like that?"

 "What?" It had seemed a little odd. Mike knows he's pretty good at oral, but you've never made a sound like that before. 

 "Fucker wanted to see what we were up to, I decided to show him. Now he knows how good you are."

 Mike stands, peers down at you skeptically and says, "You're being too nice to me today. It's freakin' me out a little."

 He doesn't think it's necessary to add that Erwin is already aware of his sexual prowess considering they definitely had a threesome with a rather adventurous girl back in freshman year. It's just not pertinent information. 

 "Soak it up, Zacharias. I'm sure the good mood will be gone by tomorrow."

 "Why, cause I won't be at your mom's to fuck you stupid every night?" His voice comes out cocky, but it's stifled by the way you squeal when he slaps a hand over your wet pussy.

 "I'm sensitive, you asshole!" You're smiling even as you whine. "And, here I was about to give you head to get you off."

 "I mean, you can still do that."

 You glare up at him the whole time you slide off the bed to your knees, warn, "Better hope I don't bite."

 *

 After you leave (and after making out against Mike’s Wrangler for a little too long), he goes back inside to find Erwin and Levi lounging in the den with a movie playing. He wastes no time in snapping his fingers at Erwin and commanding, "We're gonna talk."

 "Oh, are we?" Erwin doesn't even look away until Mike grabs the back of his shirt, and only then does he move from his spot. "Okay, okay, watch the wrinkles, bro."

 He follows Mike into the kitchen, out of earshot unless either of them raise their voices which… Could happen. 

 "What the fuck was that?" Mike hisses. 

 Erwin looks at him with big blue eyes and plays dumb, "What the fuck was what?" 

 Taking a deep breath through his nose, Mike makes sure his voice comes out low and steady, "Smith, I swear to God, it's been a long time since I've punched you, but you're fuckin' testing me, dude."

 Erwin smiles, face lighting up with what looks like excitement but could also be fury. 

 "Mike," he starts. "Don't tell me you're getting violent over a girl." His tone is patronizing, his eyebrows are high, and his grin is downright menacing. 

 "I haven't gotten violent yet," Mike grits. 

 "Hey, how was I to know what you two were doing up there?" 

 "It's not about you walking in, dude! It's about you just fucking standing there!"

 Erwin chuckles and blows him off, "Mike, I've seen your dick before. You've got nothing to worry about."

 "That's not what I'm worried about. You just, like, came in when she was in a vulnerable position, and that's fucked up."

 "She didn't seem to mind."

 Mike sucks his teeth, takes another grounding breath, then asks again, "Why? Why did you wait to leave?" 

 "You want me to be honest?" Erwin rolls his neck then his shoulders. Mike has seen him do that many times before lacrosse games to loosen up—to get ready for a fight. 

 Mike's fist clenches at his side. "Yeah, I do."

 "You've been making yourself crazy over this girl since the start of the semester, and I want to know why."

 "What do you mean?" Mike doesn't know why he asks, has a pretty good idea of what Erwin is alluding to. 

 The blond still dodges the question but in about the worst way possible. "It's not like you two are exclusive or anything."

 Mike feels the way his lungs fill to the point of burning, how his jaw clenches until his molars begin to ache under the pressure, and before he really knows what's happening, he's bowing up to his best friend. 

 Erwin matches him, only a couple inches shorter, chin tilted, that maddening light in his eyes. 

 "Walk away, Mike," he warns. "And, we can forget this little spat even happened."

 Mike peers down his nose at him, trying to rein in his emotions because Erwin is right. You two aren't exclusive. You don't want to be. You told him it was because you need to focus on school, but it could be that you want other options. 

 But fuck, Mike doesn't want Erwin to be one of them. He's stolen more than a few girls right from under Mike's nose with his stupid charm and stupid face and stupid money. He doesn't want you to fall prey to all of it too. 

 Mike doesn't even register the quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen, but Levi's smartass, "You guys about to kiss or somethin'?" definitely snaps him out of his head. 

 Stepping back, Mike resists the urge to punch the counter and break his fucking hand, then turns and strides out. 

 He's supposed to stay at the ranch house for a couple more days, but Mike needs to distance himself before he does something stupid. 

 When he comes back downstairs with his bag on his shoulder and his keys in his hand, Erwin seems to realize his error on at least some level and stands from his place on the couch. 

 "Mike, come on, I'm sor—"

 "Let me cool off, dude,” Mike snaps.

 Erwin shuts his mouth and sits back down, smart enough not to follow Mike outside.

[ next ]

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch6: That Makes Two Of Us

Summary: Things heat up between Katie and Steve as their relationship progresses, but when Tony caches them out, he’s on the war path.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad Language, Smut (dry humping, oral- male receiving) NSFW, 18+. and a VERY angry Big Brother...

A/N: One of my favourite chapters. Thank you to @angrybirdcr​ , its a pleasure to have your edits for the repostings!

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 5

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

End of May 2013

“For the one hundredth time, no, Tony I am NOT coming.” Katie groaned as she pulled up outside Steve’s apartment building “I have work to do.” “But the damned meeting is in DC!” Tony protested “Surely you can manage to spare an hour! You’re part of the board!” “You know full well that’s only to make sure that Starks maintain a controlling stake!”

“So basically what you’re saying is that you don’t care about our business.” Her brother’s voice took on a petulant tone. He could be such a child at times. “Stop being a dick.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose “Look, I’m busy with work, I can’t just drop everything you know just because you-” “Have you got a man on the go?” Tony asked suddenly, cutting her off “Because I’ve not seen you for weeks. Do I need to prep a Shovel Talk?” “Goodbye, Tony.” Katie cancelled the call before she stepped out of the car and headed to the lobby door.

In his apartment Steve was reading a proposal and groaning to himself. They wanted him to record videos to talk to high school kids about puberty, keeping fit, being in detention, not doing drugs…and he had agreed, just to shut them up mainly, but he was already regretting his decision. With a final wrinkle of his nose, he threw down the document he was looking at and was about to make himself a coffee when the buzzer to his apartment went off.

“Hey, Handsome.” Katie’s voice rang over the intercom and he smiled just as he always did when she called him that, a habit she’d slipped easily into over the last three weeks of dating, which had consisted of early morning breakfast meets on their way into work, stolen lunchtimes away from the office where they could hold hands with a slice or a burrito as they walked around the Mal, three more intimate evening meals at quiet restaurants and one trip to the cinema. That had been Steve’s favourite date so far, not just because it had been his first time in a movie theatre since the 40s, but more so that he he’d enjoyed the feel of her as she leaned into him when he’d put his arm round the back of her chair, sharing popcorn, stolen quick kisses on the lips in the dark as they sat on the back row in between their bursts of hysterical laughter at the film. They had gone to see the third and final instalment of the Hangover trilogy, which Katie had been ridiculously excited about. She loved those films and Steve had to admit he agreed they were pretty good, as all three had made him laugh in places until tears rolled down his face. Movie and TV nights in their apartments had also turned into something special too as they snuggled down together, sharing snacks and personal space along with deep kisses that left him wanting a lot more… “Hey Sweetheart, come on up.”

He waited for her by the door and felt his breath catch as she emerged onto the landing from the stairs. She was wearing a blue and white LA Dodgers T-shirt, which was tight and finished just above her hips and clung to her chest flashing a strip of her toned stomach, tight grey jeans which fit snug to her ass and black baseball boots. Steve had seen her in all sorts of clothing items- jeans, tops, dresses…but never like this.

And fuck, she looked hot.

“Hi!” She greeted him with a huge smile and a gentle kiss, standing on her toes to meet his lips, before she stepped into the apartment and headed into the living room. Spotting the file on the coffee table she picked it up.

“What’s this?” She asked, opening it.

“A proposal from Fury. I’m going to be doing some videos, for high school kids..phys-ed classes that kinda thing.” “Videos?” “Yeah, apparently they get Celebrities to do them normally but they thought they’d use me this time.” Steve shrugged. “You’re not some kind of performing monkey they can trot out when they want.” She winkled her nose in distaste as she remembered those awful USO videos as she thumbed through the file. 

Steve smiled at her indignation on his behalf. “It’s only a couple of videos.” he assured her. 

“Hmm.” she dropped the file with disdain onto the table “Anyway, enough about that. You busy?” “When it comes to spending time with you? Never.”

“Oh that was smooth, Captain Badass!” She smirked and he gave her a quick shrug and a smile.

“What you got in mind?”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat she pulled out what looked like two tickets from her back pocket and suddenly it became apparent why she was dressed as she was.

“Are we…no, you’re kidding?” Steve couldn’t help the childish grin which flickered across his face “Baseball?” *****

“Oh what?” Katie cried out, jumping to her feet as the umpire made an atrocious decision for what felt like the 100th time, turning to Steve in disgust. “Is this guy blind or just really fucking dumb?”

Steve let out a snort, leaning back in his seat with his hand gesturing to the field. “Blind, he has to be. No one can be that stupid. I mean he’s been calling bad ones all game.”

Katie angrily dropped to her chair and Steve gestured to the vendor for two more beers. He passed one to Katie who hesitated as she took it.

“I bought the car.” She said, looking at him.

“Sweetheart,” he leaned over, kissing her cheek, “ridiculously fast metabolism, remember? I can’t get drunk. I’ll drive home…”

He handed over his money, waved away the little bit of change he would have received before he turned back to his girl who was pouting at him.

“The last time you drove Rainey you didn’t respect her. You drove her through a fuck tonne of puddles.”

“Doll, it’s a…”

“Er, she.” Katie looked at him. “She is not an it…”

Steve rolled his eyes. She was ridiculously attached to her Range Rover. He had to admit, as far as cars went it was pretty damned nice both to be driven in and to drive. White with black wheels and windows, and every gadget in it known to man. Mind you, he expected nothing else from the Starks.

“Ok, she is a damned four by four…” He raised an eyebrow for her. “They’re supposed to go off roading, so what’s a few puddles?”

“Off roading?” Katie spluttered, her eyes wide. “No! You’re so not driving her ever again.”

“Fine I’ll drink both of these then.” He shrugged, moving to take the beer he’d handed her back, and she moved it out of his reach, glaring at him. The desire to drink and have fun won out over protecting her car from a haphazard Captain who was on the sly a bit of a speed demon and probably never actually completed any kind of driving lesson in his life, let alone a test. She dug into her pocket and handed over her keys.

“One scratch and you’re a dead man.” She narrowed her eyes playfully.

“I’ll take good care of her.” He said solemnly, putting the keys into his pocket.

As the game progressed, despite his protestations that the LA Dodgers just weren’t his team, he found himself rooting for them and he was getting more and more frustrated at the current batters method. The guy was swinging it around with more force than Thor wielded his hammer and it wasn’t working. But just as Steve was about to let out another cry of frustration, the bat suddenly connected with the ball, and it was a good hit. Both Steve and Katie got to their feet shouting for the players to speed up and go for home. When they made it the pair both let out a loud cheer, and Steve hugged Katie, grinning wildly. At that moment, stood there, surrounded by strangers but with the girl who made him feel so grounded, he had never felt so normal since coming out of the ice, and he loved it. 

The rest of the innings passed far too fast, but at the end of the game, the Dodgers won, much to Katie’s delight. They joined the throng of people streaming out of the stadium hand in hand and Steve, still grinning like an idiot felt Katie tug on his hand.

“Shall we head for a drink?” She asked as he looked at her.

He nodded, tilting the peak of her cap back slightly and giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Sounds great.” And it was a great idea. Until they parked up, walked into the sports bar and spotted half of STRIKE in there round a table.

“Turn around.” Katie hissed with a groan and, just as they were about to do so, Rumlow yelled from the bar.

“Hey Cap, Nova…”

“Too late.” Steve muttered as Katie rolled her eyes and turned round.

“Fancy seeing you here!” Rumlow smiled and Katie shrugged.

“Yeah, small world, huh?”

“You want a beer, Cap?” Rumlow gestured to the bar and Steve nodded.

“Sure, thanks.”

“Stark, what do you…woah, what is this shit?” Rumlow pointed at her shirt and it didn’t escape Steve’s notice that the man’s gaze was lingering far too long on her boobs. He took a deep inhale, his fists clenching in his pockets as Katie let out a scoff.  

“This shit just kicked the Nationals asses!” she responded, jabbing Rumlow in his chest.

“Whatever man!” Rumlow shook his head. “Fucking Dodgers…” They didn’t have much option then but to join the rest of the team. Rumlow took the opportunity to eyeball Katie at every given opportunity and it was really starting to piss Steve off. At one time Katie looked up and caught Steve simply glaring at Rumlow, and in an attempt to keep him calm she gently squeezed his knee under the table. Steve was glad when it was his round, giving him an excuse to leave the table, Evans following to give him a hand.

“Enjoy your date?” Thee ginger haired man looked at Steve with a smirk.

“What?” Steve replied, a little too quickly. “I saw you and Stark kissing.” Evans popped a shoulder. “Outside the stadium. Don’t worry, no one else did.” Steve let out a sigh. It wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong, but he knew that Tony didn’t know yet and the pair of them were simply enjoying the early stages of a new relationship on their own before the inevitable tornado of interest hit once they did go public. Glancing at Katie who was talking to Rollins and Rumlow at their table, he turned back to Evans and dropped his voice slightly.

“We’re not deliberately keeping it from everyone, it’s just early days, don’t want everyone sticking their noses in, get what I’m sayin’?” “Secret’s safe with me.” Evans nodded. “Although I suspect it won’t be a secret for much longer if Rumlow keeps eye fucking your girl.”

Steve let out a snort as he took his change from the bar tender. “He’s a pain in the ass.” “Yeah well do me a favour, Cap.” Evans chuckled, picking up three of the glasses “When you do eventually snap and beat on him, make sure I’m there. Been waiting for someone to smack the shit outta him for years.”

****

Later that evening the coffee table at Katie’s apartment sported a number of empty plates, which had previously contained several frozen pizzas, and a good quantity of empty beer bottles. Katie was happily snuggled under Steve’s arm, curled against him and he was enjoying the closeness and comfortable silence that had fallen over them as they watched another ‘Game of Thrones’ episode. Katie had gotten him hooked on the fantasy programme and promised not to watch any of the latest season until he had caught up on the last two. As the episode finished he felt her stir and he didn’t want her to move, thankfully she didn’t too far, simply shifting her head slightly.

“So I never asked if you enjoyed yourself” She asked, looking up at him.

“Doll, it was amazing. Thank you.” “We should go more often” She mused “I haven’t seen a game live in years but I really enjoyed it.”

“You know what I didn’t enjoy?” He looked down at her, the soft light from the lamp illuminating her pretty face, highlighting the freckles spattered across her nose. “Sitting in that bar with Rumlow watching him looking at you.”

“Aww were you jealous?” She teased, sitting up.

“Not at all.” He shook his head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he recalled what Evans had said at the bar “Just don’t appreciate him eye fucking my girl.”

She let out a large snort before she looked at him, as her brain registered what he had just said.

“Your girl?” Her tone was teasing but the look in her eyes told him she was anything but, in fact she looked almost nervous. “Is that what I am?”

Steve hesitated, realising that he’d never actually asked her that question before. Was three weeks too soon? He had no idea. To him it wasn’t, he’d been waiting to be able to call her his for months now, but was he outside of modern day dating etiquette?

He looked at her and took a deep breath, before he swallowed and spoke quietly, the nerves making his stomach flip slightly. “Well I’m kinda hoping you wannabe. I mean, if it’s not too soon.”

“It’s not too soon, it’s not too soon at all.” She whispered as she looked back at him, her features soft, eyes alive in the dim light of the lamp. “Stevie, I already am.”

And that was it, his lips crashed onto hers and he was kissing her like he’d been wanting to kiss her all day, his arm curling tighter round her, pulling her close. Katie took the initiative, every inch of her body was on fire for him, and she wrapped her arms round his neck and pulled him down as she fell slowly backwards, sinking into the couch. The movement came as a not-entirely unwelcome surprise to Steve and he didn’t resist. Automatically his hands crept to her hips, settling just under the hem of her top as she placed both hands on his face, the pads of her finger tips cupping his jaw. She broke away this time to breathe, head laying back on the arm of the couch and he dropped his head, pausing his lips inches from her neck.

“Can I kiss you here?” He whispered softly. .

“God, yes.” Katie sighed and he obliged, pressing his mouth to her neck. He gripped her hips again and they gave a little jerk of their own accord, pushing up against him and they she let out a soft moan at the feeling of his crotch bumping against hers. At the noise Steve pulled back to stare at her again, almost as if he was needing her permission to carry on. Katie wordlessly answered by tilting her hips up again, causing him to give a little grunt as she did so, before he took a deep breath and swallowed.

“Doll, I don’t want to rush you or do anything-”

“It’s okay Steve,” Her voice was low and slightly breathy as she looked at him, her eyes, locking onto his. She wanted this, more than she’d wanted anything before. She pushed her head upwards, lips pressing back to his and her hands slid under his t- shirt. His muscles twitched at her touch as the sensation of her gently dragging her nails across his stomach sent a spike of desire, like a red hot poker through his entire body. At that point, something snapped inside him and he let out a growl and Katie paused, hands still on his stomach.

“Did you just growl at me?” Her eyes flashed, dark, a smirk on her face. She was enjoying the effect she had on him, and right now so was he.

“Yeah.” he nodded, simply.

Her smirk grew wider as she grasped the bottom of his T-shirt. He held his arms up so she pull it over his head, and once he was free, he glanced down to see Katie looking at his chest.

She’d never seen him topless before and she was momentarily stunned. She let her hands wander, tracing the lines of the flowing muscles and Steve let out another groan wanting to feel her skin against his. He interrupted her hands exploration by gripping her top and looked back at her, ever questioning. As means of an answer she moved her arms and sat up slightly to allow him to yank it up and off, her hair falling around her shoulders, his lips catching hers as he gently slipped one strap of her bra down at a time placing a soft kiss on each of her shoulders. Her breasts spilled over the tops of the lace lined cups and his groin twitched, the crotch of his jeans now painfully tight.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered gently, and then he kissed her again. Her fingers gently took his hands and she guided them onto her, sliding them up her rib cage to her chest and he obliged, boy did he oblige. Gently at first, softly squeezing and kneading the soft flesh and white lace, before his hand slid into the cups, teasing her taught nipples with his thumbs, acting completely on instinct, listening and watching her as she groaned gently, arching her back, her reaction telling him he was doing something right as all the time his groin bumped against hers.

Katie could feel the fabric of her underwear sliding in her jeans with every thrust of his hips against hers, that’s how wet she was. Steve was rocking hard against her and she buried her fingers in his hair, pulling sharply, forcing his head back, almost violently. As she tugged he let out another low growl and when she let go he stared down at her to see her smirking as she watched him, his pupils blown so wide there was hardly any blue left.

The rhythm of his hips was growing more frantic and their kisses were growing more desperate. “More,” she moaned into his mouth, and he gave her what she wanted, moving his hips even faster, rubbing against her in ways that had her clutching at his back like her life depended on it. Steve had never felt anything like this in his life. It was so good, so right, in a way nothing had ever felt so right before. This was a first for him, rutting up against someone fully clothed. Making out, Bucky had called it, but none of Steve’s bedroom experiences had ever entailed anything like this, and God, his head was a whirl of lust, desire, and he didn’t give a fuck about anything else at that moment other than her as she lay underneath him.

He started to lose his rhythm and he let out another groan as the tell-tale tightening across his lower stomach warned him he was fast approaching his release. This was too soon, he needed to get her there first. Clenching his teeth he desperately fought back the high as he pushed his hips down hard, making her gasp and claw at his back.

“Sweetheart, I’m close.” He breathed. “You almost there? Tell me your close baby, please?”

He needn’t have worried, at his words it was all she could do to moan brokenly and nod and his mouth fell to that spot on her neck which seemed to drive her wild. She tipped her head back as he gently nipped beneath her ear with his teeth and a few more thrusts of his hips against hers and she was done, fingers wrapped around his hair as the lights exploded in front her eyes and she felt the coil in her stomach unravelling as she came hard underneath him, hips bucking upwards, almost violently. Her voice was broken as she gasped out “Stevie…”and it was the single most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life. Her name for him, the name that no-one in this day and age called him other than her, tumbled from her lips and seeing and feeling her fall apart in his arms sent him over the edge right behind her in a pure surge of ecstasy. He fell forward, his arms shaking as he fought to keep his body up, not wanting to crush her under his weight. His head dropped forward, as he lowered himself ever so gently onto his elbows, his face pressing into the crook of her shoulder and she gently ran her fingers through his hair as they both breathed deeply as they waited to regain control of their bodies. Eventually both of them evened out and he raised his head to look at her, to find her smirking a little, her eyes twinkling with what looked like humour.

“What?” He managed to ask, his nose sliding against hers.

“I haven’t dry humped since I was about sixteen.” she said closing her eyes again with a smirk.

“Dry humped?” He snorted. “What-“

She laughed “Dry humping, making out, whatever. It’s been a while, Rogers.”

He felt himself chuckle again and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, one of her hands running up and down his spine causing the muscles to gently twitch at her touch, neither of them in a hurry to move, but Steve’s arms were starting to hurt.

“You ok?” Katie looked at him, seeing the tension in his muscles and he nodded.

“Yeah, just, my arms.”

“Lay down.” Her hands moved to his biceps, gently trailing shapes on his skin.

“Doll, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m not made of glass, handsome. I promise you, it’ll be fine.”

Steve licked his lips and with a deep breath he lowered himself down gently, shifting and moving lower, pressing as little of himself to her as he could, despite the fact he could have happily smothered her to feel her body pressed against this. He closed his eyes and lay his head gently on her chest as she carded one hand through his hair, the other softly trailing down his neck and across his shoulders. Her touch was soothing, relaxing, loving even, and h felt himself beginning to doze off.

Katie was also growing sleepy, so she gently kissed his head and whispered a single word to him.

“Stay?”

It was a question to him, an invitation to stay with her that she was desperately hoping he’d take up.

He opened his eyes to blink lazily up at her. “Do you want me to?” he asked, his voice thick.

She nodded, “Let’s go to bed.”

He made to stand before he remembered his trouser predicament having just shot his load into them like a pubescent teenager and stilled, his cheeks flushing even more.

“I uh…I think I need to…”

“There’s some stuff of Tony’s in the spare room.” she said, looking at him cutting him off knowing exactly what the problem was because she was also in need of a clean-up “Should be a pair of sweats in there. Might be a bit short on you but…”

With another soft kiss, he pushed himself up off the couch before offering her his hand. She took it and he pulled her up, a little more forcefully than he had intended and she fell forwards, crashing into his chest.

“Steady on Soldier.” She grinned and he apologised, dropping a kiss to her forehead as his gaze once more dropped to her chest. With a certain glint in her eye she turned around, undid her bra and slipped it off before bending over in front of him, picking up his T-shirt from where she’d tossed it to the floor before heading over to the stairs.

Steve was hard again like it had never left.

After he had cleaned himself up and managed to calm himself down, he thrown on a pair of Tony’s sweatpants retrieved from the spare room and exited the main bathroom, heading to her room. She wasn’t asleep as he found out as he settled down in the bed next to her, and she moved to rest her head on his bare chest tangling her legs into his as his hand stroked her back, gently underneath his T’shirt, light fingers brushing her soft skin.

“This is mine…” He teased with a yawn as he tugged at the bottom of his shirt and she moved laying a soft kiss onto his lips.

“You can have it back tomorrow.” She said, laying her head back down on his chest. As her breathing grew even he felt himself start to drift off too, the warm feeling in his chest made him want to burst with happiness.

*****

When Steve woke the next morning it was peacefully. Katie had shifted positions through the night and now her back was to him pressed as close as she could get, he still had his arms around her, his face buried in her hair. She smelt so familiar and comfortable. As his sleepy brain reminded him of the previous night he smiled and felt a familiar twitch. He was hard, again, which wasn’t uncommon when waking up, but suddenly he felt her stir, and then he realised with horror that she was going to feel him poking her in the back.

It took Katie a few seconds to recall the night before, but when she felt a solid, warm wall of muscle pressed against her, a small hum of contentment rumbled in her throat as she pushed back further into him. They both lay there for a moment, silently, basking in the warmth and softness of each other before Katie turned over and looked up at him. Her face was devoid of any make up, not that she wore a lot anyway, but her freckles were more pronounced, clear skin was bright, cheeks flushed and her hair was tousled in waves around her shoulders. He reached out to tuck a long strand that had fallen over her cheek behind her ears, when she looked up at him, her eyes glinting.

He was about to wish her good morning, but before he could she kissed him, hard and fast, tongue tangling with his. And then she was straddling him, his head against the pillow, as her lips began to trail down his chest. By the time his sleep and lust addled brain had caught up with what was going on, she had reached her destination and had flipped the waist band of the sweats he was wearing down, taking his erection firmly in one hand, making him hiss slightly.

His size had taken Katie slightly by surprise, although she knew with retrospect it shouldn’t have. She looked up and locked eyes with him before she gave him one final smirk and took him in her mouth. Steve panicked for a second, this had never happened to him before, his hands flying to the bed sheets either side of his waist, but it wasn’t for long, as all worry flew out of his mind as she began to work him.

From the noises he was making Katie knew he was enjoying himself. Which was her aim. After a short while, she pulled off of him to suck at the tip and worked her hands over the rest of his length. When she glanced up at him, he had his head thrown back against the pillow, face contorted in utter pleasure. She continued to lick, suck, and when she pulled away slightly to suck at the sensitive tip, working the rest of his length with her hands he let out a loud groan and he looked at her. Her eyes locked onto his and he felt that tell-tale warmth rising in his groin and stomach.

“Katie, sweetheart, shit.” His voice was raspy from desire and the fact it was morning and Katie was beyond aroused at the sound as he babbled the first words either of them had spoken since waking. “I’m gonna-” his words caught in his mouth as she took him in hers again, this time all the way to the back of her throat. At that, he was gone, his fingers gripped her hair tight the other clutched at the bedsheets, noises escaping him that he’d never heard before as he spilled himself down her throat and slumped back completely blissed out.

Katie rolled onto her side watching, as he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her.

“Morning, Handsome.”  She grinned and he felt himself chuckle.

“Morning, Gorgeous.” he said, still fighting to control his breathing.

“You want breakfast?” She asked, leaning over to peck him on the lips. He hummed a response and she smiled once more before climbing out of bed. Steve watched her head into the bathroom and found himself thinking that as far as mornings went, he’d had worse.

She emerged a few moments later, her hair slightly less wild, and she was still in his T-shirt, which fell to midway down her toned thighs, giving him a better look at that intriguing tattoo that adorned her right which he still hadn’t seen in full properly. She flashed him a smile, fully aware he was looking her up and down, and then she left without a word, clearly with no intentions of getting dressed fully yet. Which was fine by him.

Katie turned the radio on and set about making coffee, singing softly to herself as she replaced the filter paper. She tossed in a liberal amount of Columbian Roast and was just pouring two mugs when Steve, who was now out of bed, appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She smiled at him and slid a mug of the coffee over the island where the creamer and sugar already lay waiting and he took it with a thanks.

“How hungry are you?” she asked and he arched an eyebrow over the top of the mug and she gave a laugh. “Sorry, dumbass question. Fancy pancakes and fruit?”

“Don’t got to any trouble, Doll.” He began to protest but she shook her head.

“It’s no bother, I can whip up a batter in five minutes.”

Turning away from him, she reached up into the cupboard for the flour and the T-shirt she was wearing rode up slightly giving Steve a perfect view of her ass which was clad in black lace panties. The fraying tendrils of self-control he had been holding onto snapped completely and stood up from the stool he’d been perched on, right hand still clutching his coffee. He rounded the island in three long strides and placed the mug down on the counter beside her, his hands falling to her hips and he gently spun her to face him. She giggled slightly before his lips met hers and he reached down and cupped her ass in both hands picking her up easily and setting her down on the counter.

“Something got you worked up Captain?” She teased, looking up at him. Last night had clearly unlocked something in the Soldier, and she was liking what she was seeing, and feeling.  

“Yeah, the sight of you wearing nothing but a pair of panties and my t-shirt…” He said raising an eyebrow as he reached for his mug again, taking another drink, trying to play it cool. But it wasn’t working clearly, as she simply laughed and slid both arms around his neck as she leaned in to kiss him again. His free hand slid to her thigh, tracing a path up until, just as he had reached the bottom of her panties, they were interrupted by the sound of the lift doors opening.

“Hey Kiddo, you in?” Steve and Katie exchanged a look, utter horror spreading from Steve’s head to his toes as Tony’s voice hit his ears.

“Kiddo?” he shouted again. “I can smell coffee, you in the kitchen?”

“Shit…” Katie said as she gently pushed Steve backwards, jumping down from the counter, adjusting the T-shirt. Steve was now a shade of crimson pretty much from his neck upwards as he desperately tried to rearrange his pants to hide his once more ebbing arousal. She debated telling Steve to hide in the bedroom but there was no way he’d get across the open plan living space to the stairs without Tony seeing him.

They were well and truly caught.

As she clocked the utter horror on Steve’s face she was suddenly overcome with giggles at how ridiculous the entire situation was. A super soldier and a SHIELD agent, both of them having faught aliens, deadly terrorists and weapons traders, were stood in her kitchen panicking about being busted fooling around by her brother.

“So, the damned board meeting was cancelled which would have been fine had I not already been on the jet over, so I thought seeing as I now in town with nothing to do we could hang for the day or if you’re too busy at least have breakfast…” Tony’s voice was getting louder as he walked through the apartment.

Steve looked at her in utter astonishment as she began to laugh now because frankly he couldn’t think of a single thing that was funny about this situation if he tried. Her laughter didn’t stop even as her brother walked into the kitchen, his brown eyes flashing from his sister to Steve and their various state of undress, a look of utter horror on his face as he processed the implications.

“Oh you have gottta be fucking kidding me…” Tony muttered, dropping the box he was carrying onto the kitchen counter. “Please tell me there’s a perfectly innocent explanation for this…” “Explanation yes, innocent…not so much.” Katie said through her laughter and Steve let out a groan. This was not how he wanted Tony to find out.  “Don’t you know how to buzz Dickwad, before just walking into my apartment?”

“I have a key…” “For emergencies…” she shot back. “Stop changing the subject.” Tony demanded his eyes flashing dangerously and Katie folded her arms and tilted her chin up defiantly.

“Look, this isn’t a big deal, Tony…”

“No, this…this is a very big deal…” he snapped back as he looked from her to Steve, every line on his face was contorted with anger and shock.

Steve took a deep breath and placed his mug down on the side. “Tony…” he began trying to placate the billionaire but he was cut off.

“What, you gonna tell me this aint what it looks like?” he shook his head. “That Captain America isn’t banging my little sister? I might be like nearly 60 years younger than you old man but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Steve took a breath, his nostrils flaring at Tony’s snipe.

“Tony, I’m 29 next week, I can do what or who I like” Katie snapped at him “And besides you’ve no room to talk, the amount of times I’ve walked in on you and whichever bimbo you decided to bring home that night…”

“That is completely different!” Tony spluttered.

“No it isn’t” she shot back, hands going to her hips.

Tony’s eyes locked onto hers, before he looked back at Steve who held his gaze evenly, before the dark haired man shook his head and looked at the super soldier.

“Can you go and put some clothes on please, frankly the amount of flesh on show is disturbing me.” “Well I would but your sister is still wearing my shirt.” Steve shot back, his temper rising. Tony gave another growl and then he stopped, open mouthed.

“Are those my sweats?” He spluttered, his voice practically a squeak.

“Yes.” Katie replied simply, and at that point she grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him out of the room and up the stairs. The initial humour she had found in the situation had ebbed away and now she was livid at her brother.

“He is…” she started, opening the various drawers to pull out a hooded top. Taking Steve’s T-shirt off, as she threw it over the bed to him. “The biggest hypocrite going…”

“To be fair I can kinda see it from his point of view…” Steve said shrugging on his T-shirt and making a point of averting his eyes as she strode over to her dresser, naked bar her panties.

She pulled on a hoody and narrowed her eyes at Steve. “Don’t defend him…”

He chuckled and crossed the room, walking round the bed. “I’m not.” he placed a peck on her lips “But I do think that I should go, let you talk to him alone…”

“Yeah, probably for the best…” she breathed out a sigh and followed him down the stairs where he retrieved his sneakers.

“Wait, do you wanna take my car or…” He gestured up and down his body, and she took in his trainers, slightly too short joggers and a T-shirt “Nah, Baby Girl, I’ll run.” She smiled at the term of endearment that he hadn’t used before then, as he dropped a kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll call you later.” He promised, before disappearing in the elevator.

Katie took a deep breath and walked back into the kitchen. Tony eyed her from where he was leaning against the counter, mug of coffee in his hand.

“Don’t start.” Katie warned him, to no avail

“Oh I’m gonna!” Tony spat, before he paused and looked around “Where is the Star Spangled Ass-hole?”

“Gone home.” Katie folded her arms.

Tony snorted “I bet he has…” “You know I don’t remember me reacting like this every time you brought a girl home, which from my recollection happened quite a lot.” Katie sniped back, as she walked to where he was stood by the coffee pot and reached round him to pour herself a fresh mug.

“That..that was different…” Tony stammered at her back as she walked to the counter for the creamer.

“How so?”

“Because, well, it’s him…” he whined “I mean, seriously? Of all the men in the world…”

“Yeah because the last one worked out so great…” Katie said sarcastically, replacing the carton down with a slightly harsh action, causing some to spill over the top.

The room fell silent bar the chink of the spoon on the edge of her pink unicorn mug as she stirred in sugar and milk. She took a sip of her drink and turned to face her brother who was hunched over the counter slightly, eyes on his mug. Eventually he straightened up and met his sister’s eyes before he spoke again, this time his voice was softer.

“How long?” he asked,

“Three weeks, give or take.”

“Three weeks, and I’m only just finding out?” “Yes, Tony.” she groaned, with the air of someone talking to a small child “And your reaction is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

To be fair, Steve was right. It wasn’t an ideal way for him to find out, but she knew the reaction from Tony wasn’t about her being caught, it was about her being caught with Steve. The two men got on okay, which hadn’t always been the case, but after the battle of New York Steve had spent a lot of time with them both at the tower. Tony was still a little reserved with Steve, more so due to the fact that Captain America was someone their dad had idolised but, whilst the two men were immensely different, there was a mutual respect between them and Katie was hoping now that that was going to be enough for Tony to be reasonable about the situation.

“Please don’t kick off about this. I care about him, a lot.” She said gently, looking at her brother, appealing to his better nature and the fact that she knew he would want her to be happy.

And sure enough, that was exactly what Tony asked as he looked at her.

“Does he make you happy?”

“More than anything.” she replied honestly. “I really like him Tony, I want this to work.”

Tony studied her face for a moment before he let out a deep sigh, looking away. “Damned it.” He groaned “I can’t believe I’m going to have to have the Shovel Conversation with Captain America.”

In the silence that followed Katie debated pointing out that Steve wouldn’t be frightened in the slightest of Tony’s various threats anyway, but who was she to rob her brother of his opportunity to try and protect her?  Instead she placed her mug on the counter and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Tony who sighed again and reciprocated the gesture.

“Suppose he is an improvement on Agent Shitweasel” he said, resting his chin on her head.

“That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement.” she snorted.

*****

Steve was reading a book in his lounge when Katie messaged him later that afternoon. Apparently Tony had calmed down enough to take her for lunch at some Italian place in the Business District following which they’d had a walk round the city together before Tony had left to go back to New York. Steve was pleased, he knew that despite the fact that he drove her insane at times, she loved the bones of her brother which was why his reaction before had pissed her off. He messaged back, telling her he was glad she’d had a good time and that he would call her later before he picked his book back up, but he’d only managed another chapter or so before there was a buzz on his intercom.

“Rogers, it’s me.”

Steve sighed “Come on up.”

He wasn’t surprised Tony was on his doorstep, he’d been half expecting it. And, judging from the lack of stupid nickname, no Spangles, no Capsicle, no Old Man, he wasn’t here to exchange pleasantries. A fact that was confirmed when Stark didn’t wait for Steve to invite him in, he simply pushed past the door into his flat and stalked inside, glancing around.

“You can tell Kiddo helped you decorate and furnish this gaff, far too modern to be your doing. There’s no Dig for Victory posters or wind up radios…” Tony said, causing Steve to roll his eyes “Holy shit, is that an original Dekka?”

“Katie said you’d like that” Steve watched the inventor cross the room and run his hands across the sleekness of the record player’s casing. “But I have a feeling you didn’t come here to admire my music equipment.”

“Perceptive” Tony turned to face him, his eyes flashing. Steve took a deep breath.

“Tony, I…” “No, you don’t get to talk, you get to listen. And you better listen good.” the billionaire cut him off “Katie was heartbroken when Agent Shitweasel did the dirty on her. She came home and I held her as she cried herself to sleep for 2 goddamned weeks before she shipped out to New Mexico… ”

“Tony…”Steve began, knowing already where this conversation was going. He wanted to assure Tony that he would never do what Ward had done, ever. But Tony ignored him.

“I hated him.” Tony said “he was an absolute dickhead with her at times and she changed because of it.  And then, after New York she seemed to go back to being her old self. She was laughing, socialising…and that was down to you” Tony looked at the Super Soldier, who cocked his head slightly to the right as he listened, a small smile tugging at his lips “ She had a friend, something she hasn’t had much time for since my little sioree in an Afghan cave, my bad, and for the first time in ages I can see she’s over it, you know…” he took a deep breath and Steve waited for him to finish “But Katie puts her heart into everything, and I gotta ask Cap, is this serious for you or you just after getting your dick wet?”

“What? No, of course it’s serious for me Tony…” Steve said, his temper flaring slightly at his crass tone. “I can’t believe you think that little of me that you had to even ask me that!”

“Oh get off your high horse, Rogers!” Tony shook his head, and Steve raised his eyebrows “This has nothing to do with what I think of you, this is about my sister…you know the girl I brought up from the age of 7.  The girl I couldn’t love any more if she was my own. I’d die for her you got that? Die for her!”

“Well that makes 2 of us!” Steve said loudly, silencing the other man. There was a moment where no sound was heard in the apartment bar the ticking of the clock on the wall and Tony raised his eyebrows slightly as Steve looked down at the floor taking a deep breath.

“Look, I know you’re not happy about this…” Steve sighed, looking at Tony again “But do I care about her Tony, more than you know, and nothing you do or say to me is gonna change that.”

Tony’s eyes softened, but his jaw remained set. Steve took a deep breath and wet his lips before he continued.  “And, for what it’s worth, I think you did a damned good job of raising her. She’s an incredible woman.”

“She’s a pain in the ass…” Tony sniffed, Steve was glad to hear his tone was less confrontational “And she’s stubborn, always thinks she knows best…”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Steve said cheekily

“Absolutely no idea” Tony deadpanned back.

Steve’s face cracked into a smile as did Tony’s.

“Look.” Tony sighed, “I just want her to be happy and with someone that treats her right…”

“I don’t ever want to hurt her, Tony. You have my word…” Steve said, honestly.

“Good, because if you do, make no mistake I will fucking kill you, slowly and painfully and there will be no defrosting 70 years down the line.” Tony’s brown eyes flashed slightly as he stared at Steve, And Steve knew, absolutely 100% that he meant it. He was surprised to find himself slightly unnerved by the threat. Hoping that his face didn’t give him away her merely nodded and then Tony’s demeanour changed completely and he turned back into the Tony Stark that Steve knew, and had to admit quite liked after all.

“Good, this was a good talk…” Tony said, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

Steve smiled as the weight he hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying was lifted off his shoulder. Having Tony’s, albeit grudging, approval would mean the world to Katie, and if he was honest, it meant a lot to him as well. Not only was Tony his friend also, but he was the closest thing Katie had to a father, and he wanted him to be alright with the fact the two of them were together.

He offered the man a coffee which he politely declined, stating he needed to get back to New York. The two shook hands on the threshold of Steve’s door before Tony gave him one last look, raising his index finger and middle finger of his right hand to his eyes, before turning them to point at Steve in an “I’m watching you” gesture. Steve raised his eyebrows in understanding and felt his mouth tug upwards at the side as Tony turned on his heels and left.

He retreated back to his living room and pulled out his phone.

“Hey Badass” Katie greeted and Steve chuckled.

“I’ve just had a visitor.” Katie groaned into the phone as he sat back on his couch

“Let me guess… my darling brother turned up to give you the shovel talk?” her tone was exasperated. “No mention of a shovel, just threatened to kill me slowly and painfully if I hurt you, and you know what? I have absolutely no qualms about the fact he would.” Steve grinned as he spoke.

“Don’t tell me Captain America is scared of Iron Man?” she questioned playfully. “No, Steve Rogers is slightly disconcerted by Tony Stark.” He corrected as she let out a chuckle.

“Best make sure you don’t hurt me then aint ya?” “I’ve no intentions of doing doll.” He said, honestly before he let out a breath, smiling “I really enjoyed last night.”

“And this morning?”

“Yeah, another first.” He said, unable to stop the smirk on his face spreading into his voice “I’ve never, errr, had a woman use her mouth on me before…or vice versa for that matter.”

“I like being your first.” she said softly and his chest warmed at her words.

“You know what else was a first? Waking up next to my girl.”

There was a pause before she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“And you know what else I like? You calling me your girl.”

A shit eating grin crept back across the Captains face. “Well, you better get used to it, Doll.”

**** Chapter 7

**Original Posting**

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

veracity - v. dunn

As promised, here’s one of our many resident himbos, Vince Dunn, in “I didn’t realize wer were dating.” As I’m sure a lot of other writers have experienced lately, reblogs have definitely been down, so I would love it if you’d give a reblog if you like it. I also read the tags! Alternately, feel free to keysmash in my inbox or let me know what your favorite parts were. 

word count: 4.9k+

warnings: light sexual content (brief)

Aly Kalinski had never bothered leaving her home town. Why would she? She loved St. Louis. She was born there, went to public schools in the city, and barely moved ten miles away from home for her art degree at SLU. For all its faults, she loved her city. Aly met Vince her sophomore year of college, an accidental run-in at her favorite sandwich shop that had turned into a friendship that had turned into a relationship. So it was a no-brainer decision for Aly to stay once she graduated, getting a position teaching middle and high school art at a school in the suburbs and a loft in downtown. She didn’t want to leave her parents, or her city. Or Vince. 

They had just gotten together, and it really hadn’t come as a surprise to anyone but them. Her older sister rolled her eyes when Aly told her, saying that “it was only a matter of time. You two practically act like an old married couple already.” Her parents were shocked even less. Vince’s teammates had actually been some of the biggest perpetrators in the first place, not-so-subtly leaving them in rooms together at parties and encouraging Aly to admit the feelings she wasn’t even sure she had until a few months ago. But it had happened organically, so naturally that Aly really couldn’t even put a pin on the point where their friendship had turned into romance. All she knew was that she was falling hard for Vince Dunn, and for once in her life, she wasn’t trying to stop herself. 

September

Clashing teeth and her hands running through his hair and his fingernails digging into the backs of her thighs was all Aly felt as Vince held her up against the door. “Vin, bedroom,” Aly gasped, pulling away for air. 

“Mhm,” he said absentmindedly, his lips trailing kisses down the column of her neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. He walked backwards into his room, dropping her down on the bed. She fumbled with the buttons on her shirt as he frantically pulled his belt off. God, it had been too long since they had touched each other. Vince had only recently returned to St. Louis for training camp and the start of pre-season, but he had been so exhausted from drills and scrimmages that all he could manage on nights they got together was curl into Aly’s side with some take out and turn on reruns of Kitchen Nightmares. She had visited him in Toronto for two weeks in July and August — it didn’t always work out so perfectly, but she was thankful that teaching meant most of her summers were free — and they had obviously had sex while they were there, but she had been missing it more than she wanted to admit. Missing him. 

So when they went out to a downtown bar with the rest of the team to celebrate the end of training camp, and Aly didn’t have work the next day, they were both more than happy to indulge in a little liquid courage. Which meant a couple of  drinks and a few more flirty touches later and the pair made their excuses to the rest of the group, Vince pulling up his Uber app before they were even out the door. And they weren’t exactly subtle about it  — Sammy had definitely shouted “USE PROTECTION” while Vince threw him a middle finger  — but they they needed each other too much to really give a fuck. 

Vince trailed his fingers up her now-bare sides, the clasp of her bra falling open with a well-practiced flick. Aly palmed him over his jeans, trying half-heartedly to reverse their positions. Vince groaned. “Not tonight, baby. I need you.” Well, it’s not like she was going to argue with that. Her leggings came off in record time. His jeans followed. Aly dropped her head into the crook of his neck as he slid into her. God, they could do this a million times and she’d never get used to how good he felt. “You’re fuckin’ incredible, Aly, you know that?” Vince gasped out. 

She pressed a kiss onto his shoulder. “You might've mentioned it once or twice, but feel free to keep going, Dunn,” she said. 

He quickened his pace. “I will.” Ten minutes and two orgasms later, she was wrapped in Vince’s arms, trying to savor every last moment before she had to get up and use the bathroom. “I meant what I said, you know?” Vince said, one hand carding through her hair. “You really are incredible, Aly. And when we’re together…” He paused, searching for the right words. 

“There’s only a few things in my life that have always come easy. Hockey, never being able to say no to ice cream, and you. I never feel like I have to be anyone other than exactly who I am when I’m with you, and I don’t know if you know just how meaningful that is for me. I need it, and I need you.” Aly smiled, turning over and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. This was the closest he’d gotten so saying he loved her, and she’d take it. 

January

Aly sipped her champagne, her eyes surveying the downtown St. Louis ballroom where she found herself on a Saturday evening. Her free hand fingered with the sequin-adorned cloth of her dress, brushing up against the thigh-high slit. It wasn’t something she would have ever bought for herself, but she loved it. It caught the light like nothing she’d ever seen and Vince’s jaw had nearly fallen off the second he saw her when he picked her up for the gala. He had bought it for her, too, insisting that if he had invited her the least he could do was spare her the expense of going out and buying one on her own.

Her job paid well for a teacher, especially one in their first few years, but she wasn’t about to complain when Vince gave her his card and sent her into the shopping district to find a dress for the night. He had told her to get something stunning, and she had delivered in spectacular fashion. It was the Blues’ big fundraising gala for the year, an annual charity event to benefit the children’s hospital. Essentially, the night was an opportunity to party on the team’s dime while wining and dining Midwestern elite in a bid to get them to open up their checkbooks. It was something that Alexandra Kalinski was proving surprisingly adept at; even though she didn’t have nearly the rapport with some of the businessmen and philanthropists as most of the players and their partners did, she was able to turn on the same “teacher” charm she used on back-to-school nights, lay the accent on a little thicker than she usually would, and tug at the heartstrings of multi-millionaires with a story of a seventh grader in one of her intro painting classes who had been treated for leukemia in the hospital’s oncology ward. They couldn’t write the checks fast enough. 

But Aly found herself at the bar a few hours in, next to Sammy as Vince smooth-talked someone she vaguely recognized as an exec for the Cardinals. Transitioning from friendship to being a couple, at least in regards to their social lives, had been much easier than she had thought. It had all just been so natural that people probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it hadn’t been for the looks she gave him, or her now-permanent spot on the “good chair” in the family box — that everyone else claimed was too lumpy but Aly swore up and down was the most comfortable place in the whole room  — or the time Colton had walked in on them hooking up in a supply closet at the Enterprise Center during a wine tasting with season ticketholders. But she had loved everything in their relationship so far, loved how welcoming all of the other WAGs were and how happy everyone had been for them when they finally got together. “God, it was about time,” Sammy had said. 

She could see that the person Vince was talking to had started making his way over to the reception table, where all the donations were being collected, and caught his eye just as he was being swept into yet another conversation. Vince liked people, there was no doubt about it, and he loved being able to help out a cause as incredible as the children’s hospital, but after almost four hours of schmoozing and small talk it was beginning to take a toll on even him. Aly gave him a tiny nod, a signal that anyone else probably would have missed, but one that Vince understood instantly. She was coming to get him. Alexandra was by his side in thirty seconds flat, her hand resting between his shoulder blades while she smiled apologetically to the man across from them. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got a headache and have had a bit too much to be driving myself home. Would you mind taking me?” 

Vince nodded, trying to keep his enthusiasm dampened. “Of course, babe. No problem.” He gave the businessman his best PR smile. “Sorry to have to leave so abruptly, but duty calls. Thank you so much for coming out tonight and supporting such a great cause, it really means a lot to me and the whole team.” With a perfunctory handshake, they began heading towards the exit, his hand gripping hers as they wove through the crowd. “Thanks for that, Aly,” he said as he opened up the passenger door for her. “I really was running on empty there.”

She smiled softly back at him. “Always.”

May 

Vince’s arm was draped casually over the back of Aly’s chair, his fingertips dancing over her shoulder. She was beaming up at the couple under the flower-covered wedding chuppah at the end of the aisle, leaning into Vince’s side. Her cousin Olivia was getting married, her and her soon-to-be wife Yara had been together for years and had finally decided to take the next step. When she got the invitation four months earlier, she hadn’t hesitated to invite Vince as her plus one. They had been dating for a little under a year by that point, but seeing as how most of her family was local — some of her mom’s family was in Wisconsin, but nobody really aside from that — he had already met everyone important. 

The ceremony went by in the blink of an eye, Yara and Olivia broke the glasses, and everyone began milling over towards the barn for the reception. Olivia and Yara had already met Vince some six months before, and had immediately taken to each other. The brides came over to their table after thanking everyone for coming, and dinner was served. She had never seen anyone eat as many dinner rolls in one sitting as Vince did.

---

“Alexandra!��� Aly heard an excited voice from the other corner of the room over the cacophony of the music, and barely turned her head quickly enough to see who had called her name before she was pulled into a warm hug. 

Aly laughed when she saw who it was. “Nice to see you, Aunt Ruth. Aunt Ruth, this is Vince. Vince, this is my Aunt Ruth,” Aly said, gesturing to the woman across from them. 

Vince held out his hand, but Ruth waved it off. “We’re huggers here, Vince. She brought you to the wedding. You’re practically family.” She raised her eyebrows at the couple. “When’s it going to be your turn, hm?” 

Aly groaned. “Aunt Ruuuth.” 

Ruth shrugged. “I’m just saying. Your bubbe’s not getting any younger, and I’m sure she’d love to see some of her grandchildren with kids of their own.” 

“How about we, uh, get off of that subject,” Aly said, her cheeks burning. “That’s up to this one, after all,” she said, patting Vince on the arm. Vince ducked his head, understanding the grip of Aly’s hand on his arm as I love this woman but I swear to God if you don’t get me out of here I think I might combust.

He smiled apologetically to the older woman, feigning a glance at his watch. “The ceremony was amazing, Ruth, but I think I’ll have to be taking Aly home now. We’ve got early breakfast plans tomorrow and I’m sure you know how this one gets when she doesn’t get a full night of sleep.” Aly squeezed his hand in appreciation. 

“Of course,” Ruth said, smiling at the pair. She winked as they turned towards the door. “But think about it.” 

Aly ran her hand through her hair as soon as they turned the corner into the dirt parking lot. “Thanks for that, Vin. We don’t have breakfast plans, though?” 

Vince shrugged, an impish smile on his face. “Guess we do now.”

October

“I bought that tea you like,” Vince said from his spot on the couch. “I didn’t want you to be over here while you’re looking after Henry and run out.” Henry was Vince’s rottweiler, a rambunctious eleven month old that he had adopted at the middle of last season. 

Aly smiled as she opened the cupboard, seeing her prized brand of Irish Breakfast next to his favorite type of coffee. “Thanks for that, Vin.” 

He shrugged as the corner of his mouth twitched. “Don’t mention it.” 

The Blues were about to leave for their first real road trip of the year, and it was an unspoken agreement by this time in their relationship that Aly would stay over at his apartment while he was away. Early on in the relationship, she’d just stop by a few times a week to water his plants, and then he got a few fish, and then Henry came along. It didn’t take much convincing from Vince for Aly to agree to look after them; Henry loved her almost as much as he did Vince, and getting to see him before and after school helped to curb some of the loneliness she felt in Vince’s absence. 

She turned down the hallway, taking her bag into his bedroom. He had a guest room that would have been just as convenient to stay in, but she had grown used to the feel of his sheets and liked having the ensuite bathroom. Plus, she had already not-so-subtly taken over one of the drawers in his dresser. Her bag had the jeans, button downs, and blouses she’d need for work — her school mostly adhered to a smart casual dress code, plus she was an art teacher — but there were plenty of sleep shirts, underwear, and leggings in the dresser. If push came to shove, she also wasn’t above stealing Vince’s old sweatshirts. He always said she looked better in them anyways. 

Even when Vince was back in town, she slept over enough for it to make sense for her to have a space of her own; it just wasn’t practical for her to have to drive fifteen minutes to her apartment and back again just to grab a shirt if she wanted to spend the night after a movie date ran long. They hadn’t broached the conversation of moving in together yet, though. It was something that had crossed Aly’s mind, and if she knew Vince as well as she thought she did, he had thought about it too. But she wasn’t in a hurry to break her lease and he hadn’t said anything about it, so she had decided to let sleeping dogs lie. 

She tucked her bag into the corner of his closet, padding into the bathroom and closing the door. She cursed herself as she pulled down her shorts, realizing that her period had started and, conveniently, her purse was out in the living room. Biting her lip, Aly decided to rummage around in the vanity, praying to God that she’d left something from the last time. It wasn’t like she thought Vince would be weird about it if she asked him to bring her something from her purse; he never had been before, even when she had bled through a pair of his sweats one night staying over. “Not a big deal,” he had said, shrugging and tossing them in the washing machine. “I needed to do laundry anyway.” But she’d rather not ask if she didn’t have to. She crossed her fingers as she pulled out the last drawer, her head turning to the side in confusion as she saw an unopened box of tampons. Her eyes softened in realization. He had bought them without her ever having to ask. 

January 

It was bye week for the Blues, which meant everyone who hadn’t been picked for the All Star Team suddenly had an extra week in the middle of the season and nothing to do to fill it. Or, rather, had a week in the middle of the season and had to find something to do to fill it. In Vince and Aly’s case, that something turned out to be a trip to the Bahamas with some of his teammates and their wives. It had been a no-brainer for him to invite Aly; everyone else was bringing their partners and Vince knew she had a few vacation days saved up from work. They had been planning it for months, Aly having requested the time off as soon as she was able, and had blissfully traded in the chilly winters of Missouri for a balmy week on the shores of Nassau.

Vince had wanted to go to Iceland originally, half to do with the hiking and half to do with the ponies he saw in a National Geographic article as a kid, but one Google search from Sammy led them to the unfortunate realization that being so far north, there were only about six hours of daylight each day and the temperature topped out in the mid 30s. Vince looked a little deflated when he read the forecast. “Don’t worry,” Aly had said, squeezing his arm in reassurance. “We can go in June, after school lets out and before you head home for the summer. I’ve heard amazing things about their hot springs.” Sammy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Aly hit his shoulder. 

But the Bahamas were proving to be one of the most beautiful places she had ever been. “Better than home?” he asked as they lay stretched out on the sand while they watched the sun dip below the horizon. 

She scrunched her nose at him. “Unfair comparison. St. Louis is hovering around freezing and perpetually covered in a layer of slush this time of year. And, to be fair, it’s an endearing layer of slush and I love it. But right now I think I’d rather be where it’s 75º and sunny and I can lay outside looking hot as hell in a bikini without worrying about freezing my tits off.” 

Vince choked on his rum punch. “Worried about that, are you?” 

Aly shrugged. “I’d rather deal with a sunburn. Which, speaking of,” she glanced over at Vince, “you’re looking a little red. Don’t worry, though. I’ve got as much aloe vera as I could pack in a single quart bag. Would have tried to sneak in a whole bottle, but didn’t want the feds after me.” 

Vince laughed, a whole body laugh that all but consumed him for a few moments, before pulling Aly in to rest against his chest. “I’m really happy you came, Aly. You know that, right?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? All-expenses paid trip to the Carribean with you and our friends, getting to hang out on the beach all day and drink cocktails without having to worry about driving home after?” 

Vince gasped in mock offense, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her waist coming to clench at his heart. “You’re killing me here, Aly! You mean to tell me this whole time you’ve only been using me for my money? I expected more from you.” 

“Not just your money, Vin,” she giggled, settling into his touch. “I tried to pay for my share of the expenses, you wouldn’t have it. But seriously, I do really love it here. It’s gorgeous, and so peaceful, and there’s really not anything I think we could do to make it better. I love you, Vince Dunn.” 

“I love you too, Aly Kalinski.” 

April 

“One sec, I’ve got to go grab something,” Vince said, smiling at Aly as he pushed his chair back from the table. It was the day after he had come home from a two week road trip, and he had invited her over for dinner, told her to dress nice, and made what actually turned out to be a very respectable dinner of ravioli and roasted vegetables. 

She nodded as her heart started to pound faster and faster, coming to a peak when she thought her chest was going to burst as Vince returned from the bedroom, turning a blue velvet box over in his hands. “I know it might seem unexpected, but I saw this the other day while I was downtown with Sammy and I don’t know, just somehow knew you were meant to have it. Knew it was meant to be yours. Something I hope you’ll see as a sign of how much I love and care about you and how even though we might not always physically be together, you’re the person I trust most in this life.” 

He slid the box across the table to Aly, who opened it with shaking hands. Inside was a silver necklace with a pendant of an olive tree on it. It was absolutely gorgeous — and Vince was right, very her — but it was not what she had been expecting.

Aly snorted, burying her face into her hands. “Oh my God, I’m going to have to call my mom.” 

Vince was confused. “Why?” 

Aly rolled her eyes. “I told her I was coming over here for dinner and you told me to dress nice. She thought you were going to propose.” 

“Propose?” Vince asked, dumbfounded. “Why would I propose?” 

She tried to wave him off, but Vince could see the shimmer of hurt behind her eyes. “I mean, we’ve been together for almost two years. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.”

“Together?” He looked over at her. “For two years?” 

“Yeah?” she said slowly, thinking he had forgotten their anniversary. “Come June, two years.” 

Vince swallowed hard as it began to dawn on him, looking down at his hands. “Together...She thinks we’ve been together for,” he looked up at the ceiling, “twenty-one months.” 

“You keep repeating that word, babe. Together. What’s confusing about it?” Aly said, giving him a weird look.  

God, how was he supposed to tell her? “I didn’t know we were together. Are together? Let alone that your mom was expecting a proposal.” 

Aly’s blood ran cold. “Let me get this straight,” she said, pausing. “You didn’t know we’re together? What did you think we’ve been doing for almost two years?” 

“Being really good friends?” 

She shook her head. “Why did you tell me to dress up when I came over, then? Why did you make dinner?”

He fixed his eyes on a chip in the coffee table. “I knew you’d been having a rough week and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“What about the vacation?” She questioned.

He shrugged helplessly. “Everyone else was going in couples, and you’re my best friend down here regardless.” 

“Me coming to all the games? Sitting up in the box?” 

“You’ve become friends with all the WAGs, and I love having you there to support me,” he tried. 

“The sex?” Aly asked incredulously. 

Vince winced. Okay, that  one was a little harder to explain away. “I just always thought that we were both single, both hot, both too busy to get into relationships. Each other’s best options.” 

God, Aly felt like a fucking fool. She felt like she’d been played, because in a weird, sort of twisted way, she had. “You said you thought it was because we’re both too busy to be in relationships now. But Vince, I know you have no think energy out your ears, but I need you to concentrate for a minute. Think about most couples you know. They get together a few times a week if they don’t live together. We do that.” He nodded. 

“They have a drawer or a part of a closet at each other’s places, they look after each other’s plants and dogs when they’re out of town. We do that. They become friends with each other’s friends, they visit each other’s families, they take weekend trips together and fly to the Bahamas with friends when they have a week off. We did that.” She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “They dance around in the kitchen together and make love and go to the zoo at least once a month because I love seeing the otters. They comfort each other when they’re at their worst, encourage each other at their best. You said you didn’t have time for a relationship, but you didn’t realize that that’s what we’ve been doing, Vince.” 

Now it was Vince’s turn to be struck speechless. Aly wasn’t meeting his eyes. And honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He turned to look at her, but she had stood up abruptly from the couch, pacing nervously as she slowly made her way to the door. “I, uh, I think I should go,” she said, looking down at her hands. 

Vince stood up, taking a half step towards her before deciding that it was best to give her space. “No, Aly, you don’t have to go. We can talk. I think —”

“No, I think. I think you don’t feel the same way, and I’ve been misreading things for two years. And that’s fine, I can’t force you to fabricate feelings that aren’t there, so um. I’ll go,” Aly said, shaking her head stiffly. She opened the door and shut it, and Vince was suddenly stuck in the loudest silence he’d ever heard. It was like he couldn’t move for a minute, as if all of his muscles were paralyzed, and then he came back to reality. Aly had only been gone for maybe a minute at most, but it felt like an hour. 

Vince bolted out of the door, not even bothering to lock it, running straight past the elevator. Stairs would be quicker. He caught her just as she was exiting the front door, one of her hands coming up to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “Aly!” Vince called. She hesitated for a moment but kept walking. Vince ran across the lobby, not even caring about his complete lack of shoes. “Aly! Wait up, please.” 

She turned around, eyes watering, and sighed, walking over towards one of the chairs with a defeated look on her face. She didn’t even sit down, just perched on the arm like she wasn’t quite comfortable with actually settling in, like she needed to be able to up and leave at any given moment. “Please, Vince. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. I’m not mad at you for not feeling the same way, it wouldn’t be fair of me and people can’t control their feelings, but I feel like a fucking idiot right now. Like I spent so long misreading all sorts of signs and signals and words —”

“What if you didn’t?” Vince asked breathlessly. 

Aly looked startled. “What do you mean?”

“What if you didn’t misread anything, Aly? What if you didn’t have to be mad at me for not feeling the same way, because I do?”

Aly sunk into the chair, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she had left his apartment. “Then why...Why did you not say anything? How did you not know we were in a relationship?”

Vince ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “Because I thought that’s all you were going to give me. And if that was it, that was enough for me,” he smiled sadly. “I thought everything, the sex and the wedding and the Bahamas, was just me being a good friend and you needing a stress relief and someone who’d always be in your corner. I never knew this was supposed to be a relationship. I didn’t think you wanted anything serious. And I had resigned myself to that, come to terms with only getting stolen kisses on late nights and early-morning coffee runs before you had to head to school. If I only got you halfway, I was okay with it, because I love you and that was better than nothing.” 

“You what?” Aly’s breath caught in her throat. 

“I love you,” Vince said. It was the easiest thing he had ever admitted. Because it was true. 

He had told her he loved her before, but as Aly searched his face, she could tell that he meant it in a different way. In the way she always wanted him to. “You love me?” she asked, voice cracking. 

Vince nodded. “I do. I’m in love with you. And you don’t know how good that feels to admit.”

Aly gave an airy laugh, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear before Vince had a chance to get it for her. “I think I might.”

“I’ve just got one question, though,” Vince asked. 

“Which is?” 

He cracked a smile. “You’re not going to make us change our anniversary date, are you? It would be pretty weird to explain to everyone and I really don’t want Aunt Ruth to find out and show up at my door to chase me around with a chainsaw.”

Aly giggled, leaning over and placing an exhilarated kiss against his lips. “No.”

[monsoonblooms12]

In Sunshine & In Shadow: Chapter 1-Love & Laughs

Summary of the Series: Let's set out on the walk of life. Pack up for embarking on an adventure of a lifetime with our favourite residents. A series of love, friendship and travel. It is all about fuelling your wanderlust❤️

In this chapter: Pooja and Ethan spend some cute moments and the talk of the trip begins.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a long time as I figured out the storylines I wanted to do for the various pairings. Now that I have planned everything, I can finally start posting. This chapter is Poo & E. We meet the others in the next chapter💛

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕

Thank you so much @jamespotterthefirst for prereading. Love you💛💛

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 2.2K

Rating: General

Prompt :- @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 6: Sonder

Derry Roasters was abuzz with enthusiasm, but it didn't seem to act on her. To her, it felt like someone had turned the hourglass of her life, let the sand flow and forgot to turn it back. Her time had stopped there on its tracks.

Around her, people rushed through their day, not waiting for anyone. She felt like the still picture amidst a fast-motion video. Sonder was the word Pooja would use to describe the way she felt. Sonder, for her, is Surprise and Wonder intertwined in a single word. Wonder, at how life changes every minute of every moment. And Surprise at how, even after so many afflictions, tribulations, one will find the happiness that destiny had in store for them.

The thoughts in her mind swirled and asked for all her cognizance. Transfixing her mind in them, she let her emotions engulf her with leaden steps.

Ting Ding Ding

Pooja's eyes tardily broke contact with the empty bone china coffee mug as she picked up her phone.

Brookline Rejuvenate sent you an email.

But for her, it manifested being a testament that all of it was happening.

That she was not tumbling around in an atrocious daydream, which would vanish the instant, she fluttered her orbs agape.

Yes.

Edenbrook, the nonpareil hospital in the entire States, was closing down.

Every day of operating there, felt like she was relishing in the will-o'-the-wisp of her aspirations.

The thoughts of Edenbrook made her mind travel to the day when it all began. The elegant calligraphy on the envelope with the Cerulean and Lime Green Logo that bore her name. The message that turned her life upside down forever.

Then the Diagnostics Team. The extreme cases they had solved. They saw its end too. They were working their free hours at the free clinic or in the ER. Everything, every day, seemed to rush around her.

The days seemed to fly past, and so did the time remaining for Edenbrook.

Everyone had started looking up places to carry on with their medical careers & residencies. But no one wanted to leave Edenbrook before it closed down. They wanted to cherish every day before the ticking clock struck midnight and supply the last of their best healthcare to as many people as possible.

The thought of leaving everything behind was painful for Pooja. You are taking away the most valuable of things, she convinced herself. You are taking away memories. Beautiful memories. Painful memories.

But there was another nagging thought that piqued her time and again.

The Gala was everything she ever imagined. But the most memorable of the moments was The Kiss. He had kissed her.

In front of everyone.

Her mind went to the embedding touches Ethan left on her that night.

Now, as Edenbrook's time came to an end, and she planned about the rest of her residency, she thought of her and Ethan's relationship.

Were they meant to be? Were all those feather-light touches, the kisses in the rain, the tears they shed together, going to end in vain? Were their lives only connected till here?

Was it the beginning of the end?

"You're here."

You will live a hundred years, Ethan Ramsey.

Tearing away from the colossal reticulation of her thoughts, she turned towards him. His summery blues, meeting her ambers.

"Hey You"

Ethan came over and sat in front of her.

"You didn't tell me you were coming here. I had to ask Alex and Sienna to know about your whereabouts."

Pooja let out a tiny laugh. "Whereabouts? You are making me feel like a criminal."

Ethan chuckled. "If so, then you would be the most beautiful criminal I have ever seen."

This made Pooja giggle harder. "You are talking as if you have met hundreds of criminals."

"I will never win any debate with you. So let's just...let it be?"

"Accepting Defeat, Dr. Ramsey?"

"If it makes you smile that, then I will always accept defeat for you."

A blush crept up her neck as she said, "Okay, too much. Now stop"

Ethan let out a last chuckle as his order arrived. A Vienna, a coffee and black forest cake for him and a butterscotch one for her.

Taking her piece in hand, Pooja said, "All I need is you."

"Hey, what about me?"

"Ah, you know you can never win the battle against this" She held up the cake.

"You're ridiculous."

A subtle tee-hee, and they were surrounded with a perfect silence as they got lost in each other's world.

A world where all the hustle-bustle inundating them evaporated. There were no questions asked, no side looks given, and no stops in the world of their love. In this world, their coffee, cake and their memories were their sole companions.

There were no catechisms, no side looks given, and no obstructions in the world of their love.

"So…umm..." Ethan began.

"Yeah?"

Oh, C'mon Ramsey, it is obvious that you have fallen real deep for her! Alex's usual tease came ringing in his ears.

Oh Lexandra, why don't you leave me alone?

But she is right.

Ugh! Since when did The Ethan Ramsey, the man who could make an intern tremble with fear, start to fumble?

He took a deep breath, centred himself and began again.

"Can we go on a tour? With all of your friends or the Invincibles as you all ridiculously like to call yourselves.

"Wait. You Remember That?"

"How can I forget when you are singing the name in front of me every 10 minutes or so?"

"Or maybe you need a membership to the Invincibles? Which, I should make clear, you are not getting."

"You are ridiculous-"

"-ly smart. Ya, I know, Thank you very much. And speaking of the trip, I would go on a trip at any time, anywhere, you don't need to ask. Just tell. I will be ready in 10 minutes."

"You know I am not talking about a trip from here to Brookline. We could go on, you know, an international tour. To a place of your choices."

Pooja's face became Stoic, expressionless. A sudden flurry of anxiousness spread through Ethan's Heart.

Then he remembered. A tip Alex had given him "free of cost" as she would like to say, a few days back.

"Anytime you are asking Poo to go on a trip to one of her favourite places, just count till five after placing your point."

"Five? Why?"

"Just do as I say, and you will see for yourself" Alex winked and left.

So he did.

One, He saw Pooja's eyes widen a bit.

Two, Her Amber eyes were full of joy and excitement.

Three, A light blush and the faint dimple on her left cheek appeared, adding a shimmer to her beauty.

Four, Her lips crept up in a faint smile.

Five, Her face and expression fully express-

"YAY! YAY! YAY!" Her cheer came along which earned her side-glances from the other customers. But who cares when it's an international trip you are talking about?

Of course, Ethan thought, Lexandra was right.

"That is a Thantastic idea!!!"

"I am sorry, but Thantastic?" Ethan couldn't help but chuckle. She was a source of his never-ending amusement.

"Gawd Thanie! Thantastic is just an Ethan version of Fantastic. Duh!"

She bent over the table.

Deceiving him to think that she was going to kiss him. In front of the entire coffee shop.

Only for her to smack his forehead lightly and comedically.

Since when did you become a sappy idiot like that? Ethan mentally ridiculed himself.

"Stop making a comedy show out of me in front of the entire coffee shop."

"Stop acting comedically, and I will stop too" Pooja shrugged and flashed that one dimpled smile that he had come to be a fan of

The things the girl does to me! And I thought love didn't exist. Even Ethan's mind was satirizing him.

The snap of two fingers brought him back from Ethan-land to the Derry Roasters, Boston, Massachusetts.

"I thought Ethan-land doesn't exist. Glad to be proven wrong." Pooja's mocking giggle was a melody he wanted to record on a vinyl and play on a record player time and again.

He thought of presenting a counter-argument.

You still won't win.

So instead of wasting his energy in vain, he decided to save it for later.

"Hmm. Coffee done. Now let's head home. We will ask them to pack the cakes."

"Buy a few more."

"Hmm?"

"You know trip planning? And I am pretty sure I said that you can bring along your fri-"

"I think you mean The Invincibles?" Pooja cut him off, cocking her right eyebrow.

"Whatever." Rolling his eyes, Ethan didn't let his amusement seep through his features.

They both got up. Ethan bought a bunch of cakes while Pooja giggled, nearly tripped and sprained her left ankle lightly, and finally succeeded in texting her mates to join them for trip-ing plan.

When Ethan came out of the coffee shop, hands full, he saw her slight limping as she walked towards their car.

Shaking his head, and having a mental peal of laughter because of her clumsiness, he went to the car. Opening the rear door, he kept all the goodies on the back seat.

Then he turned towards Pooja. She still had all of her attention transfixed in reading something fascinating on her phone. She didn't even notice him.

In a quick motion, he went up to her, and before she could process the whole thing, picked her up bridal style and seated her in the front passenger seat.

The next minute, he was behind the wheel and was driving them home. More specifically, The condo of the Invincibles.

Mental eye-roll.

"Ahem, Ahem"

Of Course. She was yet to speak something.

"So what are you now, Super Ramsey? Picking me up in the middle of the pathway?"

"You were limping, Poo."

"You know I can manage myself just fine."

He stopped the car. The condo was still a block away.

"Why did you stop? This is not where we live. You know that."

Ethan turned towards her and caressed her cheek softly.

She melted into his touch. Her eyes closed momentarily, her beautiful eyes and alluring shadowy eyelashes reflecting the serenity her heartfelt.

"Poo. I know you are a strong, independent woman. You like to be self-dependent."

He paused a short breath. Taking her hand in his and kissing the top of it, he continued,

"But I cannot see you hurt, be it a slight limp or a broken arm. I will always take care of you."

"I know you will. You always do. But a limp, a broken arm is faint compared to what I have been through. You don't need to worry about me all the time."

"I will always worry about you."

"Eth-"

He placed a finger on her lips. "No more ifs, or buts. It is something I wanna do. Not something I have to do."

And with a look of assurance and care, Ethan started to drive again. His features were calm, his blue eyes had hues of red and golden of the traffic in front of them.

The unsaid string of words that dangled between the two of them was what had tied them together so strongly. Which made him believe she was meant to be his and her to believe that he was meant to be hers.

Pooja waited for that day, impatiently, when he would be hers and she, his. Angst in fiction was her love, but angst in her real life? Not really. At least, not with Ethan Ramsey.

Stop being melodramatic.

She snapped at herself.

It took them an additional five minutes to reach the condo. Once there, Ethan was the first one to get out of the car. Pooja followed. She stood next to Ethan, who was now taking out the pastry boxes.

His senses called out to him, informed him of her presence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the exact spot where she stood.

Then, as if it was a second nature to him, he swept her towards him by the waist and kissed her in four steps.

First, He kissed her dimpled cheek, earning a gasp from her.

Then, he kissed her forehead and left silent praises for her heart to hear.

Third, His suck on her neck felt like the touch of a feather to her.

And Lastly, His soft pink lips meet her rosy moist ones, full of passion and a love so pure that threatened to overpower their senses.

Slowly, he turned her around in the rhythm of a dance, and hugging her from the back, he sensually pulled at the tip of her ear as his soft words warmed her heart.

"Shall we?"

Not what she wanted to hear, but the feels in her heart didn't let her feel disappointed.

"Of Course." A reply she made with an unvoiced wish that the next time he kisses her like he did today, he says those words which will make her, his forever.

PS: Here's to hoping that this was not an utter mess and you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading and have a good day ahead🧡

Tags (Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!) :@bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey  @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage  @drariellevalentine @mvalentine ​ @aestheticartsx ​@angela8754​ @schnitzelbutterfingers ​ @ao719 ​ @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis ​ @arnikki-2406 ​ @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight

[sparkkeyper]

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Word Count: 3,797

Warnings: None    

Summary: Old habits die hard. Crowley and Aziraphale’s habits are very, very old. Building their own side is difficult when 6000 years of instincts won’t shut up. 

(Originally very loosely-based on the song "Baby, It's Cold Outside" but then it kind of did its own thing, haha. I was originally going to post this for Advent  Omens but uhhh you can see that didn’t quite happen. Written as ace but you can read it however you want, really. Guess what fools, it’s Soft Boi hours again!)

(Now on AO3!)

-----------

The snow had started early in the day. When Aziraphale arrived at the Mayfair flat it was just a dusting. But the flurry had become a proper snowfall, and then quickly decided 'go big or go home' and transitioned into a flat-out storm.

This didn't phase the two immortals in the slightest, of course. If anything, the swirling flakes outside made it feel even cozier inside. Crowley's sleek, minimalist flat had grown a fireplace for the occasion, and a very surprised new chimney on the roof of the building found itself venting smoke that somehow managed to bypass three floors.

They sat together on the plush sofa (obtained at Aziraphale's insistence several months prior, on the grounds that he wasn't going to continue coming over if there was nowhere comfortable to sit, and Crowley couldn't have that) and drank wine and talked and laughed and reveled in the feeling of being cozy and warm on a cold, blustery day.

Time had traveled on in the usual manner since Armageddon failed to happen. The two of them were unwinding slowly. Thousands of years of looking over shoulders did not evaporate in an evening, benevolent Antichrist or no, and 'our side' was a concept they were still carefully exploring. But what a glorious exploration it was.

There was no limit to the amount of time they could spend together. It was a dizzying concept that they were both adjusting to, but one that carried a thrill through it all the same. Crowley had been sorely tempted to buy tickets to every concert, play, and musical revue London had to offer and do nothing but attend shows for the foreseeable future, the two of them together. In public. He very well might have done too, if Aziraphale hadn't talked him down amid giddy chuckles. "We have time," Aziraphale had reminded him, and Crowley was ecstatic to realize that it was true.

He had relented to two a week.

It was elating. They stood closer together, they sat beside each other on public transportation rather than one behind the other, they gave each other teasing nudges with elbows.

And sometimes - when they were both at least a bottle in - one of them might even bump their hand against the other's, and fingers might intertwine, and an electric tingle would flood Crowley like a live thing, and most importantly neither would pull away for at least two solid minutes and oh wasn't that alone worth saving the world for?

Crowley spent a previously-unheard-of amount of time at the bookshop and Aziraphale's face always lit up like the sun whenever he walked in. He arrived early, stayed late, sometimes didn't bother going home at all, often showed up with wine or snacks, and they were together and it was wonderful. He had fallen asleep on the bookshop couch in the past, but these months he got the impression that Aziraphale had zoned the piece of furniture as specifically his. There was a permanent place set aside for him in Aziraphale's home, in Aziraphale's life. It made a warmth pool in his stomach to think about it despite the creeping winter chill.

Aziraphale had begun to visit Crowley's flat in return. The angel had never once set foot in the place until the night after the airfield - Crowley had never given him the address, to be fair - but now that permission had been granted Aziraphale was here increasingly often. It was so like the easy evenings at the bookshop, just with more austere surroundings. Music, alcohol, debates and memories and slightly drunken speculation. The occasional temporary twining of fingers. It was good.

It was overwhelming sometimes, this new 'good'.

Aziraphale always left the flat at the end of the evening, usually around ten. He had no reservations whatsoever about chatting until dawn in the bookshop but the flat was a new environment, Crowley supposed. Possibly something to do with propriety.

Possibly something to do with thousands of years of distance that they were both still figuring out how to cross.

But that was Aziraphale, all right: as slow and steady as a glacier when it came to his set, comfortable ways. So much had changed in the past few months and the angel had had to adapt quickly. Crowley didn't begrudge him taking a few things slow. Old habits were hard to break and their habits were very, very old.

Crowley understood well how shadows could linger even in the bright daylight. It was all well and good to say he was off Hell's payroll. It was another thing entirely when instinct crept up on him screaming that he needed to watch his back, to sit a row behind Aziraphale on the bus, to have forty excuses ready for when Dagon came auditing. It took considerable effort to override those instincts and remind himself that 'together' was okay. It was allowed. And still he'd so far only managed to turn the volume down on them, not silence them completely. He didn't know if he ever would. Crowley didn't doubt Aziraphale had similar instincts of his own. If the angel felt better setting himself a curfew, Crowley certainly wasn't going to judge.

But tonight they were here, and warm, and sheltered from the blizzard. As 'retro' had begun to slide back into style, Crowley had picked up a sleek addition to his stereo system that was at once a record turntable, radio, tape deck, and CD player, with added Bluetooth capability for good measure. Strains of Vivaldi swam through the room from a vinyl, mingling with the crackling of the fire and the clinking of wine glasses. Aziraphale was settled deeply into the sofa, his posture several steps short of perfect which was how Crowley knew he was truly relaxed. Crowley, as per usual, was draped over the couch like he'd never seen one before in his life, as though he had too many limbs and didn't know what to do with them all. It was good.

Life was good.

It was a little after ten when Aziraphale spoke up. "It's getting late." His voice was a bit distant as he looked out the window, snow glinting in the reflected light as it fell. "I suppose I ought to be going."

There was a note of regret to his voice, a lack of conviction in his eyes, that Crowley had learned to read over the long years of the Arrangement. A smile pulled at the corner of the demon's mouth, covered up easily by another sip of wine. It was a very old game they played, treading carefully along the outside edges of things that could not or should not be said aloud. Expectations, angelic ones in particular, built a lot of barriers. Aziraphale wanted something that wasn't allowed him - or wasn't supposed to be allowed him - and couldn't bring himself to reach out and grasp it. It was Crowley's job to find ways for him to justify the forbidden something to himself.

In the subtle language they shared, the angel was asking Crowley to tempt him, and how could Crowley pass up a request like that?

"Awfully cold out there," the demon drawled, gesturing languidly toward the window with his wine glass. "Snowing like nobody's business. Wind and ice and subzero chill. Terrible night to be out in."

"I'm sure it's not so bad."

"Not so bad? It's been raging for hours! Look at it! It's knee-high! You expect me to try and drive my poor car out in that mess?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the demon. "Ah yes. Imagine if humans invented other forms of transportation aside from your horrid car."

The demon's argument was all bluff and they both knew it. The Bentley could slice through the snowdrifts like a hot knife through butter if Crowley wanted it to. It wasn't the strength of the argument that mattered - it was whether or not Aziraphale could twist it to bypass the metaphorical roadblocks. Crowley rose to the challenge by sprawling back on the sofa with a smirk. "Other forms of transportation? You mean a bus, in weather like that? And good luck finding a cab out there, angel. City's practically shut down."

Aziraphale stood, giving his back a tentative stretch. "I could walk, of course. I've done it loads of times. It doesn't take much more than twenty minutes, not counting the care that has to be taken for ice."

"Walk, he says!" Crowley tossed back the remainder of his wine like a shot glass. "Think of it - the first angel in history to catch pneumonia! Bad job I'm not working for Hell anymore; they'd give me an award!"

"If doing those temptations in Qashliq for you didn't give me pneumonia, I'm quite sure nothing will."

"Are you ever going to let that go? It was over four hundred years ago!"

"It was February in Siberia, no I will not."

"Suppose you did stay a bit longer," Crowley ventured, changing tactics. It was a risk, coming at the problem from such a direct angle when they were both so used to ghosting along edges. "Bookshop wouldn't go anywhere, would it?"

Aziraphale blinked at the abrupt transition. "Well no, I shouldn't think so. It's just...I mean if I don't return home someone might notice of course and well...people will talk."

Crowley leaned forward over his knees, seriously. "Angel. When, in two hundred years in that bookshop, have you ever given a single fuck what your human neighbours think?"

Aziraphale drew himself up with a huff, and Crowley was delighted to see familiar indignation winning out over nerves. "I am an upstanding member of the community, I'll have you know. And it's not just my neighbours, of course - it's yours as well. That little old lady who lives on the floor below, for example. She always gives me that look when I pass her in the lift."

"What look?"

"You know! That look! Like she thinks she knows what's going on between the two of us."

The demon grinned like a Cheshire cat and gave a suggestive wiggle of his shoulders just for the expression it painted across the angel's face. "You're worried that my neighbours are going to think you and I took a tumble in the sheets?"

"They already suspect! Or at least she suspects." Aziraphale was trying so hard to keep a straight face, but mirth glinted behind his eyes. "Do you know what she said to me as she was getting out of the lift the other day? 'Don't forget to use protection; you don't know where he's been!'"

Crowley howled, leaning so far back in his laughter that he fell off the couch.

"I don't know what's more outlandish, the idea that we're in here having a lurid physical affair or the idea that I don't know exactly where you've been."

Crowley wiped his eyes dry and held out a hand so the angel could help pull him up from the floor. "Remind me to miracle her fridge so that all her milk keeps past its date. 'Don't know where he's been' indeed."

Aziraphale fought to get his own smile under control, for the sake of his argument if nothing else. "Yes, but it just goes to show, Crowley, people do notice. And they will talk, I'm sure of it."

"Let them," he waved it off. "I've seen tissue paper with more durability than human gossip. It'll all get forgotten in a day or two." Crowley leaned over and refilled both glasses.

"Right. I suppose it will." The angel took a tentative sip and sat back into the sofa again. "Silly thing to get worked up about, really."

On a regular night that might have been the end of it. They'd had their verbal tennis, they'd had a laugh, and Aziraphale had accepted another drink. But try as he might, the angel couldn't seem to settle. There was a stiffness, a tension to his spine that would not unwind. He fidgeted with the stemware, shooting furtive glances at the window, the fireplace, the clock. 

The ceiling.

The final notes of Vivaldi faded out, leaving the room in silence, and Crowley rose to swap the record. The discomfort radiating off the angel was almost palpable and it made his own spine crawl. "Aziraphale--"

"Only, the wind really looks dreadful," Aziraphale blurted out, jolting to his feet and crossing to the window. "I really ought to go before it gets worse."

"Can't get much worse than it is, I think," Crowley countered carefully. "Best stay where it's warm."

"I don't..." Aziraphale stared out at the London skyline, nearly invisible in the storm. Pale fingers worried absently at the hem of his waistcoat. His mouth was down to a thin line and there was quite a lot behind his eyes. He looked pained. "I shouldn't impose."

"You're not imposing if I'm offering."

"It isn't...it isn't right for me to stay!"

The demon set down the vinyl he was holding, something dangerous layering his words. "Says who?"

"I've been ignoring protocol too much as it is--"

Crowley gritted his teeth, a growl rising in his throat. "There is no protocol on our side!"

"I know!" Aziraphale snapped. There was a beat of silence and the anger in the angel's face melted as suddenly as it had come, leaving his expression frustrated and upset. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, almost apologetically. "I...I really can't...surely you understand why I can't just..." He ran a hand through his hair helplessly, eyes darting to the ceiling.

The demon set his glass down and moved over to the window.

It was a very old game they played. Crowley was good at his job and Aziraphale was good at the mental gymnastics required to fit through some of the more dubious loopholes. But every now and then they still lost.

He positioned himself in front of the principality, forcing Aziraphale to look at him.

"Angel," he said quietly, as though someone might overhear. "If you want to head home, I'll take you. You know I will. I'd just rather it be because you want to rather than because they would want you to."

Aziraphale looked truly miserable. "Crowley, you've been a marvelous host, you really have, but...I'm so sorry, I..."

Crowley stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. For just a moment the demon's face was soft, genuine. A bit sad but still impossibly fond. "Don't be." He gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's late. Get your coat, angel, it's cold out there." He doused the fireplace with a wave and stretched his back out. "Give me a moment to sober up and I'll start the car."

Aziraphale sighed, clearly frustrated at a great many things, but headed for the coat rack while the demon forced the alcohol from his system. "It ought to be fine," he muttered as the wine bottles in the corner finished refilling. "It ought to be fine. I can't explain it, I..."

"It's like someone's standing too close inside your personal space," Crowley finished for him quietly, pulling a coat of his own from the ether. "Like you're driving on the motorway and you end up in the blind spot of a lorry. There's no great outward change but all of a sudden the hairs are up on the back of your neck and your skin is crawling. And you just have this overwhelming sense of this is not a good place to be, get out."

"Yes," Aziraphale murmured unsteadily. "Yes, that's it exactly." His eyes found Crowley's, apologetic, searching.

"It is what it is, angel," he assured him softly. "We have time."

A weight seemed to lift from Aziraphale's shoulders. "I...thank you. Truly." There were things unspoken that Crowley could hear beneath that simple phrase. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being patient with me.

Don't say that, hesitated on the tip of Crowley's tongue. Instinct was, of course, very old and very strong. He swallowed down the words and searched for new ones to replace them.

"You're welcome," he said quietly. The syllables tasted foreign in his mouth.

There was silence in the flat as he buttoned up his coat. Despite the passing months they truly had only moved the barest steps away from where they had been.

They had so very far to go yet.

But it was true. They had time.

"Right." He tried to break the mood as casually as he could, slipping dark glasses on and turning his voice into something light and easy. "Shall we be off then? After you, angel."

The lift ride down was silent, subdued. Something complicated was warring behind the blue eyes and Crowley wasn't going to even begin to touch on it until they were in the car. Aziraphale's steps faltered as he reached the glass doors of the lobby, and Crowley was halfway down the outside stairs before he realized he wasn't following.

"Oi, you coming?"

Aziraphale stared down at the space beyond the door with a peculiar expression: uncertainty and determination and anger and hurt. "I - I don't..." There was a moment of indecision, of frantic debate on his face, then he backed quickly over to the lobby bench and sat down hard.

Crowley pulled his coat tighter about himself as the wind bit through his clothes and ducked back into the building.

Aziraphale held very still, eyes closed and fingers gripping the edge of the bench.

"Angel?"

"Give me a moment. Please."

Crowley paced a cautious half-circle around him, instinctively scanning the principality for damage and the storm beyond the glass wall for threats. Another old habit - nearly useless now but one he wasn't going to be able to drop any time soon. He sat down beside the angel and the lobby was quiet for a very, very long time.

"I think," murmured Aziraphale at last, "if it's all right with you, I'd like to stay."

Crowley studied him closely. "Are you sure?"

"No." Aziraphale met his gaze. "I haven't been sure of much of anything, recently. Not since Tadfield. But I do not want to be forced back to the bookshop tonight."

"Shouldn't force yourself to stay if you're only going to be miserable."

"It's not so bad down here, that's the silly thing. But for some reason the idea of going back upstairs is just..." He laughed wryly. "What a mess I've made of the evening."

"It was a fine evening," Crowley told him earnestly.

"I thought so too, at least until the end there." He straightened, and looked a bit more like himself to Crowley's eyes. "And it's my most sincere hope that, with some more wine and another record, it might be again. Give me a few minutes. I think I can work up to it."

The demon took his glasses off and studied him closely. The determination in those eyes, the set of that jaw, were so familiar they hurt. There was a nervousness there, but there was a stubbornness as well. Like the glacier: slow, steady, but deep down so, so strong.

Crowley reached behind himself and retrieved a pair of full wine glasses that suddenly and thoughtfully decided to exist. "You know, I reckon..." he said quietly, handing one to Aziraphale, "that these will taste just as good right here as they would upstairs."

Aziraphale blinked. Glanced from his glass to the demon to the lift and back again. And his expression softened considerably.

"And if music and wine is what it takes to hang onto your company for a little longer, I s'pose that's the sacrifice I'll have to make, won't I?" He sat his phone down beside him and with a few taps Mozart began to play from its speakers.

Aziraphale stared deep into his wine glass, a smile spreading across his face that he didn't seem quite ready to share with the world yet. "A little unorthodox, isn't it?"

"And?" Crowley shrugged. "Last I checked, there's no protocol on our side."

"So there isn't. Do you know, I think I like that about it."

The demon lowered his voice. "Say the word any time, you know. We'll go, no questions asked."

"I know." Aziraphale let out a long breath and settled back onto cushions that were suddenly far more plush than anything the lobby bench had seen before. "But at the moment I'd rather be here."

The storm howled beyond the glass wall but the central heating vent behind them kept any stray chills at bay. They sat in gentle silence for a long time.

Piano Sonata No. 14 wound through the room, mingling with the warmth and the wine to kindle a sense of calm: a concoction of human magic that miracles, for all their power, could never replicate. Clever things, those humans.

Crowley traced a finger around the rim of his glass. "Can I ask what changed your mind?" he asked softly.

Aziraphale gazed off into the distance for a moment before looking back to his companion. "It was the 'you're welcome', funnily enough. You've always objected so vehemently to being thanked before."

"Yeah, well..." Crowley took another sip of his drink so as not to meet Aziraphale's eyes. "Like being in the blind spot of a lorry."

Aziraphale nodded. "It's..." He trailed off. Took a swig of wine and swallowed it down hard, as though for courage. "It's a comfort," he admitted so quietly that Crowley had to strain to hear him. "To know that it's not just me."

Crowley pursed his lips. "Not by a long shot, no" he confessed, equally quiet.

"I know accepting gratitude doesn't come easy to you. But you managed, tonight."

"It isn't a footrace, angel. I'm not asking you to keep pace with me."

"I know that. And I'm grateful. It's just... seeing you be brave makes me feel like...like I can be as well."

That smile was tugging at the edge of Crowley's mouth again. He reached out and clinked the edge of his glass with Aziraphale's. "Course you can be. Always have been."

The angel smiled back at him, warm and glowing and grateful, just the faintest hint of pink darkening his cheeks. With a daring Crowley had only seen behind the safety of closed doors and wine bottles, he placed a hand on the bench between them, palm up. 

Crowley took it.

Meeting him in the middle, as always.

"Careful, angel," the demon murmured in his ear. "Remember, you don't know where I've been."

Aziraphale gave an undignified snort into his wine glass and their laughter echoed throughout the lobby.

The storm raged cold outside, but here, in their own little in-between place, they were warm.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 7.

(not my gif)

Summary: Bridgett’s life gets turned upside down with the news that her sister is missing. The team travels to her home town to help find her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC! Plus size character, Bridgett Mendez

TW: Mentions of rape throughout this whole chapter (If this makes you uncomfortable, do not read or engage), underage dating (17 year old and 26 year old), mentions of a gun, talk about death, finding a dead body, language. If i missed anything let me know.

Word count: 5.9k

A.N.: This chapter has a very dark and heavy story line, if you don’t feel comfortable reading the chapter with all of the trigger warnings up above, please do not read. This is mid season 6 Spencer (pre Emily’s “death”).

~ ~ ~

“You do!” Spencer laughs, his hand resting on Bridgett’s knee, his thumb slowly going back and forth against her knee cap.

“I do not! You’re the one that snores in my ear when you’re sleeping behind me and spooning me.” Bridgett teases back, shoving his shoulder playfully.

“Just when I’m extra tired.”

“Oh so that would be all the time.” Bridgett laughs, touching his cheek with her fingers. “What do you want to do this weekend? Hoping we don’t have a case interrupting it.” Spencer moves his hand up Bridgett’s thigh, staring at her intensely.

“You.” Spencer says quietly. Bridgett smirks at him, taking his wandering hand and holding it in hers.

“Is that so? Well I think that sounds like a pretty busy weekend.”

“Yeah I think it will be.” Spencer replies, making her heart flutter a little bit, taking her hand and kissing it.

“Bridgett, I need to speak with you. My office.” Hotch says, whizzing past her toward his office.

Bridgett and Spencer look at each other with wide eyes.

“You think he noticed?” Bridgett asks, hopping off Spencer’s desk onto her feet.

“Yes he noticed! I was basically 2 seconds away from making out with you!”

“But why didn’t he call both of us in?”

“You have to separate the suspects in order to get the full story.”

Bridgett glares at him, walking away quickly up to Hotch’s office. When she walks through the doorway she sees Rossi sitting in as well.

“What’s going on? Am I in trouble for doing what I was doing with Spencer?”

Rossi raises an eyebrow, glancing over at Hotch, now wondering what she was doing with Spencer.

“No. Shut the door and sit please.”

Bridgett shuts the door carefully, the walk over to the chair seeming like a mile away.

Hotch sighs, “When was the last time you spoke to your sister?”

Bridgett furrows her eyebrows, her mind instantly swimming, “On Sunday evening. We always call each other then. Why are you asking about her?”

“When was the last time you spoke to your parents?”

“I don’t.”

“When was the last time you had any contact?” Rossi questions, flipping through a folder in his hands.

“My mom called me about,” Bridgett pauses, thinking back in her mind, “A year and a half ago. She left a voicemail about how she was leaving my dad because he got another woman pregnant. But I’ve heard that so many times and I don’t care to speak to her anyway so I didn’t call her back. What’s going on?”

“Celeste is missing. Your parents reported her missing an hour ago. We just got the call about 20 minutes ago.”

Hotch hands her the missing person’s flyer, her sister’s senior picture with all of her information on the side. Bridgett’s heart drops into her stomach, staring at the paper in her hand. She automatically dissociates from the situation, everything in the room going dead quiet, tears welling up in her eyes.

“When?”

“Your parents last saw her Monday morning on her way to school.” Rossi says.

Bridgett comes back to reality, eyes flickering between Hotch and Rossi, her blood boiling. “Wait, wait. She’s been missing for 4 days and they just barely reported her missing? They haven’t seen her in fucking four da-“ Bridgett laughs in disbelief, rubbing the middle of her forehead in circles.

“We’re taking the case on. Your sister isn’t the only young girl missing. 3 other girls, ages 18-20 years old were reported missing within the past month.”

“Were any of them found alive?” Bridgett questions.

“Bridgett, we don’t know if they’re connected.” Hotch says trying to get her to calm down.

“I know I’ve been a cry baby every day of my life since you’ve known me, but I’m a big girl, I can handle the truth. I know you know if they’re connected.”

The two men give each other a look before turning back to look at Bridgett.

“It’s not for certain but we do have reason to believe they’re connected. And no, none of them were found alive. But that doesn’t mean your sister isn’t alive. We want you to do the briefing on the jet. I’m going to tell the team wheels up in 20.”

“Can I have a minute before we go?”

“Of course. We’re going to find her, Bridgett. I promise.” Hotch says, making a point to look into her eyes.

Bridgett gives him a small smile, trying to keep her tears at bay. As soon as both of them leave Bridgett breaks down, tears falling down her cheeks onto the paper still in her hand. She didn’t have to be as smart as Spencer to figure out who Celeste was with. She just hopes that she ran off with him and it wasn’t a violent end.

**** Bridgett sits by herself in the back of the jet while everyone else was up front talking. Spencer tried to ask what was the matter, but Bridgett just told him that she needed to be alone for a few minutes. He knew she was upset, but he couldn’t tell why, and he couldn’t hold her to make her feel better.

Hotch walks up to Bridgett, handing her the case file. She stands up and walks to the rest of the group, her hands shaking and her heart pumping fast as everyone gives her a questioning look as to why she was about to brief everyone and not JJ.

“Umm, so, we have 4 missing women in Erickson, Texas. Ages 17-20. Makayla Weber, Vanessa Davis, Elizabeth Jensen; all of whom have been found dead. Signs of rape before being choked to death and dumped at random… and my si-“ She pauses, sighing shakily, “My sister… Celeste Mendez was reported missing this morning.”

Everyone’s faces are a mix of shocked, horrified, sympathetic.

“My parents barely reported her missing a few hours ago even though she’s been missing since Monday night. And I didn’t tell you this back at the office, I’m sorry, but I know who the unsub is.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, Rossi still stone faced.

“How do you know?” Derek asks.

“Garcia, can you search the name Joshua Wolfe please? E at the end of Wolfe.”

“Okay give me a sec… no criminal record, a few speeding tickets over the past few years, but nothing serious.”

“Are there any newspaper articles written about him? From high school?”

“Yes, star football player, quarterback, got The Erickson Tigers to state championship 3 years back to back, multiple offers from different schools for full ride scholarships for football.” Penelope says, listing off all of the “great” things written about him.

“Yeah he was all of those things. But he’s also a pervert. He’s dating my sister. He’s her soccer coach and when Celeste came to visit me 4 months ago she told me that they were seeing each other. I flipped, told her how disgusting it was, that it’s illegal, she didn’t care. She was ‘in love’ with him.”

“How long have they been seeing each other romantically?” Emily questions.

“Since early July, so about 7 months or so. She was 16 at the time. She kept saying that because the age of consent is 16 that it wasn’t illegal, but she doesn’t understand because she’s blinded by what she thinks is love but is just him manipulating her into falling in love with him and thinking he loves her back. It’s all part of his game. He makes you feel special, and good, and then he…”

“What? What does he do?”  JJ asks, giving Bridgett a comforting hand squeeze.

“The thing to know about Joshua is that because he was a star athlete, he of course, got all the girls. He was handsome, athletic, popular, but he didn’t take kindly to being turned down from sex… I would know.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asks, her face reading that she already knew where this was going.

Bridgett looks at everyone’s eyes, all of them knew without her even saying the words. And worse of all, Spencer knew too, and she had to admit to her boyfriend in front of all their friends that one of the worst things that could happen to anyone, happened to her.

“My senior year, everyone was at the homecoming game, and I was a part of the student council. We helped set up concession stands, announced the homecoming court, all that. And when everything was all done and we had cleaned up for the night, my parents weren’t answering the home phone, and I had told my friends that I didn’t need a ride home so I was stuck. But Joshua saw me sitting in the parking lot, and asked if I needed a ride home. Of course I took it because it was Joshua Wolfe, all the girls wanted him, he was a charmer, handsome, had it all. So he drives past my house to this look out of the town, everyone goes there on dates to have sex, and I knew what he was trying to do, but I didn’t want it. He kept trying to kiss me, and stick his hands down my pants. So I got out of the car and tried to walk away, but he pulled a gun on me… told me if I didn’t get back in the car he was going to shoot me. So I got back in. Told me to get undressed and go to the backseat or he would shoot me. So I did. And then he forced himself on me. I told him I didn’t want it, but he didn’t care. He… he raped me. Then he pretended like nothing happened, threw my clothes at me and told me to get dressed. He took me back home. I told my mom what happened… and she had the audacity to tell me, that if I really didn’t want to have sex, I would have fought him off harder. That I should have made him get off me. So I called a friend and she took me to the police station. I talked to the sheriff and he said he didn’t believe me. That if what I was saying was true, that reporting it would be damaging for Joshua’s future career opportunities. I didn’t even get sent to the hospital for a kit. He got away with raping me. It got around at school that I reported him raping me, one of the girls I went to school with, her dad was an officer, so she told everyone. And it wasn’t hard for the rumor to circulate. But then Joshua came up with a story that I was drunk, kept making moves on him, he felt bad because I was crying that nobody would ever have sex with me because I was fat, and had sympathy sex with me. Of course that was the story everyone believed. I was the girl who cried rape and nobody ever let me forget it. I hated him, I have never hated a person as much as I hated him. And it was like he got off on me hating him, seeing me get taunted, and crying about the shit people did to me and said about me. People would follow behind me in the hallways and scream ‘rape’ at me, thinking it was funny. None of the teachers ever did anything about it.”

Bridgett couldn’t even look at them after the story, she couldn’t stand to see the sympathy in their eyes. She didn’t even want to know what Spencer’s face looked like right now. The jet was oddly quiet, everyone processing the last few minutes. Bridgett finally sits down, tears dripping down her cheeks remembering all the shit she went through the last 7 months of high school. JJ gets up out of her seat and hugs her tightly.

“Oh my god, Bridgy… honey I’m so sorry.” She whispers.

“You think he preyed on your sister to get back at you? He ruined your life in high school, maybe he knew how close you and your sister are and it was just another jab at you.” Spencer asks, finally saying something.

“It could be possible, yeah. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Did your sister know about the rape?” Rossi asks.

“No. She was 10 at the time and it was never something we talked about in the house because it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, you know that right?” Derek says quietly, placing his hand on Bridgett’s knee.

“I know that now. But 17 year old me didn’t. I believed my mom. I know Celeste is with him. They probably ran away together or something, I’m just scared that if he is the one that killed the other missing girls, it could happen to Celeste. Has he been at school?”

“Records show he was at work on Tuesday but hasn’t been back since. I have the last known address and am sending it to you now.” Garcia interjects, Bridgett looks up at the computer screen, Penelope had tears in her eyes as well.

Hotch hands everyone the case file before everyone goes off to read up on it. Bridgett stays sitting in the chair she had been, zoned out, not noticing Spencer coming to sit next to her until she felt a tight grip around her body. Bridgett relaxes into him, letting tears flow freely into his chest. They don’t speak to each other, Spencer respecting that she needed to let it out, he holds her head gently, slowly going down her hair to comfort her.

*** The team sets up at the police station, getting all the information they needed from the sheriff, the same sheriff that she reported her assault to years ago and didn’t take her seriously. Bridgett stays back from him, not confident in herself that she wasn’t going to yell at him.

“We’re heading out, checking out Joshua’s house. Reid, stay with Bridgett.” Hotch says. Rossi and Derek leave out of the doors.

“I wanna go.” Bridgett demands, standing up from the chair she was sitting in.

“You know you can’t go. We’ll keep you updated when we know anything.” Hotch replies.

Bridgett slowly walks over to Spencer, he pins the map of the town on the board in front of her. She wraps her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. His heart breaks because he knew how lost and upset she was, and he really couldn’t do or say anything to help her. He turns around to face her, her eyelids were red and puffy, she looked exhausted. Spencer cups her cheeks in his hands, kissing her forehead twice, he didn’t care if the rest of the local police saw.

“I’m glad you talked about what happened. Probably not the setting you wanted to talk about it, but still glad. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, sweetheart.” Spencer speaks softly.

“I’ve wanted to tell you, but it’s so hard for me to talk about. That was the first time I ever got through it without crying a lot.”

“It’s okay. It’s hard talking about traumatic experiences. Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

“A shrink? No. I probably should but I don’t know, it’s nerve racking.”

“Bridge, your parents are here.” JJ says, stepping into the room.

Spencer let’s go of Bridgett’s face, letting her walk out of the room into the hallway. “I wanna go in there.”

“Are you sure?” JJ asks.

“Yes I’m sure. They’re not going to talk to anyone else. They don’t like cops. I have a better shot at getting them to say anything.”

JJ sighs, finally nodding her head. “If you need to step out, we’ll be in the next room. Don’t let them get to you.”

Bridgett nods her head, walking to the interrogation room door, stopping before grabbing the door handle. She takes deep breaths, wiping her face with her hands to try and look less of a mess. She counts to 10 slowly before walking into the room.

“Mom. Dad.”

They both look up at Bridgett, her dad staying stoned face while her mom’s face softened.

“Hi mija.”

Here we go.

Bridgett sits down across from them with a sigh, opening her case file and pulling the missing persons report out of the folder, sliding it across to them.

“Why would you wait 4 days after your daughter is missing to report it? She never came home from school Monday and you didn’t think it was the slightest bit weird?”

“No. The past few months it’s been happening.  Her leaving and not coming back for a few days. It’s mostly her leaving Friday morning and not coming back home until Monday night after school. But we called her on Wednesday and she didn’t answer her phone. She had a game Tuesday and she wasn’t there.” Her mom explains.

“She never missed a game.” Bridgett mutters. “And do you know who she was leaving with on weekends?”

“You’re the one that talks to her all the time, you don’t know?” Her dad snaps, hitting his palm on the table.

Bridgett stares him down, “Do you know every single detail about all of your kids? I bet you couldn’t name us in birth order. In fact, you couldn’t even tell me the color of my eyes. I’m there for Celeste since you guys clearly aren’t.”

“Bridgett.” Her mom saying her name in a warning tone. “You still need to respect your father.”

Bridgett laughs, “I need to respect him? He doesn’t know the meaning of the word respect! Look how he treats you! And the way he’s been treating you the past 24 almost 25 years!” Her voice raised in volume quickly, her voice ringing through the room. “Let me tell the ‘Parents of the Year’ something, she’s been having a sexual relationship with Joshua Wolfe, her high school soccer coach. She told me about it when she came to Virginia a few months back.”

Her dad gets up from the chair, making it fall to the floor and walking out of the room. Bridgett turns back toward the mirror, motioning for someone to go get him. She sees two of the local police follow after him as Emily walks in, sitting down next to Bridgett.

“Why does that name sound familiar? Joshua?” Her mom questions.

“Really? You don’t remember that this man raped me and you told me that it was basically my fault! You victim blamed me! And then the people you’re supposed to go to for help tell me that I’m going to damage his career if I cry rape! Nobody believed me and I had to emotionally and mentally live with the fact that I never got any help for my sexual assault! I warned everyone about this asshole and nobody believed me! And now my sister, my whole life, is missing and he needs to be suspect number one! I don’t give a fuck if he was a football star and a good kid, I know he has Celeste and you couldn’t even pay attention for 5 goddamn seconds to know something in your own child’s life!” Her eyes were cloudy with tears, her voice breaking and hoarse.

Emily stands up, trying to pull her out of the room. “Bridgett, you need to walk away.”

“Oh this shit again? He wouldn’t do something like that, Joshua is a respected person. It was so long ago.”

“And I’m still traumatized! Maybe if you paid an ounce of attention to your kids, one wouldn’t be missing and the other wouldn’t live states away to get away from you!” She yells, walking out of the room.

Spencer meets her in the hallway, enveloping her in a hug. He shushes her, stroking her hair. “Come here. It’s okay, you did good.”

“That’s the reason I left. That’s why Celeste was planning on leaving after graduation. I shouldn’t have ever left her.”

“It's going to be okay. We’re going to find her.”

“I’m taking her back to Virginia. She’s not staying here anymore.”

“Guys, we gotta go,  they found Joshua.”

***

Bridgett automatically recognized the white vintage pickup truck parked in the driveway, the same one he had that night. Rossi, Hotch, and Derek were waiting across the street at the other house, a few other police cars parked in the street. Everyone hops out of the car, walking over to the other half of the team.

“He’s in there. We don’t know if Celeste is in there for sure. He’s saying she is but he won’t come out. Rossi’s trying to talk to him, coax him out.” Derek explains.

“He wants Bridgett.” Rossi says, moving the phone away from his mouth.

“No.” Spencer says from behind her.

“What do you mean no? I’m going in there.” Bridgett says, checking her vest and gun to make sure everything was in order.

“I agree with Reid, it’s too risky. Especially with how emotionally impulsive you can be.” Hotch replies.

“Bridgett might have the best shot of getting him to tell us where Celeste is. One of us will follow behind you and stay by the door outside, and we’ll be listening in.” Derek says.

Bridgett looks around at the rest of the team, waiting for the okay from Hotch, even though everyone already knew that Bridgett was going to do what she wanted.

“Morgan, stay with her, but fall back just enough where you won’t be seen. We don’t know what’s going to set him off. Bridgett, say the word and we’ll move in.”

“Got it.” She says, walking up to the house with her gun drawn out in front of her. Once she gets to the door she knocks on it, seeing Derek duck out behind an overgrown bush off to the side of her. The door opens, Joshua standing behind the screen door. He still looked the same as he did in high school, a 5 o’clock shadow on his face.

“I knew you would come running to be your sister’s savior. Look at you, filled out since the last time I saw you.”

Bridgett looked at him in disgust. “Where’s Celeste?”

“Why don’t you come inside and find out?” He asks, opening the screen door. She follows behind him, keeping her distance. Bridgett looks around the house, everything was neat and tidy, not a pillow, picture, or knickknack out of place.

“You need to answer my question. Where is she?”

Joshua sits in a chair, his arms laying flat on the arm rests.

“How much is it killing you inside to know what your sister and I do? That I had both you and her. And at the same age.”

Bridgett draws her gun on him, walks toward him slowly, “Where. Is. She? You have 15 seconds before I shoot you right in the middle of your goddamn forehead. Tell me where she is Joshua!”

“Well if you shoot me how are you going to find out where she is? Sit, talk to me a while. Let’s catch up.” Not so much as a blink coming from him when Bridgett drew the gun on him.  

Bridgett rounds the corner of the couch, sitting across from him, gun still drawn on him. “You want to sit and chat? Let’s sit and chat, Joshua.” She spits, narrowing her eyes at him.

“She loved me. Loved all of me.”

“Mother fucker. Where is she? I’ll fucking kill you myself!”

“Got both the sisters on my scorecard.”

“Fuck you! Your piece of shit. Where the fuck is she? You don’t get it. My team has my back, just like all the boys on the team did after you assaulted me. They’ll vouch that you pulled a weapon on me, I’ll shoot you, clean shot. I’m the best shooter on this team, I don’t miss. Tell me where she is!”

The door opens behind her, the team flooding in, all of their guns drawn on him.

“Drop the bull shit, Joshua. Tell us where you have Celeste.” Derek yells, stopping next to Bridgett.

“Celeste found out about the other girls. She realized that she wasn’t the only one in my life, figured out what I had done to them. She threatened to call her big bad big sister, and I knew what I had to do.”

Bridgett drops her gun, her patience officially running out and charging him, kicking his legs from under him, his whole body hitting the floor with a thud. Bridgett climbs on top of him, wrapping her hands around his throat.

“Tell me where she is!”

“44th and McLeary. The Stephenson's old house.” He chokes out, his whole face cherry red. Bridgett holds her hands against him for a few more seconds, watching him struggle for air. Derek picks her up off of Joshua, handing her off to Spencer.

“Cuff him. I’m going.” Bridgett runs out of the house to the car, jumping in the driver seat. She sees Spencer slide in next to her in the passenger seat. The back doors open, Rossi and Hotch in the backseats waiting for her to floor it.

*** Bridgett presses on the brake pedal firmly, the whole SUV stopping suddenly. She puts it in park, not taking the keys out but jumping out. Hotch and Spencer block her path, stopping her in the middle of the driveway, both of them holding her back.

“Wait here. Do not let her in yet. We need to clear the house.” Rossi says, Hotch following behind him with their guns drawn. Bridgett watches them walk into the house. Spencer holds her against his chest, trying to get her to relax.

“I wanted to kill him. I looked in his eyes when I was choking him… and if Derek would have let me, I would have killed him.”

“Trust me, you’re not going to have to worry about him again. He’s not going to hurt you or your sister anymore.”

“We found her…” Rossi’s voice rings in their ear pieces.

“Celeste! I’m coming.”  Bridgett runs into the house, her heart beating fast, a new wave of adrenaline coursing through her body. She goes to the back of the house and sees both men standing in the hallway.

“Bridge wait, she’s not… she’s gone”  Rossi says, holding her arms. “You don’t want to see her like this. You don’t want that to be the last memory you have of her.”

Tears instantly started flowing down her cheeks, her whole body going numb. She gripped onto Rossi’s arms, collapsing against him. Bridgett sobs into his shoulder. He whispers ‘I’m sorry’ into her ear over and over again, trying to hold her up.

“No, I need to see her. I need to see if it’s her.” She cries.

Rossi looks at Hotch, waiting for his approval. Once he nods his head Rossi let’s her go. Bridgett walks forward, staring at her sister lying lifeless on the floor.

Celeste was left in just a tank top and underwear, her tan skin was now pale, her lips dry and a hint of blue on them. Her cheekbone had a purple bruise on it, one long bruise around her neck as well, dried blood under her nostril. There was a pool of dried blood surrounding her body. She drops to the floor next to her, moving her hair out of her face. Holding Celeste’s hand, crying over her body.

“No! Oh my god no. Celeste, baby come on, wake up. You can’t go. Call a medic, she needs help.” Bridgett calls out behind her, frantically looking to the three men behind her. Spencer drops down next to her, rubbing her back in comfort.

“Bridge, she’s gone.”

“No! Not my baby. Not my sister. I’m so sorry, Celeste. I’m so sorry. Baby I’m so sorry. Please. Please come back, Celly, please.”

Bridgett falls into Spencer's chest, clinging to his button up shirt and screaming in agony. Bridgett kept repeating Celeste’s name, screaming for her to come back. Spencer held Bridgett like you would hold a child, trying to keep her head against his chest and trying to shield her eyes from Celeste.

A few minutes passed, the rest of the team arriving at the empty house and heading to the back, Bridgett still inconsolable in Spencer’s arms.

“Bridge, Bridgett, honey your parents will be here any minute, we gotta get you up” Emily says, bending down to be eye level with Bridgett. Bridgett shakes her head, the rest of her body shaking against Spencer as she tries to catch her breath.

“I know you don’t want to be here when they come to see Celeste. We’ll just go to the backyard, get you calm, cleaned up, and then we’ll head over to the station.”

“Come on, babe, let’s get up.” Spencer says softly, looking down at her.

“Don’t leave me. Please?”

Spencer wipes the tears from her face, kissing her cheek. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m right here.”

Bridgett finally sits up, Emily helping Bridgett to her feet, giving her a big hug. Once she looks around the room she sees the team standing back in the hallway, their faces reading sympathetic. Bridgett clings onto Spencer’s arm as they walk toward the back of the house to the sliding doors to the backyard. Bridgett sits on a tree stump off to the side of the yard, Spencer sitting right behind her. She couldn’t form thoughts, focus on anything around her, stop crying, it was like she wasn’t in control of her body or mind.

“Bridgett?” Spencer calls her name, shaking her shoulder softly.

“Hmm?”

“Emily asked if you wanted anything to drink.”

Bridgett looks up at Emily standing above her. Trying to figure out if she had been standing there the whole time.

“Just water, please.” Her voice was frail and hoarse from all the screaming.

Emily nods her head, walking back inside the house. Spencer hugs her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. Bridgett rests her arms on top of his, stroking his knuckles absentmindedly. Spencer wanted to say something, but it needed to be better than just “I’m sorry.”

A few minutes later a piercing scream travels through the house and out of the back door to where Spencer and Bridgett were sitting. Bridgett picks her head up and looks through the window into the house, seeing her dad make his way out of the hallway and dropping to his knees. Both of them could hear her mother’s gut wrenching screams come from inside. As much as Bridgett hated her parents, they shouldn’t have to bury their child. No parent should.

“Hey, let’s go to the car.” Spencer says, trying to distract her.

“No. I wanna be here when the coroner picks her up.”

“Why don’t we go to the front yard, we can wait in the car, in the air conditioning, and you can see when they get here? I don’t want you to pass out from being in the sun and crying. Not to mention you haven’t eaten since before we left Quantico.”

Bridgett agrees after a few seconds, shakily standing up and walking with Spencer to the front of the house, sitting in the passenger seat next to Spencer, the cool air blasting against her warm face. Spencer handed her a granola bar, Bridgett rejecting, there was no way she could stomach food right now.

“Bridgett, I know you’re upset, and your world just stopped, but that doesn’t mean you can stop taking care of yourself. You need something in your system.” Spencer says, opening the wrapper for her and handing it back. Bridgett takes it, breaking it in half and taking a bite.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult, I just don’t know how to process this right now.”

“You’re not being difficult. You’re mourning. I want you to know you’re not going through this alone though. Okay? I’m right here, baby.”

“I know, thank you for being here, Spence.” Bridgett whispers, touching her hand to his face.

They sit in the car in silence, watching police walk in and out of the old worn down house. Finally the coroner’s van pulls up, a man and a woman stepping out. Bridgett steps out of the SUV, watching them take the gurney out of the back of their van. Spencer comes up next to her, holding her close to him. It felt like forever before they came back out wheeling her sister’s body in the white sheet, out of the house. Bridgett’s tears start back up once again watching Celeste be removed from the last place she was alive. Her parents followed after, they were holding each other and crying, her father and Hotch on both sides of her mom escorting her out of the house.  

“Once we get back to the morgue you’ll be able to come in and identify the body. Your parents said that you’d be the one to identify her.” The man says in passing to Bridgett.

“We still have to identify her even though we know it’s her?”

“For our records, yes. We need a signature that you identified her. I am very sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She says quietly.

“Come on, I’ll drive.” Spencer says from behind her, enveloping her in a tight hug.

***

It had been hours since they found Celeste. Bridgett had to identify the body at the morgue, which mentally drained her even more. She couldn’t believe that her sister was gone, it didn’t feel real even after seeing her on the table with the blue sheet covering her.  

Spencer opens the door to her hotel room, letting her walk in first. Bridgett slowly shuffles in, stopping in the middle of the room, staring at the floor. She feels Spencer’s hand on her shoulder.

“Bridgett, you should lie down. It’s been a long night.”

She shakes her head, not moving her body from its place. “Why is this happening? Why her? Why did he do this?” Tears start to flood her already sore eyes, her heart feeling empty. Her hands fly to eyes, pressing her palms against her eyes to prevent more tears from falling.

“I know there’s nothing I can say or do to make this feel better, but I am so sorry, Bridge.” Spencer towers over her, hugging her tightly. Bridgett breaks down into his arms for the 10th time that day. Her whole body convulses against him, violent sobs coming deep from her chest. Spencer rocks her back and forth, letting her get everything out.

“I-I should hav-ha-ve never left her. I should have stayed h-home until she was done with school. That way I could have protected her.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. It’s not your fault. None of this is. Hey, look at me, baby.”

Bridgett lifts her head, Spencer taking his thumb and swiping it across her tears.

“I’m not going back to Virginia until you go back.”

“Why? No Spence, the team needs you.”

“They’ll be fine. You need me more. I told Hotch about us and that I want to be here with you to help you through the planning process and everything after. I don’t want to leave you alone and have you deal with your parents alone.”

Bridgett sniffles, trying to compose herself. “You told them about us? Why now?”

“I dunno. I figured it’s time. Especially since I’ve been by your side the entire day. Is it a problem that I told them?”

“No. Not at all. It’s actually one last thing for me to worry about whenever we do go back home. Thank you for wanting to be here with me.”

“I’m always going to be here for you, Bridge. I always have you.”

[archetypal-archivist]

My Beloved, Penis

Fuck it. I was infected by Penis SMP by @demonboyhalo reblogging a bunch of it and the lack of consistent lore bugged me, so I somehow banged out 2000+ words of fanfic about the Penis SMP and how it got started. Lots of internet humor and classic MInecraft shenanigans in this one folks. *slaps roof* This baby can fit so much crack treated seriously, lol. This is also up on my AO3, Zazibine, if you would prefer to read it there.

_-_-_-_

It was never supposed to get so big. It was just an SMP with a couple friends of his he had met from the Hypixel discord server, where he had logged on simply to trash talk the absolute asshole who had dared to kill him last minute in bedwars, only to stumble upon said asshole- going under the name shittyfartbaby69 of all things- complaining to his girlfriend(?) Milfboss in the voice chat. Thirty minutes later of awkward hellos and the manliest of bitching at each other (with Milf chiming in every once in a while to roast them both), and PenisUnavailable had perhaps his first Minecraft friend in, like, forever.

Then Admiral_Anus had entered chat, bitching about his competitor in ABBA Mining and his bullshit bad luck and the whole process repeated. By the end of the day, Penis had three new friends, a private discord server for the four of them, and a promise to meet up with them in Hypixel next Sunday for the ultimate round of bedwars.

The game went spectacularly. Somehow, Admiral had some of the best bridging skills any of them had ever seen, and between Milfboss' terrifying Scottish screaming and pvp and Shitty with his clutch TNT skills, the three of them almost made up for Penis' awful depth perception. They still lost around forty percent of their games, but that was certainly better than Penis' own abysmal record, not helped with his habit of walking off the edge at inconvenient times.

And it was... fun. Usually bedwars was just him playing in his bedroom alone for an hour before he rage-quit and went back to survival for a bit before he died to fall damage and rage quit that too. But shittyfartbaby69 would crack dirty jokes that he'd never even heard of before, and Milfboss would roast him for looking it up on reddit and Shitty would cuss her out as he tried to prove that no, he was being original- all while Admiral would comment of them as if they were a sideshow display. Then Admiral_Anus would turn around and knock an enemy player off their island with some clever pvp and they would all hoot and holler and swear for a while before going back to their conversation, joking about forgetting the topic and starting up a running gag about something new.

And their accents, mmm. PenisUnavailable would never say it, but he really was as American as white Wonder bread and Milfboss' Scottish brogue, Admiral's smooth British snark, and Shitty's shrieking in Australian, well. Ear candy, you know? Even if he teased them mercilessly for pronouncing shit wrong, like "buhguhr". Ppffttt, it still cracked him up how Milfboss had threatened to murder him after the dictionary app on his phone had proved him right that it was actually "Bur-gur", even if Admiral kept insisting it was pronounced "bruh-girl".

Four hours and twenty-eight wins later, they had agreed to meet up the next day to play again, preferably at an hour that wasn't two am for Shitty again. (It was two am for Shitty again, although that was because they played for six that time.) Eventually, it just became a regular thing, them playing bedwars and competing at ABBA Caving- the one game Penis was unnaturally good at, much to Admiral's annoyance- to the point where they ran out of funny jokes about their competitors and the game itself and started talking personal anecdotes.

Milfboss owned a motorcycle. Admiral, entirely independently, also owned a motorcycle, as that was the only vehicle of reasonable speed and style that could actually handle the London traffic. Shitty couldn't drive at all, something about never passing his driving test. Admiral ate cheese at breakfast. Shitty liked to burn his garbage in a metal oil drum in his backyard. Milfboss posted herself singing covers of shit over on Youtube. And it wasn't just real life stuff either- their minecraft skills were also on the table for them all to collectively roast.

Admiral had never seen a single Minecraft Championship. Milfboss thought a flat cobblestone roof was entirely acceptable. Shitty's favorite block was the flint and steel. (That's not a block, sixty-niner. Shut up, is too. OoOh, real clever, 'shut up'! Uh, how about no? How about I fuckin' make you, ever think 'a that? No nono nonono, I'm on two hearts! I'm on two hearts, stop!) It made him curious, honestly. He wanted to see Milf's builds for himself, get revenge on Shitty, see if Admiral really could beat the Ender Dragon with a knockback stick like he said he could.

So he made a minecraft server. And they all joined it. (And stuck PenisUnavailable with the bill, suckaaahhh~!)

Predictably, it all went to Hell in a hand basket pretty quick.

See, it's one thing to play with nutters like his friends in a structured set up like Hypixel games, it's quite another to try and keep a semblance of order in an open world survival server like the Penis SMP. The first five minutes had been him trying to explain the rules and teleporting everyone back to spawn over and over as they tried to "escape the cops," ie, him. The next five minutes was Shitty scream-laughing "scatter!" and other John Mulany references down the mic as everyone ran off to start their houses. Penis, as he was still "god" at that moment, used admin commands to find the closest flower field biome to settle into, hoping for some- ha- peace and quiet.

Shitty, inevitably, ended up trying to settle in the fucking Nether. Like a mad lad, you know, as you do when you are apparently obsessed with all things lava. Milfboss ended up making an oak plank box of a "tree house" in a dark oak forest, while Admiral_Anus picked a nearby swamp for his starter base. Outside of that, they just kinda vibed in discord as they tried to fend off the mobs and get enough resources to try and build up houses that were a bit more than cobblestone towers and wood boxes- er, mostly. Milf kinda just fucked off to go mining, found a skeleton spawner by chance, and made a set of iron gear to stand in the dungeon room with to just chill and kill mobs for a while. She ended up with something like 45 levels and burned her only diamond on an enchanting table so she could buff the Hell out of her iron weapons and armor.

Penis, rather typically, he though to himself, put together a basic sheep farm and started work on a cute little cobblestone cave base. He managed to get a whole twenty by twenty block room done and fully furnished before he noticed the chat full of Shitty's death messages and went to go investigate. After nearly dying in lava twice, he managed to find Shitty's pile of items floating on a basalt pillar about a hundred blocks out from his... base?

It was a soccer ball. Shitty's base was a perfect fucking spherical soccer ball made up of quartz blocks and basalt. Just. What. The Fuck??? Then out popped shittyfartbaby69 and it was PenisUnavailable's turn to misjudge a jump and plummet right into lava. Fifteen minutes and much shrieking later about losing his diamond pick, and it turns out that Shitty didn't really care about his lost items, as he really only had four gold picks, a stack of dark oak, two furnaces, a bucket, and thirteen cooked mutton to his name. Not even a bed, the fucker. He just ran back to his portal from spawn every time he just burned to death, taking the chance to gather resources on the way back each time.

And no, he wasn't following a tutorial for his "football" base. Jerk. (Although Penis did have to admire his determination...)

The day ended on Milfboss, Shitty, and Penis reconvening back at spawn to try and hunt down Admiral_Anus, who they found later having built a thirty block tall castle of all things. Out of cobble stone and the windows weren't quite even, but still, it was pretty impressive. And of course, when presented with a castle, what can what do but siege it? So they lay siege to the castle and Milfboss curb-stomped Admiral in pvp and laid claim to the throne, crowning herself queen before summarily throwing the rest of them out. It was a good day.

And the day after was a good day. They played dodge ball crossed with hide and seek in forest around Penis' house with arrows supplied by Milfboss. And the day after that, too, where they had a building competition using nothing but cobble stone, specifically to spite Milfboss, who had kicked all of their asses the day before. In fact, three wonderful weeks passed of doing normal Minecraft shit and being friends passed by, and every bit of it was great fun.

And then came the fucking role play.

PenisUnavailable would have liked to preface that with he only participated under duress, but really, Milfboss had been queen for too long and nobody wanted to risk TNT cannoning any of Shitty's nice builds, so. Well, the castle was better than his drafty cave, alright? It was cold and wet and didn't have a proper door because aesthetic (and because it usually took him several tries to work an iron pressure plate door), so there were far too many mobs wandering in at night and spawn camping him. He and Shitty had almost the same number of deaths and Shitty lived in the fucking Nether.

So yeah. Castle time, baby! Daddy needs a new home! And Admiral obviously wasn't happy living out of Milf's awful tree house hot box where they all did drugs together on day fifteen and it still smelled of burnt wheat seeds, aka "weed." It was only obvious that they teamed up to try and take back the castle.

The battle itself didn't exactly go great, but it wasn't exactly horrible either. A lot of shouting shit at each other for fifteen minutes, the majority of which he wouldn't remember until it was too late- something about server unity?- only to find out that it wasn't two on one girl boss, it was two on a girl boss and her "baked out of his mind" henchman, also known as Shitty in a squirrel furry skin.

The ears man. Those stupid (cute) ears.

And then they were running for their lives because Milf had somehow gotten her hands on a flame bow with infinity enchants.

It all culminated in a dramatic stand-off in front of Shitty's Nether Soccer ball, Milf on one side, diamond axe in hand, not a bit of armor on because of an unfortunate run in with lava, Penis and Admiral on the other, picks in hand, threatening to tear down shittyfartbaby69's base. Shitty wasn't online just then to comment, but they could all hear him click-clacking away on his keyboard so he obviously hadn't gone to sleep just yet like he said he had. At an impasse, and unable to justify letting her teammate's home be used as collateral, Milfboss stood down and gave up her "crown," an enchanted golden Prot IV helmet she had gotten off a skeleton from her spawner.

Then the great betrayal, the beginning of the end. Shitty came back online. 96-Cam joined the game, not that they noticed in the chaos. Admiral-Anus cackled wildly and PMed Milfboss the message that Shitty had sent him, giving Team Gay Sex permission to tear down his base in the name of winning the war if it came down to it- making Milf's sacrifice worthless in the end. Penis gave another dramatic speech, circling around Shitty, who was acting weirdly apologetic to Milf about betraying her and still wearing that fucking squirrel furry skin.

"You see Milf, there's one thing more powerful than a girl boss, and when it comes down to wars between kingdoms, there's something you need to remember!" Penis got out his golden ax, helpfully labeled 'Piss Off'.  "And that's a dilf with something to lose!" An enderpearl in his off hand and he teleported behind Milf, catching on fire from the lava but still landing the last hit needed to finish her off. She puffed into a cloud of EXP, swearing up a storm, and then Admiral and Penis turned their gaze to the cheering Shitty.

"AAAAAYYY, LET'S GO DADDY!" the squirrel man screeched, wild laughter shorting out the discord voice chat, making him go quiet in patches when the volume overloaded the client. Behind him, Admiral quietly started building a chair out of birch fence posts and slabs.

"Not so fast, shit-ty-fart-baaaaa-byyyyy~, this isn't quite over yet!" Penis fucking chirped, barely holding back his laughter. "You're still a fucking traitor and we can't have you backstabbing us too. Get in the chair for Daddy, okay baby?"

Admiral finished the chair just in time for Shitty to turn around and see the completed monstrosity, shrieking dying off immediately. "Oh screw you, that's just mean. The Hell man? That's not a chair, that's illegal. If you want an electric chair or some shit, just ask. That's just sad." Mentally shrugging, Admiral lit up his work with a flint and steel while Penis pillared up above where Shitty was building an electric chair out of iron bars and trap doors. Admiral nudged Shitty into the chair, Penis dumped a bucket of lava over the edge of the pillar so it flowed over him, and Shitty started giving a soliloquy about how betrayal and how his love for his "Daddy" still "burned strong".

Like his dick. Apparently.

By the time the lava finally hit the floor and burned Shitty to death, Penis was crying with laughter, shrieking down the mike and banging on the desk hard enough to make him forget that his was still on the mouse, making him mine the block under him with the bucket and sending him hurtling to his fiery death too.

It was a good day... almost.

Because, as it turned out, shittyfartbaby69 was actually a tiktokker of some renown and his cam account had record everything. And he had uploaded the bit to tiktok, as you do, where it went viral, where it wasn't supposed to. And Milfboss, who had recently been uploading covers of herself singing old classic Minecraft songs, had attracted the Minecraft fandom kids to her twitter, where she had gone to post her rage about the events of her dethroning and Shitty's execution.

Penis SMP had gotten on. Fucking. Trending. And now everyone was demanding the full clip, their names, their Twitch streamer handles, their characters' backstories.

The masses wanted lore.

Penis watched in disbelief, head in his hands and mouth agape as sugar crash played over a clip of him killing Milf on loop.

They were making memes.

...Oh god. They were screwed.

[prettylilhalforc]

Forged in Conflict

After many a late night flitting between tumblr, Borderlands, and discord discussions with the lovely @lorecraft my brain could not shake a Luckyverse Borderlands AU with Triple Frontier boys.

Am pleased to present the first chapter of Forged in Conflict!

Summary: Dahl 12th Company, TangoFoxtrot Brigade have been assigned to secure an old asset planetside. Intel has it that a bunch of bandits are wreaking havoc on dig sites around a local settlement. Idiots trying to bust open an derelict mining facility for tech. Amateurs trying to on sell to Atlas.

Should be simple enough, right? Standard in and out.

Secure the asset, eliminate the threat, back to base in 72 hours flat. All wrapped up like a present on Mercenary Day.

Warnings: Military, allusions to violence and conflict, food.

Rating: M at most given the military themes

A/N: This will be more of a slow burn fic with each of the boys meeting their match. Cannot wait to introduce Lucky, Echo, IRIS and Teflon. This is gonna be so much fun!

Any and all feedback is most welcome!

Chapter 1 - Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

The scent of stale sweat hangs heavy in the recycled air. Hundreds of warm bodies fill the mess hall leaving little space to maneuverer. Unit upon unit of troopers lining the facility in orderly rows. Packed in tighter than vacuum sealed standard issue MREs.

Happens like groundhog day. Same routine over and over again.

Wake, eat, drills, eat, sleep.

Leaves him feeling little more than another cog in the fine-tuned military machine that is Dahl.

It’s stifling. Suffocating.

Maybe he’s just been stuck on base for too long. Maybe he just needs to head planetside. There’s this voracious itch that always rears its head between deployments. An uneasy tension sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach. Gnawing, screaming at him that more needs to be done and sitting here is just wasting time.

What good is a weapon in a fight if left unfired?

This was not what Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia signed up for when joining the Corp. Pipedreams and promises of jumping around the system, liberating settlements from the greedy grip of Atlas. Putting down bandit scum.

Life on Pandora prepped him for action, for violence.

Not the bureaucracy of the corporate military industrial complex.

Hoo’ fucking rah.

“Need some motor oil?”, a deep voice cuts through Pope’s musing, Ironhead giving him a knowing look.

“Wha-?”

Santiago’s eyes refocus. Physically shunted back into reality by a light shoulder check from the young blond adjacent to him.

“Can practically hear the gears crunching in your head, Pope.”

Will. Now there’s a company man through and through. Six foot and build like a brick house. Keen blue eyes that shine with something purely predatorial. Nothing gets past his gaze. Lives and breathes the life.

Nerves of steel and unwavering discipline earnt him the well-deserved moniker Ironhead.

Regimented. Reliable. Never fails under fire.

Dahl ‘til the day he dies.

“I hate being… stuck. Feel useless.”

Elbows braced on the slick steel benchtop, Pope runs both broad hands through his salt and pepper undercut. Pulling at strands. Trying to find a physical reset to pull him back from the frustration welling in his chest.

“I geddit. It’s driving me nuts, man, sitting here not doing anything.”

Now, Ben, the boy wonder, is pure unadulterated chaos. If Ironhead is a Doberman, then Benny is a damn Retriever chasing down a car on the highway. Kid had a good heart and boundless energy. Though doesn’t know do with it half the time.

Doesn’t think too often, just feels. Get’s him all sorts of situations.

Fortunately, The Miller boys made one hell of a team in combat. The Hellhounds from Hieronymous. Ironhead’s tactical efficiency paired with Wonderboy’s unbridled fury burnt through scores of Atlas platoons on tour. It was enough for brass to look the other way when it came to the frequent indiscretions they found themselves in.

“You hear that Lima Charlie got shipped to Elpis after Zarpedon’s crew went dark? Fucking bullshit man. Why do we get stuck here while- ”

“Better not let Redfly hear you saying that, hermano, especially after last month’s stunt. You’re lucky all you got was a week in the hole.”

Fish interrupts Ben with a look that can only be described as fatherly disappointment, grease-stained hand waving his fork about to about drive point home. Though underneath the worn cap his warm eyes give away everything, brimming with mirth.

Before Atlas. Before the exodus.

Pope swears he would have lost his humanity years ago if Fish hadn’t have kept him grounded. Practically inseparable, the two pulled each other out of scraps since they were knee high in Haven.

Frankie, ever the voice of reason, reminded Pope why they joined the Corp in the first place.

The guy was too honest for his own good. Has a big heart and wears it on his sleeve for all the world to see.

Made cleaning house during poker night a walk in the park.

“Yeah yeah, flyboy. Wouldn’t have been a problem if that snitch from Whiskey Kilo kept his big mouth shut.”

Benny petulantly spears at a suspect lump slathered in gravy on his tray, nostrils flaring.

“Well, it’s certainly shut now. Wired shut. Heard from Ty in medbay Phillips won't be having any solids until next month” Pope can’t help but chime in, it was a small comfort to know he wasn’t the only one grappling with the inertia being stuck shipside.

A collective chuckle erupts from the group and with that Benny's pout is wiped clean. Boyish face cracks into a smug grin.

And who could blame him?

Kid has a left hook that would floor a bullymong.

Conversation soon flows easily, falling into hopeful speculation about the next operation.

Tensions have escalated as of late between major intergalactic powerhouses. The system is on the precipice of a second Corporate War.

It's not just Dahl and Atlas duking out for supremacy across the stars.

Hyperion has begun to stake their claim, planet by planet. Peacocking with the latest in loader tech. Bunch of Machiavellian suits parading around as soldiers. Would sell their own grandmother to make a profit. And what they couldn't buy, they were willing acquire through "aggressive negotiation".

And Vladof, bunch of commie bastards, took glee in sabotaging years of blood, sweat and tears for the sake of glorious revolution. Whatever that meant. Why waste manpower when you can incite the masses to do your dirty work for you?

The desperate push for colonization in the most bizarre locations didn’t make any tactical sense whatsoever.

Something bigger was going on than just a turf war over resources. Not when this many players had come to the table. Stakes must be high.

“Nice to know that you boys are itching for action.”.

By pure reflex the four rise to their feet. Backs straight. Eyes forward. Jaws tight.

Chairs clatter across the hull floor, food all but forgotten.

The crimson glare shoots pure ice down Pope’s spine. Every damn time feels like someone walked over his grave. No matter how long he served, could never get used to it. Cybernetic eye picking apart every detail of the crew before him with clinical precision.

Captain Tom ‘Redeye’ Davis.

Takes a particular kind of individual rise through the ranks in the Corp. A certain cold bloodedness that makes a man willing to put the mission above all else. Hardly a surprise for a seasoned Dahl Mercenary. Redfly had a track record that would make any C.O. green with envy.

The company couldn’t fault him, no matter how harsh his methods. Ran tight crew and expected nothing but excellence. The Corp chewed up and spat so many bodies in the field, there was little room for complacency.

Or mercy.

“Fortunately for you, Brass has something that will scratch itch. Section-312, Intel Room 4. I expect you all there at nineteen hundred TangoFoxtrot. Copy?”

“Sir, yes Sir!”

“At ease soldiers.”

Will shoots Pope a wry smile that spreads across the crew like wildfire. It says it all.

Ask and ye shall receive.

[bqstqnbruin]

Paper Rings

So yes, it is 2 am and here I am just finishing this, but oh well (ignore typos, I’ll probably reread it in the morning and catch them all. Or point them out, I’m fine with that). But keep supporting the Black Lives Matter movement! If you want or need any resources I’m totally happy to help you find them! OR you have any that you wanna share, please do!

Shout out to @bandgirlsclub​ for helping me with the Instagram part, she’s the greatest and you should read all her stuff!!

This was requested and inspired by Paper Rings by Taylor Swift. I hope you like it!

____________________

March

“We’ve been here for twenty minutes and they’re already stoned out of their minds?” you say to your friend, your voice high like it does when you can’t believe the world around you. You weren’t one to smoke, and normally you didn’t care if people did, but when you didn’t know anyone around you besides your friend from work, you started to worry.

“We were late, and they live here. It’s no big deal. Like you always say, you don’t care if people do it as long as they’re safe and they don’t make you do it if you say no,” she says, going to join them. You stood off in the corner, just watching the scene unfold; you hated being the only sober one at a party, but it looks like that was going to happen tonight. 

“So you’re not one to smoke, either?” someone says, startling you.

“Oh, my god. Uh, no, clearly I’m paranoid enough as it is.” 

You both start laughing, him handing you the drink that was in his hand. You look down at the clear liquid, not sure what it is. You look back up at him, eyebrow raised, lifting the cup to your nose to see if it smelled like vodka.

“It’s just water. Something tells me you need to stay sober tonight, too.” He gestures over to your friend, whos already giggling like nobody’s business. Apparently, you were either going to be staying over at whoever’s place this was, or you were going to have to get her home. 

“Are you the babysitter tonight?” you ask.

He nods his head, his curls bouncing as he does, “That and I have to be up early tomorrow and something tells me that a hangover and traveling across the country isn’t the best combination.”

“You get to travel for work? I would love a job like that.” 

“Uh, yeah. What do you do?” 

You roll your eyes, exhaling. “I’m an HR rep for an insurance company. It’s so exciting,” you say with the most sarcastic tone. You didn’t hate your job, but you would give anything to do something else if the money wasn’t so good. “What do you do?”

“I play for the Avalanche.” 

You nearly spit out the water right in his face, “Like the hockey team?”

“Do you know of another Avalanche I could play for?”

“Touche.” 

You spend the rest of the night talking to Tyson, as he said his name was, while everyone around you just kept smoking whatever they had. You ended up on the balcony of the apartment, looking up at the sky, a breeze cooling you off in what was otherwise an unseasonably warm night for the end of March. 

“It’s amazing how many stars you can see considering how close we are to the city,” you say, breathing in the clean air. You couldn’t remember the last time you say the sky this clear and naturally bright. It was calming, the moon bringing out a more tranquil presence than you had expected. 

“Sometimes when we don’t stay directly in the city we’re playing in I’ll go up to the roof at night and just look up. It’s easy to get lost in the stars even when you’re down on Earth.” 

“For a hockey player, you sure have a way with words,” you tease, knocking your shoulder against him as the two of you lean on the railing of the balcony.

“And for someone in HR, you’re surprisingly likeable.”

You turn to him, not sure if you should be shocked or flattered, “How many unlikeable HR people do you know?”

“I’m basing everything off Toby from The Office.” 

“Toby was not that bad! He was just...weird.” You both laugh and launch yourselves into a debate about the TV show, talking for hours until the sun starts to come up. 

“Shit, I didn’t realize it was this late. Early?” you say, turning to look inside. Everyone was still your, your friend on the couch while the guys around her were on the floor, all asleep. 

“Yeah, but I’m guessing you don’t need to be up in,” he runs his hand through his hair, checking the time on his phone, “Fuck, I need to be with the guys in less than an hour! I have to go!” He gets up, reaching for his keys in his pocket. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N. I really do hope we can see each other again.” And just like that, he leaves.

You sit there, shocked that the night actually just happened. That was easily the best night you’ve had in a while. The last time you stayed up like that was probably the night after your high school prom, talking with your best friend and now ex-boyfriend. You want to see him again, but if he’s a professional athlete who couldn’t even get your information, then what was the point?

“Hey, babe. Do you want to go back to your place or mine?” You practically jump out of the chair that you had been sitting in, falling asleep after finding Tyson on Instagram and following him. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

“Wanna get food first? I was promised dinner last night and ended up drinking a lot of water instead,” you say, checking your phone. 

Tyson Jost (josty17) started following you.

“Sure. The dinner down the street from work?” she suggests, pulling you up out of the chair, going back inside. 

As you’re careful not to step on anyone who’s still asleep on the floor, your phone dings with another notification from Instagram: josty17 sent you a message.

“I’m down.”

June

Four. Four books was all he had on his nightstand, and all he seemed to have in his entire apartment. “We need a trip to Barnes and Noble or something, you need more stuff to read for me,” you whine, picking up one of the books you’ve already read twice since starting to date Tyson. You were lying on your back in his bed, holding the book up over your face and praying that you don’t drop it on yourself.

“Am I supposed to buy books for you?” he asks, flipping through the channels to find something to watch.

“Well, no, you could buy books for yourself and then I’ll read them once you’re done.”

“I don’t really read that much.”

“But reading’s fun!” you say as he looks at you, his eyebrow raised. “Oh, stop that, you just need to find the right book.” 

“And I’m assuming you have a list of books that you want me to get?” he teases, jabbing his hand into your side to tickle you.

“Yes, stop that!” you let out, not hiding your laughter but almost kicking him in the face in the meantime out of reflex, “Fiction or nonfiction?”

“You’re gonna tell me both, aren’t you?” He looks at you, smiling as you nod your head. Rolling his eyes, he says, “Go ahead.”

“Well I personally love Educated by Tara Westover, Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston-”

“Woah there,” he cuts you off, putting his hand over your mouth to get you to stop talking, “I need more than just titles here if I’m gonna buy them. You don’t judge a book by it’s cover.”

“Gross, cliches. But you actually want to hear me sit here and talk about the books I like?”

“You’re cute when you talk about things you’re passionate about, and you hate your job so it doesn’t happen often.” 

“Two cliches in like five minutes? That’s gotta be a new record for you, Josty.”

You both start laughing as he turns his attention back to his TV, finally picking a channel to settle on before turning back to you. “I know it’s only been a few months, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”

You can’t help but smile at his third cliche. Third time really is the charm. “So,” you kiss his cheek, pulling away before he can turn and kiss you more, “Invisible Man is about an unnamed narrator; he’s a black man living in America before the Civil Rights movement, and it’s about how he feels as a black man in white America.” You spend the rest of the night telling him about all your favorite books, him nodding along and smiling as you don’t shut up, knowing that he won’t remember any of the book titles that you told him.

He just loved the way you got excited over stuff like this. 

January

“I feel like two gallons of paint is a lot for one room,” Tyson says, handing you the blue paint your brother asked you to pick up. He grabs the rest of the supplies from the back seat of your car to lug up to your brother’s new place. He bought it as his first home with his new wife and asked you to help them paint it. It was getting you a free dinner, so why not?

“We’re only doing his bedroom today and apparently two gallons is enough for a standard-sized room, whatever that means.” You walk up the path to his new house. It was the first time you had seen it, so you were excited to go in even though you knew everything was covered in tarps and plastic.

“My little sister!” Tommy yells as soon as you approach the door. You didn’t even have the chance to knock, him startling you and causing you to almost drop the cans of paint right on his porch.

“Hey, jackass,” you say, bitter that he scared you.

“And you must be Tyson,” Tommy says, taking some of the supplies from him and leading you into the house. 

“Uh, yeah, nice to meet, you,” he responds, clearly a little confused by the ‘jackass’ greeting. You might have forgotten some details about yours and your brother’s relationship on the drive over. It was the one where insults like jackass and dumb shit were terms of endearment. 

“Shit, bub, you have a nice place!” you look around, admiring it. “Erica must have been so happy when you found this.” 

“She was ecstatic. She was even happier when you agreed to help paint for the price of some dinner.” 

“Painting is calming and food tastes even better when it’s free, how can I say no?” 

He opens the door to the room at the end of the hall. “This is the master. Do you guys want to paint here while Erica and I finish the guest room and work on the living room?” 

“Yeah, works for us,” Tyson answers for you. 

Tommy leaves the two of you alone to start painting the entire room. You open the can of paint, revealing a light blue paint. 

“Remember that night last month when one of the guys dared us to jump in the pool?” you ask Tyson as he pours the paint into the tray.

“Yeah, why?”

“This is the color of blue that I thought we were going to turn if we stayed in the water any longer.”

“Ya know, you’re the only girl I’ve dated that would complain about being in the water with such a hot guy,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, so you’ve dated actual psychopaths?” You joke, rolling the first coat of paint on the wall. 

“I’ve only dated one psychopath, and that’s you. But everyone’s a little crazy, most people just call it unique.” 

“Can I ask you how many girls you’ve actually dated?”

“You can ask but do I have to answer?” he says, your backs facing each other as you paint opposite walls.

“Please? I’ll tell you mine. Oh come on, what couple doesn’t talk about their old relationships?”

“Healthy ones?”

“Tys.”

“Fine. I’ve been in three serious relationships, or I guess relationships lasting more than four months, not including ours, and one really serious relationship.”

“What’s the difference between the serious ones and the really serious one?”

“Wait, no. Your count and then I’ll tell you.”

You roll your eyes knowing that he can’t see you, letting out a sigh. “A boyfriend in highschool and one in college. Now you.” 

“No way,” he says, turning towards you to get more paint. 

“What do you mean? I’m not the type to date around. If I’m going to date the guy I want to make sure it has potential for something that’s more than a fling.”

“Well, how can you grow as a person if you don’t give other people a chance? Isn’t it an important part of life to get hurt sometimes?”

“I’m not saying I’ve never gotten hurt before, I just wasn’t in a relationship when I did.” 

“How does that work?”

“I thought this was I ask, you answer, you ask, I answer?” you ask, whipping around. Tyson was already facing you when the excess paint comes flying off your roller and splatters across Tyson’s face and chest. “I am so sorry!” 

He gets a mischievous look on his face as he dips his hand in the can of paint, “No, no, no!” you screech as he splatters you with paint. The two of you start throwing paint at each other, at one point Tyson grabbing you by the face right after he put his hands in the can. 

You’ve wasted half a can of paint on each other when Tommy comes knocking on the door, “What the hell are you two doing? Is this some sort of kinky sex thing?”

You scream, grabbing onto Tyson out of reflex, “That is not something I would talk about with you, and no! Go back to your wife!” Tommy just shrugs and leaves, closing the door slowly behind him. “Was this a fight?” you ask Tyson once you hear your brother go down the stairs.

“Maybe? We can say yes. What kind of couple doesn’t fit?”

“Weird ones,” you say, both of you laughing as your dripping with paint. 

“I love you,” he says, “And I want to kiss you, but I don’t think the paint would taste good.”

“I love you, too. But yeah, no. Please don’t eat the paint.” 

December

“Why are you giving me the cold shoulder all of a sudden?” Tyson asks, walking hand in hand with you through the streets of Denver. 

You stop and pull him aside, “I don’t think you understand what the cold shoulder is.” 

“It’s when someone is intentionally unfriendly.” 

“Am I being unfriendly”?

“You haven’t talked to me since we left the restaurant.” 

“I’ve been thinking!” you defend yourself. When you get deep in thought, you sort of shut down from the world around you. You still move about like a normal person, but the interaction between you and other people is minimal. 

“Thinking about what?” He lifts your chin, trying to get you to look at him. You bite your bottom lip. He knows you’re thinking about something that’s bothering you.

“How long is this going to last since you’re always going to practice and traveling?” 

Since that night you met, you had been talking nonstop. You feel hard and fast for this boy who was never home at the start of whatever relationship you had with him. Once his season was over, he started taking you out on dates; the two of you probably went on actual dates at least twice a week, and hung out the other five nights at your apartment, his apartment, or at whatever party one of you had been invited to. He was your boyfriend in every sense of the word, but would that end once the season starts. 

“What do you want to happen?” he says, smiling, pulling you closer to him.

“Well, I like what we have. I don’t want it to end.” 

“I wasn’t planning on ending it, where you?”

“No.” 

“Then why worry?”

“I mean, do you want this last?”

“Of course I do. Come on.” He puts his arm around your shoulder, leading you down the street. He takes you into a Target, “Whatever you want, I will buy you.” 

“That’s dangerous, bud. You know what I’m like in Target,” you tell him as he steers you towards the jewelry department. 

“What about this?” he says holding up a ring.

“Is that just a ring, or is that a promise ring?”

“What do you want it to be?” 

“It’s going to be nothing if you don’t start making decisions!” You both start laughing as he slips the ring onto your right ring finger. 

“I like a promise ring.” 

“Wait, actually,” you say, taking the ring off and grabbing Tyson’s hand, “Come with me.”

You lead him to the party section of the store, down the aisle with all the tissue paper. “Pick a color.”

He looks at all the options, the solid colors, striped pastels, polka dots, rainbow, scalloped paper. “I like the red.”

“No. Green,” you ignore him, picking up the package of green tissue paper and pulling him down on the floor to sit with you.

“Then why did you ask?” he cries as you tear open the package, “Um, isn’t this stealing?” 

“No, you’re gonna pay for this. What you’ve never opened a bag of chips and snacked while shopping before?” He laughs at you as you start folding the paper into strips. You reach for his right hand, wrapping and folding the paper so that it stays on his ring finger. You do the same thing for yourself, holding your hand up to admire it.

“What is this?” he asks, smiling, shifting his gaze between the ring and you.

“Paper rings. I like these better. I don’t need something flashy from you to prove that you want to stay with me,” you say as he pulls you up off the floor, pulling you into a hug, “Plus $1.59 is a lot less of a financial burden than any ring that I probably wouldn’t wear.” 

“I love it,” he says, kissing the top of your head as you walk to the register to buy your rings. 

September, three years later

“Happy anniversary, babe,” you say, hugging Tyson from behind and kissing him on the cheek as he sits at the kitchen table, the dinner he made sitting in front of him.

“Happy anniversary, my beautiful wife.”

“Can you believe we’ve already been married for a year?”

“And yet it feels like I’ve known you forever.” 

You start laughing, nearly spitting out the wine that you were drinking. “There’s that cliche crap I love from you.” 

“Do we want to do presents now or after we finish eating?”

“That depends: is the gift something that actually can be given right now before the food gets cold?”

He stops for a moment before realizing what you mean, “One of them yes, the other is definitely in the bedroom.” He puts a large box on the table, wrapped neatly with a bow.

“I have to go get yours, wait!” you say, running down the hall to the closet where you were keeping his.

“Open yours first!”

You take off the bow, ripping through the paper. Inside the box are a bunch of books: Their Eyes Were Watching God, Educated, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, The Blind Side, and Native Son. “Are these all the books that I suggested to you years ago?”

“Some of them, yeah. The others I actually got and have been reading on the road using the Kindle App on my phone. Who would have thought books were good?”

“You sound like an idiot. But I love this! I can’t believe you remembered!” You get up and kiss him, shoving the gift you got him in his face. “Now it’s your turn!”

He opens the bag, his face lighting up when he sees what it is. Last season, the Avalanche won the division, winning the Campbell trophy. You and some of the other wives and girlfriends were allowed on the ice, you jumping into Tyson’s arms as he lifted you up and kissed you. Someone got a series of pictures of that night, and you got them framed for him. “Babe. I love this.” 

“I think we set the bar too high for anniversary gifts,” you say as he kisses your cheek. 

“Yeah, next year I’m just going to sleep with you.”

“Tyson!” you squeal, throwing a piece of lettuce at him from the bowl of salad that was in front of you. “That’s so crude!”

“Yeah, maybe. But I have one more gift for you tonight.” 

He puts a small box on the table in front of you. “What is this?”

“Well, open it!” 

You shake your head, smiling at how eager he was. What could it be? Inside the box are two green pieces of paper. “Are these the paper rings we made at Target? You kept these?”

“Yeah. You said that you didn’t need jewelry to know that we were going to stay together. That was the night I knew you were the one, craziness and all.”

You can’t help but start crying over how sweet that was. You couldn’t believe he had kept something like two pieces of tissue paper. How many people can say paper rings were a symbol of their relationship?

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-two: heart of gold

“i wanna live, i wanna give, i’ve been a miner for a heart of gold. it’s these expressions that i never give: that keep me searching for a heart of gold.” -”heart of gold”, neil young

Oswego was a rather tightly woven little dot upon the southeastern shore of Lake Ontario, at least according to Joey. He also explained that the nuclear power plant on the far side of town was so set apart from everything else that it seemed to come from another world altogether. He made a joke about the river waters being radioactive but it only made Sam wary of everything around there.

“Nah—they haven't had a meltdown up there,” he assured her, “that's just the whole joke about being from here is all. That we all glow in the dark like a buncha of glow sticks or sump'n.” But then he drove them back to his place down in a town known as Camillus, not too far on the outskirts of Syracuse.

“Hang on, I thought you lived closer to New York City,” Sam confessed.

“I mean, it technically is—about a half an hour less of a drive. Oh, you talking about my old place? I had to move back around here in March 'cause that drive was getting treacherous in its own rite and rent was getting to be too much. I would'a told you sooner but—you know. Things happen. I'm making a little bit more money than I was before so I was able to do it.”

“Right, right, right.” Sam flashed back and when she, Frank, and Charlie had to rescue him from the snow.

“Besides, I was startin' to miss this part of upstate, as you'll see here in a couple of minutes.”

Despite the darkness, the orange and yellow trees that lined the landscape made her think of fire or the cotton balls she would find a craft shop. The nondescript edge of town reminded her of California as well as the outskirts of Reno and Carson City. The two lane highway turned into a four lane main street and she spotted the faint line of lights over a ridge on the southern side of town: the brightest yellow light shone out from the top part of the ridge. Sam glanced about the block for anything notable to recall for the next time she visited.

“Not much here,” she remarked.

“Nah, there really isn't,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “'Swaygo is even worse as we'll see tomorrow. But every part of this is home to me. I was born in 'Swaygo and I grew up all around here. Even though I've moved outta 'Swaygo, I still call it home.”

They rolled up to a stoplight and Sam peered across the intersection to the long low brick building nestled next door to a fuel station. She recognized a paint palette over the front window and a line of big bold text right over it.

“Is that an art store?” she asked with a gesture out the windshield.

“It sure is!” he declared. “Given it's night time and we're a buncha hicks 'round here, they're closed for the night. But we can go in there tomorrow if you'd like.”

“Yeah, I kinda need something to make an artistic rendering of you,” she explained, “and even though I have plenty of things back home for that, it's still a four hour drive regardless.”

The light turned green and they lunged forward. They drove past the art store and a mere white light shone in the front window: she knew that tomorrow was going to be quite the eventful for them as Joey hung a right past the shop.

“Right down this way,” he explained as they drove down the dark side street to the very end. He reached the stop sign and he peered both ways about the dark neighborhood. No one coming.

He rolled forward to the low apartment complex right in front of them, such that it took her by surprise.

“Yeah, it surprised my mom when I brought my parents along when I moved in here,” he told her; even in the dim light, she could make out the sight of that lopsided grin upon his face. Even though he had just turned twenty six, he still resembled to a little boy with that smile on his face and that twinkle in his eyes even in the darkness.

They bounded into the driveway and then they posted up at the big cube of silver mailboxes.

“Gotta check it out first,” he told her as he unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of his car. He rounded the front end, and the headlights shone upon his slender body as he made his way over to the mailboxes. Sam watched him fetch for the mail but then she noticed the soft glow of the headlights on the back of his curls. It was right there she wanted to draw him and then to paint him out with oil paints. Not watercolor, not acrylic, but oil paints.

She hadn't worked with oil paints before, but she wanted to do it right there for him.

He returned to the driver's seat with a little pink sheet of paper in hand.

“Gotta care package from my aunt,” he told her.

“Oh, boy!” she declared.

“I can't get it right now, though—tomorrow is gonna be quite full for the both of us.”

He started up the car again and they made their way over to the building on the right. Right before their parking spot stood a little walkway that extended around the building and into the darkness. Joey led Sam around the corner to a low doorstep and a cold blue door: when he unlocked the door, he let her go inside of the dark and cool apartment first. When she was inside, he reached for the light switch on the wall. It was a small place: they stood in the living room right there, which consisted of nothing more than a small thread bare gray couch and a small side table with a black lamp and a low glass coffee table; an eggshell colored vent about the width of the door itself stood on the left side of the room. Right in front of them was the kitchen, a narrow sliver of a room rounded by a low table with three chairs. To her right was a stone stairwell which led up to the loft.

“I assume that's your room upstairs?” she asked him with a point to the stairs.

“Sure is. Bathroom's up there, too, and—I think I have a spare tooth brush in my medicine cabinet. I'll haveta check 'cause I know how sucky the aftertaste of coffee can be, especially this time of day. But in the meantime, make yourself at home here, Sam I am.”

He shut the door behind him and he darted up the stone steps. Sam peered about the small living room: right behind her was a tiny television with rabbit ears over the top; a long low barren bookshelf, barren saved for a small handful of books and a few stacks of vinyl; another lamp up top with a cream colored lampshade, and a small hockey trophy. She stooped down for a look at the bookshelf: nothing she had heard of herself, but it was in fact comforting to see that Joey did have another nuance to him. She eyed the vinyl records, at all the Journey and Led Zeppelin, Foreigner and the Beatles, Deep Purple and Rush, Kansas and Yes. She let her eyes wander over the record player itself, tucked behind the television and with the cable coiled up on top of the protective glass. She wished for her copy of Spreading the Disease to merely appear before her just so she could play it right then and there.

“Yeah, I do have a spare one,” he was saying as he descended the stairs, and he stopped right in his tracks. Sam turned her attention to his standing on the bottom step. Joey showed her another little grin.

“Ah, I see you found my music collection,” he proclaimed; he lay the head of the plain red toothbrush in one hand as if it was a club.

“Of course,” she declared with a beaming smile on her face. She lifted herself into an upright position and brushed herself off even though the floor was clean.

“I learned to sing by singing to songs from the Beatles and Journey, y'know,” he said as he neared her, “I literally would sit in my parents' living room and listen to records on their player and try to sing along to the Fab Four and Steve Perry. I'd also sing to Foreigner and Rush, and that was how my voice came to be so high and light.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” she added.

“Gotta start somewhere, right,” he echoed, and he handed her the toothbrush.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft voice as if he had just given her the best gift ever.

“I also hate to make you sleep on the couch,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just think back to how uncomfortable we both were in the cabin last year for my birthday.”

“No, no, no—it's okay,” she assured him, and she couldn't think of anything else to follow up to that.

“It is pretty comfy,” he continued on. “I've napped on it many times before. One time, I came home at three o'clock in the morning and I pretty much collapsed onto it face down ass up. I actually woke up face down ass up. That's how comfy that couch is—I slept for four hours in that position. Wouldn't use one of those pillows, though—it's hard on the neck.”

“Do you have a spare pillow?” she asked him.

“I do, as a matter of fact.”

“Do you have a blanket?”

“I have many. Sam, this is upstate New York and I've lived out here the twenty six years I've been alive—we gotta have a shitload of blankets and a warm place to sleep at otherwise no one can survive up here. You can use a bit of my toothpaste, too.”

“Good to know,” she confessed as she tapped the head of the toothbrush against the inside of her palm. “'Cause—I gotta get this taste of coffee out of my mouth.”

* * * * *

Sam jerked over onto her side there on the couch cushions. Joey was in fact right about the couch: it was comfortable. Almost too comfortable. She had a difficult time even so much rolling over on her side or onto her back. She had woken up twice throughout the night but she had fallen back asleep. Perhaps it was from laying in a bed different from hers that threw her off a bit.

The spare soft pillow cradled her head: she sighed through her nose and kept her eyes shut against the rich darkness before her. The only sound came from the pipes running in the wall and Joey's slow, gentle breathing upstairs.

She thought about the incident with Alex back at the coffee house and that little raise of his eyebrows. He had softened for her a little bit right there, even with Joey right behind her ready to beat him down yet again. She barely knew the young man and he looked at her like that because of her past with Cliff.

She couldn't stop seeing it over and over again inside of her mind. Not to mention that little sliver of gray hair over his brow kept reappearing in her mind.

She thought about the mysterious man and the stripe in his hair. No way that was him, even though he shared a lot of similar looks to him. The stripe was far too big and Alex had too soft of a face as well. And yet she wondered about him. One thing that baffled her about him was his referring to Joey as her boyfriend. As far as she knew, he only saw them together that one time, unless he saw more of what Joey was doing at the memorial than she did: it made no sense to her.

It was all so much to think about that she wound up falling asleep again.

No sooner had Sam fallen back to sleep when she woke up yet again, that time to the sound of a heavy rain outside of the apartment window right in front of her. Joey yawned upstairs and cleared his throat. She opened her eyes and soft bluish gray light shone through the heavy white blinds.

Joey cleared his throat again.

“Hey, Sam, you awake?” he called out to her.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes.

“Sam?”

“Yeah—I just woke up. Why? What's up?”

“Kinda hungry right now. You want some breakfast?”' “Please,” she said in a broken voice.

She heard Joey climbing out of bed up there, and then he padded down the stone steps.

After a brew of coffee and a bite of biscuits and gravy courtesy of him, they climbed back into his car and drove down the block to that art store right as it opened for the day.

There were only six aisles before her, but she knew it was all for the best with all the smallness of the town. She couldn't hardly resist that new art supply smell as she picked out a pair of paint brushes and some acrylic paints: she had considered those beautiful oil paints but she wasn't willing to bust down for a can of turpentine, nor was she willing to fill Joey's apartment with that acrid odor. A brand new medium for herself and for Joey as well.

Meanwhile, Joey himself checked out the little wooden blank mannequins on the other side of the room: he picked one of the smaller ones for a closer look. Sam watched him move the arms about for the perfect pose. He set down the mannequin and he posed in its wake, as if he was ready to pose for her when they got the chance that weekend. But she couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of him.

Once she had picked out a canvas and spent the rest of the spare change in her pocket, she and Joey made their way back out to the lake effect rains.

“I got a little something waiting for us back at my place,” he said once they ducked back into the car in unison.

“Like what?” she asked him, but he didn't reply to her. He never did reply to her as they returned to the apartment and she set her things down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Joey ducked into the kitchen for something: Sam took the plain off white canvas out into the open. She ran her hand across the heavy grain of the canvas: like a thick heavy rug right underneath her skin.

“Sam?” he called to her. She raised her gaze to the counter top, and the tall brown glass bottle right before him, right in between his hands. She spotted the label on the front side there and her heart skipped several beats at the sight of it.

“Joey,” she begged as she shook her head at that. “Joey, please don't.”

“Why?” He frowned at her.

“Because it has booze in it.”

“And?”

“Joey, please,” she pleaded as she stood to her feet and scrambled closer to him. “I want you to stay away from the booze for a time.”

He never changed his expression at the sight of her.

“Why? It's just you and me here. And it's a whole weekend, too. You've got time before you gotta mosey on back to school.”

“Joey—you don't want to go there right now.”

“What? It's just one drink, though.”

“Yes, and one drink leads to a second one and a third one. It happened at the restaurant with all of us there before—and it'll happen again.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip and she watched his hand as it rested on the bottle neck. His fingers stayed curled around the smooth glass. It was dead silent in that room: silent save for her own shuddered breath.

“What if I told you,” he began in a low voice, “that I feel better stripping down to bare skin with a drink in me?”

“Just one?” she demanded.

“Just one.”

“I'll stand here while you drink it down, though. I need you to be as clear as possible to boot.”

“Clear but also loose.”

“Exactly,” she said, reluctant. Joey pried off the cap and he tipped the bottle back into his mouth. She set her hands on the edge of the counter and watched him. He drank it down in four large gulps, and he ran his tongue around his lips like that of a snake.

He fluttered his eyelids at her and set the bottle down on the counter in between them. She scanned his face and at his brown eyes in particular. Even in a few seconds time, she could see the effects of it overcoming him. The canvas and the paints awaited her.

“Let your clothes fall to the floor,” she told him in a low voice. He stuck out his tongue at her, and then he cracked a little grin at her.

“Come on—let them fall right off of your body.

He unfastened the button on those tight jeans and he let them fall down his legs towards his feet.

“D'you take your shoes off?” she asked him.

He then stooped down and pried off his shoes.

“I have now,” he said as he kicked off his jeans and left them there on the linoleum. He then peeled off his shirt and lay it across the counter.

“Man, you do not hold your liquor well, do you?” she joked.

“I dunno 'bout that,” he admitted; he stood there in his underwear right before her with a giddy look on his face. Sam frowned at him and she set one hand on her hip.

“What's the matter?” he asked her.

“Take off your underwear.”

“Why?”

“Don't question it. Just do it.”

He sighed through his nose and then he slipped his thumbs inside of that elastic band. He let them fall onto the floor, right next to his jeans. Sam gestured for him to follow her.

“Right over here,” she encouraged him in a gentle tone; and she led him to the middle of the living room, right in front of the coffee table. “Hang on a second—”

She doubled back to the kitchen table for a chair, and she brought it back to him. A perfect fit in between the coffee table and the vent on the wall.

“Have a seat.”

Joey plunked down on the cushion and spread his legs out a little bit for her to see in between his thighs.

“Want me to pose for ya?” he cracked as he raised his arms over his head.

“No. Just sit normal. Let me see you. Let me see you in your entirety.”

Joey set those large hands on either side of his hips, right on the edge of the seat. Sam headed into the kitchen for a wash basin.

“There's an empty pickle jar right there next to the sink,” he told her; indeed, there was, so she picked it out and filled it with clean cool water from the faucet. She returned to him and picked up the paint brush. The sole light came from the kitchen and from the window on the side of the room but it proved to be enough for her. A nice moody painting for the man himself.

Even with the cool lighting in that apartment, there was a bit of a sheen to his skin, especially right around his knees and his ankles. A healthy shine of sorts upon the rich darkness about his skin, and one that she was eager to cover with her paint brush.

She didn't have her pencil in hand, but she could have a good look at his slender nude body before her. He had eaten and drank down a bit of alcohol: he was full enough for her and those soft yellow and brown tones for his skin.

She thought about Alex and the little pearl of gray hair over his forehead. She gazed at the painted head on the paper, at Joey's head of black curls. A fleeting thought crossed through her mind that told her to dip the brush into white paint and make a little pearl over his forehead. And yet she flashed back on their scuffle back at the coffee house: she need not draw attention to that, even if it was art.

Such a small, slender little body. Much like Cliff, he had a little crease in between his waist and his thighs as if he had had a belt there. Maybe it was just part of the male anatomy, to have that little crease there near their thigh region. If there was one thing she needed to polish up on in her future drawing classes, it was all of that. The taste of the fundamentals and perhaps running away with them more and more in her own artistry.

She used that one brush for his whole body and his thick black hair. A touch of blue all over and she had a portrait of Joey, done with nothing more than her and him in the safety and privacy of his own home.

“May I see it?” he asked her.

“Of course! You are the subject after all.”

She picked up the canvas and she showed it off to him, and he brought a hand to his chest.

“I don't have a pencil on hand so I just winged the whole thing,” she confessed, “so it's a bit rougher than I like and what I'm used to, too.”

“No, no, I love it! And it's not just the booze talking with that, either—that really looks like a Native American painting! I wanna share that with everyone now.”

“Well, it has to dry out first,” she told him as she placed it back down on the coffee table.

“Okay. Should I get dressed now?”

“Please,” she encouraged him with a gesture to him.

“I'll get dressed and I'll drive us up to 'Swaygo 'cause the day is still pretty young.”

“As long as you're up to par,” she pointed out. “I'm not riding in the same car with a drunk dude.”

“I ain't drunk, though—just kinda tipsy. I can talk you there, though, if you'd like.”

“Yeah, sure, I'll take that.”

Joey headed back into the kitchen for his clothes and his shoes. He then handed her the car keys and they strode on outside, where the rain had backed off a great deal into a fine drizzle. She climbed behind the wheel of his car: it felt like a million years since she last drove a car with all the rides she had gotten, from Charlie as well as the subways. But she managed to drive them up to Oswego, the city by the lake, by Joey's direction. Even with the one drink in his system, she could tell that he wasn't up to par to drive any distance, but he was lucid enough to tell her about it.

By the middle of the day, and by the time they had cleared a low rolling hill outside of Syracuse, she spotted the vast black sheet off in the distance and she knew that had to be Lake Ontario. The gray of the lake hung over that small city like a protective blanket, and she thought of the towns back in California, all the ones that lined the coastline and beckoned everyone with beaches, but there was something else to it. The gray washed over everything and left it all muted in its wake: the sole black and white light house off in the distance only added to the feeling of it all.

“So this is Oswego,” she declared. “This is where you grew up.”

“Born and raised!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “The lake looks so cold right now,” he added.

“I imagine the snow here getting crazy,” she said.

“Oh—the time you, Charlie, and Frankie had to come get me was only a little part of it. Up here, we really only got two seasons: winter and road work. If they aren't working on the roads, it's probably snowing a shitload. And we often get feet of snow down by the lake shore, too. Speaking of which, I think it might snow in a bit. It feels like snow and looks it, too.”

“Sounds like Carson,” she noted as they rolled up to the first stoplight. “Almost word for word. Except Carson and Reno are both in the desert rather than near a lake.”

“Huh. Wow.” He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, it's—kinda crazy to think about especially when I hear the same thing being said about a place that's still relatively new to me.”

He then turned his head in her direction.

“I think I like you, Sam,” he admitted in a soft voice.

“I have seen you after all,” she added.

“You've seen me in the buff. And—if I'm bein' perfectly honest, I kinda wanna see you do more of it.”

“You want me to do it again,” she stifled a chuckle.

“If ya don't mind,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I'll have a pencil next time. I'll also make sure you're genuinely comfortable, like I want to make you comfortable around me sans the alcohol.”

“You have a heart of gold, Sam,” he declared.

“Nah—you're the one with the heart of gold, Joey,” she said as the light turned green. “It's in there under all those proverbial scars. It just needs to be coaxed out.”

[fangirlshrewt97]

The Old Guard Fanfic - Good Books, Good Friends, and A Sleepy Vacation

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Booker & Nile

Characters: Nile Freeman, Booker | Sebastien Le Livre

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Additional Tags:  Family Bonding, Brother-Sister Relationships, Fluff, Family Feels, Vacation, Soft, Library, Books, Booksworms bonding over books basically, Mild Language, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Booker deserves a break, Nile deserves a chance to spend time with him

Summary:

“There are so many places I’ve never been, I don’t know where to start. Or even what I’d do.” she confesses. Booker hums, and Nile can feel him staring holes into her. She is still spinning the globe, gently tracing the borders on it when she hears the chair scrape behind her, and Booker’s footsteps approaching her. She turns when she feels the heat of a body at her back. Booker looks at her face before looking at the globe in her hands, gently taking it from her hands. He spins it once before stopping it mid-rotation. His fingers are on Canada. “Have you ever been to Quebec?”

Basically, Booker and Nile have a small vacation away from the others, and bond. Also they explore Booker's library.

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571494

                                                           ///

They take a break. Four months. Quynh’s return, Andy regaining her immortality, the fight that nearly costs them everything, Booker coming back too soon, Joe and Nicky nearly losing each other again. By the time the dust settles, even Nile is ready to sleep for a hundred years.

They decide to reconvene in London, at Copley’s house, specifically instructing him to leave them alone for the entirety of the break for anything short of an apocalypse occurring. Andy and Quynh are out the second Copley agrees, they don’t tell anyone where they are going, and everyone finds it best to leave the two oldest warriors alone. They have already died too many times that year. Joe and Nicky are next, saying they are going to Malta and leaving without a second look.

That leaves Booker and Nile staring at each other across from Copley’s dining table while the host himself looks torn between resignation and questioning his life choices. When Booker still looks like he is spooked to speak, Nile takes the initiative. “What are you going to do Booker?”

The Frenchman chews on his lip, a nervous habit Nile would not guess he had, before looking at her. He is sitting hunched in the chair, still trying to make himself look as small as possible, but only looking uncomfortable. “I’m not sure. You?”

Nile looks away from him, eyes moving across the room before finally settling on a small globe sitting atop a short cabinet. Crossing the room, she grabs the globe and gently spins it. “There are so many places I’ve never been, I don’t know where to start. Or even what I’d do.” she confesses.

Booker hums, and Nile can feel him staring holes into her. She is still spinning the globe, gently tracing the borders on it when she hears the chair scrape behind her, and Booker’s footsteps approaching her. She turns when she feels the heat of a body at her back.

Booker looks at her face before looking at the globe in her hands, gently taking it from her hands. He spins it once before stopping it mid-rotation. His fingers are on Canada. “Have you ever been to Quebec?”

Quebec is not quiet how she pictured it, although based on her limited American education, she may as well have been expecting a rural French city in the middle of modern Canada. Autumn has settled over the place, painting the leaves a familiar golden yellow and red, the scent of maple nearly overwhelming. Booker drives confidently, and in this city that still feels like France, but not haunted by the ghosts of his family, Nile seems his lose a few lines of tension she had not noticed he carried. It is not the first revelation she has during her trip there.

He takes her to a beautiful and quaint two story house, parking the car in the driveway. He goes to the trunk and takes out their bags before giving Nile her’s, and goes to open the door. The neighborhood is quiet, even at 2 in the afternoon, and it is so idyllic, Nile has to pinch herself to make sure this isn’t a dream. The home, and it is a home, full of touches of Booker in the way that house in Turkey had belonged to Joe and Nicky. A home where he lived, not a safe house he used to recuperate. Wooden floors, a living room with stairs leading upstairs and a kitchen behind the stairwell. Nile paused at the doorway, admiring how with every step, Booker seemed to shed a little more of the burden and grief he perpetually carried. She was taking off her shoes when Booker found her, a tray with two glasses and a jug of water. “Make yourself comfortable Nile.”

She followed him to the couches, two white sofas which could have been made from clouds with how much she sank into them. She must have made a noise before Booker snorted a laugh and handed her a glass. “The house is yours. Give me a few minutes, I will dig up an extra set of bed sheets and blankets for the guest room, you can use that for as long as you want. My bedroom will be at the end of the hallway, and the bathroom is between the two rooms, if you want to freshen up.”

A shower after the 15 hour flight seemed divine. “I’ll shower Booker.”

Booker nodded once. “Come, I’ll show you where you can keep your stuff.”

///

For the first two weeks Booker leaves her to her own devices, giving her a couple thousand Canadian dollars and telling her to have fun but stay safe. Nile develops a routine, waking up around 8, lazing about in bed and having a late breakfast around 10 before she was out of the house. Booker did not leave as much, but he always had something prepared for dinner, or take out ordered by the time Nile returned at night, and indulged her in her telling of the sights of the city.

As far as she could tell, Booker did not leave the house, he was always awake before she was, and went to bed after her. She also noticed that he did not seem to touch alcohol in the house. Or at least not when she could see. As the days passed, and more and more leaves fell, so did Booker’s grief. When Nile returned home, and hadn’t that made her pause, when had she started seeing this as home? When she returned one night, maybe a month into their vacation, she heard a record player singing an old track she had heard before but could not place.

As she neared the kitchen from where the sound was coming, she even heard singing, and when she peered into the open kitchen, found the man crooning softly to the song, hips barely swaying.

And his face, Booker almost looked happy. She must have gasped, because he turned to her. “You are getting more silent everyday Nile. Good. It is an important skill.” Booker said as he smiled at her. And damn, what a smile. It made her grin in response. She went and sat at the bar stool he had pointed to, placing her own offering on the table.

He laughed when he saw the box.

“Tim Horton’s?”

“I had a friend in college from Toronto. She used to drag us into every donut shop and then complain none of them were as good as these. Figured I should verify her claim.” she explained.

Booker had a happy glint in his eyes.

“You have a pretty smile.” And there she went putting her foot in her mouth. She could see the glint fading the smile shrinking. “No, I just meant I don’t think I have ever seen you smile.”

God, strike her down already, what was wrong with her. “Shit.”

Booker to his credit looked sad but recovered quickly, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “No, don’t be angry Nile. You are right. I am a miserable fucker to be around.”

“Book…”

“I just, I guess being here makes things a little easier. You’re the first I’ve brought here.” he admitted, looking straight at her.

Nile felt speechless at the admission. The implications, the trust of his actions, they were almost too large to comprehend. What did you say to a man who had put up walls all around his heart to protect himself from even more pain than the pain he carried already telling you he was opening a door into his heart for her?

“Tha-”

Booker shook his head, stopping her. “I don’t need you to thank me Nile. I told you on that balcony, and I stand by my words. You are exactly what we all needed. Without Quynh, Andy was functioning just enough to keep going, not living. Nicky and Joe were wrapped up in their own grief, their fear of suffering the same fate and it maifested by holding each other even tighter. When I joined…” he sighed as he rounded the table, sitting in the stool next to her. Nile was scared to breath too hard, afraid of ruining the moment. “When I joined, I had deserted my army, I ran back to my family even though they told me it wouldn’t be a good idea, I threw myself at everything that caused me pain, and my greatest mistake was failing to realize how much they cared for me Nile. I was so busy mourning the family I had lost, I couldn’t see how much the family I gained could give me. And that is something I will regret for the rest of my days, even after these 100 years pass.”

“To be fair, I don’t think they are going to actually keep you away for the remaining 97 years anyways.” Nile said, finally finding her words.

“They should, the betrayal, some days, I can barely look at myself in the mirror. Regardless. You are smart, and brave, and kind, and you taught them the joy of living again, showed them the purpose we have. You’ve shown it to me too.”

“I didn’t even see you for most of these three years.”

“Even those two days were enough to show me why it was you. Andy was ready to quit, ready to give up on the world, and then you showed up and reminded her again.”

“I just did what needed to be done.”

Booker laughed, but it was harsh and sharp. “Oh soeur, no, you could have walked away. You did not need to go back to Copley, you did not have to come to London. You could have just left us all to Merrick. That’s what I would have done.”

And Nile couldn’t exactly say anything contrary could she.

“Look, just take my word, for what it worth, that you are special, and I am grateful to have you in our lives.” Booker said, conviction so strong in his voice Nile nodded automatically.

“I am glad I met you all too.”

Booker shot her a wry grin and patted the hand she had on the countertop once before going to the record player which had stopped. He removed the record and placed it inside it’s pouch.

“Okay, enough of this feelings talk. I have prepared Canadian Poutine and must know what you think of it.”

Nile laughed.

“Hey, do you have plans for tomorrow?” he asked as he went to the stove. Nile shook her head.

“Not really. Why?”

Booker smiled. “Let me show you my library.”

“Your library?”

“My library.” Booker said, wicked smile in place.

The next day, Nile got ready as she usually did, but after breakfast, Booker guided her back upstairs and into a room opposite his bedroom she hadn’t really thought about.

She nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw the room, made fully of wood panelling, with bookshelves that ran the height and width of the wall, filled to the brim with books. Half the shelves were covered with glass panels, and the volumes behind it looked old. Booker leaned against the doorway as she explored the room.

She ducked to inspect a particular shelf filled with old looking tomes, checking with Booker before she opened the panel and slid the panel to remove one of the books. She nearly dropped it when she opened the front cover. “This- Book-”

In her hands, a faded but still legible note on the first page read

Dearest Sebastien,

I hope to see you again soon, and hear more of your adventures.

Yours sincerely,

Tolkien

“You knew Tolkien?” Nile exclaimed.

Booker chuckled. “He was a smart guy.”

He just laughed harder at Nile’s impression of a goldfish, with her wide eyes and open mouth.

“I like collecting first editions Nile.” he said in lieu of an explanation, gesturing to the shelves next to her. All of these are first editions, or as close as I could find. Several are gifts from the others too.”

“I- who, which other famous authors did you know?”

Booker grinned at her. “A few. But that is for another day. There are more books. Look around.” he said as he removed the tome from Nile’s hands, replacing it back in his collection.

Dumbfounded, Nile went back to looking at the collection. She noticed the books getting newer as she went around the room, until a familiar paperback caught her eye. Pulling it from the shelf, she couldn’t suppress her laugh.

“What?” Book asked, coming to see what she had chosen.

“Harry Potter?” Nile asked, mirth clear in her eyes.

Booker frowned before shrugging. “It was a good series. I got that book on it’s first day of sales”

For some reason, this just made her laugh harder, covering her face with the book. “Oh my god.”

“What is wrong with Harry Potter?” Booker asked, now looking slightly annoyed, arms crossed across her chest.

“Nothing is wrong with Harry Potter. I just. I remember going to our neighborhood bookstore and waiting in line when the last book went on sale, wanting to get it as soon as possible. And just. The idea that a 200-plus year old soldier from Napoleon’s army doing that same is just insane.”

Booker shot her a wide grin that just made her giggle.

“Yeah alright, that is funny.”

“Yeah it is. Let me guess, Ravenclaw?” Nile teased.

Booker raised an eyebrow at her. “Let me guess, Hufflepuff?”

Nile made a noise of protest. “Hufflepuff is a good house! It is not my fault no one ever talks about it!”

“Figures you would be a badger.”

“Hey, so long as we agree that the others are all Gryffindor and overrated, I have nothing to say against Ravenclaw.”

“Fair.” Booker said. They stared at each other for a beat. Then bent over laughing, Nile going so far as to sit on the carpet at the stupidity of the conversation. Booker was leaning against the shelves, and his own face was cracked wide open in a smile, making him look so much younger than Nile had ever seen him.

“One last question. What do you think of Snape?”

“Fuck that asshole.”

Nile laughed bright and loud as she allowed Booker to pull her up and take the book from her hand. “Good boy Book.”

Booker tutted and pulled one of her braids for it.

“Impertinent child. You need to learn to respect your elders.”

“Ow, not allowed Book.” Nile complained at the faint tug she honestly hadn’t felt at all.

“Choose a book to read Nile.”

Nile spun around the room slowly, chewing her cheek. “There are so many. I don’t know where to start.”

Booker hummed. “Do you want old or new?”

“New. I am scared if I touch those old books I’ll end up tearing them.”

“Good point.”

She ran her hand along the spines of the books in front of her before letting it drop. “You choose.”

Booker raised an eyebrow but nodded. He stepped closer to the shelves while Nile took a step back.

“Hmm.” He said as he pulled a thin book out. “Have you read this one?”

Nile took it. “Oedipus Rex?” She opened the book, and realized it wasn’t a story. “It’s a play.”

“Yes. By Sophocles himself. Are you familiar with Oedipus?”

“I’ve heard the name but don’t know the story.”

“It is a good start then.”

“What’s it about?”

At that, Booker paused in his browsing, making Nile look up. Softly, so softly she had to strain to hear he said “A story of a man who tried so hard to outrun destiny and ended up fulfilling it anyways.”

Nile stayed quiet, unsure what to reply to that.

Booker pulled out another book. “What about this one?”

“The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. I saw the movie. It was good.” Nile said.

Booker glared at her. Nile smiled cheekily back at him. “The movie was good.”

“Book is even better.”

Nile conceded. “Probably. Why this one?”

Booker’s smile dimmed. “It is a story of a boy who traded his family for something  he thought he wanted, and only ended up putting them all in danger because of his actions.”

Nile’s gaze softened as she laid a hand on Booker’s arm. “If I remember correctly, the boy realizes his mistake and returns to his family. And never strays from them again.”

Booker gave her an old and tired look for that. He turned back to the shelves, pulling out one more book.

And then Booker smirked. “And of course, you have to read this one.” he said as he placed a third paperback in her hand.

The title was enough to make her hit him with it, making his shake with amusement.

“Death on the Nile, hahahaha, world class comedian Booker.”

“It is a good story.” Booker said as he pulled the book away from her, grinning joyfully.

“Another time. I’ll read these first.”

Nile went and curled up on one end of the love seat Booker had at the end of the room, right below the windows. Booker moved around the room for a bit, making sure everything was in its place before coming to join her on the couch.

He pulled a book from the table beside him that Nile hadn’t noticed.

“What are you reading?”

He tilted the book so she could catch the title. “Far from the Madding Crowd?”

“I’m… fond of it.” Booker said.

“I’ll add it to my list then.” Nile said.

The pair of immortals shared another smile before settling in to read, a new found peace and understanding enveloping them.