#squarely onto the shoulders of women.. of course you’re gonna end up like that cause you’re looking for the pattern in today’s society so u

[stinkbeck]

just read that fitzgerald + his contemporaries thought that all women were blubbering sentimentalists. 👍 just because of u, i will no longer be listening to my men professors. fuck u if i’m too concise. fuck u if u don’t like difficult social metaphors. get out of my fucking sight.

[iwantutobehapppier]

Our Future

Pairing: Dark Steve Roger x reader

Summary: You left Steve after he did the unforgivable. But what lengths will he go to to make you forgive him? 

Warnings: +18 only, smut, dark themes, sex pollen, dubious consent cause ya know, implied cheating, dark Steve Rogers, dark avengers. Please if any of this bothers you read no further.

Word Count: 2.924

A/N: Happy 7th night of Chanukah! It’s almost to the end! Can you believe it?! Thank you everyone who has read, and reblogged. It means the world to me! Hope you enjoy this nice Dark Steve Rogers fic. Shout out to the ever talented @imanuglywombat​ for helping bounce some ideas off on this one I didn’t know totally where to go and she helped me find my way.

Trying best to hid your wince you hold your dislocated arm close to you to ease any jarring as you make your way up the ramp into the Quinjet. You’re fairly certain you’re bleeding somewhere if the wetness you feel in your suit is any indication. All you wanted to do was get back to the compound, see medical, then make your way to SHIELD Strike quarters with some good narcos.

“Let me see your arm,” you could break glass with the intensity your jaw clenches at the sound of his voice.

“I’d rather let it fall off,” Steve sighed at your clipped tone, he moves to reach to your arm to set it but you jerk away. Unable to hold in the grunt of pain. Steve frowns at your stubbornness

“I don’t want you touching me,” adamant to solidify your words you take a seat.

“Fine be in pain see if I care,” he stomps off not missing your muttering “You never did care.”

Steve could admit that gutted him. His steps faltered for a fraction. He cared for you more than his own life, more than stupid missions. Sometimes he was just a fucking idiot with women. He’d find a way to fix it though.

Squaring his shoulders he keeps walking to the pilot seat, sitting next to Bucky in the co-pilot seat who side-eyes him. “You gonna leave her like that?”

“She won’t let me touch her,” Buckling himself in he tries his best to keep the pain at bay. Was it really that bad that he couldn’t even set your shoulder back? You’d just sit there in pain than even have him touch you?

He knew you would be mad at him for a while but he figured after 3 months some of your ire would wane.

“Hm,” Bucky watches Steve start up the QuinJet controls, “well can you blame her?”

“Told you not to let her catch you,” he flicks Steve’s ear who tries to swat the hand away, “ever,” Bucky’s condescending tone the same he’d been hearing for months on end since the incident.

“Please don’t start too.” Bucky shrugs flipping switches in response to Steve’s prepping the Quinjet for take off.

Bucky turns his head back, catching your figure way in the back, head tilted down. Your slowed heart rate indicating you’d fallen asleep. He turns back to Steve.

“Now you’ve fucked it by letting her catch you with a side piece,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes, if Bucky went on about this one more time he was liable to punch his best friend unconscious.

“I wouldn’t start if you’d not fucked this up,” Steve grunts wishing for this conversation to not start-up once more, “how long did I have to hear you going on and on about wanting her?”

“I offered my help,” Bucky bobbed his head back and forth in mock “But no the Great Steve Rogers had to woo her.” He scoffs, resituating himself in his seat.

“My side piece? The girl was yours after all.” Steve recalls for Bucky.

“Yeah well let’s be thankful she didn’t know that when she caught you balls deep in her.” there’s a soft snort from you and they both look back catching their breath. They were fairly certain you hadn’t heard anything, but still...

“All I’m saying is fix it,” Bucky grumbles in a whisper looking directly at his pal, “Cause if I have to hear you whine about not being with her one more time-”

“Yeah I get it, Buck,” Steve sighed looking back at you once more.

Once you’re all back at the compound Steve is hot on your tail following you toward medical. You wanted to scream at him but with your loss of blood, still not sure where from, and the pain in your shoulder you didn’t have any fight left in you.

Steve should have headed his buddy’s words of giving you more space but he was unwilling to be apart any longer. You just had to forgive him and let it go. Simple as that. He’d make sure you saw it that way too. It’s not like you knew about all the other times.

A nurse sees you before you can say anything and you’re ushered into a room the door shutting in Steve’s face. Your snide smile makes his hands ball up.

Pushing his thumb to the entry bad you stick your tongue out when it blares at him denied entry. Of course, you would have made sure FRIDAY knew to keep him away from you. He’d get in. He could see through the partially closed vertical blinds making out your figure removing your gear and uniform. Licking his lips at the outline of your breasts.

It had been too long since he’d had sex. None of the other girls did it for him anymore, knowing you weren’t at home waiting for him to go another round with. He had to get in.

Looking at the pad he types in the override code and smiles in triumph with the door slides open for him to come in, shutting after his entry.

Turning around after finally getting the gown on provided for you, you hiss at the sight of him “Why don’t you bother whatever whore’s bed you crawled out of today?”

“I am not sleeping-”

“I don’t really care Steven.” the resignation in your voice when you interrupt him leaves him speechless. You had been mad at him, that’s all he had seen since that night. Just your fire.

“I’m not the one who stepped out of our relationship,” You squeezed your eyes tight trying to will the overbearing oaf out of your life.

“That’s not fair, as far I knew you-” Eyes snapping open at his pathetic excuses you whipped around, finger-pointing. Steve couldn’t help but inhale the smell of your shampoo at the quick turn. God, he missed you.

“I what? Slept with some dude?” Your fingernail presses into his chest, not caring that he couldn’t feel it through his suit, “Well, I didn’t but you couldn’t listen to me so you went,” you jab your finger into his chest feeling the anger flash through you as if it was that night all over again “and got your dick wet with one of those SHIELD trainees.”

Saving you from this hell the nurse comes in with supplies to tend to your wound and reset your shoulder. You step away from Steve to fall onto the bed, the nurse starting on the gash across your abdomen.

”Go” The soft defeat in your voice, turning your to the side catching his gaze from the corner of your eyes.

“I want to be here,” he makes a step towards you, ignoring the way you hiss at the antiseptic being applied makes his stomach turn. He never did enjoy seeing you uncomfortable, it reminded him of his younger years feeling helpless.

“Please,” You whimper, “If you love or ever loved me you’ll leave me alone.” looking at the nurse you try to convey your apologies for the awkward situation you put her in

“I’ve always loved you,” you can barely find it in you to scoff in disbelief at his words, just so tired of this back and forth.

“Sure have a fucked up way of showing it.”

He knew he had to leave, the finality in your tone let him know there was no moving you. Just yet.

Four weeks, he didn’t see you for four weeks. It was making him irritable, he doesn’t have to talk to you but to at least see your face even with the surly look you give him now would be enough. But nothing for four weeks.

“If you sigh one more time I’m gonna blast a hole through your chest,” Tony declared pointing the blaster cannon he’s tinkering with at Steve.

“I mean you can find another girl right?” Bruce offers before Bucky can stop him, scrambling in his chair. The four of them sitting in Tony’s lab relaxing, having guy time. Well, now it’s just friends’ time. It used to be guy time when he had you.

“No, don’t-” Bucky buries his face in his hands resting elbows on his knees after seeing Steve’s face scrunch up. 

“Find another girl?” Steve lamented. Oh if it was so simple.

“Well fuck now you started it.” Bucky groans into his hands. He had just gotten him to agree to getting out of the apartments and spending time with some people.

“What?” Bruce looks around confused at his suggestion. It seemed reasonable, there is plenty of fish in the sea as they say.

“I can’t just find another girl like her, she’s one of a kind. Full of fire and passion but nurturing. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. But she won’t talk to me,” Steve cards his fingers through his hair messing up the perfectly comb style. “I know if I could get her just have an honest conversation we could work past this.”

“Maybe if you had some HYDRA truths serum you could get her to talk,” Bucky sits up straight sure Steve is done for now.

“Why not give her the serum?” Bruce offers nonchalantly.

“The serum?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Dude!” Tony reprimands Bruce who has the audacity to look confused by Tony’s displeasure

“It’s just this thing we made,” Tony opens his mouth before Bruce can start. “Nothing just gets someone to express their thoughts as they come to them and cannot stop.”

“A truth serum.” Bucky offered.

“Nooo,” Tony rolls his eyes, “it’s just a serum that makes them… talk.” Bruce looks at Tony in confusion.

“That’s not the one I meant,” Bruce looks at Tony not picking up on his eyes shifting and grimace to get Bruce to stop talking.

“The one you call ‘Sex Pollen’,” Bucky tried to hide his chuckle with a cough, but Tony catches it glaring at him.

Steve stands up and marches to stand in front of Bruce who looks up at him. “UUh,”

“Show me.” Bruce can only nod at the authority in Steve’s voice.

“What a pushover,” Tony mutters going back to tinkering with his hand blaster. Bruce scampers away to return quickly with a vial.

“It lowers the progesterone and raises estrogen, but the only caveat is the hormones don’t level out until, well,” Bruce stutters trying to explain.

“Until you cum in her, mouth, pussy, ass anywhere,” Tony supplies, Steve’s brow raise, and Bucky stands up in curiosity. They all surround Bruce’s hand holding out the vial.

“Just a little bit,” Tony instructs, “And she’ll be crying for your cock.” All four men stare at the vial with varied interests. More so pride on Tony’s part. “It also makes them fertile as fuck so if you don’t want a baby don’t finish where you can have one.”

Tony chuckled to himself recalling a memory he fails to share. “That’s kind of how we got Morgan.”

“If you don’t give her what she needs, though, her body temperature will climb and well,” Bruce flusters himself trying to explain without being so technical.

“Boiled brain,” Tony finishes watching Steve grab the vial.

“Only about 3 drops bud,” Tony calls out to Steve’s retreating figure.

Steve heard him but his mind was focused on a plan to get you back. Using this he’d easily seduce you, show you why the two of you were so good together and leave a little present in your body tying him to you forever.

Yeah, this would work just fine.

Steve couldn’t believe his luck, you had left your quarters and he was able to slip in, put three drops in a water bottle on the kitchen he knew you’d finish soon.

Then he waited. It wasn’t 20 minutes later that he was knocking on your door upon your return. You were already flushed when you answered. He knew you had drunk the water, if not all of it.

“St-Steve?” You questioned, you had been doing so well not seeing him or knowing he even existed. It had helped so much in cooling your temper. However, it wasn’t to say you did miss him. You missed him something fierce when you were alone in bed using your toys. Toys that never compared to what Steve could do for you.

Eyeing his physique in front of you now was temping enough. The tight shirt showing his pecks and muscles hidden underneath, your eyes trailed down to the sweat pants sitting low on his hips. You had no shame licking your lips at the sight. Maybe you should have rubbed one out this morning?

Gripping the door frame tight you felt shivers run up and down your spine, centering in your underwear where you could feel growing dampness.

Steve,” you repeated, not failing to notice the way his eyes trail up and down your body. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, pushing his way in, you stumble back giving him full entry into your living space. One part of you says to push him out but the other says to feel his pecs. Shaking your head you repeat yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Steve says your name, it’s deep, masculine, and soaking in desire. You teetered on your feet.

“You feeling okay baby girl?” he catches you in his grasp, though you weren’t really running. His arm around your back, the other holding your hip.

You try to speak but your throat feels suddenly too dry. Eyeing the water bottle on the counter Steve grabs it, keeping one arm behind your back, and hands it to you.

“Go on,” His eyes trained on your lips as you take the bottle to your mouth. You drink and Steve watches the way your throat moves with each swallow. Just as you’re about to take the bottle from your lips Steve tips the bottom of the bottle up making you swallow the remaining contents.

You keep eye contact even as he sets the bottle back down, his thumb running over your bottom lip collecting missed water. Without thinking your mouth opens and you twirl your tongue around his thumb. Collecting the remains.

“Such a good baby girl,” He purrs, your hands on their own accord trail up his shirt, nails dragging along the defined muscles.

“Yeah, you missed me huh?” You begin to nod your head but something shakes you from your stupor. Your eyes widen, hands on his chest begin to push trying to get him away but that only makes him pull you in against his chest.

Your head tilted up, looking at him with growing fear. “What-” you try to think clearly. “What did you do?”

“I only did what I had to,” His eyes shift to the side for a brief moment and when you look over you see the water bottle.

“Did you drug me?” Your words slur, and your hands that were once pushing him away began kneading his muscles under them.

Steve slides his hand down your back to cup your ass. Two fingers dipping between your butt cheeks and pushing you to your toes. When your body rocks against him you can feel his erection pressing into you.

“Its gonna be okay,” He coos, you fight the sensations pushing through, Your desire to rub up against him, the way his fingers feel so good pushing against your ass. A soft mewl pulls at your lips, feeling his chest rub against yours, nipples pebbling with arousal.

He flips you around holding your back to his chest, hands sliding down your sides to pull your shorts and underwear down. One hand cupping your mound, he groans at the dampness against your mound, You certainly had made a mess.

Tony wasn’t lying about this ‘sex pollen’.

“What did you do?” your voice softer than you want it to be. You should be screaming but your body is responding completely contradictory to how you want it to. When he pushes on your back sending your chest forward he doesn’t relieve the pressure until you’re bending in half.

“I’m reminding you how much you need me,” He pushes his sweats down to under his balls. He didn’t wear any boxers for this, no he wanted to be ready to enter you as soon as he could.

He leans back to groan at the sight of your pussy dripping with arousal. Oh, he may have to start giving you a drop of this every day if you were ready so quickly every time.

You moan when he drags his knuckles up and down your slit, admiring the way you rock on your tiptoes and back down pushing his cock against your ass. You knew you were asking him something but for the life of you, you couldn’t recall. All on your mind is how you can feel the heat of his fat cock behind you, the tip rubbing against your ass cheeks.

“What..?” You speak out, your subconscious trying to push through.

“I’m making sure you won’t leave me again baby,”

“No,” you mewl, upset at the thought of leaving him. Not when he makes you feel so good.

“It’s okay though,” he comforts you, gently caresses your sides before lining his cock to your entrance.

He pushes in grunting at the way you grip him, it had been so long since he’d be in you, and from the feel of your tightness it had been just as long for you to take anything inside.

“I’m securing our future.”

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XX)

Chapter 20: Fear Of Petunias

 Here we go for a new chapter!! I'm a bit late for this one, sorry, I was very busy these past few days.

I hope you like this new chapter! No warnings, it’s not angsty or anything.

Word Count: 3015

Harry couldn't wait. As he stood in the middle of the hall in the Boston Logan airport, he reckoned that he was more excited than he had ever been.

He had a good reason for it though. You were about to enter the hall.

Your plane from L.A had safely landed a few minutes ago, and he was just waiting for you to come out now. He hadn't seen you in the flesh for 4 months. And God, did he miss you…

He kept looking everywhere around him, unable to settle his gaze on just one spot. He was surrounded by families and friends of others who were on this plane with you, but he didn't pay any attention to anyone around.

He didn't notice the three young women approaching him with their phones in their hands. He was too busy leaning on his right to look over a couple that had decided to simply stay right in front of him, blocking the view of your terminal. He annoyingly tittered, trying to move to the side.

But then there was someone tugging at his sleeve, and when he turned, he knew exactly what was going on before the stranger opened her mouth to make her request.

"Sorry… could we get a picture with you?"

His heart sank in his chest. Not because he had been recognized in itself, but because it meant that he needed to be careful now. He thought he was in the clear, but perhaps someone else had recognized him. And perhaps their intentions weren't all about getting a selfie with him. It meant he couldn't give you the hug he had been dreaming about, couldn't hold you close after so many weeks spent missing you. It would have to wait.

But he didn't let any of this show, and instead, offered a kind smile to his fan.

"Of course, you can."

He chatted with the three fans for a few minutes, all grins and charm despite the many glances he stole towards the terminal. How long before you came out now?

A few travellers were already walking out of the hall, greeted by their friends and families, or sometimes walking fast towards the exit on their own. But you were nowhere to be seen still.

But then he caught a glimpse of your hair and…

His lips curled into a bright grin that he couldn't have stopped if he had tried. He didn't even attempt to refrain the gesture though, his heart was beating too fast for that, and through his clouded mind it seemed that he couldn't form a single thought.

Your grin matched his as you spotted him in the expecting crowd as well, but you also noticed the three women turned towards him, and you knew exactly what was going on. Your smile faltered, and you looked down at your feet, your steps slowing down.

You heaved a sigh, aiming your footsteps for the exit instead of Harry.

"It's not nice to ignore your best friend, especially when he's come all the way to the airport to pick you up."

Harry was beside you, and you looked up at him with surprise. You would have thought that he would have avoided you until you were both out of the airport because he was clearly being watched now. You could feel the three women's eyes fixed on you. But instead, he had hurried to join you, and was now offering you a bright smile while taking your luggage from your hand.

"You seemed busy over there," you replied, a little out of breath as you stared into his green eyes.

Four months, that was way too long a time to not see these eyes...

"Yeah… better keep the hug for later, or we might start crazy rumours. Still, I'm so happy to see you."

"Me too, Harry. I've missed you."

He heaved a sigh, looking over his shoulder to check if people were staring at him still.

"I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry I can't greet you properly."

"You're here, that's a proper welcome to me."

You exchanged a pair of stupid smiles as you walked to his car. But he had barely driven out of the airport that he was pulling over, checking that the little road he had taken was empty.

"Get out," he ordered, making you frown.

"What?"

"Just… humour me."

You rolled your eyes, wondering what the hell could be happening now. With Harry, you had to be prepared for anything.

As soon as you were both out of the car, he gestured to you to come closer, and with one last quick glance around, he wrapped his arms around you in the tightest hug you had ever received.

It took you less than a second to reciprocate the gesture, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

"Now…. Much better," he smiled. "God… I've missed you so much, Y/N."

Your hold on his white T-shirt tightened as your emotions became overwhelming. Everything was too intense after months spent missing every of these details. His scent, his low voice, his warmth against you, his strong arms around you, the gentle hold of his hands on the back of your head and your back, the feeling of his chest expanding and collapsing with every breath he took and exhaled…

You didn't even notice as tears formed in your eyes until it was too late to stop them.

"I've missed you too, Harry. It's crazy how I've missed you."

You remained standing there, by the side of the road, holding on each other tightly for a while, none of you willing to break your embrace. And at first, it was simply because you didn't want to show the other that you were both on the verge of tears. But after a while, it was simply because, after all this time, you simply didn't want to let go.

It felt… unreal.

Travelling with Harry felt surreal. Like you were living through something so different to anything you had ever experienced.

It was an everlasting rush that never seemed to slow down. It felt like you were hurrying from a point to the other all day long, and you wondered how the band could handle such haste for so long, but then you reckoned that they had become used to the craziness of it all.

The shows you went to on the eastern coast of the US were amazing. The responsive crowd, and the lights, and the talented musicians, and Harry radiating energy and light from the stage... You had the same thought every single time you saw him perform: he truly was ment to perform. He owned the stage. And every show was amazing and made your chest almost burst with how proud you were of him and his band.

After the last show at Madison Square Garden, you went out for a drink with the whole crew. A little celebration after Harry's performances on the legendary stage. And you might have been drinking just a tiny bit too much, which Harry and his friends found hilarious.

You were busy discussing bra sizes and whining about how uncomfortable pieces of clothing they were with Sarah. Mitch was pretty drunk as well, his head resting on the table as he looked at the two of you, while Harry chatted with Adam and Clare.

"And I bought one with lace the other day and it ended up being so scratchy!" you complained. "It's underwear! Why is it scratchy!"

"It can be," Sarah sternly nodded, before taking a sip of her cocktail, her eyes a little glassy by now.

"We should free our boobs," you declared, putting down your drink with too much strength, causing Harry to turn to you with a startled glance.

"Open a petition!" Sarah agreed, her words slurred with alcohol.

"I'm gonna!" you swore. "I'll open a pet... petitious... petition... Free tits for all!"

Harry burst into laughter by your side, while Mitch turned into a giggling ball on his seat.

It was a merry and silly evening spent with your friends you had missed while they travelled across the world, and felt happier and freer than you had in a long time.

You were interrupted though when your phone rang. You brought the screen too close to read the name of the person calling you, and you sighed when you read Gareth's name.

"It's my boyyyyyyfriend!" you mumbled in a high-pitched voice. "He must be worried. He's always worried about everything. It's tiring."

You answered anyway, and Harry hated himself for the way he listened closely to your conversation. But you were drunk, and seemed to want to ramble about how great Sarah was rather than answer your boyfriend's questions. And after a couple of minutes, you handed your phone to Harry.

"He wants to talk to you. Should I get jealous?" you asked with narrowed eyes.

"Absolutely. I secretly want to seduce your boyfriend, I'm surprised you haven't noticed yet," he joked, unable to refrain the smile that formed on his lips while he took your phone from you.

"Hello, Gareth, darling," Harry went on, making you pinch his arm. "What can I do for you tonight?"

"Hi, Harry. Is Y/N okay over there?"

"Yeah, she's just a bit drunk. We all went out for a drink together. Don't worry, we'll call a cab to go back to the hotel together. I'll make sure she gets home safely."

"Are you drunk too?"

"I'm not as far gone as she is. I'll take care of her, don't worry."

"Alright, thanks," Gareth mumbled although he didn't sound very grateful, more like irritated.

"So... good night..."

"Actually, Harry, I wasn't calling just to check on her. Have you taken a look at any social media today?"

"Huh? Not really, was pretty busy. Why?"

"Check. Now."

Harry heaved an annoyed sigh, wondering what on Earth had gotten into your boyfriend, so he reached for his phone.

He only then noticed the eight calls from Jeffrey. With a frown, he opened one of the links in his manager's text, not bothering reading the actual messages.

His hold on both phones tightened the second the picture appeared on screen.

It was you and Harry hugging. He recognized the moment in the blink of an eye. It was simply the hug from the airport. You were standing by the car, holding onto each other. The headline was obviously a variant of 'Harry Styles and his new girlfriend'.

"Have you seen the picture now," Gareth asked in the phone.

"Yeah..."

"Should I get in the next plane and break your fucking jaw?"

Harry raised a surprised eyebrow, but chose to ignore the remark.

"We were just hugging after I picked her up from the airport. Nothing more."

"Really?"

Harry checked if you were listening to his conversation, but you were back to talking to Sarah and Mitch and weren't paying any attention to your phone anymore. So Harry felt like he was free to speak his mind and take care of the situation on his own.

"Of course. Don't you trust her?" he asked your boyfriend in a low tone.

"I do..."

"Then you should know that nothing else happened. We were happy to see each other, but I got recognized in the airport, so we drove for a few minutes to find a quiet place to properly great each other. We just hugged, man. Nothing wrong with that."

"It doesn't look so innocent..."

"It's a paparazzi peak published on the internet. The point is to create rumours. Nothing happened, and nothing will happen. We're just friends. And if you really knew Y/N as well as you claim to, you wouldn't worry the way you do now. I get that it's annoying, and upsetting even, but don't put the blame on her when all Y/N did was giving me a hug."

"Look, to be honest, it's not just this incident. I don't like how close the two of you are sometimes..."

"Please, tell her that. Tell her these exact words, just so you can get dumped," Harry replied in an acidic tone.

Gareth heaved a sigh.

"All I'm saying is that I want it to be clear in your head that she is my girlfriend. And she won't be anything but a friend to you. Are we clear on that point?"

Harry clenched his jaw, his hold on your phone tightening even more until he wondered if he could actually break the device.

As if he needed a reminder of that...

"We're clear."

"Good. Get her home now. I'll call her tomorrow morning."

Before Harry could reply, Gareth had hung up.

He handed you your phone back without a word. You were drunk, there was no need to bother you with these paparazzi pictures now. You were laughing with Sarah and Mitch, and his anger was soothed the second he looked at your smile.

It could wait till morning.

"Ouch... my head..."

You whined, letting yourself drop onto the chair by Harry's side in his large hotel room. The smell of food was making you nauseous, but you were hungry nonetheless.

Your friend silently handed you a glass of water and some painkillers, for which you thanked him before drinking the whole glass in one go.

"Why did you let me drink so much last night?" you asked him with a pout.

"I did try to stop you, but you can be awfully stubborn when you truly want to, you know?"

"How are the others? How are you?"

"I didn't drink as much as you lot!" Harry laughed. "Someone had to be the responsible one of the group. But everybody's alright. Mitch and Sarah are still asleep, I'll wake them up in a bit. We can have breakfast first."

When he ordered breakfast that morning, Harry didn't even think when he asked the portions to be made for two. He knew you would walk into his room as soon as you were awake, even if you were still in your blue pyjamas. Yawning and tired and rubbing your eyes in a lazy attempt to chase sleep away, your hair a mess and your voice hoarse and a little weak. He knew exactly what this morning would be like, and he was absolutely right. You always did that whenever the two of you went somewhere together. And he loved it, now more than ever. It gave him the illusion, for a moment, that you had woken up in his room too.

But that morning, he had another worry in his mind that eclipsed the domestic moment he longed to steal.

He had spent the last thirty minutes checking these pictures of you and him. It was just a hug, but even he had to admit that depending on the angle of the camera, someone might believe that you had been kissing. There was no way you would avoid the pictures forever, and he reckoned that it was best if he was the one bringing you the news. And the more he let time fly by, the higher the risk of you finding about it on your own. He reckoned that was worse.

So he took a deep breath, and leaned against the table towards you while you poured himself some coffee.

"Y/N... We need to talk about something."

"What's wrong?" you asked, blowing on the hot beverage.

"I... first, I'm... I want to apologize. I'm so sorry about what happened, and I... I completely understand if you get mad because of it."

Your expression turned into a concerned frown.

"What's going on?" you asked again, your tone more urgent this time.

Harry heaved a sigh, took a deep breath before diving.

"I... A few pictures have leaked on the internet of... us. Like... When we were hugging the other day, after I picked you up at the airport."

Your eyes fell to your knees.

"Oh," was the only sound you let out.

"I'm sorry. It's all over the place already. And... I'm sure you can guess the headlines that go with them, even if it was just a hug."

You nodded, but remained silent.

"I... I'm sorry. That's why Gareth called last night and asked to talk to me, you remember? I... I hope you won't get in trouble..."

"It was just a hug, Harry, we did nothing wrong."

"I know. But I've seen the pics, and... I'll admit that the angles have been perfectly chosen to question if we were hugging or kissing."

You heaved a tired sigh.

"I'm not surprised."

"I'm sorry."

But you shook your head, placing your cup back onto the table, and for a moment, Harry expected you to get angry. He looked down at his hands in a sheepish manner, but the scolding he was ready for never came.

"It's not your fault, Harry. We were careful, and those assholes... it's their fault, not yours."

"I should have waited for us to really be alone."

"It's not your fault. Stop apologizing."

"You're not mad?" he asked in a hopeful voice, looking up at you again.

"At you? Of course not. I would very much like to shout at whoever took these pics, but... it's not your fault. Don't worry about it. It'll be forgotten soon enough anyway, right?"

"I... I'm not so sure about that..."

"Anyway... it's not your fault. Don't feel guilty about it, okay?"

He heaved a sigh.

"I think Gareth is pretty mad."

"Let me take care of my boyfriend. We'll be alright, don't worry about that."

You could read Harry's worry written all over his face, so you reached for his hand, a reassuring smile on your lips.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'm not angry at you. It's not your fault. I'll talk with Gareth, and we'll all be just fine."

"You shouldn't have to go through this because of me," he stated, his voice deeper than usual.

"I signed up for this when I became your best friend. It's alright."

"So... we're good, right?"

You gave him yet another smile.

"Yeah, Harry. We're good."

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

Tag list :   @ponycake27​ @horsesreign​ @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet​@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​ @stuckupstucky​@snek-shit​ @suchatinyinfinity​@i-padfootblack-things​  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10​ @emyyjemyy​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony​@madamrogers @cronias13 @stylesfics-xx @mellamolayla @mariaenchanted

[harryandmolly]

tequila sunrise

A/N: part 3/3! clearly the Senorita video fucked me right up

summary: Shawn and Catalina deal with the aftermath of their night together

warnings: Language, NSFW in a big way holy cow (unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it), my perfect dream switch!Shawn

WC: 6k, truly what on earth

----------

Catalina’s favorite nights at Plucky’s are the quiet ones. They don’t come around often, but when they do, they’re something special.

Quiet is relative, of course. Plucky’s is usually a madhouse, so when there isn’t a constant line at the bar, and when you can sort of tell the music they’re playing over the din, that’s quiet enough to count in Catalina’s book.

Tonight, though, it’s really, really quiet. They don’t even have the speakers on full blast -- they don’t need to. The thunderstorm has kept most of the newcomers away, and some of the regulars.

Not all of them.

Shawn and company sit sentry at the tables by the door, as always. They’re the first to know if trouble’s on its way in or out. That’s the way Bonnie likes it. Catalina knows she can’t complain, even if she’d rather not see his stupid pretty face again.

He’s stopped staring at her. It took him a lot of effort and another few weeks of recovery time after their last romp, but he’s managing it. It’s not easy, especially on such a quiet night. He can hear her laughing with the girls at the bar, chanting “chug! Chug!” and pouring shots into their mouths.

She doesn’t look like she’s missed him one bit. All he’s done for 26 days is miss her. Yes, he misses her so much he’s counting the days.

He’s hunched over a beer, nursing it slowly. He’ll switch to bourbon soon if he can wrangle one of his buddies into going to grab it for him. He’s too chicken shit to see what she’d do if he walked anywhere near her bar.

He’d rather sit in the corner and imagine it -- he pictures her launching a shot glass at his head or shooting him with the fountain sprayer. Sometimes, when he’s really, truly fucked, he imagines that she’d drag him into a stellar kiss again. He misses kissing her most of all.

A chorus of raucous laughter from the table behind them knocks him from his self-pitying reverie. Connor next to him rolls his eyes. The jokers at the next table arrived about half an hour after they did and they’ve been hitting the drinks hard ever since. It’s not a cardinal offense at Plucky’s, of all places, but it’s a quiet night and these douchelords are being obnoxious.

“... no, not the redhead. Idiot. The dark-haired one with the rack.”

Shawn perks up again and frowns, listening. Connor and the rest of his guys heard it, too. They’ve fallen quiet, listening in.

“... Couple weeks ago. Tightest cunt I’ve ever had. Was fucking begging for me.”

Shawn tenses. He glances over at the man speaking and catches the eye of the moron that grabbed at Catalina’s dress that night. Shawn gives him a withering glance, one that clearly reads ‘knock it off.’ But the problem is, the loser has an audience. He brought his buddies along and they all want to hear about his (totally fictional) conquest of Catalina.

Shawn looks around. His friends are already looking poised to square up. Shawn backs them off, quietly insisting they ignore it. Bonnie begs them to ignore rowdy assholes unless they’re being violent or especially disruptive. These guys may be gross, but they’re not causing problems yet.

But he can’t just turn his ears off. In fact, they grow pinker and pinker as the guy rambles on, getting into details so dirty and vivid Shawn half believes it was real. He chances a glance up at Catalina, watches her flash a proud grin at a girl in a 21st birthday crown as she squeals through a shot of Fireball.

How can he even think to talk about her like that? It’s unfathomable. Talking about anyone in the manner this guy is going on in is disgusting. Shawn shifts uncomfortably, shaking his head.

“And then I threw her up against the bar and--”

“Can you shut the fuck up?” Shawn barks, springing out of his seat. His nostrils flare. His jaw closes in a tight line. His friends look him over, assessing his mood, and stand. This isn’t going to just end quietly.

The loser stands too, followed by his other loser friends. He’s smirking like a jerk. Shawn wants to wipe his face across Catalina’s bar.

“Look, it’s pretty boy,” the idiot mocks, making his buddies laugh, “Are you her little bitch boy? She got you on a leash?”

Shawn rolls his eyes. “I’m doing you a favor, asshole. If she hears you talking about her like that, she’s gonna have you on a fucking leash.”

Shawn’s friends chuckle in agreement and look over at Catalina, who has taken note of the confrontation, keeping an eye on them as she continues pouring drinks to distract her customers. She knows very well if the morons think they have more of an audience, they’ll be harder to shut up.

Shawn turns, ready to sit back down. His shoulders are tense. They have been for weeks, yet again. His body is like a coil, scrunched tighter every day.

It was only a matter of time before the snap.

“Anyway, it was good pussy. For a nasty fuckin’ bartender.”

Snap.

Shawn’s chair clatters when he stands so fast he knocks it over. Before his friends can temper him, he launches himself at the mouthy guy, decking him hard across the jaw. The only reason it didn’t knock him out clean was because one of his friends got an arm around Shawn’s to slow his swing. The damage is done, though -- blood pours from the guy’s mouth. His friends descend, several of them locking themselves around Shawn’s arms so the mouthy guy can get some hits in before Shawn’s friends can drag him off. He gets in a couple good punches, one that splits Shawn’s eyebrow, the rest investing in damage that will result in another black eye to match the one that finally fully faded a week ago.

Connor and Geoff wrestle the guy out the door while a couple other regulars come to aid the cause of kicking out the rest of the drunk losers.

“Fuckin’ idiot couldn’t even hit me unless his friends held my arms down!” Shawn growls after them as they skulk off.

He slumps into a chair, wincing as blood starts trickling into his eye from the slice in his brow. He reaches up to poke at it, but a set of soft fingers wrap around his, pushing them away.

“Don’t touch it,” Catalina murmurs from above him, her voice chilly, her eyes on the first aid bag she’s swinging onto the table. She nods at Brian to move out of her way.

She perches on the seat gingerly, holding some clean napkins up to the wound, dabbing carefully. He hisses, cringing away. She cups his other cheek to hold him steady. His protest stops immediately. The corner of her mouth lifts.

“The fuck is wrong with you? I never see you swing first.”

Shawn swallows and keeps his eyes down as she continues dabbing, swapping out the napkins for gauze with alcohol. Shawn winces again.

“Fuckin’ gross idiots, that’s all,” Shawn mutters.

Catalina nods thoughtfully. “Think one of them was the guy that grabbed at me a few weeks ago, yeah?”

He lifts his eyes to meet hers briefly. “Yeah.”

She smiles a little wider, patting antibiotic cream into the clean wound that she’s decided doesn’t need stitches.

“Don’t have to defend my honor, you know. It’s long gone.”

“Oh, I know,” Shawn murmurs, a chuckle in his voice, “Just doing my feminist duty to not let guys say shit like that about women.”

He looks up at her again. She forgot how big and brown and sweet his eyes can be. This time he keeps his eyes on her as she carefully applies the butterfly bandage, pressing as gently as she can with her fingers.

“Well, aren’t you just Prince Charming,” she murmurs, looking from his lips back up to those puppy brown eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His eyes fall to his lap.

Catalina takes a deep breath and nods at Brian, who nudges their other friends into making themselves scarce. Shawn and Catalina are alone at the table with the first aid kit.

“For what?” she asks, keeping her voice steady.

“For… making you cry last time.”

Not the answer she was expecting.

She squints at him. “You’re not sorry for leaving before I woke up the first night?”

Shawn looks startled. “I… thought you’d want me to.”

“Why?”

“Because… it was a one night thing,” he stammers, starting to get flustered. His chest heaves under his white tank and patterned suspenders.

She lifts an eyebrow. “Clearly it wasn’t or it wouldn’t have happened again.”

“Yeah… but… I--I mean…”

Catalina looks unimpressed. She stands and turns to walk back to the bar. Words bubble up in Shawn’s throat against his will.

“I didn’t want to stick around long enough for you to kick me out when we woke up,” he blurts, immediately looking mortified.

Catalina turns back. Her disinterest has shifted to concerned confusion.

“Why would I do that?”

Shawn closes his eyes, feeling his ruddy cheeks go pinker. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to give you the chance. I’ve been kicked out before. It’s not fucking fun.”

Catalina’s lips part. Her eyes unfocus. She’s having a mini epiphany.

From the beginning, she used Shawn like a toy. Their cat and mouse game was only supposed to be fun. She just didn’t want to make it easy for him. The excitement was in the challenge for them both, or so she thought. While she was quietly wondering if his interest would fade after they fucked the first time, he was worrying about the same thing.

He left first to save himself. He left first to see if she’d chase him.

“You wanted me to make the move,” she breathes, sinking back into the seat beside him.

Shawn doesn’t look up. The bar is closing, the last patrons have shuffled out. Bonnie is wiping down counters. Shawn’s friends give him a wave and watch curiously from outside as they climb onto their bikes and drive away.

Shawn lifts his eyes experimentally. She’s still looking off into the distance, putting pieces together in her pretty head. Finally, she looks back at him.

“When was the last time you felt really wanted?”

Shawn goes cold to his bones. He feels translucent -- he swears she can see every scrambled thought in his harried brain, can see the blood pumping double time in his veins. No hiding from her now.

“Uhm… I....” He trails off. He’s not sure that question needed a real answer, anyway.

Her fingers pluck some curls off his forehead, away from his cut. He looks up at her, into warmth and tenderness he’s seen snippets of in the months they’ve known each other. He’s never seen her look like this. She’s never looked so beautiful.

“Lina, I--”

She leans in and kisses him softly. It feels like a kiss from their first night together, like when she sat in his lap and rocked their hips and came, holding his arm around her stomach. He kisses back, tilting his head as she guides him, resting a hand on the outside of her thigh on her leather pants. She murmurs softly into his mouth. The vibration has him squeezing her leg and nibbling sweetly at her lower lip.

Catalina purrs, lifting herself into his lap without disconnecting their needy mouths. As Bonnie keeps her eyes mostly down, mopping up behind the counter, Shawn and Catalina explore in a way they haven’t yet. When Shawn releases a particularly sweet and overwhelmed groan at Catalina’s gentle hair tugging, Bonnie stifles a chuckle and decides the rest of the job can be done before opening tomorrow. She opts to leave out the back, locking up behind her.

Shawn sucks at Catalina’s tongue, sneaking his fingers up under her tank top like he’s never touched her before. It feels naughty. It feels good. It feels even better than before because he knows she wants him.

She wants him.

It feels real, like it’s not just for tonight, or not even just for sex. She might actually want--

“Shawn,” she coos, pulling apart enough from his lips to speak, “Want you to take me back to your place.”

Her fingers slip beneath his suspenders, teasing the skin under the thin shirt beneath. She plucks, letting the elastic snap back. His breathing comes up short.

“Want to show you just how much I want you, baby.”

Shawn huffs a soft breath, nodding eagerly. She plants another kiss on him and stands, tangling their fingers. They stay tangled while Catalina pushes in chairs, turns off lights and fishes her keys from her bag, laughing as Shawn holds his phone flashlight out for her. They lock up.

His bike is waiting for them. He climbs on first, handing her a helmet with a wink. She settles in behind him, this time much more comfortable snuggling up to his broad back in his soft leather jacket. The bike growls to life, stoking the fire in her lower abdomen. Her thighs clench around the machine as Shawn takes off down the street.

She knows why he ended up here all the time with his friends. He lives five minutes away. She raises her eyebrows at the quaint townhouse, not expecting his home to look quite so… domestic. He parks the bike right outside between a Honda and a Volvo and holds his hand out to her to help her off, sliding off his own helmet.

When she’s on her feet, she steps into his body that’s bleeding heat. She cups his cheek and runs her thumb gently along his bruising skin.

“We should get ice on this,” she murmurs. He turns his face, eyes fluttering as he plants a kiss on the inside of her palm.

“Later. Please, baby. It’s been so long. Need you.”

His thoughts are short and simple. She draws both hands up to secure around his neck, easing him down for another head swimmingly full, tender kiss. While her tongue swipes along his lower lip, she slides her hands down, taking hold of the suspenders in both hands, dragging him toward the door.

He stumbles along with her, sifting through his keys, grunting into her mouth as he struggles to find the one for his front door. She peels away from him with a giggle, allowing him to focus. He seizes the right key and thrusts the door open, letting her in first. He trails behind, turning on lights.

The house is small and simple, masculine and a little cold. She sets her purse and jacket down on the counter of his very clean kitchen. She plants her hands on the cool marble countertop and closes her eyes, feeling him edge up behind her with his hands on her hips.

Shawn goes silent. Every thought in his brain is muted, replaced with feeling her. He noses at her hair and slips his fingers up her sides curiously, allowing himself little tastes of her, though he craves more.

“Baby,” Catalina murmurs, her voice warm and steady and feeling like a shot of adrenaline through his body, “Need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” he pants immediately, almost before she finishes speaking. She smiles, chewing on her lower lip.

She turns in his arms, held between him and the counter. She takes hold of his suspenders again, watching the flush creep up his pretty neck.

“Need you to be good for me tonight. Let me take care of you.”

Shawn’s knees tremble. He leans harder into the counter and releases a choked breath. He nods, keeps nodding until she takes his head in her hands and gives him another perfect kiss.

Her hungry hands glide over her own body, pulling her tank up her pale stomach, separating their mouths only long enough to shed it behind her. Shawn starts to try to help with the buttons on her leather trousers but she plucks his fingers off with a smile against his mouth.

“Not gonna let me touch you, baby?” he whispers, his voice a little closer to a whine than he’d like. She hears it, reveling in it while she wriggles out of her pants herself, kicking them off after her boots and socks.

She replaces Shawn’s hands on her hips, wrapping her arms around him as she leads him toward the stairs.

“Haven’t touched me in weeks,” she points out between kisses, “And you seemed to be doing just fine.”

He groans into her mouth at her teasing. He knows what she wants. He’s not used to having to give it, but he’ll do it. He’ll give it for her.

“I wasn’t,” he pants, leaning into the vulnerability. 

His lips trail off down her jaw, letting her tug him upstairs to his bedroom, “I was fucking-- god, Lina, I’m miserable without you. I need you.”

Catalina wants to bathe in this feeling. She knows how good their first two times were. She relives them more often than she probably should. But this is honest and open and she can feel the way he means his words by the way his heart sprints in his firm chest. This time is going to be even better.

“You know you’re the only one that calls me that?” she whispers when they reach his spartan bedroom. She pushes the suspenders off his shoulders until they fall limp at his sides. She guides him to sit at the end of the bed, standing between his spread knees. His fingers twitch at his sides, wanting to touch.

“What, Lina?” he pants.

“Yeah. Everyone else calls me Cat.”

Shawn looks bewildered, like maybe he never noticed. “I can call you Cat if you want.”

“No,” she says, tilting his head back to rest in her hands, watching his eyes flutter, “I like that it’s just for us.”

Shawn squirms, his wet pink lips parting with the effort of his breath. He wants to touch her. He wants it so bad. The only thing he wants more is for her to give him whatever she wants. He fists his hands into the duvet on either side of him as she lowers herself into his lap.

“Did you think about me the last few weeks?” she hisses, rocking herself into place so she grinds against his hardening cock in his black jeans. He gives it back, using his hands against the mattress to match the rhythm of her perfect hips.

“Of course I did,” he chokes, “Always think about you, Leens.”

“When you’re touching yourself? When you’re alone and it’s dark and quiet and you need a release?”

Shawn’s eyes shut. “Baby, it was always you. Always.”

Catalina is flooded with it. She should get that word tattooed on her somewhere. Maybe somewhere sexy so only he knows it’s there. She gently eases him onto his back, lifting off his hips to pluck at the button of his pants. She notices the suspenders still lying around his hips. Her eyes flash.

“Shawn,” she coos, sliding up his body so their faces are level, “Baby, have you ever been tied up before?”

His glassy eyes clear up in an instant. He squirms again, swallowing hard.

“Fuck, not in… a long time.”

Catalina smirks. “Bet you’re usually the one doing the tying up.”

Shawn chuckles. It’s cocky and sexy and it makes Catalina wetter in her panties.

“Usually,” he replies.

Catalina ducks her head to whisper in his ear, “If you’re really good for me this time, we can try that next time.”

Shawn groans again, but it cuts into a squeak when Catalina drags at his earlobe with her sharp teeth.

She sits back and eyes him, her gaze raking over his long, lean body, still fully clothed, his dick straining beautifully in his jeans. She cups him, giving him a teasing squeeze that makes him flinch and huff a breath.

“Take your clothes off for me,” she commands, firm but affectionate, “Nice and slow.”

Shawn presses himself up on his hands and stands in front of her, reaching for the collar of his tank at the back of his neck. He lifts it slowly, revealing inch after inch of perfect, soft skin, warm brown chest hair and a trail leading into his pants. He tosses the shirt away, licking his lips.

“Mmm, you know exactly how hot you are, don’t you?” Catalina sighs. Shawn lifts an eyebrow.

“I don’t know about that,” he begins, tugging at the button of his jeans, dropping his zipper, “But I know exactly how hot you are for me.”

Catalina laughs, delighted. She leans back on her forearms, propping her feet up on the bed. She spreads her thighs just enough for him to notice she’s doing it, and it’s not just to get more comfortable as she watches him.

Shawn’s eyes fix on the wet spot on her panties. His exhale whistles through his nose. He tucks his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and pushes, slowly again per her request, watching her eyes get heavy lidded and her fingers grip the sheets like his were only moments before.

He drops his jeans around his ankles, kicking them off.

“These too?” he pants, pointing at his navy Calvins. She nods, breathing hard, which makes his dick twitch.

“Those too.”

Again, Shawn pulls at them slowly, his eyes locked on her when his leaking cock springs free to slap up against his lower abdomen. She licks her lips obscenely. A moan gets throttled in his tight throat.

Catalina sits up and beckons to him, spreading her legs so he can stand between her knees. She gathers him in by his hips, eyes roaming his body like she’s never seen it before. She likes what she sees. He can tell by the way she’s going pink all over. It makes him preen, flexing just a little under her touch.

“You’re perfect, every inch of you,” she whispers, her voice muffled against his skin as her lips brush his chest. Her sneaky fingers curve around his hips and sink into the cheeks of his ass, urging him even closer.

Shawn gasps, pushing his hands into his hair, “God, fuck, Lina. Fuck.”

She’s not shy about leaving marks. She bites and licks and sucks like he’s hers to do with what she wants. And, goddamnit, he is. He so is. It’s all he can do to keep his hands to himself. Pulling at his curls helps a little. But when he watches her perfect little tongue swirl around his nipple and suck it between her lips, his hands drop to her hair, hugging her close as he whines.

She releases his reddening, swollen skin from her rosy lips and smirks up at him, squeezing the palms still planted on his ass.

“Ok, baby, time for me to play.”

She slaps her flat palm against his ass lightly to watch his stomach tighten. He grunts, but the corner of his mouth lifts. “Where do you want me?”

“Everywhere,” she purrs dangerously, “But let’s start with right here.”

She enjoys watching the shiver roll down his spine as she pats the bed. He gracefully lowers himself, head on the pillows, blinking down at her. Catalina frees the suspenders from his jeans and crawls up the bed, sitting over his chest as she lifts his willing arms over his head and binds them together, then to the headboard.

She sits back, looking over her work. His bulky arms are pinned up around his ears. His chest is heaving more quickly now as the reality of it hits him. His eyes are glazed. His cheeks are pink and patchy. He looks fucking delicious.

“Gonna sit on my face, honey? Let me taste that perfect pussy again?” he pants.

She hums. “Maybe if you’re lucky.”

“You mean maybe if you’re lucky.”

Her eyes skip from his hard nipples to the clear challenge on his face. She gasps a laugh.

“Oh yeah?”

“I know you remember,” he nearly growls, his voice low and scraping. She can feel it in her clit even though he’s not touching it.

“Bet you’ve been thinking about the way I pressed you up against your bar and made you come on my face. About how I hitched your leg up to keep you spread for me while you dripped on my tongue.”

He’s looking down at her through his lashes, his swollen lips wet and parted. It’s a dare. He’s playing with her just like she’s playing with him. For a second, Catalina feels like the one with the restraints around her wrists. And then she remembers she’s not.

He is.

“You’re a fucking tease, Mendes,” she chuckles, climbing off his stomach to sit beside him.

“Not teasing if I’m lying here totally willing,” he counters, “C’mon, honey. It would be so easy. Just take off those pretty panties and come sit on my face.”

Catalina’s jaw clenches. She looks up at his face. His grin falters.

“Turn over.”

Shawn’s face goes blank. He blinks at her. “What?”

Catalina remains firm, her face serene. “Turn over onto your stomach.”

Shawn opens his mouth as if to ask a question, but he thinks better of it. He fights to roll over with his hands bound, but the suspenders are long enough to allow him to twist until he’s flipped ass up.

“Tell me, baby,” she rasps, straddling his thighs, running her nose along the little curls at the back of his neck, “What would you do for me if I did sit on your face?”

Shawn’s massive shoulder blades come together as he inhales sharply. Catalina busies herself, waiting for his answer, by marking up his back the same way she did his chest. She starts on his shoulders, sweet wet lips tending to him after her teeth nip sharply.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, imagining what he’s going to look like when she’s done with him. Probably like he got mauled. How appropriate.

“I’d… fuck, I’d start nice and slow, honey. Miss you on my face so much. I’d take you in, tasting your sweet lips, feeling how warm and wet you are for me.”

Catalina groans encouragingly, sinking her teeth into an already inflamed mark at the top of his spine that makes him wince and grind into the bed.

“I’d let you rock against my face as I kiss you, letting you know I know how fucking lucky I am to have you, baby. Suck on your soft lips, massaging them with my tongue.”

“God, Shawn,” Catalina whines, sliding a flat palm down her stomach as she breathes wet and heavy against his left shoulder blade where a series of little bite marks are starting to purple. She presses her needy fingers against her pussy, soaked through her satin panties. The relief is good, but not enough.

“I know you like it when I flick your clit hard and fast to get you so fucking wet for me. But I’d do that nice and slow too, soft strokes from your entrance to your perfect little button of nerves. Hot and wet and slow until you’re begging for me, pulling my hair to get me to give you what you need.”

Catalina is panting hard, stroking her clit through her panties, hips rolling as she sucks hard at the center of his spine.

“I’d stiffen my tongue, moaning when I feel you dripping on my lips and cheeks. God, you’re so wet. You taste so good, so sweet. I’d want more. I’d slip my hot tongue between your lips and press into your entrance, thrusting in and out of you to feel you go even tighter for me. Can you feel it, baby? Can you feel me fucking you with my tongue?”

He’s onto her. Catalina doesn’t care. She nods eagerly for him to continue, whimpering into his abused skin, her hand moving faster against her wetness.

“You’re so wet we can both hear it. My hot breath is on your clit, my cheeks are wet from your thighs. You’re so close. Your clit is throbbing. You need me there again, don’t you, baby? Need me to play with your pretty clit to get you to come.”

Catalina moans again, the sound choked and soft. She shifts down, rolling her hips hard to meet the heel of her hand. She brushes the tip of her nose over the swell of his ass. With a deep breath, she bites down on his left cheek, grinning at his sharp gasp.

“Fuck! Fuck, Lina!” he cries, rolling his hips, fucking down against the mattress. She doesn’t let up, just follows her teeth with hungry lips and the occasional soothing of her tongue.

“More, Shawn,” she grunts before returning to her task. He shudders, nodding, eyes shut with his cheek on his pillow.

“Wanna hear you come for me. Wanna feel it all over me when you let go. I flatten my tongue against you, I know you need something to grind against to come hard. C’mon, baby. Give it to me. Fucking come on my face.”

Catalina’s shoulders pull, her back arching as she feels the hook. It drags her under, has her moaning and chanting his name into the firm flesh of his ass. Her hips buck wildly for several seconds. Shawn lives for each and every one, praising her as she drives through it, soothing her when she comes down.

When she does come down, lifting her head from his backside to see him smiling down at her, looking totally content even though she knows he’s beyond hard still, she hums, pressing a chaste kiss over the violet mark she left on his perfect ass.

“That’s gonna be a good one,” she giggles, tracing it with her fingertip. He shudders again, his eyelids fluttering.

Catalina peels herself away. She stands on shaky knees, shedding her soaked panties and her lace bra, dropping them on his floor while he watches.

“There’s no one on earth as beautiful as you,” he whispers, gazing at her almost hopelessly. She perches beside him, rubbing his back.

“I think you could give me a run for my money,” she replies, the corner of her mouth lifting. Shawn smiles, closing his eyes again.

“Can you turn back over for me, sweetheart?”

Shawn grunts as he flips himself back over. He has pillow marks on his cheek and his cock is harder, pinker, prettier than she’s ever seen one. She climbs over his thighs again, reaching between her legs to gather some wetness on her fingers. Shawn watches with bated breath until her fingers lift to his lips in offering. He accepts them with a grateful moan, sucking them into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue. Catalina smiles, using her other hand to stroke his cock, deciding he’s certainly earned some relief.

He’s the picture of sinful indulgence, lifting his hips to meet her strokes while he sucks needily on her fingers like they’re giving him life. He doesn’t want to let them go when she starts to pull them away. He nips at them teasingly, smirking at the reproachful look she gives him.

Catalina scoots her knees up, lifting to position the head of his throbbing cock at her entrance. Shawn watches, his chest quaking with his ragged breaths, waiting for it, for the perfect feeling he knows he could never get anywhere else. He’d wait forever for her.

“Please,” he urges, his head lolling back, “Lina.”

Catalina inhales, smiles shakily, and sinks down, taking him to the hilt.

Shawn hasn’t gotten so close to blowing his load too early since he was a fucking teenager. How is it better every time with her? How does she keep feeling better? He thought it was perfect the first time. Now, as he looks up at her, knowing she wants him, knowing she likes him, knowing he’s falling in love with her, he knows what perfect is.

She eases in, rolling her hips smoothly with a flick upward that has him shifting in and out of her as she rests in his lap.

“That’s… oh god, shit, Lina…”

She nods in agreement, breathless, thoughtless, with no goal other than to make him feel good. By the look on his face, she’s succeeding.

She shifts her weight into her hands on either side of his head, rocking down harder and a little faster. The noise is obscene. With every stroke up, she gasps a breath, reveling in the warm burn of the stretch. No one’s ever been so perfectly deep in her. No one’s ever felt so good. She knows it’s not just the sex -- it hasn’t been from the beginning. It’s him.

Shawn slides his feet up the bed to give him purchase to meet her hips. Their wet skin slaps and it’s the only thing louder than their synchronized breath. They’re staring at each other, memorizing, desperate to hold onto the feeling of such tantalizing closeness.

Catalina shifts, the angle of her hips meeting his allowing him to stroke her g-spot with every perfect roll. She snaps her eyes shut and gasps, slowing their rhythm, wringing out this feeling for all it’s worth.

“You getting lost down there?”

His voice is sharp and bright, poking through Catalina’s hazy cloud. She opens her eyes to see him grinning at her, a line of perfect white teeth sparkling, his eyes teasingly taunting.

“Wh--”

Before she can release any coherent thought, Shawn wriggles his hand, slipping from the bind of the suspender and freeing the other. Catalina’s mouth drops open. She wrinkles her brow and opens her mouth to protest, but Shawn wraps his arms around her and rolls them so she’s on her back, still gaping.

“You’re cute when you’re surprised,” Shawn hums, shifting onto his knees to pulse his cock even deeper.

“Shawn!” she croaks, spreading her legs wider to accommodate him as he takes over.

He’s not as controlled or subtle as Catalina was. He pounds in and out hard, restless, reckless as he chases after her orgasm. He’s single-minded, lifting her legs around his hips, using his grip on her for even more leverage. He’s holding her off the bed, watching her fall apart.

“Can’t hold on,” she squeaks, shaking her pretty head.

Shawn nods eagerly. “I know, princess. Time to let go. Fucking come, baby. Show me.”

Catalina’s eyes roll back. Her pussy pulses, fluttering around him, a warning before she falls. The squeeze of her around him, the way she screams as she bites down on his jaw, he swears it’s the most satisfied he’s ever felt. He fucks her through it, managing to hold himself off until she’s limp in his arms, blinking up at him lazily.

“Do something for me?” she whispers, but it’s a plea, not the start of a command.

Shawn nods, panting in her face.

“Kiss me when you come.”

Shawn’s face scrunches. His whole body aches with pleasure that makes his blood simmer. He reaches for her hand, linking their fingers. He looks at them, watches them intertwine when his rhythm fails. He looks back at her and sees her watching him. It’s all he needs to give in.

He drops his lips to hers, lets her drink in his rasping moans as he comes hard, his entire body spasming. She fists her free hand into his hair, steadying him against her, reminding him she’s close, as if he could forget. She takes him so well, rocking her hips to ease him from his peak, pressing kisses all over his face to let him breathe. He doesn’t want to breathe, he just wants her. He searches out her lips again, collapsing against her willing body, sighing into her mouth.

When at last he can stand the idea of releasing her lips, he shifts back, disconnecting their protesting bodies, cupping her face in his hand, the other still laced with hers.

They don’t speak again before they fall asleep. When he wakes up, she’s still there, twisting one of his curls around her finger, taking stock of the marks she left on him the night before. Neither of them even thinks about getting out of bed for hours.

---------

WOO that was a marathon and a sprint all in one. thanks for hanging on this crazy weekend, guys ✌🏻 if you feel so inclined, the link to buy me a Ko-fi is on my main page!

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte

[winchester19-67]

Fake Mrs. Winchester

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Just Fluff

Word Count: 7,034

Square Filled: Fake Marriage (Fluff Bingo)

Square Filled: Fake Marriage (Genre Bingo)

Square Filled: Fake Dating/Marriage (Dean Bingo)

A/N: This was written for @spnfluffbingo2019, @spngenrebingo, and @spndeanbingo.

"It's not funny, Dean," you say as you walk into the bunker.

"I thought it was hilarious," Dean says as he follows you down the steps. "Did you see the look on her face?"

"Yes, I saw it," you scoff as you rolls your eyes.

"Wish I had that on camera."

"Because you're an idiot."

"You two can't even go out on a supply run without tearing at each other's throats?" Sam asks, watching in amusement as you two argue.

"Apparently not," you say as you scowl at Dean.

"What happened?"

You sigh before turning to face Sam. "I ran into someone my parents used to know at the store. I knew her before I started hunting, so she started talking about my parents and how much they're missed. When Dean walked up, she immediately asked me if he was my boyfriend, and I told her no, so Mr. Macho over here...."

"Hey, I saved the day," Dean grins.

"Oh, yeah. A real hero," you say sarcastically.

"That lady looked like she was so disappointed in you when you told her I wasn't your boyfriend," Dean says. "I could tell her attitude was bothering you."

"What did you do?" Sam asks him.

"I did what any level-headed guy would do," Dean begins. "I grabbed (Y/N) around the waist and said 'I'm not her boyfriend. I'm her husband.'"

Sam starts laughing, and you direct your scowl at him before turning to walk off down the hallway.

"(Y/N), hang on a second!" Dean hollers as he catches up to you. "Sweetheart, we didn't mean anything by it. We're not laughing at you."

"I know," you say as you duck your head a bit.

"Then why are you acting embarrassed?"

The truth is, you're not the least bit embarrassed by it. You're actually jealous of the fake life that Dean created for you that was short lived. But you're not going to tell him that.

"It's no big deal," you reply.

Dean frowns a bit. "We'll stop. I promise."

You nod your head before walking off, hoping that he'll stick to his word. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, absoutely not."

"(Y/N)..."

"You promised me that you two would stop teasing me about it."

"We're not teasing you this time, sweetheart," Dean tells you. "We need you for a case."

"No. I won't do it."

"Out of all the crazy things we've asked from you, pretending to be my wife for a few days is the one thing you turn down?"

"This is just another way for you to laugh at me."

"(Y/N)," Dean says softly as he reaches out to grab onto your arm. "Why would we have been laughing at you, anyways? You didn't do anything. I was the one that said that to get that lady to leave you alone. Why are you taking this so personally?"

You just shake your head. "Fine," you sigh. "I'll help. But why couldn't it be me and Sam going undercover?"

"Well, I'm offended," Dean jokes as he places a hand over his heart. You roll your eyes and smile a bit at his theatrics.

"I didn't mean anything by it," you tell him truthfully. "It was an honest question."

"I was kidding," Dean laughs. "Sam's gonna stay back for research. You of all people should know that I avoid that at all costs."

"Even if it means having to pretend that you're married to me?"

"Hey," Dean says as he shrugs his shoulders. "There's a lot worse ways to spend the weekend."

"You mean there's worse things than me having to pretend that I'm..."

"Fake Mrs. Winchester."

You roll your eyes at him. "Tell me what we're up against," you say, wondering if there's still hope for you to back out of this.

"Look, go get packed up and meet me by Baby in a few minutes. I'll tell you on the way."

You take your time getting everything together. Honestly, you're looking forward to being Mrs. Winchester for a couple days, but, at the same time, you're afraid. Afraid that the feelings you have for Dean will finally come to the surface.

You take a deep breath and look around to make sure you didn't forget anything before grabbing your bag and heading outside to meet Dean. ~~~~~~~~~~~

"So there have been six women found murdered there in the last month?"

"Yep."

"And after all but one, there has been witnesses that said they saw the husband leaving the room."

"Yep."

"So?"

"So, what?" Dean asks as he looks over at you.

"So why do you think this is our kind of thing?"

"Because there were also witnesses that said they saw the husband elsewhere at the time of the murders," Dean replies. "And in most cases, the husband is the one who found their wife, and they all swore they had nothing to do with it. Unless there's a bunch of people at six different murders who can make up a lie that they saw the same guy in two different places at the same time, then..."

"Shapeshifter?"

"More than likely," Dean replies. "Listen, sweetheart, I'm sorry I roped you into this."

"Don't be," you reply as you shake your head. "You know I'll do whatever I can to help out."

"Just so you know, we have to act madly in love this entire weekend," Dean says dramatically. You laugh a bit and shake your head at him.

"I mean it, though," Dean says a bit more seriously this time. "We have to sell this if we're gonna keep anybody else from getting hurt. When we're around people. When we're alone in the room..."

"Why then?"

"You never know when that monster could be watching."

"Dean," you say as goosebumps take over your skin. "That sounds creepy."

"Just saying," Dean chuckles. "Oh, I almost forgot." Dean digs into his pocket before dropping something into your hand.

"It's a wedding ring."

"Yeah," Dean says. "We gotta sell this, right?"

"Yeah," you agree, your eyes being drawn to the silver wedding band on Dean's left hand. You're not gonna lie and say that he doesn't look good wearing it.

The car stops, and you look up at the tall, fancy hotel that Dean pulled up at before turning around to face him.

"This is where we're staying?"

"Well, this is where the murders have been happening," Dean tells you. "Why? Something wrong with it?"

"No," you reply slowly. "I just... It's nicer than anywhere we've ever stayed."

"Yeah, well," Dean looks over at you and smiles, "only the best for my wife."

You roll your eyes and shake your head.

"Hey," Dean says as he reaches over to place a hand on your arm. "Remember what I said."

"I know," you tell him. "Madly in love." Dean chuckles and shakes his head at you. He parks the car and looks back over at you.

"You ready, babe?"

"Dean," you laugh as he gives you a look as if he's waiting for your response. "Absolutely, dear."

Dean laughs again before you two get out of the car. You go to get your bag, but Dean beats you to it.

"Dean..."

"I got it," he tells you as he winks at you. You turn to look at the hotel again, the feel of Dean's hand suddenly taking yours, catching you off guard. You feel your cheeks heat up, and you look down at the ground.

"Hey," Dean says as he turns to stand in front of you, still holding your hand. He uses his free hand to gently grip your arm, pulling you in a bit closer before leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"We're supposed to be married, so you might wanna try not to blush and get all shy everytime I hold your hand." Dean places a kiss to your cheek before pulling back to smile at you. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you smile before Dean begins leading you towards the door. The second you walk up to the front desk, the woman standing on the other side looks up at Dean and smiles brightly, causing a surge of jealousy to run through you.

You try to keep your attention focused on Dean as he checks you both into your room. Once he has the key he turns to face you again.

"Ready, sweetheart?" Dean asks you as he wraps an arm around your waist.

"Of course," you smile as you turn to walk away, making sure the woman gets a very good look at your wedding ring. Once you're almost to the elevators, Dean leans in close to you.

"Someone's jealous," Dean sings as he smirks at you.

"What?" you ask as you look up at him. "I am not."

"Oh, come on, sweetheart," Dean laughs. "It was obvious she was flirting with me, and it was obvious you didn't like it."

"Whatever."

"Hey, I think it's cute that you got all territorial," Dean teases as you both step onto the elevator. You shake your head at Dean, and he smiles before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

Your heart pounds all the way to your room. You just about melted over a kiss on the head.

How on earth am I supposed to survive this weekend? You ask yourself as Dean opens the door to your room. Once you're both inside and Dean shuts the door, you turn to face him.

"Were you serious about us having to keep the act up even when we're in our room?"

"No," Dean smiles as he shakes his head at you. "I just like watching you squirm."

"Watch it, Winchester," you tell him. "I will shoot you."

"Don't doubt that one bit," Dean tells you. "Although, if you wanted to, we could stay in character while we're in the room. It might make it easier to act when we're in public. And, you know, that way we can practice..."

"What did I just say about shooting you?"

"What?" Dean laughs. "I wasn't going to say anything dirty."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Mhm."

"I wasn't," Dean says as he holds his hands up. "I was going to say that we could practice our acting. Not that you need to. You already have the jealous wife thing down."

You roll your eyes at him as you walk over to the bed and set your bag down. Dean walks over to the couch and moves all the pillows down to one end before grabbing a blanket.

"What are you doing?"

Dean looks over at you and gives you a questioning look. "I'm fixing my bed."

"There's a nice bed right here," you tell him as you point to the bed.

"You can sleep there."

"We can both sleep here," you suggest. "I don't mind, Dean. Really."

"Okay," he replies before walking over to the other side of the bed. You grab your clothes out of your bag before looking back over at Dean.

"You want the bathroom first?"

"Go ahead," Dean tells you.

"Okay," you reply before heading over to the bathroom. Once the door is shut, you sigh and hold out your left hand, looking at the shiny wedding ring that you wish actually represented something.

Once you get dressed, you head back out to the bedroom and stop when you see Dean sitting on the bed in a t-shirt and boxers. You take a deep breath before walking over to the bed and climbing in under the covers.

"You're going to sleep already?" Dean asks you.

"Yeah," you yawn. "We spent all day in the car. We have to get up early."

"Okay," Dean says. "It's just... You usually stay up until two in the morning."

"Yeah, when we're not busy," you reply. "But we're on a case now. I need my rest."

Dean smirks at you. "This makes you uncomfortable."

"What?"

"Admit it," Dean tells you. "This is making you uncomfortable. Don't worry. I'll stay on top of the covers."

"This is not making me uncomfortable," you tell Dean as you prop yourself up on your elbows. "Dean, this isn't the first time we've shared a bed on a hunt."

"Yeah," Dean drawls out, "but this is the first time we've shared a bed as a married couple." You roll your eyes at him before laying back down and turning your back to him.

"Oh," Dean says softly. "That's what's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me," you reply.

"Okay," Dean says as he lays down beside of you.

"Weren't you just making fun of me for going to bed too early?"

"Too early for you," Dean says, smiling at you.

"You know, my offer to shoot you still stands." Dean laughs as you reach over to turn the lamp out.

You both lay there for a few minutes before you feel Dean shift and his arm goes around you. You tense a bit, and he pulls his arm back.

"Sorry."

"No," you say before reaching over to pull Dean's arm back over. "It's okay."

"Alright," Dean replies. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

You smile a bit before resting your head over onto Dean's shoulder. "Goodnight." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you wake up, Dean is no longer there. You look over at the clock and decide to go ahead and get up.

"Dean?" you holler as you get out of bed. When you don't get a reply, you go on over to the closet and immediately cringe when you see the dresses hanging there.

Stupid fancy hotel you think as you go through your wardrobe for the weekend. Stupid fancy hotel with the fancy dinner parties that we just have to attend for the stupid case.

You shake your head and slam the closet door shut. You know it's dumb to get mad about staying at a nice hotel for once and wearing nice clothes, but you also know the only reason you're so upset is because...

"Dean," you say as he walks through the door. "Where'd you go? I woke up and you weren't..."

"There was another murder," Dean says as he hurries across the room and starts digging around in his bag.

"What? When?"

"Last night," Dean says. "A couple on the floor below us."

"Same as the others?"

"Yep," Dean replies without even looking up at you. You wait a few more minutes, and Dean still doesn't even glance your way.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"What?" Dean asks as he finally looks up at you.

"Did I do something wrong?" you ask him again. "You're pretty much ignoring me right now, and..."

"No. No, (Y/N)," Dean says as he drops his bag back down to the bed. "I'm sorry, it's just that this is what we're supposed to be here for. We were supposed to keep this from happening again."

"Dean," you say softly as you walk over to him. "Neither of us could've known."

"I know," Dean sighs as he looks over at you.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I don't know," Dean says as he shrugs his shoulders. "You just looked peaceful and I figured you deserved to rest a while longer."

"Oh," you reply. "Well, thank you."

Dean nods once before pulling something out of his bag and holding it out towards you. You look at the chain he's holding and smile at him.

"What's this?"

Dean raises an eyebrow at you. "You've never seen a necklace before?"

"Of course not," you say sarcastically as you smile at him. "I just... What's this for?"

"Well I, um... I figured you ought to have something nice," Dean tells you. "I don't know. I just saw it, and I thought of you. I thought maybe you could wear it with your dresses. If you don't like it..."

"No. No," you say quickly. "I just... Dean, this had to cost a pretty penny."

"Wasn't my pretty penny," Dean jokes. "Hey, at least it's not gold. That's a lot more expensive than silver."

"Good point," you laugh. "Thank you." Dean nods his head once before handing the necklace over to you. "So, what are we going to do today?"

"Well, I thought I'd interview the husband..."

"Wait, just you?" you ask him.

"Yeah," Dean replies. "I just thought that since we're supposed to be married, it would be weird if we were F.B.I. partners too."

"Yeah, you're right," you reply as you nod your head.

"Hey," Dean says as he reaches out to place a hand on your arm. "I promise that's all it is. If I thought you weren't good enough, I wouldn't have asked you to come."

"Well, that's reassuring," you tease.

"I mean it," Dean tells you. "I needed you to come so we could get on the shifter's radar."

"So, you needed me for bait?"

Dean sighs. "(Y/N), I..."

"I'm teasing, Dean," you laugh.

He smiles at you and shakes his head. "Listen, I might be gone a while, but I promise that you won't be stuck in this room all day."

"Why would I be stuck in the room all day?" you ask him. "Don't I have the freedom to come and go as I please?" The look on Dean's face gives away the answer. "You want me to stay in here?"

"Just when I can't be with you," Dean tells you. "You're bait now, sweetheart."

"I know," you sigh.

"Listen, when I get back, we'll go do something, okay?" Dean says. "Until then, please keep the door locked."

"Wow, we've really got this down," you say, earning a raised eyebrow from Dean. "The jealous wife, and the overprotective husband."

Dean chuckles. "Yeah, we've definitely got this whole marriage thing under control." You smile, and Dean starts over to the door. "Remember what I said..."

"Keep the door locked," you say as you hold both of your hands up. "I know honey." Dean smiles and shakes his head at you before walking out the door.

You sigh and sit down on the bed, resting your head in your hands. Yep, you're definitely not going to survive this weekend. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What did you find out today?" you ask Dean as you lean closer to him as you two walk arm in arm down to dinner.

"Same as the others," Dean replies quietly. "The husband left the room for a minute, came back to find his wife had been murdered, and there's witnesses placing him at the scene and the front desk at the same time."

"Not good," you breathe out.

"Definitely not good."

"Anything else?"

"I'll tell you after dinner," Dean says as he leads you into the busy dinning area. You tense up a bit, and Dean looks down at you. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply. "It's just... Everybody here looks like they're millionaires."

"They probably are," Dean tells you. "Why?"

"You know how rich people are," you say. "They think they're better than everybody else. They're always judging."

"Sweetheart, nobody's judging us," Dean says as he wraps his arm around your waist. "And even if they are, that's their problem. Just relax."

You nod your head, and Dean rubs his hand up and down your arm. He leads you over to an empty table and pulls a chair out for you. You sit down and nervously look around the room until you feel Dean's hand take yours. You look across the table at Dean and try your best to return the smile he's giving you.

"Relax," Dean says again as he squeezes your hand a bit. "Look, here comes the waiter. That means food." You laugh at him and shake your head.

Once you both order, you lean forward closer to Dean.

"How are we going to figure out who the shifter is?" you ask quietly. "Dean, have you seen how many people there are here?"

"I know," he says. "All we can do is keep the act up, and..." Dean stops talking when the waiter brings your food out, and waits until he walks back off before leaning back over the table.

"Let's just hope that we're next before someone else dies," Dean finishes.

"We?" you ask him. "You do remember that I'm supposed to be the victim."

"Yes, I know," Dean says before taking a bite of his food. He makes a face, and you can't help but to laugh at him.

"Why don't we go sneak out of here and find somewhere that has a cheeseburger?"

"Best idea ever," Dean smiles. "But not right now. We have to..."

"I know. Make sure that I'm the next one to die."

"You're not going to die," Dean says seriously.

"I know that," you tell him. "I was just joking."

"It's not something to joke about."

"Sorry," you mumble before leaning back in your chair.

Dean sighs and shakes his head. "Listen, (Y/N)..."

"I know," you begin. "You're just trying to protect me."

Dean looks around a moment before turning back to face you. "If we want this thing to get us in his sights, we need to ramp things up."

"What do you have in mind?" you ask as you wiggle your eyebrows.

Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes at you. "You know what I mean."

You think about it for a moment before smiling and standing up out of your chair.

"Come on," you tell Dean as you walk over to him and hold a hand out. He raises an eyebrow at you.

"What are we doing?"

You look over your shoulder and nod in the direction at the dance floor.

"Oh, no," Dean says as he holds his hands up. "I don't dance."

"You won't be able to say that after tonight," you smile. "Please."

"No," Dean says as he stands up out of his chair and takes your hand in his. "But I have a better idea."

Dean starts leading you over to the bar, and you pull back on his hand.

"No, Dean," you tell him. "Later."

Dean pulls you in close and wraps an arm around your waist before whispering in your ear. "The bartender looks suspicious. I know it's not a lot, but it's all we've got to go on right now."

You nod your head before letting Dean drag you over to the bar. "You want anything?" Dean asks as he sits down on a barstool.

"No. I want to be sober enough to dance."

"I'm not dancing," Dean tells you as he pulls you in close to him so you're standing between his legs.

"Then I'll just have to find another dancing partner."

"Over my dead body," Dean says as he reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. You feel your cheeks get hot, and Dean leans up to talk in your ear again. "You're blushing."

"I can't help it," you say softly as you take the seat next to him.

"Hey," Dean says as he reaches over to take your hand in his, causing you to look over at him and smile. "I love you."

Your heart starts racing, but you know why he's saying it. It's all just part of the act. "I love you too."

Dean turns to say something to the bartender, but you can't hear what he's saying. All you can focus on is the burning feeling behind your eyes and the heaviness in your chest. Gosh, how you wish those words actually meant something.

"(Y/N)?" Dean says as he gives you a concerned look. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," you reply, giving him your best smile. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" You nod your head, and Dean leans in a bit. He surprises you by placing a soft kiss to your neck, making his way up to your ear.

"I don't think it's the bartender," he tells you. You turn your head a bit closer to him, trying your best to keep a smile on your face.

"What about that older lady sitting by herself over there?" you ask him. "She keeps staring at us." Dean stands up off the barstool and moves to stand in front of you.

"She still looking?" Dean cocks an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah," you reply. "Why?"

Dean places a finger under your chin and lifts your head up a bit. He leans in and places a short, sweet kiss on your lips before pulling back to look you in the eyes. If you didn't know any better, you'd say from the look Dean is giving you that he's hopelessly in love with you. But, sadly, you do know better.

You swallow hard before Dean leans in again, his lips pressing a bit harder to yours. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you bring both of your hands up to his chest.

Your heart pounds and your ears ring. You've always dreamt of what Dean's lips would feel like against yours, but even your dreams didn't do this moment justice.

When Dean pulls back again, he gives you a sweet smile that you hope you do well in returning. You see movement out of the corner of your eye, and you look quickly to see the lady walking towards you.

"Incoming," you whisper to Dean just seconds before the lady appears in front of you.

"Hi," she says in an overly cheery voice. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but to notice how cute you two are."

"Thank you," you say friendly. She looks at Dean and gives him a bit too friendly of a smile. Dean wraps his arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Have you been married long?"

"We're on our honeymoon," Dean replies before pulling you back a bit to look at your face. "You almost ready to head on up, sweetheart?"

"I am if you are," you tell him. Dean looks back over at the lady and smiles a bit.

"Excuse us," he says before pulling you up off the barstool.

"Of course," the woman replies before walking off.

Dean leads you out into the lobby and over to the elevators. You feel him tense up a bit, and you look up at him.

"Dean?"

"I feel like we're being followed," he says quietly. He turns to stand in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you wait for the elevator. Dean leans his forehead against yours, his eyes darting to the side.

"She followed us," Dean mutters. "I think she's the shifter."

"Or," you drag out, "she could just have a crush on you."

"Jealous," Dean chuckles. You shake your head at him, the elevator arriving as you roll your eyes. Dean keeps an arm around your waist as you two walk onto the elevator.

Once the doors close, you take a small step away from Dean, expecting him to let you go now that you're away from everybody. Instead, Dean pulls you in even closer before looking down at you and smiling.

"You did good back there," Dean tells you.

"You too," you reply. "How'd you answer her so fast when she asked how long we've been married?"

"That's what I was going to tell you after dinner," Dean says. "All of the couple's were newlyweds."

"Oh," you reply as the doors open.

When you step out of the elevator, you see the woman peeking around the corner.

"Now what?" you ask Dean quietly.

"Nothing," Dean replies. "The shifter probably won't do anything until tonight when there's not as many people out roaming the hallways. She'll watch and wait until I'm gone tonight before striking."

Once you both get into the room, the feelings from today hit you full force. "I think I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Okay," Dean replies. "I'm gonna go find the nearest fast food place."

"Good idea," you smile. "Wait, how am I supposed to know that it's you who comes back?" Dean thinks about it for a moment before answering.

"If I come through that door without a greasy bag in my hand, shoot me."

"I was planning on it anyways," you tease.

Dean chuckles before placing a kiss on your forehead. "See you in a minute, sweetheart."

When Dean walks out the door, you just stand there for a moment.

He kissed me, you think to yourself. There's nobody around to convince that we're together, and he still kissed me.

Sure it was just a kiss on the forehead. You know that. But it... felt different.

You take a deep breath before turning around and heading towards the bathroom. You quickly shed the dress before jumping under the stream of warm water, and that's when it all becomes too much.

The heaviness in your chest. The burning behind your eyes. The blurred lines.

You let the tears fall as your knees give out. All the innocent touches. The kiss that you know meant nothing to Dean. It all means everything to you, and you know it would be dumb to think that this feeling could ever be mutual.

When you hear the door to the room open and close, you quickly stop the tears and step out of the shower.

"(Y/N)?" Dean hollers. "I promise it's me, so don't shoot."

You quickly dry off and get dressed, the heavy feeling not going away.

"I wasn't for sure what you'd want," Dean says as he sits down on the bed with his back facing the bathroom door. "So I just got you a burger."

"That's fine," you say softly as you walk out of the bathroom.

"Listen," Dean says as he begins to turn on the bed to face you. "I thought maybe tomorrow we could... Sweetheart, you've been crying," Dean says as he gives you a concerned look.

"No I haven't," you reply as you shake your head. "I just got out of the shower. My face is wet."

"(Y/N)," Dean says as he reaches out to grab your arm, gently pulling on it until you sit down beside of him on the bed. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Can we just eat?" you ask hoarsely.

"Okay," Dean says softly as he grabs the bag from where he set it on the ground.

He hands you a burger, and you stare at it for a minute before the tears start again. Dean quickly sets the food back down before wrapping both of his arms tightly around you. You start sobbing into his chest. You know that it's completely ridiculous, but you also don't care.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," Dean says softly as he rubs a hand up and down your arm. "You're alright." Dean holds you while you cry yourself dry. It's like there's no more tears left, but the sobs keep coming.

"What happened, pretty girl?" Dean asks you.

You shake your head. "I can't tell you."

"(Y/N), you can tell me anything," Dean tells you. "Please."

"You'll hate me."

"Honey, I could never hate you. I'm your friend, aren't I? Isn't this what friends are for?"

"It's this case," you get out between heavy breaths. "It's having to pretend that I'm your wife."

"Oh," Dean breathes out. "I didn't know that acting like you're in love with me would be so difficult for you."

"That's the problem," you sob. "I've not been having to act very hard."

Dean's very quiet for a while, and it scares you.

"Told you you'd hate me."

"No, no, no," Dean says as he tightens his hold on you. "And I told you I could never hate you. I just... I've not really been acting either."

Your eyes widen a bit as his words sink in.

"Oh," you breathe out this time. "I, um.."

Dean brings a hand up to cup your cheek as he slowly lowers his head towards yours. His lips barely meet yours before he pulls back to look at you. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you nod your head before Dean's lips meets yours again in a much more passionate kiss.

You bring your hands up to play in Dean's hair, and he places his hands on your back before lowering you down onto the bed. When you both need to pull back for air, you look up at Dean and wrap your arms around his neck.

"What now?" you ask him.

"How about we finish this hunt, put this on hold for now, and talk about us when we get back to the bunker?" Dean suggests. "Sound good?"

You smile at him and nod your head. "It sounds great." Dean leans in to kiss you once more before smiling at you again.

"You ready to eat now?"

"Yeah," you laugh. "Definitely."

Dean sits up and pulls you up with him before grabbing the food. "You know, there's another dinner tomorrow night that we should probably go to if nothing happens tonight."

"Sounds fun," you say. "You remember the exact location of that restaurant, right?"

"Absolutely," Dean says around a mouthful of burger. You giggle and lay your head on Dean's shoulder, causing him to rest his head against yours.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"I promise I'll dance with you tomorrow night." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh and check your hair once more before walking out of the bathroom. There were no other murders last night, and you and Dean never saw that woman again so the shifter probably changed appearances again. So the only thing you two can do now is go back down to dinner and hope for the best.

You wanted to look good last night, but tonight, knowing where you and Dean stand with each other, you're trying your best to look as good as you can.

"You ready for this?" Dean asks you as he fixes his tie in the mirror.

"You mean am I ready to go make a complete fool of myself?" you ask as you shut the bathroom door behind you. "Yeah, absolutely."

"Doubt you could ever do that," Dean tells you.

"Yeah, well, I can't exactly dance," you admit.

"Well, then we'll fail together," Dean says, causing you to laugh a bit. "Anyways, dancing was your idea."

"I know," you smile. "I never said it wouldn't be fun."

"You know, sweetheart..." Dean trails off when he catches your gaze in the mirror. His eyes widen and he turns around to face you. "Wow, (Y/N)."

You blush and look down at your shoes. "It's not too much?"

"Are you kidding?" Dean asks as he walks over to you. "You look amazing. I mean, you've seen what everybody else here wears, right? And you think that's too much?"

"I just... I don't get to dress up much with the lives we live."

"Yeah," Dean says quietly as he continues to stare at you. His gaze becomes too much, so you try to turn his attention elsewhere.

"Would you, um..." You reach over onto the dresser and grab the necklace Dean bought you. "I was thinking about wearing this tonight," you tell him as you hold the necklace up. "Do you care to..."

"Of course not," Dean smiles before you even get the chance to finish your sentence. You drape the necklace around your neck before turning to face Dean. He goes to take it from you, but hisses in pain and drops his end at the last second.

"Dean?" you say in a concerned tone before turning to face him. "Are you..."

And that's when it hits you. That's the moment you remember the conversation you had with Dean when he first gave you the necklace.

"What's this?"

Dean raises an eyebrow at you. "You've never seen a necklace before?"

"Of course not," you say sarcastically as you smile at him. "I just... What's this for?"

"Well I, um... I figured you ought to have something nice," Dean tells you. "I don't know. I just saw it, and I thought of you. I thought maybe you could wear it with your dresses. If you don't like it..."

"No. No," you say quickly. "I just... Dean, this had to cost a pretty penny."

"Wasn't my pretty penny," Dean jokes. "Hey, at least it's not gold. That's a lot more expensive than silver."

Silver.

You quickly pull open the top dresser drawer and pull out your gun. You flip the safety off and turn to face the imposter.

"Woah, sweetheart," Dean says as he holds both of his hands up. "Wh-What are you doing?"

"On your knees," you demand. "On your knees! Now!" He quickly complies, and you take a step closer to the supposed shifter. "You're not him," you say through gritted teeth. "Where is he?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not really Dean," you say, pressing the barrel of the gun to the monster's forehead. "Where is he?"

"(Y/N), have you not been getting enough sleep?" he asks. "Of course I'm really me. What do you..."

The door comes flying open, and Dean, who you're hoping is the real Dean, comes barging into the room. You quickly bring the gun up towards him, and your brain goes haywire.

You know which Dean is real and which is the fake, but having them both in the room like this, there's a doubt that's worming it's way into your mind. What if I have it all wrong?

"Not so sure of yourself now, huh, (Y/N)?" the shifter, or who you think is the shifter, asks.

You look up at the real Dean, and your heart pounds when you see the fear in his eyes.

"Catch," you say just a split-second before tossing him the necklace. When he catches it and doesn't have a reaction, you immediately lower the gun and pull the trigger, causing the monster down on his knees to fall in front of your feet.

You quickly set the gun down on top of the dresser before barreling across the room and into Dean's arms.

"It's okay now, sweetheart," Dean says as he rubs a hand up and down your back. "You're okay. We need to get going before somebody shows up, alright?" You nod your head, and Dean quickly begins to pack up everything. You help him before the two of you make a run for downstairs and towards the car.

He takes a moment to pull you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"How'd you know?"

"When he touched the necklace," you reply. Dean pulls the chain out of his pocket and smiles at it, shaking his head.

"Thank God for jewelry."

You giggle, and Dean hands the necklace back to you.

"Come on," he tells you. "We should get going. Have a long drive ahead of us."

The entire ride back to the bunker, Dean doesn't let go of your hand. He rubs his thumb back and forth over your knuckles, and you don't remember the last time someone has made you feel this safe just through a simple gesture. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You groan when someone knocks on your door. Ever since you and Dean got back to the bunker, you've done nothing but slept. You just need a couple more hours. When you open your door to see Sam standing there, you scowl at him.

"This better be good."

"Look," Sam says as he holds his hands up in defense. "Dean told me to tell you to dress up exactly like you were last night, and to meet him in the library in twenty minutes."

"Why?"

"No clue," Sam tells you. "I'm just the messenger."

Sam shuts the door back, and you debate on just going back to bed. Instead, you decide to follow directions and put the dress back on.

"This better not be another case," you mumble as you brush your hair out, trying to fix it at least somewhat similar to the way you had it last night. Once everything seems to be in order, you grab the necklace and do your best in clasping it yourself. Once you're done, you give yourself a once-over in the mirror before walking out of your room and towards the library.

You become more confused when you hear soft music flowing down the hallway. You turn the corner, and stop right in your tracks when you see that the library has been rearranged.

All of the tables have been moved out, leaving lots of room on the floor. All of the lights are turned out, save for the candles set up in various places around the room. But the most pleasing sight is of Dean standing there in the suit he was wearing last night.

"What's all of this?" you ask Dean. He smiles at you.

"I promised you a dance, didn't I?"

You smile at him. "I believe you did."

He holds an arm out towards you. "Care to join me, fake Mrs. Winchester?"

You laugh a bit as you begin to walk over towards Dean. He takes your hand and leads you up the steps and into the library before wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I, um... I'm not sure how..."

"It's okay," Dean interrupts. "We can suck at it together."

You smile at him, letting him take the lead. After you two get into a comfortable rhythm, you lean your head over onto Dean's chest.

"You know," Dean begins as he rests his chin on the top of your head. "I really wouldn't mind it if one day in the future you weren't fake Mrs. Winchester anymore."

You move your head up to look at Dean and you smile widely. "I wouldn't mind that either."

Dean immediately kisses you and pulls you in closer, holding you tighter to him.

"I love you," Dean whispers as he pulls back. "And I... I mean it, (Y/N). Honestly, there wasn't one time this weekend that I said those words and didn't mean them one hundred percent."

Your eyes widen a bit. "Really?"

"Really," Dean replies truthfully.

"Same here," you tell him. "And I love you too."

Dean kisses the top of your head before pulling you in close again. Dean's arms are wrapped around your waist, and your hands stay on his shoulders as the both of you slowly sway back and forth to the music.

[zen3to5]

J/H 4-04: Hyde Goes Cruisin’

Okay, time for a page-one rewrite!

Some of you could probably guess that this episode would be on the list for a rewrite project like this. And I actually think it's been changed enough that the original title doesn't fit anymore. So, instead of "Hyde Gets the Girl," you have "Hyde Goes Cruisin'." We assume that 4-03, "Pinciotti vs. Forman," remains the same.

A few scenes here adapt material, not only from scenes cut from other rewritten scripts, but also the characters from the old That '70s Show website. My understanding is that those were treated as semi-official, so I figured they were fair game.

FF.Net AO3

---

SHOW TITLE   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - DAY   A slow afternoon. HYDE sits in his chair, ERIC sits on one end of the couch, and FEZ on the other. The boys are watching HOLLYWOOD SQUARES, though only Fez seems invested.   FEZ: Elke Sommer to block. Elke Sommer to block. (it doesn’t work) Oh, you stupid son of a bitch!   ERIC: (sighs) Donna loved Hollywood Squares.   HYDE: Ah, Forman. Come on, man. Give it a rest, huh? So you’re single now. That’s a good thing! Now you’re like me, man. You’re free to be with lots of subpar, somewhat sleazy chicks. It’s Christmas, baby!   FEZ: Oh, you disguise your heart, Hyde, but I know you need love.   HYDE: Why’s that?   FEZ: (beat) ‘Cause I need it.   ERIC: (to Hyde) No, he’s right, man. I mean, Donna and I might have broken up, but you liked Jackie and you never even had her. You’re telling me that doesn’t hurt?   HYDE: Come on, Forman. You didn’t think that was serious, did you? I was just settin’ up for the biggest burn ever on Kelso.   ERIC: You got them back together.   HYDE: (shrugs) Know when to fold ‘em, man. (stands) Now, hey – this Friday night, you’re coming out cruisin’ for chicks with me in the El Camino. Of course, if we meet anyone hot, I’m taking her, but I’m sure we can find you a girl just this side of gross.   He claps Eric on the shoulder and exits through the basement door.   ERIC: (to Fez) No. I don’t care what he says. That unholy little demon crush Hyde had on Jackie, that was real, and it hurts him that she’s back with Kelso. And just once, I wish we could catch him with his guard down about it, so we could make fun of him. We’d be all, “hey, Hyde...”   He gestures wildly, looking for the right insult.   ERIC (cont’d): “You really liked a girl and you blew it! Yeah, burn! Welcome to Hell!” (beat) Oh, God, I’m in Hell!   He throws his head back and moans as Fez turns back to the TV.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - DAY   Early afternoon. Friday has come. KITTY sits at the kitchen table, going through one of many catalogues she has out. They all concern interior design.   RED enters from the living room, sees Kitty reading.   RED: What’s all this?   KITTY: Hmm? Oh, well, I’ve been taking so much work for the church home with me, I’m thinking of turning one of the empty rooms we have into a workspace.   RED: (beat) When you say “empty rooms,” are you counting my garage?   KITTY: No.   RED: Sounds great. I’ll find you a good, cheap contractor.   KITTY: Oh, no, no, no, no. This is something I want to handle myself.   RED: This is gonna be expensive, isn’t it?   KITTY: Maybe.   RED: Don’t you like anything cheap?   KITTY: I like you.   She smiles up at him. Red rolls his eyes and heads to the fridge for a beer.   Eric enters from the basement and heads for the patio door.   ERIC: Hey. Hyde and I are going tonight.   KITTY: Oh, good. I asked Jackie over for some decorating help, so it’ll be nice for Steven to have something to do on a Friday night without his girlfriend.   ERIC: Mom, we keep telling you, Jackie is not...   He recognizes the opening for a burn, and he takes it.   ERIC (cont’d): ... Ever going to pass up a chance to share her knowledge of interior design, and if that means giving up a date night – well then, that’s just a sacrifice Hyde will have to make.   Kitty chuckles and smiles at him. He grins back and heads out the patio door.   CUT TO:   EXT. HUB PARKING LOT – DAY   Most of the lot is taken up by a promotional booth and table for WFPP, and a white-and-green Volkswagen Samba. MAX stands by the table with a clipboard in hand. DONNA and her co-worker MELISSA man the booth, its speakers blaring out rock music.   KELSO and BOB circle admiringly around the Samba as a few other interested parties place hands on it.   KELSO: Oh, man! (to Bob) Oh, I hope I win this van! I really need a place to do it with Jackie.   He grins and turns back to the Samba, oblivious to Bob’s discomfort.   At the booth, Melissa nudges Donna with her elbow.   MELISSA: Check out that idiot’s ‘fro.   She points to Bob and chuckles.   DONNA: That’s my dad.   MELISSA: Oh! Uh...   DONNA: No... okay, yeah, you’re right.   They laugh as Max crosses over to the crowd around the van.   MAX: Okay, listen up, everybody. Welcome to the WFPP Hand 2 Van giveaway. The rules are simple: you place one hand on the van. If you remove your hand for any reason, you’re out. Last person to remove his hand wins the van.   Those interested, including Bob and Kelso, place a hand on the Samba.   MAX (cont’d): Any questions?   One DUPE raises his hand – the hand he had on the van.   MAX (cont’d): You’re out.   The dupe slinks away.   MAX (cont’d): Any other questions?   A disreputable-looking character with a bad moustache approaches – DANIEL.   DANIEL: Don’t start without me, Max.   MAX: Oh, God.   Slowly, confidently, Daniel makes his way around the van until he stands across from Kelso and Bob.   DANIEL: Hello. My name is Daniel, and I have won every WFPP contest since the Weber Gas Grill Trampoline Bounce of 1972. I am unbeatable. So, the choice is yours: joy or despair... pleasure or pain...   He slips a glove onto his right hand and holds it up.   DANIEL (cont’d): Life or death.   He slaps his hand down on the Samba.   DANIEL (cont’d): I am Daniel! And I cannot be beaten.   He is determined, Bob is unnerved, and Kelso is giddy and slightly impressed.   BUMPER   EXT. ROAD – EVENING   The El Camino is parked on the street in-between the Forman and Pinciotti homes. Hyde is at the wheel, Eric sits in the passenger’s seat, and Fez is wedged into the space in between.   HYDE: Alright, boys, let’s hit the road.   He starts up the car.   FEZ: Hyde, when we cruise a girl, how long do we have to talk to them before they will french us?   HYDE: That depends on what kind of girl you’re cruising for. Which is why I suggest you aim low. Real low.   ERIC: Well, I’m already at the bottom of a black pit of despair, so I think I’m about as low as I can get.   HYDE: (to Eric) Hey, none of that mopey crap, all right? (to Fez) And you, don’t come on all needy. You gotta be aloof.   FEZ: (beat) Did you just call me a loof? Because if so, I will have to kick you in your nads.   HYDE: No, man – aloof. Distant. Zen.   FEZ: (beat) Well, that’s not what “loof” means in my language.   HYDE: Look, I don’t care what you think it means, that’s what it means here. Now, come on – let’s ride.   He shifts out of park, Fez turns on the radio, and off they go.   CUT TO:   MONTAGE, moving from evening to night. Set to “We Gotta Get You A Woman” by Todd Rundgren. Beginning on a side shot of the El Camino pulling up to a light. Hyde, Eric and Fez look out the passenger window, grinning and nodding at what they see. And what they see is, in succession:   A) A SHORT-HAIRED BLONDE with pouty lips.   BLONDE: I’m on my way to Bible study. You in?   B) AN OLDER WOMAN.   OLDER WOMAN: You with the curly hair – I think I used to date your dad. Isn’t that a turn-on?   C) A LONG-HAIRED PRISSY GIRL.   PRISSY: I don’t know... I usually only date guys who aren’t as good-looking as me. Otherwise, I’d never date.   D) AN INTENSE GIRL.   INTENSE GIRL: My boyfriend’s in jail, so I guess I could fool around. (beat) Wait... I think he just busted out...   E) A BIG-TOOTHED REDHEAD.   REDHEAD: You know, I’m workin’ the pedals here with just one real leg. Wanna guess which one it is?   F) A MOUSY BRUNETTE, too paralyzed with fear to say anything. She giggles nervously and speeds off.   END MONTAGE. It’s now dark outside. The El Camino idles in a parking space. Hyde is chill, but Eric and Fez both look disturbed.   ERIC:  Well, that was all... deeply unsettling.   FEZ: (to Hyde) How many women who do not cause nightmares do you get in this way?   HYDE: I’d say it averages out to nine chicks a month. Subtract the six who turn out psycho, the two who get too attached, and the one that ditches ya.   ERIC: (beat) That comes to zero women.   HYDE: (shrugs) Hey, I’ve still got the El Camino.   He pats the dashboard as he brings his car into park.   ERIC: I don’t know, Hyde. Does a car and nine no-gos a month really fill the void left by a certain tiny cheerleader? One shrill of voice and intolerable for the sane among us, but with a certain naïve charm that some curly-haired rebels just can’t resist?   HYDE: Does a Vista Cruiser and a bitchy attitude make up for running off the hottest redhead in Wisconsin?   He exits the car, leaving Eric to consider that. Fez leans forward to look out the still-open driver’s door and call after Hyde:   FEZ: This is not over, Johnny Cool! (to Eric) Boy, what a loof.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – NIGHT   Kitty and her catalogues have moved over to the stovetop. She stands over it with JACKIE at her side. Red sits at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich.   KITTY: Thank you for helping me figure out what to do with my new workspace, Jackie. I’m sure you’d rather be out with your boyfriend on a Friday night, but -   JACKIE: Oh, please. I needed a reason to get away tonight. I couldn’t take another second of hearing how we’ll be “hittin’ the road with his new wheels.”   KITTY: (shakes head) Oh, don’t get me started on men and cars, we will be here all night.   She laughs and opens up one of the catalogues.   KITTY (cont’d): Now, most of what I do at the church is helping plan events and fundraisers, so I just need a nice little space to set up a desk and hunker down with the paperwork.   Jackie nods agreeably. She picks up a catalogue and flips through it. At a certain page, she gasps and holds it up for Kitty to see.   JACKIE:  What about this? The Le Palais Bulles look. Pierre Cardin built his house like this on the French Riviera. Ocean view, bean bags for furniture, and the whole house is shaped like a bubble.   KITTY: (beat) Okay, um... my house is shaped like a... like a house. A bean bag is not a desk. And we don’t have an ocean view. We don’t even have a Lake Michigan view. (laughs)   Jackie considers this, turns back to the catalogue.   JACKIE: Ooh, you could model your workspace after Priscilla Presley’s home. She’s got this giant gold chess set that shows off that she’s rich, but she’s also got those crochet patterns old ladies like. That’d be perfect for you, Mrs. Forman!   She beams and bobs on her feet. Kitty gives her a fixed smile, glances around her to Red. He grins back.   RED: How’s doing it yourself working out?   He takes a big bite of her sandwich as Jackie calls Kitty’s attention to another design.   BUMPER   EXT. HUB PARKING LOT - NIGHT   The Hand 2 Van contest goes on. A few have dropped out, but Bob, Kelso, and Daniel remain.   Donna crosses to Bob and passes a tin and a pick to his free hand.   DONNA: Here, Dad. Some mints and your Afro pick.   BOB: Oh, thank God, Donna. My hair was starting to look silly.   Donna smiles, gives Kelso a friendly jab on the shoulder, and heads back to the booth. Daniel follows her with his eyes the whole way.   DANIEL: Hey, check out the redhead.   BOB: That redhead is my baby girl, Donna. I’m her dad.   DANIEL: I want Donna to call me “daddy.”   Kelso’s jaw drops as Bob trembles with rage. Finally, he can’t take it anymore – he takes his hand off the van and advances on Daniel.   BOB: That’s it!   Max hurries over from the table.   MAX: Ah, Bob! You took your hand off the van – you lose!   Max shakes his head and walks away. Bob glares at Daniel.   BOB: This isn’t over.   DANIEL: It is for you. Now, get out of here.   He nods his head toward the street. Bob stares him down for a moment, then slinks off to Max’s table.   Daniel slides along the van to get right up in a grinning Kelso’s face.   DANIEL (cont’d): And so begins the battle of wits.   KELSO: Oh, man. I’ve never been good at wits.   DANIEL: (flat) Really?   BUMPER   MUSIC NOTE: “Rockaway Beach by the Ramones.   INT. HUB - NIGHT   Between it being Friday night and the giveaway going on outside, the Hub is happening – lots of teens, and lots of them girls. “Rockaway Beach” plays on the jukebox. Donna and Melissa chat near the window, and a tall, stout, badly-dressed and poorly groomed girl with glasses struts the floor – at last, we meet BIG RHONDA.   Hyde, Eric, and Fez enter. Donna crosses to them.   DONNA: Hey, guys. What’s going on?   HYDE: Quick pit stop.   DONNA: Cool. There’s a keg behind the radio booth and the guy watching it isn’t checking I.D.s.   The boys all nod and mosey on into the Hub. Hyde and Eric stop to talk to a DARK-HAIRED GIRL and her friends, but Fez’s eye lands on Big Rhonda, near the pinball machine. He crosses over to her.   FEZ: So, you are the notorious Big Rhonda?   RHONDA: Yep. That’s my name. You must be that little foreign cocoa puff.   Fez nods, looks Rhonda over. She gives him a friendly slug on the shoulder.   RHONDA (cont’d): Hey, wanna join me in hittin’ that keg outside? First one to down five cups buys me a hot dog.   Fez raises his eyebrows, intrigued. He allows Rhonda to lead him outside.   Near the bathroom door, Hyde and Eric chat up the dark-haired girl, who leans against the wall.   DARK-HAIRED GIRL: It’s not like head cheerleader’s always the most talented, but in my case, it’s true.   Neither of the boys has an answer to that. The girl leaves them to re-join her friends.   ERIC: (to Hyde) God, would you look at her? Small, dark, and shallow. Hey, just your type, Hyde.   HYDE: Looks like your type’s being picked up.   He points over Eric’s shoulder. Eric looks, sees Donna chatting with a good-looking guy.   Deflated, Eric sighs, wanders over to a round table and leans against it. He doesn’t even notice the cute girl, KATIE, sitting there. She looks up at him and smiles.   KATIE: Hey.   Eric doesn’t respond.   KATIE (cont’d): So... that Hand 2 Van contest, huh?   ERIC: Yuh-huh.   KATIE: And the words kind of sound alike, so that’s always fun.   ERIC: Look – no offense, but I’m really not in the mood for talking. I just broke up with my girlfriend, so…   KATIE: Aww... you poor thing.   She puts a hand on his arm.   KATIE (cont’d): You know, you have these sad lips that are just so hot.   ERIC: (beat) Really?   He pulls up a chair and sits across from Katie.   FADE TO BLACK   COMMERCIAL   BUMPER   INT. HUB – NIGHT   Picking up right where we left off. “Come On, Come On” by Cheap Trick now plays on the jukebox. Hyde chats with Melissa near the counter. Eric is still at the table with Katie. Fez and Rhonda have come back in from the keg and stand near the pinball machine.   RHONDA: This summer, I’m going to visit my aunt in Mississippi.   FEZ: Oh, you’re going away? That is sad.   RHONDA: Hey, you should come with me, chocolate milk!   She slaps him on the chest and downs what’s left of the beer in her cup.   At their table, Katie pulls her seat in closer to Eric, so that they’re right next to each other.   KATIE: When I looked up and saw you, I saw a guy who was wounded. The guy who sits in the dark, waiting for the light to find him again.   At that moment, Donna comes in from the contest. She sees Eric and Katie, and Eric sees her.   ERIC: (to Katie) If only I could find this light you speak of, then maybe – just maybe – my pain might go away.   KATIE: Would it help if I held you?   ERIC: I doubt it. (beat) But let’s try, Katie.   They hug.   ERIC (cont’d): Yeah, lower – yeah.   Donna remains by the door, fuming.   Hyde takes a sip from his red cup and looks Melissa over.   HYDE: So, what do you do for fun?   MELISSA: We’re in Wisconsin. So, nothing.   HYDE: So you wouldn’t want to do something some time?   MELISSA: Sorry. I did something last night, and I already made plans for some time.   She moves around him, brushing his shoulder with hers as she walks, and heads outside.   Fez and Rhonda have taken over an empty table. Fez stands on it and raises his red beer cup high. He’s not exactly steady on his feet.   FEZ: A toast: to all my good friends. I will miss you when I blow out of this burg with the beautiful Big Rhonda.   He actually picks up some applause.   FEZ (cont’d): Now, it’s off to Mississiphylis!   He downs the rest of his beer. He slips off the table and is caught bridal-style by Rhonda.   CUT TO:   EXT. HUB PARKING LOT – NIGHT   On goes the contest. Kelso and Daniel are all that’s left. Bob comes around the van with a coffee cup, hands it to Kelso.   BOB: Here, Kelso. Thought you might need some coffee to keep you going.   He exits, shooting Daniel a dirty look as he does so. Kelso quickly downs his coffee.   DANIEL: (to Kelso) Hey, you know what would be fun? Seeing which one of us could drink the most coffee, huh?   Kelso laughs and nods.   DANIEL (cont’d): Oh, no. You’ll just lose.   KELSO: No, I would not. I could so beat you!   DANIEL: Well, I doubt that.   KELSO: Oh, you’re goin’ down!   TIME LAPSE   Moments later. Kelso drains a cup of coffee and throws it down in triumph.   KELSO: That’s my six to your one!   DANIEL: Yeah, you really whipped me. Kelso, you ever been to Niagara Falls?   KELSO: Uh-uh.   DANIEL: Don’t you like the soothing sound of water?   KELSO: Yeah, I guess.   DANIEL: You ever sat beside a babbling brook, listening to the beautiful, steady stream of water?   KELSO: Well, I – okay, I don’t know if you realize this, but all this talk about water’s really making me have to go pee.   DANIEL: Oh, yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. Yeah, I can see that “urine” a lot of pain.   KELSO: Yeah, well, you better shut up, ‘cause you’re gonna have to go too.   DANIEL: That’s where you’re wrong: I am going.   He pulls up his pant leg, revealing a thermos strapped to his ankle with a tube stretching up into his pants.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - NIGHT   The decorating continues, and not well. Red is still at the kitchen table, now reading a newspaper. Kitty leans on the stovetop, trying to keep calm. Jackie is the only one still upbeat as she keeps flipping through catalogues.   JACKIE: Ooh, what about this one, Mrs. Forman? (shows Kitty) Barbara Streisand has a big desk next to the antique armchair. And just look at that chandelier.   KITTY: (beat) A chandelier? What am I going to do with a chandelier? There are two rooms in this house that I could use as a workspace, and neither one is even tall enough for a chandelier!   JACKIE: Okay, I’m sensing you’re not in love with the chandelier. (flips through catalogue) Oh, but Lee Raziwill has this gorgeous -   Kitty takes the catalogue from Jackie and shuts it.   KITTY: Okay, okay – I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll just bring in a contractor to set up my workspace.   RED: And there it is.   He folds up his newspaper and checks his watch.   RED (cont’d): And hey, it didn’t even take as long as I thought.   He grins at a pouting Kitty, stands, and exits into the living room.   KITTY: Oh, well. Thank you anyway, Jackie, for all the help you were... you were trying to give. Tell you what – the night’s still young. Why don’t you go see if you can catch up with your boyfriend?   JACKIE:  Yeah, I should probably check on Michael, see how that radio giveaway’s going.   KITTY: (beat) Michael? Honey, you mean Steven.   JACKIE: No, I mean Michael.   KITTY: But I thought you were going to check on your boyfriend.   JACKIE: Yeah... Michael is my boyfriend. We got back together weeks ago. Steven’s the one who made sure we made things up.   Kitty jaw goes slack as she stares at Jackie.   KITTY: You’re back together with Michael? All the time you kids spend in my house, and no one tells me anything!   She shakes her head and throws up her hands.   CUT TO:   INT. HUB - NIGHT   The jukebox now plays “Sweet Talkin’ Woman” by the Electric Light Orchestra. While Eric and Katie continue to chat (and Donna continues to fume), Hyde leads Fez by the shoulder toward the door, just of out earshot of Rhonda, who is scarfing down hot dogs at a table near the pinball.   FEZ: I know I just met her, Hyde, but I love her. She is sturdy. I want to climb her.   HYDE: Man, you are desperate to give it away.   FEZ: Yes. Yes I am.   HYDE: Okay, Fez, time for a little advice. First: if a chick outweighs you by thirty pounds, you’re in for trouble.   FEZ: Oh, I’ll put on weight. I’ll bridge the gap.   HYDE: And that brings me to my second point: when used separately, chicks and booze are a lot of fun. But mix ‘em up, and you end spending your summer ass-deep in a swamp down south in Dixie.   Fez looks down in thought as Hyde pats him on the back.   Eric and Katie have moved into the booth seat. Eric briefly glances at Donna as Katie rubs his back.   ERIC: (to Katie) If you really think that putting my head on your lap will make me feel better... I mean, I guess I should try.   He adjusts himself so that he can lie down in the booth seat with his head in Katie’s lap.   DONNA: All right, that’s it. (to Katie) Excuse me? Hi. I have some information -   Eric shoots upright.   ERIC: (to Katie) No, don’t listen to what she’s... I’m... she’s the one who hurt me!   DONNA: Uh-huh. Yeah. He dumped me.   KATIE: (gasps) You dumped her?   ERIC: Well, I had to. She wouldn’t... she wouldn’t take my ring.   KATIE: (to Donna) You wouldn’t take his ring?   DONNA: This is none of your business! (to Eric) And you are a sad little man.   Katie looks at Eric with much less sympathy, and he squirms uncomfortably in his seat.   CUT TO:   EXT. HUB PARKING LOT - NIGHT   A short time later. The contest is still ongoing between Kelso and Daniel. Max and Bob still man the table, while Donna and Melissa watch from the booth. But there’s a new presence in the lot: Jackie is at Kelso’s side, talking.   JACKIE: Michael, this is so much nicer than your old van. I mean, this pea-soup green is – ugh – but with a little paint job -   KELSO: You mean, like a mural, or like the Mystery Machine? Either way, I’m there!   JACKIE: (nods) Yeah, you could have an eagle, soaring majestically over the clouds, or a wild stallion charging through the desert.   KELSO: I bet ya Fez would like that one! But it might give him some ideas...   He and Jackie both wince at what kind of “ideas” he’s talking about.   KELSO (cont’d): Oh, what about one of those wizards surrounded by fire?   Daniel leans his head against the van. The conversation’s getting to him.   JACKIE: No, wait Michael, I’ve got it. The mural should be about – me!   DANIEL: Oh, my God.   KELSO: (to Jackie) Yeah, I could totally see you airbrushed on the side of the new Shaggin’ Wagon! Would you wanna be in your black dress or your new bikini?   JACKIE: Why are those my only choices? I have so many mural-worthy outfits to choose from.   KELSO: I guess that’s true. Like your lavender top with the dark gold scarf for winter.   JACKIE: Or my bottleneck paired with my red beret.   KELSO: Or your cheerleading uniform.   JACKIE: Or my -   DANIEL: Oh, my God!   He turns to face them.   DANIEL (cont’d): I can’t take it anymore! (mocking) “What should we paint the van? Shouldn’t it be me? What should I wear?”   He lets go of the van with both hands to grab Jackie and cover her mouth.   DANIEL (cont’d): SHUT UP!   But that’s Max’s cue. With a portable transmitter and microphone on him, he jumps up and crosses to the van.   MAX: And we finally have a winner!   Daniel, in shock, releases Jackie, while Kelso hops up and down, still not letting go of the van. Donna and Melissa cross to Bob, and they all applaud.   KELSO: I did it! Oh, my God, I won! (to Daniel) Who’s the best? I’m the best! Loser!   DANIEL: I’m not a loser, okay? I win everything. I don’t lose, I win! Because I’m a winner!   He slowly slinks away, calling back as he exits:   DANIEL (cont’d): I’m a winner!   With him gone, Max adjusts the transmitter and crosses to Kelso and Jackie.   MAX: So, Michael Kelso, tell Wisconsin how it feels to be WFPP’s new Hand 2 Van winner.   He holds out the microphone for Kelso, who leans in.   KELSO: Well, I guess I have to say it like this, Max: if this van’s a-rockin’, we’re in there doing it.   JACKIE: Michael!   KELSO: Oh, I’m sorry. I’m doing it with Jackie Burkhart!   Max, Bob, Donna, and Melissa all shake their heads as Jackie slaps Kelso in the chest.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – NIGHT   A short time later. Kitty is still up, back at the kitchen table with her catalogues. A portable radio, shut off, is on the table too.   Eric and Hyde enter through the patio door.   KITTY: Hello, boys.   Eric keeps walking, all the way to the basement, but Hyde stops at the kitchen table.   HYDE: Hey, Mrs. Forman. What are you doing up so late?   KITTY: Oh, just getting a few things together to show the contractor. (taps the catalogue page) You know, I do like this wallpaper Lee Radziwill used here. Guess Jackie had the right idea after all. (laughs)   HYDE: You had Jackie over?   KITTY: Uh-huh.   HYDE: (looks left and right) She still around?   KITTY: No, she went to go check on Michael. (taps radio) He just won the van giveaway. They cut the broadcast when Jackie started yelling at him for... well, for saying what they’d be doing in the van.   HYDE: Huh.   He leans on the back of a chair as he looks off into space. Kitty looks up at him in sympathy, pats his hand.   KITTY: That was a very selfless thing you did, getting them back together. I can only imagine how hard that was for you.   Hyde stirs; he realizes his guard’s down.   KITTY (cont’d): It didn’t really sink in until now, did it?   HYDE: What? No! Come on, man, that’s – pfft! Like I care.   He shrugs, jabs at the air. Kitty sees through the display. She stands, brings Hyde’s head down for a kiss on the cheek, and pats him on the shoulder before exiting into the living room.   Once she’s gone, Hyde takes his sunglasses off. He runs a hand down his face and stares off again.   Eric comes running back in from the basement.   ERIC: Oh, YES! Burn, baby, burn!   He points and snickers as Hyde scowls.   FADE TO BLACK   CREDITS   INT. HUB – NIGHT   The crowd has finally thinned out. It’s now just Rhonda, Fez, and Donna at a round table.   FEZ: (to Rhonda) Rhonda, I cannot go to Mississippi.   RHONDA: (tearing up) So, you’re not coming?   FEZ: I’m sorry. But maybe we can go to the movies sometime.   RHONDA: And make out in the theater? Yeah! Call me.   She kisses Fez on the cheek and struts out the door.   DONNA: (to Fez) Good God, sober up, man.   FEZ: Oh, screw it, Donna. Fez likes them big, Fez likes them small, Fez likes them all.   Donna laughs and claps him on the arm.   END.

[ghostofviperwrites]

Cat and Mouse

Requested by @narwhalneglect

Pairing:  Seiya Sanada/FC

Category:   Suggestive

Warnings:  Language  

17.          “Drive the women folk wild, shoot ‘em all down with a flash of your pretty smile.”  Just Like Jesse James – Cher

Seiya Sanada was not in the mood for this.  He was grumpy, forced to attend this low rent Ring of Honor company party held in this god awful bar.   Sanada glared over at his fellow LIJ member Hiromu Takahashi who seemed to be enjoying himself.  Of course he would, Hiromu enjoyed everything in life and fit in no matter what the situation.   The two of them were together with Ring of Honor as part of the talent share program with New Japan, participating in the Chicago leg of the tour.   With all the fine establishments in the city of Chicago you would have thought they would have found somewhere a little more upper class he sniffed disdainfully.  Sanada was a bit of a snob, enjoying the finer things in life and he would freely admit it.

On his good days Sanada would tolerate it.  Put on a pleasant smile and make the most of his situation.   Today was not one of those days.  He was tired and horny and mostly just wanted to punch that asshole Cody Rhodes square in the face.   That fucking idiot was walking around talking shit about his victory over Sanada a few months ago.  Like that shit wasn’t predetermined.  He was acting as if he could legit beat Sanada in a fight.  He fucking wished.   To make this whole situation worse he hadn’t found anyone to fuck. Oh they had come on to him left and right.  But he was stuck settling for the food and drink in this place, he wasn’t settling when it came to his pussy.  

You think you’re so bad, drive the women folk wild

Shoot ‘em all down with the flash of your pretty smile

Honey but you met your match tonight

Oh, that’s right

There was one possibility.  He had seen you watching him.  Of course he had.  Sanada always knew when women were watching him.   Always on the lookout for a better opportunity.   You kept to the outskirts of the room, serving h’ordeuvres in your assigned area.  He had seen your calculating expression in his direction, seen the flash of lust on your face before it was masked with disinterest.  Seeing nothing better on the horizon Sanada decided to play your game. He knew you thought you were the cat tonight, stalking your prey.  Little did you know you had just become the mouse.

As you served the various wrestlers in your area, your gaze kept flickering back to the handsome Japanese man sitting at the bar.  You could tell he was a heartbreaker, but then again, so were you.   Woman after woman had approached him only to be dismissed with a smile reeking of disdain.   You wanted him.  Wanted to take him and use him and then throw him down, give him a taste of his own medicine.   Have him panting after you like a puppy.  

You think you’ll knock me off my feet ‘Til I’m flat on the floor 'Til my heart is cryin’ Indian and I’m begin’ for more So come on baby Come on baby Come on baby show me what that loaded gun is for

As the night wore on you wondered if you were going to get your chance with him. Your assigned area was nowhere near the area he was steadfastly staying in.   You briefly wondered if he was intentionally avoiding you.  Since he had flashed you a brief smile he had barely paid you any mind.  You quickly pushed that thought aside.  He would come to you eventually.  They always did.  

Another hour passed and you were rethinking your strategy.  He didn’t seem to have any inclination in approaching you, keeping his seat near the bar as he sipped from a glass of wine, occasionally talking with the other man he had arrived with.   Finally you realized you were going to have to get closer to him. You sweet-talked your manager into switching your area, giving you bar duty and putting you directly in contact with your target.   It was perfect seeing as there were only a couple of people sitting there, it would give you plenty of time to work your magic.  

“Hi, I’m Y/N.  I’m taking over the bar.”  You introduced yourself after taking care of the other patrons.  “Can I get you anything at the moment?”  

You shivered when he turned his full attention on you, his eyes slowly perusing your body, lingering on your breasts before looking at your face.  He was even more attractive in person and for a moment you wondered if you had bitten off more than you could chew.  

“Seiya Sanada.  Keep my glass filled and we won’t a have a problem.”  He said dismissively before turning his back on you, overlooking the room as he leaned back against the bar rail.   You stood dumbly for a moment before grabbing his designated drink and filling the glass and turning around to clean up the back area to give you a moment to regroup.   You weren’t used to being so easily dismissed.  It was usually the men who came flocking to you and now you were thrown for a loop.  

If you can give it

I can take it

Cause if this heart is gonna break

It’s gonna take a lot to break it

Your frustrations mounted as your continued efforts at flirting and keeping his attention proved futile.  You didn’t like this one bit.  Of course Sanada loved it.  You were just like a fly caught in the spider web, entangling yourself further with your struggles without any effort on his part.  You were playing his game perfectly.   By the time he finally graced you with his full attention you would be desperate for him.   He would give you just enough to keep you coming back for more.  

You stood at the opposite end of the bar where you could subtly watch him without making it seem like you were. You were so wound up and your mind racing a mile a minute trying to figure out how to keep the handsome man’s attention solely on you.   His hooded looks and thinly veiled words had you in quite a state. Wiping down the glass in your hand you watched as the friend at his side glanced in your direction with a deliciously filthy look.   You were like a deer in the headlights as he looked you over before leaning down to whisper something in the other man’s ear.  When Sanada crooked his finger and beckoned you over you found yourself blindly obeying, hurrying to fill his glass and smiling flirtatiously, leaning onto the bar to push your cleavage up, eyes darting between himself and his friend as they exchanged loaded glances.  

Your breath caught as Sanada’s tongue darted out, the tip licking his full lips as you watched with rapt attention, imagining that tongue tracing along your body, a small squeak escaping you at the thought.   You could feel your face heat up in embarrassment as he chuckled.  

“You’re not going to try to be one of those coy women who pretend they don’t want me are you?”  Sanada asked the tip of his finger reaching out to trace over the skin of your forearm leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

A few hours ago you would have had a much different response, but he had worked you like a charm and you were practically vibrating with need.  You couldn’t quite pinpoint how he had done it, but he had worked you into quite a state over the past few hours and you were helpless to deny him.  Instead you shook your head in agreement with his statement.

“You want me to fuck you, yes?”  Sanada asked his hand continuing that stroking on your arm that was doing things to you.  You had never considered your forearm an erogenous zone, but damn if it didn’t feel like it was sending volts of desire straight to your pussy.  

“Yes,” You responded in a breathy whisper, trying to pretend his friend wasn’t standing there, watching your whole interaction.  You whimpered when he withdrew his touch leaning back into his barstool as he ran his coolly dispassionate gaze over you once again.  

“Well, I haven’t decided if you’re worth my time yet.”  He said bluntly smirking as your face fell at his blatant insult.   You wanted to throw his drink in his damn smug face, but instead you bit your lip trying to stop it from trembling in disappointment.

“This is Hiromu.”  Sanada said drawing your attention of his friend who gave you another wicked smile as you looked over at him.  “Hiromu has gallantly offered to take you for a test drive.  See if you meet my standards.”  Sanada watched your reaction carefully, waiting for you to have some pride and tell both of them to fuck off.  Instead he read the resignation in your eyes and knew you were going to do whatever he asked you to, just like all the others.  Shame, he hoped sometimes someone would get the balls to challenge him. “Why don’t you take him in the back and suck him off.  If he says you’re any good, I’ll consider letting you see my dick.”  

“C’mon sweetheart I’ve been thinking about your lips around me all night.”  Hiromu said walking confidently towards the back as you trailed back at him, casting a glance over your shoulder at Sanada who had long since turned his back on you, his attention back on the room’s inhabitants. Unless Hiromu came back with some absolutely glowing story of your fellating skills Sanada had lost interest in you.   You had played the game and lost.  The cat caught the mouse and was now done toying with it.  

Sanada rose to his feet, long strides carrying him across to the bar to one of the women who had come up to him earlier in the evening.  He had shot her down then, but he was several glasses of wine in now so she suddenly looked more appealing.   Slinging his arm around her shoulder he whispered in her ear, making her giggle and happily follow him out of the venue and into the night.  

[melodramaticfanatic-blog]

Lucky in Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: It’s safe to assume that all my stories are going to have at least a little NSFW, 18+ and language. Just how I write.

Summary: Y/N became friends with Chris Evans shortly before Captain America fame made him a superstar. Now they’ve been through a lot together but Chris has always wanted more A/N: For @troublermalik. Chris Evans one shot with fluff and some NSFW/smut. This got long (WAY TOO LONG for a one shot probably) because I kept working on it and then putting it on hold and then today hormones made me their bitch so I went in on it HARD (while crying over the soundtrack from The Greatest Showman, naturally.) so sorry or whatever. Oh, and I hate this title!! I tried like 3 and didn’t like any of them

Word count: 8575 roughly.

Gif not mine, credit to owner

Y/N breaking her tooth was the best thing that had ever happened to Chris Evans. It may have been painful for her and required an emergency visit to a dentist, but if she hadn’t slipped while bowling and managed to fall at exactly the wrong angle, they may never have met. 

It had happened 2 years ago. Y/N had been on a blind date, a set up through one of her friends, and the man took her to a cosmic bowling alley. The lanes were dark, disco balls and black lights flashing against neon paint as classic rock pumped out of the speakers. Although the idea for the evening was great and Y/N wanted to enjoy herself, the man who was accompanying her was the worst kind of date. He was overly competitive about the score, utterly uninterested in talking to her (not that he could have even if he wanted to with the volume of the music), and far too interested in her various body parts. 

All in all, when the laces of the rental shoes untied (something Y/N didn’t notice due to the dim lighting) and caused her to stumble onto the slippery wax lanes where she promptly fell on her face, it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. At least that was her immediate thought before she realized that she had chipped her tooth and the broken shard had injured her lip leaving her with a bloody mouth and damaged smile. She had bid a quick farewell to her date, promising to reschedule without any intention of actually following through on it, and left the lanes while searching google for the closest dentist’s office. That dentist just happened to be Dr. Robert Evans, who’s son Chris was lucky enough to be in the office visiting when Y/N arrived as he had just gotten home from filming his upcoming Marvel debut, “Captain America: The First Avenger”. Despite her bloody mouth and eventual slurred speech due to novocain, Chris and Y/N had hit it off immediately. 

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“You have no idea who you’re messing with.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at Chris and tried her best to look intimidating despite the fact that the man was several inches taller than her with the physique of a superhero...literally. 

“Bring it on Y/N,” Chris taunted back. 

“I’m warning you...”

“If you’re so confident, why not make this interesting?” he retorted with his characteristic easy charm. Despite his light tone there was an undercurrent of competitiveness to his words. Chris played to win at everything in life.

Y/N sized the man up and arched an eyebrow. “Name your terms.”

“If your skills are what you say they are-”

“They are,” she interjected.

“Well then, I’ll owe you a six pack of beer to drink while I wash your car. If, by some freak accident, I prove to be more talented in this particular arena than you are though...” Chris smirked at her for a moment as he thought about what he’d claim as a prize. Then his entire face lit up with mischievous delight. “You’ll be accompanying me to the upcoming Avengers red carpet premier.”

Y/N pursed her lips as she thought about the stipulations. She felt very confident in herself but if something did go wrong...she didn’t like the idea of going to a premier. She had been photographed several times while hanging out with Chris and her picture had even gotten into the tabloids. It was not the most pleasant experience in the world. Many of his fans knew about her; she was his best friend after all so he had mentioned her in interviews a few times. Most fans were very nice in regard to her relationship with Chris, they knew she dated other men and knew that Chris dated other women so they did not see her as a threat. Every time her picture appeared in a tabloid next to the Captain however, a new outcry would rise from the internet and she would be hit with waves of negative comments and anonymous hatred from obsessed fan girls. Going to a premier where there would be rows upon rows of journalists and photographers seemed like pushing her luck. 

“Scared Y/N?” Chris had his most dangerous smirk firmly in place, one side of his mouth lifted and his brow quirked. It was obvious to Y/N that he was teetering on the edge of laughter, ready to break out any second in the full body shaking peals that were never far from the surface. 

“Of you?” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. “Never. I just feel bad that all the paparazzi are gonna be able to snap pictures of you washing my car. Maybe they’ll publish articles speculating about if you’re broke and working for me to make ends meet!”

His smirk just got wider. “Just remember, I like how you look in silver.”

“Thanks but I won’t need to know that. Now stand back in awe.”

Y/N pushed her hand against Chris’s chest lightly and the man took a step back chuckling, more likely to be kind than because the shove had any effect on him. She positioned her feet carefully, shoulder width apart and narrowed her eyes with focus. Her fingers tightened around the grip of the club in her hand and she drew her arms back slowly before swinging them out again in a gentle arc, knocking the bottom of the metal putter against the brightly colored ball on the ground. It connected with a pleasing knock and spun forward along the artificial grass.

“Go baby, go...” Y/N muttered under her breath as she tracked the ball’s progress. “Curve for me...!”

As though the ball could hear what she was asking of it, it swerved and began to ride along the ridge of a hill.

“Yes...yes...YES!” The ball found the perfect course trajectory and dropped into a small cup next to the large flag that marked the hole. “Hole in one! Fear my mini golf genius, Evans!”

Y/N jumped into the air and came down to rest on one knee, celebrating as if she were Tiger Woods and had just won the PGA cup. Chris couldn’t resist shaking with laughter at the display, his right hand coming up to grab his left pectoral as it always did when he laughed uncontrollably. 

“We’ve got a long course to play here, Y/N. Don’t get cocky on me now.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Y/N retorted with a serious air before her face turned wicked. “Being cocky is your job.”

Chris shook his head and positioned himself at the line between artificial grass and sidewalk. All around him, children and families were delighting in the amusements of the mini golf course: chasing balls that had escaped into water hazards, taking pictures with the fake dinosaurs that lined the Jurassic themed diversion, laughing and lamenting their poor luck as they came out of a hole that was only par 2 with more than 5 strokes. 

He and Y/N often ended up in strange contests like this as they were both competitive and had a fondness for sports...or at least sport like activities. They had done everything from beach volleyball to ultimate frisbee, usually with a small wager attached to the win. Most nights, Chris wanted to win because he liked to win. Tonight however, he wanted to win so that he could have Y/N on his arm at the upcoming premier. He had just broken up again with his on-again / off-again girlfriend and knew that showing up at the premier alone would only result in him being bored out of his mind most of the night. Y/N would absolutely prevent that; she was always fun to be around. 

“You going to shoot your shot Evans or have I intimidated you into quitting already?”

“Oh please, my skills are hotter than the fire coming from that very fake volcano.”

Y/N cocked her hip out slightly and braced her hand against it, striking the international pose of female confidence as her face resolved into an expression of exasperated incredulity. Chris tried not to focus on her, tempting as it was to ignore the game and spend his time watching Y/N and laughing in the unrestrained way she always caused. Instead, he trained his eyes on the blue ball he had picked out (a choice that Y/N had made some very uncouth remarks over) and concentrated on hitting it with enough force to find the cup but not the excessive amount that would cause it to skip right over the hole. With an apparent lack of effort, Chris managed to sink his shot in one as well. 

“Oooooh,” he chuckled and shook his head. “What’s Danny gonna say when you tell him you can’t go out for date night because you’ll be on my arm?”

“I don’t think he’ll be too upset,” Y/N deadpanned back. “After all, I’m sure he’ll be out with his new girlfriend that night.”

“You guys broke up?”

“Yeah, earlier this week.” Y/N ran a hand through her hair, mussing it up prettily as she led the way to the next patch of green. “He was too needy, ya know? Everything was always about him. Like, I’d get home from working a 10 hour shift and he’d be there asking me why I hadn’t made him dinner.” She shook her head in a frustrated way. “Who looks at me and thinks Stepford Wife?”

It’s definitely not the first thought I have, Chris mused silently. My first thought has always been...no, never mind. Better not to acknowledge that thought. 

“Wow, bad time of year for romance all around, I guess.”

Y/N looked at him in confusion, one eyebrow arched delicately. 

“Jenny and I broke up again too,” he clarified. 

“Dude, you know I love Jenny,” Y/N began, her shoulders slumping as she looked at her friend, “but I seriously do not understand how you do it. I get whiplash just watching your relationship from the outside. How do you even keep track of if you’re together or not?”

“Maybe that’s been the problem all along, Y/N. I was thinking we were together when she was thinking we weren’t...we’re just on the wrong schedule! You’ve solved it, Dr. Phil!”

“Don’t you sass me, Evans,” she said as she reached out to smack his large bicep playfully. “I’m not afraid to call your mother.”

“Ok, ok, I’m just teasing. Nah, Jenny is great...and when it works, it’s great. But...” he trailed off with a shrug. 

“But how often does it work? Like a rough percentage?”

“Maybe...10% of the time?”

Y/N looked back at him with her eyebrows raised, her face expectant as he thought over what he had just said. 

“Yeah, I get you. If it’s only working 10% of the time, the other 90% sucks.” 

She nodded at him, a hint of sadness in her face. “You deserve better than 90% suckage Chris.”

Chris knew that Y/N was serious whenever she called him by his first name. Most of the time she referred to him simply as Evans or by some new mocking nickname she had crowned him with. Despite their teasing banter, the two were very close and cared for each other deeply. He knew that she wanted to see him happy just as much as he wanted that for her. 

“I’m tired of the whole relationship thing at the moment,” Y/N continued. “It never seems like the people involved are on the same page. It’s never just relaxed and easy. Like this! The way that we are together.” Y/N reached out and laid her hand against Chris’s chest, stopping their progress along the course so that she could look him in the eyes. “Everything is always good between us. We can talk about anything, we can always have fun, we’re tend to agree on the big stuff and be on the same wavelength...why can’t real relationships work like this?”

Chris gave an easy shrug and shook his head, watching as Y/N turned to move on to the next hole. Real relationships. We could have a real relationship, he thought, we could have a great relationship, even better than what you just described. If only you felt the same.

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“HA! Hahahahahahaha,” Chris had burst into the kind of laughter that doubled him over in exaltation. It ripped out of his belly and shook every muscle in his well toned body as he gripped his pectoral with one hand, his other hand holding Y/N’s shoulder as an anchor. 

“Not fair! If I hadn’t messed up the 12th hole so badly, I could have won!”

Chris could only shake his head as he laughed. He hadn’t just beaten Y/N, he had destroyed her. 

“Seriously, I think there was like, water on that hole or something. There is no WAY it should have taken me over 8 strokes to make a par 2 hole. STOP LAUGHING YOU BIG JERK!” She whined in a voice of fake outrage. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Chris sighed as he finally caught his breath. “You’re my favorite thing in the whole world.”

“Ha! I’ll believe I rank in the top 10, Evans, but I’m not claiming the top spot with your nieces and nephews around. Hell, I’m pretty sure even Dodger comes ahead of me on that list,” she scoffed. “Which is fair as he is such a great dog.”

He just smiled back at her indulgently, trying not to let on how wrong she was. “Whatever you say babe. Now, about what you’ll be wearing to the premier-”

“UUGGGHH!!”

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“UUUGGGHH!!! GRRRR!!! ARRRGGGH!!!”

“You can moan all you want, girlfriend. You made the bet, you have to deal with the consequences.” Y/N’s roommate, Angie, said in her thick New York City accent as she stood outside the bedroom. Years of being away from the city had done nothing to change how she spoke. 

Y/N felt like she had been groaning and moaning ever since she had lost to Chris that night at the golf course. She would never go back on her word so she had gone out and gotten a great gown, silver as requested, and prepared for tonight with a pedicure, manicure and professionally done make up and hair, but none of it had done much to calm her nerves. As happy and relaxed as she always was with her best friend, the spotlight was not her comfort zone. She didn’t want to think about how the next few hours would be spent in front of hundreds of people and in the company of movie stars. Sure, Chris was a movie star...but he was also just Chris. Silly, puppy-dog, can’t stop laughing, dork, sweetest human being alive Chris. Hanging out with him was like snuggling in a giant sweater. He was all fluff and comfort. Tonight was going to be a whole different ball game. 

“Seriously Ange...I’m not saying that I won’t go, but seriously...what am I doing?!”

“I can’t believe you’re whining about this, Y/N,” Angie replied with a roll of her eyes. “You’re going to the premier of a huge Hollywood movie where you’ll be next to some of the hottest men in the known universe. Oh yeah, and you’ll be there as the date of one of those absolute hotties. What is there to complain about?”

“Don’t call Chris a hottie...it’s weird.”

“He is a hottie. I can’t change the facts, girl. The fact that you are somehow magically blind to his intense good looks doesn’t mean I am.”

Y/N looked at her roommate and frowned. She wasn’t immune to Chris’s good looks; you’d have to be 10 kinds of stupid not to notice that the man was handsome. It was more that she chose not to think about him that way. Keeping him solidly locked in her mind under the label of “Friend” made everything much simpler. 

“If you’re going to stand there and mock me, the least you could do is tell me how I look?”

Y/N gave a small spin for her roommate. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant style that she would never be able to replicate again, which complemented her sleek gown nicely. The structured bodice hugged her beautifully and pushed her chest up to put a decent amount of cleavage on display. Its straps lay off the shoulders, a delicate drape of fabric brushing against her upper arm, and the fabric continued in long swaths down the back of the gown, creating a train-like effect. The skirt itself had a small train, really just a puddle of fabric attached to the slim tube that was fitted to her legs. The whole gown fit like a dream, she hadn’t even needed alterations, which was the main reason she had picked this one. 

“You look amazing. You’ll fit right in. In fact, I’ll be surprised if you don’t come home with a date...if you get your choice of the men, go for Tom Hiddleston. I’ve seen him dance; I think you could make good use of the way those hips move.”

“Angie!” Y/N cried out in shock just as there was a knock on the door. 

“What? I’m human, girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N responded, brushing by her roommate. “You’re something alright.”

Quickly checking her hair in a mirror and smoothing her hands over the front of the dress, Y/N opened up the door. Chris was standing in the hallway and before she could put up her guard against it, Y/N was struck with exactly how amazing he looked. His dark hair had been gelled lightly and slicked into a dapper style that fit his bone structure perfectly. His beard was trimmed and neat and before Y/N could reign the thought in, she found herself wondering if it would tickle to be kissed by him with that beard. Damn Angie, putting thoughts into her head just before Chris arrived. The best part though was his suit. It was a bright cobalt blue that accentuated his eyes until they became hypnotic. The bright white of his shirt made a gorgeous contrast to the bright blue fabric and the black that lined the lapel of the jacket. 

“Well damn,” Chris said with a frown as his shoulders dipped.

“What? What’s wrong?” Y/N looked down at herself nervously. “Is the dress not good? Do I look terrible?”

“Not at all. It’s just that..” he trailed off with a shake of his head and looked down while she waited anxiously. “Well, I tried so hard and thought I looked pretty good tonight but now it’s not going to matter at all because no one is going to be able to look away from how beautiful you are, babe!”

“Don’t do that, Evans!” Y/N reached out and punched his shoulder as he looked up at her from under his lashes with a wicked smile.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he said with a chuckle. “Seriously though, Y/N. You look more incredibly beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.”

“You can keep the compliments coming, I’m not forgiving you that quickly.”

“Since I have your permission, I think I’ll just keep complimenting you all night.”

“When are you just going to ask her out, Chris?” Angie called from inside the apartment. “I’m sick of you two doing this ‘We’re just really good friends and there’s no sexual tension between us’ thing.”

“Angie!” Y/N practically screamed. “I swear, if rent was not so obscenely ridiculous, I would kick you out and pretend we didn’t know each other.”

Chris laughed a bit awkwardly and cleared his throat.

“Alright, if you’re not going to jump on it, girlfriend, I’ll take this bullet. When are you going to ask me out?” Angie had come to the door and was looking at Chris with a cocky expression on her face.

“We’re leaving. Right now,” Y/N said, her tone dark. She gave Angie a small but forceful push back into the apartment, grabbed her clutch from the table near the door and proceeded to slam it behind her. “I cannot even. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into her tonight.”

“I hate to tell you but that was not a tonight only situation,” Chris said as he easily looped an arm around Y/N’s waist. “Your roommate has been flirting with me like that since the first time I met her.”

“And you never mentioned it?” Y/N looked up at Chris in confusion but he just gave a relaxed shrug. 

“She doesn’t actually mean anything by it. Trust me, if I took her up on it and asked her out, she would freeze up and then refuse.”

“And you know this because...?”

“Just one of those things.”

Y/N continued to look up at Chris, her brow furrowing and a small frown creasing her face. She didn’t like the sound of that. Had Chris asked Angie out? Had they actually gone out? As they walked out to the waiting town car, Y/N pondered the possibilities silently and tried to decide why the idea of her friend and her roommate having secrets or a relationship bothered her so much.

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Flashbulbs were everywhere. It was beyond blinding and if Chris hadn’t kept a steady hold on Y/N, she probably would have bumped into someone and fallen down. 

“They’ll calm down in a bit,” he whisper-shouted into her ear. “The only reason they’re taking so many pictures is cause we just got here. A little down the line, you’ll have no trouble seeing.”

“How can you see?!” she asked in a terrified voice.

“I’m just used to it.”

“I don’t understand how anyone could ever get used to this...” Y/N muttered.

Chris took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. He knew this wasn’t where she felt the most comfortable but he also wanted Y/N to enjoy herself. Premiers weren’t always great but if you let them, they could be a lot of fun. 

“Mr. Evans, we need you for a quick chat over here,” an assistant came bustling up to direct him to an interview. 

“Do you want to come with or hang back?”

Y/N looked at him with wide and wild eyes. “Hang back, definitely hang back.”

He laughed and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek for courage. “Stay right here, babe. I’ll be back before you know it.” He pressed down lightly on her shoulders as though he were sticking her in place and moved off to the microphone the assistant had pointed out. 

Y/N took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm herself. Chris had been right about the flashes calming down and now that some time had passed she was able to see a little better. In front of her were lines and lines of journalists and photographers, all calling out names and questions, but behind her there were bleachers full of fans. Many of them had signs and posters; some looked as though they had been camped out all day. Y/N turned slightly so that she could read some of the signs. 

“Hey, hey, Y/N!” someone called out to her. 

She looked around and spotted a fan at the barrier waving to her. “Umm...hi?”

“HI!! Sorry, this is probably totally creepy,” the girl said with a big smile. “I just feel like I know you from all the times Chris has talked about you.”

Y/N went a little closer to the girl. She was young and had obviously been waiting for a long time. Clutched in her arms was a canvas with all of the Avengers lovingly represented on it. One or two of the characters now bore a signature from the actor who played to role. 

“That’s really cool,” Y/N said pointing to it. “Did you make that?”

“Yeah!” Her face lit up as she held the canvas out for Y/N to inspect. “I want to be an artist when I grow up.”

“Do you mind?” Y/N reached out hesitantly and the girl placed it in her hands. It was incredible, each detail captured, every character given so much emotion. “You’re really talented.”

“Thanks! I was hoping to get everyone to sign it but...I couldn’t get a couple people’s attention. Do you think you could ask Mr. Evans if he’d sign it though?”

Y/N looked up at the girl and smiled. “Hold on to this,” she said, handing the canvas back. “I’ll make sure he comes over...or I’ll kick some Captain butt.” With a quick wink and smile, Y/N turned back to the front of the carpet and moved back to the space where Chris had left her. As if on cue, he finished his interview and returned to her. 

“Ready to keep going?”

“Not quite. I need two favors from you actually.”

Chris stared at Y/N, his eyebrows slightly raised. He could tell by her low and serious voice that she was being sincere. “What’s up?”

“Do you know who’s already inside?”

“Uh, yeah. I know that RDJ, Hemsworth, Mackie, Scarlett, Paul and Tom Holland have made it down the carpet...why?”

“Alright, she caught Rudd and Tom Holland. Do you have their phone numbers? RDJ, Hemsworth, Mackie and Scarlett, I mean?”

“Yeah...again, why?” Chris was beginning to look at Y/N like she had lost her mind. 

“’k, so favor number one: can you send a group text to those guys and the rest of the cast and ask them to make sure they sign this girl’s artwork?” Y/N jerked her head slightly to indicate where the fan stood. “She’s been here for a long time waiting and she made this incredible work of art to honor you all. It’d really mean a lot if everyone did this. If they could just come back out really quick?”

Chris was beaming at Y/N now, his phone already in his hand. He had been worried that she hated every bit of what was happening and it warmed his heart to see her caring so much about his fans.

“Done. Is favor number two that I go over and sign it right now?”

“Well...yeah.” Y/N gave an embarrassed shrug. “Sorry to be predictable.”

Chris wrapped his arm around her waist again, guiding her back towards the fan. “Trust me, babe. This is not an ‘’I’m sorry’ situation.”

Y/N smiled up at him brilliantly before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the young girl. “Look who’s here! And I didn’t even need to kick his butt. I just told him someone had a picture of his face and he couldn’t be stopped,” she said teasingly, looking between Chris and his fan. 

“It’s true,” Chris said with his trademark charming smirk. “I can’t resist beautiful things.”

Y/N laughed at him and shook her head, stepping back slightly so that his fans could have access to him. Watching him talk to everyone, sign posters and pose for pictures, she was reminded how lucky she was to have him in her life. His presence was something she had almost grown too accustomed to...almost taken for granted. 

“Hey Y/N,” said a low voice just behind her.

She turned to look over her shoulder and spotted Sebastian Stan standing at her side. She had met him several times before through Chris and had forgotten that as another Marvel actor he would be attending tonight. 

“Hey Seb, it slipped my mind that I’d be seeing you.” 

The man reached out and draped an easy arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “Ouch, didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he said with a chuckle. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“He can’t help it, stupid is his default setting,” Anthony Mackie teased as he walked by on his way to sign the canvas.

Both Seb and Y/N laughed at the man, Seb miming a kick in his direction.

“So, did Chris bring you tonight?”

“Yup...I lost a bet.” Y/N hung her head in a comical display of shame. 

“Well you may have lost but I think we all won.”

She looked up at him with her head cocked to the side. 

“You look gorgeous, Doll.”

“Oh,” Y/N blushed furiously, both at the nickname and the words preceding it. “Thanks...?”

Sebastian laughed at the way her word went up at the end, turning it into a question. 

“Hey Seabass!” Mackie called out. “Get over here and look at this. The girl managed to capture my magnificent thighs!”

With a smirk and a quick squeeze, Sebastian released his hold on Y/N’s shoulder. “Gotta go, Doll. Duty calls.” He shot her a wink and walked off to the line of fans, clapping Chris on the shoulder as they passed each other. 

“Alright, I’m thirsty,” Chris said as he reached her. “Ready to go inside?”

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“You didn’t tell me to make sure I had waterproof mascara on, you big jerk!” Y/N punched Chris’s shoulder again lightly, blinking her eyes rapidly and rubbing her hand along her cheek. The movie was fantastic, full of action and great one-liners like all Marvel movies, but it also had heart wrenching, terrible moments that had brought Y/N to the edge of sobbing. 

“I didn’t want to spoil anything,” he replied chuckling. “Besides, you look amazing.”

“I look puffy and red...and if I get a hold on Tom Holland tonight, I’m going to tear him apart for breaking me down like that!”

Chris was laughing in earnest now, his whole body rumbling. “That just means I have to spend the after party making sure you don’t get near him.”

“Good, you do that. Keep me at your side all night or I’m likely to hit one of your friends and cast mates for making me cry.”

“Alright, tough guy. Let’s go get a drink and enjoy the party, huh?”

“I can’t go in there yet!” Y/N looked at Chris in horror. “I have to go to the bathroom and take care of the trash panda mess that is my face! Get it together, Evans!”

She left him chuckling fondly as she strode off to check her makeup and gather herself. Hardly a minute had passed before Chris was joined by Sebastian, the man holding out a beer which Chris gladly accepted. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Seb asked casually. 

“Went to clean herself up. She got a little teary eyed during the screening.”

Sebastian nodded and took a long pull from his beer. “Listen man,” he started hesitantly. “Are you two...I mean, do you...”

Chris stared at his friend with his brow furrowed. 

“She still dating that guy? Davey, Dippy, Dopey...whatever his name was?”

“Nah, they broke up.”

Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. “And what about you?”

“I broke up with Jenny again, I told you that.”

“No, I mean, with her. Are you...would you be pissed if I asked Y/N out?”

Chris just stared at the other man. Sebastian wanted to ask Y/N out? His Y/N?? But she’s not mine, he reminded himself. She never has been. And she’s dated plenty of other men since I met her. What right do I have to tell Sebastian no?

“Uh- I mean, go for it.”

“Do you mean that?” Seb asked, studying Chris’s face.

“Yeah, sure. She did just tell me that she was kinda over the whole relationship thing right now though, so she might not be the most receptive...you might get a better response if you wait,” he added the last bit casually, tacking on a shrug and wondering if he was overacting the casual vibe he was aiming for. 

“I’ll take it into consideration,” Sebastian said thoughtfully. “See how the night goes and play it by ear.”

Chris just nodded numbly.

“Alright,” Y/N called as she approached the two men, “I’m decent enough to hang out with the world’s mightiest heroes again.”

“Would you settle for hanging out with the guy that plays a semi-stable 100 year old man?” Seb asked with a charming smile, stepping out to reach Y/N before she got to Chris. 

“Uh-” she said, glancing between the two men.

“Just don’t let her near Tom Holland,” Chris said, clapping Seb on the shoulder and moving away with a huge fake smile plastered on his face. “She’ll kick his ass and then we’ll all be in trouble.”

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“Mr. Evans, I know it’s a party, but please don’t forget you still have a late night interview after this...it might be wise to slow down on the drinks?”

The small assistant was hovering near Chris’s elbow, his expression anxious as he watched Chris sip yet another scotch on the rocks.

Chris didn’t normally drink, but tonight was not a normal night. “Keep me at your side all night”, that was what Y/N had requested. That was what Chris had wanted. Instead, she had spent the evening on Sebastian’s arm, at Sebastian’s side, laughing at Sebastian’s jokes, dancing with Sebastian. He slammed down the rest of his drink, wincing as it burned his throat, and knocked the glass onto the bar. 

Most of the time, Chris was extremely easy going. He was good natured. He liked almost everyone. Jealousy was not something he felt often but at the moment it was twisting in his stomach like an anaconda around its prey. His center was nothing more than a tight fist of rage. This wasn’t him being competitive, this was a base instinct. Fight or flight. Protect what was his. And maybe it was just the alcohol or maybe it was seeing her with someone that seemed to pose a real threat to him, but at that moment, Chris decided that Y/N was his. She would be his.

“Mr. Evans? It’s about that time to head to the show?”

“Thank you, Harold,” Chris replied to the assistant with a smile, his face easing out of the angry mask it had become over the last few hours. “I just have to go and get something.” With that, he stood up and made his way over to where Seb and Y/N stood, the man’s arm laid casually around her shoulders. “Sorry to interrupt but I actually have to steal you away, babe.”

“Oh?” Y/N sounded surprised but not necessarily disappointed. 

“Yeah, gotta go to that chat show remember? Interview with James Corden for TV? You said you’d come hang out?”

“You can stay here if you’d rather,” Sebastian offered quickly. “I can always give you a ride.”

“Thanks Seb, but I’ll go with. I wouldn’t mind just chilling backstage. Besides, I really like James Corden. He always makes me laugh with his crosswalk musical things!”

Sebastian looked slightly disappointed but didn’t argue, choosing instead to simply give Y/N and Chris both hugs and send them on their way with a promise to call her and arrange lunch. 

“You guys are having lunch?” Chris asked as they left the building and walked towards the town car that was waiting outside for them.

“He offered to take me to a ball game and then buy me food,” she responded with a shrug. “I tried to make it clear that it wasn’t gonna be a date.”

“Oh?” he asked as his heart lifted. “Seb’s not your type?”

“I can’t imagine dating a celebrity,” Y/N replied, her tone laced with disgust. “Besides, I told you, I’m over the whole relationship thing right now.”

“Right...” Chris felt his heart sinking back down in his chest again. This was the first time since he had met Y/N that they were both single at the same time and he was free to try and start a romantic relationship with her. Of course she would be sworn off romance. Will I ever catch a break? he wondered as the car pulled out and began the short drive to James Corden’s studio.

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Y/N sat backstage and watched the monitors of what was happening just around the corner. James Corden had brought Chris out to wild applause from the audience and asked him a few introductory questions about the movie. Chris gave all the right answers, promoting the movie well and exercising his not unformidable charm. 

“And there are deaths in the movie?” James tried to wheedle out spoilers. “Does everyone make it through?”

“Hey, I’d love to tell you, but I’m pretty sure Marvel has snipers in the audience that would take me out before I got a word out,” Chris joked jovially. 

“Well, at least tell me if I should go to the theater prepared with kleenex! That’s just good manners.”

“I’ll say this,” Chris hedged with a small smile, “I have it on good authority that waterproof mascara is recommended.” 

“Oh, well I always make sure to wear waterproof,” James retorted with a flutter of his eyelashes to the audience’s delight. “But who is this good authority? I heard a rumor you were recently single again; was I misinformed?”

“No, that’s true, I did break up with someone not too long ago.”

“Someone new in your life already?”

“No,” Chris said with a warm smile, his eyes flicking down briefly as the smile grew wider. “No, not new. Someone who’s been in my life for a while but I never fully appreciated.”

“Oh?” James tried not to interrupt or even make himself very noticeable. If Chris  kept talking, he may get a huge scoop. 

“That’s not the right way to say it actually. I always appreciated this person. I’ve appreciated her since the day we met...but I always thought that we couldn’t be any more than we were.” 

Backstage, Y/N sat frozen. Was Chris talking about her? She had told him off about the waterproof mascara...but the rest...?

“You’re married right?” Chris looked up suddenly at James who nodded. “Is your wife the greatest person in the world? The one that you want to tell all your stories to? The one that you can talk about anything with and always have fun with? The person who always seems to be on your wavelength?”

James was nodding frantically in agreement. 

“But more than that, right? Like, she also expands the things you know, gives you new experiences, takes you new places. She makes you better than you are. She’s the person that you see first in any room. You could walk into a full three ring circus and your eyes would still find her first. It doesn’t matter what she’s wearing, she’s still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. She’s my best friend and so much more than just that; so much more than I can put into words. That’s how it is with her; that’s how I feel about Y/N.”

All the air in the room, all the air in the world, seemed to have disappeared. There was no sound. Not a rustle of fabric or a whine of an electronic device. Y/N’s lungs seemed to be clenched too tightly to draw breath. Chris was in love with her. That was what he had just said, wasn’t it? He hadn’t used those words but what else could he have meant?

“Thank you for sharing that with us, Chris. And congratulations to you and Y/N. On that rather beautiful note,” James turned to the cameras with a smile, “We’ll take a break and be right back!”

The audience clapped and a crew member counted them out, letting James and Chris know when it was safe to relax. The moment the cameras were no longer filming, Chris leapt from his seat, shook James’s hand and practically galloped backstage. He was worried that Y/N might have fled but she still sat, frozen, in the chair she had taken before he made his confession. 

“Y/N?”

She turned her head to look up at him, her eyes wide and dazed. “That was...”

“The truth?” Chris finished for her.

“Was it?” She asked, her gaze becoming more focused on him. “Is that how you feel?”

He nodded. “That and more. I should have told you before, I should have just listened to Angie and asked you out but I...I don’t know. We were such good friends. And you were always dating other guys. And you hate the celebrity thing, you always said you’d never date anyone famous and you hate it when your picture shows up places, and I knew if we were together your picture would be taken.” Chris knew he was rambling but couldn’t seem to stop. “I always thought you just hated my career too much and that you weren’t interested but tonight...you were so great tonight. You took such good care of those fans and you even had fun but then Seb came around and he was flirting with you and you were laughing and touching his arm and I was this close,” he held up his fingers with a small space between them, “to tearing his arm off and beating him with it. Make him even more realistic as Bucky. So I just had to tell you, I had to-”

Y/N flung herself out of the chair and into his arms, her lips colliding against his with all the force of years of repressed passion. Chris responded equally as enthusiastically, wrapping his large arms around her and lifting her off the ground as he pressed their bodies together. Her lips were lush and tasted slightly of vanilla and cinnamon; Chris wondered if she always tasted this sweet and then if she would taste this sweet everywhere else. His hand went to the back of her neck as her fingers tangled into his hair, causing the gelled locks to splay and stick out in ridiculous, messy patterns. She tugged on his tresses lightly, garnering a moan from him, which allowed her to briefly slip her tongue into his mouth. 

Chris held Y/N even closer, his tongue chasing after hers and caressing its way into her mouth. He ran it along her lips, against her teeth, finally reaching out to brush against her own tongue, licking and exploring her as deeply as possible. 

“Chris,” she breathed out raggedly, breaking the kiss to speak. “Dressing room. Now.”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment. She had already been in his arms so it was easy to reach a hand down to the back of her thigh and pull her legs around his waist. Walking quickly, he carried her down the hallway, ignoring the looks of several crew members. He had been waiting years for this moment, god help anyone who tried to interfere or judge.

While they walked, Y/N kissed along his neck, her light nibbling causing his knees to tremble dangerously. 

“It does tickle,” Y/N giggled slightly. 

“What’s that, babe?”

“I was wondering earlier if your beard would tickle me if you kissed me.” She nuzzled against him and giggled again. “It does.”

“Just wait...soon it’s going to be tickling the inside of your thighs,” Chris retorted, his tone darkened with lust. 

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. “I’ll hold you to that, Evans.”

They reached the dressing room and Chris shoved the door open, striding inside and dumping Y/N onto the plush couch. “Don’t move,” he warned before turning to quickly close and lock the door. She wouldn’t have had time to move had she wanted to; Chris moved rapidly and within seconds was over her again, his body a pleasant weight pressing against her, pushing her down into the soft couch.

“I love this dress,” Chris muttered against her lips. “You look so amazing in silver.” He stopped to kiss her again as his hands traveled along her body. “But it’s covering too much of you...”

Chris sat up and grinned wolfishly at her before moving his hands down to her ankles. He went slowly, his touch brushing the fabric upwards as his fingers traced along her skin against her ankles, her calfs...up to the outside of her thighs. As his hands reached her hips, he looked away from their progress to stare at her eyes again. 

“Lift your hips for me, babe.”

She did as he asked and he continued to slip the fabric off her, his palms stroking over her belly, brushing along her breasts and finally coming up to pull the gown over her head. He cast it to the floor of the dressing room and simply stared down at her for a moment, sprawled on the couch in just bra and panties, looking up at him with her eyes full of hunger and lust. 

“Damn, Y/N. You are even more amazing than I imagined...and trust me, I imagined a lot.”

He grinned at her wickedly again as she bit her lip and then trailed his fingers down her neck causing her to shiver. He continued his descent, his hand stopping only briefly to squeeze her breast through her thin bra before moving down again to find the edge of her underwear. 

Never taking his eyes from hers, Chris slipped his fingers into the edges of her panties and drew them down, pulling them away from her and dropping them on top of her discarded dress. Y/N seemed shy, closing her legs and blushing, but Chris coaxed them open, kissing her knee and trailing his hand along her inner thigh. 

“You’re beautiful, babe.”

“Chris, I-” Y/N started but broke off in a ragged gasp as his fingers brushed over her slit. 

“You what?”

“I,” she panted. “I-”

“Is there something you want to tell me, babe?” His tone was teasing as he smirked down at her. He continued to run his thumb up her slit, pressing it against the small bundle of nerves each time. 

“Mmmm...” She moaned and arched her back. “More...please...”

Chris stoked her again, this time pressing circles against her clit when he reached it. “I don’t think that’s what you wanted to tell me, Y/N.” He moved her legs gently so that he was sitting between them, her slick sex fully exposed to him. “What did you want to tell me, babe?” Instead of stroking, this time when he touched her, Chris pressed his long middle finger inside her, groaning at how she squeezed around it.

Y/N was panting and moaning, her hips moving on instinct against Chris’s hand, chasing pleasure, while her own hands squeezed and tweaked her breasts. 

“I love you, Chris,” she said on a breathy exhale. “I love you!”

“I love you too, babe,” Chris said triumphantly. He pulled his finger out of Y/N earning a moan of disappointment that rapidly became a groan of pleasure when his mouth took the place of his hand. 

Chris licked a stripe along Y/N’s wet pussy, savoring the taste of her, every bit as sweet as her lips. Just as he had promised, his beard tickled the inside of her thighs as he went to work, exploring every part of her with his tongue. Every few strokes and licks he would work his way back to her clit, giving it a firm flick with his tongue before sucking it gently. In a matter of minutes, Y/N was coming undone, chanting his name while he sucked on her and shaking as the waves of her orgasm washed through her. She was so overwhelmed by the pleasure, she didn’t even notice as Chris stood and began to undress. It wasn’t until his body weight was above her, pressing her pleasantly into the couch again, that she opened her eyes.

“Hey babe,” Chris whispered, kissing her lightly. His face hovered over hers, bright blue eyes shining down at her with a mixture of lust and love, his hair still standing on end from where she had run her fingers through it. 

Y/N moved her hands to his shoulders, squeezing the large muscles and sliding along the soft skin. He was the most beautiful man she had ever met and he loved her.

“I need you inside me,” she whispered to him. 

Chris wasted no time in complying. The tip of his hardened length had already been aligned with her, brushing against her entrance teasingly. At her word, Chris pressed his hips forward, both of them groaning as he slipped into her. 

“Damn, babe,” he moaned against her neck, his head falling against her, “You’re so tight.”

Y/N couldn’t think straight enough to protest that it wasn’t her tightness but rather his impressive size. Chris was thick and long; he was barely inside her and already filling and stretching her in that perfect blend of pleasure and pain. He moved slowly, pressing into her with gentle determination until he was fully sheathed in her. For a moment they simply stayed that way, as closely connected as possible, but before long, Y/N was aching for him to move, craving the friction and pleasure to come. 

“Please, Chris,” she begged him. “Please fuck me.”

Chris chuckled and kissed along her neck, slowly drawing his hips back and starting a steady rhythm, rocking against her. 

“More,” she moaned as her fingernails dug into his back.

He snapped his hips forward forcefully and she cried out, her back arching as her face screwed up in pleasure. Chris kissed along her jawline and continued, his strokes becoming faster and harder now that she was accustomed to the feel of him. 

“I’m close, I’m so close,” Y/N moaned as he continuously hit the sweet spot deep within her.

“Me too, babe,” Chris said through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Let go, Y/N...just enjoy it.”

With one last moan of his name, she came undone again, her nails digging into his back as her body tensed and relaxed, her muscles clenching tightly around Chris and bringing him over the edge as well. He found her lips again, kissing her and moaning her name as he continued to thrust, coaxing them both through the waves of pleasure as they came down. 

For another minute, they simply lay on the couch, twisted in each other’s arms, enjoying the feelings they had been denying themselves for years. Then Chris drew back to stare down at Y/N; her hair was a mess from rubbing against the couch, her cheeks flushed and lipstick smeared. Her eyes were still glazed with recent pleasure and her chest heaved unevenly. 

“You’re just as beautiful as the first time I saw you,” Chris said lovingly, leaning down to kiss her chastely. 

“The first time you saw me I had a hole in my lip and a mouthful of blood,” Y/N scoffed at him.

“Yeah, you did. And you were still the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.”

“Such a liar, Evans.”

“Not to you, babe. Not about this.” He shook his head seriously. “I was crazy about you from the first moment I set eyes on you.”

Y/N blushed and looked away from him biting her lip. “Hey...what’s our percentage?”

“What?”

“You know how things were only good with Jenny like 10% of the time? What would you say our percentage is?”

Chris looked down at her and laughed, enjoying the unrestrained laughter that she always brought out in him. “About...99.9%.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before breaking out into a huge smile. “I’ll take that answer.” 

“What percentage would you have said?” Chris asked quizzically. 

“Nope, not telling,” Y/N said with a smile as her phone started to buzz. 

“Oh, come on, babe, that’s not fair!”

“You should have asked me before you told me what your percentage was if you wanted to know! Now I have no incentive to tell you,” she teased while grabbing her phone. 

“Oh, I can give you an incentive,” Chris growled playfully. “Come ‘ere!”

He grabbed her and pulled her laughing back to the sofa, kissing her wildly and tickling his fingers along her body. Y/N’s phone lay forgotten on the table, the screen open to a text from Angie that read simply: “Saw Corden. About damn time!”

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 9

Warnings: Mentions of violence.

Colton had offered to retrieve my car and park it on the top level of the parking garage, so the herd of relentless paparazzi outside wouldn’t catch a shot of me leaving the hotel in clothes from the night before, at 10 a.m the following day. The 16-minute drive back to my apartment had soothed me deeper into a sleepy trance, along with the settling smorgasbord from breakfast. A dizzy nausea was attacking me too, as the nerves for Colton’s fight in only a handful of hours kept growing, and growing. He liked to be the overly-confident big mouth when it came to the topic, but I knew there had to be a sliver of anxious stress somewhere in him. I knew because I’d heard him go on & on about how “important this was to his career,” and he “hated to admit it, but he really needed to prove himself across the world of MMA.” 

I gulped a swig of Pepto Bismol from the bathroom medicine cabinet, and stripped my clothes for a much needed power nap in my bed which suddenly felt like rocky ground after sleeping on the expensive pillowtop at the hotel last night.

Warmer days were more & more frequent in the city now, so I was able to wear a suede peep-toe bootie that night. I followed instruction and sported my leather jacket per Colton’s request, along with a loose-fitting black shift dress that rubbed at my mid-thigh. My makeup a bit more dramatic courtesy of the cobalt blue trace of eyeliner I added, and my hair left down, tousled with loose waves. I never usually let it get much passed shoulder length as it held more tangles in doing so. But, the man in my life had quite the attraction to my now very lengthy, ombre blonde strands. Any time he’d escort me to the shower, I was required to turn my back to him for a brief moment so he could observe the water cascading through my hair, causing it to paint slickly down to the bra line of my back. He combed his digits through the ends, tracing the flow of warm water down to the noticeable dimples indented in the small of my back. So, not quite ready to let go of that particular little habit he had developed, I indulged him with a longer style for now. Wrestling with myself after awaking from my nap, I texted him.

L: Thanks again for last night <3  I’ll be sure to pack my first aid kit in case you need some extra TLC tonight!

Fully expecting just to be left on “read” without a reply, I was all the more pleasantly surprised when I heard his designated text tone chime across the bedroom.

C: No. Thank YOU for last night. And if those medical supplies you’re talkin’ about include a tight fittin’ little nurse outfit then YES PLEASE!!!!! I love you, Livvy Caroline.  

After arriving at the Palumbo Center, I decided to park my Honda in the covered complex rather than on the street, figuring I’d probably be loaded up into the black Suburban that Colt had rented so he & the team could all ride together this weekend, to paint the town after his victory. I tucked my arm through the chained strap of my crossbody purse & adjusted the “L” pendant necklace that was nestled between my cleavage. I felt sexy; important even. No one else in the arena knew that I was the girlfriend of the lethal animal that would be headlining tonight, but I certainly did. And it made me high.

I strolled boldly into the side entrance, greeting one of the guards I had become familiar with throughout the countless other events I had covered at the Palombo. Emmett, a towering steel wall of unyielding strength.

“Pretty as ever, Ms. Liv. How you doin’?” he said with the polite tipping of his worn tan Ascot hat.

“Doing fantastic, Emmett! You ready for this one?” We always exchanged predictive play-by-plays of whatever particular event of the night was, and I appreciated the fact that he didn’t chuckle or mock when a woman such as myself chimed an opinion in regard to athletics. Something rare, but regretfully present at at least two hockey games I attended for work when I first moved here. One being from a coach I approached for a question post-game, stating that he was “sure I could give him pointers on how to improve the teams’ uniforms if he needed them, but otherwise he didn’t have time to speak with me.” That was the first instance I questioned whether the big city of Pittsburgh would ever be the place for me.

“Oooooooooh girl, you know this gonna be a brawl.”

Chuckling lightly to his animated response, I shook my head with a pat to his arm and moved passed to head to the main room and locate my seat. Since I had entered from the private entrance, I had to navigate through the hallways and locker rooms to reach the arena floor. Smiling blankly at by passers, I reached into the side pocket of my bag for the nude lipstick I planned to apply at my pitstop to the restroom. My pace slowed a bit in struggle to locate it, eyes looking down in search. When I finally grasped it tucked away under a wad of crinkled receipts, my gaze lifted again to push open the door of the ladies’ room. However, I couldn’t seem to muster the very minimal effort it would’ve taken to open it, due to the hooded man marching down the wide hallway.

Mac was leading the pack, and Colton tailed the end of the line with his hands settled into the front pocket of a sweatshirt, headphones adorning his neck. His thinned, focused eyes instantly found mine, rendering me unable to even blink. Just as he was strolling right past me, those very same eyes sank to the now heavy rise & fall of my chest, then traced down the span of my glowy, toned legs. Last on the list of body parts for him to make love to with his eyes, he locked his penetrating sights onto my sex, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He need not use words, because I knew unmistakably what those black pupils were envisioning. I watched his head turn then to face forward as he was escorted into what I assumed was his locker room. Now that my underwear were sopping for the evening, that was that.

 The profuse adrenaline spreading like a smoky vapor throughout the arena almost had me stimulated like a wave of lust. Not near as much as the very rated PG-13 encounter I had just had with Colton backstage, but stimulated, nonetheless. Black folding chairs lined the room, neon lights showing the stains of gum, spilled soda and ketchup splatters that covered the concrete floors. My seat was two rows behind the announcers table, and I was pleased with the exceptional view I would have for the fight. The jumbotron hanging from the rafters displayed a countdown clock reading 37 minutes until the match would be underway. I settled in, tucking my purse into my lap after removing my cell phone for some leisure social media catch up to aid in passing the time.

The crowd steadily poured into the empty seats, along with the television broadcasters at the booth in front of me. Luckily, I was able to eaves drop on the preshow now underway, hearing one of the suited men state that “Danny Mendez was in for a true contest with Colton Ritter.” An ounce of relief came over me that there were people other than myself and members of Colt’s camp who sincerely believed he had a very likely shot of stealing the belt tonight, but not enough relief to still the tapping of my toe, or erase the clamming of my twiddling hands. Suddenly the bulbs of the LED gym lights began clicking off row by row, and rap music began to thump from the mega speakers. 15 minutes running down the clock now. Short clips of Danny’s past battles flashed on the theater size screen, along with a few clips from Colton at the gym. Before I knew it, total darkness for a moment, followed by circling blue spotlights all around the cage.

Realizing it was indeed showtime now, whistles, claps and sporadic shouting ensued under the arena rooftop. Everyone began standing when the chords of “Let’s Go” by Run The Jewels struck up and a single white light aimed towards the tunnel entrance. Colton had left me with the daunting responsibility of selecting his song of introduction, so I knew any moment he would emerge into sight when I heard the tune begin.

Colton came trudging into view wearing the same sweatshirt he’d been sporting earlier, only now changed into his red fighting trunks. Mac’s logo, along with several other local business names were stamped as sponsors down the sides of his shorts. I was shocked at how many fans of his were revealed by the off-beat chants of his name, and of course the army of female admirers hooting like retrievers in heat. He didn’t waste any time making his way to the waiting referee, offering no high fives or fist bumps to hecklers swatting over the steel barricades of the aisle. He stripped the sweat absorbed shirt handing it to Mac, raised his arms to be patted from top to feet, then pulled back his lips to reveal he was wearing his required mouthguard. I always loved the way the chunky plastic made his lips fatten out when clenched between his teeth.

Next, the black latex gloves of the official smeared a thin layer of petroleum jelly onto each cheek bone, along the bridge of his nose, then across his perspiring forehead, and granted him entry into the cage door. Colton took one of the three steps entering and proceeded to jog two laps around the perilous steel playpen, rolling and stretching his bulging neck and trap muscles. He continued familiarizing himself with every square inch of the octagon mat taking in deep gulps of air through his nostrils, then exhaling gradually out his mouth. From what I could see, he gave the impression of a man prepared, focused and dangerously hungry for blood. The boom of Danny’s theme song didn’t seem to faulter Colton’s bluish eyes. Clear eyes, just like I had told him.

The second fighter followed his own pattern of flashy introductions kissing the cheeks of two women and a baby along his journey in, then aiming a single middle finger towards Colt during his examination from the same ref. When the door was latched behind him, both warriors stalked their opponent.

The suited announcer took his mark in the center, microphone in hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and welcome! The following match up is for the Professional Fighter’s Federation Middleweight Championship. Introducing first in the left corner your challenger weighing in at 184 pounds in his PFF debut, Colton Ritterrrrrr.”

“And in your right corner, the current undisputed Middleweight champion with a weight of 181 pounds Danny “The Matador” Mendez.”

I wanted to join the thundering “boo” at the mention of his name too, but refrained professionally. Mendez had fans, but many of them boastful douchebags such as himself.

I felt as if I needed to bury both hands over my heart to trap it inside my chest, and I can only imagine the feelings that were swarming Colton’s body. Tyson O’Brien, the preferred ring official across the circuit was passed the mic and motioned Mendez and Colton to step to him.

“Alright fellas, we’ve been over the rules. Protect yourself at all times, and you will follow my instructions. We’re gonna have a clean fight tonight. Touch gloves.”

Neither seething man extended a hand, instead retreated to their labeled corners with no interest other than drawing blood.

Tyson addressed Colton, “you ready?” Receiving one single nod in answer. After the same reply from his opponent, he dropped a hand to begin the time. The clock began ticking on potentially the most sickeningly vexing 25 minutes on my sheltered life.

 Round One

Twenty-five seconds in, and a fist had yet to be thrown. The two danced gracefully barefoot around each other, faces hid partially behind gloved fists. I could tell by the unsteady breaths from his nostrils that Colt was holding back a brutal eruption. Mac coached him to pace himself, because Mendez had a reputation of exhausting an opponent to the point of break, then he would unleash. So slow and steady would most likely win this race.

Colton would be the first to stretch forth in assault, however only connecting with Mendez’s thrown block. I swear I could hear a wisp of power cut through the air. The instant combo of left-right-right he threw next though, tagged his opponent just below the right eye. Danny smiled at the pain, now extremely ready to get things started indeed. Colton seemed to have a bit of an advantage with a reach much longer than Mendez, resulting in explosive strikes to the reddening body of the predicted victor.  His head movements strategically executed to clear any blows to the face in the first 2.5 minutes, but the leg kicks from the current champ were connecting painfully to his thighs. The handsome combatant carried a slight limp on his left leg for a moment, babying it from the strike. One leg lift however played in his favor when he was able to grab Danny’s calf and manage a powerful takedown that sent his back crashing to the ground.

Before he was pinned under Colt’s powerful legs, he managed to turn on all fours on his elbows. The attempt to escape was lost nevertheless when my red shorted fighter wrapped one arm around his torso, crushing with the force of a vice grip. He had evidently done his homework for this match up. His hands pounded like concrete blocks against the cauliflower ear and exposed temple of Danny, one blow he connected on the corner of his brow even resulted in the first blood secretion on the mat. He was like a great white in the open water inhaling the sent of a wounded seal. His right-hand imposed fist after fist, and Mendez was visibly shook.  37 seconds remained on the timer.

Shortly thereafter the time keeper smacked together his wooden blocks to notify now only 30 seconds left in the round. Dan wormed his way out of the hold to stand to his feet, placing ample space between the two of them for a brief instant before charging Colton with a swift roundhouse kick, thankfully missing. A blow horn shrieked, and the men retreated to corners joined by training staff members. I thought I may need medical attention next when I released a breath of momentary relaxation and noticed the half moons of nail marks I had pushed into the inside of my thigh. This round undoubtably belonged to Colton.

 I was suffocating the urge to dart straight to the concession stand for a generous dose of nerve settling liquor. Was I cut out to be the girlfriend of a fighter? Could I really stomach watching him suffer blow after blow to the head, or have to spend the weeks after a match nursing a concussion? Driving him around the city in search of an oral surgeon to repair the teeth that had been forcibly removed from his gums? Was I thick-skinned enough to tarry that journey? The answer is no. The idea of it all made me want to projectile vomit the lavish breakfast I had with him that morning. The daunting apprehension that even every day mundane tasks like choosing where to get gas, or what facial cleanser wouldn’t cause a rash literally sent my brain into unnerving override. I didn’t have the thickened skin for it. I wasn’t designed for dramatic unraveling’s. But, he was like a computer technician rewiring a hard drive from the inside out when it came to my old habits. Colton Ritter was reviving me, rebuilding me into the daring, strong and ultimately better version of myself, and I would forever be grateful. I could feel myself developing the depth of not only headstrong, flourishing journalist, but loyal, passionate life partner as well.  So, if nursing contusions or taping broken fingers was necessary to my repertoire, then so be it.

I dialed in on the announcers again in effort to gather expert opinion on predictions now that the first round was in the books.

“I’m gonna be real honest with you, man. This is not at all how I saw this going. Ritter came out explosive! The kid ain’t the slouch that most of the locker room had expected. Matter of fact, Jake, a few guys for Danny’s camp have been callin’ him a ‘pretty boy’.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard that little nickname floating around too, Brett. But it seems to me that so-called pretty boy is doin’ some serious punishing in that cage right now. Solid fist round for the newcomer.”

Pretty boy? Colt would roll over if he heard these guys refer to him that way on the radio. It absolutely suited him on the outward appearance, 98% of the heterosexual female population would agree. Still, it lacked the desired malevolent intimidation factor for the nickname of a mixed martial artist.

How can you spin this, Eliiot? Make it work…hmmm… Pittsburgh Pretty Boy? Ew no, too WWE. Pretty boy.. pretty boy. Pretty Boy Punisher? Oooooh, that’s got a ring to it. The Pretty Boy Punisher.

I would definitely add that to my article. Anything to deter the entire world of cage fighting from calling him a pretty boy, and taking him for a joke.  

The coaches scurried suddenly to the outer walls of the cage, clearing out water bottles and folding black stools before the next round began, and inhuman beasts attacked each other once more.  

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

[bi-swan-trash]

Double Date

This one is for @hime1993 for Femslash February!

You can find it here on AO3.

I’ve decided this takes place in late 2007.

“Are you sure about this?” Ziva asked, donning a bright blue v-neck shirt over her favorite comfy jeans. “It seems like Abby has an unfair advantage.”

“We’re in teams and she has Jenny. I think that voids out her advantage,” Kate teased.

“I have never really bowled before,” Ziva said, using the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door to examine her outfit and put her hair up.

Kate walked over to her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around Ziva’s waist and resting her head atop Ziva’s shoulder.

“You’re a top agent with a deadly right punch. I think you can handle it.”

Ziva laughed. “Is that your way of saying you have not bowled either?”

“Hell no! I grew up in Indiana. Of course I’ve been bowling before.” Kate paused before adding, “though cornhole was really more my sport.”

“You’ll have to teach me sometime,” Ziva said, leaning her head against Kate’s for a moment before going out into the small living room to put on her shoes.

Kate joined her, saying, “first rule of a bowling alley is don’t order the hamburger.”

“Oh?”

“Just trust me,” Kate said. “Nachos are always safer.”

***

When they arrived at the bowling alley, the first thing Kate noticed was Abby’s personal skull-rhinestoned bowling shoes. The second thing she noticed was that all of Jenny’s warm-up throws were two-handed.

This was gonna be a walk in the park.

“You made it!” Abby exclaimed as she rushed over to the two women and threw her arms around them. “Ready to get your butts kicked?”

“You wish,” Kate shot back. “Give Ziva a few warm up throws and then you’re going down!”

Ziva cracked her knuckles. “Let’s do this.”

“I see you two are already plotting our demise,” Jenny said, holding out a ball for Ziva, which she took.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way, Jen,” Kate replied, leaning in for a hug.

Abby watched as Ziva squared her shoulders and took her best shot down the lane. She didn’t do half bad as 8 of the 10 pins fell.

“Not bad,” Abby commented, “but wait until you see a pro do it.”

“I never did ask,” Ziva said, “which one of your nun friends taught you how to bowl?”

“Everyone gives out pointers, but easily Sister James Michael,” Abby told her.

“Maybe you should take Jen to some of your outings and get Sister James Michael to help her out,” Kate teased.

“Oh trust me, Sister has tried,” Jenny joked back.

“Are we gonna talk all night, or start kicking ass?” Ziva asked.

Everyone laughed as the competition began.

***

The game was actually pretty close by the end. Kate was a fair bowler, having had bowling during summer gym in high school and having gone to numerous bowling birthday parties. Ziva was still a novice, but caught on quite quickly, as was her nature. Abby was a definite pro and was beating the heck out of everyone else. Jenny, as predicted, was a lost cause.

In the end, Abby and Jen ended up just barely winning due to Abby’s excellent skills.

“If Abby was playing alone, she’d whup us all,” Kate said, laughing.

“None of us would come close,” Ziva agreed.

“Alright! We admit defeat!” Kate said. “Drinks on us.”

“Hey, I’m never gonna turn down a free drink,” Jenny said.

“Do we also get a victory lap?” Abby asked.

“Where on earth were you planning on doing that?” Kate asked.

Abby shrugged. “Usually someone has a pick up truck and we use that, but I guess none of us came prepared tonight.”

The others laughed.

“Come on, dear. Let’s let them buy us some drinks, hmm?” Jen said, wrapping her arm around Abby’s waist and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“We can even try to get Ziva drunk. It’s hysterical,” Kate said.

Ziva punched Kate’s arm lightly.

“She gets really good at dancing a few drinks in,” Kate told them.

“Let’s get loose!” Abby exclaimed, picking up her bowling bag and hooking her arm through Jenny’s, guiding them through the door.

“This should be interesting,” Kate said.

“Does that mean you are driving home?” Ziva asked, grinning.

“I never miss a chance to see my lady having the time of her life,” Kate quipped.

Ziva laughed before taking Kate’s hand and leading her out after the other couple.

***

When they got to the bar, Kate was true to her word. She didn’t drink anything other than soda and she kept the tab open for the others.

They avoided work talk at all costs, instead turning to lighter conversation such as their favorite shows and places they’d like to travel to.

“Have you two ever seen Moonlight? It’s super new, but I’m obsessed,” Abby said.

“Is it because of the vampires?” Kate asked.

“Vampires are just so fascinating!” Abby replied.

“We’re watching Ugly Betty right now,” Ziva said.

“Seriously?” Jenny asked, surprised.

“We have to have something fun to watch after a stressful day of work,” Kate countered. “America Ferrera is an angel and her acting is spot on.”

“She thinks America Ferrera is cute, doesn’t she?” Jenny asked Ziva.

Ziva covered her mouth trying not to laugh as she nodded.

“Kyle XY is another good one,” Abby pointed out.

Kate looked to Jenny who just shrugged.

“She’s into the weird stuff, what can I say? That’s what I love about her.”

Jenny leaned her head on Abby’s shoulder.

“We should all go somewhere together,” Ziva said suddenly. She was halfway through her fourth drink of the night, which signalled to Kate that Ziva was about to start planning a spontaneous trip.

“Where to?” Abby asked.

“Think about the most amazing place you want to go,” Ziva said.

“The Galapagos Islands,” Jenny said without hesitation, “Abby has always wanted to go there.”

Abby flashed her a sweet smile.

“Alright then,” Ziva downed the rest of her drink, “let’s do it!”

“Whoa there,” Kate said, keeping Ziva in her seat. “Planning, babe. We have to have a plan. We can work the details out later, huh?”

“You are right,” Ziva said, her face very serious before lighting up. “Let’s dance!”

Kate laughed as Ziva pulled her up and onto the small dance floor.

“Well, we can’t miss out on the fun,” Jenny said, offering up a hand to Abby.

Abby grinned, taking it. “I can’t wait for our next double date!”

Final two days for requests! Click here to see what I’ll write for!

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Of Blood and Roses

Chapter Three

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Loki x Lauren  |  Word Count: 7357 Warnings: Smexy, fluff, language.

Lauren strolled slowly along beside Loki, Socks held in the crook of her elbow, purring and dozing in equal measure. It was the kitten who had woken her hours later when his tail had tickled her nose and caused her to sneeze.

Loki had chuckled softly, but it seemed he too was happy to have her awake when his hands had begun to roam beneath the sheet. He'd kept his word, playing a new game, one that saw her riding the edge of release in frustration when he'd decided to teach her about delayed gratification.

She'd threatened to delay his gratification for two or three days if he didn't get on with it.

The kitten had learned quickly to move to a safe distance when Loki had returned from beneath the sheet to lock Lauren’s wrists to the headboard and take her hard and wild until she was screaming his name.

Even now, in full view of the people wandering the halls, Lauren felt the lick of heat stroke her spine and smoulder in her belly.

“Mm, beloved. You keep thinking such… deliciously naughty thoughts, I will be required to drag you into an alcove and assuage you of your need,” Loki whispered against her ear, sending an even bigger wave of lust humming down her spine.

“Hush you,” she whispered back and blushed pink. “I swear it's all your fault anyway. I was never like this before you came along and showed me what I was missin’.” Lauren flicked a dismissive hand his way and marvelled momentarily at the sleeve of the jacket he’d made to go with her dress.

The midnight blue gown had been such a shock when it appeared. Lauren was used to white or green or gold, he had a penchant for all three after all, but this was completely different. A blue so dark it was nearly black but with a sheen like oil on water creating rainbows in the fabric. A sheer overlay had golden sparkles and five-pointed stars scattered across the expanse of its nighttime vista. Another belt spanned her waist, but this one was thin, made of links of lustrous gold, with a single square medallion of Loki's symbol to hold the ends together. It rode low on her hips but made Lauren loved how it seemed to shift and move with every step she took in her sparkly slippers. The scoop neck was high, her torque disappearing from view beneath the pretty dress, and she’d looked at Loki in confusion.

Her trickster had only smiled wickedly and explained he and Thor had discussed it, deciding they should inform Odin first before too many others found out. Certainly, Sif and the Warriors Three knew, but they would keep silent, and he was reasonably certain the guards who had so surprised Lauren had been too amazed by her beauty to notice the torque around her throat.

The last had made her blush, again, but Loki never minded. He liked to make her cheeks pink, he’d said, didn't matter which set.

That, of course, had caused her to blush crimson while he'd produced the crowning glory of a coat to go along with the sleeveless masterpiece of a dress.

It’s blue was a shade lighter, more royal with hints of navy and shimmering purple. It was heavily embroidered in threads of the same colours as well as exquisite beads and gleaming blue stones. The fabric was like crushed silk, the most gorgeous thing Lauren had ever seen and while she was happy he’d created something to keep her warm, she was genuinely terrified to wear it. What if she wrecked it? Caught it on something and it tore, or got it dirty? It dragged along behind her like a train, after all.

Loki had only arched a brow and snickered for if he could make it from nothing, how difficult would it be for him to repair it?

Another blush had filled her face because he was right and she was being silly, but lord have mercy! It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever worn. When he’d helped her into it, smoothing the heavy fabric over her shoulders, Lauren had breathed out a shaky breath.

This was it. She was going to see and be seen by everyone as there were bound to be more than a handful of people out and about now, seeing as how it was after midday, the sun was high, and she was certain people had business to attend to.

Of course, Loki had noticed her nerves and scooped the lazy kitten up - he’d made their bed his own and was all four feet in the air napping away still - and placed his soft, sleepy body in her arm like a security blanket. His warmth and constant purr were as soothing in her arm as it had been on Lauren’s pillow, and she’d walked confidently out of their room at Loki’s side.

Ninety minutes later, it was still working, and she’d lost much of her nerves to awe with the size and vastness of the palace.

Palace. It was more like a citadel sitting high over the city in its shining splendour and glory. It was beautiful and grand. The ancientness of stone and wood sat side by side with technology far beyond Lauren’s understanding. Yet each enormous stone pillar with its carvings of runes and interwoven ropes were also simply beyond her knowledge.

Loki had explained how each told a story, were part and partial to the creation of Asgard or a battle fought long ago, but she could no more read them than she could explain the workings of the elevator system they used or the flying boats she saw flitting around the city.

They’d walked through halls with massive stone and gold statues. They looked like the guards who stood at attention throughout the halls but were so tall, she’d nearly fallen over trying to see their faces. One entire floor had been dedicated to the most stunning tropical garden Lauren had ever seen, filled with waterfalls and plants in colours so vibrant they had stolen her breath.

Another had been dark and quiet, the halls walked by men in robes of maroon and deep red.

They’d all eyed her while whispering to each other. Loki had called them scribes, and when he’d motioned to the guards at the end of the hall to open the massive oak doors, she understood why he’d called them that. The library beyond was the biggest she’d ever seen. It appeared to run for miles, which she knew couldn’t be right, but it went on forever and up for three levels. But it had been watching Loki as he grew animated, his eyes bright and smile genuine and quick when he’d shown her his favourite secret alcoves and the vast collection of books in every language within the realms, that she’d loved best. He'd looked so boyish and sweet, she'd loved every second of their time in the library.

Now, they’d made it to the main level and were walking the stately stone balcony where quite a few other couples and groups of people had gathered, making their way toward one of the many wide stairways which led down into the gardens.

Lauren moved closer to Loki when the eyes on them grew intense. She felt a bit like a fish in a fishbowl and tried not to let the twittering, giggling, staring women, or the piercing, assessing, curious eyes of the men get to her. People would nod or smile, but no one approached, and it was wigging her out a little.

“Is this normal?” she finally asked, giving Socks’ bottom a shove when the kitten tried to climb up and perch on her shoulder. He settled there, alert and watching, occasionally brushing his face against her jaw. “They all seem highly invested in our wanderin’, but you’d think one or two would come over and say hi, wouldn’t they?”

He snickered softly, his eyes alight still with how happy he’d been today. “No, pet. You see, they all believe I am courting you still, trying desperately to win the hand of my beloved. Therefore they give us a wide berth. They stay back and gossip, but that gossip pertains only to how beautiful you are. The women cannot believe you are of Midgard, and the men cannot understand how I, the second son and once betrayer, have been so fortunate as to obtain such an Ástvinur,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles. “But fear not, my heart. Once your place at my side is announced, you will be inundated with company. Everyone will seek your favour.”

Unable to hold it back, Lauren giggled and blushed for what felt like the millionth time that day before swatting him lightly on the chest. “You’re puttin’ me on.”

“I assure you, I am not,” he teased, tugging her hand, so she had to skip a step to keep up.

“You’re so bad!” she snickered. “All of them are gonna lose it when they find out the truth, aren’t they?”

“Indeed, my sweet.” He drew her to a stop at the top of the stairs in full view of all those prying eyes. “But then you like it when I’m tricky.” His arm went around her waist and pulled her even closer before he dipped his head and kissed her deeply.

Lauren sighed and let her body flow into his, sway into the robust figure of her God of Mischief. She parted her lips when he asked her to with a sweep of his tongue, and hummed softly in pleasure when his taste filled her mouth.

He broke away slowly, his joy radiating from him in waves. His smile was so beautiful, she could only stare at him in awe.

“What?” he asked. “Have I stolen your senses, love?”

“You’ve stolen my heart,” she whispered. “I love you so much, Loki.”

His eyes grew soft and his smile warmer. “Darling,” he crooned and placed a tender kiss on her cheek. “You humble me when you say such things.”

Brushing her hair over her shoulder and giving Socks a scratch with his finger, Loki tugged the tiny braid against her cheek. It made the kitten a new game when he began to swat at it, causing Lauren to laugh as Loki turned and led her carefully down the stairs into the sun and out onto the carpet of clipped grass.

“This place just gets more and more amazin’,” Lauren sighed. “I can't even think of a better word!”

“Seeing it today through your eyes… I have discovered its magnificence again. I had long grown blind to the wonders of this world but now, watching you today, Lauren…” He pulled her down a path lined with stones where flowers dripped from tall trees in delicate blossoms of pale purple. Beneath the shading boughs, he sat her on a bench and went to his knees before her. “You make it all seem… beautiful, and grand, and mystical again. Not even Frigga could do that for me anymore. Everything through your eyes is….”

He seemed to run out of words, stumble over his silver tongue, and Lauren gently took his face between her palms. “You fit here, peaches. Like a lost puzzle piece findin’ its place.”

“I hardened my heart against it,” he sighed, leaning into her hand. He closed his eyes against the painful memories, crossed his arms over her lap and laid his head on them. “It hurt too much to think about Asgard, mother, all I'd lost.”

Lauren carded her fingers through his hair, letting her nails skim his scalp like she knew he liked and was rewarded with a happy hum of approval. “If I was told I couldn't come back here again after seein’ it now? I'd put up a few walls to protect my heart too.”

“Finding you… has been the greatest blessing of my entire existence,” he whispered.

If she happened to notice the dampness of his eyes, Lauren didn't say anything, just continued to stroke his hair as the light breeze blew and small petals rained down around them. She breathed the crisp air, the scent of the flowers heady and sweet, and let Loki take what he needed, offering comfort even in her silence.

The kitten jumped from her shoulder to the bench and to the ground when they stayed that way a little longer, and began chasing petals, rolling and tumbling in his enthusiasm. Lauren smiled at his antics but didn't move. She would be happy to stay exactly where she was, Loki's head in her lap with his smile content for as long as he needed.

But the moment of serenity didn’t last when a burst of laughter came from somewhere nearby.

He sighed and got to his feet. “Come. I will take you to mother’s garden. It is not, or at least has never been, open to the riffraff to wander through.”

“Riffraff?” Lauren snickered and took his offered hand. “Certainly not everyone is riffraff.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He linked her arm through his and led her on down the stone path. Lauren glanced back to see what had become of her furry friend, only to find the little rascal chasing the tale of her coat as the skimming length caused the petals to lift and swirl, twist and twirl, and Socks to attack in a flurry of flashing feet and gleaming claws.

Laughing softly, she leaned her head against Loki’s shoulder and tightened the hold she had on his arm. “Tell me a story,” she asked.

“A story? Of what?”

“Of when you were a boy. Somethin’ happy. Somethin’ that makes you smile.”

He seemed to think for a moment before a grin lit up his face, and he pulled her from the stone path onto a gravel one where flowers of bright sky blue bloomed beautifully beneath trees of yellow blossoms. “When I was seven, mother began teaching me about seiðr. I’d been training with Thor and Father that day but… it hadn’t gone well. I was weaker than Thor though I refused to admit it and between his jabs and Father’s disapproval and the yelling of the trainers in the hall I felt as if I was the biggest failure in all of Asgard.”

Lauren lifted her head to frown at him. “I thought I asked for a happy story.”

“I’m getting there,” he chuckled and stepped off the path to lead her beneath the brilliant yellow flowers. “Mother found me hiding in the garden right…” he ducked beneath a low hanging branch, “here.”

Ducking down, Lauren pushed petals and branches out of the way and stood to find herself surrounded by a sea of yellow. The small bower was like being in the center of a soft sun while standing in an ankle-deep ocean of blue.

He knelt down, tugging her to the ground with him.

“Won’t we crush them?” she asked of the vibrant blue blooms which covered the ground.

He waved off her concerns. “They are hardier than they appear, but if you are worried.” Loki tugged her into his lap.

Lauren sat perched on his thigh and touched the wall of yellow flowers. “If I was gonna hide from the world, I don’t think you could have picked a prettier place.”

“It was a safe spot for it was highly unlikely anyone would come looking. Still, I was here when mother found me. She sat right there,” he nodded to the space across from them, “and told me it was alright to be different. If Thor was bigger and stronger than I, it didn’t make me any less of a person. I had gifts and abilities in other areas where he was lacking. Of course, I did not believe her, being petulant and pouting like the seven-year-old I was and rather desperate to emulate my older brother, but she was unmoved by my attitude. Instead, she took my hands in hers and said I was special. That my future and what I made of it was up to me. And that is when she told me the one and only bit of foresight she ever revealed. She told me I would have a great gift of seiðr and I would do incredible things. Then, she took my hand in hers.”

He collected Lauren’s hand, placing it so it was palm up in his own.

“Mother’s magic was a shining gold, so beautiful. She called forth a tiny flame and set it...” He paused before he finished and looked at her, looked her in the eyes for one long, incredibly intense moment before a sly smirk curled his lips. There was a small flame of green magic, no bigger than a match would produce, dancing on the tip of his index finger.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured.

Lauren did so, something in his telling her not to question him in this. The sudden silence of the dense thicket seemed to hum in her ears. Loki’s warmth radiated up from her perch on his lap and through her back where his arm and body supported her. There was a tenseness to the air, almost as if it were holding its breath. Waiting. Watching. For what, she didn’t know.

Then, she felt the tingle on her palm when his finger stroked the center of it. Warmth spread outwards, licking and flowing over her skin and she gasped softly.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered, his breath washing over her ear right before his nose nuzzled against her cheek.

The light was bright as if the sun truly did shine within their yellow haven. Then she looked down.

“Oh, my stars!” She jerked back, but Loki’s hand kept hers in his, and his arms were tight around her waist.

In the open palm of her hand danced a slightly larger green flame but in its heart twisted a tendril of purple.

“I… I…. Loki… I.” She whimpered, unable to believe what her eyes were showing her.

The fingers of his free hand trailed through the flame, made it flicker and sway, and curl around him. “There… is your magic.”

She burst into tears.

Loki’s hand closed down on hers snuffing out the flame before he tenderly cupped her cheek. “Easy, my love. There is no need to cry. This is wonderful.”

“It’s… not that,” she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Then what?” he asked, brushing the tears from her cheeks and the hair from her face.

“Every time… I turn around… you make me… special!”

“Oh, darling,” he chuckled softly even as he soothed her with gentle touches and lowered her down into the flowers. “You are special. Have always been special.”

She hiccuped, snuffled, and tangled her fingers in his hair. “Not like this.”

“Exactly like this.” He traced his fingers over her cheek. “You have always had magic. It is in your very blood and bones. When mother performed this little test with me, my magic appeared in the middle of hers, and I was so excited. She told me then if I’d been unable to wield seiðr, the flame would have sputtered and died. After, when I was learning from her, I saw her perform the same test with any number of prospective students. Many failed.”

“I still don’t understand where it came from,” she murmured. “Or what to do with it.”

“For now, you do nothing. It will take time to see where your gifts and abilities lie. Until then, we wait.” His fingers had trailed down to her lips.

Lauren watched his eyes darken as he stared at her mouth. His thumb rubbed along her bottom lip, pulled gently, and she licked the tip when it delved a little deeper.

“If I guaranteed no one would be the wiser, would you allow me to make love to you right here where your magic and my magic were first made manifest?” he asked softly.

“You know I would,” she whispered and tightened her arms to encourage him down to her.

Passion and desire filled Lauren’s veins, sending liquid heat singing to her loins when he brushed his mouth over hers. The tenderness was only matched by the gentleness of his touch. He cupped her breast through her gown, his thumb finding the peak with ease, sending tiny bolts of pleasure streaking through her.

“Loki,” she sighed when his mouth journeyed down her throat. She turned her head to give him access to the sensitive place on her neck, right over her pulse. The spot he liked to scrape his teeth and suck on, only to jolt when her gaze connected with another's. “Socks!”

Loki jerked his head up and then growled when he spied the kitten watching just inches away. “Perhaps bringing you along was not such a smart plan.”

Lauren giggled and held out her hand. “C’mon, kitty kitty.”

“Seriously?” he huffed. “You’re going to encourage this atrocious behaviour?”

“What atrocious behaviour?” she asked as she scratched the kitten’s chin.

“He is quite interrupting,” Loki whined, tucking his face against her neck even as his thigh slid between her own. “I was most inclined to play with a pussy of a different variety.”

“Loki!” Lauren gasped, only to giggle and pull away when he nibbled on her neck. “Ah! That tickles!”

“That’s why I did it.” His grin was wide and cheeky, not at all as put out as he’d pretended to sound. “Perhaps we should raincheck this moment for a day when we do not have an audience?”

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed. “Though it really is so beautiful here.”

He propped himself on an elbow and gazed down at her. “I have not thought of this place and that memory in so long. Yet, I can almost feel her, Frigga, here. I can practically see her sitting there, assuring me I would do great things. Her love…”

He swallowed hard, and Lauren lifted her hand to turn his chin. “She’s still with you, elskan min. Even now she smiles down on you. I just know she does.”

“She would have adored you,” he murmured, staring again. “By the Norns you are beautiful. The flowers pale in comparison.”

“You flatter me, sir,” she chuckled, blushing pink even though she should be well used to his compliments by now.

Socks took that moment to pounce on his fingers. “Impatient little scamp,” Loki chuckled and bowled the kitten to his back. “We are going, we are going.”

“Where to next?” Lauren asked as he helped her to her feet. The flowers sprang up like they’d never been crushed, leaving her shaking her head in amazement.

“Mother’s garden. There are the Voktere to meet after all.” He held back the flowers and led her out of their private bower, back onto the path while the kitten went back to menacing the hem of her jacket.

“The little dragons! I’d nearly forgotten,” she said excitedly. “And then… maybe the barns?” Lauren looked up at him coyly through her lashes only to have him burst out laughing.

“I knew you would be all for the barns! I will do my utmost to get us to the barns before Thor comes searching to tell us father is looking for us.”

Lauren bit her lip. “I’m a little nervous meetin’ him. Odin is such a forbbin’ character in most of the stories I’ve heard, either from Thor or yourself. Or even outta those poetic eddas.”

“Do not believe everything you read, darling. After all, look at all that is written about me. Much is fabricated by men who drank poorly made mead,” he snickered. “Father can be formidable, but not to you. He will love you for who you are to me. Then he will love you even more once he knows you for you.”

She glanced up at him. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am.” He motioned down another path which led to an iron gate at the end of a walkway enclosed in leafy branches.

Through the gate, Lauren could see green pathways and arbours covered in roses. Stones encased in moss appeared as giant monoliths, and she inhaled deeply for the scent was intoxicating. “Oh, wow.”

“Mother loved her garden. The hedge maze I created for the party sits just to the left of the gate, and the tree with the Fortryllende flowers grows in its center.”

He swung the gate open, and Lauren walked beneath the arbour full of massive blooms. “Look at the size of them!” she exclaimed, touching one enormous flower.

Loki reached up and broke one perfect rose from the bush, stripped it of thorns, and tucked it behind her ear. “There. You should always have flowers in your hair.”

She laughed and took his hand to tug him inside. The gate swung shut with a clang, sending Socks darting further down the path. “He’s so silly! I forgot how fun kittens were.” Felix was well past the kitten stage and had been for some time.

“He is rather amusing,” Loki smirked fondly at the little rascal.

“Loki?” Thor’s deep voice resonated behind them as the God of Thunder came through the gate. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Though soft, Lauren could hear Loki’s sigh and guessed their reprieve was at an end. “And now you have found me, brother,” he said.

“Father is looking for you. He wishes to meet my exquisite sister.” Thor smiled and shook his head. “You outdo yourself, brother. The women of Asgard will be beating down the door of every seamstress in town to have such exquisite gowns created. Though I doubt any women would do your designs justice besides your stunning Ástvinur.”

She tried to do as Thor had been encouraging her only the day before and accept the praise gracefully, but a blush still warmed her cheeks. “Thank you, Thor.”

“And where would he like to hold this introduction?” Loki asked.

“Where do you think?” Thor sighed.

“Throne room. A spectacle then, hmm?”

Lauren didn’t like the sound of that. “Maybe I should get Socks,” she murmured, turning in time to see the kitten scamper around the corner of the path leading away from the hedge maze. “I’ll be right back.” She patted Loki’s arm when he nodded.

“Socks?” she heard Thor ask, but missed whatever Loki’s reply was.

Hurrying after her fleeing feline, Lauren rounded the corner in time to see him rush between the feet of an elderly man, causing him to stumble and fall, sending a basket full of weeds and clippings to scatter across the ground.

“Oh, my! Bad kitty!” she huffed, rushing forward to crouch down at what she assumed was the gardener’s side. “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? Let me help you.”

“No. No need,” he protested, shaking his head of snowy white hair. “A fine lady like yourself will ruin her dress kneeling in the dirt with me.”

Lauren gave an inelegant snort. “What do I care about a dress if you’re hurt?” She helped him to sit gingerly in the grass. “Are you alright? I can call for help if you aren’t. I’m so sorry my kitten tripped you up.”

He lifted his head, and she noticed the simple white eye patch. Lack of depth perception combined with the antics of a curious kitten could have definitely caused his fall.

“I’m fine, my lady. You shouldn’t trouble yourself.”

His colour seemed okay, but she still worried. “Let me at least help you to that bench and pick up all this. I’d hate for you to get in trouble for a mess not of your makin’.”

“A lady shouldn’t be picking up weeds and cleaning up after old men,” he grumbled.

“Sir, I’ll have you know I’ve been pullin’ weeds, pickin’ and plantin’ gardens, and carin’ for others since I was no bigger than a grasshopper.” Lauren pushed to her feet and gingerly helped him to his. “If that pushes me out of contention for bein’ a lady, well, so be it.”

“Strange indeed for a woman of stature.”

“And why would you think I had any such standin’ here?” she asked as she helped him shuffle toward the bench, curious to know how he’d jumped to lady so quickly.

“Besides your dress?” he chuckled a little. “None but the most revered may walk the former Queen’s garden, which means you are either a guest of his Majesty the King, or his Highness the Prince.”

“How astute,” Lauren giggled and helped him sit again before rushing to clean up the basket which had spilled.

“Did you really weed and work in a garden?” he asked.

“I did. My gran’s in fact. She has a beautiful one, and I enjoyed every minute I spent with her.” She scooped up the last of the weeds and returned the basket to his side where she crouched down at his knee. “Are you certain you’re okay?”

He patted her hand. “It isn’t the first time this old man has taken a tumble. I will be fine. You are an astounding young woman.”

“Then I shouldn’t shock you further by tellin’ you how I’ve even gone so far as to muck out a few stalls in my day?” She laughed outright at his scandalized expression.

“Now I have seen everything!” he gasped, but she could tell he was only kidding.

“I’m Lauren,” she said, holding out her hand.

He stood with grace and ease, and the appearance of an elderly old man fell away, replaced by regal grandeur when his casual clothing became silk and armour and the eyepatch disappeared to become one of carved gold. “Odin, though most call me All-father.”

Lauren blanched and fell on her ass. “Loki!”

***

Her shriek sent his heart to his throat. Having been speaking of the kitten Thor had, indeed, gifted her, they turned as one and charged down the path after Lauren. When he rounded the corner to find her pale at the feet of his father, Loki knew nothing but anger.

“How dare you! I denied you this morning so now you choose to conduct some unsavoury ruse to meet her without me?” Loki barked stepping between them.

“Do not flatter yourself, boy. I was already here and simply took the opportunity presented when she arrived unescorted.”

The condemnation in his father’s voice put his back up. “I assumed she could walk in mother's garden without harassment, or have things changed so much that even in this sanctuary I must be ever vigilant?”

Odin’s anger coated his face. “You must always be vigilant! If she had come to harm because you were inattentive, it would be us who suffered for your failing!”

“Now hold on just one gall darn moment!” Lauren snapped.

Loki turned to find Thor had helped her to her feet, but she brushed him off and stepped around Loki to stand to toe with Odin

“Y’all have some nerve blamin’ him for havin’ faith in you! He talks about Frigga’s garden like it's Eden. How were either of us to know y’all would be lurkin’ round the corner hopin’ to make a fool of the new girl who doesn’t know any better? He does an amazin’ job of protectin’ me, and you have no call to judge him poorly for that!”

Odin looked stunned for one long moment before he spoke again. “He did not do such an amazing job last eve, or you would not have arrived here in need of healing.”

She stiffened and paled again, the colour leaching from her face before rushing back in an angry flush. “That ain't fair! Do you even know what happened? Have you thought to ask? To find out the mistake made was mine, not his? NO!” she bellowed before he could answer. “Cause y’all are too busy thinkin’ the worst of him, like usual, to even contemplate another scenario! You, sir, are no better than a bully. And if this is how you speak to and treat a man you claim as your son, I highly doubt you, and I will have anythin’ more to say to one another.”

She bent to pick up the kitten who spat a hiss at Odin, lifted her chin, glared down her nose, and walked away. “Loki, love. I'll be over here when y’all are finished.”

The three of them watched her stomp away to sit on a flat stone bench out of earshot where she picked a blade of long grass and used it to entertain the kitten.

Only Loki knew how utterly mortified and upset she was. No one would know for looking at her, but inside she shook with agitation.

“My Ástvinur, Father. Well done,” Loki muttered.

“I did tell you she is a spitfire when it comes to Loki’s defence,” Thor chuckled. “You made quite the first impression. Whatever were you thinking?”

“I wanted to discover the real her before the court manners and fawning appeared.” Odin gazed at Lauren thoughtfully.

“You have gotten stupid in your old age,” Loki snarled.

“Brother!” Thor gasped.

But Loki was so far past angry he could no longer hold his tongue. “She is the most genuine and lovely woman. There is nothing false about her. You would have met the real her, slightly shy and nervous, worried about making a poor first impression, but still her, still my Lauren had you but given her a chance. She has no concept of court manners and even less ability to be false in her honesty! How dare you ruin this for her!”

“She has made a rather impressive first impression,” Odin murmured, a smile pulling at his lips. “Frigga would have loved her simply because she gave me hell.” He looked at Thor. “She is stronger than I expected. More so even than your Jane.”

Thor flinched. “She is not my Jane any longer, Father, as you well know. But yes, Lauren is a force to be reckoned with.”

“I don't think anyone has ever called me a bully before,” Odin murmured, the little smile growing.

“Not to your face at least,” Loki muttered, calming slightly, now more concerned with Lauren’s growing anxiety.

His father huffed at him. “I was impressed by her, Loki. She offered assistance without hesitation, disregarded my concern when I said she'd sully her gown, then cleaned as no lady of Asgard ever would. She got her hands dirty without thought,” Odin murmured. “You cannot fault me for wanting a true reading on the woman who will be my son’s salvation. Or for engineering a meeting without expectation when the opportunity arose.”

“She will not be my salvation, Father. She already is.” Loki looked from Lauren to Odin and watched the realization crossed his face.

“Already?”

He'd never heard awe lace his father's voice before. “It took three days for her to complete the binding.”

“She is a wonder to behold,” Thor chuckled.

And she was slowly worrying herself into a frenzy. “I believe you owe my wife an apology.”

It looked as if the idea tasted foul in his mouth, but Odin eventually nodded. Loki headed for her, determined to calm her racing heart before she put herself into a panic attack.

“Lauren, love?” he knelt beside her and worked to unclamp the fist she'd made in the fabric of her gown.

“Oh, my god, Loki,” she whispered. “I yelled at your daddy. I called him a bully, and I yelled at y’alls daddy. What the hell was I thinkin’?” With eyes of jade and skin as white as cream, she rocked slightly, terror invading every part of her.

“No, no, my heart. Don't be frightened. You were magnificent. Never has he been dressed down so thoroughly; except perhaps by my mother.”

“I was so rude! I can't believe I did that. He's gonna hate me, and now I've ruined everythin’,” she sniffled, brushing violently at the tear sliding down her cheek. “Why can't I ever think before I speak?”

“Darling.” He cupped her wobbling chin. “You are a truth speaker. Sometimes these things will just... come out. And he does not hate you. Odin was impressed by you.”

She blinked at him, and her mouth fell open. “Whatever for?”

Every so often her insecurities were so blindingly apparent, they hurt his heart to see. “For everything that you are. For everything that I see in you. Your tender heart full of compassion. Your sweet, caring nature. Your willingness to help no matter the circumstance. And for your fierceness, my love. The soul deep protectiveness you offer to all those who you deem yours. There is a heart of a Marok wolf inside you. When she appears, you're magnificent in your defence.”

“But I yelled at him! A former King!”

“Yes, you did. It was quite amusing,” he chuckled, or at least it was now.

“Peaches!” she huffed, appearing mortified.

“Not many will stand up to him, my love. That you did, knowing who he is, it shows your not a blithering idiot here to simper and fawn and curry favour. You are a strong woman willing to stand up for your beliefs and stand in front of those you love. What more could a father look for in the woman who is the heart of his son?” He reached for her throat and lifted the torque from beneath her dress, laying it flat against the fabric for his father to see. “Come. Meet him again. He owes you an apology.”

“Why would I curry favour?” she asked softly, bringing the purring kitten up to her chin. “I didn't even want a title.”

“Yes, well, you are an oddity in that area, pet,” he snickered and rose to his feet to tug her up with him.

“Oh hush!” she huffed. “I'm not odd.”

“Maybe just a little. After all, what little girl didn't grow up wanting to be a princess?”

She smiled smugly up at him and murmured, “The kind who'd rather have a wolf than a prince.”

“Aren't you fortunate I just happen to be both,” he crooned and kissed her possessively, needing the taste of her on his lips and tongue to wash away the anger his father had induced.

The scent of her perfume filled his head, and he drowned in it, becoming drunk on her in seconds. Her free hand skimmed up his chest, her nails scratching lightly at the space between his collars, before landing softly on the side of his neck. They flexed gently as he kissed her, soothed her, worshiped every inch of her mouth. He was so incredibly hers at that moment he felt rooted like a tree, swaying in the breeze of her wind, drifting with her in a dance as old as time.

When, finally, she broke the sweet kiss to gasp for air, Loki remembered their audience and glanced toward his brother. Thor’s look of longing had little to do with Lauren and all to do with him missing the intimacy of a relationship. For the first time, it occurred to Loki that Thor was likely lonely for the companionship he’d once shared with Jane. He may have friends, but a tankard of ale and a belly full of laughs couldn’t compare to the warmth of a woman well loved in one’s bed.

A glance at his father showed a sad smile, a wistfulness as memories of long ago, and a woman as glorious as Loki’s own, played out before his father’s eyes. Frigga’s death had been hardest on him, but he never let anyone see the aftermath… until now.

Gathering Lauren close beneath his arm, Loki led her toward what remained of his family. Her trembling was apparent to him, but he did not think it translated to the others. Other than her downcast eyes and pale face, there was little to show her nerves.

“My heart,” he murmured and kissed her temple. “Everything will be fine.”

She exhaled and lifted her chin. “I believe you, peaches.”

He hummed his approval and sent his father a warning look. It only seemed to amuse Odin whose smirk grew with every step Loki took until they stood again with his brother and father. “Lauren, elskan min, may I introduce you to Odin, the All-father and former King of Asgard. Father, my Ástvinur, Lauren Annandale now… Odinson.”

Odin’s gaze darted to his before returning to Lauren when he held out his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, dear one. I apologize if my behaviour upset you.”

“Nice to meet you,” she murmured, placing her hand in his. “That’s alright. You just… startled me is all. When Loki grumbled about people fallin’ at my feet, I didn’t expect you to be the first one.”

Odin gave a bark of surprised laughter. “Well, with how lovely you are, I am not surprised he’s concerned. A beautiful young woman can cause even the oldest of men to make fools of themselves.” He lifted Lauren’s knuckles to his lips, causing her to blush.

“I can see where your sons get their skills of flattery from,” Lauren chuckled.

Odin drew her out from under Loki’s arm and onto his own where he admired her torque for a long moment before heading out of Frigga’s garden. “How do you like our humble home so far?”

“It’s beautiful and far from humble. Though I’d really like to see the horses,” she said, sending a sly glance over her shoulder that had Loki smirking.

“It is not my fault we were interrupted in our tour,” he quipped.  

“Horses?” Odin snickered. “We have the grandeur of the nine realms at your disposal, bazaars and tradesmen, the finest of food and drink, but it is the stables you wish to see?”

“I love horses,” Lauren said softly. “At home, daddy raises racehorses. I’ve been around them all my life.”

“Did Loki speak of my steed? Sleipnir.”

“The horse with eight legs?” Lauren laughed when Odin nodded. “He wouldn’t need to! I’ve known about him since I was old enough to read fables. Does he really have eight legs?”

“Why don’t we go see for yourself?” Odin chuckled and led the way.

Loki listened to them chatter, Lauren growing more excited with every step, while he and Thor trailed in their wake. It gave Loki the opportunity to study the people hovering, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman he’d brought home. He hadn’t lied when he’d said the women were disbelieving of her origins on Midgard, or that the men were jealous, but there was more to it than that. More than one set of eyes looked at her with lust and intrigue, especially now that she held Odin’s arm like she belonged there, the two of them laughing together as if they’d been acquainted for years not moments.

Her easy acceptance and forgiveness amazed him as it always did, but such was her way. She gave chance after chance. Her sisters were proof of that.

“Well, that ended better than I’d hoped,” Thor murmured.

“Did you know he was already there?” Loki asked.

Thor shook his head. “I did not.”

“Hm.”

“Have you thought any more on asking him of her background? If he knows anything?”

“I have not… but,” he paused, uncertain if he should tell Thor or not.

“But?”

He hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “I gave her the seiðr test.”

“And?” Thor asked excitedly.

“She passed.”

“Not at all surprising,” Thor chuckled. “You saw the spark. The flame was sure to ignite. But how did she take the news?”

“She cried,” Loki smiled as she bent her head toward Odin. “She’s so special but has such a hard time seeing it.”

Thor clapped a hand down on his shoulder. “She will, brother. We will make certain of it.”

“Yes,” Loki murmured, watching her laugh at whatever Odin had told her. “We will.”

Next Chapter

[plaidstiel-wormstache]

Figure It Out

I’m planning on writing a part 2 to this, which is based off a long and ongoing conversation with my soul-sister @notnaturalanahi - thank you for putting up with me!

Warnings: talk of vagina’s, fingering (not like that), a little fooling around, an awkward convo, unbeta’d, a hint of smut at the end. Characters: YN x Sam, Dean, Mary AN: This gif is my summary:

“I need to go!” Dean yelled, banging on the bathroom door. “Not like there are eight thousand others!” I countered, glaring at the locked door and waiting for the older Winchester to walk away before resuming my mission.

I took a deep breath and squatted down again, resting my head against the bottom cupboard and reaching between my legs. I let out half a chuckle when I felt the leftover remains of my morning… exercise. I breathed out nice and slow as then slid my index finger between my lips, paying close attention to what I was feeling.

Ridge, walls, wet, was that… no, pelvic bone. It’ll feel like a … could this, is that… maybe? I realized I was a finger deep and still wasn't sure if I had found my cervix. How had I made it to 27 and never felt my cervix before, or noticed if I had. Was it meant to sit forward or back? Is it around the pelvic bone or straight up? I took a deep breath and withdrew my finger, straightening to standing before washing my hands and then pulling my pants up.

“You okay?” Sam asked as I walked through our bedroom door, still deep in thought. I dropped down onto the bed and pulled my laptop off the bedside table. “YNN?” He tried again, nudging my side. “Hmm?” I hummed, turning my attention to him while the screen loaded. “You okay?” He asked again. “Yeah, fine, just… thinking.” I selected the internet browser and opened the tab I had been reading before. “Mary home?” I questioned as an afterthought. “Uhh, she's about to head out.” Sam said, looking over my shoulder at the browser. I shoved the computer off my lap and dashed from the room.

“Mary?” I called out into the bunker. “Where's the fire?” Dean said as I ran past the kitchen. “Why, need to piss on it?” I called back.

“Mary!” I yelled as I heard the slam of the car door in the garage. “What's up?” She said, hopping back out of the car as I ran toward her. “Can I ask you a bit of an odd and personal question?” I was suddenly rethinking my decision to ask her. “Are you okay?” She asked, holding my bicep and looking me over. “Oh yeah, I'm-- it's more a female question.” I explained, watching her closely to see if she was gonna shy away from the topic. “Umm, okay, yeah, shoot.” She said, squaring her shoulders and mentally preparing herself for whatever question I may throw at her. “Okay, so, the cervix… what's it meant to feel like? Cause I ain't feeling no donut nose.” I blurted, better to get it all out than drag it out. Mary’s eyes bugged as she choked, but she shifted from one foot to the other and in a move that was so minute I’m sure I made it up - she bent her knees ever so slightly and her finger twitched as her eyes flirted upwards in thought.

“Okay, so, it should feel firm but wet. It's like if you put oil on the end of your nose, that cartilage feel.” She explained. She as doing a great job at this mother 'daughter’ thing. “Is it past your pubic bone?” I asked, feeling like this was a game of chicken. Each of us would keep talking till the other finally shied away from the topic. “Well, kinda,” she shifted feet again, “It all depends on you. Everyone's different.” She shrugged, giving me a sympathetic expression. “Right, I know that but-- well I suppose I felt it. I'm just… yeah.” It was my turn to shrug, and in a move that was entirely Sam’s, I ran a hand through my hair, scratching at the back of my neck. “What's this about, sweetheart?” “Oh it's silly. I'm investing in a mooncup and you gotta kinda know where your cervix is to know which size you need.” I explained. “A mooncup?” She questioned, eyebrows raised. “Oh, of course,” I said as if I'd forgotten she had been resurrected from the dead a couple of months ago. “It's a silicone cup that you insert, instead of wearing pads or tampons, good for the environment, good for you and good for hunts!” I said with a smile and a nod! “Right, well, if you were finger deep, then you don't need a short one. So I wouldn't worry further!” She said with a laugh, pulling me in for a hug. “Thanks Mary, I appreciate you being so… open!” I wanted to thank her for accepting me as soon as I met her, for treating me like one of her own. “Any time!” She smiled and sunk back down into the driver's seat. I pushed the door closed for her and told her to be safe before she took off.

I plonked back down on the bed next to Sam, pulling my laptop back across my lap. “What was that about?” Sam asked, putting his book down and looking across at me. “Women’s business.” I stated, typing the PO box into the website and then entering one of the credit cards I had memorized. Sam, meanwhile, had begun to trace his hand up my leg, his fingertips brushing the insides of my thigh. “And I can't help?” He asked, leaning into me, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, slowly moving his lips to my neck. “Nope, all figured. I think.” I said, a sense of pride surging through me as I hit purchase. “You sure?” Sam asked, his long fingers pushing at the laptop from underneath, trying to get me to close it. And Sam’s powers of persuasion would only get stronger; so I stowed my laptop and turned my attention to him. He planted a chaste kiss to my lips, one that left me chasing his lips and him chuckling deep in his chest. I pulled back and studied his expression. “You read the page, didn't you?” I asked, Sam was one for study and research, no matter the topic. Always the scholar. “Maybe.” He murmured into my skin. “I can find your cervix for you.” “Sam!” I squealed, pushing his hand away from the button on my shorts. “I know where everything else is!” He chuckled, pinning me to the bed as he rolled on top of me. I couldn't help the smile and wiggle of my hips against his. “Wouldn't be a correct size guide anyway, you're fingers are abnormally long.” I murmured against his kiss as his hand began to wander south again. “You've never complained about my abnormal length before!” He teased, pushing his hips forward and the next thought from my mind.

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing @mrsbatesmotel53 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @whispersandwhiskerburn @akshi8278 @dont-trust-humanity @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @redlipstickandplaid @lipstickandwhiskey @jensen-jarpad @avasmommy224 @munlis @arryn-nyxx @autopistaaningunaparte @babypieandwhiskey @beckawinchester @blacktithe7 @bringmesomepie56 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @charliebradbury1104 @chvalkenberg95 @clairese1980 @dancingalone21 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @fandoms-are-the-best-escape @frenchybell @gabby913 @grace-for-sale @green-love-red-fantasyhearts @hasta-impalasta @i-like-your-assbutt @ilostmyshoe-79 @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @iwriteaboutdean @jalove-wecallhimdean @kazchester-fanfiction @kristaparadowski @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @lucifer-in-leather @lucis-unicorn @melonberri @manawhaat @mogarukes @mrswhozeewhatsis @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @oriona75 @ruprecht0420 @sdavid09 @sherloki-moriartea @thegreatficmaster @waywardjoy  @wheresthekillswitch @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @wi-deangirl77 @wideawakeandwriting @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @maddieburcham1 @captainemwinchester @samwinjarpad @kittenofdoomage @room-with-a-cat @atc74 @katymacsupernatural @clairese1980 @emoryhemsworth

[ademonandherbentley]

We Don’t Play By Your Rules (But a Guidebook Might Be Nice)

Written for the @spnpolybingo

Square: Bela x Ruby x Sam Word count: 1,983 Pairing(s): RubyxSam, Queerplatonic!BelaxRuby Rating: Gen Summary: She wasn’t in love with Ruby. She’d never been in love with anyone and suspected that she never would be and she had no objection to Sam at all. But she was also feeling possessive of Ruby in ways that just a friend had no business feeling and she was at a loss for what to do about it. Human!AU.

Bela heard Ruby before she saw her. She sighed, lifting her cup to her lips and resisting the urge to duck under the table. Ruby knew she was here and wasn’t likely to take the hint.

Ruby’s voice got louder as she approached, apparently arguing with whichever poor waiter had made the mistake of accosting her at the entrance. Bela set her cup back down and secured her most diplomatic smile, and a second later the pair were rounding the corner.

“Talbot!” Ruby made her way over and threw herself down into the opposite chair. The waiter hurried up behind her, “Is this woman a friend of yours miss?”

“Regrettably,” Bela said and Ruby stuck out her tongue. “I apologise for the commotion, Charles, I’ll deal with her.”

“Not at all, miss Talbot. Can I get you anything else?”

“That’ll be all, thank you.”

Ruby watched, smirking, as he retreated, “I was half expecting him to bow.”

“They look after their loyal customers here, Ruby. Take even better care of their regulars. In return they expect a certain standard of conduct and presentation.” Bela glanced pointedly at Ruby’s leather jacket and jeans.

Ruby snorted and swung her legs over the arm of her chair. A couple in their 60s seated across from her gave them both scandalised looks and Ruby waved back cheerily. Bela pursed her lips, annoyance warring with amusement. “If you despise this place as much as you claim to then why are you here?”

“Well, if Mohammed gonna hide from the mountain in fancy tea rooms then the mountain’s gotta brave the tweed and china.”

“I’m not hiding from you.”

Ruby stared at her, “You’ve been avoiding me, Talbot, do you really think I haven’t noticed? You’ve barely been home recently.”

Bela looked away, taking another sip of tea. She had been aware of how painfully obvious she was being but hadn’t known what else to do. She’d unprepared for all of this.

She hated being unprepared.

“It’s Sam, isn’t it?”

Bela swallowed, still avoiding Ruby’s gaze. “Whatever makes you say that?”

Ruby groaned in frustration, attracting another flurry of disapproving stares, “My God, Bels, am I gonna have to beat it out of you? ‘Cause I will. I’ll knock your front teeth straight into Grandma Tightass’s soup if I have to.” She shot another look over her shoulder at the old couple, who were now whispering angrily to each other.

Bela grinned, “I don’t doubt you. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t, I have a reputation here I’d like to hold onto.”

“Of course you do, where don’t you have a reputation.”

Bela raised one eyebrow, declining to comment. Ruby could scoff if she wanted to – pretend she didn’t put a lot of work into making sure everyone she encountered thought she was one bottle of scotch away from a major felony. They had known each other far too long for her to get anything past Bela.

Unfortunately, the reverse was also true.

“Come on, Bels,” Ruby swung her legs back around and leant forward, expression suddenly earnest, “nothing so bad you can’t tell me about it, remember?”

“I don’t-” Bela swallowed again, clamping down on the emotions roiling inside her; emotions she couldn’t even put a name to. “I have nothing against Sam. Certainly not after that débâcle with Lilith.”

“Hey, you call it a débâcle, I call it Saturday night.”

“It lasted three months and she’s still in jail.”

Ruby made a dismissive noise and Bela grinned again. Sometimes she truly envied Ruby’s screw you attitude.

“And in any case, it’s none of my business who you date.”

“No,” Ruby said, “but… you’d like it to be.” She was hedging, Bela could tell. Poking round in suspicions until she found truth.

“I have no interest in controlling you, Ruby, you’re not one of my contacts.”

“Not what I meant.” She hesitated. “You in love with me, Bels?”

Finally, Bela looked back at her. Ruby’s face was carefully neutral, body angled towards her. Bela realised she was braced for anything she might throw at her, and felt something warm tugging in her chest.

She said, “No. No, I don’t think I am.”

Ruby nodded as if that was the answer she’d been expecting.

Bela sighed, “I think normally that’s the end of the conversation.”

“Normally,” Ruby agreed, “but hey. This is us.”

And isn’t that exactly the problem? Bela thought. Neither she nor Ruby had ever bothered with much introspection when it came to their relationship – sure, they had never quite fitted the typical moulds of 'best friends’ and 'room mates’ but they were both unconventional people and really, what did it matter?

It hadn’t mattered. Not until Sam Winchester had come along and then, unlike anyone before him, stayed around. Not until Ruby had started talking about him and looking at him in ways that Bela could only interpret one way.

She wasn’t in love with Ruby. She’d never been in love with anyone and suspected that she never would be and she had no objection to Sam at all. But she was also feeling possessive of Ruby in ways that just a friend had no business feeling and she was at a loss for what to do about it.

She cleared her throat, “I’m not going to try and get in the way of you and Sam.”

“Of course you’re not,” Ruby said, “you’d never be so undignified. But you don’t have to be such a martyr, Talbot.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you think I followed you here to let you down easy? You know I don’t do that.”

“No, you don’t.”

It was Ruby’s turn to clear her throat. She leant back and pushed her hair out of her eyes, “I was talking to Sam the other day. About, y'know, plans and stuff.”

Bela raised her eyebrows in surprise. Ruby never had plans with anyone.

She continued, “He’ll be done with his PhD next year. He’s been looking for jobs out in Kansas, says he wants to be closer to his family.”

“And he wants you to come with him.” Bela felt her stomach drop. Kansas was hundreds of miles away.

“Yeah, he does.” A smile chased itself across Ruby’s lips, “and hey, not like this dump has anything left to offer me. Should be an easy sell right?”

Bela said nothing.

“And I wanna say yes, believe me I do. Sam, he’s… he’s our brand of screwed up, you know? But whenever I imagine doing it there’s only one thing I can think.”

“Which is?”

“Not without you.”

Ruby wasn’t meeting her eyes any more but Bela found she couldn’t look away. She took a deep breath, “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

The corner of Ruby’s mouth hitched up in a smile. “Don’t you think I’d have made a move already if I were? No, I’m not in love with you.”

Bela found that that was a relief. Romance was messy, not something she wanted to ensnare herself in and not what she and Ruby needed in their relationship (whatever the hell that was).

“I told Sam all this,” Ruby said, interrupting her thoughts, “he thinks we can work something out. Between the three of us, I mean.”

“The three of us?” Bela asked.

“Look, Bels, I used to think I knew what was going on between us, turns out I don’t have a clue. But whatever we are…” she shifted in her chair, gaze fixed on the table in front of her, “I don’t wanna leave you behind. Not for Sam, not for anybody. I want our bedrooms to be down the hall from each other until we’re old and grey and rigging the bingo games in the retirement home, alright?”

“And… Sam’s okay with this as well?”

“Yeah. If you wanted to tag along with us to Kansas he’d be cool with that. I know you’ve built your little empire here but-”

“I can build connections anywhere,” Bela interrupted. Something that felt suspiciously like hope was stirring in her. Whatever fallout she’d been anticipating it hadn’t been anything like this.

“Are you saying you’ll stick with me?” Ruby met her eyes for a brief moment and Bela finally noticed that she was holding herself rigid, one hand dancing anxiously on her leg. She smiled; the proper, full smile that only Ruby could ever draw out of her.

“If that’s what you want, yes Ruby. I’ll stick with you.”

“Cool.” Ruby glanced away but not before Bela caught the start of her biggest smile. “That’s cool. Glad we could work this out.”

“Me too.” She didn’t think she’d ever been as sincere in her life.

“And you know,” Ruby shrugged nonchalantly, “I travel a lot. If you and Sam ever wanted to hook up or something while I was away, I’d be alright with that.”

Bela stared at her, “Seriously?”

“I’m a big girl, Talbot, I know how to share,” Ruby winked at her and Bela found herself abruptly stifling laughter.

The apartment in Lebanon was open-plan; spacious and high-ceilinged. Sliding windows ran the length of one of the lounge walls, opening up onto a balcony that overlooked a stunning city vista.

None of them had quite been prepared for just how much three combined pay cheques could buy.

Their first night settling in they strewed their boxes across the open stretch of pine wood that spanned the lounge to the kitchen and curled in front of the TV with Chinese food. Bela and Sam wielded chopsticks with efficient grace. Ruby ate rice straight out of the delivery container with a serving spoon.

“I’ll get you to learn how to use these one day,” Sam told her, poking her in the arm with a chop stick.

“Believe me Sam, it’s a wasted effort,” Bela told him, “If I couldn’t train her I doubt you’ll succeed.”

“The food gets to my mouth, what’s the problem?”

“It’s improper.” Bela said. Sam snorted and she lifted a shoulder in acknowledgement that that had, given the women she was talking to, been completely the wrong argument.

“So is jewellery theft,” Ruby said through a mouthful of rice.

Sam whipped around to look at Bela, “I knew you were lying about that robbery!”

“Yeah and how many others,” Ruby said.

Bela rolled her eyes, “Are we really going to have this discussion, Sam? Do you think my friends back home didn’t know all about your brothers past dabbling in identity fraud? Not to mention your involvement?”

Sam narrowed his eyes at her, then seemed to relent and returned his attention to his food, “Yeah okay. You’re not planning on holding up anywhere around here are you?”

“Don’t be absurd, Sam.”

“Good.”

“We’ve only just arrived. It’ll be at least a couple of weeks before I’ve gathered enough intelligence to start planning anything like that.” She winked at him and he flicked a grain of rice in her direction.

“Children, please.” Ruby chastised.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Bela replied.

“Whatever.” Ruby curled into Sam’s side, pushing her bare feet under Bela’s leg. Bela made a show of rolling her eyes even as she shifted to accommodate her, then they all lapsed into silence, focussed on their food.

It was odd, Bela had decided; three people with such chequered personal lives moving to a small Midwestern town to play house together. Perhaps odder still that she was one them, an irregularity interrupting an otherwise closed romantic circuit. Pushing them even further from normal.

Then again, maybe none of them would survive normal even if they wanted it. Maybe that was what made them work so well.

She leant over and snagged the last spring roll, pointedly ignoring Sam’s noise of protest. The three of them had a house to organise and after that…

After that they had a town to run.