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hunnysnoops · 27 days

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White Teeth Teens

Chapter Two: Favour

Kyle Broflovski x fem reader

I used to think about myself like I was a talented liar.

Premise: You’ve been avoiding Kyle like the plague but when tragedy strikes the track team, you find yourself needing to ask him for a favour, you know what you have to do but you don’t want to do it.

CW: Vulgar language+humour / underage smoking / injury

MASTERLIST

The weather had gone straight back to shit just like you predicted. You prayed that track practice would be cancelled due to the roaring sky overhead but god ignored you, turning a blind eye and offering nothing more than your coach nagging at you.

Rain wasn't any nicer to run in than overbearing and dry heat, it made you feel like a wet dog every time you had to wring your hair out or shake the droplets off your skin. It was no light sprinkle, the rain pounded down on the ground like bullets. It was so heavy that it felt like pebbles, it wasn't often that it rained in Colorado due to high altitudes but when it did, it came down hard and unwavering.

You had thought it to be a little dangerous running on turf in this weather but coach Dawsey blatantly denied any objections, sending you for another loop around the track the second you had a complaint. You were just glad that you didn't have soccer that day and wouldn't be going home covered head-to-toe in mud.

"What?" Tolkien asks you, it had been a little difficult to hear with his own breathing and the sound of rain on turf while the two of you were running cool-down laps around the outside of the track, it’s not like you needed them with the way you were freezing in the run. It was like coach Dawsey wanted the entire team to get sick, what was supposed to be a cool-down lap was working better to keep you warm.

"I said what time is it?" You repeat your question, using the heel of your palm to wipe your eyes. Each breath, huffing in droplets of rain where they rested on your lips.

"I dunno," He shrugs, "I left my watch in my bag," Everyone had either left their bags in their lockers or cars or like you, had been too lazy to do either and took the menacing odds of putting it under the bleachers and praying that whatever was inside wouldn't face water damage.

You let out a groan, at this point, you couldn't even feel your legs, they had gone numb beneath you. The sky above you was grey, it was only 4:30 in June but it looked like angry clouds had swallowed up the sun. "If the purge ever becomes legal, I'm headed straight for Dawsey." At your words, both you and Tolkien glance to where the pot-bellied coach is, timing the unfortunate guys doing hurdles, over and over again. He really had a way of actively pinning teammates against one another.

"Poor Adam," Tolkien says between heavy breaths. His tee shirt and basketball shorts are plastered against his ebony skin, you aren't much better off; your hair had been weighed down so heavily with water that it kept slipping from what you had tied it up in, so you gave up all hope and let it down to stick on your neck, flyaway hairs glued around your face to frame it. You were far from the point of caring about what you looked like, the only thing on your mind was going home and getting dried off.

"I would feel bad for him if he wasn't so whiney," On the other side of the track, Adam, a brunette guy in your grade, was extremely muscular for such a lean guy, the perfect build for track. You could've sworn that his parents had put him on steroids as a kid with how defined his muscles were, you had been on the track team with him and Tolkien for six years now.

Adam wasn't the friendliest but he was fast, so you didn't mind his shortness of conversation as long as he brought another medal to the trophy case. He is clearing the hurdles in comparison to the rest of the guys in the same heat, he made them look like paralyzed turtles.

Tolkien shrugs "Yeah but we need him to win the relay," The two of you ran past the long jump team, each and every one of them is covered in sand without fail. All of them look uncomfortable, sending you knowing glances. It was an understanding that all of you wanted to drown Coach Dawsey in the steeple chase pit.

You had been wearing Tolkien's hoodie since the rain started, it was definitely slowing you down with the extra weight it had while wet but you preferred to be slower than usual as opposed to having your white tee shirt turn translucent under the rainfall. You tended to stick together during track practice since you were on the mixed relay team together, you also liked to think that you were considered friends; not just because you ran at similar paces but because he enjoyed your company.

Disregarding Tolkien's last statement, you push some hair away from your face "I should've skipped with Red." Red was the fourth person on the mixed relay team, making up for a pretty solid roster though you tended to skip practice when she felt like it.

"I was going to but you begged me to not leave you alone."

"Because I'm not a bum who signs up for extracurriculars and skips them, don't tell her I said that," You retort "I'm trying to be a good influence." You were nearing where the hurdles were set up and Dawsey blew his whistle repeatedly, before flailing his arms rapidly and singling out one boy for having a quarter centimetre of his toe over the starting line.

"If you're trying to be a good influence maybe stop smoking your body weight in cigarettes and weed."

You narrow your eyes, giving him a firm chop in the side of his midriff. His eyes go wide and he stops in his tracks to fold over, one hand clutching where you hit him, the other supporting him on his knee to keep him standing up. "Oh my god," You slap a hand over your mouth, trying to smother a laugh “I did not mean to hit you that hard."

"Nah, you're fine, I just need a second to catch my breath," He takes a deep exhale, waving you off. You stop next to him, standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do so you just wait for him to keep moving.

"Hey!" A gruff voice calls out, travelling over the tumping rain "Is he dying?"

"No," You answer for Tolkien "He's good."

"Then get back to running!" The balding man screeched, you were surprised that the adhesive of his toupe hadn't fallen loose under the drizzle.

"Fuck you, porky," You say hooking one arm under Tolkiens to try and get the lanky boy to stand back up straight.

"What was that?" Coach narrows his eyes at you.

"I said 'I'm on it'!" You yell back, lies seeping through the gaps of your teeth. Tolkien shrugs your arm away from him, giving you a quick thumbs up before he carries on with his quick-paced steps, albeit breathing a little heavier. You were sure that Dawsey had to be putting you through some form of child abuse. "What a dickhead," You mutter to Tolkien, eyes still trained on where Dawsey focuses all of his attention on Adam.

"I'm surprised you're not used to him by now," He says "Then again you're not the most tolerant person."

"I'm totally tolerant, I love gay people."

Whatever remark Tolkien was about to say was quickly forgotten when all eyes fell on Adam. The brunette boy's heel had skidded and slipped as he jumped a hurdle, he threw his other leg out to try to catch himself. Instead of landing on the flat of his foot, his heel rolled and he was quickly sent backwards onto another boy, Emmet, Adam's calf bending in unnatural ways against the turf.

Then came the inevitable snap like a plastic ruler, the bone in his calf had broken completely in half. The impact of the stumble caused the ivory to poke through the muscle and fat of his leg. He lay on the wet surface of the track with a sickening cry, Emmet pinned beneath him screaming out in pain. Two up-and-coming track stars down in the span of thirty seconds.

"Adam!" Coach Dawsey sprinted faster than he did to the fridge toward Adam, crumbling to his knees. While the coach was focused on Adam, you were terrified for Emmet. Adam's elbow went straight into his ribs when he tumbled back into him. Emmet was frantically trying to push Adam off of him, which was no easy feat since his entire body was muscle.

"Fuck!" Emmet finally scrambles out from behind him, keeling over and clutching his torso. Everyone gathers around to watch the mortifying scene, both you and Tolkien stand at a loss for words.

"It'll be okay Adam," Dawsey sounds like he's being brought to tears, if there are any, they're washed away by the rain. He peals off his 'South Park Athletics' baseball cap like he's paying respects to a dead person, the front of his toupe comes up when he raises the hat, unknowingly exposing the peak of his shiny bald head. "We're going to get through this."

Coach tries to brush away some of the hair that had fallen onto Adam's face but the boy quickly slaps his hand away "Don't fucking touch me!" He spits "Someone call an ambulance!" Next to you, Tolkien gags at the sight of the mangled leg and split skin.

"You heard him," Coach Dawsey rises to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that his star runner's bone was sticking out of his leg in a mangled mess "Call an ambulance!" He yells, accusatorily at the group of teenagers in a circle surrounding him.

"You're the only one with a phone on you, dumb cunt!" You call out from the back of a crowd to be sure he wouldn't scope out it was you who said it.

He feels around in his pockets and surely, you're right. He made everyone leave their phones in their bags during the duration of practice. He quickly dials 911, while the line rings he looks at the crowd with furrowed eyebrows "Whoever said that, reveal yourself."

Everyone stays silent until an operator picks up on the other end.

After Chrissy drove Emmet to the hospital and Adam was rolled away into the safety of an overpriced ambulance, something else was worrying your mind now that their health was guaranteed- who was going to replace them?

"Tolkien, I have a proposition," You had taken an unnerving b-line away from Heidi and found yourself at Tolkien's table where he sat with the rest of his friends, you were already drowning in axe body spray and aftershave but you needed an impromptu meeting, dragging Red to come with you so you didn't have to face all of that testosterone alone. "Come over here," You swiftly gesture for him to come sit at a vacant table with you and Rebecca.

You spent the entire night wide awake on caffeine pills, trying to figure out who to sub in for Adam. The mixed relay team before he got injured was perfect down to every minute detail, now you were short of your fastest runner, leaving you, Tolkien, and Rebecca to fumble around for a replacement since the coach was mourning the loss of his shooting star, who was indefinitely out for at least six months. It didn't help that Adam had taken Emmet down in the process, now you were missing two great assets.

Tolkien looks back at his friends who watch him with confused and unwavering stares before pushing himself away from the table with a sigh. Leaving his lunch tray behind, he slips into the empty table next to Red and across from you. "Yeah?"

"I need you to ask Kyle to join the track team," You say, though it was difficult enough to humble yourself down into admitting you needed Kyle. He ran faster and more consistently than almost every sprinter on the team, you had plenty of girls to sub in for you and Red though with Adam dragging his sub out with him, you were left with no replacement aside from Spencer Hollis who was the other alternate and opted to go on a road trip with his friends and come back only for exams so he was out of the question with the track meet in two weeks.l

"Kyle?" Red furrows her eyebrows, tone suddenly switching "That's your solution? He's not even on the team."

"He's really fast though," You begin to plead "I've known him forever and trust me, he is one speedy little fucker, I swear on my life."

"Not swearing on much," Red shrugs.

"Why am I asking him?" Tolkien asks.

"Because you're friends with him," You were on the verge of pulling out the list of pros and cons of having Kyle on the team you had spent Thursday night making. "Guys, I begged the coach to let this slide and it was really embarrassing so can you please ask him? He said that he'll let Kyle join if he comes to the next practice and does well."

"You're at his house all the time, just ask him tonight," Red was nowhere near as invested as you were, hence why she skipped track all of the time. She wasn't worried about getting slow or lazy, she counted Coach Jackson's soccer practices towards track and ultimately figured she didn't need both to stay fit. Red always sent you to track practice with excuses for why she couldn't make it.

"Why are you at his house all of the time if you hate him so much?" Tolkien sits still, trying to piece together any sense. When you were frantically texting him the night of Adams's stumble, he suggested putting Scott in his place. In your not-so-humble opinion, Scott was way too slow for the 4x100 relay. You scribbled around in your notebook, trying to work out his run times which you meticulously memorised and came to the conclusion that it wouldn't work no matter where you placed him in the relay.

"Because their parents are swingers," She says this with such ease, made sense with how much she teased you about it. You would've complained if you didn't poke fun at her for worse.

"They are not swingers," You address "They are just good friends that hang out a lot and in turn, I have to hang out with Kyle a lot."

Red and Tolkien cast one another a side glance before Red turns her attention back to you. "Do they 'hang out' a lot without you guys around?" She softens her tone in a somewhat condescending way, the same way you would talk down to a child.

"They're not swingers," You emphasize, choosing to ignore the insinuations of you and Kyle which almost made you gag. "Please, Tolkien, we need this but don't tell him I said that."

"It's not really a proposition if you're just asking me to do something for you," He points out.

"It totally is, it's a plan of action," You say "Action which we need to take so we don't lose or get disqualified," There had been rumours of college scouts attending the track meet and you were in desperate need of getting a scholarship if you didn't want to be in student debt until the day they buried your cold body.

"Just put Scott in," Red suggests and you give her nothing more than a cold glare.

"Next person who says that is getting anonymously cyberbullied for the next year," You say, pointedly at the two of them before running your hands down your face, nearing defeat "Why did it have to rain?"

"Maybe it was divine intervention," Red says, nonchalantly "I think Dawsey wanted to sleep with Adam or something and that was god saving him from getting molested by a divorced PE teacher."

"He's weird but I don't think he's a pedophile or anything."

"You two are as fast as him and he doesn't give a shit about you," Red points out, one eyebrow raising slightly "Really think about it." Your mind began to wander to the way Dawsey always had a hand on Adam's back, how he always put him in the most ideal lane, and how he almost cartoonishly sprinted to his rescue when hit leg split.

"Maybe you're right." From the look on his face, you can tell Tolkien is calling back moments of Dawsey being a little too touchy with Adam.

"Or maybe coach just likes him more because he's a straight white guy and I can safely say the three of us are not," You draw the pair's attention back to you "Point is, he's out, Emmets out, Spencer's out, Scott is not even in question and we need Kyle."

"You need him?" A small smile begins to play on Red's face. In the past couple of years, Red had taken to a more grunge type of style, causing her to look like Kurt Cobain's lost daughter who fell into a vat of bright red hair dye, which was currently growing out, exposing her dark roots.

"Nuh-uh," You say almost instinctively, absentmindedly folding your arms. "I didn't say I need him I said we need him, like collectively because we're totally pwned if we don't coerse Kyle onto the team."

"And we're one hundred percent sure Emmet can't run?" Tolkien asks "I thought he just got hit in the stomach."

"I asked him about it and he told me cracked his ribs and it hurts to breathe or something, I dunno but it's super fucking gay." Your eyes shift to Red "Not in a derogatory way but in a lame-

"Yeah, we know," Tolkien stops you in your tracks.

"What a pussy," Red says, she isn't really tuned in, she's moved on to watching street fights online while partially listening to the conversation "It always hurts you to breathe and you're still running."

"That's what I said," You exasperate.

"It really shouldn't hurt to breathe," Tolkien says "Might be a little on the nose but you really need to stop smoking."

Red disregards this completely, "Ask Kyle next period or Tolkien could just text him." looking up from her phone to you "Or 1 could just text him." You and Kyle had texted each other a total of six times, this was no exaggeration, it was exactly six times.

Oct 11th, 2020

Kyle Broflovski: Is Ike at your house?

You: Ya

July 21st, 2023

You: Do you know where Kenny is?

Kyle Broflovski: No

Kyle Broflovski: I thought he was with you

You: K he's not

"I can't ask him, I can't even breathe around him without gagging," You complain "Because authentic gingers have this really specific and pungent smell, like every single one, without fail."

Tolkien eyebrows are raised, wrinkles forming on his forehead "That might be the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"What does a ginger smell like?" Red put her phone face down on the table, suddenly intrigued.

"It's stagnant and a little musty, not like body odour musty but more like an old second-hand bookstore that has mildew and black mold-

"I can't help but feel like we got off topic here," Tolkien abruptly cuts you off again for the second time that day "So can we just agree on Kyle so I can eat my lunch?" At this, you and Red nod, with no sense of disagreement "Okay, cool," The very second Tolkien stands up from the table, the bell begins to shriek, signalling the end of lunch hour. He throws his hands up in exasperation, looking woefully at his unfinished tray of food.

You had been entirely too stiff when Biology class rolled around, more aware of Kyle's presence than usual. Fate, or perhaps the whims of the teacher, had decreed that you would be seatmates for the remainder of the semester. However, there was no friendship to be found between you, only a simmering animosity that hung in the air like static before a storm.

As the teacher droned on about cell structures and molecular biology, you and Kyle remained steadfast in their resolve to ignore each other's presence. You exchanged no words, no glances, only the occasional rustle of papers or the tap of a pencil against a desk.

Despite your mutual disdain, there was an unspoken understanding between you – a silent agreement to coexist in the same space without acknowledging each other's existence. And so, you buried yourself in their work, diving into the intricacies of biology as if it were a shield against the discomfort of your shared proximity.

You knew what you were supposed to do, but that didn't make it any easier for you to swallow your pride and ask Kyle for a favour. It was hard enough to admit to yourself that you needed him if you wanted to win the mixed relay which you had spent the entire year anticipating. With a deep breath, you replay how you'll ask him over and over again, being sure that you don't sound desperate.

"Kyle, have you ever thought about joining the track-

"Nope," He answers before you can even finish your sentence. Kyle doesn't even look up from his work as he says this, leaving you to stare at the side of his hooked nose before quickly looking down at your paper.

"Okay," you mutter under your breath, you were so quiet that you weren't sure he even heard you. The minutes ticked by, marked only by the rhythmic scratching of pens and the occasional sigh of frustration, you fell back to silence and didn't press him any further.

"I did everything I could," You greatly over-exaggerate the eleven words you had shared with Kyle in biology like you had gone to war asking him to join the team, in your mind, you had. Now you were picking at a basket of curly fries in a diner where you complained about your excruciating dilemma to your Bebe.

"Everything?" Bebe quirks an eyebrow, taking a sip of her cherry coke, glossed lips pressing around the red and white straw. When she lifts them, there's a sticky residue of glitter on the straw "What does this entail?"

"It entails Kyle being a dickhead."

"Yeah, I'm sure," She says, not an ounce of belief in her voice. She leaned back in the red leather booth. Bebe looks beyond beat (for her standards), she haphazardly tied her curly hair into two twin braids, mismatched elastics. She had been wearing nothing more than sweatpants and a tank top when you left her house, forcing you to surrender your hoodie to keep goosebumps away from her bare arms. "Should we go to Clyde's later?"

"Why would we go to Clyde's? It's almost ten," You furrow your eyebrows "I don't really wanna spend my Friday night third wheeling."

"You won't be third wheeling, it's not like we're dating or anything-

"Yeah, but it's worse to third-wheel two horny people who aren't even dating," You had a gut feeling that any day now Clyde and Bebe would become official, Stan was now taking Wendy's time back up, Nichole and Tolkien seeing each other on the low, and you were suspicious of Red and Heidi, now Bebe was going for her elementary spark. All of your friends were abruptly falling in love and no one gave you the memo, leaving you in the dust.

"So what better things did you have planned?" She steals a fry away from you, dragging it through the ketchup.

You shrug "Get high and look at pictures of Snoopy."

"That's more of a thing you do with Red," Bebe said. Despite the statement itself being true, you could tell she was trying to deviate from you to go see her new fling.

"So you're tyna ditch me now to go hang out with Clyde?" You fall short of the amusement that Bebe's trying to portray.

"What? no," She says this like your statement was incredulous "I'm just saying that you would have more fun smoking with Rebecca."

"And you'd have more fun banging Clyde?" You weren't sure if it had been the nagging feeling that all of your friends were leaving you in the dust and making time for better things or the fact that this wouldn't be the first time Bebe cancelled your plans to hang out with someone else but something about this conversation was irking you.

Her face drops "Why are you being a dick?"

"Why are you trying to get rid of me?"

She wouldn't admit to it but it was true. Not that Bebe necessarily had strife with you, more so she tended to fall on the fickle side of things and being around you so much had put her into a rut. "I'm not," Bebe wrangles her mind to sedate this before it blows up "Sorry, can we please just drop this?”

Silence stretches between the two of you, if it weren't for the chatter of other customers and light buzzing of decrepit ceiling lights, it would've been utter stillness. Her icy blue eyes were peering into your soul, your hoodie hanging limp off her narrow shoulders.

You didn't necessarily want to leave it alone, you weren't one to lie down rather than win an argument but today your internal chemistry had been tweaked; for a moment you thought about letting it go, being rational and not provoking, which was so hard since it was what you were so good at. "No," You answer "I don't think we should drop it."

You can see the look of annoyance creep up on Bebe's face "Why?"

"It's better to talk about it-

"This always happens though," Bebe begins "I say something, you say something, and then we don't talk for a month so I don't think it's better to talk about it."

"Maybe there's a reason we fight all the time," you point out. There were at least one hundred reasons why you and Bebe fought all the time, mainly because the two of you fed into each other's agitation, putting the two of you together was like leaving a lit candle in the woods.

"I'm not here to psychoanalyze this, let's just go and get stoned." She pulls the final trick from her sleeve, pot to put this to sleep.

Bebe was the match to your kindling, the fuel to your fire and that's why you had been so off and on with her since middle school, you were like that annoying couple who kept breaking up and then exhausting everyone by getting back together.

As much as you want to argue until your throat turns dry as sandpaper from yelling, you also want to get high and laugh until your lungs burn. "Sure, okay."

It goes quiet for another minute. Followed by another and another until you both accept that there's nothing more to say, you pay the bill and begin the trek back to your car. While the rain had subsided it was as cold as ever, always an unwelcomed familiarity that came with living in South Park. Even with summer inevitably approaching, the nights were still frigid after rainfall almost to the point where you could see your breath.

Bebe had stolen your hoodie and left you shivering on the walk to your car. The diner parking was something outrageously complicated where you had to download an app and pay online, to which you were lazy and in being lazy, parked far away in a faraway spot. This had taken far more time to find the spot, park, and walk to the diner than it would've been to get an app and pay the three dollars.

You had clutched the pink bottle of pepper spray that was hooked onto your carabiner tightly in your hand, never too sure of who would try to get one on you while you found your way through the dark streets.

Finally, after what seemed like a century of stumbling blindly through darkness, you made it to your car, parked in front of a locksmith. The street lamps were dim, you supposed it was nice that you didn't have light pollution in town but you hadn't even noticed the oddity on your car until Bebe pointed it out.

"What's that?" She squints her eyes before turning on her phone flash to inspect.

There it was, unmistakable in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp: a bright yellow clamp securing your car's front wheel. "Oh no, no, no!" Your exclamation cut through the eery quiet of the night "Fuck!"

"Oh, shit," Bebe mutters, immediately beginning to rapidly type on her phone, the blue light illuminating her tanned face, you heat the loud ding of a notfication.

Your hands find their way to grip your hair "What the fuck!?" You shout, louder than intended, your voice echoing off the surrounding buildings, the emptiness of the night amplifying your distress. "I don't have any unpaid parking tickets, what the fuck?" You repeat, mind running wild with how your parents would react. Your phone had died a little over a half hour ago so you were choosing to use that as an excuse to delay telling your parents.

"Look, you parked in a bike lane," She gestures out. Surely enough Bebe was right, you had and you were also inexplicably screwed over.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You knew Bebe wasn't to blame for your car being immobilized but a million thoughts were tangling into a jumbled mess inside of your head.

"I didn't see either," She looks up from her phone to where you frantically pace the sidewalk "Not my fault you parked in a fucking bike lane and didn't notice."

Your eye catches a slip of paper wedged into your window shield and immediately you reach for it.

This notice is to inform you that your vehicle has been clamped due to a violation of parking regulations or outstanding fines. The clamp has been securely attached to your vehicle's wheel, rendering it immobile. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO MOVE THE VEHICLE OR REMOVE THE CLAMP.

Reason for Clamping: [illegal parking]

Location of Clamping: [Maplewood Street, v2ah60]

For instructions on release please dial +15392848788

Thank you for your cooperation.

You wave the notice around "Bebe take a picture of this, my phone died and I need the number," To this, she just stares at you blankly "Please!?" You insinuate. Panic is etched clearly across your features.

"Jesus, just relax," The irritation is obvious in her voice as takes a picture with a blinding flash not just of the slip of paper but of you holding the notice, eyes squinting from the sudden bright light and hair messy from nearly ripping it out due to stress. She looks at the picture she took and giggles.

"Fuck off, can you be serious right now?" You're too busy thinking of all the ways your dad will execute you rather than the harsh tone you were using with your friend. He didn't speak to you for a week when he found out you were on birth control, you couldn't imagine what he would do when he found out that you had a fine.

"Sorry?" She sounds like she's actually taken offence to your words. "I'm trying not to be stressed since you're two minutes away from tearing your hair out."

"Because you don't have to worry about your dad turning you into taxidermy," To others, this may have sounded ridiculous but you had no doubt in your mind that your father would take such extremities. "Can you please be mature about this?"

Bebe's eyes widen slightly, eyebrows raising "You want me to be mature when all you do is bitch and moan about Kyle like we're in the fourth grade?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind it." You snap. You weren't the most rational person, now desperately grasping for someone or something to shift the blame.

"You can't get all pissed off when this is your fault," Bebe crosses her arms, physically getting defensive, the phone still clutched in one hand "You're the one who parked illegally."

"Because you told me to park in front of the locksmith!" You gesture towards the building you were now arguing in front of. The building itself looked haunted, the run-down locksmith shop stands like a forgotten relic amidst a row of bustling businesses that were kept with the care that this shop was definitely missing. The windows, clouded with grime and dust, offer only glimpses of the dim interior beyond. Some are cracked, their fractured panes held together by strips of weathered tape. The exterior itself was hideous, a bright yellow paint dulled by the passage of time that had orange patterns of keys and locks all over it, a sign above hung that read 'chipper locks' You didn't imagine that they got much business.

"You listened!" She deflects the blame like a game of tennis

"No, I said I didn't want to park here because it's sketchy and I was scared a crackhead would hide under my car and slash my Achilles tendon when I got back in but you told me to stop bitching about it!"

"You're the only person on earth that would worry about something so fucking irrational, shouldn't you be stressed about finals instead of having nightmares about serial killers you made up in your head?"

"I didn't make it up in my head," You defend "It's all over like everything." It did quickly become a fear of yours since Nichole sent you a video about traffickers hiding under cars and slashing women's tendons, all she said was 'that's crazy lol' but it instilled terror in you and made you glance under your car before getting in no matter where you had left it parked.

"You're insane," She mutters, so quietly that she hadn't expected you to hear.

Unfortunately for both of you, it didn't fall deaf upon your ears "I'm sorry?"

"It's okay," Bebe waves you off.

"No, I'm not apologizing," You furrow your eyebrows "You just called me insane, what the fuck, Bebe."

"Not in a bad way," Bebe hugs herself to try and fight off the cold. She doesn't seem to grasp the gravity of every word she spat out at you.

"How is there possibly a good way to call someone insane?"

"I meant you're insane in a wild kind of way, like a party animal," She tries to climb out of the grave she was digging for herself. "Like, wow, this girl's insane," Bebe mimics in a deeper voice, trying to portray some frat guy referring to you like you are the life of the party.

You stare at her, mouth slightly agape as you process the situation. "You know what?"

"What?" Bebe tucks a flyaway strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, her messy twin braids swaying slightly in the wind.

"You're a fucking cunt," You spit, pointing a finger at her in an accusatory manner, eyes narrowing. The words fell from your mouth like venom puncturing skin.

Whatever Bebe was expecting you to say it wasn't that. She's genuinely taken aback and it's clear across her face, her eyes widened in disbelief, pupils dilating as if trying to take in the enormity of what she had just heard. The muscles in her jaw slackened, her lips parting slightly in a silent gasp. "Yeah?" She raises her voice "You're a little bitch."

"I don't really care," The two of you had an almost impressive way of taking things from zero to one hundred with little build-up between.

"Do you care about anything?" Bebe's expression shifted subtly, betraying the undercurrent of annoyance coursing through her. Her lips pressed into a thin line, a silent indication of her displeasure, while her eyebrows drew together in a slight furrow, hinting at the frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

"You'd probably know if you weren't too busy trying to get dicked down by Clyde," You retort, the muscles in your jaw tensing up.

"At least I can get laid, you just wallow around in your own loneliness and get all bitter about happy couples for whatever fucking reason."

You completely breeze past the fact that she's right and scramble for something to say "You wanna be an author and you can't even read the ingredients list on a can of Coke," Though you tried to maintain composure, there was a flicker of impatience in your movements, a subtle stiffness in your posture that spoke volumes.

Her brows arched upwards, forming a perfect curve of incredulity. A flush of colour rose to her cheeks, a telltale sign that you had hurt her. "You're such a dick," Bebe says and a hush settles over you "You know your now a good person, right?"

“And you think you are?"

For another time, the conversation fell into a lull. For a long while, you stood there in the cold, breath mingling with the frosty air, until a familiar car rolled to a stop right next to yours. It was Clyde's black Chevrolet.

"You texted Clyde?" This might've been what hurt you the most, more than any other sentence uttered that night.

"Yup, sure did,” Bebe turns away from you to open the passenger door "You have a huge pimple on your face by the way, it's literally the only thing I can focus on when I look at you, it's fucking disgusting."

Your hand reaches for the small bump on your cheekbone on instinct "It's a spider bite, actually," You're correct this fact makes you seem high and mighty "Because I sleep with my window open."

“Oh my god," Bebe mutters, wrinkling her nose.

"Does she need a ride?" Clyde asks eyebrows furrowed as his eyes shoot between where you stand on the pavement and Bebe climbing into the passenger seat.

"No, she's fine," Bebe answers for you, shutting the door. Inside the car, Clyde says something to her that you can't make out, just muffled mutters. In just seconds you hear the ignition start and watch as he glides down the road.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as a surge of newfound anger washes over you. As Clyde's car pulled away, disappearing into the darkness with Bebe at the wheel, the cold seeped into your bones, matching the icy chill in your chair as you stood alone on the deserted street.

"You're a fucking asshole, Bebe!" You shout after them though it's futile, you know she can't hear you, but it doesn't stop you from holding up your middle finger and cussing her out. To passersby, it probably looked like you had something in your system "And you're wearing my hoodie!"

You run your hands down your face, nearly scraping the soft skin with your fingernails as you pace around in a small circle. You were left with a car rendered immobile, a dead cellphone, nine dollars on you, and a home forty minutes away in walking distance, better start moving.

Glancing at your car and the long dark road ahead, you quickly unlocked your car, hopping into the driver's seat and rummaging around in your compartment for a little bit of relief. You dig deep into the console box for a box of stale cigarettes you had forgotten in there, still it was better than nothing. You yank one out and let it rest between two fingers while you bring a lime green lighter to the end to ignite it.

The tip glowed bright orange as you brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling a plume of smoke into the cool night air. You lock your car, tucking the lighter and pack of Marlboros into your pocket, snatching the notice from your windshield for the phone number and begin the trek home.

While it was only an eight-minute drive, the walk was more strenuous. You wished that you had some heavily padded parka to wrap around yourself though you had nothing more than the heat radiating off the end of your cigarette, in your other hand you grasped to the pink bottle of pepper spray for dear life, the car clamp notice tucked under your arm.

As childish as it was, you found yourself almost fighting back tears, that familiar feeling building in your throat like every awful thing you had ever felt was going to fall through the gaps of your teeth. You were sure that you deserved to be deserted on the damp streets, truthfully you didn't expect Bebe to show you any form of mercy after what you had said to her and you had proved to be correct on the matter.

It was moments like this where you were sure there was nothing worse than making friends.

Maybe you would be a hermit for a bit, head straight home after track and soccer, then lock yourself away for the summer until you've reinvented yourself into someone a little more agreeable.

The rhythmic sound of your breath mingled with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the chill of the night air nipped at your cheeks, but you pressed on, fueled by the knowledge that there would be a hot shower waiting for you at home. That almost cancelled out the idea of telling your parents you were getting charged for illegal parking and then explaining a fabricated lie to them that you smelled like tobacco because the man beside you at the diner was smoking. What a delinquent you were.

As you walked, your thoughts drifted like smoke on the wind, swirling and shifting with each exhale. Memories and worries danced through your mind, fleeting and ephemeral, like wisps of smoke disappearing into the night sky. You were so close to subbing in Scott for the relay even though you had been so opposed to it since it would guarantee a loss but if Tolkien wouldn't ask Kyle then you would have to accept the fact you were bound to lose since you were cursed with a team that only signed up for track to skip school on the day of the meet and hang around the concession stand.

The quiet peace that you had lost in your own thoughts was quickly broken when you picked up on the navy blue car slowing down as it approached you. Your cigarette burns to the filter and you drop it to the ground, smothering the fizzing embers out with your heel as you watch the car for a brief moment before quickly turning and quickening your pace. Praying to every god you didn't believe in that this wouldn't evolve into something more.

When you speed up, so does the car. You're even more aware of your surroundings now, the mace firm in your grip, you kept one thumb on the top preparing yourself for the worst. "Hey!" A gruff voice from the car yells, he rolls his window down, you can't make out his face and you aren't sure that you want to.

This is all it takes for you to move from your fast walk to a run, ignoring the cold air eating away at the tip of your nose and the sharp burning in your lungs. The man from the car yells something else but your heart is pounding too loud for you to hear anything off in the distance.

Your senses suddenly heightened, a prickling sensation crawling up the back of your neck. You felt a surge of unease wash over you as the sound of an engine revving filled the air, growing louder and closer with each passing moment.

Instinctively, you hastened your pace even further, your heart pounding in your chest as you cast a nervous glance over your shoulder. Its headlights pierced the darkness like beacons of warning.

You knew you had to act fast, figuring that whoever was chasing you was the type to slash tendons and the streets were absurdly empty aside from you and the man in the car. With a desperate glance around you, you spotted an alleyway up ahead, a narrow passage shrouded in darkness. Without hesitation, you veered off the main road and plunged into the shadows, heart pounding in your chest as you raced for safety.

With another glance around, you finally stopped to catch a breather, trying to swallow up all of the air you could and think of what to do next, it felt like wild horses were racing through veins in the form of adrenaline. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your shaky breathing seemed to devour every last rational thought you have.

You renavigate your way home, trying to avoid the sketchy road where the man in the car was likely waiting to pull you in. You emerge from the ally on another street, clear of any cars, with a deep sigh, you light another cigarette, leaving you with an empty box that you toss into the nearest garbage. The nicotine had soothed you, the notice was now crumpled up into your pocket wedged next to your dead cell phone and your carabiner hung off one of your fingers, keys and mace clattering against one another.

Still, you were anxious despite the cigarette smoke loosening your tightly wound nerves just a little. You stayed hyper-aware of everything around you, walking as fast as you could before it classified as a run and being sure to remain silent so you could hear everything around you.

"Wait, man!" You hear a voice off in the distance and turn to see that navy blue car once again. You were ready to take off until you noticed something in the dim light of the street lamps. The face of a guy around your age, a straight nose and dark hair, Stan Marsh.

You pause as the car pulls beside you and you see the other faces in the car, in the back sit Cartman and Kenny, in the passenger seat is Stan's right-hand man and your least favourite person, Kyle. "Oh my god, I thought you were a pedophile!" Your voice picks up with agitation.

"Why?"

"Because you fucking trailed me with your car at night and yelled at me on an empty street!” You look past Kyle and directly at Stan where he sits by the wheel. You take one more long drag of your cigarette before snubbing it out on the pavement. Kyle wrinkles his nose at the smell "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He gives Kyle a little nervous glance before looking at you "Wendy said something happened with Bebe and we saw you and figured-

"That you would make me think I was going to get kidnapped?" You almost want to drag him out of his seat and sucker punch you for scaring you so badly.

"Hey," Kenny chimes in from the back, he's smiling at you, a fresh scrape across his left cheekbone. "I texted you and you didn't answer."

"So-uh, do you want a ride?" Stan asks "Because you'll get kidnapped for real if you keep walking."

"We don't have room," Cartman adds where he sits behind Kyle, stretching his legs out with what little space Kyle had given him.

"Because you're taking all of it up fatass," Kenny points out "Sit in the front."

"I don't want to be in the same car as a junkie, she'll probably stick us with needles and get us all addicted to heroin." Cartman was well bundled up on this chilly night, a grey hoodie and flannel hanging overtop.

Stan ignores this comment "So?"

You think through Stan's offer, even though it was a nightmare situation to be stuck in a vehicle with Cartman and Kyle he was likely right when he said you would get kidnapped for real. South Park wasn't the safest town despite how it was portrayed on travel pamphlets and blogs. While the residential area was good for kids to play in, the main streets were a little crude. "Yeah, sure," You mutter "Please."

Cartman lets out a loud groan as the boys reorganize themselves to accommodate you. Kyle ducks out of the passenger seat and out into the chilly night, to your surprise, he isn't wearing his hat, his red curls hanging loose. Cartman hauls himself into the passenger seat, uttering complaints the entire time.

You wait for Kyle to clamour into the backseat but he doesn't, he just stands by the open door, waiting expectedly for you to get in. When you realize that you're meant to be sitting in the middle you almost want to protest but decide against it, Stan was being nice enough offering you a ride when you barely knew him aside from being Wendy's boyfriend.

The very second you buckle into the backseat, Cartman begins to cough dramatically. He's heaving on nothing, exaggerating the slight smokey smell that lingered on you. He claws at his throat "It's so hard to breathe," He mumbles like he's choking.

This must be what hell feels like.

“Why were you walking?" Kenny breaks up the sound of Eric wheezing. Wordlessly, you reach for the crumpled slip of paper in your pocket and smooth it out as much as possible over one of your thighs before handing it to him. His eyes visibly brighten as he reads it a small smile splitting across his face "Illegal parking," he lets out a low whistle "I love myself a lawbreaker," He hands the notice back to you.

Kyle subtly looks down at the paper, he didn't finish reading it before you fold it up and tuck it back into your pocket. He's interested but he won't admit it, so instead of pressing the matter, he trains his eyes to watch the concrete sidewalk roll by out of the window.

You're crammed between the two, your thighs touching theirs, Kyle tries to make himself as small as possible while Kenny carelessly man-spreads, his leg almost overlapping yours. "How long are you going to be grounded for that one?" Kenny asks.

"I'm trying to get it settled without them finding out," With aptitude you peek at Kyle whose eyes meet yours before deviating. You didn't think he would go snitching on you but it still worried you. He had far more blackmail over you than you had on him, you were still clinging to things he did in freshman year while it seemed that every month you had a new secret to keep from your parents.

"Good luck with that," He says, also staring out the window though he didn't do it to avoid you "You got the money to pay for the fine?"

You find yourself glimpsing back at Kyle, using this question as a scapegoat to clear yourself before he even gets the idea of telling either of your parents "Yes and I will pay the fine as soon as possible, from this point moving forward I am going to be a law-abiding citizen, I vow to never park in a bike lane again and not to steal prozac from my dad," You indirectly address Kyle, he can tell what you're trying to do based on the way you keep shifting your eyes to look at him. Kyle looks at you, he doesn't say anything but you understand him clearly 'What the fuck are you doing?'

"Okay?" Kenny says, sounding confused "That's cool, I guess, good for you."

"Hide your Advil, Stan," Cartman peeps up, watching you from the rearview mirror "Crash is on a crime spree, she might steal your mom's jewelry for drug money too.”

Growing too tired to say something snarky in return, you just lean back in your seat, eyes half-lidded as you listen to Cartman besmirch you. Everyone in the car had accepted this to be a regular occurrence. At first, when everyone in your grade greeted you by calling you Junkie, Crackhead or something along that line you wanted to hug your mom and cry but you quickly grew desensitized to it after two weeks, it just felt like another nickname.

Stan cranks his stereo up to drown out Cartman's incoherent complaints. It's some metal band that you had never heard before playing faintly while Kenny shows you pictures of his roster on his cheap phone that he had spent two paycheques purchasing. "So where were you guys headed before you picked me up?" You ask, purely to try and make polite conversation, feeling immensely out of place with the four of them all together.

"We were going to Stans for game night," Kenny says, still scrolling through his stickers on Snapchat "You wanna come?" Truthfully you hadn't been hanging out with Kenny as much as you used to, you still smoked pot every now and then but it was rare for the two of you to sit down and actually do something together or go out somewhere. You were too preoccupied with track and soccer and all of your friend's drama, their secrets piling on you like fines.

Cartman whips his head around to look at Kenny with fury in his eyes. "Nah," You draw out, scrambling for an excuse "I should probably just go home and repent for my crimes against the state."

"Kinda hot," Kenny nods absentmindedly.

Conversation faltered as you struggled to find common ground, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between you. Every attempt at small talk fell flat, each joke met with forced laughter that only served to highlight the awkwardness of the situation. You could've sworn you were more socialized than you were acting. “Man, I love track and field, what an incredible sport to have on a college application,” This time you aren’t as discreet with your subliminal messaging to Kyle, turning your head to look at him completely. He doesn’t say anything.

With each passing mile, the silence grew more suffocating, pressing in on them like a heavy blanket. You fidgeted nervously, your eyes darting from one face to another as you searched for an escape from the uncomfortable tension.

Stan sped over a speed bump, you reached your hands out to grab something on instinct, hand gracing Kyle's leg for the briefest moment, still you retract it and look at him in horror.

Clasping your hands together in your lap you anticipate each passing second as Stan neared your street you felt relief wash over you like a baptism. "Right here," You say and Stan slows the car by your front yard, the lights are on in your home casting a warm glow into the velvety black night.

Before the car even comes to a full stop, Kyle opens the door, wanting this to be over as bad as you do. With haste, he unbuckled his seatbelt and took a step out with his lanky legs. His green eyes watch your every move while you shimmy out of the middle seat, taking in a deep breath of clean air that didn't smell like car freshener and body spray. "Thanks for the ride," You give Stan a tight-lipped smile, ready to walk away until Kyle opens his mouth.

"When's the next track practice?"

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows "You're joining?"

"Yeah, Tolkien asked me to," He says and the space between you fills with silence.

The soft expression on your face quickly morphs into something a little more vicious "So Tolkien asks you to join and you jump at the chance?" You say, snarky.

Kyle seems unphased "I actually like Tolkien."

"Yeah, I know, You probably explore each other's bodies." You brush past him fighting the urge to just walk into your house, maybe it was because someone had replaced your calcium with mercury or you were just tired but today someone had messed with your internal chemistry "Uh, thanks though, it's on Tuesday." Finally, you had gotten that win you were chasing all day.

A/N: oml sorry this took so long, I had no idea where the plot was going but we’re good now so the other chapters won’t take so long.

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unseededtoast · 7 months

Text

Light As A Feather | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: The gravity of your job begins getting to you, and you come to realize you've forgotten how beautiful life can be. And one tranquil night, it's like Spencer is able to lift the weight and makes you feel light as a feather. Inspired by Hozier's "I, Carrion (Icarian)"

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: General violence, angst, pining. Poorly Edited

a/n: howdy folks. I'm still in my spencer reid/hozier brainrot era and so here's another. I hope you all enjoy it and thank you for all of the support I've received, it means the world!!

His presence is enough to make you forget about the horrors of the world, of your job. Right now, it's just you and him, and you've never felt lighter; so unburdened. You're convinced that if he wasn't there, holding onto you with his magnetic pull, that you may just float away in the breeze like a feather.

You had never been to Colorado before, and now you wish you could be here under different circumstances. It's the beginning of fall and it seems as if the people of Boulder are head over heels in love with the season. Which is understandable, you think you'd love fall this much too if you lived in a place this beautiful. The trees are painted in vibrant shades of yellow, orange, and red and the distant mountains stand proudly in the background with their snow capped tops. Your eyes are glued to the lush landscape as the SUV drives through Boulder to reach your destination.

You, along with the rest of your team, were called by the Park Rangers from the Rocky Mountain National Park about a few bodies they had discovered. Your superior, Hotch, decided their case was odd enough for you all to pay a visit. At first you hadn't wanted to come, convinced that there would be something closer to home to tend to, but now you're glad you agreed to come. Fall time in Quantico just isn't as picturesque.

Eventually, the SUV you're crammed into alongside three of your other team members drives up a long winding driveway to a hidden cabin in the woods. Hotch had booked the place, seeing as how close it is to the National Park and how secluded it is from potential people of interest. Once again, you tried to argue that the cellphone reception would be terrible up here and that it might hinder the case, but you were outvoted, and the rest of the team wanted to stay here. You hadn't understood why, but when the venue comes into view your jaw almost drops and you understand.

The cabin isn't at all what you had been expecting. Instead of some run-down, small, stuffy house, you see a large, sprawling log mansion. There are large windows adorning the front, accompanied by a wraparound porch on the second level. It's very reminiscent of a tasteful ski lodge.

"Wow." You breathe out as the car comes to a stop outside the front door.

"Still think it's a bad idea?" Hotch smarts off as he opens the trunk and starts handing people their bags. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you grab your bag from him and stare up at your home for the next few days.

The rest of the team wastes no time in going inside to claim their room, but you're happy to meander around for a little bit to familiarize yourself with the layout. You'll let them fight over the rooms and take whatever is left. After all, in a place of this size, even the smallest room is bound to be plentiful.

As you go through the halls admiring the artwork on the wall you spot Spencer doing the same, staring at a particular painting on the wall. You take just a second to appreciate the way he looks, standing there and analyzing art. You've always had an appreciation for Spencer, and not just for his good looks, but also his intelligence and his company.

Since your first day at the FBI you've felt drawn to him, he made you feel important, and heard, when others dismissed you. In fact, he's the reason you're on the BAU team in the first place. He was the only one to recognize your abilities and talents. You try not to hold a grudge about the fact the rest of the team was ready to let you transfer out after your internship. But instead of standing there and gawking at him like some braindead fool, you walk up to him, setting your bag on the floor beside your feet.

You look at the painting that's caught his attention and try to see what he does, try to think about how he interprets it. His mind is an amazing, complex thing, and you hope that one day you'll be able to understand just a small portion of it. It's a painting of the Great Rocky National Park, you can tell from the mountain formation and the river running through it. The painting is almost an identical match, as if it's actually a picture rather than painting. However, there's one small spot on the painting that looks like it's been painted over and over, it sticks out to you.

"What do you think happened there?" You point out the flaw and look up to Spencer, whose eyebrows are drawn closely together as he leans in and looks at the spot. After a few moments of quiet reflection, he stands back to his full height.

"I'm not sure. It looks like maybe the painter had difficulties finding the right shade." He says, still staring at the spot. Your eyes linger on his face before tearing them away before he catches on.

"You're probably right. I'm going to go find what room they left me." You say, grabbing your bag from beside you. Spencer bends over to pick up his as well,

"I should probably do the same." A small smile adorns his face, and the two of you begin walking through the cabin to find the empty rooms the team left you. According to the venue's website there should be one room for each agent, and you're thankful for that. You had never been a fan of sharing room with your coworkers, something about it just feels wrong, but when there's no way to avoid it you endure without much fuss.

The two of you check every room on the first floor only to find that they had all been claimed, meaning you two had to climb the stairs for rooms on the second level. Of course the rest of them would all claim the first floor rooms first, nobody likes to bother with stairs first thing in the morning.

You and Spencer find the empty rooms, side by side with direct access to the porch. You suppose there are worse rooms to have. Eager to step out onto the porch, you toss your bag on the bed and open the sliding door. Colorado's crisp air envelopes you as you step out and you take a deep breath. The air out here feels so clean and refreshing. Great Rocky National Park is directly in front of the porch, giving you an eagle's eye view of a portion of it as you lean onto the banister. Might as well enjoy a little bit of peace before you start working the case.

-----

"Three women were found in the same spot days apart from each other. All bludgeoned and stabbed through the heart." The Park Ranger speaks, indicating to the crime scene that's been barricaded with yellow tape. The Ranger stares at the scene, which is now an inconspicuous patch of dirt and grass, as if there weren't several dead women resting here. The scene is right beside a big body of crystal blue water.

You hang back from the rest of the team, opting to look at the surroundings instead of the immediate scene. The team knows now that finding the tiny details is your forte, and they leave you to your own devices in the beginning of investigations. The cold breeze causes you to hold your too-thin jacket closer to your body as you begin your observations.

"They were all found in the same spot?" Hotch asks the Ranger, who confirms that all of the victims were found in the exact same spot. As you examine the landscape, your eyes narrow in an attempt to find even the subtlest detail. Before too long, you see something out of place in the lush grass and walk over to it while pulling on a pair of gloves.

There's a pamphlet laying in the grass and upon further examination you see that it's been marked up like someone gave the traveler directions. Directions right to this spot. The killer lured at least one victim here. This trail is far off the beaten path, it's not marked by the Rangers. Only someone familiar with the area would know about it.

"Look at this." You call out to your team, and soon a few of them join your side to examine what you found. Spencer and Morgan look over your shoulder at the pamphlet, which is in better condition than you would've thought considering it was laying in grass beside a body of water.

"They're familiar with the area, they had this planned." Spencer speaks up and you nod your head, agreeing with him. Morgan holds out an evidence bag once he's done looking at it and you slip it inside, protecting it from any further damage. Morgan walks off with the pamphlet, leaving you and Spencer together, both deep in thought.

"What have you come up with so far?" You ask softly, curious to see if his theories line up with yours. Spencer shifts his weight and sighs, looking back to the crime scene.

"The killer is organized. They lured at least one victim right to this spot, and I'm assuming they did the same with the others. And they had to have brought the weapons with them. While there are branches to bludgeon people with, there's no evidence of anything nearby being cut down recently. If they used a natural object, it's likely they would've tried to blend it back in with nature." He explains and you nod your head along with what he's saying as you observe the scene and the scenery surrounding you.

"Unless they tossed the weapon into the water. They could have easily used a rock to bludgeon the victims." You counter his explanation. Spencer and you always did this with one another when forming theories. Not as to dissuade, or prove the other wrong, but to make your theories and explanations stronger. It's one of the qualities you most like about him. His eyes drift to the water.

"They could have. But they had to have brought the knife, there's no natural substitute that would leave that precise of a wound." He says, and you relent, agreeing with him.

"I want to question the Rangers, get their work schedules, and see the call logs. I also want to know where the victims were staying and if there's any camera footage of them in the welcome center." You shiver with a gust of wind and hold your arms tighter around your body as you walk off to gather the information you want.

Spencer decides to join you in going to the welcome center, claiming that in a huge national forest that none of us should be traveling alone. He has a good point, but you wouldn't have objected to his company either way. The Ranger from the scene escorts you two to the welcome center in his cruiser, the warm air letting your fingers regain their feeling.

"Who found the bodies?" You ask as you hold your hands in front of the vent emitting warm air. The Ranger looks at you through the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

"I found one and Birch found the others during his patrols." He answers and you mentally make a note to find Birch.

"Is that area regularly patrolled?" You push further for more information and the Ranger shakes his head.

"No, it wasn't, until I found the first girl. She had to have been out there for at least three days. After that I sent Birch out to keep an eye on the area. He found victim two a couple days after the first, and found the third a single day after the second." He says and you look to Spencer, both noting the decrease in time between kills. A sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that if you don't find the killer soon, then you may be finding a fourth victim any day now.

Once you reach the welcome center, the Rangers are more than happy to provide you with the security camera footage, work schedules, call logs, and anything else you may need. In fact, it's Ranger Birch that hands over the information himself. He's a young man, maybe mid twenties, with meticulously groomed hair and pressed uniform pants.

"Thank you." You tell him with a warm smile, taking the footage and other information off the counter and into your hands. He nods back with a wide, white-toothed smile and tells you and Spencer to come back if you need anything else. The moment you step out of the welcome center you give Spencer a pointed look with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you think?" He asks you before you can ask him. You lick your lips and glance back into the welcome center, Ranger Birch still looking at you. Your eyes find Spencer's and you motion for him to follow you.

"I think he takes pride in both his appearance and work, and he knows the park well." Hotch pulls up in a black SUV to pick you and Spencer up to return you to the cabin, where the entire team will discuss what's been found so far.

-----

The trip up to the cabin only takes about ten minutes. Your mind works to put pieces of the puzzle together the entire trip back, but there's just not enough known information yet, and it bothers you. You like to have answers quickly because the faster you get answers, the less people will die. Your leg bounces up and down the entire way back, eager to begin deciphering the evidence.

The SUV comes to a stop outside the cabin and before Hotch can turn the car off, you're out and making your way to the entrance. A man dressed in a casual flannel shirt hunched over the flowerbeds stops you in your tracks before you get to the front door. He wipes the dirt from his landscaping gloves onto his worn overalls as he greets you.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I hope you enjoy your stay here. I'm James, I do the landscaping work around here and a few other cabins nearby." He offers you a warm smile, which you try your best to return, but your anticipation is causing you to become short.

"Nice meeting you." You go to walk into the cabin, but James' voice stops you once more. Spencer and Hotch approach, engaged in a conversation likely pertaining to what happened at the welcome center.

"Wait, ma'am. I never caught your name." James smile is reminiscent of an old friend, and he looks at you expectedly. Against your best wishes, you answer him, not wanting to be unnecessarily rude to your host.

"We'll, it's been a pleasure to meet you. Maybe I'll catch you around before you head out. Are you here for work?" He continues his conversation as Spencer and Hotch walk into the cabin undeterred by the landscaper. Maybe if you had just slowed down one of them would've been caught instead. James' eyes linger on the items in your hands.

"Yeah, the whole team is here for work." You answer, shuffling some items around in your grasp. James nods his head and tears his gaze away from the items, the warm smile returning to his face.

"Must be some important work if a whole team is here. By the looks of you all I'd say you're some sort of police." He guesses, eyeing the firearm that's strapped to your thigh. Your eyes narrow at the man, and you nod.

"Yeah, something like that. I really have to get going, they're probably waiting for me in there. Have a nice night, James." You find your exit route out of the conversation with the friendly mannered landscaper. As you step through the door you hear his voice call out to you once more.

"If there's anything I can do to help, number's in the guestbook." The door closes, and the conversation finally ends.

Taking a cleansing breath, you join the rest of the team who are all gathered around the rectangular dining table, which has been designated as the investigation headquarters. On the table are a slew of files, photos, and papers. You add the information gathered from the welcome center to that collection and Hotch starts the conversation.

Hotch reviews the known information and circulates photos of the victims. They're all beautiful young women, and according to Garcia, were staying at nearby resorts and cabins for vacation. The photos get passed to you and you look at them intently, committing to memory every detail you can absorb before you pass them along. It's obvious that these victims were chosen because of their physical appearance, they all share the same basic features such as hair color, eye color, and stature. And eerily, you seem to match the profile as well.

"The physical appearance of the victim is important to the unsub. Having three victims with similar features is no mistake, nor is it a coincidence." You add to the conversation, seeing your team members look from you to the photos on the table.

"Maybe the victims represent someone who scorned the unsub? Extracting revenge through them." Spencer suggests, and it's a good theory. You chew on the skin of your bottom lip as your mind races with theories and trying to piece the information together like a puzzle.

After the general briefing, Hotch assigns Morgan and Prentiss to interview the Park Rangers to establish alibis, JJ and Garcia to continue conducting their online investigation, and Spencer and yourself to go over the welcome center footage. Hotch was going to speak to the people running the cabins the victims were staying at to see if there are any leads there.

You and Spencer are on the second hour of footage when your eyes start becoming heavy. Reaching for the remote, you pause the footage and stretch, needing to take a break.

"You want some coffee?" You ask him, needing something to keep yourself awake. He nods his head,

"Yes, please." You stand from your seat and go to the kitchen to prepare the two of you some coffee. You're sure to put an ungodly amount of sugar in Spencer's, knowing that if you don't you'll hear him complain about it. And most times you enjoy the sound of his voice, but you don't know if you can stand hours of CCTV footage and him complaining about a lack of sugar right now.

You return to the table and place his mug in front of him, steam rising from it. You sip your own and resume your position at the table and reach for the remote. Spencer reaches for it at the same time, your hands brushing one another's. His hand is warm and soft, perfect for the chilly autumn air.

"Sorry." You say, pulling your hand away and forcing any other thought than the footage from your mind, knowing that there's already a faint pink adorning your cheeks. No matter how long you've worked with him, even just simple touches is enough to send you spiraling if you let it. You try not to delve into what that might mean; you profile people for a living, the last thing you want to do is profile yourself. Without a word, Spencer just smiles back politely and presses play.

The footage rolls and you two identify the victims who all showed up unaccompanied, which you find odd considering they were on vacation with their families. Your hand jots down quick notes in sloppy handwriting as you critically examine what you do, and don't, see in the footage. Spencer and you replay the footage showing the victims easily five times each, both silently taking notes, knowing you're going to compare soon. After watching the third victim's footage for the last time, you look over to Spencer, who's face is illuminated by the golden glow of the setting sun.

"Do you want to go first?" He asks and you nod, trying not to stare at how the sunlight reflects the amber color in his warm prismatic eyes. You look down to your notes and try to get your thoughts straight before speaking.

"I noted that all three victims walked into the welcome center with a pamphlet already in hand. None of them took the ones provided by the park. They all showed up alone. I can only assume that the unsub gave them the pamphlets with instructions on how to find the scene. Only, I'm willing to bet it was framed as a good-intentioned suggestion. There's no way those women would have gone if they didn't trust the unsub to some degree." Your eyes glance from your horribly written notes up to Spencer, who's leaning on the table, clinging to every word you say. He hums in consideration before he speaks up.

"I would agree. And if the victims were all staying at tourist destinations, those pamphlets were likely already there. So now the question is whether or not the unsub talked to them at their cabins or before they walked into the welcome center." He says, and a lightbulb goes off in your mind.

"Wouldn't it make more sense for the unsub to speak to them at their cabins? I mean, if the unsub caught them in the parking lot there's a chance they might have their families with them. But if the unsub spoke to them at their cabins, the women might be persuaded to leave their families behind for some reason." You say, going with the logical deductions that pop into your mind. Spencer mulls over your words, his eyes narrowing, staring back at you in deep thought.

"You're right. The unsub likely works for the resorts. It would give them access to the victims and it wouldn't be weird for them to give suggestions to guests." He confirms what you thought and you look back to the screen, seeing the third victim frozen in time.

"We should let the team know." You say and Spencer nods. The two of you finish off your coffee and wait for the rest of the team to arrive. You're confident that the two of you have a solid lead on this case. You only hope you can find the unsub before there's a fourth victim.

-----

The sun sets on the scenic landscape and you lean against the banister of the wraparound porch. The rest of the team isn't back yet, and the last thing you want to do is stay inside when it's so beautiful out here. The snowcapped mountain in the distance gleams brilliantly, and it's almost blinding, but you can't look away. Sounds of water rushing and birds chirping fill the air and if you let your mind relax enough it's almost like you're not here to solve murders.

Your head rests atop of your arms on the railing and you breathe in the cool air. The breeze gently blows your hair around, sending a shiver up your spine. You had severely underestimated how cold it would be here, and as a result, you failed to pack adequately because you were basing your packing off of Virginia fall time temperatures, which are noticeably warmer.

The sliding door opens and you turn to see Spencer walking out of his room. He joins your side and leans forward on the railing, looking out at the breathtaking view. His curly brown hair gets blown into his face, and you have to stop yourself from reaching out and tucking it behind his ear. You're also enjoying the breathtaking view.

He looks at peace, which is not something you usually see in him. His mind works overtime almost twenty four hours a day, especially on cases. It has to be torturous sometimes, to never get a reprieve from your own thoughts; and that's something you know all too well. There are some nights where you can't sleep because gruesome memories from the job haunt you.

Noticing that you're staring at him, you turn your gaze back to the colorful trees. The two of you enjoy a moment of tranquility together, a rare moment in the fast-paced career you pursued. A bird flies by, and you can only imagine what that freedom feels like. Most times you feel like your job keeps you cemented in one place, always dealing with death and the most heinous monsters that reside in this world. You often forget just how beautiful and free life can be.

A particularly crisp breeze comes through and you visibly shiver, which Spencer notices. Without a word, he goes into his room and comes back moments later with the throw blanket that was folded at the bottom of the bed. It's burnt orange in color and is made of faux fur, warm and soothing. Spencer drapes it over your shoulders and you hold onto the ends, keeping it secure around you. If you could stay in this moment forever, you would.

Spencer stands so closely beside you that you feel his warmth coming through the blanket, and without much thought, or care, you lean into him just slightly. He makes no effort to move, and the two of you stay like that for what seems like an eternity. His warmth and his smell are so comforting and makes you feel safe. Deep down in your heart you know he makes you feel at home.

The two of you enjoy each other's company in a peaceful silence. There's never been the need to fill the silence with him, like there is the others. While you two are quite talkative in the team dynamic, when you find yourselves alone it's often relaxed with no expectations. You two talk when you want, or is needed, but when there's nothing to say you're more than happy to just be around him. And you hope he feels the same about you, and you think he does, but you're never brave enough to ask for fear of ruining whatever relationship it is that you two share.

Sighing, you cuddle yourself further into the blanket as the sun dips lower and lower, the golden hue turning orange. Spencer moves beside you, and you see his fingers twitch, like he was going to reach out for something but doesn't. Your head turns to look at him above you, and his head lowers, so that your eyes meet one another.

You had always known his eyes were beautiful, but up this close you can truly admire the depth of them. The golden hues remind you of the sunsets, the green in them is like the rich moss that adorns the sides of the rocks; or like the pine needles on the tall trees, and the brown is reminiscent of swirling espresso. Taken aback from his closeness and the heat creeping up your spine, your lips fall open and his eyes glance between them and your eyes. He's so close to you, your bodies practically pressed against one another. You feel yourself being drawn to him, like he has his own magnetic pull.

But whatever was about to happen is cut short by the rest of the team arriving back to the cabin. You and Spencer seem to come back to reality and step away from one another. Flustered, you unwrap the blanket from your shoulders and hand it back to him, already missing the warmth.

"Thank you." Your voice is soft and tender, and his hand brushes your own as he grabs the blanket from you.

"Of course." He smiles softly back, and the two of you part ways to join the rest of your team downstairs to catch up on the latest information. But you can barely pay attention to what is being said, for your mind is drowning with flashes of Spencer out on the porch.

-----

The next morning you wake up as the sun shines in through the windows, illuminating the room beautifully and warmly. Hotch had given everyone the night to mull over the information and said that the investigation will pick right back up in the morning. After you get dressed and ensure your service weapon is properly attached to the harness around your thigh, you make your way down the stairs for a morning cup of coffee. Morgan, Prentiss, and Hotch are already sat at the table, picking at some toast for breakfast as they get the sleep rid from their systems.

You make a cup for yourself and Spencer, knowing he will be up any moment now. As per usual, too much sugar gets put into his and then you pour your own. The warm drink calms your nerves and you close your eyes, trying to get your mind prepared for whatever the day may bring. You know there may very well be a fourth victim found soon and you need to be on the top of your game to find the unsub.

"Good morning." A raspy voice makes your eyes open, and you see Spencer walking into the kitchen, dressed in a button up and tie. It's quite casual for him, but you like it, it looks nice on him.

"Good morning, made yours right here." You say and nod over to the mug on the counter. He looks from you to the mug with a smile on his face.

"Thanks." He says, and the two of you stay in the kitchen, sipping on your coffee and waiting for Hotch to give everyone orders.

"Feeling good about today?" It's something you always ask when an investigation seems to be coming to a close. You think it sets a tone, an expectation that the team will succeed. Spencer sips his drink and nods,

"I feel good about today." He confirms, flashing his bright white smile.

Last night, after the team had arrived, Hotch had shown everyone the list of employees from the neighboring resorts and cabins and today the team will be interviewing those employees. You're convinced the unsub has to be on that list and you intend to find out who it is. The questions have already been sorted in your mind, though you're able to adapt to anyone's personality and are prepared to get answers.

"Same teams as yesterday, we're going to divide and conquer." Hotch says, handing each team a list of names. You look down at the list he handed you and see that there are a total of fifteen employees for the small resort that you and Spencer are covering. It catches your attention that seven of the fifteen are women, and you mentally place them lower on your suspect list. This doesn't seem like a crime women usually commit, no, this seems like the work of a man as evidenced by the brute force used.

Morgan and Prentiss take off in one car, Hotch takes another, leaving you and Spencer with your own SUV. The two of you gather your needed materials, such as photos and notepads, before you head out. Spencer grabs the keys and tells you that he's going to warm up the car as you finish organizing your things, and you're grateful for that. Sitting in a cold car doesn't really appeal to you right now.

Once you're content with the items you've chosen to bring along you head out of the cabin. The bright light almost blinds you, and you squint in order to see. From the corner of your eye you see something move, and when you turn to look you see it's the landscaper from the other day, already flagging you down. Resisting the strong urge to just ignore him, you wait for him to reach you on the porch steps. He looks like he's already been hard at work today, he's covered in dirt and sweat.

"Well good mornin'. Got anything interesting going on today?" He asks, shielding his eyes from the light with his gloved hand. You shift your weight and look to the running SUV, already planning your escape route out of this conversation.

"Uh, yeah, you could say it'll be an interesting day." You reply as politely as you can. James smiles widely at your response.

"What sort of thing you have planned?" He asks and you sigh, not wanting to be part of this conversation any longer.

"I'm not at liberty to say, but I've gotta go, my partner is waiting for me." You excuse yourself from the conversation before he can get another word in. From behind you, you hear him say.

"Well alright then, I'll be around if you need anything." As you slide into the driver's side of the car and hand your bag to Spencer, you see the man heading back to the tool shed.

"That's twice now that he's singled me out." You say, keeping your eye on him for a moment longer, watching his moves. The fact that you match the victim profile is not lost on you, and you think it might be making you just slightly paranoid.

"I noticed that too. Could be that you were the first one there the last time, and the last one out this time, but it's definitely something to keep note of." Spencer says as you drive off to the tiny resort the two of you had been assigned. You know he might be right, but the man went out of his way to flag you down this morning and completely ignored everyone else. An uneasy feeling in your stomach tells you that the landscaper should be looked into more thoroughly.

When you and Spencer reach the resort you waste no time in beginning your investigations. The two of you are laser focused on the task at hand, and agree to split the list equally. Spencer volunteered himself to question the extra person. Luckily, the front desk attendant was more than helpful and secured two rooms for the interviews to be conducted.

The first four interviews go by without incident, all front desk attendants and kitchen workers who have no indication of manipulative traits and answer your questions openly. You've done this enough times to spot exactly what you're looking for, you know what gets under the skin of unsubs, especially the organized ones who think they have it all figured out.

A couple other interviewees give you good information about the victim who stayed here. They tell you how they remember seeing her with her family in the hall, and how nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the room when it was cleaned. Hotch had questioned the families last night, and cleared them from the suspects list.

By the time you reach the end of your list, you know you can safely cross every one of them off. None of them responded to the misinformation you sprinkled in the questions, things the unsub would've been known to be untrue. And none of them had any sort of reaction to you insulting the intelligence of the unsub, something that would have surely set them off in some way. But to your dismay, none of them had any clue of who could be capable of this kind of malice. Typically, there's at least one person who's able to spot something weird about someone, but not this time.

You group back up with Spencer, the two of you comparing notes in the room he used for his questioning. He had the same results as you and you both were hoping someone else on the team was more successful.

"We got all of them except for James Hilton. The others said he bounces around to each place and some days he's not even here." Spencer says, pointing out the only uncrossed name from the list.

"James Hilton. That's the landscaper." You say, barely able to recall his name from yesterday. The uneasy feeling in your stomach grows.

-----

In the afternoon, the team reconvenes in the cabin around the table to compare findings. Every other agent was able to interview everyone but James Hilton. Granted, his job requires him to go from location to location, but it seems like he's been hanging out around this cabin often. However, he was nowhere to be found when everyone came back. But maybe he went to another location to work on their flowerbeds.

"We'll need to get his statement today. Anyone up to track him down?" Usually you volunteer to go after someone like this, but something is telling you not to, and you listen to your instincts. Thankfully Morgan offers to track him down, and Prentiss joins him once more. You pick at a piece of paper on the table as your mind works, mulling over what you know about the case and the overly-friendly landscaper.

Before Morgan and Prentiss leave, Spencer informs the team about the conversations that James has dragged you into. You tell them exactly what happened, and they all agree that it seems suspicious. Hotch goes off to make some calls to JJ and Garcia, leaving you and Spencer at the table.

"Hey, are you okay?" Spencer asks, leaning forward on the table. His voice snaps you out of your trance and you cease to fiddle with the paper.

"Me? Yeah I'm fine, why?" You ask, not sure why he's concerned. He looks conflicted, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he answers.

"Well, it's just that you fit the victim profile and the conversations with the landscaper seem to be suspicious. And you keep playing with the paper which is an indication of anxiety." He says, trying his best to not profile you in front of your face.

"Spencer, I'm okay, promise. I was just thinking." You tell him, and it's the truth. While James makes you feel uneasy, you're confident that nothing will happen to you. Spencer nods and you stand from the table, wanting to inspect the cabin with finer detail and stretch your legs.

After going from room to room looking for the tiniest thing that might be relevant to the case, you find yourself staring at the same photo that caught Spencer's eye when you all first arrived. There's something about it, something about the discolored spot, that you just can't let go of. It's bothering you for some reason. Frustrated, you take it off the wall and bring it to where Spencer is in the main living area, nose in a book. He looks up from the page when he hears you coming, his eyebrows scrunching closely together.

"What are you doing?" He asks, putting the book on a side table. You place the painting on the large coffee table and put your hands on your hips.

"There's something about this that's driving me insane." You say, eyes drifting from Spencer's face to the painting. It takes Spencer all of ten seconds to analyze the painting again.

"It's the same place the bodies were found." He says and your eyes widen, taking in the scene again and realizing he's right.

"Wait. If this is the same place the bodies were found, then that, is the exact spot they were in." You say, pointing to the discolored spot. The discoloration is where the grass meets the water, the mountain in the background. Your eyes drift to the bottom corner of the painting where you see a cursive 'J' painted in white.

"Do you think the killer is the one who painted this?" Spencer asks you, and you nod.

"I'm sure of it. There's a J painted in the corner. It has to be Hilton. Can you call Garcia?" You ask, mind feeling like it's running a marathon. Spencer doesn't hesitate to get Garcia on the phone.

"Hello my beautiful boy genius, what can I do for you today?" Penelope's voice sounds throughout the room and you smirk at her entertaining phone greeting.

"Hello my beautiful computer genius, can you do me a favor?" You speak first and you can hear her laugh through the phone.

"Oh my darling anything for you." Her voice is melodic and you shake your head at her antics. You love Garcia, she's one of your closest friends inside and outside of work.

"Can you find anything on a James Hilton from the Boulder, Colorado area?" You ask her, knowing your answer is about to be served on a silver platter in just a few moments. Garcia's quick typing echoes through the phone.

"James Hilton, born and raised in Boulder. Has been working as a property manager for the last ten years at the property you all are staying at. Has one traffic record from the nineties, but other than that he's clean." She says, but you were hoping for something more incriminating.

"Anything about a wife, or a girlfriend? Maybe even a sister or mother?" You ask her, staring down a the painting.

"It looks like he was in a long term relationship with Valerie Wilson, also of Boulder. But according to her Facebook page, they are over with." She says, Spencer and you looking at each other, knowing you may have just found a potential piece of the puzzle.

"Perfect. Can you tell me what she looks like and how to contact her?" You ask and write down the details Garcia recites. After you get the needed information, Spencer hangs up and calls Hotch to inform him of what the two of you just found out. Hotch tells us that he's on his way back to the cabin after he's done with the last interview.

The painting lays in front of you two, and you take a seat on the arm of the chair Spencer is sitting in, your leg brushing up against his and your arm resting behind his head to keep yourself stable. Your eyes are glued to the discoloration, and you know there's just something about it that's more than just not being able to find the right shade.

"Is there a way to see if something has been painted over?" You ask Spencer rather than Googling it, knowing he can probably get you an answer faster. He clears his throat and nods his head.

"A few years ago it was found that Vincent Van Gogh painted over several of his works due to the cost of canvas. Experts used x-ray to see through the layers, revealing the original painting." His answer is exactly what you were looking for.

"We have to get this thing x-rayed. And someone needs to contact Valerie and ask her about her relationship with James. His tool shed should be examined as well" You jump off the chair's arm, ready to leave immediately, but having to wait for Hotch before you can proceed with anything else.

-----

Hours later, your leg is bouncing up and down, eagerly awaiting the results of the x-ray. The hospital staff had never encountered something quite like this, but you were thankful that they were cooperative. Spencer had come along with you while Hotch stayed back to get in contact with Valerie. You check your phone every ten seconds to see if you have a new message for him, but your screen is blank.

Thankfully, a few minutes later an x-ray technician comes out and beckons you to a dark room where she clips the x-ray images onto a lightboard. While the images aren't in color, you can still see exactly what you need to. The images show that where the discoloration is, there used to be a woman standing and a man on one knee. A gasp leaves your mouth, the pieces finally fitting together in your mind. Without a doubt, James is the unsub.

Spencer and you race back to the cabin and spill the findings to the rest of the team. Hotch informs you that Valerie had confirmed that James recently proposed, but she turned him down. All of the victims match her appearance. He must have been killing to fulfill some sort of revenge he felt was necessary.

The team calls each of the resorts that James is employed at only to find that he's not at any of them. While the others scramble to try and find a way to find him, your eyes land on the guestbook.

"Guys. I can call him. He told me his number is in the guestbook and we know I fit the profile. He won't be able to help himself." You say, and the others don't have any good reason as to why you shouldn't do it. Your hands shake from the adrenaline as you dial the numbers and the phone rings, your heartbeat resounding in your ears. You're so close to catching this depraved man.

"Hello?" He answers finally. You let go of a breath you weren't aware you were holding and speak up.

"Hi James, you told me to call you if I needed help with anything. And, um, I think I might have broken one of the outside lights." You quickly come up with a lie, hoping to lure him out here for the arrest. You hear him moving around on the other end and the start of an engine.

"Of course, I'll be there in just a moment, honey." He says and you hang up the phone, trying not to gag from his pet name.

It takes James all of fifteen minutes to reach the cabin. When he pulls up, the entire team is waiting for him, but you were the one with cuffs in your hands. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Hotch and Morgan were out the door ordering him to the ground. With smug satisfaction, you step over the man and secure his hands in cuffs behind his back.

As the local police show up to take him away, he's spitting every expletive in the book at you. Rage and hatred show themselves very clearly on his face, and you see who he really is. You smile sickly sweet at him as he's shoved into the back of the cop car. Another monster off the street, unable to do harm to another woman. It's like a weight gets lifted from your shoulders.

-----

After the excitement of the arrest, you come down off your adrenaline rush. The rest of the team are packing, getting ready to leave in the morning, but you can't find it within yourself to do it. You're too struck by the beauty in front of you to worry about going back home. You just don't want to part with this yet. So you find yourself out on the wraparound porch once more, the sun retreating far too quickly behind the horizon for your liking.

Despite the waning sun, the landscape looks brighter, more vibrant now that you know that the killer is in custody. Usually, the team gets only a few hours of celebration before you're saddled with paperwork and the next case. A bird flies past again, and you appreciate its freedom again. Its sweet melodies carry in the breeze and soothes your weary soul.

You love your job, you can't imagine doing anything else, but it does wear on you. Both physically and mentally. Before you had started working with the team, you never could have imagined the kind of evil lurking everywhere, even in a place as gorgeous as this. But now, it's like wherever you look, no matter how beautiful the surroundings, you can always spot something amiss. You feel weighted by the knowledge of what reality actually is.

The familiar sound of the sliding door catches your attention, and you see Spencer coming towards you, blanket in hand. A smile finds its way onto your face as he closes the distance between you, securing the blanket around your shoulders. Just like yesterday, he stands right beside you, admiring the view.

"The others are all leaving tonight, they said they want to get a headstart on the papers. But I told them we'd go back in the morning." His voice is raspy, yet soft.

"But what about the plane?" You ask, eyebrows knitting together. He shrugs his shoulders and looks down at you.

"I told them we'd fly back in the morning, already have the tickets arranged." He says, easing some of your anxiousness, but not satisfying your curiosity.

"Why?" You search for the answer on his face.

"Because I saw how much you like it here. You deserve one workless night." He says with sincerity and your heart swells at the sentiment. You fully turn towards him, soft blanket draped lightly across your shoulders. You notice that Spencer has traded his button up for a simple pullover. Something so simple has never looked so good before.

"Thank you, you really didn't have to-" He cuts you off with a smile,

"I know, but I wanted to." He admits, pink coloring his cheeks. You stare up at him in awe, not quite sure what you did to deserve his thoughtfulness. Not being able to hold back your affections, you reach out and engulf him in a hug.

"Thank you, Spencer." You reiterate into his chest, feeling his arms wrap around you. After a few fleeting, precious moments, you let go of him. Staring up into his eyes, you reach a hand up and stroke the soft skin of his cheekbone with your thumb. He doesn't flinch from your touch like he does with others, no, he leans into it as if he's savoring the feeling.

His arm that was around your waist come up to cup your cheek, and he gently brings your face towards his, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You hold him close, a flurry of warmth spreading from your face down to your body. His other hand finds its way around your waist, securing you to his body.

You break the kiss as your chest begins burning with the need of oxygen, and he rests his forehead against yours. Your hands come up to gently grasp the sides of his face, keeping him in place so that you can admire his beauty. After minutes pass by in silence as you two appreciate each other, Spencer tilts his head up and kisses your forehead.

He turns you around so that you're facing away from him, and he grabs the blanket from around your shoulders. Seconds later, you feel him standing behind you, wrapping the soft blanket around the both of you. His chest is behind you, and he hands you the edges of the blanket so that his hands might find the soft curve of your waist. Spencer pulls you in to him so that you're leaning back on his chest.

Spencer rests his head atop of yours as the two of you relax your minds and bodies, focusing solely on each other and the scene in front of you. Your hands come down to entwine themselves with his with a soft smile on your face.

A lone tear falls from the corner of your eye as you're overcome with emotion. You cannot recall a single time in your life that you've felt this serene, where everything just feels perfect. Your soul is well nourished and full from Spencer alone. All of those cases you worked together, the stolen glances across the office, the simple acts of kindness and thoughtfulness for each other has culminated to this one precious moment in time; and you've never felt more content.

The sun eventually sets behind the horizon, the chilly breeze billowing the blanket around you both. Above you in the sky, the stars shine brightly, and you tip your head back to admire them. You can never admire their true beauty in Quantico, their shine is dulled by light pollution, but you can see them clearly here. You can see everything clearly here.

"You know, scientists estimate that there are about two hundred sextillion stars in the sky within the Milky Way." Spencer whispers in your ear as you two bask in their soft white light. You turn around in his hold and smile up at him,

"And yet none shine as brilliantly or as beautifully as you." You say, and pull him in for another soft, heartfelt kiss. As you pull away, you watch as his eyes flutter open and he smiles endearingly. You've never seen such a beautiful sight, never felt comfort as warm as him, and you know as you lean into his embrace, that you will not bear the weight of this world or this life alone.

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jeynearrynofthevale · 7 months

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Just watched the Connor McDavid: Whatever it Takes documentary and my main takeaway is that he’s insane but here are a bunch of random notes and pics:

““If it was up to my mom, we probably would’ve been a skiing family”

The drive, that’s who he is, he’s always been that way, since he was probably 3 or 4, he refused to let his parents help him get dressed and he would carry his bag everywhere, the bag was bigger than he was

“He’s intense and he’s competitive”

Bobby Orr said when he was 15 that he was gonna be the greatest skater to ever play

Tracy Wilson: Olympian and skating coach “what I love about Connor is it’s all about power, doesn’t matter how it looks, it’s about getting there”

Kassian “we haven’t seen a player like that in the game in maybe forever”

McDavid “at the end of the day, you’re still playing an nhl game, but that’s not much to hang your hat on” in reference to being out of the playoffs

“Right on the post square and I just felt the pain right away, thought I’d just broken my leg into a couple pieces”

They keep replaying him going into the net at top speed and it’s fucking horrible to watch

He whispered to me “I think it’s broke”- Kassian

“I was having flashbacks to Stamkos’s energy and I know stammer really well”

Stamkos texted therapist: “did he break his tibia?”

“If I could do it all over again, you’d like to take it back”- giordano

Team physical therapist asked if he could move his leg and told him he could either try to get up or call the gurney. Connor said “no, no, no” and stood up even though he was worried and thought his leg was going to give out”

“I held it together until we got though the tunnel and then I was just a mess” it took them 10 minutes to get back to the room

He said “stop, just give me a second”

3 guys had to hold him up the way back

Lauren “it was really hard when he called me, he just said “I think I broke my leg””

Brian “he was really upset and in pain, as a parent it’s hard”

Kelly: “it’s the worst thing in the world”

“Maybe in hindsight it would’ve been better if it was broken”

Never realized the infamous scene where Leon squeezes Connor in the hallway is from this.

Grade 2 strain of his pcl

“Hey dad, just want you to know I’m going for a second opinion in Colorado Springs”

Doctor told him it was a full pcl tear where tears on bth sides of his miniscus, “tore the popliteus right of the bone”

Full reconstruction of the knee, pcl, and popliteus would require a year recovery, doctor said he needed to do it asap, within a few day

“He was distraught, very, very under described”

His mom wanted him to have the surgery

Surgical intervention is to give it stability back

Had to make decision in 48hrs about whether or not to operate.

“He was very emotional and it was very difficult for him to talk.”

3rd opinion in LA: 2nd doctor is right about the issues but thinks the surgery is risky and doesn’t believe in it, wants to try to rehab it

Had to make that decision at 22 in 24 hours

Pcl cut right in half, back of knee joint completely torn, popliteus also completely torn, lateral and medial meniscus are both torn, crack in front of tibia from where he hit the post

“Hockey is my life”

He wanted to hear that he didn’t need surgery

His rehab guy literally lived with him

7 days a week, 10 hrs a day

50% chance to get him maybe skating again by end of summer

He was in a hyperbaric chamber daily for 40 days, 2 hours at a time

Claustrophobic in a literal tube

“At one point, doctor cleared him to flex his quad muscle”

They had to keep the injury as secret as possible, didn’t tell Ken Holland how bad it was

He would call his mom right after every mri appointment

He was in the pool all the time working on his knee

While rehabbing, his core specialist was like “might as well work on everything while we’re stuck here” and they worked on his core, pelvic floor, rotational movement, spine, everything

Gymnastics coach also helped

Didn’t want him to skate till September

He went on the ice with just his dad on his doc’s recommendation before September

He was so happy to be back on the ice with his father, completely changed emotionally that day

You can really see how much he loves just skating

He was so happy to know that even if he couldn’t fully heal he could still go on with the brace and skate

He’s so smooth in these skating exercises while in an insane brace

“One thing to be out there playing the game but another to do it at the level he was capable of”

Tracy Wilson did in their own words “edging” with him for afternoons, taking him through all sorts of movements and exercises without his brace

Opening night started to look like a possibility

He wanted to be there for training camp

He decided not to participate in biosteel

He wanted to play in all 7 exhibition games even though most veterans only did 4

“Like my first game all over again”

Seeing him on opening night was incredible for his training people

Okay, seeing the canucks slashing at him and shoving him into the boards in the home opener is now making me so protective

“He willed himself back”

#Connor McDavid #97 #hockey #oilers #Edmonton oilers #McDavid #cmd #mcjesus

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videogamesincolor · 9 months

Text

“I do think her work has informed the industry,” Mark Chen, a lecturer at the University of Washington Bothell, said. “I mean, part of the reason we keep hearing about harassment or sexism in the industry I think is because of her efforts and others like her who (forcibly) made space for others to follow.” Her work also continues to be referred to in academia, where it influences students who may go on to develop games. Tropes vs. Women in Video Games is a staple on digital media and video game class syllabuses. Marc Santos, an associate professor of English at the University of Northern Colorado, used Feminist Frequency in an undergraduate English class that’s focused on research writing on video games. Santos said he uses Sarkeesian’s work on Feminist Frequency because it stands up to this day, but also as a way to show students how to research and present analysis and criticism. In a recent project, students used videos like “Lingerie Is Not Body Armor” and “Strategic Butt Coverings,” which analyze the male gaze in video games, as a basis of analysis of clothing in the first 100 role-playing games that pop up on Steam. “I think there’s a lot of students — both men and women — who sort of realize that the portrayal of women, and all marginalized groups, in video games is bad. But Sarkeesian’s work helps focus their attention,” Santos said. “She provides a lens through which it becomes almost impossible to deny or ignore the extent of the problem.” Tropes vs. Women in Video Games continued until the end of 2017, and through years of abuse and harassment that one could simply call hell. The harassment Sarkeesian and her team experienced is unconscionable and included dangerous levels of violence, like bomb threats made at events Sarkeesian was attending. Sarkeesian’s first work predated the period of time now called Gamergate — a movement that is now considered a watershed moment in the rise of far-right extremism, a channeling of decades’ worth of bigotry and hatred embedded into systems, platforms, and communities both online and off. When Tropes vs. Women in Video Games continued through Gamergate, that hatred was channeled toward her and others who advocated for better representation in games.

Around the time she started uploading videos critical of media like Joss Whedon's Dollhouse, I had my first come-to-Jesus moment with the gaming community and just how violently racist and misogynist it was in the Left 4 Dead [2] and Resident Evil 5 fanspace.

Nothing has changed about the L4D[2] and RE fanspace, or gaming, in that regard (they just moved to Reddit). But when she started uploading videos critical of gaming culture and the toxicity of that space, I was grateful to see the pushback, because it gave rise to other voices that occupied areas she either missed or weren't her focus.

It wouldn't be a stretch to say that Sarkeesian, Not Your Momma's Gamer, and I Need Diverse Games, were all a big part of why the dudebro-to-Ggate culture that was once so acceptable in gaming magazines and other gaming spaces, don't have mainstream games culture by the throat any longer, and why this blog exists.

#videogamesincolor #anita sarkeesian #feminist frequency #gaming culture #media: articles #sexism in gaming #online harassment

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mignonricciardo · 2 years

Text

compromised | lh44

I got totally carried away with this… I started this after the car launch and it got out of hand so that is why this is 10k words of nothing but smut and pining

summary: after george finds the communications director and lewis in a compromising position, they try to be more careful as the season drags on. too bad lewis’ yacht isn’t as private as they thought.

notes: fingering, p in v, cursing, risky public sex, caught in the act, mostly smut tbh

Despite my best effort, I couldn’t tear my eyes from the man on the other side of the slick car. How silly to be ogling over a man that had just whispered shameless promises into my ear with everyone around. I was supposed to be unphased, but here I am turning red on the other side of the camera as the man stands illuminated beneath lights. When his eyes briefly meet mine as he shoots a glance my way, a slight smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. His earrings catch the light, and the stud in his nose glints. It feels stifling in the room as they shoot the car launch, and the heat only rises up my neck the longer I stare at Lewis in his black team shirt that clings to his chest. Tattoos peek out from the team shirt, and my fingers itch to trace the ink like muscle memory. His words from earlier replay over and over in my head.

I can’t wait to catch you after this, and make you break underneath me until you forget we’re at the office.

I’m finding myself increasingly desperate for the car launch to be over, and when the show finally ends, I take a deep breath. It’s a relief when Lewis finally leaves the set, and I feel like I can clear my thoughts. George’s press officer and communications manager sneak up to my side, calling my name as Lewis’ words still ping around in my brain. When one of them snaps their fingers in front of my face, I finally come to, offering them a smile.

“Sorry,” I shake my head. “It’s been such a long day with the launch.”

“We’ve always got coffee on if you want some,” one of them smiles before confirming our meeting later in the day.

Either they don’t notice my red cheeks or they don’t comment on them, and the pair walk away. I heave a sigh, fingers pressing to my eyelids, before weaving through the hallways back to my office. A part of me wants to find Lewis just to tease him back, but the logical part of my brain warns against finding the driver. Logic wins, and I shut the door behind me softly, sighing loudly once the latch clicks. I check the thermostat in my office, fanning my face as heat still radiates from the scrutiny of his stare. After a few minutes of quiet, I settle at my desk with papers sprawled in front of me and both monitors glaring at me with work. Thoughts of Lewis and his lewd language drift away as I’m sucked back into work, the rhythmic tapping of my keyboard becoming ambient noise in the office.

I barely register the click of my office door, but my eyes meet Lewis as he waltzes in, smile on his face and coffee cup in hand.

“It’s a good-looking car,” I comment before he even shuts the door to my office.

The smirk on his face tells me he’s here to talk about something else, “It’s a sexy car, yeah?”

His gaze holds mine as he approaches my desk with a mischievous smile. I try to keep the conversation going despite my distracted thoughts. He sets the coffee cup down on my desk, and I thank him before taking a sip.

“I can’t believe we’re already back and getting ready for testing,” I shuffle some papers on my desk to look busy. “I miss being on break with you.”

He leans against the corner of my desk before bringing his hand up to my face. His fingers brush a lock of hair away from my cheek, and I mentally scold myself as I lean into his touch mindlessly.

“I wish we had another week in Colorado,” he whispers, thumb dragging across my cheek. “Just us. No cares about anyone else. I can’t wait to whisk you away again over summer break. Our little secret.”

When his thumb moves to my lips, the rough pad brushing against my skin lightly, my breath hitches. His eyes are intent on my features as his thumb rests on the inside of my bottom lip. My mouth closes around his digit gently, and he groans as he drags it down my lip to rest the wet digit on my chin.

“You know what I miss most about our little getaway?” his voice is quiet as he hovers over me, eyes cast down to mine.

I hum in response, missing the feel of his fingers against my mouth. With his proximity and the memory of his words before the show, all my defenses and logic fall away. I become a submissive mess beneath his gaze and gentle touches.

“Fucking wherever and whenever we wanted,” his voice rasps but his facial features give nothing away. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

My eyes meet his with his hand still cupping my cheek. He smiles softly as his voice drops, “Which time are you thinking about?”

“The piano,” I whisper, eyes never leaving his intent gaze, “and the hot tub.”

“Good choices,” he grins, fingers pushing hair back away from my face.

HIs fingers linger across my skin, and my muscles quiver as I sit as still as possible, waiting for him to decide to make his move. HIs thumb brushes across my lips again before fingertips graze underneath my jaw. The rough pads of his fingers grace across my throat, and a surprised gasp breaks past my lips.

My fingers fidget in my lap as I whine, “Lewis.”

“I’m thinking about the patio,” he speaks lowly, fingers tracing my collarbone which disappears beneath my matching Mercedes team shirt, “with the fire place.”

Memories flash at his words, recalling the innumerable times Lewis had me falling apart over the winter break. He leans down, his lips replacing his fingers as they brush mine. I breathe deeply at the contact, pressing my lips to his and relishing in the moment of intimacy. My fingers make their way to the back of his neck, tugging gently at his braids as he dominates the kiss.

“I have a meeting soon,” I gasp for air against him. “George and his communications team will be here.”

“How soon is soon?” he mutters, fingers grasping at my breast beneath my shirt, crumpling the team logo on my chest.

“In 15 minutes,” I breathe as my head tips back, his fingers making their way down my shirt and toward my pants. “You should leave in 10.”

“I’ll have to be quick then,” he grins, fingers working at the button on my black slacks.

“Lewis,” his name leaves my lips as more of a plea than the intended warning.

“I couldn’t focus during the car launch with you biting your lip and moving behind the camera,” he grunts, fingers making quick work of my pants. “Trying my best to pay attention.”

“It’s your fault,” I breathe as I lift my hips for him to tug at my waistband. “You’re the one that was talking about how you couldn’t wait to fuck me.”

He chuckles against my neck, “I think I said I couldn’t wait to have you breaking beneath me, love. You make it sound so vulgar. Such dirty words from such a pretty mouth.”

I whimper at his words, hips searching for contact as his hand ghosts my inner thigh. Words fail me as my head swims, trying to find sense in the feeling of Lewis all around me. His hands work at my thighs, fingers tracing across the revealed skin as his thumb skims my covered core. Lewis chuckles darkly as his thumb stills.

“Already so desperate for me,” he grins, crouching in front of me to stare where his thumb was hovering. “So eager to break underneath me.”

“Lewis, please,” I gasp as his thumb presses more firmly against me. “I have to leave soon.”

“Please what?” he whispers. “Use your words for me, love.”

My fingers grasp desperately at the arm of my office chair, “Touch me. Anything you’ll give me.”

He laughs again at my vulnerable state, with words flying and any sense of formality out the window. His fingers finally obey as they push my underwear to the side. Cold air rushes toward my core, and I groan as his warm digits finally press into the place that is throbbing for him. My fingers clutch his wrist. He makes quick work of me, actually heeding my warning about time, and his tattooed forearm flexes as his fingers slide through my slick folds.

He chuckles as my fingers desperately grasp at the office chair while my lungs gasp for air, “You walk around like you own the place--all high and mighty--but you’re really just waiting for someone to put you in your place.”

“It’s why I have you.”

Despite the signals misfiring from my brain to my mouth from the pleasure Lewis bestows upon me, a layer of sarcasm still manages to operate correctly. I breathe the words before I even realize they’re falling past my lips, and my eyes find his lustful gaze.

“That’s it, huh?” he grins. “You challenge me because at the end of the day, you know what I’ll do to you.”

His fingers continue their torturous movements, gliding from a slow caress to slipping into me with gentle pumps. I look down to watch his tattooed fingers disappear within me, and I nod my head wildly to agree with him.

“And what do I do to you, love?” he grins, lips close to my ear as his breath fans across my neck. “I want to hear you say it.”

“You fuck me until I only remember your name,” I groan, eyes shutting as the pleasure mounts from his languid pumps.

His lips spread deeper into a smirk, “Listening to me for once. I like you like this.”

“I thought you liked me defiant,” I whimper as his thumb presses into my clit again.

His movements slow to a torturous pace, “Sometimes, love. It’s cute when you’re defiant because I know how easy you are to break.”

“Lewis, please,” I gasp, fingernails sinking into his wrist as a plea for him to continue his ministrations. “Please don’t stop.”

“I thought you had a meeting soon,” his tone is teasing as his fingers stop entirely, pressing against my walls in slow movements instead of their deep strokes.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” I gasp as I clench his hand. “Fuck, Lewis please. Please make me cum.”

“Such an act,” he mutters with a wicked smile. “Imagine George and his team knew you were like this. Their bossy executive begging for my fingers. Someone so in control and powerful falling apart under my touch—begging for me to make her cum.”

I go to answer, but Lewis suddenly resumes his lewd actions. My head falls back against my office chair as he stretches me beyond my limit. His other hand works quick circles into my clit, and my skin feels like it’s on fire as I rapidly approach the edge. Desperate moans fall past my lips, and his name grows in volume as it leaves my tongue. My legs start to spasm beneath me, and he chuckles as I beg him to push me over the edge.

“Go ahead, love,” he says against my jaw, lips brushing my heated skin. “Wish they could hear you.”

His lips crush mine to absorb the obscene moans coming from my lips, and stars burst behind my eyelids as I gasp for air into the crushing kiss. Warmth erupts from the base of my spine and spreads to my toes and scalp. My brain chants his name repeatedly, and my lips move clumsily against his as my eyes screw shut. His one hand continues to rub slowing circles on my clit while his other clutches my jaw. His digits are still wet with my arousal as they press into my cheek. Desperate pleas begin to fall from my parted lips as he breaks away for air, and his thumb continues its slow torment on my overstimulated core. The air is humid with sex, and I can hear his fingers slipping between my soaked folds.

“Lewis,” I whine quietly, struggling to come back to my senses with his fingers against me and lips pressed against my neck.

“One more minute,” he whispers as his nose brushes down my throat.

As I try to respond to him, with fingers toying at his pulled-back braids, a knock on my office door resounds. Before I even have time to process what is happening, the door handle clicks. George peers into my office, and he sees the mortified look on my face before shouting a quick apology and shutting the door. Luckily, Lewis’ hand against my sex is hidden beneath my desk, but the other driver has definitely seen my hands in his idol’s hair with his lips against my neck. He even heard his name falling from my lips in gasps of air. He may not have seen everything, but it was clear what had been happening. Lewis is ripping his hand away from me by the time the door shuts, and his eyes are wide despite the quiet chuckle that comes from his lips.

“I could fucking kill you,” I mutter. “How the fuck am I supposed to explain this?”

“Be honest,” he whispers with a grin, pressing one last kiss to my jaw to elicit a moan in spite of my anger. “Tell him how you’re so powerful until I’m in the room and you’re crumbling and begging for me.”

“Fuck you,” I spit at him. “I’m serious, Lewis.”

“There’s no denying it to him, but I’ll talk to him first,” he kisses my cheek sweetly. “I’ll catch him in the hall. Best button your pants to get ready for your meeting.”

I tuck my hair behind my ears as he begins walking away from my desk, wiping his fingers on the pocket of his pants. I watch his frame as he approaches the door.

“Lewis?” I ask, and he spins around with raised brows. “Thank you for the coffee. Even though you’ve made my life infinitely harder now, I appreciate you.”

“Life definitely just got interesting,” he grins mischievously. “Good luck in your meeting, love. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

As the door shuts behind him, I hear him greet George, and blood rushes to my face as my heart pounds. I take a moment in my office to gather my thoughts and make sure I look presentable. I smooth out my hair and my team shirt that Lewis crushed beneath his rough palms. I flick on the oil diffuser next to my monitors. Lord knows I could use some lavender to calm me down and mask the sex in the air. With another deep breath, I open my office door to see George and Lewis at the end of the hallway. The tattooed driver claps George on the back as he walks away, turning to me with a smile that George catches. The young driver makes his way toward me, mouth open with an apology ready. I hold a hand up to stop him, waving him into my office before he can begin.

“I’m sorry, George,” I start. “That was wildly unprofessional of us, and I’m sure uncomfortable for you. You have to understand that I take my job very seriously, and I value my role within this team.”

George just looks at me incredulously, “I never doubted it. Please, don’t worry about me. Lewis filled me in a bit. Your secret is safe with me.”

My toughened demeanor softens a bit at his understanding, “I truly appreciate that, George. I prefer how things are right now.”

“My mum and my girlfriend would approve,” he grins. “They both have massive crushes on him.”

“There’s no way you just told me that,” I laugh at his comment, finding his youthful energy refreshing.

He laughs along with me, “After what I’ve just witnessed? I think anything I say will get a pass for a couple weeks.”

“With me, yes. Your team and the media? That’s a different story.”

Ever since George caught us in my office at HQ, Lewis and I have been extra careful in our meetings. I made team spaces strictly off limits after George made a cheeky remark at the W-13 shakedown when I held a meeting with Lewis about media availability. He walked through the garage with a sly grin on his face, and I stood in the corner with a slight blush on my cheeks. Lewis tried to stifle laughter at his teammate’s comments while I stood turning bright red in the garage, and the rest of the team didn’t even bat an eye.

Despite the disappointing race for Lewis in Monaco, he still wanted to celebrate with the team for George’s performance and the team’s improvements. He invites me just like the rest of the communications department, but he adds a sly wink to his comments that only I catch. The entire time he is working his way through the hospitality suite, inviting team member after team member, I struggle to pay attention to anything other than the way his black fireproofs cling to his chest and his earrings glint in the light. I say a mental thank you when the tattooed driver exits the suite back toward his motorhome to change.

The yacht is full of out of uniform team members. It looks like the Mercedes garage minus the team logo. I step on to the boat with Toto and Susie, chatting with the Scot about events back in the UK as her husband helps us from the dock to the swaying vessel. She compliments the sundress I am wearing opposite to her white jumpsuit, and Toto makes a comment about the warm weather Monaco is experiencing. Just as I am about to answer my boss and friend, Lewis appears around the deck with a wide smile.

“You’ve made it,” he grins, hugging all three of us quickly.

He makes sure to keep his hands from lingering on me as he pulls away, something he was finding difficult with the sundress on my body, “I’m so glad you came. I wasn’t sure you’d make time for it.”

Toto chuckles at Lewis’ comment directed at me, and I respond with a smile and sarcasm, “I’ve always got time for you, Sir Hamilton.”

The married pair next to us laughs wildly as the driver looks at me, the look in his eyes not going unnoticed, “I’ll have to remember that.”

Lewis guides the three of us back toward the large deck on his yacht, and when the Wolffs sit on one of the plush seats, Lewis offers to get them a drink. He asks if I’ll help him to leave the two a private moment, and I nod as Susie thanks us. Lewis’ arm brushes mine as he guides us toward the bar. His hands instinctively settle at the small of my back when a partygoer bumps into me, and his large hands steady me. They don’t leave my side until I lean against the wood finish of the bar.

“I like your dress,” he says nonchalantly after ordering, eyes focused ahead where more people are entering the yacht.

He knows exactly what he is doing as a smirk plays at the end of his lips. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, taking in his creme pants and sheer shirt. Jewelry adorns his body, and my eyes catch the rings on his fingers as they slide across the bar top.

“Still protesting the FIA?” I grin as the bartender slides the wine and champagne to us.

“Somewhat,” his smirk is full-fledged now. “I remember someone saying they like these rings, so I wear them when I get the chance now.”

My cheeks light up with red as I look more closely at the rings on his delicately tattooed hands. The silver rings glint in the light of fledgling sunset, pressed against the cool champagne flutes. It’s like I can feel the imprint those hands left on the sides of my throat the longer I stare at his fingers, and memories of the cool metal against my skin surface. He chuckles quietly at my ogling, an arm wrapping around my waist suddenly as he pulls me away from an already buzzed partygoer as he comes barreling toward the bar. The champagne tips over the top of the flute lightly, dripping down my knuckles in a short ravine. I bring my hand to my lips, locking eyes with him briefly as I lick the sweet alcohol from my skin before thanking him for pulling me out of the way.

“Does this count as a team space?” he asks quietly, glancing around before his eyes return back to mine.

His gaze is hard as his arm around my waist loosens, and I make a mental note about how I’ve made him react.

“Inherently, no,” I start, holding back a frown as his arm drops from my waist as we head back toward our waiting friends. “With everyone here, yes.”

“How about in a few hours when everyone is drunk and the sun has set entirely?” his voice is gruff. “I’m sure you remember some of the more private places on the yacht.”

Images flash of previous times on his boat--laying out on the back deck covered by a beach towel, the couch on the interior when it started raining, the hot tub. He grins as he looks at my glazed over gaze, and he nudges me gently across the threshold to the deck with his knee.

“Good girl,” he comments quietly, and my fingers tighten around the champagne flutes in my hands. “You do remember.”

My mouth opens to answer, but with his praise pinging around in my head, my tongue fails me. I close my parted lips, nodding gently at him before continuing across the umber deck. Behind him, his eyes watch my every movement across the deck as we approach our friends, and his jaw hardens as my dress blows in the sea breeze, revealing more and more of my thighs as I walk.

“We were just talking about the two of you!” Susie smiles broadly as we appear, taking a glass for her and Toto out of my hands. “We were thinking of another brief vacation over the summer break like a few years ago. Remember the villas in Italy?”

Lewis has to hold back a grin when my shoulders visibly tense. That trip is what started whatever this entanglement is between the two of us, and our friends have no idea that what they planned as an innocent retreat had done the exact opposite of its intentions. His hands brush mine as he grabs both glasses--one for him and one for me--and he directs me to sit on the plush bench with a nod.

“I loved the villas,” I try to recover a sense of composure, but I’m painfully aware of his eyes on me. “They were so peaceful and quiet.”

“And massive,” Lewis comments, sitting next to me so that I’m caged in between him and Susie. “I swear I could hardly hear you on the other side of the villa.”

I swallow thickly as flashes from that trip start in my head, and I nervously smooth out the material of my dress to occupy my hands. Lewis watches my fingers press down on the fabric over my thighs.

“I’m sorry again about sticking you two in there together,” Susie starts after taking a sip of her wine. “I still swear the booking said three bedrooms, not two.”

“No way was I making you both fight over who got the bed and who got the couch,” Toto laughs, arm wrapped around his wife. “I think sharing the villa brought you both a little closer, though. I like to take credit for that, at least.”

“I think we learned about each other on that trip,” Lewis smirks, one of his hands resting on my lower back and hidden from the couple next to us. “I learned she’s not as bossy as she seems, and she’s actually willing to listen to someone else for once.”

My jaw nearly drops as Lewis reveals the information from that fated trip, and my brain freezes as flashes of our lust-filled trip clog my reason. That was when Lewis learned about my desire for approval, and when praise fell from his mouth, I practically fell to my knees. The bill sent to Lewis for the broken items from the villa was a testament to our newfound relationship.

“I learned that all you have to do is stroke his ego, and he’ll do whatever I ask,” I fire back, smirking when his fingertips press into my back with more force. “Sure, we were already friends we had been working together so long, but there had been some hiccups along the way. Italy really worked out the kinks in that relationship.”

It’s his turn for his jaw to harden as he bites down on his back molars, grinding his teeth to draw attention to something other than my words. I try not to laugh as the couple next to us touch hands and smile, believing they had helped forge the strengthened friendship of Lewis and me. They had brought us together in Italy, but there was much more to that trip than they know about. It’s still hard to believe they couldn’t hear us from their balcony.

“That was one of my favorite trips,” he smiles as he takes another sip of champagne from his glass. “I think my most recent trip to Colorado is my favorite, though.”

My stomach drops, knowing the teasing is far from over at the mention of Colorado.

“The pictures looked stunning!” Susie smiles at Lewis. “I’m sure it was much needed to clear your head.”

“You met up with him for a bit, right?” Toto looks at me, a certain look in his eye that causes dread to pool in my stomach.

I nod my head, “I was headed out to Utah for some retreat after the season. I made a pit stop in Colorado to check in with Lewis.”

His voice suddenly softens as his eyes hold a sincere look to them, “I was grateful she stopped by. Obviously, I wasn’t in the best place following the end of the season, and she made sure to treat me as she would any other time. Plus, it was nice to catch up outside of the paddock.”

I notice Susie elbow her husband gently at Lewis’ confession, and I can’t help but feel my heart quicken in my chest. I turn to him with a genuine smile, but a coyness plays in my gaze and in my words.

“It was nice to catch up, yeah?” I turn to the Wolffs, laying a hand on Lewis’ forearm as I speak. “We skied a bit, and I got to see the mysterious cabin we hear about all the time. My favorite part about it was this outdoor patio and fireplace. He surprised me, honestly. I was worried about him after the season, but he was more concerned with my wellbeing following the grueling season than his.”

It’s Toto’s turn to elbow his wife at my words, and Susie beams at us, “We haven’t even seen the infamous cabin. I swear you’re the only person who has.”

Lewis leans forward to glare at his boss and his wife, “She was already on the way out. Next time you find yourselves on the west coast, give me a call and you’ll get the tour.”

The pair next to us laugh, and I find myself trying not to lean into Lewis’ side. Eventually, the pair head off to greet more guests on Lewis’ yacht, and the driver extends a hand out to help me up from my spot on the plush bench. A brisk breeze blows through the deck, sending my hair and dress billowing around me. Lewis watches with baited breath, biting back a smile as the sun dips closer to the horizon. His hand lingers in mine, pulling away once I’ve smoothed out the material around my hips.

“I should go greet all of my guests,” he states matter-of-factly, eyes locked on mine.

“Don’t let me hold you up,” I smile gently, reaching for his empty champagne flute.

He pulls it back from my reach, “I’ll get us another glass. They’ve waited this long for me to greet them. What’s a little longer?”

I can’t help but stare as he walks away from the bar, jewelry and sheer shirt sparkling beneath the last rays of orange sun and yacht lights. My eyes linger on his delicately tattooed fingers curled around the glass in his hand. I mingle with other team members, drinking a few more glasses of the sweet alcohol, but my thoughts never stray too far from the British owner of the yacht. As the night continues, I find myself growing tired of the constant commotion in the Monaco harbor. My forearms press against the smooth railing, and I lean my weight into the structure keeping me from the Mediterranean below. My eyes follow gentle waves lapping against the side of the yacht.

“I think he’s got a soft spot for you.”

I turn to look at Susie who stands next to me, holding out a glass of water which I graciously accept.

“Who?” I ask her, sipping from the glass in my hand.

She leans into the railing with a laugh, “Don’t be daft. Lewis, you knob.”

I smile gently, shaking my head as I look back to the sea, “We’re just similar, Susie. I think we understand each other more than we’d like to admit.”

“Please,” she scoffs as I turn back to her. “I see how you both look at each other. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but it’s something. I’ve caught both of you with that look ever since Bahrain.”

I laugh at her, trying to hide the nerves suddenly settling in my stomach, “What look?”

“I’m not sure what the look is exactly, but you both do it. Your eyes sometimes follow each other when you think other people aren’t paying attention, or you’ll both share a look that is quick but telling. It’s obvious you’re dying to get each other alone,” her elbow prods me gently with her words. “Don’t try to tell me I’m being delusional, either. I did enough of that with Toto to know.”

I try to find an excuse--some reason as to dispel her observations or shift her conclusions--but nothing comes to me. I stare at her, slack-jawed and glossy-eyed, with an empty champagne flute in one hand and a glass of water in the other. My voice shakes with her revelation, both in fear of being caught by others and fear of my emotions being caught by Lewis.

“Is it obvious?”

Susie places a hand on my forearm gently, shaking her head with a soft smile, “No, but you know you could have told me, yeah? I don’t tell Toto everything.”

I nod my head, “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just complicated in ways you wouldn’t believe.”

“I’m sure it is, considering your roles and responsibilities--what’s proper and what isn’t,” she nods. “But I’m here to talk about it if you want. I’m here as a friend, not as a team principal.”

I turn to her, holding one of her hands in mine, “Thank you, Susie.”

She nods, squeezing my hand back, “Of course. This is clearly weighing on you.”

I take a deep breath, looking around to make sure no one is too close before beginning, “It actually started in the villas on the trip we were talking about earlier. It was an accident, but we both were a little tipsy and we had been arguing all day. Tensions came to a head, and we ended up sleeping together.”

Her jaw drops, “Oh my god, you so fucked on the balcony, didn’t you?”

I nod my head with a cringe, and she answers back in a hushed whisper, “I swore to Toto I heard you guys out there, and it sounded a little friendly we’ll say, but he told me to just go back to bed!”

“I told him we had to stop--it was just a vacation thing and everything would be normal back at the track,” I begin again. “It worked for a bit, but then we were celebrating the 2017 championship, and it happened again. I guess it’s been happening ever since then.

It’s easy, yeah? We’re always working and traveling. We trust each other. He knows what I like, and I know what he likes. It just makes our time on the road a little easier and less lonely. Plus, it’s fun to sneak around sometimes.”

She grins wildly, “I’m just dying to know. How is it?”

“Life changing,” I grin at her, and she squeals like a schoolgirl. “Like jaw dropping, earth shattering, voice gone.”

“I’m assuming you’re still seeing each other sometimes,” her eyebrows raise. “Is that what Colorado was about?”

I nod gently, biting back a smile as her jaw drops, “So, I actually went with him out of concern following the season. I didn’t want him to be alone up there, and I knew Toto would give me the okay to work remotely for a bit. It essentially turned into a sex fest.”

She laughs at my comment, clutching her chest as she laughs, “I should’ve known you were getting it somewhere. You were way too laid back over the break every time I talked to you.”

“It was nice to spend that time with him, though,” I say. “Time to just be whatever it is that we are instead of sneaking into his driver’s room or my office at HQ.”

“You’re joking,” she starts. “His driver’s room and the motorhome? Your office? You’ve not been caught yet?”

I cringe at her words, “Okay, so, reminder that this is as my friend, not as my boss’ wife and partner in crime.”

She nods, “I’m scared, but I’m listening.”

I take a deep breath, rushing through my words as if she won’t be as upset if they come out quicker, “George may or may not have caught us in my office after the car launch.”

“Oh my god,” she breathes out, fingers pressed to her forehead. “I can’t believe how risky you’ve gotten.”

“It’s his fault!” my voice raises in volume, drawing the attention of some people which causes me to grow quiet again. “It’s like he completely clouds my judgment. I can’t get enough.”

“Well, based on what I’ve seen tonight, I’d say the same for him,” she starts. “He can’t take his eyes off you with that dress. Did you wear it on purpose?”

“What do you mean?” I ask her. “I wanted to dress up some for the yacht, and I thought this dress gave a Mediterranean feel.”

“It does, but it also makes your ass look good and gives him easy access,” she says with a shrug. “Have you not heard what they say about sundresses?”

I shake my head as my friend responds, “All you need to know is that he hasn’t looked away from you all night. If I had to guess, he wants to fuck you on his yacht if he hasn’t already.”

My cheeks burn red, “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely!” she elbows me. “I think you should go find him, and you’ll see I’m right.”

“So, you want me to find Lewis to see if he’ll fuck me on his yacht?”

“Oh, I already know he will, I just want to see if I’m right about the sundress. It’s a hypothesis I’m testing with Toto,” Susie grins as she nudges me toward the bar.

“Susie!”

Hey eyebrows quirks, “After everything you just told me, I think I’m allowed to tell you that.”

She pushes me again toward the bar, turning away and making her way back to her husband as I step across the deck into the plush interior of Lewis’ yacht. He leans against the counter of the bar, ring-adorned fingers around a glass of water, as he speaks to some guests I don’t recognize. When he sees me approaching, dress blowing in the breeze making its way off the ocean, he smiles widely, introducing me to the people he was talking to. I stand by his side as he finishes his conversation, offering responses and head nods where appropriate. I try to hang on to the conversation, barely catching questions about my work as I become acutely aware of the driver next to me.

“She’s the best in the business,” Lewis smiles, answering on my behalf. “She keeps my ass in line and on time. We’re lucky to have her on the team.”

The guests laugh at his comment, with one of them in a designer dress shirt speaking up, “I’m sure she keeps you busy then with all your media.”

He grins broadly, “And other things. I do pretty much whatever she asks.”

I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek at his words, and my arms rests on the bartop to keep my knees from giving out. It’s a smooth transition that doesn’t draw any attention from the guests, but Lewis notices immediately.

“It’s a good working relationship,” I nod my head. “We both understand what makes each other tick, so we know our boundaries pretty well. I oversee the communications of the team, but I pay special attention to Lewis’ schedule.”

“We’ve pretty much grown up in the team together,” he smiles, but there is a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve learned a lot about her since we first started working together.”

The guests ask the driver more questions, but I lose all focus on them when his hand brushes the back of my thigh, dipping beneath the fabric of my dress and hidden from the view of the guests in front of me. His cool rings ghost across my skin, and I breathe in sharply as the metal sends goosebumps across my skin. One of the guests notices, and she looks at me with concern in her eyes.

“Are you alright?” her voice is gentle and gaze soft.

Mentally, I want to turn around and kick Lewis in the shins for being this risky, but all I can manage is a weak nod of my head as I focus on his fingertips on my skin.

“Just feeling a bit seasick,” I muster. “The champagne isn’t settling great, either.”

Lewis bids a goodbye to the guests, promising to take me for some fresh air. I say goodbye to them as we pass, and Lewis is sure not to let his hands linger as we walk past them. My brain is hazy as we make our way back toward the deck, and goosebumps continue erupting on my skin from his touch and the sea breeze. I’m grateful for the darkening sky to help hide my red cheeks, and I take a deep breath of the cool air before turning to face him.

Words fail me when he comes into view, and I stare at his features beneath the glittering lights of Monaco. Warm light from the interior of the yacht illuminates his skin in an amber glow, and his jewelry glints as he shifts in front of me. His tattoos peek out from beneath his sheer shirt, and my fingers itch to trace along the familiar ink. He has a braid tucked behind each ear, and he runs a hand across his beard as he watches me with a hard gaze.

“Can this not be a team space anymore?” I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear over the partygoers that remain.

He smirks as he leans in a bit closer, my eyes never leaving his face, “That’s your decision, love. You’re calling the shots.”

I look around at the remaining guests, seeing Susie and Toto across on deck on the other side of the yacht. He has his arm around her as they lean into the railing, laughing about something as we pass other boats.

“I told Susie about this,” I whisper, voice quiet as he looks at me. “Tonight. She asked me about it.”

I anticipate a reaction from him, but he just looks at me with his stoic expression, voice steady with a rasp working its way through his words, “What did she ask?”

“She said she thinks you have a soft spot for me,” my voice grows even quieter as he takes another step closer to me, blocking me from the rest of the partygoers. “She said she’s seen the look we give each other.”

“And what are these looks that Susie sees?” his voice falls deeper, eyes boring into mine.

“Ones that scream we want to get each other alone,” I mumble, breathing deeply as his chest brushes against mine.

“And what else did you tell Susie about us, love, hm?” he asks with a dark look in his eye. “Did you tell her how willing you are for me? All I have to do is call you my pretty girl and you’ll go weak in the knees?”

My eyes flutter shut at his words, and I bite my cheek to keep from doing anything that will draw the attention of the other guests, “I told her about the balcony in Italy, and I told her why I went to Colorado. I told her about the office when George came in.”

Lewis smirks, taking another glance around the remaining guests, “Why don’t you be good, and head up toward the upper deck, yeah? When we’re done, you can tell her all about how I ruined you on my yacht with half the team on it.”

“Lewis,” I breathe deeply, eyes meeting his as my thighs press together beneath my dress.

He catches my movement, and his fingers suddenly rest on the small of my back. They sink into the light fabric blowing in the breeze, and I shiver when I can feel his body heat radiating through the thin fabric.

“I’ll tell everyone you were feeling ill,” he reassures me, fingers lightly pushing against the small of my back to nudge me forward. “I’m just being a good friend and taking care of you.”

His voice changes a bit at the word friend, and my feet follow the momentum of his push as I take hesitant steps across the deck. Guests blur by me as I focus on the pathway toward the upper deck, and I don’t stop when Lewis does to tell some of his engineers that I’m not feeling well. I continue my trek up the steps and through the interior, emerging on to the upper deck in silence. Partygoers below laugh and cheer, and glasses clink as they consume more alcohol. I turn around when I hear footsteps, and my worries ease as Lewis appears with a gentle smile. He stands on the other side of the deck for a moment, eyes raking across my figure as his smile grows.

“God, you look stunning tonight,” he whispers, eyes coming back up to my face.

“Susie said it’s the dress,” I mumble, taking a step toward him. “Apparently sundresses are the thing to wear around you.”

He nods approvingly as I stop in front of the plush bench, “She was right. I haven’t been able to look away from you all night, but it’s not just the dress.”

He takes a step toward me, hands finally grasping my hips roughly as he spins us around. He guides me toward the entrance of the upper deck, pressing my back gently against the tinted glass, and his knee slides in between my legs as I whimper. Goosebumps rise on my skin as the sea breeze blows across us, and his broad back blocks some of the chilled wind. My hands rest around his neck, fingers tracing across the collar of his shirt and the pendant of his necklace that dips beneath the sheer fabric. My fingers linger at the top of the compass tattoo on his chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you all weekend,” I whisper, looking back up to his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

His knee wedges itself deeper between my legs, and I gasp as his thigh rests against my core. He smirks as he leans in toward my jaw, lips brushing across my skin leaving barely-there kisses. My hands grasp at his shoulders, and I roll my hips gently against his thigh as he presses it more forcefully against me.

“I can tell,” he whispers quietly, lips pressing against my collarbone as he flexes his thigh beneath me. “You look so pretty trying to get off on my thigh.”

“Lewis, please,” I whimper, hands crumpling the expensive fabric around his shoulders.

His lips come crashing into mine, tongues clashing as I continue to roll my hips against him. Lewis grips my hips with a bruising force, guiding me against him. I moan into the kiss as my core presses against his muscled thigh, and he pulls away with a heaving breath.

“You act like I don’t do this to you with everyone around,” he breathes into my ear. “Like you don’t want them to know what I can do to you.”

I tip my head back into the glass, “They can’t see me like this. They can’t know.”

“Why?” he grunts against my neck, his leg splitting me open so my back is the only thing pressed against the tinted glass. “Don’t want them to know you’re not so bossy after all?”

I nod my head with desperate whimpers, fingers clawing at his shoulders, “Can’t let them know I’m this weak.”

“Weak?” he scoffs. “No, not weak. You’re strong, love. You take whatever I give you and do whatever I ask. You’re bossy, yes, but not weak.”

I moan his name again, louder than before, and he chuckles quietly as he curses, “Fuck, you love when I tell you how amazing you are.”

I nod my head, feeling all of my logic and reason fall overboard as I swivel my hips against his thigh, “It’s my favorite thing.”

“You look pretty like this,” he murmurs, lips dragging up my neck as his hands dip beneath my sundress. “Playing this little game with everyone below us.”

I whine when his warm hands brush across my thighs and tug at the waistband of my underwear, pulling the fabric down my legs and stuffing it into one of his pockets. His thigh meets my core again, and this time my jaw falls open as the fabric of his creme pants meets my throbbing clit. He chuckles at my reaction, smirking as the crowd erupts in cheers below us as they react to something happening on the main deck.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he whispers, leaving kisses beneath my jaw. “You have to tell me what you want, love. You know how it works.”

“Lewis, please,” I whisper quietly, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to concentrate. “I just want you in me. Don’t care how.”

He chuckles quietly, one of his hands resting at the base of my throat and fingers curling around the sides of my neck gently, “I need more than that, love.”

Words die on the tip of my tongue when his rings slide across the skin of my neck, and his lips meet mine as I whine. The cool metal contrasts to his warm skin, and when he pulls away leaving me breathless, my hands clutch his shoulders desperately as they bunch the sheer fabric across his back. My hips desperately search for a faster rhythm against him, but he stops moving his leg and his hands grip my hips tightly to still my mindless movements.

“Want your cock in me,” I whisper, fingers sinking into the defined muscle at the base of neck and shoulders.

He grins as he leans in to meet my lips, “See, that wasn’t hard.”

My hands immediately fly to his pants, fingers tugging at the button and zipper. He kisses me dumb as my fingers fumble with his zipper and my brain focuses on his tongue pressed to mine. His hands settle over mine, stilling their fumbling as he pulls his lips away from me and his chest rises and falls rapidly. I barely have any time to gasp for air as he guides me toward the plush bench in the middle of the small deck, one hand firm on my hips as the other places my hand on the back of the bench. I follow his direction, putting my other hand on the bench as my fingers curl around the smooth edge and my palms sink into the plush fabric. My heart beats in my chest wildly as I hear the guests below, but my concerns quickly fade when I feel him press against my ass. A stifled moan falls from my lips when I feel him, and he shushes me as his knee slips between mine to push my legs wider. I oblige immediately, gasping when he lifts my sundress up and his hands slide across my hips.

“So pretty like this,” he whispers, hands caressing my bare skin as they travel from my hips to the back of my thighs. “Spread out for me and waiting for me to do something.”

His fingers creep back up my skin, spreading goosebumps in the wake of their trail and settle on my clit. I moan as he circles the bundle of nerves with two fingers slowly, cool rings occasionally brushing my skin in the heat of it all. I push my hips back into him in a desperate attempt to get him to fuck me already, and he grunts quietly.

“You’re so good for me,” he whispers, hands pulling my hips closer to him as I grind against his cock. “You’ll have to be quiet so they don’t know, love. I’m not going easy.”

“Just fuck me,” I whine in response, desperation filling my voice as my hips still mindlessly search for contact against him.

I hear the rustling of clothing, fingers digging into the plush bench as I wait, and as I whip my head around, about to hiss something for him to hurry up, words die on my tongue as my jaw falls open. His tip is hot as he pushes into me, the stretch of him rendering me speechless as he slowly enters me. I don’t miss the smirk on his face as he looks at my dumbfounded expression. My fingers clutch on to the top of the bench so tightly my knuckles turn white, and he stills inside of me when he’s met with resistance.

“Relax, love,” he whispers, hands gently moving my hair to one shoulder as he leaves a chaste kiss against my exposed shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

I push my hips back against him, desperate to feel all of him, and he lets a groan fall from his lips as he bottoms out. He immediately hits a deep spot inside of me that sends white stars bursting across my vision and my knees buckling. His large hands hold my hips with a tight grip as he sheathes in and out of me with an agonizingly slow pace, and his forearms flex as he steadies me on my wobbly feet. With each snap of his hips, I feel like I’m going to topple over as my fingers desperately claw at the curve of the bench. His name leaves my lips in breathless whispers and choked moans. One of his hands slides in between my legs, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive nerves, and I clench around him with a stifled moan.

“You feel so good,” he groans. “You always take me so well.”

My brain turns to liquid between his praise and the mounting pleasure from his increasing pace. His name falls from my lips, and it sounds so desperate that I would be blushing in any other scenario. Instead, I push myself back farther against him as I chase a not-far-off high. As I lean back into him, listening to the obscene sounds of our skin slapping, one of my hands slips off the bench and I start to tumble forward. He never slows down his blistering pace as my hand searches for the bench again for stability. His hand from my hip comes up to my neck, fingers pressing into the sides of my throat as my hand desperately claws at the fabric. His rings press into the skin, leaving red indents as my mouth falls open--too overwhelmed for sound. My whole body trembles with the force of his thrusts, and between the pleasure he gifts me, I’m clenching around him as I hurtle toward the edge.

“Good girl,” he mutters as I steady myself despite my shaking arms. “You can hang on a little bit longer.”

I try to answer him with a vehement no I can’t, but I just shake my head wildly as words fail to form from the mounting pleasure and the toe-curling way his rings press into my throat. No more than a few seconds later, and the sensation explodes across every nerve ending in my body. My mouth is wide open with shameless pleas of his name and gasping for air, and one of my hands drops from the bench to wrap tightly around his wrist still rubbing circles into my clit. My short nails sink into the supple skin on the inside of his wrist, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly around my throat as a high-pitched whine leaks out past my lips. His hips slow before they still within me as I clench around him, and he leaves gentle kisses on my shoulder and the back of my neck as my chest heaves. His fingers fall away from my dripping center and my throat, opting instead to hook one arm around my waist and place his other hand at my hip to give my wobbling arms a break. They still clutch the bench, but some of the burn eases as he takes most of my weight off my arms.

“Lewis,” my voice is breathless, “you need to-”

“In a second,” he coos, lips still ghosting across skin revealed by the sundress. “When you’re ready, love. I can feel you throbbing still.”

I just nod my head, vision returning to normal and chest still heaving for air. I still absentmindedly clench around him, and he groans into my shoulder as I do. He’s warm within me, heavy and pulsating against my walls as we both hold still as possible. I’m the first to move as I lean more weight onto my burning forearms against the bench. His breath hitches at the slight movement.

“You can move now,” I whisper.

“Love, I-”

“I can take it, Lewis,” my voice is still ragged as I regain my breath. “It’s not too much.”

His lips leave another gentle kiss on my shoulder as he whispers near my ear, “You’re too good to me. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Aftershocks of my orgasm are still rippling through me as he resumes his bruising pace, and I’m left speechless as he fucks my already sensitive cunt. The wet sounds are obscene, and I struggle to keep shameless whines and pleas from falling from my lips. When I hear footsteps on the steps, closer than anyone all night, I panic as one of my hands flies from the bench to hit Lewis behind me to get his attention. He’s so focused on chasing his high he misses my flailing hand, and I hear George’s distinct accent grow closer. My hand finally collides with Lewis’ arm, getting his attention as his hips stutter against me. He’s close to finishing in the way his chest heaves and his hips lose their steady rhythm, and when he hears the echo of George’s voice, he decides to double down and push himself over the edge.

“I’ll be right down!” his voice is strained as he answers the calls for his name.

I clench around him hard as he cums, hips moving quickly to get him through his orgasm before someone catches us. Through Lewis’ heavy breaths and his bruising grip on my hips, I miss the footsteps as they finish climbing the steps, and I catch a shuffle of Georgre’s footsteps at the top of the staircase. I nearly scream in horror, and my hand on Lewis’ arm smacks him hard before I point to the steps. There was another person coming--a second set of footsteps.

“George, man, come on!” Lewis calls, stopping his thrusts but leaving his cock nestled between my legs.

“Lewis-” I try to get his attention, but when he moves ever so slightly, I’m left speechless as he scrapes against my sensitive walls.

“Lewis, we were just wanting a team picture with-”

Part of my brain wants to scream and the other part wants to launch itself into the ocean. Toto briefly appears at the top of the steps, eyes wide and face red as he ducks back into the staircase. George is standing right behind him. I am bent at the waist, hands clutching the bench and legs parted for Lewis. My ass is covered by my sundress, and Lewis’ cock still pulsing in me is hidden between my legs. Lewis stands with his hands on my hips, and the entire scene is something out of a nightmare or a horror movie.

“Toto, I told you not to go up there!”

Susie’s voice rings from the bottom of the staircase, and I’m frozen as Lewis pulls out from me. He tugs the rest of my dress down for me, smoothing the fabric as he pulls me up from my frozen spot on the bench. When his eyes meet mine, it feels like my heart is in my throat and my mind races.

“Let me take care of this,” he whispers.

“Just bring them up,” I whisper despite the unease in my voice. “They already saw us having sex, Lewis. I need to face them, too.”

“Are you sure, love?” his eyes are gentle, and he waits for me to nod before calling the three back up.

Toto looks mortified as Susie smirks, and George looks guilty as this is the second time he has caught us. Lewis grabs one of my hands with his, interlacing our fingers in an act that sends shockwaves around us. He stands firm as he speaks, explaining enough of the situation to Toto without revealing every detail. I apologize repeatedly, and the entire time Susie smirks from behind her husband. My face is beet red. Once the initial shock has settled in, we decide to go down to keep the rest of the team from wondering what was taking so long for the picture. As we work our way down the steps, Lewis still holding my hand as he guides me down the dark steps, he grins as he speaks to our boss.

“I was thinking about that vacation over summer break,” he starts. “I think we’ll take you up on it. Definitely will need two villas this time.”

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula one x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #formula 1 smut #formula one smut

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abalidoth · 6 months

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whats your fav album/albums??

Like anyone else who was sentient and within earshot of a radio in 2012, I was aware of Call Me Maybe. It was inescapable, virulently catchy, an icepick of bubblegum straight to the tympaneum. As mocked as it was beloved, as society is unable to tolerate anything feminine.

I don't strongly remember my feelings about it at the time. I was probably self-aware enough at that point to not explicitly shit on it -- that was right around when I was making my first tentative steps towards not identifying as a guy. But my musical taste at the time skewed more towards They Might Be Giants and Imogen Heap so it wouldn't have been anything I sought out.

Flash forward to the summer of 2015. I'm in a bar in Ames, Iowa with a bunch of other mathematicians, there for the Graduate Research Workshop in Combinatorics. After a hard day of bootstrap percolation and RNA folding and graph discharging, we descended on this little college bar's trivia night like a swarm of LaTeX-using locusts. Combinatorists tend to be eclectic sorts, so trivia comes naturally to us, and I'm no exception; our four mathematician teams took the top four spots that night, and my team was first among those. There are a few other stories that came out of that night, but the relevant one is that I heard a little song over the speakers called I Really Like You.

Like Call Me Maybe, IRLY was uncompromisingly girly. But I was at a stage in my life where that was a balm to my aching soul. I had been slowly growing in my femininity month by agonizing month, living in the freezing wastes of Laramie, Wyoming. I wore skirts around the house, went by ze/hir pronouns online, but nobody in person knew. Every Friday afternoon my wife would paint my nails, and every Sunday evening I'd scrub the authenticity out of myself with acetone and a cotton ball. So the femininity of the song was appealing to me.

So, too, was the lyrical content. It was self-awarely about a liminal state in relationships, that hazy limerence where actual commitment isn't in the cards, but the feelings are strong, so why don't we ride them while we can? It's not that it hasn't been done before, but Carly Rae did it well. I added the song to the mp3 app on my phone and didn't think much more of it.

Cut to the summer of 2016. Brexit had just happened, I had just found out my dad was planning to vote for Trump. The sun over the Rockies was bright, but the world was feeling small and hostile. We were spending the week with my parents and some family in a mountain town in Colorado. Emma and I aren't the hiking sort, so when the rest of the folks went out in the wilderness, we decided to explore some of the little towns in the area. In one of those towns was a record store, and in that record store was a CD copy of E-MO-TION.

I recognized it as the album that had that song I liked from last summer. We listened to it in the car on the way back up to Laramie, and I liked it a lot. Now, we usually listened to music on the old iPod that was connected to our aux cable, rather than the CD drive. So that CD just kinda stayed there in the car.

November rolled around. Trump won the election. My dysphoria and my fear and my seasonal depression blended into a eutectic misery, greater than the sum of its parts, a suffocating miasma of soul-deep pain, that I had to keep off my face for the sake of my students.

I started listening to that CD in the car more and more. I memorized the track numbers, I knew exactly what stretches of songs were best for which emotions. That album became a lifeline for me. When I was driving an icy road in the dark on three hours of sleep, stressing about my lack of progress on my dissertation, and the intrusive thoughts came in that maybe, it wouldn't be so bad if the car spun out on the black ice?

I'd put on Making the Most of the Night. Carly Rae knew I was having a rough time, and here she was to hijack me, hijack me.

youtube

#tesseranswers #tessa writes stuff

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h-harleybaby · 1 year

Text

Wrestler Eric Cartman (aged up obvi) Pt. 9

I’VE BEEN PLAYING STICK OF TRUTH ALL DAY

LIKE SINCE 9:51 AM TIL 6:51 PM I DUNNO HOW THE TIMING COULD BE THAT PERFECT???

But yeah it was 7:32 when I started writing this so yeah

• When the team goes out to eat dinner after an important tournament he’ll push people out the way to get to you. Doesn’t have to tho because those little pricks don’t appreciate you for the most part (this totally isn’t because at my last tournament my team made me feel weird and unappreciated and like I didn’t fit in when everyone argued over who would sit next to me because no one wanted to)

• If the team sleeps at a hotel for the tournament he gets pissed off that the coaches won’t let any boys and girls sleep in the same room. It makes a lot of sense but he wants to sleep with you >:(

• Probably pays your roommate (with the money y’all got from making the team pay for snacks) to switch rooms with him after the coaches do bed checks so he can be with you

• He ignores the fact that there’s a whole other bed in the room and sleeps with you. “That bed isn’t comfortable and yours is, lemme sleep with you >:(“

• Forgot where y’all were in the morning and was very confused 💀

• Was also very mad at you for ruining his beauty sleep because you insisted on waking up at 4:00 to shower. “We go to the lobby for breakfast at 6:00 and leave at 6:30 what’s the point in that?!”

• Definitely tried to keep you in bed but you slid out from his grasp. He was not happy about that, especially because you fell on the floor when you did that

• “Dude why are you out??? Ew you look gross go back to your room.” -a wrestler after you accidentally locked yourself out of the hotel room

• That specific wrestler tried coming out of his room later and yelled at you for the same thing and that you were stupid enough to accidentally lock yourself out (totally didn’t happen to me while wearing pjs)

• Cartman “accidentally” punched the wrestler because as he said, the guy startled him while he was warming up at the tournament. “I thought I was gonna be attacked! What’d you want me to do??? Just get hurt and forfeit all my matches?”

• Anyways back on the going out for dinner thing

• Y’all had to wait outside in the cold Colorado weather for an hour because the restaurant was super busy. It was a bad day to wear your normal shorts, wasn’t it?

• Everyone was getting on each others backs and slapping each other around (chicken fighting???) and you really wanted to but none of the wrestlers wanted to with you. It’s fine, you gotta record this stuff anyways, right?

• Cartman went a step further than everyone and put you on his shoulders :)

• Y’all were so tall and you beat everyone >:)

• For the most part you and him chilled on a bench tho. Probably with your legs on him because you were cold as fuck

• Eric tried making you wear his sweatpants because he was wearing his singlet under it anyways but you kept saying how y’all would probably go inside the restaurant in a few minutes. 30 minutes later, how’s that going for you?

• Overall, y’all had a fun time despite your team being pricks and enjoyed your time together without parents <3333

Literally almost everything was based off my last tournament

They don’t treat me nicely but I won’t say anything 🥲

Pt. 5 , Pt. 6 , Pt. 7 , Pt. 8

#wrestler cartman #south park #eric cartman #i have a problem #please like this #eric cartman x reader #cartman x reader #south park x reader #eric cartman x y/n #south park x reader headcanons #south park x y/n #harley’s wrestling team <33

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fallinallincurls · 1 year

Text

tell me you want it a thousand miles away from the day that we started

i’m so excited to share this one! this is my fic for @antoineroussel‘s winter fic exchange 2k23 and it’s for @hockeylvr59 !! i hope you love this so much! it’s my first time really writing an oc and it was fun stepping out of my comfort zone to try something new. as always, shoutout to the very best @tonyspep who listened to me ramble about ideas and is just amazing.

summary: evelyn and cale were perfect, until their relationship couldn’t stand the distance of him moving to colorado. now, years later, cale runs into the girl who still holds his heart after she goes through a bad breakup and is hoping for a second chance. one that evelyn is more than happy to give him.

playlist- still by niall horan, love of my life by harry styles, always been you by shawn mendes, i’m in love with you by the 1975

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 5.6k

~~~~~

“No way in hell am I going skiing. What if I break my leg or something? Who’s going to explain that to Bedsy?”

“Nathan, there’s this thing called fun. You should try it sometime.” EJ chirps back, clapping a hand on Nate’s shoulder as the Canadian rolls his eyes.

“Just don’t break your leg, Nate. Simple as that. We’re doing this in the spirit of team bonding! It’s a team holiday trip.” Gabe says in response with a genuine smile on his perfect face.

“Yay! Team bonding!” Newy exclaims, a little over the top which makes several of them laugh including Cale.

“Can we get hot chocolate after?” JT chimes in, voice serious but hopeful like that’s the only thing that can convince him to get on the slope.

“Sure. Hot chocolate after. Now let’s go!”

Nate shuffles forward, grumbling to himself and the sight makes Cale chuckle. He’s not the biggest fan of skiing either, but he always enjoys any time he can spend with the guys. No matter what activity it includes.

This time, it just happens to be skiing at a resort in Vail. Gabe decided a team retreat would be a fun idea leading up to the holidays and you can’t say no to the captain.

So here Cale is, awkwardly standing in the lobby dressed in his ski gear and surrounded by his teammates who all have mixed reactions to what’s about to happen.

He’s just about to ask Nate if he even knows how to ski, because if not they might actually have to think up a reason to give Bedsy just in case, when a flash of bright red hair catches his eye near the entrance of the lodge.

At first, Cale thinks it’s the resident ginger of the team. But JT is ahead of him, being jostled around by Newy and Bo, so it can’t be him. Why does he care anyway?

But then, as he looks back to hopefully get another glimpse, he realizes why he cares. He realizes why the splash of red captured his attention in the first place. Because it was that exact red hair he used to see every day, run his fingers through and adored so much. Cale is frozen in place, gaze locked on the girl he still loves with his entire being. The one who got away.

Before he can think or see the confused look on Nate’s face, he’s leaving the group behind and trudging across the lobby towards the familiar red hair. He’s nervous, really nervous, but he hasn’t seen her in a few years now. And if he misses this opportunity, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself.

“Evelyn.” Cale doesn’t even recognize his own voice. He gently taps her on the shoulder and all the wind is knocked out of his lungs. Maybe it’s the time apart or Cale’s simply forgotten how gorgeous she is, but when she looks at him, he swears she is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

“Cale?” She asks in shock, brows furrowing for a moment before a beaming smile blossoms across her lips. “Cale! Ohmygosh, how are you? It’s been so long.” Evelyn gives him a quick hug and suddenly, Cale is thinking about how he’s going to have to thank Landy for this silly idea.

“It’s nice to see you.”

“You too! I didn’t know you skied. A new hobby?” Evelyn teases. It’s like nothing ever happened, no time has passed. But Cale knows that’s too good to be true.

“No, no. A team bonding trip.” Cale explains, nodding towards the door where the team left moments ago. “I’m not very good anyway.” He can feel his cheeks heating up with blush, the familiar pink becoming apparent in mere seconds.

“Oh, please. I’ve seen you skate and know you’ve got balance and coordination like no one else.”

“Uh, well, thanks.” He murmurs shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. Cale knows the inevitable end of conversation is coming. Where she tells him how great it’s been to see him and she disappears from his life again. His mind is whirring to find something to say just to keep her talking, to keep her in front of him.

He isn’t quick enough.

“It’s been nice seeing you, Cale. And I’d love to catch up more, but I have to go. Have fun on the slopes and tell everyone hi for me!” Evelyn says cheerfully, giving him the smile that he still loves before he gives his own goodbye and she’s gone.

“Dude, who’s the redhead?” Nate’s voice snaps Cale back to the present. Of course, Nate stayed behind and saw all of that. “And why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? You’re not gonna get a girl looking that terrified.”

“Geez, thanks.” Cale mutters, turning to face Nate who’s wearing a look of concern mixed with curiosity.

“Who’s the redhead?” He asks again. Nate is nothing but relentless, Cale should know this by now, and he’s going to have to explain in order for the topic to be dropped.

“Her name is Evelyn. We dated for awhile back when I was at UMass and we tried to keep it going long distance when I came here, but it didn’t work out.”

“But you’re still in love with her.” It’s not a question, but a statement.

Damn it. Why couldn’t EJ have seen the whole interaction? He would’ve just teased Cale about having a thing for gingers. Or even Gabe who would’ve given him some kind of pep talk. But no, Nate had to be the witness and he’s so observant that nothing can be hidden from him.

“Yeah, I’m still in love with her.” Cale admits, voice full of defeat and longing.

“Then why didn’t you just make your move?” The question falls from Nate’s lips with a tone of incredulously and Cale sighs. There’s so much more than them just being exes.

“She just got out of a long term relationship. They were together for a year and half or something like that. Mom told me. I can’t just jump in there like she’s okay and the last thing I want is to be a rebound.”

But Cale can’t help but wonder what exactly Evelyn is doing here. Last he heard, she had graduated from UMass and returned home to Calgary where she got her first big job and her own apartment. Plus, she had told Cale himself when they were trying to make long distance work that she couldn’t see herself living in Colorado. Yet she’s here.

Does she live here now? Or maybe she’s just visiting. That’s more realistic. But who would she be coming to see? She doesn’t know anyone in the entire state of Colorado besides him. At least that Cale knows of.

“Cale?” Nate’s voice is soft, but snaps the defenseman back to the present.

“Huh?”

“I think you should talk to her. You never know what could come of it. And you still love her! Doesn’t matter what happened in the past, I think she needs you more than you realize right now, especially coming out of a relationship like that.”

“Thanks, Gabe.” Cale says pointedly, giving Nate a look that’s supposed to be mean but he doubts it comes across the way he intends. Nate’s smile gives that away. “When did you become so wise and captain-like?”

“Just-” Nate starts, putting a hand on Cale’s shoulder shaking his head at the chirps before continuing. “Think about it. Okay?”

That’s easy, but Cale doesn’t say that out loud. All he’s going to be doing until he sees her again is thinking. Thinking about her.

Cale gets answers to all but one question when he calls his mom the next day. He barely gets through saying hello before the news bursts out.

“Mom, you’ll never guess who I saw yesterday.”

“Who?” Laura asks with curiosity.

“Evelyn. Eve, like my Eve.” The nickname rolls off his tongue naturally. Cale’s the only one who ever got to call her Eve and saying it now feels so right. Like there’s still a chance she could be his Eve again. Not Evelyn like she is for everyone else. Eve.

“Oh, honey. Did you really?”

“Yeah, we’re on this mini team retreat right now, Gabe’s idea, and I saw her in the lobby before we went skiing.” He explains, taking a deep breath. “Did you know she would be in Colorado?”

It’s a loaded question, Cale knows that, but he has to know. He’s known Evelyn pretty much his whole life and even after they broke up, their families still stayed in touch. He just needed to know more about why he saw her in the last place he ever would’ve expected.

“Um, not exactly.”

“Mom!”

“I didn’t know, Cale! Her mom said that after the breakup, Eve decided she needed a fresh start and left Calgary. That’s the last I heard. But apparently she landed in Colorado if you saw her.”

Cale is silent for a moment, absorbing everything Laura just said. Nate’s words from the other day become clear again and he knows what he’s going to do next.

“I know it might be out of nowhere, but I think she could use a friend, Cale. She’s taking this really hard and I can’t imagine how scary it might be also being somewhere completely new too. If you see her again, ask if she wants to get a coffee or something simple. You know how she loves the wintertime and that might be tainted now with everything going on.” Laura says softly and Cale knows she’s right. In fact, that’s almost exactly what he’s thinking.

“Okay, you’re right. Thanks, Mom.” Cale replies before they exchange the usual love you’s and see you soon’s. He lets out a sigh of relief and leans back against the couch. It might not have been the answers he was looking for, but now he at least knows what he has to do.

And if there’s any chance of getting back together, even just the tiniest little sliver of hope, Cale has to know. But first and foremost, he has to be the friend that Eve needs more than ever.

Not even a week into the new year, Cale finds himself back at the ski lodge where the team was during the holidays for Gabe’s grand idea. He has no idea if he’ll see Eve here again, like maybe the run-in was some twist of fate and only destined to happen once, but he has to try. As he’s running through all the options of what to say to her, Cale spots the familiar flash of red hair and his heart starts to race.

Now or never.

He walks up to the front desk in the lobby where Eve is talking to someone on the opposite side, her sweet smile on full display. Before Cale can even say anything, she senses someone next to her and turns to offer a kind look but then realizes who it is.

“Cale! How crazy is this?” Eve says, her voice full of happiness. She guides him away from the front desk, thanking the employee she was just talking to and that’s when Cale seemingly loses control of his tongue.

“Eve, hi. It’s really great to see you again.”

“You too. Do you come here often? I didn’t think you’d have a lot of time to take up skiing or anything else with how busy your schedule is with hockey.” She asks, her big brown eyes holding Cale’s gaze.

“I- uh, no, I don’t. I was hoping to see you again actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Cale starts, unsure of how to phrase what he wants to say, but Eve is looking at him so fondly and he can’t put a single thought together. “Look, I heard about what happened and I’m really sorry things ended that way. You don’t deserve that and even after all this time, I still care about you. A lot. Plus, you’re new to Colorado so I wanted to let you know I’m here for you and would be happy to show you my favorite places around here or maybe do some of the things we used to do together to cheer you up. It’s up to you.” He trails off, hoping she doesn’t notice how nervous he is.

Eve doesn’t say anything for a moment and Cale worries he already messed this up. He’s ready to face the rejection and continue on with his life as if this never happened, until Eve’s smooth voice cuts through his thoughts.

“You’re just as sweet as you were at UMass. Nothing’s changed.” She whispers, her cheeks becoming a deep color of pink. Cale swears he’s never seen anyone so adorable. Her beaming smile is directed at Cale for the first time in years and he doesn’t want that to change. “I would love that. Whether it’s seeing your favorite places or doing what used to be our favorite things. Sounds perfect to me.”

“Yeah?” Cale asks, trying to mask any shock in his voice.

“Yeah. So when do we start?”

“What about right now?” He giggles as Eve nods with excitement. It feels a lot like the old days when they would spend any possible moment together, laughing and sharing kisses without a care in the world. That kind of happiness is one Cale wants back and hopes Eve feels the same way too.

“Okay, then let’s go, Makar. We’ve got quite a lot to catch up on.”

And just like that a new routine is born. Every waking moment the two of them have is spent together. They start with seeing Cale’s favorite places around Denver, spanning between the variety of tourist attractions and the little hidden gems of the city.

Slowly, but surely, Evelyn opens up about the breakup and it physically pains Cale to see her hurting over some stupid guy who just lost the best thing that would ever happen to him. He offers nothing but his support and kind words because despite the feelings he might have for her, he still cares about her more than anything.

An unspoken list of things they used to do together, especially during the winter time, is put together. Driving around to see the Christmas lights while drinking hot chocolate, making cinnamon rolls, playing crib, a spontaneous snowball fight and so much more. The more time spent together, the more it feels as if they’re back at UMass and completely in love.

Cale doesn’t push. If all he gets is Eve as a close friend, he’ll take it. She’s back in his life and he couldn’t ask for anything more.

But with each passing day and activity done together, Eve remembers exactly why she fell in love with Cale in the first place. And it’s more obvious than ever that her feelings for him never fully disappeared. Her heart seems to be healing because of him and although she can’t admit she wants to give them another try just yet, there is something she’s ready for that Cale hasn’t mentioned once since they saw each other again at the lodge.

“Hey Cale?” She asks softly, looking up at him across the table. The cafe isn’t that busy during this time of day and Eve learned quickly this place has the best breakfast so this morning her and Cale decided to grab a bite before he had to go to morning skate. This used to be a regular occurrence for them back in college. Getting up early, sharing breakfast together while giggling over everything and then going their separate ways until Cale was back from practice. Eve starts to feel a weird sense of deja vu, but pushes through.

“Hm?” Cale hums in response, taking a sip of his coffee before meeting her gaze. He looks so adorable in the early morning light that she can’t stand it. Cheeks rosy as always, wearing a warm knitted sweater and his hair is just the perfect kind of messy, sticking up in all different directions.

“How’s the team doing? Do you like playing here?” The questions tumble off her lips innocently, but shock Cale for a moment.

“You- sorry, you want to talk about hockey?” Cale shakes his head in disbelief, blue eyes searching Eve’s face for any sign of worrying emotions.

In the last few weeks, there hasn’t been a single mention of the sport Cale plays despite the two of them planning around his practice, game and travel schedule. Eve hasn’t addressed it yet because in the end, hockey is what took him away from her, it’s what broke their relationship when it couldn’t have been better. But now, realizing she’s falling in love with him again, Eve knows talking about hockey isn’t going to ruin anything.

In fact, now, she can’t wait to hear about Cale’s career here in Colorado.

“Yeah, I do. If this,” Eve gestures between the two of them, “is going to work, I can’t be scared of something that we had no control over in the past even if it’s the thing that separated us. Plus, it’s such a big part of your life so I want to know everything, Mr. Norris and Conn Smythe Trophy winner.”

Cale laughs, that beautiful smile overtaking his face and pure joy radiating off of him. “Well someone has been keeping up, huh?”

“Please, it’s hard not to when everyone back home couldn’t stop talking about you during the playoffs and then your day with the Cup…”

Without any hesitation, Cale jumps right into telling her about everything hockey related since he got to Denver. Joining the team during the playoffs, winning the Calder, all the fun and not so happy moments with the guys over the years, how he’s trained in the offseason and of course, the biggest moment of all, winning the Cup last season.

Cale’s in the middle of telling a funny story about Nate, one of thousands, when he catches a glimpse of the time on Eve’s phone. 9:15.

“Oh shit. Eve, I’ve got to go. Morning skate.” He says quickly, kissing her cheek and making sure the check is paid for. “I’m sorry, I totally lost track of time. You’ll hear the rest of the story later I promise.”

“It’s all good, Cale. Have fun at practice! I’ll see you later, okay?” Eve says, her voice soft and Cale feels his heart swell. “And thank you for telling me about hockey again. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

“Anytime, Eve. And thank you.” With that, he offers her the kindest smile before heading out to the rink.

Cale is late. Well, not technically since morning skate doesn’t start until ten, but by his standards he’s late. He already missed the usual routine of getting ready with Nate and catching up with Devon. And the worse part is, he doesn’t have a single clue about how he’s going to explain this to the guys who will definitely be asking him what happened.

But Cale knows he isn’t good at lying and at the same time, there’s no way the team can know what he’s up to. Even if it’s making him way happier than usual.

Which of course, EJ notices right away as he’s hustling into the locker room.

“Look who decided to show up! Nice of you to join us, Caler.”

“Sorry,” Cale mumbles in response, heading right to his stall to get ready for practice. But he feels his cheeks heat up and knows it’s a dead giveaway.

“What took you so long? You’re usually here with this maniac way earlier than need be.” EJ pushes, gesturing to Nate for a moment before all his attention focuses on Cale. A beat of silence lasts too long and somehow EJ knows exactly what’s going on.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

“EJ,” Nate warns, ready to step in since he knows Cale has been talking to Eve again, but everyone knows EJ is mostly all talk. The chances of him overstepping is slim to none. It’s just fun and games. Except Cale’s lack of response and rosier than usual cheeks say everything he doesn’t put into words.

“I just got coffee and breakfast with a friend. We’ve been catching up lately after not seeing each other for a while.” Not a lie. That’s partially true and he hopes it’s enough to convince the team to lose interest.

“With a girl!” EJ says with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

And just like that, everyone moves on. Almost everyone. While the rest of the team filters out of the locker room to hit the ice, Nate gently taps Cale with his stick and gives him that same knowing look that he did a few weeks ago.

“How’s it going? With… ya know?”

Cale kind of wishes the floor will swallow him, but he knows Nate is being nice. He’s just not used to talking about his love life with any of the guys because there hasn’t been much of a love life to talk about.

“Really well actually. Nothing’s happened and neither of us are pushing, but it’s been great just spending time together again. I miss that, you know? It’s great to have her back.” Cale explains, cheeks becoming pink with blush as he talks. Nate offers a genuine smile in response and bumps his shoulder.

“That’s good. You deserve her. So I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks, Nate. Means a lot.” He shrugs softly, trying not to let his thoughts wander.

“Just an idea though, maybe see if she wants to come to a game. She might like seeing you play.” Nate says out of nowhere and Cale just nods, unable to think of a proper response. They walk out to the rink together and the moment Cale takes the ice, all his worries fall away.

But beneath it all, Cale can’t help but think about how Eve has just started asking about hockey again. And he’d be lying if the idea of her in his jersey, cheering him on in the stands and waiting to greet him afterwards didn’t make his heart race.

This is crazy and Evelyn knows it. She hasn’t seen Cale play since college when she would sit with her friends and the other girlfriends in a much smaller rink. He might not like her being at a game even if that sounds far fetched. Yet, here she is right against the glass on the Avs side of the ice at Ball Arena.

The sign she’s clutching in her hands is another reminder of how insane this whole idea is. Although it will help her blend in among the other fans who have brought their own homemade signs as well. But it’s too late to back out now, and if there’s one thing Eve is sure of, it’s how she feels about Cale.

So she waits at the glass in anticipation of seeing the team skate out for warmups. The same giddiness that used to run through her veins when she attended the games on campus returns and realizes she’s missed this feeling without even knowing it. Sure, she’s watched the Avs games at home from the comfort of her couch, but this is a whole different experience that she is happy to have back.

The only person that knows she’s here right now is Nate. He's the only one who knows more than he should about her and Cale, which she didn’t think was ideal until she came up with this bright idea. Nate only encouraged her and even helped organize all the details to ensure everything about the surprise goes according to plan.

That also means he’s the only one who won’t have an outrageous reaction to her sign.

Eve snaps out of her thoughts as the lights begin to come up, illuminating the ice in the usual brightness that she has grown accustomed to. Her eyes focus on the tunnel next to the bench while pressing the sign against the glass. She has no idea if Cale will even see it, but everything in her is hoping he does and if not, one of his teammates points it out to him. He’s followed in Nate’s footsteps of being zeroed in during warmups and the fan interaction falls to the wayside in terms of importance.

Tonight will be different.

The team skates out onto the ice and cheers erupt from the crowd. An instant smile spreads across Eve’s lips when the familiar number eight steps onto the rink, immediately skating around effortlessly. As the guys settle into their usual warm up routines, Eve keeps an eye on Cale as if she could look anywhere else. Nate skates by and taps his stick against the glass, a beaming grin of his on display.

“He’s going to flip out.” Nate says, shaking his head and tapping a fist bump against the glass. Eve does the same with a giggle before he skates off to continue with drills.

It’s then when she spots JT and Mikko whispering to each other opposite of where she’s standing. Mikko’s got that mischievous look in his gaze as the ginger next to him can’t stop smiling. They’ve noticed the sign and Eve feels her nerves spike. It’s only a matter of time before they bring it to Cale’s attention.

“Hey, Caler! Why didn’t you tell us you finally invited your girl to a game?” JT calls out, giving Cale a playful bump to the shoulder.

“What?” Cale responds, looking up from his stick handling in confusion. “I didn’t invite anyone.”

“Well, that sure looks like Evelyn to me.”

“JT, don’t be- ohmygod. It is Evelyn.”

As an unbelievable amount of shock rolls through him, Cale can’t help but beam in her direction. He would recognize her fiery hair color and beautiful smile anywhere. She’s here at one of his games. She’s really here. He’s been waiting to have this back for so long. His eyes never move away from her even if he can hear JT and Mikko chuckling nearby.

Despite the happiness coursing through his veins as he slowly skates over, he tries to take in every detail of this moment. Eve is wearing what she called her “lucky jersey” from Cale’s time at UMass. Seeing her in the familiar maroon and silver jersey with the number 16 on the sleeves and a simple A on the chest makes Cae’s heart soar. His last name is on the back of that jersey and even better, she’s kept it after all this time even if it’s been years since she saw him play in Massachusetts. Cale doesn’t even have enough time to process all this when he realizes what is written on the sign she’s pressing against the glass.

“Even in burgundy and blue, my heart still belongs to you #8!”

All the air in his lungs is stolen away and everything else seems to fall away except for Eve. Not only is she here at a game, but her sign holds the confession that Cale has been wondering about since they ran into each other again.

She still loves him. He doesn’t know if her feelings ever went away or she fell in love again, but Cale can’t believe this is happening. After all this time, her heart still belongs to him just like his belongs to her.

“Hi,” he murmurs, pressing his hand against the glass when he comes face to face with Eve. She waves in response and the smile he gets in return rivals the sun. He pulls a puck over and flips it up onto his stick before tossing it over the glass. The moment she catches it, looking up with the most hopeful expression on her face, Cale takes the leap of faith. “I love you so much.”

Evelyn doesn’t think she can smile any bigger and swears her heart might explode with pure joy. This beautiful, sweet, amazing boy just said the three words she’s been waiting to hear since the day things ended. Cale loves her. Nothing else in the world matters more than that.

“I love you too.”

Cale taps the glass a few more times before ever so slowly skating away. His cheeks are pink with blush and the smile on his lips won’t be going away anytime soon. Eve gives him a wave, holding the puck to her chest where her heart is racing. With his mind on his girl, Cale returns to the usual warmups and knows this game is a must win more than it was before.

Because of Eve.

The Avs win 4-1 and Eve doesn’t think she’s ever had this much fun before. All of Cale’s games at UMass were an experience, but that doesn’t even come close to how happy and excited she is when the buzzer sounds and the boys spill onto the ice for hugs and celebration.

Cale scored two goals and had a three point night which isn’t unusual for him, but he seemed to be playing on a whole other level. She is beyond proud of him for making it to the biggest stage in hockey and it’s no surprise that he’s thriving because he’s just that good.

“Evelyn, do you want to come with us to the tunnel? We wait for the guys down there after the game, if you want to see Cale.” Mel asks softly as the rest of the wives and girlfriends start filtering out of the suite.

“Oh, yeah, I’d love that. You’re sure it’s okay?” Eve responds, trying not to let any sign of nerves seep through her words.

“Of course it is. You’re part of the family now! We all see how that boy looks at you. It’s only a matter of time before he makes it official.” Mel chuckles sweetly, looping her arm through Eve’s to show her the way through the arena. Eve feels a tiny smile creep onto her lips after what her new friend just said, but the giddiness running through her about seeing Cale so soon takes precedence.

In no time, the small group is waiting outside the locker room and Eve can’t seem to stand still. Anxious thoughts run through her mind. How does she greet Cale after their mutual confessions during warmups? What if he didn’t mean it? Where do they go from here?

Before she can get lost in the whirlwind of anxiety and what if’s, the door to the locker room opens and the guys start to filter out. She says hi and congratulates each of them on the win, including Nate who tells her Cale will be out in a few before bumping her shoulder playfully and giving her a knowing look.

And just like Nate said, Cale is the next player to exit the locker room. His bright blue eyes are searching the area like he’s looking for someone specific. Then he sees her.

“Eve!” Cale calls out, hurrying over with open arms to scoop her up in the tightest embrace. She can’t help the giggles that escape when her feet leave the floor for a quick moment as Cale spins her around.

“Hey bubs, you played so well! I missed seeing you out there. And I already knew it, but you’re one hell of a player.” Eve says, cupping his rosy cheeks in her hands as they maintain eye contact. The close proximity is enough to make her dizzy, but the look on Cale’s face steals her breath away.

“Thank you. It was a big surprise seeing you out there, but I’m so happy you came.”

“Me too.”

Everyone is probably watching the moment as it’s happening, but Cale doesn’t care. His girl is in his arms and there’s a tension in the air that he needs to get rid of which means he has to ask the thing he’s been wondering since he saw her during warmups with the sign that changed everything.

“Also noticed your creative spark for making signs hasn’t disappeared either.” Cale hints, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“It wasn’t my best work, but I couldn’t wait to tell you something so important.” Eve giggles, hands sliding up to lock behind Cale’s neck. “And it’s still true.”

“I know,” Cale mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. “And I meant what I said. I love you more than anything, Evelyn. I never stopped. Not when I left for Colorado or when we decided to end things. Not even when I found out you had moved on. It’s always been you and I don’t plan on letting what we have slip away again.”

Tears begin to spring up as Eve listens to Cale speak and she can’t even begin to find words to properly express her emotions. Instead, she closes the space between them with a long awaited kiss that’s soft and gentle, but full of love. Cale pulls her impossibly closer and feels her smile against his lips. Time seems to stop and neither of them can believe how lucky they are.

“You’re it for me, Cale. I love you so much. Even if it’s a thousand miles away from where we started, I want this. I want you. There’s never been anything I’ve been more sure of in my life.” Eve says quietly, pressing her forehead against his for a brief moment before the team, who has been watching the whole moment, erupts in cheers. “Ohmygod.” She whispers, hiding her face in Cale’s chest.

“Finally!” EJ yells, shaking some of the guys in excitement.

“You might want to give Gabe a really big thank you for that stupid team bonding trip. None of this would’ve even happened if we weren’t dragged there.” Nate laughs, taking in both Cale and Eve who are glowing with nothing but pure happiness.

And years down the line, if Gabe gets the first invite to their wedding at that very same ski lodge, no one has to know.

tagging some friends/mutuals who might be interested!

@tonyspep @starshine-hockey-girl @kailyn-writes @happer08 @rosesvioletshardy @sorryjustafangirl @laurenairay @miracleonice87 @hockeyunits @stroopwaffle8 @musiclove-12 @eightmakar @ilyasorokinn @barzysreputation @breezymichelle99 @comphyjost @comphy-and-cozy @jostystyles @ya-pucking-nerd @fallen-froots @beauvibaby @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @boqvistsbabe @antoineroussel @tpwkstiles @hockeylvr59 @2manytabsopen @senditcolton @equallyshaw @lam-ila @nateslehky

#cale makar #cale makar fic #cale makar imagine #cale makar blurb #cale makar fics #cale makar imagines #cale makar fluff #winter fic exchange 2k23 #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #fluff #colorado avalanche #cale makar x oc

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