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artificialqueens · 2 years

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Potluck Challenge Entry (Raja/Willam) - Dartmouth420

summary: Willam only decided to host a potluck for everyone from the office because it’s the ideal situation in which to hit on her unprecedentedly attractive coworker, Raja. But the recipe for vegan canapés she found online is a dud, and no one’s being very helpful… Lesbian AU, Raja/Willam. Featuring: Alaska, Bianca, Adore, Courtney, Latrice, Jinkx and Dela. 2180 words.

A/n: V, this one is for you ;) cw: weed (weed is legal here in Canada but idk what's going on in America so take this with a grain of salt!)

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“A good idea? A potluck is a great idea!” argued Willam, looking frantically from the photo header of the online recipe on her phone to the misshapen and bizarre vegan canapés in front of her. They didn’t look like they were supposed to. “This recipe is obviously defective! They’re getting a one-star rating.”

Alaska, her roommate and official best friend, rolled her eyes, and replied dryly, “Well, I’m not gonna say I told you so… but inviting all your coworkers over for a potluck when you know for a fact you can’t cook is asking for trouble.”

Alaska, of course, had made a truly spectacular grilled vegetable bruschetta, and had somehow found the time to make fresh sourdough garlic bread, and marinara sauce on the side. God damn it.

Willam huffed, but she was completely and utterly out of time, so she just took the tray and put it on their shared kitchen table. Then she rushed to the bathroom mirror to check her reflection, because she knew where her priorities lay. She looked good, her lipstick and eyeshadow were impeccable, her cleavage was industrial-grade, and she fluffed her loose blonde hair.

There was only one reason Willam wanted to host a potluck anyway; as an excuse to get to know her hot new coworker, Raja. Raja was confident, smart, and moved with a subtle intentionality that made Willam really want to get bent over a desk and railed with a strap-on. She was tall, had beautiful high cheekbones, dark sensual eyes, elegant grey-streaked hair, and was incredibly hot. Raja made an office-appropriate blazer look like sex on wheels.

Oh, and she was really fucking funny, too.

Willam had barely been able to concentrate at the office for weeks, because Raja kept saying incredibly sexy and suggestive things to her like, do you have the wifi password? and oh yeah, I just moved here from L.A., and the coffee is pretty good with oat milk, and hey, can you pass me the stapler?

Clearly, the office element of the office romance was getting in the way. So, Willam’s plan to seduce her at the potluck held in her own home was genius, the only problem was that the canapés looked idiotic, probably tasted terrible, and she didn’t have time to fix them.

The doorbell rang. Alaska mildly walked over and reached for the door handle…

Willam whirled out of the bathroom, darted up to the door and reached around her, “Do not hog my light-!”

Alaska crossed her arms and pursed her lips, stepping back from the door. Willam laughed, leaned sexily in the doorway, and pulled the door open.

“A potluck? What kind of an idea is that, we all know you can’t cook, bitch,” said Bianca dryly, standing on the step, holding a glass casserole dish against her hip.

“Oh, it’s you,” said Willam, disappointed.

“You bet it’s me,” announced Bianca, pushing past her inside, and leaning in to kiss Alaska’s cheek, murmuring suggestively. “Hey darling, haven’t seen you in a while…”

“Stop hitting on my roommate.”

Alaska giggled and purred, “Oh hi Bianca, it has been a while hasn’t it? How’s Courtney?”

“Didn’t you hear? We broke up…”

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that, I had no idea..."

Willam made a retching sound.

Bianca came into their home and deposited her beautiful, decorated lasagna, thick with cheese and meat, next to Willam’s dubious canapés. It looked amazing, and smelled delicious.

“Wow, these are… something,” said Bianca, looking up from the canapés with a shark-like smile. “I’ll give you a gold star, honey, you did try.” She noticed the bruschetta, bread and sauce set out. "Alaska, this must be yours, looks fantastic! I can't wait to, ah, get a little taste of it on my tongue."

“And I can’t wait to taste your dish either, Bianca,” said Alaska, fluttering her eyelashes at Bianca and reaching for a plate.

“No, not yet!” insisted Willam, even as her stomach growled. Everything had to be perfect for Raja, who would probably bring something unbelievably impressive. On top of being incredibly hot, she was probably also a five-star chef.

Bianca rolled her eyes.

The doorbell rang again, and more people from the office arrived in rapid succession. They were a timely bunch, apparently. Latrice, Courtney, Adore, Dela and Jinkx, everyone was here! And all of the conniving assholes she had once considered friendly coworkers had shown Willam up, each bringing something creative and impressive and homemade. Courtney in particular seemed determined to compete with her ex, having brought a vegan cashew and mushroom pasta casserole in a nearly identical glass dish to Bianca's lasagna. Even Adore brought her home-brewed beer, for fuck’s sake. Between all of them there was enough food for the vegans and the non-vegans, and probably all of Willam’s other neighbours on the block too.

Luckily, people seemed fine to linger and talk and start the drinking early. Several more minutes passed, and Raja didn't appear.

“Who are we still waiting for?” asked Adore, looking around the room.

“Yeah, I’m getting hungry,” added Dela.

“Everything looks fantastic,” added Latrice.

“Except for the canapés,” snarked Bianca.

“We’re waiting for Willam’s crush…” teased Alaska, nudging Willam in the side.

Courtney rolled her eyes, “You’re starving us because Raja is late? As usual?”

“Hey!” snapped Willam, “She’s probably like, making an actual wedding cake or something. You know her. She’s talented!”

“Now a wedding cake is something I can get behind…” commented Jinkx, looking suggestively to Dela. Dela ignored her.

"Did they break up again?" whispered Latrice to Willam. Willam shrugged, she had no idea.

But Raja still wasn't here, and Willam was sweating through her deodorant with nerves! Ugh, at this rate she was never going to get laid.

“Let’s just go ahead and start,” said Willam, diplomatic, which she thought was extremely admirable of her given the high-stakes nature of this casual potluck. “If she’s late, then she’s late and she can’t complain if she doesn’t get first choice.”

“And if she’s lucky, the canapés will be long gone,” commented Bianca, nudging Latrice, who laughed along before glancing longingly at Dela, and they stepped up to fill their plates.

People filed around the table, chatting and giving one another compliments on what fantastic creations they’d brought, even Adore’s home brew. Though to Willam, the nine-percent-alcohol beer tasted like a yeasty grapefruit had been left out in the sun for too long.

Willam sighed, and leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms with disappointment. Maybe Raja wasn’t going to come to the potluck at all. Maybe she hadn’t picked up on Willam’s highly subtleindications that she wanted to get railed, or worse… wasn’t interested?!

But then the doorbell rang.

Willam leapt up from her slump against the counter, and sprinted to the door. She adjusted her skirt and pushed her tits up a little further in her bra, counted fifteen seconds down, and opened the door.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” said Raja, with a casual grin that could charm a rocket to Mars. Willam nearly fainted with the force of it.

“Oh, uh, welcome!” said Willam, stepping back and holding the door open, noting that Raja had a tote bag over her shoulder. Raja entered, looking around curiously. She wore a very normal outfit of a button-up and jeans, but it was somehow the sexiest thing Willam had ever seen, and she wanted to tear her clothes off with her teeth.

“Nice place.”

“Thank you, it’s cheap,” replied Willam, leading her into the kitchen, and hoping Raja was taking the opportunity to look at her ass.

“Look who’s here!” said Willam as they entered the room, and everyone turned to look. Willam hadn’t expected that. But maybe she shouldn’t have announced it.

“Hey guys,” said Raja, putting her tote bag down on the kitchen island, tucking her long, sensual, elegant hair over one shoulder. “So… an office potluck, that’s a fun idea.”

“It sure is,” replied Bianca, raising her eyebrows, “Why don’t you come over here and check out Willam’s canapés…”

“No!” said Willam, hurrying to change the subject. “Uh… Raja, what did you bring?”

“Let me see…” Raja dug around in her bag, and took out a package of the cheapest grocery store brand chips available.

Alaska blinked with surprise. Courtney scoffed. Bianca and Latrice looked at each other and winced.

“Nice, I love chips,” said Adore, nodding contentedly.

But Raja didn’t seem embarrassed at all, or even aware of the anyone else’s judgement. What a sexy quality. Plus, she was still digging around in her bag.

“Oh yeah, and this,” said Raja. Willam’s heart beat quickly with anticipation.

It was a bottle of cheap chardonnay. Only two-thirds full.

“She didn’t drive here, did she?” whispered Dela to Jinkx. Maybe they were back together?

“Hang on…” continued Raja, giving Willam a knowing wink.

Willam wasn’t sure she could handle the anticipation; her pits were damp, and so was her pussy. If Raja didn’t pull something truly impressive out of her bag, her standing in the office would be ruined forever! But the silver lining, considered Willam, was that her disastrous canapés wouldn’t be nearly as memorable compared to Raja’s chips and wine.

With a flourish, Raja pulled one final thing out her bag and slapped it on the table.

Everyone leaned in to see what it was.

It was a plastic ziplock bag, full of dense, deep green, rich buds of weed. It had to be at least an ounce. Willam nearly drooled, the weed looked so good; fresh and sparkling with crystal-like feathers on the dried, curled leaves, likely to produce a wonderful, mind-bending high.

“I didn’t have time to make it into brownies,” said Raja, shrugging, “I hope this is okay…?”

“Oh, this is more than okay!” said Alaska, clapping her hands together gleefully. “I’ll get my bong…”

“Wow,” said Courtney, coming over to look at the baggie. “Is that local…?”

“Like so local, I grew it on my balcony,” replied Raja proudly.

“And I thought growing tomatoes on my balcony was impressive,” commented Dela.

“No way, I grow balcony tomatoes too!” added Latrice, turning to Dela with a delighted smile. “But only the cherry vine variety, what about you?”

“Well, I just learned about this dwarf variety out of Florida called the ‘micro tom,’" replied Dela, glowing with Latrice’s attention. "And they’re specifically designed to thrive in pots…”

"I can't grow a vegetable to save my life," commented Raja.

“Don’t talk to me about gardening,” deadpanned Bianca. "I hate dirt."

“But then why do you love telling me I'm such a dirty girl…?” replied Courtney smugly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Bianca seemed lost for words, a rare occurrence.

“This is way better than chips,” sighed Adore, happily.

“Raja, you’re really taking the cake tonight,” declared Jinkx, before looking longingly at Dela again. "But apparently vegetables are the way to go…”

"Pretty sure tomatoes are fruits, Jinkx," said Adore, putting her arm around her. Jinkx raised her eyebrows, turning to Adore affectionately. Romance, or maybe it was just drama, was in the air tonight.

Alaska came back out with her bong, clean and polished and ready to rip.

Willam, personally, had been rendered speechless. Everyone went back into motion at once, the group splitting up to grind the buds and roll joints, and load up food on plates, and they all started talking at once. They complimented the dishes, sampled everything, and successfully kept track of what was vegan and what wasn’t, etc. It occurred to Willam, as she stood there with her mouth half-open and her friends milled around her, that this was actually a really successful potluck. Everyone was eating, drinking, smoking, (or choosing not to drink or not to smoke, whatever their preference) and having a great time. Wow.

“Here,” said Alaska, dryly, pushing a plate of food into Willam’s hands.

“Oh, right,” said Willam, and looked down, remembering she was hungry. She wolfed in what was on the plate. Everything was absolutely wonderful, except her canapés, which were dubious.

After talking to Bianca about an upcoming meeting, complimenting Adore’s strange homemade beer, sliding past Latrice and Dela as they bonded flirtatiously over the nuances of tomato husbandry, accepting a hug from Jinkx, and replying vaguely when Courtney asked in a hushed tone if Bianca 'had been flirting with' Alaska, Willam finally made her way over to the sink to deposit her empty plate. Someone, ideally Alaska, would do the dishes tomorrow.

“The canapés were pretty good,” said a low voice behind her, and Willam turned to see Raja with her own empty plate, and a coy little smile on her mouth. “And thank you for inviting me, by the way.”

“Oh, you liked the canapés? Really?”

“Of course I liked them, you made them, after all… and in case it isn't obvious, I can't cook either,” replied Raja, putting her plate in the sink, and leaning in close to Willam as she did so. "I spent like forty-five minutes panicking over what to bring."

Willam breathed in sharply, wildly aroused by Raja’s sheer proximity, and the sexy smell of weed and perfume that drifted from her. Multiple crevasses were getting damp again, and Willam might need to take a breather…

Raja plucked a joint from her chest pocket, and held it between her slim, tattooed fingers, and said, “So, do you want to go smoke this in the back yard and make out?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” replied Willam, unable to suppress her delight, and barely able to believe her luck. She took Raja’s hand and quickly led her out of the room, while everyone was occupied talking amongst themselves, enjoying the shared gifts of food and weed.

End

#rpdr fanfiction #willam belli #raja gemini #raja x willam #bianca del rio #alaska thunderfuck #rare pair #potluck #group fic #fluff #fic challenge #lesbian au #dartmouth420

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 years

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Eccentricity [Chapter 14: Love Keeps The Monsters From Our Door] [Series Finale]

A/N: Thank you for your encouragement, enthusiasm, laughter, rants, screeches of anguish, and unapologetic thirsting for “sexy undead Italian man” Joseph Francis Mazzello. I hope you love this conclusion more than Baby Swan loves pineapple pizza. 💜

Series Summary: Potentially a better love story than Twilight?

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. (The #1 song I associate with this fic!)

Chapter Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 7.7k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk @rhapsodyrecs

Mercy

We have to stay in the Vladivostok palace until her transformation is complete, and I hate it.

The floors are cold and sterile and every clang of noise ricochets off them like a bullet. The earth outside is stripped bare and hibernal. There is no green to interrupt the bleakness of the sky, the cruel absence of color: no spruces or hemlocks or bigleaf maples, no evergreen forests, no verdant fields, only a grey that bleeds from the sky in sheets of hail and driving rain. This land is a stranger. So many of the faces, too, are strangers, although they try. Honora sits with me—her large dark eyes, like mirrors of mine, polished and wet with aching pity—and braids my hair. Morana invites me to bake homemade bread with her. Austin tries to make me smile. Cato visits me as much as he can, because he feels responsible; or maybe he would do it anyway, maybe lessening suffering is as instinctual to him as bloodshed is to so many of our kind. And when Cato is with me, I do feel a little better, like my story might belong to somebody else, like it’s a name I can’t quite remember, like it’s a transitory moment of déjà vu I can catch glimpses of but never touch. And yet, still, I send him away.

I don’t want to be with Cato. It’s painful for him to be around me, I can see that. It’s painful for Rami, and for Ben, and for Joe, and for Lucy and Scarlett. It’s even painful for the Irish Wolfhounds that Cato found locked up for safekeeping in Larkin’s study; they skulk around the palace vigilantly but leave great swaths of uninterrupted space around me like open water. So I conjure up a mask of brave, hopeful acceptance and wear it everywhere I go.

Joe says very little, never leaves the girl he calls Baby Swan’s side, dabs her scorching skin with washcloths soaked in ice water and murmurs in sympathy when she screams through the unconsciousness, from beneath the ocean of fire we all know so well. He nods off sometimes, snatching minutes of sleep like fireflies in a jar, before jolting awake to make sure her heart is still beating. When Ben isn’t checking on them, he’s with Cato, helping to draw up plans for the future, reminiscing about the past with slick eyes and clinking midnight glasses of whiskey. Scarlett sprawls across the desk in what was once Larkin’s study and spends hours on the phone with Archer as she gazes up at the ceiling, telling him how to care for the farm animals and the garden, reassuring him that we’ll be home soon, whispering things to him that I try not to hear; and I know she wouldn’t want me to anyway. Lucy weeps delicate, ceaseless tears as she perches on the staircase landing and Rami entombs her in his arms, never having to ask what she needs from him. And I wander meaninglessly through the echoing, unfamiliar hallways like a moon without a planet.

I know what they all think about me, perhaps even Rami, for I keep it buried as deep as all skeletons should be: that I’m irrevocably kind, effortlessly forgiving. That I’m as incapable of bitterness as I am of aging. But they’re wrong. It’s a choice, and it always has been, ever since a late-November dusk in 1864 when madness eclipsed mercy. Every day I choose whether to surrender to the beckoning, malignant hatred that lurks in the back of my bedroom closet, in the dusty and ill-lit loft of the barn roped with cobwebs, in the twilight tree line of the western hemlocks crawling with shadows that whisper through fanged teeth. Every day I decide whether to become a monster. And it has never been harder to remember why I don’t.

My future is unimaginable. The nights are endless. I feel black, razored seeds of what I am horrified must be bitterness burrowing beneath my skin and taking root there. I am consumed by infected, fruitless questions that I can’t silence: Why Gwilym? Why Arthur? Why Eliza and Charlotte? Why is it always fire?

The first words that Gwilym ever spoke to me, as I unraveled from unconsciousness under a grove of sycamore trees with smoke still clinging to my unscarred skin, rattle around in my skull like windchimes beneath thunderous skies. His voice was colored with an accent I couldn’t place, and yet it sounded like home: You’re in a dark place right now. But you don’t have to stay there.

That might have been true once. That might have been true in the ruinous autumn of 1864. But now I can’t find my way out.

Seventy-three hours after our arrival in this barren corner of the world, Charlie Swan’s daughter wakes up as a vampire. Her heart is perfectly still, her skin faultless, her senses sharp, her mind as impenetrable as ever; at least, that’s what Lucy says when she finds me. And Lucy tugs at my hand, wearing her first smile in days, insisting that I have to come meet the newest member of our coven, to welcome her. I don’t know how to tell Lucy that I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to love this girl, that I don’t have it in me to love anyone but ghosts. And yet—compliantly, yieldingly, expecting nothing but disappointment in the monster I have become—I follow her.

The door is already open to the Swan girl’s room; chattering, beaming vampires flood in and out like the tides. I step inside. And I see the way that Joe looks at her, the way that Ben does; and all those seeds that I had feared might be bitterness blossom into nothing but open air.

It’s Not A Fucking Wedding (A.K.A. 13.5 Months Later)

The ocean is a universe. Its arms are not ever-expanding, spiraling galaxies of suns and planets and nebulae and black holes, this is true; its belly is not a vacuum of inhospitable oblivion, its bones are not invisible strings of gravity, its language is not a silence older than starlight, older than eternity. But the ocean is a universe nonetheless, its borders tucked neatly around the seven continents, slumbering there until the next hurricane or tsunami or ice age comes conquering; and inevitably equilibrium is restored—like defibrillator paddles to a heart, like naloxone to an addict’s blood—and our two worlds can coexist side by side once again.

The ocean’s arms are sighing waves, bubbling and brisk, grasping and retreating in the same breath. Its belly is swollen with life from immense blue whales down to swarming clouds of single-celled, sun-hungry phytoplankton. Its language is ancient whispers; not parched and blistering and brittle sounds like the desert’s but cool, serene, supple, engulfing. And I can hear them all, if I listen closely enough. I can hear the sentient whistling of orcas, the breaking of waves against rocks, the scrabbling of sand crabs beneath the earth, the gruff distant barks of sea lions, the rustling of evergreen pine needles in the breeze. And I understand now why it was always so easy for vampires to be introspective, to lapse into thoughtful, unhurried silences. I could imagine spending decades just sitting here with my knees tucked to my chest and my hair whipping in the brackish wind, watching the seasons roll by like a wheel.

Joe was coming back from the gravel parking lot. I turned to watch him: red U Chicago hoodie, messy dark auburn-ish hair, a pizza box clasped in his hands. The GrubHub delivery driver was returning to his car with the toothiest of grins.

“Buon appetito!” Joe announced, dramatically presenting me with the pizza box. It had become our post-finals tradition each semester: pizza at La Push beach, half-pepperoni, half-pineapple.

“Grazie, sexy undead Italian man. Your accent is getting so good!”

“I know, right?! I’m on a twelve-day Duolingo streak. I can’t let that little green owl dude down.”

“I’m impressed, I’ll admit it. I gotta brush up on my Welsh. Why’s the GrubHub driver so cheery?”

“I tipped him $500.”

I smiled, opening the box and lifting out a semi-warm slice of pineapple pizza. Elastic strands of mozzarella cheese stretched like rubber bands until they snapped. “Aww, really?”

Joe plopped down onto the cool, damp sand beside me. “No. I lied. We’re actually having a torrid love affair.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “How could you possibly have time for all that?” Between school, business ventures, family activities, and me, Joe was very rarely unoccupied. And he preferred it that way.

“I’m so glad you asked. I’m very speedy, if you recall. And that’s just one of the exclusive services I offer. I am a man of many talents. I make people’s wildest dreams come true. Who am I to deny the GrubHub delivery man the wonderland that is my spindly, annoying body?”

“You are the fastest,” I said, winking.

“Oh shut up! I mean, uh, uhhh, silenzio!” He pointed his slice of pepperoni pizza at me reproachfully. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not the fastest at everything.”

“Whatever you say, mob guy.”

He lunged for me, pinned me down in the crumbling sand, both of us laughing wildly as the crusts of our pizza slices bounded off and were snatched up by diving, screeching seagulls. He growled with mock savagery, braced his hips against mine, kissed his way from the corner of my jaw to my lips. That oh-so-familiar commanding, craving ache for him came roaring to the surface; and now there was no bittersweet edge to it, no inescapable backdrop of lambent numbers ticking down from five or ten or fifteen years to zero. Now there was only the calm, unurgent promise of forever.

“Joe—!”

“You have besmirched my honor, Baby Swan. I am left with no recourse but to refresh your clearly flawed memory and prove you wrong.”

“Public indecency? That’s illegal, sir.”

“Okay, you gotta stop stealing my catchphrases. It’s extremely difficult for me to come up with new ones. I’m almost a hundred years old, you know.”

“Alright, I guess you’re not bad in bed for a basically-centenarian.”

He smiled down at me, his dark eyes alight, the wind tearing through his hair, one palm resting on my forehead, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” I asked, worried.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just really glad we’re a thing.”

“You better be. You’re kind of stuck with me now. You’ve stolen my virtue, you’ve made me fall in love with your entire demented family, you’ve forced your torturous immortality upon me. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you ever stop funding my pineapple pizza addiction, of course.”

Joe chuckled as he climbed off me and took my hand in his, pulling me upright. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, by the way. Your insistence on being a sort-of vegetarian. It’s embarrassing. You’re the wimpiest vampire ever. You’re a disgrace to the coven.”

“I eat animals!” I objected.

“Yeah, when you have to.” And Joe was right: I steered clear of flesh outside of the two or three times a week when I hunted. For environmental sustainability reasons, I mostly consumed deer or rabbits; although the very occasional shark was my guilty pleasure. Joe gnawed on his second slice of pizza and peered out into the overcast, dusky horizon, wiping crumbs from his stubbled chin with the back of his hand. “We only have one more of these left,” he said at last, a little sadly. “One more finals season at Calawah University. One more celebratory dinner at La Push.”

“We’ll just have to get used to a new view. Pizza by the Chicago River, maybe.”

Joe looked over at me, thoughtful again, smiling. He had received his acceptance letter to the University of Chicago three weeks ago. I got mine eight days later. “It won’t be hard for you to leave Forks?”

“It will be. Once upon a time I didn’t think that was possible, but I will miss Forks. And not just because of Charlie and Archer and Jessica and Angela and all the Lees. But it was hard to leave Phoenix, and I’m sure one day it will be hard to leave Chicago. Just because change is hard doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

Joe nodded introspectively. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

“Don’t quote classic rock songs at me, mixtapes boy.”

“You love my mixtapes,” he teased, circling his left arm around my waist, pulling me in closer, touching his lips to my forehead. Mint and pine and starlight sank into my lungs like an anchor through the surf. “And that saying actually goes all the way back to Seneca, my dear.”

“Don’t tell me he’s still philosophizing in some cloudy corner of the world somewhere.”

“Not to my knowledge. Although that’s an intriguing thought. We need more famous vampires. Caligula would have made for very interesting conversation. Lincoln, Napoleon, Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Dante...I guess it’s possible that anyone is still around. Maybe we should turn Meat Loaf. You know, for the good of posterity.”

“Is it not enough that they’re already cursed with student debt and global warming?”

Joe cackled, took my face in his palms, kissed each of my cheeks one after the other, then nudged my nose with his. “You ready to go, Baby Swan? I suspect we’re expected to participate in some holiday festivities tonight.”

“I’m ready,” I agreed. We threw our leftover pizza to the seagulls, disposed of the grease-spotted cardboard box, and walked back to my 1999 Honda Accord with our pulseless hands intertwined.

The evergreen trees along Routh 110 fled by beneath a sky freckling with stars. Sharp winter air poured in through the open windows. And I could feel that it was cold, in the same way that I could feel the warmth on Forks’ rare sweltering days; but there was no discomfort that accompanied that knowledge. Pain only came when the sky was unincumbered by thick clouds churning in off the Pacific, and then it felt something like staring into the sun had as a human. Sunglasses helped, but the surest remedy was avoidance, was surrender. And what an inconsequential price to pay for forever.

“Wait,” I said, spying the mailbox that marked the start of the Lees’ driveway. “They still deliver mail on Christmas Eve, right?”

“Uh, I think so, why...?” And then he remembered. “Oh, yeah, let’s check!”

I pulled up beside the mailbox and Joe leaned out, returning to his seat with a mountain of Christmas cards and business correspondence and advertisements from Costco and Sephora. He sifted through them until he found a single white envelope from the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine. It was addressed to a Mr. Benjamin August Hardy. Joe held it up to show me as we drove down the driveway, the Lee house coming into view and ornamented with a frankly excessive amount of multicolored string lights and inflatable reindeer.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, drumming the steering wheel.

“You want to be the one to give it to him?”

“Are you serious?! Yeah, can I?”

Joe passed the envelope to me as I parked my geriatric Honda, which Archer had pledged to keep alive as long as physically possible. In return, Ben let him and Scarlett borrow the Aston Martin Vantage no less than once a week. I dashed out of the car, up the steps of the front porch, and into the house that bubbled over with the sounds of metallic kitchen clashes and frenetic voices and Wham!’s Last Christmas.

“Ben?!” I shouted.

“Hi, honey!” Mercy called from the living room, where she and Lucy were putting the final touches on Scarlett’s gown. Scarlett was playing the part of semi-willing victim, wearing gold heels and an impatient smirk and her hair out of the way in a milkmaid braid; her train of vivid red lace billowed across the hardwood floor. From the couch, Archer and Rami were playing Mario Kart on the big-screen tv and nibbling their way through a tray of homemade gingerbread cookies.

“Oh wow,” I said, clutching the envelope to my chest, mesmerized. I kept waiting for Scarlett to start looking like a normal person to me, and it never happened. Tonight, in the glow of the flameless candles and kaleidoscopic Christmas lights and draped in lace the color of pomegranate seeds, she was Persephone: a goddess of resurrection, a face that death himself could not pass by unscathed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lucy. Seriously.”

“One day I’m going to get you out of those thrift shop sweaters,” Lucy threatened me, placing a pin in the fabric at Scarlett’s waist.

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when that shows up in one of your visions.”

“Bitch,” Lucy flung back, snickering, knowing how improbable that was. I still appeared in her visions extremely infrequently, and then only when I happened to be standing next to whoever the premonition was actually about.

“Language, dear,” Mercy tutted, inspecting the hem of Scarlett’s gown.

Joe arrived beside me, his arms still full of mail. “ScarJo, I almost didn’t recognize you! Why do you have, like, no cleavage or fishnets or thigh slits?”

“Why do you have like no eyelashes?” Scarlett replied. “See, I can ask unnecessary and invasive questions too.”

Joe frowned, wounded. “What’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“Lucy, darling, I think it’s just a tad uneven on this side,” Mercy said, showing her. “Maybe by half an inch...?”

“No, seriously, what’s wrong with my eyelashes?!”

Mercy replied distractedly: “Nothing, honey, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Mom!” Joe groaned.

“It really is gorgeous,” Mercy marveled as Lucy flitted around her to investigate the hem situation. “And so Christmasy. So perfect for the season. Scarlett, dear, you were right after all, and I’m so sorry for doubting you. I’d just never heard of a red wedding dress before.”

“Mom, it’s not a fucking wedding!” Scarlett exclaimed, for probably the thirtieth time since Thanksgiving. “It’s a nonbinding, informal celebration of an egalitarian romantic partnership. Will somebody please inform this woman that it’s not a wedding?!”

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want, sweetheart,” Mercy conceded dreamily.

Joe pointed to Archer. “Isn’t he supposed to not see the dress until the day of or something?”

“What a great question!” Archer replied, still deeply invested in Mario Kart. “You see, that would be the case if this was a wedding. However, I’ve been informed in no uncertain terms that it is most definitely not.”

Scarlett grinned triumphantly at Joe. “There you have it.”

She might snap petulantly, and she might complain, but Scarlett wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t want to; we were all intimately familiar with the futility of trying to force Scarlett into anything. The not-wedding, as improbable as it seemed, had been her idea from the start. And she wasn’t doing it for herself. She wasn’t even doing it for Archer. Scarlett was doing it for her mother.

The first six months had been hell for Mercy. She didn’t resent me, as I had feared she might; Mercy made that clear, and Rami confirmed it. But she was gutted. She wouldn’t speak of Gwil, wouldn’t listen to us talk about him, locked every photograph of him away in dark drawers, wandered around with a remote, uncanny, unseeing smile until she walked straight into walls; and then she would blink inanely up at them, as if they had dropped out of the sky rather than been built by her own hands. She baked hundreds of cakes and almost never slept. She told us she was fine every time we asked, which was more or less constantly. But on the very rare occasions when she was left alone, Mercy would unfailingly end up in the field behind the Lee house, gazing out into the forest of western hemlock trees with tears snaking silently down her cheeks, the muted light of the cloud-covered setting sun flickering red and furious on her face like wildfire.

And then one afternoon, a package had arrived from Arviat, Canada, where Cato and the rest of the surviving Draghi had relocated shortly after the rebellion at Vladivostok. It was five feet tall and another three wide, and what we found after carefully peeling away all those layers of foam padding and packing tape was a portrait of Gwilym so skillfully painted that it could have been mistaken for a photograph. Mercy had stared at it for a long time—ignoring Lucy’s attempts to guide her away, deaf to any of our concerns—until she at last picked up the portrait herself and said, quite evenly: “I think we should hang it in the living room, don’t you?”

Things had been better since then—very, very gradually, and yet unmistakably—and Gwil’s portrait remained mounted above the living room couch like a watchman, his eyes sparkling and blue, his faint smile stoic and fond and omniscient. But even in the wake of Mercy’s continued improvement, none of us kids were about to risk another agonizingly despondent Christmas. So the solution was obvious. We would keep Mercy preoccupied with what thrilled her more than absolutely anything else: the pseudo-weddings of her children. Rami and Lucy had already secretly volunteered to go next year...and after that, who knew? And there was one other thing that was making Mercy’s burden a little lighter these days.

Charlie sauntered into the living room, wearing an apron covered in cartwheeling Santas and wiping white dust like snow—powdered sugar? flour? baking soda?—from his ungainly hands. He was palpably proud. “The sugar cookies are officially in the oven. And I managed to fit them all on one baking sheet, isn’t that great?! Cuts down on dishes!”

“Why, yes, I suppose it does!” Mercy said, alarm dawning in her eyes. Had my beloved father placed the globs of dough too close together? Would we end up with one hideous, giant monster-cookie? Only time would tell. Providentially, Archer and Joe could be counted on to eat just about anything.

Joe sniffed the air, his forehead crinkling. “What’s burning?”

“Nothing should be burning,” Mercy replied, almost defensive, forever protective of Charlie and all of his profound, incurably human imperfections. Sometimes I thought that she preferred him that way, that he was a link to a simpler world in the same way I had once been, that he was a puddle of memory she could drop into, that maybe he wasn’t so unlike her first husband Arthur. “Not yet, anyway. The cookies need at least ten to twelve minutes at 350.”

“Wait, 350?!” Charlie exclaimed, horrorstruck. “I thought you said 450!”

“Oh, this is tragic,” Scarlett said.

“I can fix it!” Mercy trilled buoyantly, breezing off to the kitchen as Charlie followed after her with a fountain of apologies. She shushed them away affectionately, patting his chest with her soft plump hands, chuckling about how luckily they had fire extinguishers stowed away in almost every closet just in case. And there were other reasons for that besides Charlie’s perilous baking attempts, but he didn’t know them. Now the record player was belting out Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas.

Archer lost another round in Mario Kart and exhaled a great, mournful sigh. “Hey, Baby Swanpire, can you do something about this guy?” He nodded to Rami. “This is criminal. It’s nowhere near a fair fight. He knows every freaking time I’m about to toss a banana peel.”

Rami smirked guiltily up at me from the couch, not bothering to deny it.

“Do you mind?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” Rami replied. “I want to show this loser I can beat him even without the benefit of mega-cool extrasensory superpowers.”

“Rude!” Archer cried.

“So rude,” Scarlett agreed, smiling.

“Okay, here we go.” I sat down beside Rami, still holding Ben’s envelope in my right hand, and laid my left against Rami’s cheek. And I felt a fistful of numbness—like instant peace, like milk-white Novocain—pass from my skin into his, rolling into his skull, deadening whatever telepathic livewires had been ignited there in the August of 1916. The effect would last anywhere from thirty minutes to a few hours; and it worked on every vampire I’d met so far.

“Whoa, trippy,” Rami murmured. “It’s still weird, every single time.” He peered drowsily around the room. “It’s...so...quiet?! You guys really live like this? No one is constantly bombarding you with sexual fantasies or romantic pining or depressive inner monologues? How do you function?! Now I’m alone with my own thoughts, that’s actually worse!”

“Hurry up and beat him while he’s all freaked out and vulnerable,” Scarlett told Archer.

Archer laughed, picking up his Nintendo 64 controller, radiant with the promise of vengeance. “Yes ma’am.”

“Any good mail?” Lucy asked Joe.

“Yeah. Coupons and a ton of Christmas cards from random people. The vet sent us one with alpacas on it, so that’s cute. Oh, and here’s one from our favorite Canadians.”

Joe held up the card so we could all see. The picture on the front showed Cato and Honora sitting on a large velvet, forest green couch with a hulking Christmas tree illuminated in the background. The others were arranged around them: Austin, Max, Ksenia, Charity, Araminta, Akari, Morana, Phelan, Aruna, Adair, Zora, Sahel, and a few new faces I couldn’t name yet. They were all wearing matching turtleneck sweaters. And every single one of them was smiling.

Joe cleared his throat theatrically and read the text on the inside of the card:

“Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

(Oh, and Scarlett, congratulations on your not-marriage.)

- Cato Douglass Freeman”

“That bastard,” Scarlett muttered.

Rami offered me his controller. He had just slipped on a banana peel and rocketed off a cliff. “You want a turn?”

“No, thanks though. I have to talk to Ben. Is he around?”

Rami shrugged ruefully. “I would help, but my brain is temporarily broken.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, taking a gingerbread cookie from the tray and biting into it as Lucy batted crumbs from the red lace dress, exasperated. “I think he’s out in the hot tub.”

“Cool. I shall return.”

Joe took my spot on the couch as I departed, shoveling cookies into his mouth, seizing Rami’s controller and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

I opened the door to the back porch, and frigid December air rushed in like an uninvited guest. The field was coated with a thin layer of snow, the animals safe and warm in the barn, the garden slumbering. And in the spring and summer, when blossoms of a dozen different varieties came open beneath the drizzling grey skies, Mercy’s calla lilies didn’t bother my allergies at all. Nothing did anymore. Ben was indeed in the hot tub, puffing on his vape pen, wearing only a beanie hat and swim trunks.

“What flavor is that cartridge?” I asked as I approached. “Gummy bear?”

“Close. Strawberry doughnut.”

“Ohhhh, yum!” Ben passed me the vape pen, and I took a drag as I kicked off my boots and sat near him on the rim of the hot tub, slipping my bare feet beneath the steaming, roiling water. Then I handed his vape pen back. “So. Guess what I have for you.”

“Uh.” He glanced at the envelope. “Jury duty.”

“Better.”

“Someone I hate has jury duty.”

I flipped the envelope around so he could see the University of Chicago logo on the front.

“Oh god,” Ben moaned.

“Don’t you want to see what it says?”

“Not really,” he admitted, grimacing.

“Come on, Ben. Open it.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?!”

Ben sighed. “Look, if I open it and it’s bad news, it’s gonna make Christmas weird. Rami will know. They’ll all know. They’ll all feel bad for me and it’ll be pathetic and depressing and awkward. You can look if you want to, just don’t tell anyone else yet.”

“It’s not going to be bad news,” I said, tugging at the floppy top of his beanie hat. He swatted my hand away, but he was smiling grudgingly.

“You have positively no way of knowing that. Unless Lucy’s had a vision I’m unaware of.”

“She hasn’t. You know she never sees anything important.”

“She saw you coming,” Ben countered.

“She saw human-me and Joe in love and gobbling down pretzels at a Cubs game. So I’d say there were at least a few minor details missing.”

“There’s no way I got in,” Ben said, his green eyes slick and fearful and now fixed on the envelope. “We can’t all be geniuses like you.”

“That’s an unfair accusation. I’m far from genius. I’m just obsessed with the ocean.” I’d written my senior thesis on the feeding habits of Pacific angelsharks, and my advisor was still trying to figure out how I, an amateur scuba diver at best, had managed to get so many quality photographs with my underwater camera. The secret, of course, was superhuman agility and not needing to breathe.

“I fucking hate calculus. The MCAT wrecked me. I got a 517.”

“And their median score is a 519, so I’d say you still have a fighting chance. Plus you have like eight million volunteer hours.” Ben had spent the vast majority of the past year either in class or at the hospital. The psychiatrist-in-chief, Dr. Siegel, had been more than happy to take one of Gwil’s foster children under her wing. Every human in Forks except Archer believed that Dr. Gwilym Lee had drowned in a tragic boating accident while he and Mercy were on vacation in Southern California, and that his body had never been recovered. The town had held a wonderful remembrance ceremony and dedicated a free clinic at the hospital in his honor. “Now open it.”

“You do it,” Ben relented finally. “My hands are wet. Go ahead, open it up and tell me what it says. And then kindly euthanize me to end my immortal shame.”

“That wouldn’t work,” I pointed out, tearing open the envelope. I pulled out the tri-folded piece of paper inside, flattened it against my thighs, and read the typed black text.

“...Well?” Ben pressed, vaping frantically.

I looked up and smiled at him.

“No way,” he whispered.

“I hope you like pretzels and bear-themed baseball teams, grandpa.”

And for a second, I thought he might bolt up out of the hot tub, hooting victoriously, splashing water all over the back porch as he danced around bellowing that he’d gotten into one of the best medical schools in the world, that he would be following me and Joe to Chicago. But that wasn’t Ben. Instead, a slow smile rippled across his face: it was small, but perfectly genuine. Pure, even.

“Goddamn,” he said, watching me. Venom doesn’t just resurrect or ruin; it forms a bond that is simultaneously intangible and yet immense. It’s an evolutionary adaptation, a way to facilitate stability and the building of covens in an often violent and ruleless world. And now that he had turned me, Ben had family here in Forks in more ways than one.

“Gwil would be so proud of you, Ben.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

The back door of the house opened, and Joe stepped outside. He studied Ben for a moment, and that was all it took for him to know. “Benny!” he shouted, elated.

“I know, I know. Fortunately, I look amazing in red. Thanks, supermodel genes.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Joe said, sprinting over to wrap Ben—who was characteristically lukewarm on this whole physical displays of affection business—in a hug from just outside the hot tub. “We’re going to go furniture shopping, and eat deep-dish pizza, and find apartments right next to each other, and mail home Chicago-themed care packages, and get you hooked up with some gorgeous Italian woman...or whatever you like, I guess I shouldn’t assume. Women. Men. Gang members. Marine mammals. Jessicas. Whatever. There are options.”

Ben laughed as he playfully shoved Joe away. “Sounds like a plan, pagliaccio.”

“Oh my god, stop learning Italian without me! You realize you have to tell Mom now.”

“I will,” Ben agreed, with some trepidation. “I’ll wait until after Christmas.”

“It’ll be hard for her,” I said. “But she knows it’s what you want. She knows it’s what’s best for you. So she’ll get through it. I think it would be worse for her if you didn’t get in, if she had to see you unhappy.”

Ben nodded, exhaling strawberry-doughnut-flavored vapor, gazing up at the stars, Orion and Auriga and Lynx and Perseus reflected in his thoughtful jade eyes. “She’ll still have Rami and Lucy and Scarlett here with her. And Archer. And Charlie.”

“Especially Charlie,” Joe said, grinning.

Mercy would have to leave Forks eventually, of course. The Lees had already been here for nearly four years; they could stay another ten, perhaps fifteen at the absolute maximum. And there had been a time when ten or fifteen years seemed like quite a while to me, but now it felt like I could doze off one afternoon and wake up on the other side of it, like swimming a lap in the sun-drenched public pool back in Phoenix. We would find a new home somewhere after Joe and I finished our PhDs, after Ben finished medical school, maybe Vancouver or Buffalo or Amsterdam or Edinburgh or Dublin or Reykjavik. Wherever we went, I hoped it wouldn’t be far from the sea. But Mercy couldn’t bear to leave Forks yet. It was the last home she had shared with Gwil, the last house they would ever build together, and leaving it would make his loss all the more irrevocable. She would be ready to leave someday, but not today.

In the meantime, there would still be visits for breaks and holidays. Scarlett and Archer had the shop to keep them busy, a brand new eight-car garage that held a virtual monopoly on both the Forks and Quileute communities. Lucy had opened a bohemian-style clothing boutique downtown, which confounded most of the locals but attracted more adventurous customers from as far away as Seattle. Rami was interning for a local immigration lawyer and entertaining the possibility of applying to U Chicago’s law school in another few years. And Mercy had the farm; and she had Charlie. He had asked her for cooking lessons to try to help rouse her a few months after Gwil’s death, and it had grown from there. If it wasn’t romantic just yet, I believed it would be soon. And there were moments when I thought my father might have figured something out, when his eyes narrowed and lingered on me just a little too long, when his brow knitted into suspicious, searching lines, when the hairs rose on the back of his neck and some innate insight whispered that we weren’t like him and never could be again. But then he would chuckle, shake his head, and say: “You’ve gotten weird, my gorgeous, brilliant progeny. But Forks looks pretty good on you.”

“Can I talk to you upstairs?” Joe asked me suddenly; and did I see restless nerves flicker in his dark eyes? I thought I did.

“Sure,” I replied, climbing down from the hot tub. “Ben, are you coming inside? My dad is trying to bake Christmas cookies and failing miserably. It’s pretty hilarious. Not that you should be the one to critique other people’s kitchen-related accidents.”

“I do enjoy your company a lot more now that I don’t want to murder you and slurp you down like a Chick-fil-A milkshake,” Ben said. “Yeah, give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” And as Joe and I headed into the house, I saw Ben pick up the acceptance letter that I’d left on the rim of the hot tub and read it for himself with incredulous eyes, grappling with the irrefutable fact that it was his name on the opening line, that he had somewhere along the way become the sort of man who dedicated his immortality to saving lives rather than ending them.

In the living room, Scarlett was back in her yoga pants and absolutely brutalizing Archer in Mario Kart. Rami and Lucy were entwined together on the loveseat, murmuring, giggling, feeding each other pieces of gingerbread cookies. In the kitchen, Charlie was leading Mercy in a clumsy waltz to Meat Loaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love, and each time he fumbled his steps or mortifyingly trod on her feet she would cry out in a peal of laughter brighter than the sun she had learned to live without. Joe spirited me up the staircase, into his bedroom—which, honestly, was more like our bedroom now, in the same way that my room in Charlie’s house had become Joe’s as well—and closed the door.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “Your dad totally ruined our song. Now I can’t hear it without thinking about some moustached guy in plaid trying to seduce my mom.”

“It’s the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. Meat Loaf is vanquished. Oh, just so you’re aware, Renee and Paul are getting an Airbnb and coming up for New Years.”

“Cool. Do they still think I have a super embarrassing sunlight allergy and will break into hives and asphyxiate and that’s why we can’t visit them in Florida?”

“Yup.”

“Spectacular. Also, can you please tell me what’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“They’re just a little sparse, amore. But I still like you.”

“Well, I am only moderately attractive, you know.” Then Joe steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Uh oh. He was definitely nervous. I still couldn’t believe I had the power to make him that way, but here we were. “So I get that we’re doing presents with the whole family tomorrow morning, and you do have some under the tree, so don’t worry about that. But there’s one I wanted to give to you alone. You know. With just us. Without an audience. Or whatever.”

“...Okay...?” A secret gift? A naughty gift? “I hope it’s a new vibrator.”

“Shut up,” Joe begged, laughing. “Here.” He reached into the drawer of his nightstand—our nightstand—and produced a small blue box topped with a turquoise bow. It wasn’t a ring, I was sure of that; I didn’t feel especially attached to the idea of marriage, and neither did Joe to my knowledge. How could rings or papers seal commitment when you already had eternity? I was right: the mysterious present was not a ring. When I removed the lid and emptied the box into my palm, what appeared there was a small plastic airplane.

“What is this?” I asked, amused but puzzled.

“Are you not college educated? It’s a plane.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that. But it’s also like two inches long.” I scrutinized the plane. “Are you magically transforming me into a tiny, tiny, little plastic person? Is that my gift? Because I actually got you something good.” And I really did: there was a collection of vintage Chicago Cubs photographs from the 1910s and 20s downstairs under the Christmas tree, packaged in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer wrapping paper.

“We’re going on a trip,” Joe said, grinning. “The day after Christmas. It’s just a short trip, nothing huge, don’t get too excited, we’re not going to Mt. Everest or Antarctica or anything. I think you’ll still like it. But I don’t want you to know where we’re going until we’re there.”

“How will that work? Considering the tickets and signage and pilot announcements and obnoxiously noisy other passengers and all.”

“ScarJo’s going to fly us.”

“Really?!” We were taking the jet. We almost never used the jet. “What’s in it for Scarlett?”

“She found out that Archer’s never had In-N-Out Burger before and is very much looking forward to initiating him into the cult of deliciousness.”

“Oh nice. I could go for a vanilla milkshake myself, now that Ben mentioned them.”

“Obviously I’m gonna buy you all the milkshakes and animal-style fries you want. Bankrupt me, bitch. But we have to get one other thing taken care of first.”

“So it’s somewhere they have In-N-Out Burger...” I pondered aloud. California? Texas? Las Vegas? I felt a brief but unambiguous pang of homesickness for Phoenix. But there was nothing there for me anymore.

“Stop,” Joe pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’ve already said too much. Please forget that. Get a traumatic brain injury or oxygen deprivation or something.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m rather indestructible at the moment.”

He smiled wistfully. “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

There was laughter downstairs in the living room. I could detect the aroma of a fresh batch of sugar cookies baking in the kitchen, mingling with the cold night air and pine trees and peppermint candy canes. I loved Christmas. The entire world smelled like Joe. The U Chicago décor, classic rock posters, and Italian flag were now interspersed with National Geographic pages and photos of the two of us together. The Official Whatever You Want Pass hung in a small, square picture frame on the wall above Joe’s bed. Our bed.

“How real is it, Joe?” I asked quietly. I climbed onto my tiptoes, linking my hands around the back of his neck with the tiny plane still tucked between my fingers. “Seriously. The wishes thing.”

“The world may never know. Akari never met me as a human, so she wouldn’t be able to say. But if I had to place a bet...” He shrugged, grinning craftily. “Kinda real. Kinda not real. Just like vampires, I guess.”

“I am alarmingly glad that you’re real, mob guy,” I said, abruptly somber. “I never thought I’d meet someone who saw me as remarkable, who could make me see myself that way. And it’s miraculous. And it’s terrifying too, honestly. Being a thing with you. Falling for someone you could have for centuries and lose in a second.”

“It’s the scariest thing there is,” Joe concurred, taking my hand to lead me back downstairs.

Joseph

Scarlett looks like a goddess, and she knows it. But she’s not one of those magnanimous, fragile, harp-plucking, pastel-colored goddesses. She’s ferocity and wildness and crimson like blood, and that’s exactly why Archer loves her. And as they stand in front of the Christmas tree with their hands clasped together—ivory on bronze, snow on sun—with matching sprigs of holly in Scarlett’s hair and pinned to the jacket of Archer’s suit, reciting truths but no promises, I can’t help but watch the other faces in the room: Rami, Lucy, Ben, Charlie, Mom with her beaming smile and shining eyes, the woman I met sixteen months ago and now can’t fathom life without. And it occurs to me for the first time that love, in its cleanest form, isn’t something that changes people as much as it allows them to become who they truly are.

On the evening of December 26th, as soon as the sun dips beneath the western horizon, we board the jet in the Forks Airport hangar. It’s much easier for Scarlett to fly at night; otherwise she has to wear two or three pairs of sunglasses on top of each other, and even then it’s still painful, it still feels like blinding needles burrowing into the jelly of her retinas. That’s not a wrench in my plans or anything. It needs to be night where we’re going, too.

Vampire hyper-acuity notwithstanding, FAA regulations require Scarlett to have a copilot, so Archer joins her in the flight deck with his newly-minted license and spends most of the journey flipping through the latest issue of Motor Trend. As we begin our descent, he peeks back at us and teases: “It’ll be your turn eventually, guys. Scarlett and I did our time. Rami and Lucy can go next year. And after that...unless Ben happens to find someone worthy of a not-wedding...” He wiggles his black eyebrows.

“Bring it on,” I reply casually. “Fake wedding are my jam. It’ll be ocean themed. Or Roaring ‘20s themed. And we’ll all do the Cha-Cha Slide in the living room and shame Ben as a bonding activity.”

“Mercy can set up a mashed potatoes bar,” Baby Swan adds.

“Yeah. With pineapple.”

“No. Not on potatoes.”

“Yes on potatoes.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Too late,” I tell her, touching my lips to the knuckles of her cool, steady hand.

We touch down at a small noncommercial airport just outside the city, and Scarlett and Archer stay back to secure the plane as Baby Swan follows me outside. And she realizes where we are as soon as the wind hits her, as soon as her eyes soak up the sand and cacti and cloudless night sky like rain swallowed up by parched earth.

“Phoenix,” she whispers, smiling like a child.

“But wait, there’s more!” I announce in my best Billy Mays voice. I take the little glass bottle from my pocket, walk across the runway to the naked desert, crouch down when I find a suitable spot, and fill the bottle with dry, sandy earth that crumbles in my palms. Then I seal the bottle with a tiny cork and bring it back to give it to her.

“I know what it’s like to have to leave home,” I say. “You’ve had to say goodbye to Phoenix, and soon you’ll have to say goodbye to Forks, and next will be Chicago, on and on forever. You’ll always be leaving the places you learn to call home. Every five or ten or fifteen years, we start over again. Like a snake shedding its skin, like a hermit crab swapping shells. Like the water that travels from rain to seawater to mist and then back again. But now you can always have a little piece of home with you, and maybe that will make it easier.”

She takes the glass bottle and shakes her head in disbelief, in wonder. Because this is exactly what she wanted, what she needed, even if she didn’t know it yet. “Joe...how did you...?”

“What’d I tell ya? I’m a talented guy. Now you have to dance with me.”

She laughs. “Oh no. Hard pass. I don’t dance.”

“When we’re alone in my bedroom you do. So just pretend we’re alone now. In, like, a really really spacious, sandy bedroom. With probably some lizards.”

“Fine. But only because I’m willing to degrade myself for milkshakes.”

She slides the glass bottle of Arizona earth into her pocket and takes my hands. She’s still a pretty terrible dancer, honestly. She hasn’t lost that. And I love that about her. I love damn near everything about her. And it took me a long time to figure out what exactly her subtle yet peerless cocktail of fragrance is, because it wasn’t somewhere I’d ever been. The scent that drifts from her pores—the scent that now lives in my bedsheets like a shadow or a ghost—is sunlight and heat and clarity and resilience and wisdom older than the pyramids. Her scent is the desert.

Now she’s mischievous, her eyes gleaming with the reflections of the Milky Way and the full moon and the stars that are dead and yet eternal, just like us. “So what, you think you’re Vampire Boyfriend Of The Year material now or what? Some dirt and In-N-Out Burger? That’s the height of your game? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my perpetual existence? I totally should have pursued that polyamorous triad with Scarlett and Archer when I had the chance—”

“Yeah,” I say, very softly, smiling, tilting up her chin to kiss her beneath the universe and all its eccentricities. “I love you too.”

59 notes · View notes

kweebtrash · 4 years

Text

Pay Attention, Dumbass

Pairing: Demon!Jaehyun x OC

Genre: Smut/ Comedy?? Maybe?

Features: demonic fingering

Summary: two idiot roommates accidentally summon two ancient demons. Forced into a contract, they only had two choices; die or make a deal with the devil. The most logical answer was to make them their boyfriends of course (this is lowkey a bad slice of life hentai, i swear). The demons know nothing about the human world and have to deal with “lessons” from their human girlfriends.

A/N: This used to be on my Kofi which im closing down and just putting everything up on here. This isnt continuing.

Masterlist Johnny Version Here

-----

"You haven't moved in hours. Don't you do anything else?"

I dug into the chip bag that laid on my desk and grabbed a handful to shove into my mouth. "Of course i do," I said through the mush of chips. "I went to the bathroom."

Jae sighed. "Not what i meant. Do you ever leave your room?"

I shrugged and downed some of my soda. "Yeah. I go to work sometimes."

"Where do you even work at?"

"A bar." I went back to clicking through attacks and swerving around opponents. "Guys, come on, come on, come on!" I said into the headphone and mic set i had on. "Someone head towards the point! At least start trying to take it over!"

"A bar?" He asked, confused. "What is that?"

"Its uh..." I drifted off as i propelled myself forward and released my ultimate attack, sending my mecha exploding in different directions. I quickly reloaded myself into the machine and continued my rampage of gunshots. "Like uh... drinks. Liquor."

"Libations?"

I snorted at the stupid word. "Yeah, whatever. That."

"And that's the only time you leave?" He continued asking.

"What the fuck is this? Twenty questions?" I grabbed another handful of chips. "On the left! Move out the way!" I grumbled at my friends who were playing online with me.

"I'm just curious since you don't have the capability to rid yourself of the sin of sloth."

I glared over at him as he was reclined back on my bed, arms behind his head, and torso on full display as he refused to wear a shirt (not that i was complaining). "I do things! I just like playing video games more! Sometimes i go to school too!"

"And what proof do you have of this because i never see it."

"My never ending debt and crippling anxiety." One of my online friends asked who i was talking too and i sucked my teeth. "My boyfriend is being annoying." Queue the kissy noises and jokes of the very mature men i gamed with.

"Oh? Im annoying?" Jae grumbled. "Whats really annoying is seeing you rot away while im forced to stay by your side. Hours and hours of boredom and still im trapped in the confines of this ridiculous home with nothing to do."

I set my headset down as the round finished and turned my desk chair towards him. "Are you upset that im not paying attention to you?"

He sat up quickly and scoffed. "Please. What do i need the attention of a human for?"

"You certainly want it when you're horny." I giggled. "Heh...horny...you have horns also so it's...anyway. Are you being a baby because you want attention?"

"I am not an infant. You are infuriating. Of course i had to get stuck with you."

"Oohhh, thats how it is. Yep, definitely being a baby, now with a temper tantrum."

Jae's eyes glowered and his claws dug into my mattress. "There are so many things i want to do to you right now."

"Ooh daddy." I snorted and put my headset back on. "Sounds kinky."

"Which is it? Am i an infant or a father?! I dont understand!"

I sighed and stood up. "Do you want to try playing with me?" I gestured at the now vacant spot of my gaming chair.

Jae stared at me then the seat. "Play that ridiculous thing?"

"Yeah," i shrugged and looked down at my feet. "It's something i like to do and you're my boyfriend sooo...i guess...i mean..." I twiddled with my thumbs as my cheeks began to warm up. "It'd be cool if you tried to like some of the stuff i do."

"Is that what boyfriends do?"

"Y-yeah...sorta. Look do you want to or not?" I huffed in frustration.

He stood up and made his way over, glaring down at me with his humanized yet still terrifying eyes. "Fine. I will try it."

I couldn't help the dorky smile that beamed across my face. "Ok, cool. Sit down."

He placed himself in the seat and i sat on his lap then scooted the chair closer to the desk. I positioned his fingers on the designated keys for offense and defense as well as the computer mouse. "Here, why don't i just guide your fingers the first few rounds so you get the hang of it?"

"Whatever."

The smile started to fade as i covered his hands with mine that seemed to dwarf in comparison. "Put your stupid claws away. You cant game right with your pretty manicure."

He growled like an irritated dog and slid the claws back into his skin. With his back pressed to mine, he ended up resting his chin on my shoulder, watching as i joined a new round. His somewhat chubby cheek felt warm against mine and i willed myself not to kiss it. It wasn't like he was going to respond anyway. He was cold hearted in every sense of the word, even when he fucked it almost seemed like a chore. It still was amazing and i loved every second of it but the distant feelings was strong. Of course it wasn't a great idea to make a demon your damn boyfriend but there was rarely a time where i made a smart decision.

Deciding to suck it up and just concentrate i pressed Jae's fingers down as i helped launch attacks and maneuver us around the screen. "This is nothing but hectic destruction " he commented.

"Yep, pretty much."

"And you enjoy this?"

"Absolutely."

"I am pleased by this." I felt a slight nip at my neck as he purred into my ear. "Very pleased."

"Pleased that i like shooting people and destroying things?"

"Exactly. Its quite...sexy."

"Oh my god. You're a dork!" I snorted. "Its just a damn game, weirdo." I pressed his fingers down harder, not wanting to slow down and ruin my winning streak. "Keep up."

"Well when you're crushing my fingers its hard to do so."

"Just follow me. You dont even have to move them."

"I would like to move them but-"

"Shh, give me a sec. Bastards are on my fucking ass! God i hate when they just gang up on you for no FUCKING REASON!" I screamed at the monitor. "Such dicks. Fuckin' dicks."

"Your mouth is filthy."

"Yeah you said that when it was full of cum too."

"Hm...that was also enjoyable." Another nip to my neck, this time followed by small sucks and kisses. "Continue using your filthy mouth and destroying things. This at least is semi entertaining now."

"Glad you think so. Quit kissing my neck, its distracting."

"Distracting?! You enjoy that! You said it this morning. Specifically 'Jae'," He faked a slightly high pitched moan. "'Keep kissing my neck, oh god'."

I flushed with embarrassment and rammed my elbow into his chest. "I already have to deal with dicks online i dont need go deal with you too."

"I suppose you wouldn't want to deal with this then?"

I felt him press his hips against my ass. The grey sweatpants he had on left nothing to the imagination and i swallowed hard as my concentration wavered. "S-stop." I whimpered.

"I dont think i will." One hand left the mouse and pressed against my stomach to keep me in place. "Support that. I will control these buttons."

I pressed my lips together and simply nodded. How he had the grace to continue slight grinds against me i didn't know but i was responding to them eagerly. I arched my back and wiggled my ass every time he rolled forward, creating a sinful friction between us. My eyes drifted from the screen momentarily to see that his fingers were working perfectly over the keys as if he had played for years. "You're...actually winning."

"What? As if its hard?" He tsked. "Humans have simple minds and-WHY IS THIS MAN PUNCHING ME FROM THE SKY?"

I froze our sensual movements to cackle loudly. "That's just Doomfist. He's so OP and stupid."

"OP?"

"Overpowered, meaning there's no reason for him to even be here."

"Im going to destroy him completely until he can never return."

"They all respawn, Jae. That's how the game continues."

"Not if I can help it. I want that mongrel dead. Get that clicky thing ready. I'm aiming to destroy."

"You think I'm sexy when I want to kill things but I think you're cute, you know that?" I turned towards him to press a kiss to his cheek yet my lips connected with his when he moved.

"I am not cute....but you are...or whatever." I wondered if that tint on his cheeks was real or just my imagination.

I smiled to myself anyway, pleased with his compliment and his valiant effort to enjoy the same things I did. He was truly acting like a boyfriend-one that felt genuine even if he crawled up from hell. Just before, he was complaining about how never moved but we stayed like this for a couple more hours, even sharing snacks and competing with my online friends. There came a point in the night, though, when searching for a server with an open game slowed tremendously. Minutes ticked by and still nothing. Jae's drumming of his fingers against the wooden desk in impatience was starting to drive me crazy. "Doing that isn't going to make it go faster, you know."

"This is about as interesting as watching you play on that small screen."

"We've gone over this. Its a phone, a cell phone, a portable phone."

"Yes, yes. That stupid thing with all the colors. Its like this stupid thing." He pointed at the computer screen. "Only smaller."

"You seem to enjoy the big stupid thing judging by how many kill streaks you got."

His lips tweaked into a smirk. "That's because im an expert killer. None of them deserved to live."

"You did get my rank up and some loot boxes so i guess i should thank you."

"Yes, bask in my glory and show me how grateful you are." His hand that had remained around my waist for most of our play time started creeping its way to my thighs.

"Are you wanting me to show you how grateful i am or are you trying to show me how desperate you are?" I snickered.

"I am not desperate. Since the stupid game is not cooperating im just trying to inject some extra curricular activities."

"Such as?"

He set his head on my shoulder again and i felt his fangs dig in deeper into my neck, making me let out a drawn out whine. "J-jae!"

He chuckled from deep within his throat as i felt his tongue trail from the column of my neck up to my earlobe. "Such as...watching you squirm when i add the slightest of pressure," Two of his fingers slid between the junction of my thighs and pressed firmly against the center of my shorts. "Here."

The tips of his fingers began gliding against the fabric, the soft cotton adding the smallest amount of friction against my clit. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as my leg began to bounce. I wanted to wait for a new game, my win streak was too precious to me but Jae was something else. Trying not to make it too obvious i adjusted myself on his lap, spreading my legs a little wider. His fingers garnered more room but he didnt move them under the fabric. Instead he kept torturing me with slow movements, occasionally pushing into the most sensitive areas. "Who's enjoying the attention now?" He teased.

Suddenly a little ping from my computer signaled that a game had finally been found. My attention quickly shifted and i put my headset back on and got into position. Jae reeled back in confusion. "Are you really going to continue to play?"

"Well...yeah. I mean it took forever to get into this game. I dont wanna lose it."

"Hey, can you be healer?" I heard my friend say into my ear piece.

"Fuck you! Im not going to be healer! You be healer, you twat waffle!"

Jae let out a heavy and annoyed sigh. I almost felt bad until i was lagging behind everyone else. I had to-

I felt his finger finally move beneath my shorts and press into my hole gently. I had to admit that he had already gotten me worked up enough to provide him with some lubrication and he slid in easily. "C-cut it out." I stammered.

"Oh no, dont mind me. Your game is more important. Keep going."

"I just mean-ah-ahh!" I tried to snap my mouth shut before my moan slipped out for fear of my friends hearing but it was too late. Jae had moved the seat of my shorts aside and pumped his finger faster, occasionally curling it an inch or two from my entrance. I covered the mic part of the headset and glared back at him. "If you dont s-stop-"

I snapped my thighs shut as he added another finger, the 'come here' motions growing stronger. Immediately, he landed a harsh tap to my outer thigh, a small growl floating in the tense air around us. "I said keep going."

"Well i would if you just-HEY! MOTHERFUCKER! I LIKED THESE SHORTS!" I looked down at the center of my shorts that had now been torn open because of his reappearing claws. "What's wrong with you?!"

Without a word he grabbed onto my ankles and set my legs up on the desk, keeping them spread. The clawed hand snaked its way to my throat and with the slightest pressure i could feel them digging in. It wasn't enough to hurt but certainly enough to make my entire body shudder with electricity. "I-i cant reach the keyboard." I whispered.

He scooted the chair closer to the desk, making my legs almost rest on it fully. "Wheres that tappy thing you have?"

"Tappy thing?"

"Where you move the sticks."

"You mean a controller?"

"You can plug it in right?" He questioned as his thrusting resumed which made my mind mush in a second.

"U-uh yeah-um its uh...d-draw-drawer!"

He let my throat go and allowed me to reach into my desk drawer and grab my gaming controller. I plugged it into my computer's usb port as my friends argued about me not pulling my weight and being static. I lied about my game lagging and shifted the mic up so i sounded muffled and they wouldn't be able to hear how much if a slut Jae made me. "There. Now you can play. Keep up that win streak. Have to get the gold and boxes, right? Have to play with your friends and ignore me, right?" He nipped at my ear as his fingers slipped out of me to rub circles against my clit. "Have to beg me to let you cum, right?

"P-please dont make me do that!"

"See? You're begging already. What a good girl you are."

My entire body tensed at those two words and i let my controller go for a moment to grab his hand and press his fingers back into me. "Keep going. I want you to keep going."

"I could but i dont have to. Maybe i can use the tappy thingy instead. More people I can kill." He jerked his fingers away and pushed them against my lips. "Clean these off for me. Dont want to get it dirty, do i?"

"Jaaaeeeee," i whined and leaned in for a kiss but he turned his head away.

"Clean. Them."

Reluctantly, i swallowed his fingers down, lapping between and tasting myself. He tested my gag reflex by moving them to the back of my throat but pulling away when it became to much. It was nothing but entertainment for him, a game of cat and mouse that made me feel doomed. "You know you love being inside me." I panted as my mouth was now freed. "I can ride-"

"Oh, how unfortunate. You died. Now we have to wait to return. You're too distracted, Ivy. A shame, truly."

I didn't care anymore. In the few seconds i had between my respawning i stood up and turned towards him, pulling his sweatpants down to stay around his knees. He had no qualms about his erection. I had felt it, of course, but it was like he paid it no mind, like it wasn't an inconvenience and he enjoyed teasing me instead. Was it another way to give me a taste of my own medicine? What a bastard! "Come here." I tried to sound as sultry as possible but he just laughed and took the controller from me.

"Lets see if i can figure this out now." Jae looked at the buttons and pressed at a few before moving the joy sticks to test them out. "Strange but i believe I can-"

It was my turn to cut him off. I lifted his head and focused on his eyes, angered by the smirk still on his lips. "Fuck me."

"Nope."

That wasn't the answer i wanted.

He craned his head to the side to look at the monitor. "Can you move? Im trying to play here."

"Shut up! You didn't even care about playing before!" I pouted as my cheeks flushed both in annoyance and embarrassment. I sat back on his lap anyway, chest to chest, and guided him inside me. Not a sound from him or even a look. He was focused on fighting now which made me want to punch him but i figured if i fucked myself on him long enough i could break his resolve. I gripped onto the back of the chair and started working up and down his length, adding kisses to his neck in between whimpers. "Jae...come on..."

"Ooh, double kill."

"I swear to god! If you dont-"

"No god, just demons."

"Yeah, you're acting like a demon. A demon asshole who wont even pay attention to his girlfriend! I cant believe you're doing this!"

He finally looked at me, dead in the eyes and it made me nervous. "It doesn't feel good, does it?"

Ok, ok. So i had learned my lesson. It was a two way street and maayybeee i wasn't being the best partner but i never figured he wanted anything from me. He never expressed a lot if affection or wonderment at what i did throughout my day. How was i supposed to know? I guess with his lack of knowledge about human things he truly had nothing to do unless i was guiding him. Fuck, now i really felt bad. What a buzzkill. "Im sorry...i understand how you feel now. I didn't think you cared. I know were just together because of the contract. I thought you still hated humans and didn't want to exist beside them."

"I do hate humans but you're my human now. Unfortunately, i have to rely on you and its maddening to be stuck here. In hell i did hundreds of things. I had a job. I had meetings with other demons. I planned wars, participated in real battles, created weapons. I was someone. Here, im nothing but a prisoner."

"Nonono! Please dont feel like that...i dont want to make you feel like that. Please..." I felt my eyes watering and i quickly buried my face in the crook of his neck. He sighed and tossed the controller on the table and shut my laptop. He kicked off the rest of his pants and with ease picked me up and led me to the bed.

"Dont ever speak of this. Not to Johnny, not to Xan. No one, understand?"

I nodded quickly as my back hit the mattress and he stayed above me. "You will do what i say just as much as im forced to do as you say. Love me unconditionally. Break me free from this world and show me why i shouldn't kill everyone in it."

I swallowed hard and nodded again. "I promise. I promise you everything."

"Good. Secondly...i would like to do battle against you in those games."

I couldn't help the giggle i let out. I didn't expect him to say something like that after being so serious. "Oh? You think you can beat me?"

"Im a strategist and a warrior. Of course i can."

"Oh, ok. You play a few rounds of Overwatch and suddenly you're the master. Just dont say anything when i kick your ass, bitch."

He chuckled deeply and snapped his hips without warning. He had still remained inside me and the sudden movement made me cry out loud. "Bring it on then. We'll see who's the better warrior here. Now," his eyes shifted into pure darkness and his fangs glistened with temptation. "Lets see how fast you can give in."

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dweetwise · 4 years

Text

yes hello i am back on my bullshit again, presenting you yet another felix x ace! (also i’m taking the creative liberty to call the ship riconti because it sounds like a cheese or something and i found it funny) anyways, this one is just me thirsting over the oktoberfest skin through ace, ft. some suggestive language but no nsfw!

word count: 2781

Felix X Ace: Clothes make the man

The whole thing starts as an offhand comment.

"—I mean, it's clearly tailored. He pulls it off,” Ace is telling Meg, who has been complaining about Felix's stuffy suit and even stuffier attitude for five minutes straight. “But it's so impractical!” the girl argues. “Wasn't he on some kind of field trip when he was taken? What kind of guy wears a suit to that?” “I don't know, but I'm not going to complain about free eye candy,” Ace smirks, and Meg rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot rich snobs are your thing. Sucks you can't scam him for his money in here,” Meg snarks. “Excuse me for having taste,” Ace shoots back. “I wish I had a suit like that. Do you think it's Gucci?” “Burberry,” an increasingly familiar voice answers from behind him and Meg whips her head around to look at its owner, eyes wide in shock at having been caught gossiping. Meanwhile Ace, liking to think he has more self-control, schools his face into a pleasant smile and slowly turns around to face Felix. “Would have been my next guess,” Ace says, trying not to let it show that he's mentally slapping himself for essentially thirsting over Felix when the other was within earshot. “I like the cut. You've got good taste.”

He’s feebly trying to save some of his wounded ego, but probably ends up laying it on too thick. Felix fidgets a little, maybe not used to getting compliments, before he seems to catch himself. He meets Ace's eyes and the hint of a smirk tugs on his lip.

“Wish I could say the same,” Felix says, pointedly looking at Ace's flamingo sweater, before turning around and walking away and leaving Ace to gape at the unexpected sass from the normally serious man. “I take it back, I like him!” Meg snickers beside him.

The Entity seems to share Ace's enthusiasm for Felix's fashion sense, and only a few trials in Felix is already in a different suit, this one a grey plaid.

“Hmm…” Ace pretends to mull over when they're working on a generator together. “Did you see something?” Felix asks, hurriedly glancing over the top of the machine to try, in vain, to spot the killer. “I think the navy blue suits you better,” Ace smirks at his own pun. “Though the plaid certainly makes a statement. Shame that statement is ‘I'm a grandpa at thirty years old’.” “You know, in my job, gold is really only used for trims. Any more than that is just tacky," Felix deadpans, not even sparing a glance at Ace's obnoxiously golden silk outfit. “And it's thirty-eight.”

Ace doesn't bother suppressing his grin over the fact that Felix seems happy to go along with his silly banter.

It becomes sort of an inside joke between them, and when Felix shows up to the campfire in a porn stache and driving gloves, Ace chokes on a laugh.

“I’m sorry, is this an 80's theme party?” Ace jokes. “Careful you don't end up on a propaganda poster with a stache like that.” “Why are you wearing an eye patch?” Felix immediately shoots back. “Is this the 16th century? Should we break out the rum and set sail?”

Ace hears Quentin snort beside him.

“It's a pilot outfit,” Ace argues, pulling his jacket with the pin-up print tighter against himself defensively. “No, mine is a pilot outfit,” Felix deadpans, and Ace can't really argue, not when the other is wearing a bomber jacket and pilot glasses and leather gloves. “Yours is a blind truck driver.”

Bill coughs out something akin to a laugh on the other side of camp and Ace bites his lip to stop himself from doing the same.

“Can I borrow the shades some time?” Ace forfeits the argument, and Felix smiles just the tiniest bit. “Sure.”

And Felix actually follows through with the promise, switching sunglasses with him when Ace later complains his own don’t go with his outfit. It’s a pretty cute gesture, like they were close friends or even a couple, and when Felix snorts and tells him he looks ridiculous it just serves to make Ace smile brighter.

It’s not like the exchange or the ones before it mean anything, it’s just harmless joking with the occasional flirt. Ace still thinks Felix is attractive, but he doesn’t have any illusions that the man would be into him like that, with what having a girlfriend and unborn baby back home, not to mention Ace having a good ten years on him in age. Still, he appreciates that Felix goes along with his cheeky comments, at least not grossed out by or taking offense to Ace’s flirting.

He only gets to keep the shades for one trial, because the Entity has blessed Felix with another outfit for Ace to offer his unsolicited opinion on.

“Oh my god,” Ace comments when he spots the horrendous, grease-streaked mop in place of Felix’s normally expertly styled hair. “Are you a closet hipster? Is an avocado smoothie going to fall out of the hat?” he quips, eyeing the fedora that is, in Ace’s humble opinion, vastly inferior to all of his own hats. “I needed a disguise to lay low for a while, and what better way to hide in plain sight in a big city?” Felix defends his unkempt hair and dirty t-shirt. “What’s your excuse?” he shoots back.

Ace glances down at his generously open shirt—gold again, just to annoy Felix—and tacky sequin pants.

“Vegas, baby,” Ace grins. “If you’d ever been, you’d know.” “I’ve never been happier to say I haven’t,” Felix chuckles. “I don’t think I could handle more of… whatever this is,” he says, gesturing to Ace’s outfit. “When we get out of here, I’m definitely taking you,” Ace quips. “I just want to see you cry over all the flashy satin and fake gold.”

Felix doesn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment like Ace expects. Instead, he stares blankly in confusion for a few seconds, before his expression settles into a smile Ace can’t quite place.

“Alright,” Felix simply says, and combined with the soft smile it’s enough to make Ace nervously look around camp for a distraction. “Hey, Kate!” he hollers, spotting the songstress braiding Meg’s hair. “You got a hairband for our friend and his questionable hair style over there?”

He ends up regretting the question as soon as Kate insists on braiding Felix’s hair and the normally standoffish man, somehow, goes along with it. He can’t believe he’s jealous for someone getting to touch the grimy, unkempt strands, and it sure as hell doesn’t help that Felix seems to like it. Kate looks thrilled to get to spend some quality time with the man, chatting about this and that and taking way longer than necessary to make the hairstyle, and Ace ends up walking away and pestering Dwight to play some cards with him so he can at least win at something.

His win streak over the poor boy is interrupted when Felix later sits down with them, gesturing for Ace to deal him in, and Ace can’t quite hide his pleased grin that Felix would rather spend time with him than the beautiful girl who just played with his hair for half an hour.

“Better?” Felix asks him, turning his head to display the most pathetic French braid Ace has ever seen, ending in a ponytail that’s barely an inch in length. “Much better,” Ace says, definitely referring to the company and not the state of his hair, and even the normally diplomatic Dwight gives him a weird glance over his cards after taking in Kate’s handiwork.

Only a few trials after the incident, Ace has the pleasure of spawning together with Felix in one of the Yamaoka maps. When he sees a horrendous checkered pattern from the corner of his eye, he knows he’s in for a treat.

He quickly turns to face the man, nearly tripping over some shrubbery as the Entity decided to place him in some inconvenient bamboo. He meets Felix's eye, opening his mouth to start a snarky comment, when his thoughts come to a complete halt upon seeing the entirety of the outfit.

“Well? Get it over with,” Felix demands, crossing his arms self-consciously and—lord have mercy—blushing a little.

Ace's brain is reduced to white noise in the equivalent of ‘hhhHhhHHhh’ while he just stands there, feet still in the stupid bamboo, and stares.

Felix's hair is now an impeccable undercut, a few loose strands framing his features beautifully, and the perfectly trimmed stubble adds a rugged charm to his handsome face. The vest is stylish, a navy blue similar to the suit Ace likes, and the checkered shirt shouldn't work with it but it does, and there's even a matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. Ace's horny brain immediately goes to hanky code and shut up brain it's in the wrong pocket—

Ace mentally shakes his head and looks at Felix's pants instead. And that was a bad idea, because he’s wearing fucking. Leather. Pants.

Again, it should look ridiculous, but Ace feels himself start salivating at the idea of them hugging Felix's ass—ugh, focus!

The pants have small ribbons on the sides and the entire ensemble is so goddamn adorable and sexy that he can't even deal. And Ace has seen a lot of handsome men during his life, mostly in the mirror, but right now, Felix takes the cake.

Felix's attitude shifts from embarrassed to curious when Ace isn't immediately opening his big mouth like usual.

“If this is how all Germans dress, it’s a tragedy I’ve never been,” Ace flirts, his dick having taken over his brain and his mouth running on autopilot.

Instead of insulting Ace's panama hat and favorite pink shirt, Felix clears his throat and averts his eyes.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” Felix mutters, cheeks heating up again as he twiddles with the cuff of his shirt.

Ace idly wonders if the bamboo bush is big enough for them to make out in without being spotted—brain, focus! The guy is just being polite, no need to jump his bones!

They've got the usual back-and-forth out of the way, but Felix still isn't moving to start the trial, regarding Ace warily and fidgeting, and he's just so fucking hot—ugh, he needs to say something, doesn't he?

“God, the things I'd let you do to me," Ace thinks while he says ‘We should find a generator’ because he's not going to creep Felix out any further—

Felix chokes on nothing and his face flushes bright red, and Ace belatedly realizes his brain got its wires crossed and he definitely said the first bit out loud. Shit, that was definitely out of line, and if Felix hasn’t been offended before he sure as hell should be now.

There’s a screech from his left and Ace has never been so glad to take a bonesaw to the shoulder as when the Nurse teleports next to him and interrupts their awkward conversation, Ace finally running out of the goddamn shrubbery while clutching his injured shoulder. Strangely enough, the Nurse doesn’t follow him as he runs up to the temple, and soon after he hears Felix yelp instead, the killer chasing him around the shack.

Damn, now he somehow needs to make it up to Felix both to apologize for his foot-in-mouth syndrome and for him taking the Nurse off Ace’s back.

Unfortunately for them, the Nurse isn't playing around this match, and when she returns to tunnel Felix right off the hook, Ace barely even gets the chance to yell out a “Move!” and throw himself in the way of the attack, much less talk to him about what happened earlier.

Soon Ace is walking back into camp, the second to last to have been sacrificed, only Claudette remaining in the trial and trying to find the hatch. He's already prepared an apology, and hopefully he'll be able to joke it off and Felix won't be weirded out by him. Well, at least not more than usual.

But then he spots Felix talking to Dwight by the edge of the camp, and Dwight freezes mid-conversation upon seeing Ace, before his face twists into a—smirk? Since when has Dwight smirked?—and he says something to Felix before taking off, walking over to where Steve and Ash look to be engaged in a game of tic-tac-toe.

Ace doesn't even have time to ponder why Dwight suddenly seems like he knows way too much, because Felix is approaching him and he knows this is a make or break it situation.

“Dwight seemed awfully smug, huh?” Ace jokes to buy himself some time after his carefully crafted apology flies out the window when he sees Felix’s serious expression. “We need to talk,” Felix says, looking and sounding every bit the stern businessman Meg thinks he is. “Yeah, alright,” Ace agrees and tries not to deflate too much upon essentially being shut down before he can even try to make things right.

As he follows Felix out into the woods away from prying eyes, he considers whether it's even worth apologizing if their friendship is done with anyway. He just hopes this won't cause unnecessary drama within the group, the others sure as hell don’t need to get involved.

His train of thought is interrupted when he's suddenly pushed against a tree, letting out a startled yelp that he’ll later vehemently deny. Shit, is Felix going to beat him up?

An arm wrapping around his hip is finally enough to pull Ace out of his racing thoughts, and when he looks up at the man he finally realizes that Felix is definitely not upset with him, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline upon seeing the clear bedroom eyes thrown his way.

“Is this not okay?” Felix asks, his dark gaze faltering from insecurity. “Naw, baby, just took me by surprise,” Ace practically purrs, a lazy grin spreading over his face as the familiar confidence returns, his hands running over Felix's shoulders appreciatively. “I thought you were upset with me from before, not that you'd take me up on the offer.” “Well, I—” Felix starts, clearing his throat self-consciously. “I've wanted this for quite some time, and Dwight said you probably wouldn't be opposed, so…”

That's what they were talking about? And Dwight convinced Felix that Ace is down to fuck? Shit, he needs to get the kid a fruit basket or something to thank him.

“He's definitely not wrong,” Ace says, trying for a seductive look but probably ends up leering stupidly from the anticipation instead. But apparently it gets the job done, because Felix pulls him tighter against him and leans in for a kiss.

And okay, wow, apparently he wasn't lying about really wanting this, because there's an urgency in the way he practically devours Ace's mouth, letting out an appreciative groan when Ace parts his lips and encourages him to deepen the kiss.

So maybe he should be worried about Felix's girlfriend or his sudden interest in men or whether he's looking for more than a casual fuck. But Ace has never been good at thinking certain things through and he's not about to start now, not when he has a breathless and flushed Felix pulling away from the kiss and looking at him with lust-blown eyes.

“I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Felix breathes, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “You really should have just asked,” Ace smirks, a little amazed that he managed to miss all the signs, because there’s nothing subtle about the way Felix looks at him now. “I was working up to it,” Felix argues. “But then you started practically eye fucking me—” “I was looking respectfully,” Ace corrects, causing Felix to snort. “You stood in a bush and drooled, and then propositioned me,” Felix points out. “Yeah, and you liked it so much you blushed like a virgin and started flirting and took the killer off of me—which, thanks for that, by the way—” Ace starts. “You're welcome.” “—and… why did I think you were mad at me again?” Ace realizes. “No idea. I thought it was pretty obvious why I dragged you here to ‘talk’,” Felix emphasizes, gaze roaming appreciatively over his body. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Ace encourages, flashing his signature smirk in challenge.

And Ace learns that no matter how much he likes Felix's outfit, getting to help Felix out of it is even better.

#dbd fanfic #felix richter #ace visconti #felix x ace #riconti #dbd #dead by daylight #dweetwrites

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calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Snapshots and Snapbacks

Summary: It’s easy to flirt with someone when you don’t expect them to call your bluff

A/N: College!Cal

Content: Sexual situations/mentions, mentions of drinking/drugs, my usual bullshit

Word Count: 10.3K

And away, and away we go!

~~~

The first time Brooke saw Calum she almost gasped out loud. There was no way a young man could be that pretty. Then he spoke and her heart raced in her chest.

She spent most of that semester staring at the pretty boy with the prettier handwriting rather than the board.

When the semester ended, she had exchanged only a handful of words with Calum, but that didn’t matter. She hoped their paths would cross again and that she would be braver about pursuing a friendship at the very least.

Two semesters later, having nearly forgotten about the pretty boy who was held her interest a year ago, he strolled into her last class of the day, and her smile broke out in a wide grin. “Cal!” she waved, motioning to the empty desk next to her as all those feelings that had laid dormant bubbled to the surface once more. “Missed ya man!”

“Shit, what up, girl?” he smiled back, bro-slapping her hand in greeting. “Was starting to think you graduated.”

“Nah,” she laughed with a shake of her head, her hand tingling from the feel of his palm against hers. “Last semester, though.”

“Shit, look at you go!” he praised.

“Thank you, thank you,” she continued to laugh, brushing imaginary dirt off her shoulders, grinning when his laugh joined hers.

~~~

Her hand reached into her bag of pretzels at the same time a Vans-clad foot shoved the leg of her desk chair. “Pst!” Calum whispered loudly, giving her desk another nudge. “Pst!”

She turned slightly in her desk to look at him, his eyes crinkling around the edges from the wide grin on his face. She tilted her chin upwards in a silent question of “What?” and stifled a laugh when he held his hand out and pouted. She laughed quietly, shaking her head as she dumped some pretzels in his waiting hand, both of them stifling more laughs as the bag crinkled in the dark and quiet classroom.

That would not be the last class he stole her snacks, thereby deeming himself Cal the Snack Thief. She damn near lost in when she brought Teddy Grahams and he let out the loudest moan stuffing them into his mouth with a “I haven’t had these in FOREVER!”

~~~

“Hey, you stole my shirt,” she joked, pointing between the shirts they were both wearing: a grey NASA tee.

“Nah,” he grinned. “Bet I had mine longer, so technically you stole mine.”

She chuckled as she took her seat. “Fair, very fair.”

“Where’s your hat?” he asked, noticing the blonde streaks in her brown hair for the first time, wondering if she always had them as she always had her hair hidden by a hat.

She pushed a hand through her hair, the blonde more noticeable as her hair flashed under the lights. “Oh, I wore a beanie today cuz it was cold. But I took it off because it made me look like shit.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that it was you making the beanie look like shit, not the other way around?” he asked teasingly.

She reached over to give his shoulder a push. “Shut up, you jerk,” she laughed before swiping the hat he wore on his own head and putting it on her head. “There, now I have my hat,” she said, sticking out her tongue at him.

Calum let out a small gasp of disbelief. Unbeknownst to her, Calum also liked Brooke. He liked that she was quick-witted in every aspect; that she could go from voicing the most complexly profound thoughts to giving the snarkiest of retorts. And he’d be lying if he said that every time she mouthed off didn’t stir his dom side wild. Like now. She continued to smirk at him before turning to face forward in her desk, her hands coming to rest cockily behind her neck, fingers interlacing. He leaned forward and snatched his hat off her head. “Shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to us, Brooke,” he breathed in her ear, getting smug satisfaction at the way she shivered.

But then, that bratty look was on her face as she turned in her seat to fire back with “Says you, snack thief.”

~~~

She heard the footsteps running up behind her before Calum was letting loose a scream behind her. She laughed and pushed his shoulder, laughing more as he stumbled over his feet. “You scared me, you jerk!”

“Yeah?” he asked, his brown eyes shining proudly.

“No,” she admitted, pushing him again. “I heard you, dumbass. If you had grabbed me though, I probably would’ve screamed.”

“Aw, shit. I had my headphones in, forgot you could hear me running.”

“You idiot,” she chuckled, pushing him a third time while he danced away from her, half chuckles falling from his own lips.

“Skip with me,” he directed.

“Skip with you?”

“Yeah! C’mon!” And then he was skipping down the sidewalk. She laughed and followed suit. God, how he could be so cute and dorky while being sexy as hell was beyond her. And totally unfair.

“So, where you headed?” she asked as they stopped skipping and fell into a relaxed walking pace.

His shoulders shrugged as he gripped his backpack straps. “Was gonna play some pool. Did you know we have a game center on campus? It’s fuckin’ sick.”

She rolled her eyes. “You really are an idiot.”

“What?”

“DiD yOu KnOw We HaVe A gAmE cEnTeR oN cAmPuS?” she mocked. “Of course we have a game center.”

“Well, shit, I didn’t know about it until Monday, okay Miss Smartypants? Shit…”

“I’m teasing, you goof. But, pool, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m not very good. But it’s a good way to kill some time.”

“Aw, don’t wanna go home?” she teased.

“Not to 3 dudes, I don’t!”

“Aw, roommates, how cute.”

“Yeah, I’m a broke ass college student. ‘Course I got roommates. You don’t?”

“Nope,” she answered, popping the “p” sound. “I’m a RA so I get a single at a discount.”

“Nice, look at you, baller.”

She shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“You mean you can have sex without anyone bothering you, you mean.”

She gasped in shock, “Calum!”

It was his turn to shrug as he grinned dangerously. “Am I wrong?” he challenged.

“That is none of your business, sir,” Brooke laughed, grateful it was dark out so he couldn’t she the blush in her cheeks.

“Aw, c’mon, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“That we most definitely are,” she agreed, bypassing his original question. “And this is you,” she added, gesturing to the student center.

“This is me,” he confirmed. “See ya Monday, then?”

“Yeah, see ya in class,” she nodded. “Have fun.” Then, in a moment of bravery, she leaned for a hug.

His arm wrapped around her shoulders and she was slightly taken aback by the warm softness that radiated from such a strong arm. “See ya, girl,” he whispered as they broke apart.

By the time she let herself into her room, she had already sent him a friend request on Instagram and he had accepted.

~~~

Her fingers shook over her keyboard, the message chat open on her phone. She had been too shy to impose herself on his game of pool the other night. But he had said they were friends. Friends could play pool together.

Babbling_Brook: How’d playing pool by yourself go lol?

Calpal_hoodie: Lol! Actually one of the pool sharks in there came up to me and wanted to play some frames. It was a really good time.

Babbling_Brook: Oh shit that’s cool! We should play sometime before class lol. See if I still suck.

Her fingers shook with nerves as she waited for his message.

Calpal_hoodie: Haha down!

She let out a breath of relief. Good. He had agreed. Now to make it happen.

Babbling_Brook: Sick. I’m free before class for like 3 hours.

Calpal_hoodie: I have about an hour before.

Babbling_Brook: Sweet, I’ll be able to practice beforehand so I don’t make a total fool of myself lmao.

Calpal_hoodie: Lol! I’m nothing special, it’s okay

Babbling_Brook: We’ll see on Monday then who sucks more lmao

~~~

It was a slow drag to Monday and the impending date to shoot pool. It seemed to both like an eternity had taken place between Brooke’s last message Friday morning and her message Monday afternoon that included a picture of a pool table set up and waiting.

Babbling_Brook: Let’s go, playa!

Calpal_hoodie: I didn’t do the worksheet for class! After?

Her heart sank a little in her chest, but she wasn’t surprised her friend had procrastinated the idiotic assignment that was due every class.

Babbling_Brook: Do it in class lol

Calpal_hoodie: Lol! Sounds good! He doesn’t collect them until the end of class anyway.

Babbling_Brook: Exactly dude!

Calpal_hoodie: Dude! Did I tell you how I bought a new stick? Won’t be here til tomorrow though…

Babbling_Brook: Nice! Table’s set, btw.

“Oi! Over here!” Brooke called out across the room, recognizing that head of dark curls anywhere.

He broke out in a grin, as he hurried over to her. “What up, girl?” he asked, giving her a one-armed hug.

“Not much,” she said, gesturing to the pool table. “Wanna break?”

“Oh, we’re not playing 9-ball?” he asked, brown eyes scanning the table set up.

“No? Because I don’t know how?”

He nodded, placing the cue ball how he wanted, his pool cue sliding through his fingers. “After this, I’ll teach ya?” he asked, taking his shot, the balls clacking loudly, one sinking into a pocket.

She clicked her tongue in her cheek and nodded. “For sure.” Then, “I thought you were bad at this.”

He chuckled at her as he lined up his next shot. “I am. But I also watch a lot so…”

“Visual learner, nice,” she said, taking out her phone and snapping a picture of him leaning over the table. He missed and she moved around, plotting her own shot. “I learn by doing,” she admitted, taking her shot and missing. “Damn,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Learn by doing, eh?” he smirked.

“Was about to turn that into a sex joke myself,” she laughed. Again, when he was busying himself with his turn, she snapped more photos of him. He quirked an eyebrow at her in silent question when he caught her on the third go-round. “What?” she asked, her cheeks flushing. “I like taking candids of my friends,” she half-lied, pocketing her phone. “I like capturing people in their element. Not posing for the camera or putting on a show. Just them being a hundred percent themselves.”

“Mhm,” he replied with a note of playful skepticism. Then, to make conversation, “You said you had a girlfriend, yeah?”

She laughed at the bold directness of the question. “What?! No!”

“No? Shit… I could’ve sworn… Aw, I’m so sorry!” he sputtered, his brown eyes wide and worried he had offended her. He was enveloping her in a hug before she knew it, his chest solid against her. “I love you! Don’t hate me!”

She laughed as they pulled apart. “I might have said I want a girlfriend, but I don’t actually have one. I wish.”

“You and me both,” he laughed. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

She waved him off. “Seriously man, it’s cool. You’re half right. I’m bi. It’s really fun to piss guys off by saying I’ve made out with more girls than they have. I mean, I’ve only made out with 2 girls. But still. You’d be surprised how many guys haven’t even done that.”

He nodded in appreciation. “Sick. So was it a boyfriend, then, and I just misheard?”

“Well…” she paused to think about it. “I mean, I’m seeing someone.”

He nodded and she detected the way his face fell for a moment. His face fell more when he sunk the 8 ball in the pocket and the cue ball followed. “Shit, good game.”

She laughed. “Thanks! It’s almost like you did all the work for me!”

“It’s cuz I did,” he laughed with her. “Alright, so 9-ball,” he started to explain as he set up the table. “You play with 9 balls.”

“Mmm, kinky,” Brooke snorted. “Continue.”

He rolled his eyes at her joke. “And you go in order. As long as you hit the first number in the sequence first, you’re good.”

Their game made them a few minutes late to their class, both of them giggling as the sped-walked across the room. “No, sit in front of me,” he whispered as she took her regular set in the row beside him.

She rolled her eyes but moved anyway, giggling more before reaching into her backpack to grab her snack. She pushed it to the bottom edge of her desk so he could reach. “More pool after class? Or you got plans?” she whispered, leaning back in her seat.

“Yeah, I’m down for a few games,” he whispered back, his hand reaching into the bag of teddy bear shaped graham crackers. Then, “So, you’ve only ever made out with chicks, but have you…?”

She gasped at the question he left hanging between them. “Yes, I’ve had sex. But only with one dude.”

“The one you’re seeing?”

She nodded. “And your body count?”

He snickered into his hand. “Way more than one.”

She turned, her eyes wide. She shouldn’t be surprised. He was a good looking guy. Too good looking if she could say so herself. Of course he was using it to his benefit.

~~~

“So, the guy?” he questioned, eyes trained on the pool table after class. “Must be good dick if he’s the only one?”

She laughed from her spot on the stool. “I guess? I mean, I wouldn’t know any different.”

“Aw, how cute,” he teased.

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed at him, then put her hands on top of her head and sighed. “Fuck, I need to get fucked though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Yeah. Haven’t seen him in like a week.”

“You seeing him tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit, what are you doing here playing pool with me for? Go get your dick girl!”

She rolled her eyes. “He hasn’t texted me he landed yet. I got time.”

“Long distance?”

She shook her head. “Nah, he was just traveling for work.”

“Nice,” he nodded. “So tits or ass?”

“My preference? As a girl with no ass herself, I’m a tit woman.”

He let out a chuckle of agreement. “No offense, but doesn’t seem like you got much tits either.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll have you know my tits are huge.”

“Bullshit. What size?”

“Triple D, bitch!” she stated proudly.

“Bull-fuckin-shit! Bet that is the roomiest fuckin bra in the planet.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she smirked. “So, you a dom or a sub?” she asked, keeping the conversation going. If they were talking sex, she was going to get every inch, figuratively speaking.

He let his breathe in a sputtering huff as he thought, he hands raking through his curls. “Depends I guess.”

“Aw, you a switch?” she teased.

“Are you?” he challenged, equally playful.

She shrugged. “I’m a brat. Like I gave this guy the perfect chance to dom me and he flopped. It was kinda sad.”

He laughed. “What did you say?”

“I forget what started it. But I ended up asking what he was gonna do about it. And he just shrugged.”

His eyes went wide and his nose flared slightly at her words. “Oh yeah. Asking what I’m gonna do is gonna get the dom out. Like, excuse me?”

She laughed and shifted in her seat under his gaze. “Yeah! That’s what I expected was going to happen. But nope! What a shame.” She didn’t catch his muttered agreement as her phone buzzed. “Oh, yay! He landed.”

“Gotta go?” he asked, busying himself with taking his shot to hide his deflation.

“Nah,” she waved her hand. “We can finish the game. He’s still gotta get here.”

“Alright, for sure,” he said, perking back up again.

The game didn’t last much longer as Calum remained his innocence that he really wasn’t that good and Brooke proved that she actually wasn’t good. “Alright, I’m out,” she said, setting her pool stick aside. “See ya Wednesday?” she asked, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Yup,” he said, giving her another one armed hug. “Go get that dick.”

She laughed as they let go and walked off calling out, “I fuckin will!”

As she tidied up her room, waiting for her actual date, she sent Calum the pictures she had taken of him earlier.

Babbling_Brook: Some of the better shots I took

Calpal_hoodie: Nice! Had a great time. Let’s do it again, yeah?

She grinned at her phone before responding.

Babbling_Brook: Oh for fuckin sure. New after class ritual lol?

Calpal_hoodie: Down

Babbling_Brook: Sweet. We should try the little bowling thing they got. Maybe I can actually win lmao

Calpal_hoodie: You a good bowler?

Babbling_Brook: Nope! But my dude makes mini bowling alleys for a living so I like to think I got a slight advantage lol

Calpal_hoodie: Oh, gotcha! He home yet?

Babbling_Brook: Nah. He’s stopping to get us burgers first.

Calpal_hoodie: Animal style burger then fuck me animal style lol?

Babbling_Brook: He fuckin better!

Calpal_hoodie: Jesus lmao. Hahaha. Love it.

Babbling_Brook: Look, my hand and vibrator only do so much before a girl just needs a real dick. And THAT’S why I’m only half gay.

Calpal_hoodie: With the technology y’all have with vibrators… so much pressure is put on the men I’ll have you know. When a vibrator can hit “your spot” a million times without fail… it really sets us up for failure lmao

Babbling_Brook: Well maybe I have a romantic kink then lol. I need human touch more than I need a damn vibrator.

On the other side of campus, Calum hung his head sadly, wishing more than he cared to admit that he was the one providing her with that human touch she craved.

~~~

On Wednesday, Brooke carefully plotted her outfit. She was a bit bitter that Calum hadn’t believed her about her boob size, and she was determined to make him regret ever having doubted her.

She admired herself briefly in her tank top before she threw on her hoodie and hat.

~~~

She was leaving the gym and was headed for the game center when her phone pinged.

Calpal_hoodie: Syllabus doesn’t have a worksheet for today so guess who’s ditching?

Babbling_Brook: Bruh… so pool?

Calpal_hoodie: Yeah I’ll be playing pool until my pussy appointment later tonight. So like til 8 probs.

Her heart sank a little. But she supposed it was her fault for bragging about her own sex life.

Babbling_Brook: Shit, get it!

Calpal_hoodie: Yeah. So I’ll be playing with some of the pool sharks, but if you wanna swing by, I’ll play a few games with ya.

She chuckled and took a quick selfie of her with the pool tables behind her.

Babbling_Brook: “swing by later” bitch get on my level lmao

Calpal_hoodie: Haha! Okay I see you I see you.

Brooke chuckled to herself as she pocketed her phone and watched the door for him. She had shrugged herself free of the hoodie long ago, the Southern California weather providing more warmth than seemed logically possible for the middle of February. She drummed her fingers impatiently against her leg, her mind debating whether to get a table for herself or just to wait.

She narrowed her eyes when Calum finally did stroll in, and right past her, a man on a mission. Rather than storming over there like she wanted, she took out her phone and snapped more photos of him, enjoying seeing him in his element. Then, she picked up her things and strolled over.

“Just walk right by me, huh?” she greeted teasingly, her hand going to rest on his shoulder.

His brown eyes shined brightly and he grinned as he turned towards her familiar voice. “Hey! Shit, my bad,” he responded, wrapping her in his famous one-armed hug. “Must’ve walked right by you.”

“Yeah, I saw you walk by and was like really?”

“I’m sorry!” he laughed, pouting his lips at her. “Do you have a table?”

“Nah,” she waved her hand. “I’ll watch for a bit. We’ll play ourselves later.”

“Cool, for sure,” he nodded before engaging himself with the small group of guys already playing at the table.

She pretended to busy herself with her phone or studying the table, anything to distract herself from studying him. She had her back turned when his fingers brushing across her bare shoulder made her jump. “Nice tattoo,” he murmured as he retracted his light touch, her skin on fire.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, her cheeks flushing as her own fingers flew up to trace the sunflower his fingers had been tracing mere seconds ago. “I like yours too,” she added, pointing at his arms that held much more ink than her single small shoulder piece.

His soft chuckle tickled her ear as he stayed close behind her. “Also, I owe you an apology,” he said, his eyes darting downwards briefly. “I see it now with the tank top.”

“Told ya,” she smirked over her shoulder at him.

His eyes went wide in realization. “Wait! Did you wear a tank top on purpose?”

She scoffed and averted his gaze. “What? That’s ridiculous. No I- yes I did,” she laughed, not able to keep a straight face. “Did it work?” she asked with a hopeful voice.

He let out another soft chuckle in response, then, “Go set up a table. I’m almost done with this game.”

“Aw shit, are we keeping you from your girl?” one of the guys Calum had been playing with asked.

The two friends jumped apart. “What? No! We’re just friends!” they both blurted before Brooke walked off to the front desk to get a table for her and Calum.

“Sorry about that,” Calum said, a hand rubbing at his neck when she came back.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s harmless.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he chuckled. “Could you imagine though?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and slight smirk.

She laughed at his bluntness. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t,” she answered truthfully.

“Oh yeah?” he questioned, cocking his head to the side.

She shrugged. “You’re a good looking dude. I got a nice rack. I’m also smart as hell. We get along. Wouldn’t be a whole lot different than what we’re doing now.”

“Shit, I suppose you’re right. Too bad we’ll never know.” His shrug mirrored her own, his words meaning different things to each of them. To him, he was referring to her “seeing someone” and to her it was solidification that a guy like him would never go for a girl like her.

“Yup,” she said, just to have something to say as she lined up her shot.

“Here, can I tell you something?” he asked suddenly.

“Yeah, shoot,” she said, straightening up, intrigued.

“You bridge with your thumb,” he told her, pointing at her hand still resting on the pool table. “Which is fine because you can tilt it and such. But lie the rest of your knuckles flat on the table. It’ll give you steadier control.”

“Oh. Like this?” she checked, adjusting her hand slightly so her knuckles were flat against the green felt rather than tilted at an angle.

“Yeah, there you go.”

She bent back over the table to take her shot, fully aware of how heavy his gaze felt on her.

They remained quiet as they went about playing their game, minus the small muttered curses at a missed shot, exchanging soft smiles as they moved about the table and each other. When he won, he high-fived her. “Good game. You almost had me. Play by yourself for a bit and I’ll be back to check on you? I’m gonna go get in on another game with them if I can,” he said, jerking a thumb at the table in front of them.

“I’ll be here,” she smiled at him, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks at his mention of checking up on her. She lost herself in focusing on her own game, but her gaze still fluttered over to him more than she intended. And every time she looked away, he looked over at her.

“You good?” he asked, coming up behind her.

She pushed the strands of hair that were falling in her face out of the way, having discarded her hat a while ago. “Yup. How’s your game?”

“Oh we finished. But the other guy wants to play so here I am. Mind if I?” He let his gesturing finish his question as his large hand swept over the table.

She took a step back, “Go for it.”

Again, they didn’t say much. This time though, she busied herself with getting lost in the music playing from the speakers around the room, singing softly and moving her hips to the beat. He tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t get her off his mind. There was something in the way she just felt familiar to him, like he didn’t have to put on a show. He could just be, and she would just accept it, no questions asked.

He drummed his fingers against his thighs after he cleared the table, pondering his next move. “Alright, I’m heading back over there. But, uh…?”

Brooke chuckled. “Go do you. I’m fine.”

She played another two games by herself without Calum coming back. She set up for a third game, and left it there before walking over to where he was. “Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder, feeling her heart race when he turned and grinned at her.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” she laughed at his happy nature, his eyes rimmed red.

“We’re a little high. Wanna hit?”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

“Don’t smoke?”

“No.”

“Have you ever?”

“Once.”

“Nice! Oh, I’m gonna go get some food. You guys want anything?”

“I won’t say no to a cheese pizza. Since you’re offering.”

The other guy muttered something about how pizza sounded great, pulling out his wallet.

“Nah,” Calum waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I offered.”

“Ah, well shit. I’ll get next time then. I don’t like mooching.”

Brooke laughed and touched Calum’s shoulder again. “Oh, I don’t give a fuck about mooching.”

Calum laughed with her, before his eyes got playfully dark. “Venmo me, bitch.”

She laughed more, “Nah, I’ll pay you in other ways, yeah?” she teased , eyes darting to his lap.

The other guy clapped a hand to his mouth as he snorted in laughter. “Damn, you gonna suck his dick right here?”

Brooke ran a hand through her hair, “Cal wishes.”

“Right. You guys aren’t together. But like… would you?”

Brooke shrugged and opted for honesty, “Yeah, I’d fuck him.”

“Nice. And you?” he asked Calum.

“Me what?”

“Would you fuck her?”

“Given a chance? Oh, hell yeah.” He reached into his backpack and took a hit off a vape pen before walking off in search of pizza.

“So are you with someone else or is he?” the guy asked Brooke.

“Uh… little bit of both?” she said skeptically with a shrug as she took a seat on the stool.

He nodded. Then blinked. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“Well, I’ve been seeing someone for years. But weren’t not… serious I guess? More of like a super close friendship that involves sex.”

He nodded again, understanding better. “So dating without the label?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I guess. And not for lack of trying on my part. I mean, I like the dude, obviously. But I’d also like to say I have a boyfriend.”

“Mhm. And that one?” he asked, jerking a thumb towards where Calum had wandered off.

“Oh, Cal’s single. He’s actually going to hook up with a chick later.”

“And that chick isn’t you?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Why not? You just both admitted you’d fuck each other. You guys seem to get along. And he hasn’t stopped checking you out.”

She blushed. “I think I ruined it by telling him I was seeing someone. I think he thinks it’s an actual relationship. And I don’t know how to bring that up. Especially now. ‘Hey Cal, remember how we just said we’d fuck each other given a chance? Well, I’m actually single. Surprise!’? No. He’d think I was just saying it. And I’m not into people thinking I’m using them.”

The guy nodded for a third time. “Fair enough. Fuck, I’m so high right now. Shit, I gotta get to class. How long does it take to get pizza?”

Brooke chuckled as she pushed back her hair. “Want me to go check on him?”

“Would you mind?”

“Nah, not at all,” she said getting up. She would take any excuse to be with Calum.

Calum had a beer in his hand and was sitting at a table, his head down as he looked at the phone in his other hand. She couldn’t stop herself from suppressing the urge to place her hands on those squishy cheeks as she moved towards him but at the last second, her hands placed themselves on either side of his head, giving him a playful shake. “Hey!” he said, brightening up as he realized it was her. “I got a beer,” he added, showing her the beer in his hand. “The pizza should be out soon. I got a medium cuz it was cheaper.”

“Smart move,” she agreed. “I didn’t know you were even old enough to drink.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I’m 22. My birthday was a couple weeks ago.”

“Shit yeah? I turned 22 back in December.”

“Aw, we like birthday buddies almost.”

“Almost yeah. Hey, I didn’t make things awkward when I admitted I’d sleep with you, did I?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, I admitted the same thing. We’re still cool.”

“Cool,” she smiled.

“So what’s up? Come to check on me?”

“Yeah, thought I’d keep you company. Plus the guy’s gotta get to class so he’s getting a bit impatient.”

Calum’s laugh rang out in the pizza shop. “Guess he’s gonna be late to class. But, tell him it shouldn’t be much longer?”

“Yeah, for sure,” she said, patting his shoulder before walking back to the game room.

“Aw, damn, was hoping you’d both come back,” the guy said, seeing only her return.

“Sorry, man. Cal got a medium cuz it was cheaper so he’s gotta wait. Should be done soon though.”

“Alright, no problem,” he had just enough time to respond before Calum was walking to them, a pizza box with plates in one hand and his beer in the other. “Awesome! Wish I didn’t have to grab and leave, but I gotta get going. Got a quiz.”

“No worries man,” Calum told him, handing the other man a plate and opening the box. “Sorry it took so long.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Thanks, man,” he said, loading his plate up with slices of pizza. “Catch ya later. Nice meeting you…” his voice faltered as he looked at Brooke.

“Brooke,” she supplied. “Nice meeting you too.”

“Yup. See ya guys.”

“Thanks for the pizza, Cal,” she said, putting a slice on the plate he handed her.

“No problem. Needed to eat something. Aw, he took like all the pepperoni,” he frowned at the box.

She looked at the box with him, her heart fluttering that half of it was cheese for her. “You could’ve gotten it all pepperoni.”

“But you wanted cheese,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

“You’re cute, you know that?” she asked, being bold and taking a sip of his beer herself, wincing at the taste.

“Hey!” he laughed, snatching his beer back. “Getcha own beer.”

She made a face. “Yuck! You can keep it. Ugh. Nasty!”

“So you don’t drink either?”

She shook her head. “That makes me like the most boring person on the planet huh? College girl who doesn’t drink or smoke.”

“Nah,” he said with a shake of his head. “One of my roommates is the same way. So you just don’t like the taste or you scared?”

“Scared? I’m not scared of anything.”

He laughed. “No! I didn’t mean it like that. Not scared of anything, huh? Should’ve guessed. I just meant… some people don’t drink because they got a family history. So they’re more… aware of the choices they make. Or don’t make, I guess.”

“Is your roommate one of those people?”

“Yeah. Being an alcoholic scares him. Rightfully so. Shit’s scary.”

“You don’t seem scared yourself.”

He shrugged. “I like to think I know my limits. Like this will be the only drink I have.”

She nodded, approvingly. “I’m just not a big fan of the taste. But, I’ll drink every now and then. But even then, it’s barely enough to give me a buzz. I like being in control.”

“Ooo, a dom, eh?” his eyes danced playfully.

“Says the switch!” she laughed. “No. I’m just a brat. Don’t have enough confidence to actually be a dom. I’m all bark and no bite.” Her voice trailed off as they ate their pizza. When she caught him lip syncing to the music playing through the speakers, she spoke up, “Like this music?”

He nodded, a slight red tinge undertoning his tanned cheeks. “Yeah. But I’ll listen to just about anything.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I play and sing, so…”

“Yeah?! That’s awesome. What do you play?”

“Bass, mostly. My roommates and I are actually in a band.”

“No shit?” she asked. “Would love to watch you play sometime then.”

“Yeah? Shit, I’ll tell you next time we practice, then,” he promised, reaching into the pizza box. “Aw, shit, is there any left?”

She nodded. “Should be one more.”

“Yeah? How many did you have?”

“This is my third.”

“That was my fourth. Last one’s yours then.”

She shook her head. “No. You bought it. You take it. I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Game?”

“For sure,” he nodded, taking a big bite of the slice.

They played at a slow pace, taking their time. At one point he went back to his pizza slice to take a bite, but held it out to her in offering. She grinned and instead of taking it from his hands like he expected, she leaned down and tore off a piece with her teeth. “Thanks,” she continued to grin around the bite, making him laugh. They loved how easy it felt to be around each other, quirky banter without any sense of awkwardness or trying to impress the other. Just straight up honesty at every turn.

“Ugh!” he muttered in frustration as he missed what seemed like an easy shot even for her. “I’m getting mad!”

She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled so hard she let out a loud squeaky wheezing sound.

“Was that you?” he asked.

She nodded, her body continuing to shake with her laughter. “Sorry. I do that when I laugh too hard. You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

“You know that you’re just cute?” he asked back.

She blushed and busied herself with taking her turn, opting not to respond.

“So what’s your favorite position?” he asked her.

“Shit!” she sputtered, bringing a finger to her lips in thought.

“My bad. You don’t have to answer.”

“Nah, it’s cool. Just a good question. Shit… Uh… well I’m a little romantic at heart, so probably missionary. But I like others too.”

“Yeah? Missionary’s my favorite because I can pull her hair and make her look at me.”

Her eyes went wide. “Ooo, into hair pulling huh? I love pulling and getting my hair pulled.”

His own eyes went wide and his cock twitched in his pants. “Yeah? What other positions do you like? You said there were others.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Yeah,” she stammered. “Well, uh… like most girls I assume, I get off through clit stimulation. So 69 is like a gold mine. Doggy’s also nice.”

He nodded approvingly as his cock twitched more. “Wanna know the nice part of doggy?” he asked, his voice catching a little.

“What?” she laughed, knowing she had him about as flustered as he had her.

“You get to pull her up by her hair and play with her clit,” he winked.

“Ayyyy! That’s exactly why I like it!”

“It’s definitely on the list of positions I like too. Plus I get to choke her a bit. That’s why I like missionary too.”

“Any position you can choke and pull her hair, huh? See, I like doggy because I get both of those and some ass smacking. All my kinks in one position.”

“Aw, you got them soft kinks,” he teased.

“Shut up, so do you!” she laughed.

He sat down in a high-backed chair that rocked slightly with his movements. “Aw, shit, this chair would be perfect to have a girl riding me on,” he acknowledged with a horny look. His teeth sunk into his lower lip as he gripped the armrests and made the chair rock more. “Just, a little this with her hand choking me. Phew… Clutch, lemme tell ya.”

“Annnd, there’s the switch,” she giggled.

“Look, I only like being dommed when she’s riding me. Otherwise, I’m domming.”

“Next you’re gonna tell me you like being called ‘Daddy’,” she scoffed at him.

The way his eyes lit up at the title had her gulping involuntarily. “Fuck yeah. The girl I’m gonna hook up with later- we’ve hooked up in the past- she called me ‘Sir’ once and I corrected her so fuckin’ hard.”

She laughed to hide her arousal. “You’re so weird.”

He smirked at her as he stood up. “Aw, got you a little flustered, do I?” he breathed down at her once he had closed their distance

“Like I don’t have you just as flustered,” she shot back, rubbing her hand against his cheek. “Daddy,” she added with a loud laugh. She pursed her lips in a knowing smirk of her own at the way he looked: his eyes clenched shut, hands curling in a fist, and teeth biting into his lip. “What? I shouldn’t touch you?” she continued to play with him, dropping her hand to draw it down his torso, enjoying the feel of his muscles underneath her fingertips. He radiated strength in a way that made her weak in the knees and wet between her thighs. Thankfully for her, she could hide her arousal better than he could.

“You really shouldn’t,” he said, his lips barely moving, and his brown eyes practically pitch black with lust.

She shrugged and stepped back. “Your shot, by the way,” she told him, gesturing at the pool table.

Right. Pool. He had nearly forgotten what he was originally here to do, his mind full of thoughts that centered around bending her over the pool table and wiping that smirk off her face. Her own mind raced with similar thoughts, wishing he didn’t have a hook up date with another girl.

~~~

Brooke wasn’t expecting to hear from Calum until Monday, so when her phone pinged not even an hour after they had said their goodbyes for the night, she was definitely surprised.

Calpal_hoodie: Wanna hear something annoying?

She perked up so much, she felt a little guilty.

Babbling_Brook: Omg, yes! What happened with your date?

Calpal_hoodie: So, she gets here. We drove around to find a spot. I take out my condoms. She’s ALLERGIC to them! So, I drove to a store to get new ones. I drive back. And she’s like “can you drive me back please?” She was about to break down about her break up with her ex and couldn’t handle it. So dry dick for Cal.

Brooke clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress her giggles. On one hand, she felt bad for him. On the other, she was glad his date had freaked out. The fact that- besides playing venting at her- he had let his date call it quits before it even started only made Brooke feel better about her feelings about Calum.

Babbling_Brook: If it makes you feel any better, this chick I’m never gonna stand a chance with called me a pussy wetter. Which like… no… I’m dorky and awkward. I just have a talent for being smooth as fuck

Calpal_hoodie: Lol. You want me to agree with her, don’t you?

Babbling_Brook: I mean… I gave you the set up…

Calpal_hoodie: Lol! Yes, you definitely have pussy wetting potential.

Babbling_Brook: Potential?! Aw, bubbie…

Calpal_hoodie: Bubbie? Lol

Babbling_Brook: Not into pet names? Cal the Snack Thief is a tad long... And again. “Potential”?! Smh… lowkey offended, bubbie.

Calpal_hoodie: So am I… And no! I didn’t mean it like that, honest… When I use the term “potential” it means you already got it.

Babbling_Brook: 1.) Did you just make a big dick joke? 2.) I’m teasing. I know I’m a smooth talking son of a gun. I can talk the panties off a mannequin.

Calpal_hoodie: Yes, yes I did lol. And note taken. That was smooth right there.

Babbling_Brook: I mean… I made you nice and flustered earlier, yeah?

Calpal_hoodie: Oh yeah… fuck! I just want pussy in my mouth with my cock down someone’s throat… is that too much to ask?!

Babbling_Brook: You and me both, bubbie. Only the opposite. But yeah…

Calpal_hoodie: Wake up that dude of yours by sucking his dick then, lmao. I’m gonna get high as balls.

Babbling_Brook: Nah, I’m probs just gonna go to bed. As for you? Yeah, go get high as balls and maybe you’ll forget it’s your own hand you’re fucking.

Calpal_hoodie: Now you’re just making me feel bad lmao

Babbling_Brook: Just being a brat, like whatchu gonna do?

Calpal_hoodie: Lmao, I think you know what I would do… fuck, I’ll probably end up sending nudes to my chick after I smoke. I always get more comfortable doing that when I’m high as hell.

Babbling_Brook: Makes sense. Being drunk/high tends to lower one’s inhibitions so people are more likely to step outside of their normal comfort zone when under the influence (See, told ya I was smart, too)

Calpal_hoodie: Alright, calm down Plato lol

Babbling_Brook: Lol.

She paused and looked at her phone. Her curiosity was getting the better of her. She had to know.

Babbling_Brook: Now… out of pure curiosity… I’m pretty bratty with you frequently. Given the chance, what would you actually do?

Calpal_hoodie: Look at you all turned on asking me lol

She chuckled at her phone. She wasn’t going to let him see her sweat. She turned up the brat charm.

Babbling_Brook: My curiosity is turned on, sure. As for the rest of me? Dry as your dick, bubbie.

Calpal_hoodie: Oh, damn! Alright… so like… what would I do to you sexually? If I had the chance and you were single?

She frowned at her phone, briefly. Was he only this willing to divulge all this information to her because he thought she was with someone else? Because he could freely flirt with her because he thought all it amounted to was just two friends talking shit? She wondered if now was her chance to come clean. Let him know that he had misinterpreted her words when she said she was seeing someone. But, she was afraid he would balk if she did. That knowing there was no actual boundary would be what pushed their relationship into awkward territory. And as much as she liked him that way, she also really enjoyed the friendship and didn’t want to lose that.

Babbling_Brook: Yeah. We’re both single. We have the relationship we do now. I mouth off like I always do. What do you do?

Calpal_hoodie: Well I’d tell you that if you keep mouthing off, you won’t have any room left in your mouth to speak. And of course you wouldn’t want to stop talking shit then. So I’d prove it and make you get on your knees for me… and if we had that room to ourselves, you’d definitely end up over that pool table taking every inch. But… ya know… lol!

Brooke gulped, reading the message, knowing he wouldn’t have told her that if she told him the truth. It was easy to be bold when you thought nothing could come of it.

Babbling_Brook: Oh, so when you said you were a dom, you meant like a dom dom. Alright… I dig.

Calpal_hoodie: Lol oh yeah. And you? What would you do?

Babbling_Brook: Shit… flip the script, yeah? Alright… Well, I’d definitely be much brattier knowing I could probably get something out of it. Test these dom limits of yours. And then get hella insecure that you saw me as a fling. Because even though I started everything in good fun, I’d be secretly craving a relationship like the romantic ho I am.

Calpal_hoodie: Aw! Least you’re honest. Well, would’ve been fun.

She shook her head sadly at her phone. If only he knew this was all entirely possible.

Babbling_Brook: I try to be lol. Like in all reality, I’d let you fuck me six ways to Sunday and then probably cry about it because I’d get all girly about it. But I’d still be my bratty self to you in person acting all cool and unbothered cuz I don’t want to be clingy and weird. Definitely would’ve been a ride for sure- pun fully intended.

Calpal_hoodie: Aw! That’s like both a lil sad but so honest and genuine. Nice pun, btw lol.

Babbling_Brook: Lol, it’s okay though. Cuz, trust, you’d want a relationship. Like I’m fuckin great! I can be adventurous as fuck or we can chill in bed all day watching movies. And I value my independence so like I’m more than fine with you going off with your boys or whatever cuz I like my alone time. Plus, I’ll remind you of what you got waiting for you later…

Calpal_hoodie: Ayyy! Sounds good to me lmao! Fuck, I still gotta smoke…

Babbling_Brook: Cool, cool. I’m gonna hit the hay. Enjoy that smoke and the thoughts we put in each other’s head lol!

Calpal_hoodie: Lmao, will do!

They both did. They both made a mess of themselves at the idea of giving themselves over to the other one.

~~~

Again, Brooke didn’t expect to hear from Calum until Monday at class. So when her phone pinged on Saturday and the notification said it was from him, her eyebrows pinched together in confusion while her heart raced in excitement.

Calpal_hoodie: Hey, I dunno if you had plans or anything. But my roommates and I are gonna have a rehearsal. So if… No worries if you’re busy. Just thought you’d be interested.

Babbling_Brook: Nah, that sounds great! I’m off today. Where you guys at?”

He messaged her an address to a set of apartments she knew was a few blocks from campus. A twenty minute walk, tops. She looked out the window at the soft warm sunshine. A walk would be perfect.

Babbling_Brook: Cool, be there in twenty. Should I bring anything?

Calpal_hoodie: Nah, just your cute ass

Babbling_Brook: Lmao, you mean my nonexistent ass?

Calpal_hoodie: Lol, it’s okay. You don’t need an ass. You got tits for days.

Babbling_Brook: That I do, lol. See ya in a few then.

The music playing in her headphones got caught off by her phone pinging. Her heart sank, thinking it was Calum cancelling. But it wasn’t. It was Trevor, her not-boyfriend.

Trev: Hey

Brookie: Hey

Trev: You busy?

Brookie: Yeah, I’m actually heading over to a friend’s. Gonna watch his band practice

Trev: His? Like a dude?

Brookie: Is that a problem?

Trev: No. So later then?

Brookie: Maybe… What are we, Trev?

Trev: This again? Brookie…

Brookie: I know. I just…

Trev: You wanna fuck this dude without feeling guilty?

Brookie: Don’t put words in my mouth… I’m not trying to fight.

Trev: I’m not either. Look, we’ve dated other people before. You’re free to do what you want Brookie. I’ll be here whenever you’re done having your fun.

Brookie: Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m the one stringing you along. You wanted this setup, not me.

Trev: I wasn’t saying that to be mean, Brookie, damn. Seriously, have your fun.

Brookie: I’m sorry, Trev. I didn’t expect to feel this way.

Trev: You don’t have to apologize, Brookie. I’m the idiot who keeps you at arm’s length. I know that comes with the risk of losing you to someone who won’t. But that’s my problem, not yours.

Brookie: I’m still sorry. I don’t like hurting you.

Trev: I know. That’s part of your charm Brookie. You care deeply about everyone around you. Don’t worry about me, okay?

Brookie: Easier said than done, Trev…

Trev: I know. See ya around, Brookie.

She sniffed back the tears that threatened to fall, feeling stupid for mourning a loss that was never hers to lose in the first place. All Trevor and her had been were friends who sometimes had sex. Which is why she had known exactly what to say to Calum about what she would afterwards in the event they ever crossed the line and had sex themselves. It had been a projection of her own relationship with Trevor. She just had to keep faith that maybe her relationship with Calum would have a better ending.

She paused to collect herself before she rapped her knuckles on the door of Calum’s apartment. The door swung open before she had even finished knocking and she was being pulled in the apartment and that one-armed hug she only now fully realized how much she loved. “Hey! You’re here! Guys! This is Brooke. Brooke, these are the guys. Ash, Luke, and Mike.”

3 tall guys nodded as their names were called, first a hazel-eyed brunette with a bright red bandana, then a blue-eyed blonde with a lip ring, and a guy with hair dyed the same shade of green as his eyes.

“Hi,” she squeaked, heat rushing to her cheeks. Of course someone as good looking as Calum would have equally good-looking friends.

“You okay?” Calum asked her, his brown eyes full of concern.

She let out her breath in a huff and shrugged her shoulders. “Eh,” she held her hand flat and gave it a small shake. “It’s fine. So do you guys do covers or write your own stuff?”

“Bit of both,” the blonde told her.

“Cool! What would you classify the stuff you make as? Like genre?”

“Punk!” the green-haired man grinned.

Brooke chuckled as the others sighed, “Mikey…”

“We’re mostly rock oriented,” the brunette explained. “But we experiment with different sounds, so I wouldn’t classify us specifically as a rock band. We just make music we like to make. The genre part is irrelevant.”

“Ash, the word smith,” Calum teased with a roll of his eyes as he moved across the room to pick up the bass he must have set aside when he answered the door. “Have a seat,” he directed at Brooke. “Get comfortable.”

She took a seat on a chair while the men went to various instruments. “2, 3, 4,” the brunette, Ash, counted from a drum kit. Brooke watched his thick thigh work to create a steady fast-paced beat, drumsticks twirling effortlessly before her eyes were glancing back over to Calum who had his eyes closed as he played the beat with Ash before the other two joined in with their the guitars and the blonde started singing.

Brooke watched, mesmerized, her jaw dropping when Calum started singing himself. She quickly closed it when he caught her and shot her a wink. She swayed in her seat, her feet tapping along to the beat as the roommates played their way through some songs she didn’t recognize so she assumed they were theirs, snapping the occasional picture.

~~~

“So, how do you know, Cal?” Ash was asking her an hour later as they both sipped on water. The instruments had been placed aside in favor of game controllers and when Ash made a mention of grabbing some drinks, she had realized how parched she had become.

“Oh, we have a class together.”

He nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter. “College girl meets college boy, huh? Same major?”

She chuckled softly, before shaking her head. “No, I’m a photography major. I think Cal’s English, isn’t he?”

He nodded. ��Yeah, Cal’s an English major. He always liked to read. But photography, eh? That explains you taking all those pictures.”

She shrugged. “I like seeing people for who they truly are. Are you guys in college, too?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I graduated last year. And those two barely made it out of high school. Cal and I were the only ones who could stick out school. Which is crazy cuz Luke’s mum’s a teacher.”

She chuckled more. “Mum… what are you, British?”

“Australian, darling. We all are. Cal didn’t tell you?”

She sputtered, choking on her water. “What?! No! No, he didn’t.”

He giggled and a dimple appeared in his cheek. “Yeah. Luke and Mike have dreams of being rockstars. And they’re our boys and it’s our band. So when we graduated high school, we all moved out here. But, Cal wanted a college education. And I had already completed a year myself at that point, so I joined him. And Luke and Mike… well, their talents lie elsewhere. They’ve gotten us a few demos made. We even have our own albums and perform at festivals. Just waiting for Cal to get done so we can make it big time.”

“Sounds to me like that won’t be that hard. You guys got some serious talent.”

“Yeah? You think?”

She nodded. “Yeah. So you’re a year older then?”

It was his turn to nod. “There abouts. I’m 23. Mike and Cal are 22. Then Luke’s the baby. He won’t be 22 until after my 24th birthday. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, I’m 22. I’m about two months older than Cal.”

“Nice. And you have a class together with Cal?”

She nodded. “Yeah. We had a class last year which is how we met. Honestly, I didn't think he noticed me at all. Then, this semester we ended up in another class together, and I guess I made more of an impression than I thought.”

He smiled down at her and she thought she’d drown in that hazel gaze. “Oh, you made the impression alright. Mate doesn’t shut up about you. Always going on about the girl in class with the snacks and snark.”

She laughed loudly, covering her mouth with her hand as she blushed. “Don’t know why he would. I’m really not much. Just a girl who doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.”

“Should see yourself from someone else’s point of view, darling. Cuz, you’re a bombshell, if I can be so bold as to say so.”

She sputtered again. “Oh yeah?”

He leaned down, his gaze heavy on her. “Oh, yeah.”

“Hey!” Calum’s voice snapped darkly and Ash and Brooke jumped apart, Ash giving his friend a sheepish grin, Brooke’s face bright red like she had got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “The fuck, Ash?”

Ash raised his hands in defense. “My bad. Line crossed. I’ll back off.”

“Yeah, back the fuck up. She’s got a boyfriend.”

“You’re dating?” Ash’s hazel eyes flashed in startled confusion.

Calum’s brown eyes rolled. “No. She’s got a boyfriend.”

Brooke fiddled with her fingers. “Um… actually…” she started, her voice small, both slightly frightened and turned on by Calum’s protective jealousy.

“You don’t have a boyfriend?” Calum’s voice asked, the fierceness replaced by a tone that sounded on the verge of breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I said… and you assumed… and I didn’t… Cal, we said…” Brooke’s hands started to flutter at her sides, her eyes welling up with tears. The girl who normally had more words than she knew what to do with was speechless.

“Whoa… hey,” his voice soothed and then he was pulling her into a hug. But instead of one arm, it was both, and she was about to crack from the soft intimacy. “C’mere,” he said before he was leading her down the hallway and into a bedroom. “Brooke, it astounds me how fucking blunt and honest we are with each other. Like the shit that comes out of your mouth blows me away sometimes. But you really couldn’t feel like you could tell me that you didn't have a boyfriend?”

“I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I… what Trevor and I have is hard to explain. It’s like we’re a couple without the label. And it’s always been confusing for me. And I didn’t want to try and explain that and get us both confused, so it was easier to let you think that he was my boyfriend. And then… well, we admitted what we admitted and… I dunno. I think it was easy for you to say those things when you thought nothing could come from it.”

“You think I said those filthy things to you just to say them?”

She shrugged and bit into her lower lip. “Maybe… Easy to flirt with someone when you can hide behind the fact that nothing will come of it…”

“Is that why you let me believe you had a boyfriend? So you could hide?”

She shook her head. “No! I just… look the relationship I had… have… I dunno… it’s not fully what I want. Yes, we’re friends. Yes, we have sex. But I want more than that. And he doesn’t. And that’s fine. But… I can’t do it with you, too. And I know it’s probably on me for being the proud tomboy who likes to be one of the guys. But I can’t keep being the girl who’s not good enough to be the girlfriend.”

“Jesus…” Calum breathed, running his hands through his curls.

“Don’t,” she said, standing up. “It’s fine. I’m the hopeless romantic living in a hookup culture world. Um, I’m gonna go now. But, I’ll see you Monday? Want teddy grahams or pretzels?”

“You’re doing that thing you said you would do,” he muttered.

“What thing?” she asked, forcing a smile.

“Where you said you would act cool and unbothered to not come off as clingy and desperate.”

“I said weird, not desperate…” she mumbled, staring down at her shoes. “See ya, Cal.”

“On your knees,” his voice barked at her as her back turned and her hand gripped the knob of the bedroom door.

“Excuse me?” she asked, turning back to face him, her face a mix of sad longing and confused anger.

He stalked over to her. “I said,” he spoke, his voice low and raspy as his fingers dug into her shoulders. “On. Your. Knees.”

She looked at him in full confusion but sank to her knees anyway. “Cal… What are you doing?”

“Making good on my word of what I would do to you if I ever got the chance,” he answered darkly. Then his face was inches from hers and it was full of soft concern. “That okay?”

She gulped and nodded. Then, as he went to straighten up, “Wait! Cal?”

“Yeah?” he asked, crouching back down.

“What happens after?”

“You said you’d make a great girlfriend, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“I’m willing to give that a try if you are.”

She nodded again. Then, “Cal?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Brooke. I’m a romantic, too. This is about making sure we both get what we want. And I want you.”

“I want you too, Cal.”

“Good,” he smiled before pressing a soft kiss to her lips that made her stomach do flips. “Now, open up that pretty mouth of yours,” he said, tracing his thumbs over her lips to part them as he straightened up once more. “And it’s ‘Daddy’ from here on out,” he added with a smirk before his fingers were undoing his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers.

“Yes, Sir,” she grinned saucily, her mouth watering at how big he was.

“There’s my brat,” he cooed in a manner that sent shivers down her spine. “Gonna fuck that attitude out of you real fast, sweetheart. You’ll learn.”

“Do your worst,” she taunted.

~~~

They were a breathless mess of tangled limbs and soft kisses in his bed. “Fuck, Ca- Da- Um…” she giggled while her cheeks flushed brick red. “Shit, I dunno what to call you now…”

His chest rumbled beneath her with his chuckle. “You can still call me, ‘Cal,’ sweetheart. ‘Daddy’ is just for bedroom activities. I’m not that kind of dom.”

She nodded. “Fuck, that was amazing.”

“Plenty more where that came from too, sweetheart. This is only the beginning.”

She sprawled across him to reach for her phone that was in her pants. “Can I?” she asked.

He nodded, pulling up the blankets to make them less exposed as she snapped some pictures. “You said you take pictures because you like seeing how people are when they’re fully themselves?”

“Yeah…”

“So what would those snapshots of you look like? If you were able to take candids of yourself.”

She thought for a minute then showed him the pictures she had just taken. “Probably a lot like this. You make me feel… well you make me feel a lot of things. One of which happens to be total relaxation. I feel like I can just be. No act. No bullshit. Just me.”

“Good, cuz I happen to like just you a whole fuckin lot.”

~~~

Tag List (Leave a message at the beep)

@goeatsomelife @flameraine @cashtonasff5sos @here-for-the-uproars @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @baldcalum @sparkling-chaos @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession

#snapshots and snapbacks #calum hood #calum hood fic #5sos #college!cal #galcal irwin

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440mxs-wife · 4 years

Text

Family Issues, Part 1

Pairing: Ketch x Reader

"Director of Operations, Director Wallace speaking," you answered. "Yes, I'll speak to him. Sheriff Dullard, is there some sort of problem? Because you should know that Agents Taggart, Rosewood and Foley are my top agents....I assigned them to this case because they are my best investigators," you explained. Once again, you were being asked to validate credentials for Sam, Dean and now Ketch, for some nosy, small-town sheriff.

"But...." the sheriff persisted.

"We don't want this kind of situation to get out of hand, now do we? Wouldn't want your little town to be known as 'the place where that thing happened' now would you? No, I didn't think you would, so let my agents do their work so they can wrap this up and leave town. Afterwards, your biggest worry will be some dumb kid climbing up the water tower, just so he can spray paint 'I heart Becky Sue' on it. I expect your full and complete cooperation with my agents, Sheriff Dullard. Is that clear?" you snapped.

"Yes, ma'am. I understand. Here you go, Agent Taggart," Sheriff Dullard said, handing Sam his phone back.

"We good?" Sam asked you.

"Yeah, Sam, you guys are good, he's handing over the files. You shouldn't have any more problems with Sheriff Dumbass," you muttered. "Stay safe, and watch out for each other, yeah? See you soon," you replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You hung up the phone, rolled your eyes and let out an exasperated groan. These small town authorities are so suspicious and territorial, you thought. Sam and Dean were following up on what looked like vampire activity in town and on the road to town. They were having trouble locating the nest, so a specialist was called in from another sector.

Arthur Ketch was currently working with Sam and Dean to help find and clear the nest. He still had access to some technology belonging to the former British Men of Letters, like tracking software and weapons. There was one particular weapon that dispensed rounds created specifically for fighting vampires. It used ceramic rounds that when they hit their victim and exploded, they released a dose of dead man's blood and paralyzed the vamp.

When Arthur Ketch was brought in for this mission, you tried to keep your focus on the task at hand. This was proving more and more difficult the more often he was brought in on cases and considering how you felt about him.

Ketch's handsome face with his blue-grey eyes and mischievous smile constantly invaded your dreams. You blushed at the mere thought of what it would be like to have his strong arms around you. You longed to run your fingers through his dark chestnut hair and hear your name fall from his lips in that sexy accent of his.

However, you also lived in the real world, where you were sure that the attraction was purely one-sided. You were fairly certain that he didn't give you a second thought. You told yourself that he probably thought of you as nothing more than a friend. Or worse, Sam and Dean's annoying little sister.

Ketch could have his pick of any woman in the world, all of them more beautiful and sophisticated than you would ever be. You convinced yourself that for these and many other reasons, he would never choose to be with you. So, you settled for his friendship and continued to push your feelings down and out of the way.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your phone rang again, but the Caller ID said "Restricted". You hesitated before picking up, but decided to answer using your Fed ID, in case it was the sheriff calling back. "Director of Operations, Director Wallace speaking," you answered.

Silence reigned on the other end, but you could hear someone breathing. "I know someone is there on the line. Who is this?" you demanded.

"I'll tell you who I am if you'll tell me who you really are. It's not nice to lie. I also know what you are, and you're not FBI," the voice taunted. With a click, the call ended.

You carefully placed your phone on the table with shaking hands and closed your eyes. Your mind was racing a mile a minute, so you tried to calm yourself down with deep breaths. You stood up from the table and slowly started walking around the room, your hand across your heart, trying to slow it down.

A whooshing of wings was heard, signaling Castiel's arrival. He met you in the library and concern flooded his blue eyes at seeing your distress. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Not exactly, Cas," you replied. You proceeded to tell him about the mysterious phone call you received after hanging up with Sam.

Cas pulled out his phone and started to dial. "We should tell Sam, Dean and Ketch. They'll want to come back right away if they think you're in danger," he stated. Your hand shot out to cover his phone and stop him from calling anyone. "No! Cas, please, it's really not that important, it was just a silly phone call. I don't want to bother the guys during a hunt for something like this," you implored. "It was probably a wrong number anyway," you suggested.

He looked a little skeptical with your assessment, but Cas finally relented and put his phone away. "All right, I won't call them. But please promise me that you will explain the situation to them when they get home?" he said sternly.

You nodded. "I promise, Cas. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, but I will discuss it with the boys when they get back," you replied. Cas nodded, then smiled and disappeared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of days later, you had been watching a movie, but fell asleep about halfway through. Your phone started buzzing from the side table where you'd left it. The Caller ID display again showed "Restricted", which kicked up your heart rate. "Hello?"

Near-total silence on the line again, except the sound of someone breathing. "Who is this and why do you keep calling me?" you demanded.

"You and I have unfinished business, an eye for an eye, you might say. Your luck is running out, then it'll be time to pay the piper," the voice taunted, then the line disconnected.

You closed your eyes and concentrated on taking deep breaths to relax yourself. The phone rang again and startled you, causing you to nearly drop it on the floor. Caller ID said it was Dean, which helped to calm you down a bit. "He-hey Dean," you answered shakily.

"Just checking in, to let you know--wait are you okay? You sound a bit upset," Dean observed.

A couple of tears streaked down your face and you sniffled in response. "Yeah, I'm okay, Dean," you rasped.

"Uh-uh, try again. What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing, Dean. I'm just not awake yet. I fell asleep watching a movie," you explained, hoping he would drop it.

"Look, we're almost home, then we're going to talk about whatever it is that's going on," he affirmed.

"Understand, Dean. See you when you get here. Over and out," you sighed.

In the car:

"What's up, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Dunno, Sammy. I think there's something bothering her, but for some reason, she doesn't want to talk about it," Dean answered.

"Perhaps there really is nothing going on, Dean," Ketch interjected from the back seat.

Dean caught Ketch's attention in the rearview mirror. "If you had heard her on the phone, you'd know something is up," he replied grimly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Ketch first met you, he thought you seemed a bit cautious and shy around him and you really didn't say much. As he got to know you, he found that you were an intelligent woman with strong hunting instincts. He thought you were kind, compassionate and had a great sense of humor. Definitely one of the best cooks he'd ever encountered.

Ketch smiled as he thought back to a previous mission where the two of you were partners. It was another vampire hunt, and you'd had to pose as a couple at an invitation-only party. He remembered how ravishing you looked in your sparkly midnight blue evening gown. He couldn't take his eyes off of you and how well your dress accentuated your curves. As he led you across the dance floor in a waltz, he marveled at how perfectly you fit into his arms.

The hunt had gone sideways, though, ending with you getting injured from a vampire bite and a concussion. Ketch completed the mission when he sliced the head off the vamp and his vamp sister, then rescued you from any further injury. The drive back to the bunker was terrifying for him, because he thought at one point he might have lost you. Fortunately, he made it back in time, and you got stitched up, with a full recovery from your injuries. It was after this hunt that he started to examine his feelings for you, and discovered they were a little more than friendly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Around 11:00p.m., you heard the roar of Baby's engine as she eased into her regular parking space in the bunker garage. You rose up from the couch to greet Sam, Dean and Ketch at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

Dean was first down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he pulled you into a hug. "Hiya, sweetheart," he murmured into your ear and gave you an extra squeeze before releasing you.

"Hey, Dean. You guys all okay? Anything I need to patch up?" you asked.

"Nope, we're all good," Sam replied as he dropped his bag. You stepped into his arms for a brief but comforting hug. After releasing you, he picked up his duffel bag and headed for his room.

Ketch was the last man down the stairs, and with each step his concern for you grew. He could see how exhausted you were, and how the light in your eyes seemed to have dimmed a little. "Lovely to see you again, my dear. How have you been?" he asked.

You gave him a quick smile, but it didn't seem to reach your eyes, causing Ketch to frown a bit. Whatever the source of your distress, Ketch hoped it wasn't too serious. He disliked seeing any pain or sadness in your beautiful hazel eyes.

You cleared your throat to keep from bursting into tears. "Shall we sit over here and wait for Sam and Dean?" you inquired.

Ketch joined you on the couch, but didn't sit too close to you. He didn't want to risk that you would close yourself off from him before revealing what was bothering you. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked.

"Can we please wait for Sam and Dean? I'd rather just say it once, if that's all right," you replied shakily.

"Of course, Love. Whatever helps you feel better," Ketch answered.

At that moment, Sam and Dean both entered the living room and each settled into a chair. "All right, so, what's been going on? 'Cause I know you're upset about something," Dean remarked.

You told them about the first mysterious phone call you received after you verified their credentials for Sheriff Dumbass. You explained that there was something slightly familiar to you about the voice, but the call wasn't long enough to be sure. "Cas happened to pop in just after the phone call--"

"Wait a minute. Cas was here? Why in the hell didn't he say something to us after it happened?!?" Dean thundered.

"Because I begged him not to, Dean," you shot back. "I thought it was just a crank call, a one-time thing. I didn't think it was important enough to disrupt the mission for it," you finished.

"Then why were you so upset when I called?" Dean asked.

"When you called, it had just happened again. At that point, I was sufficiently spooked, but you said you were almost home. After the first call, I promised Cas that I would talk to you about it when you got here. It was the only way I talked him out of calling you," you explained.

"You said there was something slightly familiar about the voice," Sam cut in. "Who do you think it was?"

You thought for a moment then shook your head. "Nah, it couldn't be....," you replied. The three men looked at you, expecting you to share your thoughts. "I was thinking that it sounded a lot like Martin, my sister's fiancé. My sister, Angela, has been dead for years, but he couldn't possibly...." you trailed off.

"There was a crossroads deal, one I begged her not to make. Martin was in a horrible car accident, ended up in a coma and wasn't expected to survive. Angela was out of her mind at the thought of losing him, and I knew she wasn't above doing something drastic.

"For the first few days, I never let her out of my sight. Then one night, I was sitting up with her in Martin's room, hoping against hope that he would wake up. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because she was able to sneak past me and find a crossroads demon. Martin woke up from his coma about the time she was walking back into his room and I knew. I just knew what she had done.

"With us being hunters, she only got five years before the hellhounds came for her. After it was over, Martin and I lost track of each other, even though I tried to keep in touch with him. But whenever I called, our conversations would always end with him blaming me for her being gone. He said I should've found a way to get Angela out of the deal that took her away from him. At one point, he even said that I should have traded places with her," you finished quietly.

Tears began streaming down your cheeks again as you abruptly got up from the couch. You walked into the library with your arms hugging your sides. All three men looked at each other, with Ketch finally coming to stand behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and gently turned you around to face him.

"He's right," you whispered, turning your gaze on Ketch's face. "About everything, Martin was right. I should've found a way. Angela was my SISTER for Chuck's sake! I didn't do everything I could have done to stop her. She was my responsibility. And she's gone," you sobbed. Ketch brushed your tears away and wrapped his arms around you. He whispered soothing words in your ear as his hand rubbed up and down your back.

Sam walked over to where you and Ketch were standing. "It's not your fault, you know. There wouldn't have been any way to break the deal, not without you making one yourself," Sam responded.

"Sammy's right. Not only that, but she chose to sneak out of the room to make that deal. I doubt you would've changed her mind anyway, sweetheart," Dean remarked, joining the group. "Usually when someone's blinded by grief, they aren't always thinkin' clearly."

"Martin was also being incredibly unfair, darling," Ketch stated. "Don't forget, that while he may have lost his fiancée, you lost your sister. I can't even begin to imagine how that must have hurt," he added.

You thought about what each of your friends said, and decided that it made a good amount of sense. "Thank you, fellas. I appreciate what you're saying," you replied with a yawn. "I think I'm going to head to my room now, getting a little sleepy," you said with a weary smile.

Sam and Dean each gave you a quick kiss on the top of your head with their goodnight wishes. Ketch stayed behind a bit, gazing directly in your soft hazel eyes. "May I walk you to your door?" he suggested.

"Thank you, Arthur," you said. As you slipped out of his arms, he caught hold of your hand and interlaced his fingers with yours. A blush crept across your face, which did not escape Ketch's notice. Once you reached your door, you and Ketch stood facing each other. "Well, I suppose this is goodnight. Thank you again, Arthur," you said softly, just before placing a lingering kiss on his cheek.

"Goodnight, darling, see you in the morning. Can't wait to taste some of your delicious pancakes for breakfast. If you're up for it," he hastily added.

You grinned and squeezed his hand a little. "Pancakes it is," you winked and entered your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

PART TWO up next!

#arthur ketch #ketch x reader #spn imagines #spn fluff

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border-spam · 5 years

Text

Troy Calypso’s very nice good time

Accidentally wrote a 6.5k comfort fic with actual nice sibling moment mentions because that’s what they deserved.

( Thank you so much @lazulizard and @artisthicc-nikyri for the feedback and motivation on the initial draft that was 2k that pushed it into this nonsense )

The pile of furs and blankets on the huge bed shifted slowly, messy black hair beginning to peak out from underneath, complete silence of the inky Pandoran night broken by a stuttering yawn as the God King shifted his head out from under the covers enough to nuzzle his face into a pillow.

“Mmmm… You’re a damn genius Troy-boy..”, he muffled sleepily as he breathed into it. The heavy fur blankets were still pulled mostly over his head, and the plush down cushions he usually slept with were comfortably pressed along his bare body under the warm weight. Bliss.

Spending the bit of extra time before going to sleep to fully remove his bracer?

Worth every second of effort.

It was still pitch black out and the middle of the night, but that was fine. He loved the deep night on Pandora, and that was the best few hours sleep he’d had in months. Tyreen should go off world without him more often… He made a mental note to off handedly congratulate her on a job well done when she got back from this merger trip, maybe he could have few more of these in the future.

Reaching up to gently scratch at the uncovered neuro-port at the base of his skull, he inhaled deeply into the cushy warmth of the pillow, enjoying how loose his normally stiff joints felt, feeling a grin creep across his face.

Fresh laundered sheets. He loved that smell, and it was alllll his tonight, unlike the times there would be that nasty lingering odor of whatever faceless COV fanatic he’d slaked his baser urges with beforehand, all sour and grimy.

His ship, Sanctum, was fully tailored to his tastes and needs, and the custom made bed had been a galaxy-brain move he congratulated himself on. Big enough that he could sleep comfortably without having to curl up to fit his massive 6"7 height onto the mattress like he had always had to do with regular beds, and being able to stretch out lengthwise like this? That was the kind of luxurious shit a God deserved, even if the God in question currently had an atrocious case of bed hair and yesterday’s eyeliner smudged down his cheeks.

No Ty meant no live appearances today. No live appearances meant being able to queue today’s Let’s Flays and Sermon uploads last night, automate his outgoing reports and mark himself on “Holy Respite” on the clergy’s internal echo network.

There would be no high priests organising meetings with him, no sacrifices or tithes to attend, no data to compile or reports to work on, it was all taken care of already. The only light in the room was the slow red pulse his arm’s custom built charging dock integrated in the wall opposite the bed gave off, and he let his eyes adjust to it, enjoying the complete quiet of the Pandoran night bar the gentle whirs and thunks of his homemade fleet of service junkbots running their chores outside his bedroom door.

Just him, his pajamas, gross food, and whatever the hell he wanted to do today. Or this morning. Or.. night? Whatever. Didn’t matter.

He turned onto his back and stretched languidly, pushing the furs down his torso and savoring how free his bare right side felt without the grounding weight of the bracer. A pleasant shiver crept up his spine as he ran his palm down the goosebumped skin of his lower ribs and stomach before letting it rest on the jut of his left hip, smiling to himself as he puffed a breath into the thick black hair that had fallen over his eyes.

It was gonna be awesome.

Shimmying his legs to the side of the bed, he swung them over the edge, then slowly sat up, yawning so wide he felt both cheek clips click as the face mods they held together strained to split open, letting his eyes adjust to the additional slight glow of light the red markings running down his left thigh and calf added. The ship’s auto temperature system kept the dark comfort of his bedroom cool during the night the way he liked, but you got cold quick in it. Judging the distance between where he sat and the doorway in the opposite corner of the quarters that led into the washroom, he rubbed at his eyes and lifted the top fur covering of the bed over his back and head like a shroud, wrapping it around his naked body as he stood up out of the warm blankets.

As soon as he rose, the room sensors automatically lit the paper lantern lights that crisscrossed the low ceiling on long trailing ropes, keeping them dimmed to fill the shadowy darkness of the room with pools of cosy multicoloured light.

He was gross right now. No wash before bed last night, no -time- for one considering all the work he’d stayed up doing to make sure today would be prepared for, and his hair was a state. Still full of styling products and pointing haphazardly in every direction, he tried to run a hand through it and felt his fingers catch in the waxy mess.

“..Bleh…” he groaned, rolling his tongue out to emphasise how nasty this was. “OK.. seriously, fucking shower time you nasty little shit, heh.”

Stumbling over to the black felted wall facing the bed, he tapped a hand to the panel that extended his inbuilt dresser from the recess it was hidden within, rooting inside it for some chillout clothes as one of his personal playlists began to play over the ship’s audio system.

How long had he had these things now he wondered, picking up a long dark pair of sweats and matching tank, poking a finger through a hole near one of the ankles as he slowly waddled towards the washroom. Years probably. One of the first things they had done once they had started making donation income on Pandora was buy clothing and get out of their ancient patched up hand-me-downs, like shedding the skin of your former self and emerging a new being… and he tended to hang on to stuff he found comfortable. Not a crime, right? I mean sure he could replace them, he could afford to replace anything, but you couldn’t buy that feeling of well worn, broken in comfort clothing. You had to earn that.

The whole “Trash-punk Deity” aesthetic he’d designed for himself and Tyreen was based around looking effortlessly sexy in its thrown together accidental style, but it was fucking hard work in reality. That shit was uncomfortable most of the time, so wiggling out of 20 belts and piles of chains and into the comfort of indoor clothes like these had almost become a cathartic ritual once he closed the door to the rest of the world behind him and entered his ship quarters.

He let the fur slip to the ground as he rounded the doorway’s corner and stepped into the washroom, feeling a shiver shoot up his back as his feet touched the cool floor. It was exactly how he had requested when detailing the ship, dark and moodlit like the majority of Sanctum’s décor, tiled from top to bottom in deep grey slate with wall integrated storage and commodities, recessed night lighting set to a gentle soft glow skirting around the inner edges of the ceiling, open shower wall set to match his height, and a floor length mirror surrounded by panels that stored his cosmetics and toiletries.

Dropping the balled up clothing to the floor near the mirror, he leaned forward to reach and switch the wall mounted faucet on, and turned towards the mirror as he waited for the high pressured blast of water that roared forth to begin to heat.

Stepping onto the scale panel on the floor in front of the mirror, he blew a deep breath out and stared at his reflection, looking anywhere but the numbers flickering under his feet, taking in his naked form. All long, lean lines of rich brown skin and dark tattoo work, decorated by the Siren markings that ran like filligree up his left leg and arm, ending where they emerged from the mess of his pitch black hair and curled around his left eye.

He looked ok… didn’t he? His ribs were still clear, shifting under thin skin, but there was some meat on his chest and the faintest hint of defined vascularity across his shoulder and bicep now, and that was a good thing, right?

He didn’t look like he had lost any since last time, he mulled, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he pinched the taut skin of his lower stomach between his thumb and fingers, measuring the thickness. He felt ok, he hadn’t been too tired recently, he hadn’t waited longer than he should have between top ups from Tyreen and made sure to eat on schedule, even if he had lost a little it would be fine anyway, right? He always bounced back even if it took a little while, and he’d been feeling ok recently. He’d been ok..

He closed his eyes and shrugged the tension out of his shoulder, inhaling and exhaling deeply before looking down at the scale readout.

“Oh..”

“No wait, whoah!”

2 pounds up from his last goal point? This was the heaviest he had ever been in his life! He gasped out a shocked laugh, looking back up at his reflection in the mirror and grinning as he failed to swipe his rat-nest of waxed hair back into something remotely respectable, blushing furiously under the streaks of black smeared down his cheeks.

“Holy shit, good job man, look at you! All buff n’ shit.” He boasted, puffing out his narrow chest and aiming a toothy grin at himself through the steam now filling the room.

“You only half look like a teenage girl who got dumped last night, fuckin su-perb.”

Barking out a genuine laugh, he turned and stepped into the blast of piping hot water, squinting his eyes shut as it cascaded down his face and over his torso. He’d have to tell Ty as soon as she got back about the weight gain. She’d totally call him a fatass, she was gonna be so happy too.

Shit like this was exactly what made it all worth it, he thought, watching the water swirl down the drain near his feet with a dreamy smile.

Hot water, any time you wanted, not having to bath in tepid river water because “heating it wastes energy, and ya don’t need it do ya kid, this is fine”. Clothes that weren’t threadbare and sewn from rags that constantly felt grimy because the only soap you had was that awful smelling shit Grouse used to make from animal fat. Food whenever you needed it, never being hungry or too sick and tired to be able to forage. All things you had to have not had once, to fully appreciate having whenever you wanted now. He appreciated everything, he thought. Eyes closed and face directly under the water. He didn’t have anyone to tell, but he appreciated everything.

Opening his mouth and gargling the hot water, he laughed as it spurted out over his chest, then wiped it out of his eyes with his forearm and began to scrub at his scalp with a shampoo bar from the small toiletry storage panel he’d slid open next to the wall mounted faucet. Feeling the caked in styling wax begin to give way felt so good. No need to put more of that shit in today and spend an hour styling his hair, or sit and work on a smokey eye, or make any effort at all with his appearance. He could just be a slob. A clean slob who was gonna go eat his weight in junk food after he finished scrubbing the rest of his body with the soapy suds rolling down his shoulders.

Raising his face into the stream for the last time and letting it finish rinsing him off, he enjoyed one more pleasant shiver under the incredible heat, then turned off the faucet and reached for the body sized towel hanging on a wall hook within arms distance, carefully dabbing it over the sensitive puckered scar and thin skin along his right shoulder and ribs, before vigorously drying his body and hair after.

Tossing the towel into the corner (the bots would sort it out later when they changed his bedding and tidied the room), he hopped one leg at a time onto the soft sweatpants and left them low hung over his jutting hips, pulling the drawstring taut. Walking in bare feet towards the doorway, he tossed the tank over his head and maneuvered his arm in, then flipped his jet black wet hair backwards and over the nape of his neck as he rounded the bathroom entrance and padded across the bedroom’s plush carpeting towards the mag-locked door that led into the ship’s main living chamber.

He could still hear the quiet whirring and beeps of his little “projects” through it even over the ship’s music stream, and felt his eyes crinkle at the edges as he smirked in anticipation, eager to see how they were faring with their custom programed household tasks as he raised his palm to the wall mounted reader and the door began to slide open.

Taking in the organised chaos it revealed, he leaned his lithe frame against the doorway, crossing his legs as he rubbed absentmindedly at his empty shoulder joint, smirk splitting into a wide grin.

“Heyyyy boys, how’s it going this fine night, huh? Miss me?”

A half dozen clunky, pieced together droids of various sizes stopped their assigned tasks and swizzled on junky wheels and mismatched clobbered together legs to beep and screech at him in welcome. Grating chorus quietening down as they returned one by one to their cleaning and maintenance chores, while he walked down the couple of steps that led out of his bed chambers and into the eclectic nonsense that was his home.

Pausing for a moment to let a tiny rat-sized box droid covered in charging ports that wobbled past his feet on rickety wheels, he turned into the small open kitchen on his right. Like the other included luxury ship components, he’d not changed it at all since Sanctum was finished 4 years ago, a fully integrated chrome and glossy black iron kitchenette fitted for his height, underlighting glowing softly around the curved shapes of the wall mounted sleeper cabinets above. All he’d done was… accessorised it a bit with extra features.

The left wall was covered in a grid of hanging potted herbs the droids took care of, having them on hand had proven extremely useful in the last few years. Something you could brew or smoke for joint pain relief was pretty useful for someone in his physical condition, and anything that helped him sleep and wasn’t the cocktail of chemicals he usually had to rely on was welcome. Great shit for seasoning food too, not that he’d brag.

The kitchen itself would be sleek as hell if he hadn’t Troy’d it to shit as Ty would say, but hey, what did she know. The scraps of paper print outs of their first big follower count milestones stuck to the front of the smooth black refrigerator door? That was part of the aesthetic. That homemade automated coffee machine made of of scrap metal and visible wiring? That absolutely fit in with the black glass stovetop it sat next to, she just had no eye for style.

Why would be go buy one anyway, he mused as he poured some of the fresh brew that had been triggered when he got out of bed into the chipped mug printed with a faded “Best Bro” he kept on top of the coffee machine, this one worked fine. The shocks you sometimes got when grabbing the pot? That was a feature!

Ty just didn’t get it, he reasoned to himself, nodding sagely as he sipped the smokey black coffee from the mug, eyes closed, savoring the taste. This worked fine, no reason to junk it just because it wasn’t as she would put it, “classy” or “functional” or “safe to be around without risk of explosion”.

Turning and resting his lower back against the edge of the counter top, he slowly looked around the rest of the living quarters as he continued to sip at the drink.

Sanctum had been fully internally tailored to his tastes and needs straight off the factory conveyors. Twinned to Tyreen’s personal ship and only a digit apart in their serials, it was a luxury cruise vessel with jump capabilities and an array of offensive and defensive addons. Money hadn’t been a factor, even years ago when they had originally commissioned their ships, the twins had infinite funding and nothing had been out of the question. Their personal Sanctums were large enough to give them their own private living spaces, while still small enough to be able to dock together on either side of most of their larger basilica’s cloisters. That configuration allowed them to share the cloister’s internal quarters, while still having the option to return to their ships when needed. Loving his twin didn’t mean he could avoid wanting to wring her bratty little neck 3 times a day, so this arrangement had been a life saver… probably quite literally at this point.

While both ships had the exact same internal layout, the twins had customised their own over time to the point where it would be hard to notice the ships matched perfectly originally.

Troy’s decorative tastes were.. jumbled, he’d guess would be a fair description. Life on Nekro had been relentlessly uncomfortable. Nothing was soft, everything was hard, rough. Sleeping on anything there chafed your skin or bruised delicate ribs. It made sense in a way now that he loved comfort so much. If he spotted a really nice piece of textile in a returning war party’s haul, looted antique wall tapestries or lush woven rugs, they had a habit of vanishing from the offerings and -somehow- ending up on this ship. Almost every inch of floor was covered in overlapping thick rugs, some of which he was pretty sure were probably treasures of some lost civilisation, but hey, they were nice on the feet.

Patterend textiles in various colours hung in sheets across the ceiling, giving the illusion of the ship being some kind of huge tent structure, sometimes with the odd resting bot perched in a hanging loop.

He tended to pick shit up too, much to Tyreen’s constant disgust. Pandora just had some really cool skulls laying around, was it really such a big deal to want to hang them around above doorways? Alpha skag skulls were so his vibe! Why waste ‘em by leaving them out in the desert. Same could be said for all his “project” droids. Tyreen gave him the stink eye every time he found a new busted piece of junk he was sure he could fix up, so he’d been sneaking them home for years now. If they were too far gone, no problem, meant spare parts he could use for the others later.

Most of the wall space that wasn’t hanging textile was covered in shelving he’d tacked up across the ship, and he loved to hoard nostalgia. The wall shelves around the living quarters were covered in things he attributed memories to, like plants from different planets they’d sat through hours of boring merger meetings on with the usual designer suit-clad pissants who looked down their noses at the twins while simultaneously trying to kiss their asses, crystal rocks he’d found on the long cross Pandoran trips required for attending various COV districts and bestowing their holy grace upon the rabid swarms of their followers, photos of him and Ty on their very first visits to different regions, all of which were so old now he noted, shrugging off the quick pang of sadness that shot through his throat. Spaces between the shelves were filled with sketches of things he had no captures of, like landscapes they remembered from Nekrotafeyo, Mom, or Eridian architecture he still glanced at times in dreams of a childhood long gone.

Finishing off the coffee, he took in a deep breath through his nose, pressed the mug against his stomach, and leaned his head back against a wall mounted cabinet behind him, letting his eyes flutter shut. The ship smelled of everything that always relaxed him, fresh oil from the workroom on the other side of the herb wall where he focused on his tech projects like his arm rig, bots, and more stupid shit to put around the ship and annoy Tyreen with. Remnants of spray paint fumes from the art station in the corner across from his kitchen where he worked on propaganda wall art pieces on huge canvases, splashes of colour smeared across the walls and floor surrounding it, and the homemade sheet metal shelving next to it that stored his cans and supplies. The warm spicy scent of the herbs currently being watered awkwardly by a Hyperion vacuum droid teetering on shaking, mismatched legs he’d made it when he couldn’t find the right parts to fix its internal rotor, it all merged together into a scent completely unique to where he lived. His home.

Opening his eyes again, he glanced down at the mug and absently ran his thumb along the slightly raised Best Bro print on the side, Tyreen had got him this as a joke on their birthday at least 6 years ago now, and he’d managed to keep it intact since. Without her knowing of course, that would be embarrassing, she’d never let him live it down.

He wondered how she was faring, and lifted his head to take in the huge curved window facing out the front of the ship, the Pandoran night skyline twinkling through it. The ship’s small cockpit and pilot seat was suspended above the recessed recreation area that faced the glass, railless spiraling steel stairs leading to it from just behind the semi circular couch that curved around the piles of blankets and cushions that covered the rec area’s floor. He should check up on her, just to be sure, just to know she was ok. Had to earn that title of Best Bro afterall.

Carefully returning the mug to the top of the coffee machine, he started to slowly walk towards the window, stopping to curl his toes in a particularly plush rug’s pile and consider his sister. Twins, despite total bullshit others had told him his whole life, were -not- psychic. He had no “magical link” to Tyreen’s mind, no super mystical sense that would kick in if something was very wrong, so when they were apart there was always the slight fear in either’s belly. Was he unwell? Was she in danger? Was he hurt? Was she upset? There wasn’t a secret twin power that allowed them to know, even though everyone else seemed to think there was. So, they had come up with more functional ways to reassure each other, and as he resumed walking towards the rec area, he reminded himself he could use one of those systems right now.

Dropping a hand to the edge of the recessed couch, he vaulted over the edge and onto the seat cushions, immediately jolting up straight backed with a wince as he landed on a sharp crumpled up beer can lodged in the recess of one.

“Oh COME ON guys!” He yelled over his shoulder in the vague direction of where he could hear the bots still working behind him, leaning to the side as he rubbed his ass.

“Hhhhhf.. ow. Mannn.. you have to pay more attention on cleanup duty, fuck, that could have cut.”

Pulling the can out from underneath him, he tossed it backwards over his head and into the waiting little clamp hands of his earlier version of C.H.A.7, janky old H.8.N.K. Watching it sputter away on a shaky thruster and float towards the work room behind him to recyc the can brought a flicker of warmth to his chest.

H.8.N.K was nearly 7 years old now, one of the first bots he’d made himself, and still had its uses, even if a bit slow nowadays. That reminded him actually, he’d need to do a bit of work on the prosthetic tonight.

Turning back to face the window, he lifted his arm and gently pressed fingers into the recess of his missing shoulder, hitching in a quick sharp breath as he brushed across a pain point, eyes unfocused and trained on the floor in front of him.

That piston in the bicep’s inner side had been too tight for a while now and had been causing the weight to sit incorrectly, putting extra strain through his bracer and onto the shoulder edge.

Leaning forward slowly, he continued to press into the pain, now dry hair falling past his shoulders and brushing along the right side of his face. The tightness around his eyes loosened as he breathed out, carefully rubbing across the spot in a circle with his thumb, pain beginning to ebb away. He had all of tonight and today, he could get that fixed up fast, nice bit of tinkering to look forward to later!

Now to check on Tyreen, the window control tablet was right next to him but he heeded his.. where were they?

Leaning back into the plush couch pillow behind him, he rooted his hand around in the recesses of the seat cushions, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth in concentration as he swapped his hand from the recess on the right side to the left.

“Where.. are.. those fuckin.. Ah!”

Pulling out his prize, he flicked his wrist forward to open the square glasses’s arms, then fitted them over his ears carefully, straightening the frames on his nose. Not going to get a headache from looking at the screen without these tonight of all nights, not when he had so much relaxing to look forward to.

Reaching down to the control tablet next to his left thigh, he muttered under his breath while tapping command panels that popped into life on the tablet display.

“Okayyy.. showtime.”

The massive curved window he was facing flicked from the inky black view of the Pandoran night outside, to a solidly opaque monitor view of cascading analytical data. A live feed of current viewer numbers on streams, finance reports organised into a sidebar overlay, and on the bottom right next to rows of app thumbnails, a small portrait icon of Tyreen.

Tapping the tablet rapidly to move the selection across to her icon, he smiled at the picture. No makeup, back when her hair was still deep brown and before she started bleaching it her iconic white on top, tongue out and giving the camera the peace sign. He remembered taking that, it had been her reaction to being called a little bitch after she’d asked him for a hand with setting up their stream gear. That same fucking joke she made at least once a week and that had never at any point been remotely funny.

“Bet you aren’t laughing now Ty-die, stuck in a merger meeting with a a shower of assholes while I enjoy myself, hehhhhh”

His momentary gloat was interrupted by the Hyperion Vacuum droid tapping his left knee with its front panel, drawing his immediate attention to the 6 pack of Bandit Brew balanced on its flat top, spindly little scrap legs shaking under the weight.

“Oh! BRO!” he barked out with a laugh, leaning quickly to scoop the cans against his chest with his arm and relieve it of the weight.

“Awww haha, thanks pal. Great timing!”

It made a distorted chirp in response and turned to waddle away, while he dropped the cans to the couch by his side. Tapping the tablet once more and waiting for the app to open on screen, he placed a can between his knees and then popped the tab with his thumb and forefinger, jumping slightly when it sprayed pressurised foam over his hand and arm.

Bot must have shaken these up a bit while bringing them over, not that he’d berate it he thought, eyes still on the main screen while he licked the foam off his forearm and fingers.

Not its fault he’d only been able to retrofit legs for it instead of a new rotor.

Wrinkling his nose at the awful taste of the beer, he started reading through the display Ty’s app was now showing on screen, lifing the can from between his legs to chug it in the hopes of not having to let his tongue touch it too long.

Heartrate calm, vitals all fine, no chem spikes, safe and sound off at her merger. Not asleep, so his guess was right, probably bored shitless in a meeting right now. Great, can scratch that little itch from his mind now and focus on him, Best Bro responsibilities met.

Reaching down and dropping the empty can near his feet, he grabbed a couple of the blankets strewn across the floor within reach and pulled them up and to his side, then reached for another brew and popped it open between his knees again.

This shit was vile. Awful stuff, like piss and vinegar, but they had an unlimited supply of it and it got you wasted fast. Some licensing deal he’d organised a couple of years ago, and a pretty decent one he figured considering how successful the sales were, raising the can to give a cheers to the massive split-jawed Skag skull that sat above the window monitor before chugging it and dropping the can next to the first by his feet.

Ok, right, so what was he going to watch.

Tapping the tablet again to cancel out of Ty’s app, he selected the the media streaming icon from the app list and started scrolling through what was up.

Man, there were at least 5 series he was behind on right now that had had updates, and the lengths he’d gone to to avoid spoilers were a joke. Know how hard it is to not see any when your entire existence was based around being on the echonet 24/7? There were followers who had been executed over not correctly spoiler warning before posting on public social media.

Clicking through the updates, he started to queue some into today’s playlist. “Ancient secrets of Eridian science” nice. “Murder he yote” real life serial murderer documentary slash comedy? Perfect.

He paused on the icon for that terrible romcom Ty liked, 2 new episodes unwatched. Glancing down, he clicked the option to bookmark it on the tablet for her. He hated romcom’s, found them intensely cringe, but Tyreen.. well. She had her reasons for enjoying them so much, he knew. He never complained if she wanted to watch one with him. He got it. He got why. He was probably the only person she knew who did.

Just two cans into this crap and he was starting to feel it, he puffed a deep breath out as he leaned back and pressed his hand into the solid line of his lower belly. Time to actually eat something, or his stomach was going to start kicking his ass if he kept drinking. Turning his head to the side, he yelled back in the direction of the kitchen while still watching the monitor and the show descriptions he was scrolling through.

“Yo, guys, any of you, can you reheat that pizza in the fridge from the other night?”

Concerned beeping came in response.

“Nah, n-no it’s fiiiiiine, it’s only a couple days old, just reheat it!”

A single long, resigned beep in reply.

Great. Food on the way he thought, smirking and turning to face the screen again. Time to check the Echonet fan uploads while he waited, tabbing out of the stream app and into the Echonet, quickly searching for anything tagged COV. This stuff was always hilarious.

The very first result broke him into a snorting laugh, a vid titled CALYPSO LOVELIFE UPDATE: NOT SINGLE??, the thumbnail a terrible edit of Ty’s face looking shocked, surrounding by crying bandits. He hovered his finger over the bookmark option again, then thought better of it when he felt a slight pang of remorse for laughing. That would actually just upset her, he realised, making a mental note to run a takedown request on it soon as he was finished with the shows.

It didn’t count as work if it was to make sure Ty didn’t see something that would hurt her, even if she would be furious with him for assuming (correctly) it would, so he’d get it done tonight.

The squeaks of nearby wheels broke the negative mood, and he turned so his left with excitement as good old Janky clunked awkwardly into view, pizza box held in front of it haphazardly on its single kitbashed spindly arm.

“I got it, hold on!” He laughed, reaching to take the box from the droid as it angrily grumbled at him in crackling honks, single red lens eye set into it’s sleek black box body flashing in irritation as the mismatched wheels he’d found for it snagged on the rug underneath.

Rustling in the box on his lap, he pulled out a slice of pizza, some kind of spicy sausage thing, covered in mixed herbs and slices of vegetables he didn’t know the name of. Tasted great, but he wasn’t too sure he wanted to find out what that meat actually was, he decided, shoving the whole slice into his mouth and wiping the grease from his fingers onto his pant legs before realising the angry Vladov bot was still stuck on the rug.

“Hold on, heh, c'mon Jank, it’s not that bad!” Troy reassured as he leaned forward to press a palm against the smooth front of its box body and push it past the snag its front wheel was spinning on, irritated beeping and honking growing louder.

“Ah man, look I’m sorry about the wheels, but at least you can move! Not perfect I know but excuuuuuse me for not having replacement leg parts specifically for a.. freaking… junked ”Prototype Vladov steward-bot “ in stock.” he gestured towards the grumbling bot’s welded on chassis and tripod wheels with the second pizza slice he’d just grabbed.

“I know this ain’t like, what you were made for but fuck it dude, you work right?”. The bot let out a conceding soft honk as it pivoted in place, then trundled away awkwardly on the mismatched set of wheels.

Troy twisted to face the screen again, reaching for the 3rd can of piss-ale and slamming it between his knees with more force than was needed, angrily snapping the tab open as he muttered under his breath.

“.. Fucking ungrateful really. Wish someone had cared half as much about trying to fix me.”

He wasn’t enjoying the gut feeling that interaction had left him with, unpleasant memories stirring in the back of his head as he slowly slid down the back of the couch, legs stretching further out across the floor as he finished the third can and dropped it with the others.

Screw it.

More beer, plenty of pizza to shovel into his face, and trash to watch. Speaking of which…

Tapping the control tablet again, the screen flicked into the start of the latest episode of some semi fictional biographical series on Handsome Jack. It could be completely factual honestly, some of the shit Jack supposedly got up to sounded like it had been written by a complete moron, but had actual real life witnesses to attest. What had happened in the last episode, something about killing a guy with a spoon? He should take notes honestly, Troy thought with a smirk, shaking the lingering feelings of self pity out of his head.

He was slouched low enough for his chin to touch his chest now, alternating between pushing whole slices of pizza into his mouth and sipping on the 4th can of swill he’d just opened, hair having fallen mostly over the right side of his face as he slowly sank down, and too comfortable now to bother fixing it.

The ridiculously over the top actor playing Jack was currently loading a group of.. scientists? Into an airlock while monologuing about the dangers of trusting others in a corporate setting. Bit out of Troy’s lane, but the campy energy the actor was throwing into the scene was enough to keep him snorting out laughter between swallows of pizza.

Rummaging his hand around the box far down his lap for the last slice, he absentmindedly clicked apart his face mods, letting the split maw fall open as he lathed the elongated prehensile tongue out across the bare skin of his chest to mop up the crumbs it was covered in, retracting it and resetting his jaw without even moving his eyes from the screen as his fingers hit the last slice and dragged it out of the box and into his mouth. Complete normalcy, well, for Troy.

It was starting to catch up with him now, he realised as each blink felt like it was starting to take longer and longer. He’d only had a few hours of sleep and the comfortable weight of food and beer in his belly was making it hard to keep his focus on the show. He could just shut them for a bit, this scene was fucking boring now anyway, Jack sure did seem to really get off on talking shit about himself for far too long..

He didn’t open them again, breathing evening out as his head tilted to the side and knees leaned together, glasses slipping off his nose as the show continuing to play on the monitor. Jack singlehandedly massacred his way through camps of filthy bandits while Troy dozed.

The tiny squeaks of Jank’s wheels didn’t wake him as it carefully removed the pizza box from his lap and pulled one of the blankets by his side over his lap, then muted the monitor as it trundled away as quietly as possible.

Let him sleep. He can wake up when he’s ready, the whole day is his.

#troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #my hcs #My hcs #My writing

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veliseraptor · 4 years

Note

Top 5 Nat moments

because I apparently hate myself I’m going to do what I did for Wanda and Loki when I did this and go with both comics and MCU moments.

COMICS

1. When she meets Laura Kinney and offers to train her (X-23 #20). I will never, ever not be bitter about the fact that we didn’t get Marjorie Liu’s series with the all female team (Black Widow, X-23, Mystique, and Electra), because augh. Could’ve had it all. But anyway, these panels:

This is Natasha, who has a history of being exploited and controlled by others, reaching out to a young woman who is coming out of her own history of (even more) exploitation and control, who is figuring out who she is and that she’s a person and not just a weapon for other people. It’s Natasha offering mentorship to her. And there’s something just…very powerful about that - about a character who often works on her own, and is certainly perceived as a loner, reaching out to another character and offering her guidance.

This is also in the context of her stepping in as part of breaking up a sex trafficking operation, which ties into another aspect of Natasha’s characterization in comics that I’ll get into later.

2. The whole interrogation in a fridge scene (Black Widow #4). I mean, the entirety of Name of the Rose (again, Marjorie Liu, she’s amazing) is a favorite moment, but this particular section will always stand out to me.

There’s a great essay about it over at @fuckyeahblackwidow, talking about how it plays with Natasha being literally in a fridge (a woman in a refrigerator, anyone?) and remaining totally in control of the situation throughout, ultimately turning it to her own advantage and revealing that getting here was part of her plan all along. It’s just gloriously done. I wrote an essay on a set of two panels from this scene for my art history class in college. It was great.

3. “I pick regret and kindness and mercy.” (Black Widow: Deadly Origin #4). I wouldn’t call this series as a whole ‘good’ but this part does always get me. I think because it has to do with the theme of choice, which I talk about a lot in my Black Widow Manifesto (linked below); the idea of being a hero not being part of an identity or something natural or automatic, but being a choice that’s made over and over again.

That for Natasha, it’s her very past as a villain that makes her very aware of that choice, and how deliberate it has to be. The context of this specific bit is that a character has just basically accused her of being an opportunist who doesn’t care about right or wrong - that she just picks sides based on whoever she likes best at the time. And this is her counter.

It’s that last part that always sticks out to me: “I pick regret and kindness and mercy.” Because it’s all things that are “soft.” That can be seen as “weak.” And this is Natasha decisively claiming them as hers - something that she’s chosen, and always will continue to choose.

4. The one where she goes toe to toe with Red Skull (Avengers #386). I didn’t read this one until recently when I tripped over it in my full readthrough of the first volume of the Avengers comics (starting in 1963). And when I did, let me tell you, I was thrilled.

I mean, there it is, right there. Red Skull has been beating up other Avengers for most of this issue, taking them down one at a time, and Natasha knows that. And here he is calling her the weakest of them all, and she’s absolutely ready and going to throw down. Unafraid, and defiant, and scornful. I love it. I love it.

5. Any of the times Natasha stands up for women/girls. I won’t put all the scans in this post, but I’ll just choose one of them:

This is a theme throughout Natasha’s appearances - the way that she relates to other women and will step in to help them when they’re in danger. Natasha has a reputation both in and out of universe for being cold and aloof, but the fact is that she has a very deep and very strong compassionate and protective streak, particularly for other women, particularly for other women specifically in danger from men/the patriarchy.

Whatever the perception of Natasha, or even, a lot of times, her self perception, she’s someone who has a great deal of heart for the people around her, and will always step up for the vulnerable.

Want a general “why I love comics!Natasha” manifesto with more favorite moments? Hey, I’ve got one for you.

MCU

It is too bad I am writing this before the actual Black Widow movie comes out when I could hopefully have all of these moments be from that. BUT in the meantime!

1. “Did I step on your moment?” There are three Winter Soldier moments on this list, and that is because, whatever my weird resentments toward Winter Soldier and the way fandom treats it, it is a movie that was really good for Natasha. And this is such a good one.

It’s in a scene where Robert Redford is building toward his grand conclusion, is certain of his own victory, is at the top of his game - and then there’s Natasha. Stepping on his moment, having been standing in the room in disguise the whole time.

2. “The truth is a matter of circumstances. It’s not all things to all people all the time, and neither am I.” This whole conversation with Steve is one of those ‘character defining’ moments I think about a lot, because it’s that dynamic of Natasha being a chameleon, and being very aware of the malleability of truth. Natasha lives in a world of shades of grey - not in terms of morality, even, necessarily, but in terms of definitions. Selfhood is flexible, identity is flexible, nothing is truly permanent or stable. Nothing lasts forever.

And that’s something Natasha is very much at peace with. It’s part of her survival, and it’s also just part of how she sees the world. It’s a sadness, in some ways - but it’s also a strength. Natasha’s ability to be flexible is one of the things that gives her an advantage and makes her a survivor. She adapts, she changes to suit a situation. It’s not a matter of being ‘two-faced’ or whatever - it’s a matter of understanding that identity isn’t singular or unidimensional.

Natasha has a very complicated and nuanced view of the world, and I feel like this conversation encapsulates some of that.

3. The highway fight in Winter Soldier. This is just...whenever we see Natasha absolutely unleash in a fight it’s super sexy, and this is probably my favorite version of that, because it is absolutely “Natasha fighting smart” and “Natasha going up against someone much stronger than she is, and doing pretty damn well for herself.”

4. Natasha-as-leader in Endgame. Okay, so Endgame ultimately did Natasha real dirty, but there were some good moments before then, and the one that stands out to me is the one early in the movie where Steve comes to see her and she is holding a meeting where she is coordinating efforts around the world, is clearly still tapped into the hero life, is trying to hold things together. Tony’s stepped out, Clint’s on a vengeance mission, Steve is trying (sort of) to do good things that aren’t Captain America things. Natasha’s still soldiering on, doing her best to staunch the bleeding.

And she’s clearly tired, and unhappy, but she will keep doing the work. Which is so very Natasha: it doesn’t matter, ultimately, what her personal feelings are. When there’s work to be done, she’ll do it.

5. The airport fight in Civil War. There are two moments in this that stick out to me - there’s the one with her and Clint (”we’re still friends, right?”) where she’s…idk, to me it reads a little like she’s still trying to hang on to both sides. I mean, it’s adorable, and also the fact that she and Clint are basically sparring with each other rather than actually fighting (Wanda calls Clint on it), but also there’s this sense that…Natasha’s never been in this for the ideology. She’s in it for the sake of doing what’s needed to keep her family alive and together.

Which is the second moment, obviously - when she stops T’Challa and lets Steve and Bucky escape. You can see that she knows what it means for her as far as her status, and as far as her other relationships. But she does it anyway, because she knows Steve won’t stop, won’t give up, and in order to keep him alive and safe she needs to let him get out of there - and also trusts that he’s not just running away, but running for a reason. That he has a purpose, and knows what he’s doing.

It’s a lot of faith that she’s giving, and a significant sacrifice she’s making at the same time.

Runner ups included anything with Auntie Nat, the Clint v. Natasha scene from The Avengers that I mentioned before, her intro scene with Bruce that I also mentioned before, and the “she’s not alone” moment from Infinity War.

I JUST LOVE NATASHA A LOT OKAY

#long post for ts #black widow #natasha romanoff #putting this in the tags because i put a lot of effort in here #natasha romanova is better than you #lisescans #a tag for comics #top five meme #lise memes #anonymous #conversating #now i only have one top tier comic fave i haven't done this for!#maybe i should just do that for fun

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stateofloveandnegan · 4 years

Text

Broken Ankle II - Richard Madden

If any of you would like a third part, let me know in the comments!

Requested by: no one

Part one / Part two / Part three

The next morning, I wake up with quite a lot of pain in my leg. I struggle and wince as I try to get out of bed. After a minute or two, I make it out and grab the crutches before making my way towards the bathroom to get some painkillers.

After taking them, I freshen myself up and grab my phone. I’ve got some messages, one of them putting a smile on my face.

Richard:

Good morning, (Y/N).

I hope you got some rest after yesterday.

Sent 9:11am

I take a seat on the edge of my bed and type out my response.

You:

Morning, Richard.

I did, I slept like a baby :)

How did you sleep?

Sent 9:36am

After sending the message, I go to my contacts and call my dad. With my leg like this, I can’t really dress myself. I mean, I can dress my upper body, but putting on a pair of sweats is harder than it seems with a casted leg.

My dad answers the phone almost immediately and tells me he’s already on his way to my room. I smile and end the call before putting my phone down, taking a not so charming, but comfy pair of sweats than I can fit over my leg.

A minute later my dad knocks on my door and I make my way towards it, taking a little longer than expected. “Sorry, I’m not quite used to these crutches yet.”

My dad simply chuckles, “It’s alright, darling. Take all the time you need, no need to rush.” Once I open the door, he smiles and comes in, closing the door behind him. “How did you sleep? Did it hurt?”

“I slept well. It didn’t hurt before, but now it does quite a bit. I’ve already taken some painkillers and got out some sweats I think will fit. Could you help with them?” I ask with a sheepish smile on my face. My dad smiles and nods. I go and sit on the bed so my dad can help me better, and much to our surprise, we manage to get the sweats on quite fast.

Together, we make our way downstairs, where we’ll have breakfast. “Did you already think about what we’ll do now?” I ask once we’re seated. My dad sighs a little, “Yeah. I’m afraid you can’t go with me on the bike, so we’ll have to book you a flight to get home.”

I sigh and look down, “I know. I don’t want to leave yet, though.” At that moment, my phone buzzes and I receive a text from Richard. A smile enters my face without my knowledge and when I look up at my dad, he has a funny grin on his face. “Did you and Richard have fun last night on the balcony?”

I blush and look down, “He’s just really nice, dad. He gave me his number before he and his mum left last night. He said that if we are to stay a little longer, he’d like to show me around a bit. He knows a lot of nice places in the area.”

“I’ve got an idea.” My dad says after a couple of minutes. I look up, taking a bite from my croissant, and nod so he’ll continue. “How about I go home by myself tomorrow. You can stay here for as long as you want, when you want to go home, you can ring me and I can book you a flight home.”

My eyes widen in surprise, I never expected my dad to be okay with something like that, I wouldn’t even have dared to propose that myself. Even though I’m twenty-three, my dad is still pretty protective. And honestly, I’m glad he is, it just means he cares a lot and doesn’t want me to get hurt.

“Are you serious?” I start, a smile spreading across my face, “That sounds like an amazing idea!”

My dad chuckles and reaches over the table to give my hand a soft squeeze. “I noticed how happy you were last night and figured it was because of Richard. I want you to enjoy this trip even with your leg like this.”

I smile at my dad, happier than ever to have him with me right now. “You are the best, dad.”

My dad just smiles and we both continue eating our breakfast. After breakfast we go back to our rooms for a bit. I grab my phone to see what Richard sent me earlier, excited to tell him the news.

Richard:

I slept very well, thanks for asking :)

Do you have any plans today?

Sent 10:01am

You:

I’m going to help my dad a little with packing some bags.

Sent 10:26am

Almost immediately, Richard answers.

Richard:

That means you’re leaving, then?

Sent 10:27am

You:

My dad, yes. He’s going back home tomorrow.

I’m not going home yet :)

Sent 10:27am

Richard:

What do you mean you’re not going home yet?

Isn’t your dad going home, because you broke your ankle?

Sent 10:28am

Instead of typing out my response, I click on his contact and call his number. I’m quite nervous about it, but I can’t really think about that, because before I know it, Richard has picked up. “(Y/N)?”

“Hey, yeah. I figured it’d be easier to tell you on the phone. My dad is going home, because I broke my ankle, yes. I can’t go home with him on the bike, so he said he’ll book me a flight. But he also said that if I wanted to stay a little longer, to… well,” I say, the nerves coming up as I say the next words, a blush creeping up on my face. “To spend some time with you, I could. I can give him a call if I want to go home and then he’ll book me a flight as soon as possible.”

“Really? That’s great!” Richard says, seemingly very happy about it. I chuckle softly, smiling brightly. “Yeah, I never expected that from him, but I’m really thankful for it.”

“I take it you’ll be spending your day with your dad?” He asks softly. “Yeah, he’ll leave tomorrow morning. So today will be packing backs and maybe going into town for a bit.”

Richard smiles, an idea popping up into his mind. “If you’d like, I can take you out for breakfast, tomorrow morning?”

I smile at the idea of having breakfast with him. My dad’s going to leave very early in the morning anyways, so I can easily get some breakfast with Richard. “I’d really like that, Richard.”

“I can pick you up at 9:15?” he proposes, and I tell him that that sounds perfect. “Have fun today and be careful with your ankle.”

“I will, Richard, don’t worry.” I say with a smile on my face, flattered that he cares. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Richard and I each say goodbye and we hang up. As soon as I do so, I get up from my seat and make my way over to my dad’s room so I can help him pack his bags. Later that day, my dad and I go into town to grab dinner at a nice Italian restaurant. The time flies and before we know it, we’re already back in bed.

I’m not super tired yet, so I grab my phone and send Richard a text.

You:

Hey,

How was your day?

Sent 11:26pm

I grab the remote of the tv and turn it on, surfing through some channels before ending up with Intouchables.

Richard:

Hey there,

My day’s been pretty active.

My mum and I have been working on the garden.

Was your day nice?

Sent 11:28pm

You:

That sounds quite fun.

is it beginning to look good?

My day’s been really nice,

My dad and I went into town, did some shopping,

After that we had dinner at this really nice Italian place.

Sent 11:29pm

Richard:

Yeah, it’s beginning to look really cosy and all beautiful!

That sound really nice.

What time will he leave tomorrow?

Sent 11:29pm

You:

That’s good :)

He’ll leave around 8.

Sent 11:29pm

Richard:

That’s pretty early.

Wish him a good trip from me?

Sent 11:30pm

You:

I will.

I’m going to watch a film now,

if that’s okay.

Sent 11:30pm

Richard:

Of course that’s okay!

I’ll see you tomorrow,

Good night, (Y/N).

Sent 11:31pm

I smile at my phone at quickly reply with a ‘Good night, Richard.’ before putting my phone away and shifting my attention to the tv.

The next morning, I help my dad get ready and when he’s gone, I go back upstairs, clumsily take a shower and get ready for breakfast with Richard. Yesterday I bought a nice pair of pants, wide enough to go over the cast on my leg, and very nice.

I mean, I want to look at least a little presentable when I’m with Richard… I do want to make an impression on him.

Suddenly a tiny blush creeps onto my face and I start getting a little nervous. It’s already 9 o’clock and Richard will be here very soon. I look in the mirror and I’m happy with what I see, even though one of my feet look stupid.

I texted Richard earlier that I’d be waiting outside the B&B on a bench, so that’s where I’m sitting right now, the crutches resting against the bench beside me. Not much later, a familiar figure walks up to me, he’s wearing nice black pants with a pair of very neat black shoes underneath them. On top of that, he’s wearing a good fitted black t-shirt with a brown corduroy jacket.

I grab the crutches and get up from the bench, smiling at him. “Good morning.”

“Hey there, good morning.” He smiles and to my surprise, he plants a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s go. I’m quite hungry.” I smile, my cheeks covered in a light tint of red as we start walking. “Did you come here walking?”

Richard looks at me sideways, “Yeah, it’s not too far. Was about a fifteen-minute walk.”

“That’s where your mum lives, right?” I ask, looking at him for a moment before looking back out front to see where I’m going.

He smiles, “Yeah, it’s where I grew up as well.” He looks around him as we walk and that gives me the opportunity to study him for a moment, careful not to stumble as I do so. Richard isn’t super tall; his height is perfect.

He has a light stubble on his chin, and it suits him amazingly. The small curls on his head are endearing and sexy at the same time, but the thing that’s definitely sexy about his hair, is that grey streak.

We soon reach a nice place and Richard leads me inside, finding a nice table out on the terrace. “You comfortable?” he asks once I’m seated. I smile and nod, “Yeah, I am.” Richard grabs my crutches and gently lays them down beside us on the ground.

A young, nice-looking boy comes to our table, kindly offering us the menus. “Good morning, Richard. Can I get you the usual drink?” he asks, smiling happily at Richard. Richard chuckles softly, “No, thank you, Danny. I’ve got to give it some thought today, that good?”

The boy, Danny, smiles and nods, leaving us be. I look at Richard, raising one eyebrow in curiosity. He chuckles, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I always come here to get a nice cup of coffee in the morning. Danny always works on the weekends.”

“He seems really sweet.” I smile at him, looking over at Danny for a moment as he walks about on the terrace. “He is, yeah. When I’m not here, he always makes sure to bring my mother something for lunch. He truly is an amazing young boy.”

I look at Richard, smiling as he looks at Danny, then back at me. “They’ve got some killer pancakes here.” He suddenly speaks, a grin on his face. “Oh yeah? I guess I’m gonna have to try those, then.”

Richard laughs softly and nods, “You definitely should, they’re amazing.”

Not much later, Richard and I are both digging into our pancakes, and as he said: they’re amazing. If it’s silent, because we’re eating or just because we’re quiet, it’s always a comfortable silence. I’ve never had something like this with someone I just met, but it just feels so at ease, so comforting.

I catch Richard looking at me every now and every time it happens, my heart flutters a little and my smile grows fonder. “You look really nice, (Y/N). I don’t think I’ve told you that before, have I?”

A tiny blush creeps up on my face and I shake my head, “No, you haven’t. Thank you, though. I tried my best to look at least decent enough.” I chuckle softly and Richard smiles, “You look much better than just decent.”

I smile at how sweet he is, “You look very nice yourself, Richard. Thank you for taking me out here.”

After we finish the pancakes, we both order a cup of coffee, enjoying each other’s presence. “Do you still live with your parents?” Richard asks and I shake my head, “I moved out very recently. I’ve got my own little apartment now, it’s still kind of a work in progress, but it’s beginning to feel more like home every time I’m there.”

“I know what you mean.” He smiles, “It’s nice to have your own place, though, isn’t it?” I nod at his question, “As much as I love to be around my parents, I definitely needed my own place.”

We both laugh and enjoy our cup of coffee. Once we’re both finished, Richard offers to pay, being the gentleman he is, and soon we’re on our feet again. We’re walking towards the city centre, because Richard wanted to show me where he had his first job when he was younger.

As we’re walking, Richard eventually breaks the comfortable silence with his slightly rough, yet gentle voice. “(Y/N), I just want to be sure…” he starts, and I raise my brows in curiosity at his tone, “but you’re not currently seeing anyone, are you?”

I blush and shake my head, “I’m not, don’t worry.” Richard lets out a happy sigh and smiles, causing me to gently bite down on the inside of my cheek.

They day goes by much too fast. Richard and I went out for lunch as well and an hour before dinner time, his mum called him, saying she had made dinner for us. Dinner with the two of them was amazing and delicious, but unfortunately now it’s time to go back.

“I’ll be out for a bit again, mum.” Richard calls to his mother and she smiles, I thank her for the amazing food and bid her a good night before walking out of the house with Richard behind me.

It’s a little colder than before, and since I forgot to take a jacket with me, Richard gently puts his around my shoulders. I put my arms through the sleeves and chuckle, “It’s much too big.”

“It’s cute.” Richard smiles and winks at me. I blush at his comment and we start making our way back to the b&b.

A couple of minutes later, we cross a nice ice cream parlor and I walk towards it. “C’mon, what would you like?” I ask Richard with a smile. “Strawberry, please.”

I order one Strawberry cone for Richard and a Stracciatella one for myself, paying for them as Richard takes them. We go to a little bench nearby and sit down, since I can’t walk with those crutches and eat the ice cream at the same time.

“Cheers.” Richard and I both say at the same time and we laugh softly before beginning to eat our ice cream. It’s very lovely and I snuggle into Richard’s jacket as the wind gets a little harsher.

“This is probably gonna sound like a ridiculous idea, so please tell me what you really think about it.” Richard speaks once we both finish our cone and I turn to look at him. “I was thinking, because there isn’t much more to do around here than what we did today… Would you like to come to London with me?”

My eyes widen a little at his question, but I almost immediately nod my head, “I’d love that!”

There’s a twinkle in Richard’s eyes and he smiles happily, “I can come tomorrow and help you pack your bags? If you want, we can leave in the afternoon. I’ve got my car here, so we don’t have to worry about public transport.”

“That sounds really good.” I smile as Richard helps me stand up again before we continue our walk to the b&b.

Once we get there, Richard helps me up to my room and smiles as he takes a look around. “I’ve crossed this building so many times, yet this is the first time I’ve ever came inside.” He chuckles softly and I smile. “Thank you for walking me back. And for everything we did today, I had a really good time. I’m really looking forward to going to London with you.”

He smiles and steps a little closer to me, “Me too, I hope I can make up for the shitty outcome of the trip with your dad.”

“You’re already doing an amazing job at that.” I blush lightly and look up at him, my breath catching slightly in my throat once I realise how close he is. “You’re absolutely beautiful, (Y/N). And definitely one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met.”

Richard’s voice is low and soft as he slowly brings his hand up to gently caress my face. I swallow softly, staring into his ocean blue eyes. “Does my age bother you in any way?” he asks a little unsurely, looking into my eyes for an answer. I shake my head, “It doesn’t, Rich.”

The insecurity leaves Richard’s eyes and he smiles, moving his face closer to mine. “May I?”

I don’t answer him with words, instead I move up a little and press our lips together, and I can feel him smiling against my lips before he starts kissing me back.

It’s a very innocent, yet passionate kiss. I’ve always wondered how it would feel to kiss someone and really mean it at the same time, and now I realise it’s better than anything I’ve ever imagined.

We break apart after a couple of minutes, cheeks flushed and both out of breath. Our foreheads are pressed together. “Good night, (Y/N). I’ll be here at around 11 tomorrow, that good?”

I smile and peck his lips once more, “Sounds good. Good night, Rich.”

#Richard Madden #Richard Madden fanfic #Richard Madden fanfiction #Richard Madden fan fiction #Richard Madden x reader #Richard Madden one shot #Richard Madden imagine #Richard Madden drabble #Richard #madden #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #one shot #reader insert #imagine #drabble

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hermankopusortizorsumshite · 4 years

Text

WARNING: MADNESS, I’m really tired and I wrote this half-asleep. There’s sexual maturity for sure, mentions of blood, drug abuse(though totally accidental)

PART ONE OF THREE! This is so long I’m not sorry, lol I’m a little sorry, but I hope you enjoy it! Next up is gonna be some Luca!!

Her phone buzzed across her counter as she packed her bag, ready for her girls weekend with a couple friends. She and her friends were getting ready for a weekend with booze, cute boys, and the beach.

“Hey Koz!” She cheers as she zips her suitcase.

“Hey Birdie! You busy this weekend?” He asks.

“Yeah, a little. Why? What’s up?” She perches on the edge of her bed.

“SAMCRO called a lockdown. They want Tacoma down there. Aren’t you, Teagan, and Jazz going down anyway?” He asks.

“Yeah, planned on hitting the beach down there too.”

“Well, I’d like you to stay at SAMCRO a couple nights with me. Just to be on the safe side. And take an escort with you to the beach.” He states, feet swinging back and forth while he sat on the bridge looking over the river.

“Okay, I suppose. I’m not an old lady though. Don’t these guys only target them?”

“No. They’ll target you because you’re from the Tacoma charter. You hang around the club too much not to be noticed.” He chuckles as he stands and swings a leg over his Dyna.

“Okay, I suppose I could do that. My weekend

wouldn’t be totally ruined.” She giggles, hearing his bike roar to life.

“Alright cool. I’ll see you down there. You know how to get there?” He asks.

“Not really.”

“I’ll be at your place in a few minutes then and you can follow me down.” He informs. “Gotta go, see ya in a few.” He smiles, hanging up and revving for her house. As he pulls into her driveway, he cuts the engine and heads for the door. She greets him on the front porch, arms awaiting him. He draws her into a warm hug.

“Man, I’m kind of excited to spend a the weekend with you.” She laughs, grabbing one suitcase while he grabs the other.

“Yeah? Not sure how much of me you’ll see, but I’m kind of excited you’re gonna be safe.” He laughs, piling her suitcases in her backseat. Her bikini falls from the front pocket and he grabs it, tying the strings around his neck and stretching the cups across his chest. “There is no way this fits you.” He nips, laughing so hard he wheezes. She turns, seeing the sight before her.

“Hey! Look at you! That’s sexy. Do a spin!” She cheers, grabbing her sides as he turns in a slow circle. He’s still laughing as he tucks her top into the bag and shuts the door. “I’ll follow you then. Don’t go too fast.” She wags a finger at him.

“No promises, Birdie.” He laughs, climbing on his bike before he turns and heads back to her car. “You wanna ride the Dyna down with me?” He asks. A spark lit in her eyes as she grinned at him.

“What about my bags?” She asks. He unhooks a saddlebag and jogs it back to her.

“Whatever fits in here you can take.” He chuckles, passing it to her.

“I’ve never ridden on your bike Koz. Does this mean we’re like officially old lady and creepy old man biker now?” She asks, winking at him. He slaps a hand to his heart, mockingly offended.

“No, it just means you trust me enough to get on a two-wheeled death machine on the expressway.” He laughs as she tucks the last of her things into the saddlebag and hands it back to him.

“Great, as long as you don’t kill me.” She laughs, climbing on carefully.

“Don’t get weird now. Gimme your hands.” He calls, reaching back and grabbing her hands and he pulls them around his front.

“Glad you put deodorant on!” She yells as he kicks the bike to life.

“Hold on.” He states as he roars out of her driveway and on to the road. She giggles and shrieks, holding tightly to him. The smoke and cologne filled her nostrils as she hid her face in his back. He laughs as he leans the bike into the turn while merging onto the expressway. He smiled while he mellowed out, the wind caressing his face. Finding a little confidence, she hooks her legs around his waist and locks her ankles, feeling safe when Kozik’s big hand rests on her petite ankles. “Do it.” He cheers. Finding the confidence once more, she lets go and puts her arms in the air, hands outstretched. The cool night air swirling around her, the beautiful star-ridden sky above her, she was as free as she could be.

“Kozzie!” She cheers, clenching her legs tighter as he gunned it a little faster.

“It’s freeing, huh?” He calls, glancing back and grinning.

They pull into Teller-Morrow, she climbs off the bike behind him. He grabs both saddlebags and heads inside. She follows shyly behind him, keeping close to him. Eyes fall on her, women smiling at her and men waving as they greeted Kozik.

“Who’s the girl?” A tall older gentleman asks, grey short hair and a long over face and big chin.

“My friend Birdie. She’s a close friend. I gotta keep her safe.” He drawls, pulling her against him, his arm slung lazily over her shoulder.

“Well Birdie, welcome to Charming. Kozik here must think pretty highly of you. You two okay sharing a room?” He asks.

“Yeah! Absolutely. I don’t wanna be a burden.” She jumps in, hooking a thumb through his belt loop. He looks down at her for a moment and he herds her towards a table full of women.

“Ladies, this is Birdie. She’s my best friend. Let’s be nice.” He chuckles, leaving her at the table and disappearing.

“Kozik must really like you if you’re here. You two friends with benefits?” Asks a woman with dark eye makeup and blond-streaked black hair.

“No! No.” She laughs, awkwardly twirling her thumbs around each other until Kozik reappears with drinks, a Mike’s Hard Lemonade handed promptly to her. “Thanks Koz. It’s been a long night. I’m ready to hit the hay.” She whispers, giving a deep yawn and rubbing her eyes.

“Aw shit, yeah. Follow me.” He grabs her wrist and leads her down the hall to the last bedroom on the right.

“Thanks. Our bags right there? I gotta call the girls. Let them know I came down with you.” She smiles as she grabs her phone. Turning before she dials, grabs Kozik’s arm and hugs him.

“What’s that for?” He chuckles, patting her shoulders.

“I just—I don’t know why you made me come with you, but thank you. No one’s ever been so concerned that they put me on lockdown with them.” She coos.

“You’ve had my back since high school. You saw me through some mad shit. You never gave up on me. The least I can do is put you on lockdown.” He laughs, patting the top of her head and disappears. Grabbing a blanket from the dresser, she curls up on the couch, finding it rather comfortable and almost instantly falling asleep. At some point in the night, she hears the door softly click shut and the light next to the bed comes on. Kozik kicks his boots off under the edge of the bed, his eyes meet her sleeping ones, and she sees him smile a little to himself. Shaking his head, he shrugs off his kutte and drawing his shirt over his head. She sucked in a breath, not ready to see him shirtless. It caught his attention and she stretched her arms up, and rolled a little, cuddling deeper into the couch.

Shimmying from his jeans, he tosses it all into a pile on the floor and crawls into bed, heaving a sigh. He felt bad that she took the couch. He tossed all night, feeling so bad that she took the couch. Morning began peeking through the blinds and she rose with a stretch, rubbing her eyes before they fell on Kozik sleeping. He looked so peaceful. Smiling, she pulls on one of his SAMTAC sweatshirts from his bag and finds her way to the kitchen. Greeting the same woman from the night before with a smile, another woman hands her a cup of coffee.

“Thank you so much.” She coos, her fingers grasping the mug through his sweatshirt sleeves.

“Wearing Kozik’s sweatshirt?” She asks with a little smirk.

“Yeah, I didn’t pack any of my own. I packed for a weekend on the beach. Which actually is what I had planned before Koz asked me to come here.” She smiles as she sips from her mug.

“I see, well, I’m Gemma, Clay’s old lady. That’s Tara,” she points to the woman who had handed you the coffee with a sweet smile.

“I’m Birdie.” She smiles, gasping when a ringed hand cups her rear.

“Good morning. Where’s Kozik?” Asks a man with dark curls and bright blue eyes.

“He-he’s sleeping.” She stammers, finding herself uncomfortable. Gemma reaches out and swats the man in the chest.

“Christ Tig, just because you have a personal vendetta against him doesn’t mean you should make her part of this.” She scolds. “Plus, they say they’re not dating, but he would still probably kill you for that.” She points a perfectly manicured finger at her.

“You’re probably right. But tell me, doll, you like that?” He hushes in her ear, grabbing her rump once more.

“Well darlin’, you’ll just have to figure it out. Won’t ya?” She purrs, running a finger down his chest. Kozik pads into the room, eyes fixing on her and Tig flirting. Something burned in his throat and he set his jaw, heading past them to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

“Morning Kozik!” Tig calls, laughing hard for a moment before smiling to Birdie and heading out. Kozik is quick to move in and sit next to her.

“What was that?” He rasps, sipping his coffee.

“Just a friendly welcome.” She giggles, patting his shoulder.

“If he makes you uncomfortable, just say so. I’ll drop his ass.” He growls, taking another drink.

“Jeez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” She laughs, hopping off the barstool and making her way back to the room. Kozik was quick to follow, needing to change and get ready for the day.

“Hey girl! Yeah! Just meet me at TM and I’ll be out for ya. Yeah, I came back with Koz. I don’t know, he was worried about me I guess. I know. Yeah, this cute guy with blue eyes grabbed my butt this morning. I haven’t told Koz it was a joke yet. Yeah! He was almost jealous. Ya think?” He opens the door and heads straight to his bag, unzipping it and grabbing jeans and a tee shirt. Yanking off his tee shirt and sweatpants, he pulls on his jeans and fresh black tee shirt, stepping into the bathroom and spiking his hair, almost angrily. Spritzing on a little cologne and starts back out of the room.

“Koz, here you missed a spot.” He shrugs and grumbles something before slipping out of the room.

Jazz and Teagan show up around noon, and she’s ready to go. Short shorts and a cropped tee shirt that Koz had gotten her on one of his trips. Hair pulled back into a braid and a sweet smile on her red tinted lips.

“Hey girl!” Teagan cheers, gripping Birdie in a hug. Teagan’s bright red hair was pulled into a big bun, her beautiful curvy body donning short green shorts and a purple bustier.

“You literally look like Ariel.” Birdie gushes, arms swung wide as she looked over her best friend.

“That was the goal. Is he hot or what?” She asks, pointing to Tig.

“That’s blue eyes himself. He’s a real talker.” She laughs, rolling her eyes. She could hear a huff come from near Kozik. Shrugging it off, she heads towards him, towing Jazz and Teagan. “Hey Kozzie! We’re headed out.” She informs, a small bag draped over her shoulder carrying the essentials.

“Alright, be safe. You want a tail?” He asks, standing to grip her in a hug.

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine.” She laughs, hugging him. Letting go, he watches as the three girl cackle and giggle out of the clubhouse.

“Koz! You follow those girls.” Clay calls once the door is closed. With a nod, he grabs his kutte and keys, hopping on his bike and following after them. He trails their car to the beach, where they get out and head for the water. He watches, dismounting his bike and heading down towards the beach. Finding a picnic table in the shade, he places his phone on the table in front of him and watches on.

“Hey cutie! You getting in?” Asks a brunette with pretty hazel eyes and a dazzling smile.

“Nah, just here on business.” He drones, looking down at his phone as it vibrates across the table. “Yeah?” He asks.

“Are you gonna come down here? Or just sit there like creepy stalker?” She laughs, and his eyes meet hers for a second. A grin breaks across his face and he shakes his head ‘no’, hanging up.

“Ya know what? Yeah, I’m gettin’ in.” He nods and the brunette follows as he strips his boots, kutte, tee shirt, and jeans.

“You’re pretty cute, ya know?” Asks the brunette, giving him a lustful smile.

“Ya think?” He coos, letting her hands float over him in the water.

“Yeah, you’re SAMCRO, huh?” She runs a pretty manicured nail over his shoulder as he tugs her close.

“Sure am, that turn you on?” He rasps, letting her kiss him. He deepens the kiss with a flick of his tongue against her lips. “You wanna take this back to TM?” He hushes against her neck, leaving kisses in its wake.

“Baby, I was praying you’d ask.” She giggles breathily as they grab his clothes and head for the Dyna. Birdie watches with a sad smile as he loads this random chick onto his bike, him on only his jeans, boots, and kutte. She found herself shuttering at the thought. Did she find him attractive? No way. He was her best friend.

“Now that our tail is gone, you guys wanna hit a bar or two?” Jazz suggests with a dirty smile. The three squeal in acceptance, running for their towels and then for the car.

They hit the bar at six PM, and by eleven PM, they were pulling into TM. Birdie was very drunk and giggly as they opened her door and she stumbled for the door. Kozik was pissed, but he caught her before she hit the ground.

“Jesus.” He chuckles, the anger melting away as she fell happily into his arms.

“No, m’not jesus. M’birdie. Twee twee!” He starts to laugh as he helps her into the building.

“You okay?” He asks as he leads her through the crowd.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re here.” She coos, staring dazedly at him and pinching his cheek softly.

“Yeah, you’d have messed up that pretty face if I wasn’t.” He laughs, but he hears a sniffle and looks down to see tears in her eyes.

“You think thad’m pretty?”

“Oh lord. Let’s get you to bed.” He laughs as she stumbles and they both fall to the ground.

“M’sorry, Kozzie. My legs feel kinda funny.” She mutters, patting his arm. “Just leave me here, maybe one of these hunky men will have their way with me.” She drawls, pushing him away. Something about that bothered him. She was a strong, independent woman. She was unique and one of a kind. She was everything a man could want and need, and here she was hoping some grubby biker would drop his pants and have his way with her like she was a crow eater.

“Christ. Let’s go.” He groans, pulling her up into his arms and sweeping her away to their room. Pulling off her converse and her jean shorts, he pulls a blanket over her and his fingers reach for her sleeping, sweet peaceful face. With a gentle swipe of his knuckles against her cheek, he huffs and gets ready for bed. As he’s pulling his shirt over his head, he jumps when he feels hands smoothing up his waist to his shoulders.

“Koz.” She whispers. He turns to face her, her hands still exploring the muscles along his chest, and the dips and peaks of his body.

“What are you doing?” He chuckles, trying to put her back on the couch.

“I think you’re beautiful.” She drunkenly murmurs, trying to get back up.

“Thank you. Now please sleep.” He laughs hard as he climbs into bed. This was her usual alcohol night. She’d start to get handsy until she went to sleep. She would tell him how beautiful he is.

She woke around eleven with a headache from hell, Kozik wasn’t anywhere in the room but on the side table was a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water.

‘Take these.

I’ll be in the shop working by the time

You come back to life.

Koz’

She took them, slipping on a black pair of jean shorts and a black bustier, yanking her hair up into a messy bun and slipping into her converse. She found the garage quickly, grabbing a bucket of water on the way by the hose. She wanders up to him, grinning from ear to ear and thanks him for the water before splashing him with the bucket. Sitting there, blowing water from his mouth and eyes, he swipes his face and stands, his shirt sticking his his body.

“You’re so dead.” He growls with a cute smirk as she tosses aside the bucket and starts sprinting away, him chasing after her.

“Tig! Fill that bucket!” Kozik shouts as he trips, grabbing her ankle as he tumbles across the pavement. She hits hard, scraping her hands and knees, but she shakes them off, trying to jump to her feet only just in time for Tig to dump the bucket of water on her head.

“You son-of-a-bitch!” She shouts, pouncing on the blonde sitting on the concrete. Yanking her ponytail from her hair, she shakes the water from her hair all over his face. Kozik sticks his hand in his pocket, pulling out his greasy towel and smudges grease all over her face. Jumping from his lap, she sprints for the clubhouse. “I’m gonna put all of your clothes in the shower!” She shouts.

“I swear to god! I’ll drown you in that shower!” He calls, sprinting after her, a big grin on his face.

“I’m not so easy to catch now that you’re a little huskier!” She shouts.

“Did you just call me fat?” He shouts as he grabs for her.

“No! You’re husky not fat! It’s fur not fat!” She cackles as she ducks down the hallway and dives through the door, trying to kick it shut. His sticks his arm through the door and wedges his way in. They both heave, out of breath. But they were grinning from ear to ear.

“You are still so fast.” He heaves through his heavy breaths.

“You’re just jealous.” She huffs. Grabbing for her duffel, she finds a pair of teal blue dolphin shorts and a cute tie dyed tank top. Slipping into the bathroom she dries herself off and comes out dressed.

“I need a towel if you don’t mind.” She giggles, finding him still dripping wet. His uniform shirt clung to his wide chest, leaving her staring at his chest. “Here.” She tosses him one, flopping onto the couch and kicking her feet up on the arm to enjoy the show.

“You enjoying the show?” He asks, peeking over his shoulder at her.

“Sure, take it all off.” She cheers, laughing as she averted her eyes away from his chest. Taking the opportunity, he strips down and pulls a clean pair of jeans and swings a leg over her lap, straddling her hips. Looping the towel around her neck, he pulls her face in chest from his chest, rolling his hips into hers. She threw her head back and laughed.

“Don’t tempt me.” They laugh as he climbs off her, putting on his black tee and heading back outside.

“Hear my out, we get Kozik to tease her, do a little lap dancin’, best prank ever.” Tig and the guys are all sitting around the picnic table eating lunch when Kozik comes out. “Koz! C’mere! We got an idea!” Tig calls, waving the blonde over.

“Yeah?”

“You give her a lap dance. I got hundred bucks says you won’t do it.” Tig waves a Benjamin in his face. Kozik chuckles.

“You’re on. I got a hundred bucks she laughs when he’s done.” Gemma tosses in on the bet, and all together the pool almost six hundred bucks.

“You guys are on.” He laughs, heading back over to his bike. She comes back out and everyone’s grinning and she grins along as she sits next to Kozik to watch him work. Around two PM Jazz and Teagan show up, today was beach day all day and a strip club at night, but the girls decided against it saying it was too risky and they’d rather just drink wine coolers at the beach.

“Jazz, Teagan, you two bring her back by ten and come on in, have a couple beers.” Kozik invited the two in before whisking away.

Ten o’clock came fast and he was drinking a beer, watching the door. They had a chair set up and a song picked out. He’d never lap danced before, but he was ready to try it. Gemma’s comment spurred him and made him grin. A laugh? More like a puddle. And he’d like to see that.

“Hey!” Jazz and Teagan cheer as they walk in, and there she was behind them. Six hundred dollars was a lot of money for a silly prank. He pushes off the bar as Tig leads her to the chair in the middle of the room. The opening of the song comes on and Kozik shoots tequila before shaking his head. He finds his way to the chair with his best friend sat. He stood in front of her, his back to her. He spins, facing her and winking, walking slowly towards her. Once he was in front of her, his hand reached out and his fingers ran along her jaw. She grinned.

* Close your eyes, make a wish

And blow out the candlelight*

His thumb and finger raised her chin, his thumb tracing her bottom lip.

*For tonight is just your night

We're gonna celebrate,

All through the night*

His hands run so gently down her sides, lingering on her hips for a moment as his eyes met hers before they slid down her thighs, massaging them as he moved to cup her knees.

* Pour the wine, light the fire

Girl your wish is my command*

She sucks in a breath and her grin disappears, now he was getting it. His hands rested on her knees for a moment before he spread them. Running his hands down her bare leg, he puts it on his knee, following suit with the other side, before promptly rising to his feet and grinding against her.

“Koz-“ He silences her with a finger to her lips, running his fingertip across her Cupid’s bow, his thumb rubbing gently against her bottom lip.

*I submit to your demands

I will do anything,

Girl you need only ask*

Grabbing the seat of the chair, he lifts her off the floor, her squeaks only further egging him on. Gently placing her back on floor, he looks into her eyes for a moment to find some kind of wonder, her pupils blown wide and mouth slightly agape. Hovering above her lap, he slides his shirt up and presses her hand against his hot skin.

*I'll make love to you

Like you want me to

And I'll hold you tight

He rolls his hips forward as he slides his shirt over his head, hooking it behind her head, he draws her face against his body, her open mouth touching his skin and her breath catches in her throat. He’s still rolling his hips steadily as he takes her hands and flattens them against his pecs. Guiding her hands down his torso, he glances at her to find her head tipped back, eyes closed, a strangled moan on her lips. Sliding her hands around him, they smack against his ass.

*Baby all through the night

I'll make love to you

When you want me to

And I will not let go

Till you tell me to*

His hands frame her face, making her look into his eyes for a moment as he rolls his hips. Sliding away from her, he grabs her hands in his and pulls her to her feet and holds her arms above her head. His hands trace every curve of her body, his hot breath on her skin making it crawl with lust. His lips were brushing her skin and setting her skin on fire.

Girl relax, let's go slow

I ain't got nowhere to go

I'm just gonna concentrate on you

Girl are you ready?

As he stood, his nose trailed up her, sending jolts through her whole body as he slides her back in the chair and grinds against her a little more.

It's gonna be a long night

Throw your clothes on the floor

I'm gonna take my clothes off too

I made plans to be with you

Girl whatever you ask me you know I can do

I'll make love to you

Like you want me to

And I'll hold you tight

Baby

He rights himself, grabbing her wrist to pull her to the bar but her quaking legs give up from underneath her. Stumbling he’s quick to grab her and he can’t help the chuckle.

“Kozik, what the fuck was that?” She breathes, finding a seat on a bar stool.

“What?” He asks, accepting money from certain people.

“Why are you paying him?” She asks Gemma, as she slides a hundred bucks over.

“We bet he wouldn’t give you a lap dance and that you wouldn’t be putty.” She chuckles.

“Bet? Koz! You did this on a bet?” She calls, anger filling her eyes.

“Yeah, why?” He asks with a smirk as a crow eater gets in his face. He happily accepts her company, letting her run her hands over his shoulders and body, and soon they disappear to their shared room.

Tears fill her eyes as she calls Jazz and Teagan.

“No girl, we haven’t left the party yet.” They assure. She meets them outside and they climb into Teagan’s car and head for the hotel room. Once at the hotel, they find a mini bar and she gets wasted, passing out in the room.

Kozik with a rough start. A naked girl with curly hair sits up rubbing her eyes and he eyes scan the room looking for her. He was kind of confused. Grabbing his jeans, he slides them on and starts through the clubhouse to the kitchen.

“Good morning-“

“Quit freaking out. She’ll be back later.” Gemma warns, pointing at him.

“Why is she so mad?” He asks, scratching his head.

“I’m not sure. She didn’t appreciate our little bet.” She chuckles, heading back into the kitchen. Bet? The lap dance? She actually was genuinely upset over it? Grabbing his phone, he calls her.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me are you—“ she slams her phone shut hanging up on him. He calls Teagan and Jazz, on the forth try Teagan answers with a short ‘what’. “Hey, I’m sorry. Tell her she needs to come back, we’ve got shit to do today and she needs to be here.”

“Yeah? Well that sucks.” Teagan barks.

“You listen to me. You don’t like me, and that’s fine. But the safety of that girl is everything to me. You have her back here by noon, or I’ll come hunting and knock down every door until I find her.” He growls, hanging up. He sat there a little shocked. Where did that come from? He shook his head, hopping off the barstool. He was her best friend, her protector. He kept her safe. He always felt like it was his job.

“Damn, John Wick.” Gemma laughs, sliding him a cup of coffee. Taking a drink, he carries the mug with him back to his room.

“Here darlin’.” He smiles, handing the woman the cup.

“Thanks, baby. So, you gonna tell me where you learned to dance like that?” She asks, a smirk on her lips. With a chuckle, he shakes his head.

“I guess I have an inner stripper.” He nods, sitting next to her.

“I guess so. That was hot, by the way. Whoever the girl was, she was like melted butter when you were done. Though, if we’re being honest, I would’ve been too.” She laughs, leaning in and pressing kisses to his shoulder. His eyes shut as she lays him down, straddling him and rolling her hips into his, when he opens his eyes, he sees her face. Birdie, riding against him. Blinking a couple times, he finds himself licking his lips and closing his eyes. As the crow eater takes his jeans off and slides her warm mouth down onto him, he lets out a breath, imagining Birdie’s sweet face. Coughing he shakes his head and sinks his fingers into her hair.

Noon comes around and Birdie storms through the door, eyebrows low and scowling. She storms straight passed him and into their room.. Flopping on the couch with an exasperated sigh, she crosses her arms over her chest and tucks her knees against her arms.

“Hey to you too.” He chuckles dryly, rolling his eyes.

“I’m here now. Don’t worry. Whatever you said to Teagan worked. She dropped me off at eleven fifty-six and said they were going home. So thank you for that. Christ. You can’t leave anything alone can you?” She spouts at him.

“Sorry?” He asks, tipping his head to the side as his crow eater comes out of the bathroom.

“Great!” She yells, bounding out of the room and out to the clubhouse, leaving the safety of the building and heading to the garage. Shock is written across his face as he stands there, looking at her confused. He finds her in the garage, working away on a car.

“What did I do?” He a``sks, pulling the wrench from her hands.

“Nothing.” She hisses, grabbing the wrench and huffing when he won’t let go. “Christ can’t you just leave me alone? Haven’t you done enough?” She shouts, her hurt eyes meeting his for the first time since she got back. His heart jammed up for a second, concern crossing his brows as he tips his head a little to the side.

“What did I do?”

“What didn’t you do! That hilarious lap dance? That crow eater? Can’t you just let me have a different room? Why did you have to embarrass me like that? You know how I feel about you! You know! And you did that little lap dance for money. Used me for money! What the hell were you thinking?” She shouts, tears filling her eyes. He swallows hard, the lump in his throat not leaving. He hadn’t meant it like that. He didn’t mean to hurt her.

“I know you think I’m beautiful or whatever, but-“ She gives a little sniffle and heads out of the garage. He left her alone, let her go to their shared room to have some time alone. She really wanted to go back to Tacoma, and he figured if everything was squared away after this pissing war tonight he’d take her in the morning.

The crew left to meet up with Weston.

After the fight, Kozik slinked into the room and he hoped she wasn’t here to see him like that. Sitting on the couch with a book in hand, she looks up for a second and the blood catches her eye. Springing to her feet, she cups his face in her hands, gingerly brushing his cheek with her thumb.

“What happened?” She asks, sitting him on the edge of the bed and rushing into the bathroom.

“Just a little fist fight.” He chuckles as she crawls up on the bed and sits crisscross. Taking his ringed hand into hers, she slips the rings off. Dabbing at his knuckles, once she’s finished she slips his rings back on, repeating it on the second hand.

“Who were you fighting?” She hushes as she dabs the cotton ball against his face. Grabbing a butterfly bandage, she pinches together the split above his eyebrow.

“Just some guys.” He chuckles. Putting away the medical supplies, she finds her place back on the couch. “Hey, uh.” He swallows hard. He couldn’t understand why he didn’t want her to go back to Tacoma. “Thanks.” He smiles, standing and leaving the room. Once the door clicked shut, they both heaved a big sigh.

“Koz! Church.” Tig shouts as he makes his way down the hall. Kozik heads to church. He didn’t want her to leave. He found it comforting to know she was here where he could keep her safe. Once church was over, he heads to the bar for a drink.

“Hey darlin’.” Purrs a crow eater. He shakes his head and starts off for their room.

“Hey Birdie?” He asks as he steps in the room. She’s on the bed, pillow under her neck, head tipped back and her jaw clenched. He reaches out and touches her forehead, feeling it burning his hand. “Birdie! Birdie wake up!” He shouts, rolling her over on her side and jamming his middle two fingers down her throat. She gags, but doesn’t throw up. He does it again. “Birdie! Please! Come on!” He cries, shaking her shoulders. One more heave and she throws up on the floor.

“Kozik?” Gemma calls from outside the door.

“Yeah! In here!” He shouts, grabbing her hair out of her face. Shaking her shoulders, he begs her to wake up. “Birdie! Birdie for christ sake! Wake up!” He shouts, holding her tight. He hugs her against him and rocks her as she opens her eyes.

“Kozzie?” She asks, blinking at him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He barks, smoothing her hair from her face. Gemma comes in to find Kozik huddled around her on the floor, rocking her back and forth, his gaze fixed on her face.

“What’s happening?” She asks, looking between the blonde and Clay’s old lady.

“What the fuck happened? Someone give you something? Who? Tell me. Tell me who.” His eyes were dangerously dark, his knuckles white as they gripped her shirt.

“What? I found the pills in your bag, I just thought-“

“No! You took them? How many? Birdie how many?” He shouts, shaking her shoulders. Gemma tugs her away from him, telling him to leave and calm down. He does at once, storming out and slamming the door shut. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could he be so stupid? How could he leave that unattended? He was gonna sell them. Goddamnit! He slams his fist into the cement wall over and over again, tears falling down his face.

“Kozik?” Jax asks, looking outside.

“She OD’d on ecstasy she found in my duffelbag. Me. I did it. Christ, how could I be so stupid?” He bawls, looking to the younger blonde for an answer.

“You didn’t mean it, man.”

“It still happened.”

Birdie steps out into the early morning, she hurt all over. Her eyes scan the room before her, finding Kozik sitting on the couch. Hunched forwards, elbows resting on his knees, he looked exhausted.

“Morning.” She murmurs. It catches his attention and he jumps to his feet.

“How stupid are you?” He asks. Her brows furrowed as he asked. Confused and hurt.

“I’m sorry?”

“Ecstasy? How many did you take? And why the fuck would take shit out of my bag?” He slams his fist into the side table.

“I thought they were headache medication. I’m sorry.” She murmurs.

“You scared the fuck out of me. Do you understand? I caused that shit! I could have prevented it! I thought—“ he licks his lips and swallows hard. “I thought you were gonna die. For fuck’s sake, if you died-“ he huffs and clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “Pack your stuff. I’m taking you back to Tacoma.” He nips, walking out and slamming shut the door.

She packed in silence, calling a cab. Carefully slipping out the door, she hails her taxi and climbs in. Leaving charming without a word to anyone, she calls Teagan and Jazz telling them to meet her at her place for drinks and a sleepover.

Kozik headed back to the bedroom to round up his best friend.

“Hey, I’m sorry for snapping earlier. Are you about ready to-“ he looks around finding it empty. Scratching his head, he makes his why to his bike and finds she’s not there either. Jogging over to the guards, he asks if they saw her.

“Yeah man, she got a taxi.” Kozik headed back inside and grabbed his phone. Dialing her number, he calls her but it goes straight to voicemail. The worst ideas start running through his head.

Kidnapped.

Broke down.

Beat up.

Killed.

#imagine #cute imagine #herman kozik imagine #kozik #herman kozik #kozik imagine #kozik oneshot #soa #sons of anarchy

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brideofedoras · 4 years

Text

The Loft: Redemption

Disclaimer: the usual.

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: Mentions of sex dreams, masturbation, naughty thoughts and implied naked Vincent Stevens.

Rating: 18+

Chapter 5

Vincent groaned into his pillow after glancing at the alarm clock. Three twenty-six in the morning and he was wide awake.

He blamed the dream. Jesus Christ, did he blame the dream.

The same dream he’d had every night since he’d nearly kissed Sam in the conference room. When she had straightened his tie and told him she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression because he was a rumpled mess.

He rolled onto his back and tossed the covers off. “She’s off-limits, Stevens,” he muttered as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Too good for an asshole like you, you’d only ruin her.”

He slipped out of bed and stalked across the loft to the bathroom. He screwed his eyes shut when he flipped on the light, the sudden brightness burning. “She deserves better.”

Deserves better than a man pushing forty with a history of womanizing and cheating. A man who had been arrested for murder. A man paying dearly in alimony and child support with strict and limited visitation with his children. A man who had fought and struggled and clawed his way back from rock bottom to keep his company afloat.

He squinted his eyes as he opened them, locking onto the shadowed eyes in the mirror. “She’s too young for me anyway,” he sighed heavily before turning toward the shower and turning it on. He adjusted it to the coldest temperature he could stand and stripped out of his blue and grey plaid pajama bottoms. His erection, brought on by the damned erotic dream, throbbed against his abdomen. He glared at it. "Cold showers at three thirty in the god damned morning are not my idea of fun,“ he muttered before stepping into the shower. He bit back a yelp as the stream of cold water hit his skin.

Vincent ducked his head under the icy spray, welcoming the shock and hoping it would kill his raging desire so he would not have to deal with it himself. In the past it never bothered him to jack off in the shower. Back then he hadn’t given a damn. But now?

Now he felt dirty. He felt disgusted any time he had to bring himself to completion after dreaming about making love (not fucking, not screwing, not banging, making slow, sweet love) to Sam in his office or on the damned conference table. But the cold shower was not helping kill the lust. With a growl he soaped up his hands before curling his fingers around his aching manhood and thinking of anyone but Sam. But all he could see was his beautiful, efficient, brilliant assistant reaching up to straighten his damned tie. One hand curling around the tie at his chest, the other sliding up to the knot, her brow furrowed in concentration, full bottom lip trapped in her teeth, big grey eyes shyly meeting his.

Fuck.

Vincent leaned back against the cold ceramic tiles of the shower, swearing a blue streak as he struggled to regain his breath. He reached over and turned the shower off. He stood there a few minutes more before stepping out onto the plush bath mat and grabbing a towel to dry off with. He tossed it angrily toward the hamper as he stalked out of the bathroom.

He grabbed his bottle of bourbon and a tumbler. The drink he poured he knocked back quickly. "Dammit,” he muttered. He poured another drink. With a frown he filled the tumbler nearly to the brim.

Vincent knew bourbon was not the answer to his problem. But he drank it anyway. He chugged the generous glass and poured another to take to bed. As he set the tumbler on the nightstand he glanced at the alarm clock. 3:42. "Hell,“ he muttered. His alarm was set for six, and he was wide awake.

And hungry.

Most men would fall asleep after a damned good orgasm, whether resulting from sex or masturbation. He never did. Maybe it was years of cheating on Barb and not wanting to risk falling asleep and wind up getting busted, maybe he was wired different. But he always wound up hungry.

He made his way back to the kitchen to scope out the contents of the refrigerator and grinned when he saw the takeout container from yesterday’s, no, the day before’s, lunch. Sam had ordered extra Chinese when he’d commented about possibly working late to work on that damned park design he’d been struggling with. "Still struggling with the damned thing, too,” he grabbed the container and popped it in the microwave.

He scrubbed his right hand over his face as he waited for the food to heat up. But he could not get the images from that dream out of his head. Wide grey eyes behind those glasses she always wore. Soft pink blush on her cheeks. Plump kissable lips. Silky dark hair he longed to tunnel his fingers into as he kissed her senseless or marked up her neck. Elegant fingers he wanted to entwine with his as he made slow, sweet love to her. Long legs he wanted wrapped around his hips as he drove into her over and over again.

The tattoo on her shoulder he’d caught a glimpse of months ago. The memory of the sudden desire to touch, to taste washed over him. He knew about the feather tattooed on the inside of her left wrist and the flower tattooed just behind her right ear on her neck. She had told him it was simblemyne from Lord of the Rings when he had asked about it.

“God dammit,” he sighed heavily. He had never had a thing for tattoos on a woman before, hadn’t cared one way or another. But on Sam… Jesus Christ did he want to trace his tongue and fingers over each one. And he wondered if she had more.

He closed his eyes. “Get a grip, Stevens,” he growled. “It’s been a long week already, don’t make it any more difficult.”

He was a tired, cranky mess when he made it to the office a few hours later. Sleep had evaded him when he’d crawled back into bed, even with a full belly and a fourth glass of bourbon. How he wasn’t drunk before eight in the morning was a mystery to him, one he hoped to never have to repeat.

Thank god it was Friday.

Vincent damn near dropped his coffee when he opened the door to the office and spotted his assistant at the window with her back to the door wearing something she had never worn before.

She was dressed in a soft dove grey sweater dress, loose-fitting and hitting at mid-thigh, paired with black tights and knee-high grey boots. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the crown of her head, exposing that damned delectable simblemyne tattoo. He was accustomed to leggings paired with tee-shirts and flowy cardigans or sweaters, or fitted slacks and button-down blouses. But a dress? When he’d overheard her tell Linda she hated dresses?

She turned to face him when he pushed the door shut. “You’re…” She trailed off when she took in the bags under his eyes. “Vincent, are you okay?”

“My turn for a sleepless night,” he gave her a tired grin. “Don’t even think about sending me home, I’ve got to knuckle down on that damned park design if I’m going to present it next week to the city.”

“The one you’ve been struggling with?”

He snorted as he made his way to his office. “Landscaping is not my forte, Sam,” he admitted. “I wanted to branch out and now I’m sorely regretting it.”

“Maybe I could help?”

He stopped in the doorway separating the offices. Did I hear her correctly?

“Or not, don’t listen to me.”

He frowned when he caught the defeated tone in her voice. That’s not the Sam Monroe I know, he thought. “You want to do what I do,” he turned to face her. “You want to become an architect.”

She nodded. “It’s been a longtime dream of mine.”

“You know anything about landscaping?”

“A little,” she shrugged. “I designed a butterfly garden for Mom’s office building and worked with a group on a class project to design a memorial park at the university I attended.”

Vincent walked over to stand beside her. He took her shoulder in his free hand and turned her back to the window. “Remember the city block you pointed out the day I interviewed you?” He dropped his hand when he felt her shudder. Don’t overstep your boundaries, Stevens.

She looked up at him. “Yes.”

“This is no small butterfly garden or memorial park, Sam. This is something for families to enjoy together. Think Central Park, but smaller.”

“I’ve never been to New York,” she admitted quietly.

He gave her an incredulous look. “Next conference I go to in New York, you’re going with me.”

“That’s not necessary,” she shook her head, tearing her eyes from his. “What would I do in New York while you’re attending the conference?”

“Suffer through the boring crap with me, tour the architectural wonders, stroll through Central Park, eat at a five star restaurant and take in a show on Broadway.”

“If the conferences are boring, why bother going?"

"It’s good exposure,” Vincent shrugged. “You learn about new things, new areas of study and certification, new technology for designing blueprints.”

“I don’t see you using computer programs to design buildings,” she wrinkled her nose.

“There’s something magical about drawing up the designs by hand,” he tipped his head toward her. “Computers take the fun out of it. They make the mind weak by taking out all the guesswork and calculating everything for you. Don’t ever rely on those programs, Sam.”

She nodded.

“What’s my schedule like today?" He asked as he headed to his office.

"Site visit after lunch, Jennings Street apartment complex.”

“You ever visit a project site before?”

“No, sir.”

His coffee cup thunked onto his desk.

Sir.

She just had to call him “sir”.

He fumbled to keep the to-go cup from tipping over, inwardly cursing himself at the mental images popping into his head unbidden.

“Vincent?”

“You want to come with me this afternoon?”

He screwed his eyes shut and grimaced at his ill-worded question and husky tone, glad he still had his back to the door.

“I’m hardly dressed for a visit to a construction site.”

“What you’ve got on is fine, Monroe.”

More than fine, his brain added quite unhelpfully. Sexy. Gorgeous. Breathtaking.

“It’s fodder for construction workers,” there was that hesitation in her voice, a tone of self-doubt he’d never heard before.

“You’ll be with me the entire time, Sam, if anyone says anything out of line or looks at you wrong I will take care of it,” he turned to face her. “I won’t tolerate anyone crossing any lines with you.”

Her grey eyes widened behind her glasses. “I could always run home and change during my lunch break…”

“Sweetheart, it won’t matter,” he shook his head. “They’ll stare, they’ll say something, and I promise you they’ll get their asses handed to them.”

“I don’t want to cause any issues–”

He chuckled. “Oh, you will,” he hung up his jacket and dropped into his chair behind the desk. “Woman on a construction site usually does. Don’t let them get to you. Don’t pay them any mind, but if they say something put them in their place and tell me.”

Her brow furrowed. “Okay, but I’d feel more comfortable if I can go home to change.”

He could not argue with her point. “All right. I’m going to start working on that damned design in about fifteen minutes if you want to help.”

Sam smiled, “Thank you, Vincent.”

“I should be thanking you, Sam,” he smiled back.

Vincent looked up from noting a playground on the paper in front of him. “Koi pond?”

She nodded. “Kids love watching koi fish,” she frowned thoughtfully. “The nursing home where my grandpa was has a koi pond in front of the Hollywood wing. When they remodeled the vestibule they put in a section of ‘glass’ floor to watch the fish swim under it,” she hooked her fingers in air quotes. “It’s pretty neat, but they scare the hell out of me. Kenna still teases me about refusing to use the main entrance. Any time I went to see Grampa I had to be buzzed in from the patio.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling and to refrain from reassuring her those floors, if installed correctly, were perfectly safe. “You mentioned designing a butterfly garden earlier. What if we included one in the design?” He studied the rough layout he’d mocked up before sliding his hand along the paper to tap a blank area. “Maybe over here away from the playground.”

Sam caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled on it as she swiveled on the stool, angling her body toward him. “I was thinking of a pavilion around here, for outdoor weddings,” she murmured before immediately flinching. "If… If that’s okay with you?“

He frowned at the way she flinched like she was expecting to be slapped. "Jot it down,” he slowly reached across her to pick up her discarded pencil. “Sam, your ideas for this park are brilliant. I’ve been procrastinating on this for weeks, and here you’ve bounced several excellent suggestions off of me in…” he glanced at his watch as he straightened from his slouch over the drawing table, “three hours. Let’s take a break for lunch and come back to this after the site visit. How’s that sound?”

She looked up at him. “You really think my ideas are brilliant?”

Oh damn.

That shy smile bowing her lips tugged at his heart.

“No,” he shook his head. “I know they’re brilliant." He tapped the paper. "Make note of the other ideas you mentioned off to the side until we can figure out where to work them in. And for future reference, keep a notebook available to write down any ideas you might get at random times. Trust me, I’ve been in the damned grocery store more than once when a thought would pop into my head. You wouldn’t think a package of chicken breasts would inspire an arched entryway.”

Sam giggled at that as she jotted her ideas down. “And just how did they inspire it?”

He chuckled. “My kids were going to spend the weekend with me. Figured I’d get the ingredients for a couple of their favorite meals. Kinzie, my little girl, likes this chicken breast and asparagus dish. I was standing there, trying to remember what else I needed when it just popped into my head how she’d told me one time she wished her school had arched doorways like a castle does, and I realized that would be better for the preschool design I’d bid on.”

Sam twisted the stool to face Vincent, her eyes wide behind her black-framed glasses. “Please tell me you included a moat and a tower in the design.”

He laughed. “No, I didn’t, If Kinzie had her way it would’ve been an actual castle.”

“She sounds like she takes after you,” she tipped her head toward his Castle Grayskull blueprint on the wall.

“God, I hope she doesn’t,” he sighed heavily.

The last thing he needed was for either of his kids to follow in his damned footsteps.

He shook off that frightening thought before pasting on a tired smile for Sam’s benefit. “I’ll grab us some lunch so you don’t have to rush. Romeo’s sound good?”

“I’ve been wanting to try their cauliflower risotto and parmesan crusted chicken breast,” she nodded. “Would it be too much to ask for cheesecake? Their blackberry swirl cheesecake looks amazing.”

He smiled at the hopeful look in her grey eyes. “Anything else?”

She shook her head. “No, that’ll do me, Vin, thank you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest at that shortened version of his name. He watched her walk out of his office.

I’m in trouble.

#the loft #vincent stevens #karl urban #redemption #slow burn #romance

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lovemesomerafael · 4 years

Text

There For Each Other

This was my gift for LittleBlackSubmarine on AO3 for Barisi Gift Exchange 2019.

Rafael Barba sat in his office, feet up on his desk as always, looking at his phone. To all the world, he looked like he was working, which was the point. He wanted everyone to think he could just shake off his loss and go back to work without a backward glance.

He couldn’t. Not even close. Rafael was devastated. He often said that there is no such thing as a slam dunk case, but if there ever had been, this was it. And yet, at ten o’clock this morning when the jury had announced it had reached a verdict and everyone had hurried back to the courtroom, it was only to hear that the verdict was a staggering “Not Guilty” on every count. Every single fucking count.

The son of a bitch was probably sitting somewhere right now, having a celebratory cocktail and planning his next child rape. Rafael was the one who was supposed to be sitting somewhere with a celebratory cocktail. He and the SVU squad. Instead, they’d all given him their best “you did what you could” looks and slunk away, he was sure, to shake their heads and whisper to each other, wondering how he could have fucked up such an easy case.

No, Rafael wasn’t working. He was doing what he did in his darkest moments, when he most needed solace and comfort and to believe that life is good. He was scrolling through his wedding pictures. Once, in a tipsy, romantic moment of uncharacteristic self-revelation, he’d told Sonny he did this at such times, and Sonny had looked at him as if he’d put the stars in the sky. Of course, Sonny looked at him like that most of the time, but the knowledge that Rafael found in pictures of their wedding a safe harbor from even his deepest hurt had overwhelmed Sonny. He often thought it wasn’t possible to love Rafael more. Rafael constantly found ways to make him do it anyway.

Rafael contemplated the posed pictures taken by the photographer: the ones with just the two of them, with Sonny’s family, with Rafael’s family, Sonny and Rafael with just their parents. Then he looked at the candid ones taken during the wedding and at the reception. He saved his favorite for last. He always did.

His favorite picture of his and Sonny’s wedding was a picture taken by one of Rafael’s cousins. In it, Sonny and Rafael are standing in front of the priest, who is pronouncing them married. Although they couldn’t be married in the Church, despite both being lifelong Catholics, Sonny’s parish priest could marry them civilly, and he was happy to do it. The thing Rafael loved about this picture, the thing he could stare at forever, was the look on Sonny’s face as he held Rafael’s hands and gazed into his eyes. All of Sonny’s love was shining there for the world to see, making Sonny look like an angel glowing from within. Sonny said that Rafael was looking at him the same way, which he supposed was true, but he only cared how Sonny was looking at him. This picture, taken the very moment they were married, was proof positive of Sonny’s love for him, and Rafael needed that right now.

Rafael sighed and took a long drink of his coffee. He thought about the days before he and Sonny had found the courage to admit their feelings for one another. And then, for a moment, he was able to actually smile, thinking about the day that changed everything.

That day, he got a call from Olivia Benson, asking him to check on Carisi. Carisi had been beat up pretty good by a perp and the squad was still chasing down the perp’s accomplice. They hadn’t been able to spare someone to take Carisi to the hospital, although he’d promised to go. A uniformed cop had agreed to take him, and Olivia and the rest of the squad had been forced to accept that as good enough because they were hot on the heels of the accomplice. Something hadn’t sat right with Olivia – probably because she knew Carisi – and the first free moment she’d had, she’d checked with the uniform. Sure enough, Carisi had talked the uniform into skipping the hospital and driving him back to the precinct. Hence the call to Barba. The squad couldn’t be there to make Carisi go to the hospital, so Olivia had asked for his help.

Rafael hadn’t been happy about it. Why would he be? Yeah, Carisi was a good cop. He had enviable undercover and interrogation skills. But he treated Rafael like a teen idol. Carisi was eager and hungry to learn, he hung on Rafael’s every word, he challenged him when he felt confident enough, and he tried to impress Rafael at every opportunity. All of that was deeply annoying. Especially because Rafael was helplessly, painfully attracted to him.

Everything about Sonny Carisi was sexy. Every time he so much as picked up a pen, Rafael had to look at those long fingers and brutally crush the thoughts that roared into his head. The way Carisi moved his long limbs made Rafael think of being wrapped in those limbs every stinking time he saw Carisi, and it was an enormous pain in the ass. So he took every opportunity to insult Carisi, to treat him as though his being in law school was a joke and his every legal insight beneath contempt. But it didn’t work. It had never worked. Carisi was simply not willing to be insulted. It was as though he could see right through Rafael to the reason for his snark, and Rafael resented it. He resented it because it scared him, although he hadn’t known that then.

So when he had to take time out of his day to go over to the precinct and make Carisi behave like a responsible adult, he was cranky and ready to lay into him.

Until he saw him.

Carisi was sitting at his desk, jacket and tie thrown thoughtlessly across the chair next to it, holding a bloody cloth to the left side of his forehead and wincing as he squinted at his computer screen. He was pale and sweaty, obviously in pain. As soon as he saw Barba, he tried to relax his face, but it was too late. As Barba got closer, he noted the split, swollen lip and the cut underneath Carisi’s left eye, which had a gauze pad taped to it that appeared saturated with blood. Carisi would undoubtedly have a nice shiner in the morning. He was also favoring his right side.

Barba picked up his jacket and tie and said, simply, “Let’s go.”

Carisi tried to look innocent and confused, but Barba wasn’t having it. “You’re going to the hospital, and you have two choices. You can walk out of here with me right now, without any argument, or I can get a couple of these officers to cuff you and drag you out. Choice one, you can ride shotgun. Choice two, you’ll be in the trunk.”

“Who pissed in your corn flakes?” Carisi asked, looking back at his computer screen in a vain attempt to dismiss Barba.

“Cuffs and trunk it is.” Barba walked over to where three uniformed officers were talking near the coffee pots.

“What the hell, Barba? I’m fine. I don’t need-“

Barba ignored him and began to instruct the officers that Lieutenant Benson had given orders to take Detective Carisi to the hospital, however they had to get him there. Sonny, knowing when he was overmatched, sighed deeply, slammed his laptop closed, and stood. Instantly, the world went a dark, wobbly grey and his ears were filled with a low, dull whine that shut out all other sound. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on his desk chair with an officer on either side, and Barba kneeling in front of him, looking into his eyes.

Barba had one hand on Sonny’s right thigh, and the other was gently, tenderly pushing his hair back from his forehead.

“OK, just take a minute,” Barba said, in a voice so caring, Sonny would never have believed him capable of it. For a moment, they all just stayed like that while Barba stroked Sonny’s hair, and Sonny tried to bring the world back into focus.

“Do you want us to walk you out to my car, or do you think we should get you an ambulance?” Sonny thought that kind, patient voice was coming from Rafael Barba, but he was pretty sure that was a hallucination from the blows to his head. He really didn’t feel too good.

“I can walk.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to try. We’ll help you up.”

“Quit babyin’ me. I’m not hurt.”

“Quit lying to me. I’m not dumb.”

Sonny actually had to smile at that. Yeah, it was really Barba.

“A’right, maybe I could use a hand, just in case I get dizzy again.”

Barba got to his feet and stooped, putting an arm under each of Carisi’s so that he was basically hugging him, and helped him to his feet. A less dramatic version of the previous dizzy spell ensued, and Carisi leaned hard on Barba, who tightened his arms and just stood holding him until it passed.

“You’re sure you don’t want an ambulance?” Barba’s voice was low and soft, all concern.

“No. Please. I don’t wanna… Just let me lean on you.”

The slow walk to the elevator was surreal for both Carisi and Barba, because Barba had his shoulder under Carisi’s arm and his arm tightly around Carisi’s waist, and was holding Carisi’s hand to keep Carisi’s arm around his shoulders. When they reached the elevators, they stood there like that, Carisi leaning on Barba enough that Barba was fairly concerned. Nonetheless, he thanked the officers and told them that he could manage Carisi on his own.

In the elevator, they stayed holding each other, although Barba had Carisi braced against the wall. Rafael noticed that a streak of blood was now leaking from the gauze under Carisi’s eye. Without a thought, he picked the pocket square from his jacket, gently pulled the soaked gauze free, and pressed the lavender fabric to the cut. Jesus y Santa Maria. That was going to need some stitches. What had he been thinking, just going back to the precinct house?

They rode the elevator to the parking garage underneath the station. Fortunately, Barba had gotten lucky with parking and it wasn’t far from the elevator to his car. He helped Carisi all the way into the car and stayed with him until he was belted in before going around to the drivers’ side. Carisi leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know I got knocked in the head, but I don’t think that’s the proper response.”

Rafael bit down on his anger, and it was anger. Carisi was seriously hurt, and his need to be macho instead of taking care of things had probably cost him a scar on his face and God knew what kind of neurological damage that could have been avoided if he’d just gone to the hospital in the first place. A scar wasn’t such a big deal, but what if he had intracranial bleeding? And he was clearly protecting the right side of his chest. What if he had internal injuries? Broken ribs? What if he was really badly hurt? Rafael kept telling himself how stupid Carisi had been and how annoyed he, Rafael, was by this interruption in his day, which was looking like it would last a while. He worked hard to ignore the knowledge that what he was feeling was more than that.

When they got to the hospital, Barba barked at Carisi to stay in the car, then ran in and raised Cain until a number of Emergency Department personnel rushed out to help Carisi out of the car and onto a gurney. They whisked Carisi back into a treatment room, leaving Rafael standing near the reception desk feeling cast adrift. He looked around, having no idea what he was supposed to do now. All he knew was that he wasn’t leaving Carisi.

“Sir?” A woman wearing scrubs tried to get his attention.

“Yes.”

“If you’d like to give me your name and take a seat in the waiting room, I can let you know when you can see your, uh… husband? Boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Rafael snapped. It was easier than explaining, and it meant he’d have a better chance of getting information.

“Would you like to wait, or…?”

“Yes.” He gave the woman his name and commenced the longest, most tensely annoyed hour of his life. He sat in a ridiculously uncomfortable plastic chair with a television blaring inanity and a room full of adults ignoring the flock of children wreaking havoc and causing an intolerable amount of noise. After that hour, Rafael’s patience snapped. He stood, turned to where the pack of feral children were gathered, and snapped his fingers as loudly as he could. The powerful click had an instantaneous effect. Every child turned to him and froze, wide-eyed and ready to be scolded.

“Sit!” He snarled, and they did. From the corner of his eye, he caught the now-silent children shooting fearful looks at him while he worked his phone and tried not to grin.

Sonny was quickly stripped of everything but his underwear, and put into a clean, starched hospital gown. He felt like an utter jackass, but he had to admit his shirt and slacks were pretty badly stained with blood. After his nurse, a small, thin black man in rumpled scrubs, took his vital signs, Sonny settled down for what he was sure was going to be a long wait. He checked his phone. As expected, there were messages. Two were phone messages from Lieutenant Benson, and there were a bunch of texts from Dodds and Rollins. He decided his head would explode if he tried to deal with those, so he simply texted Rollins.

Sonny Carisi: Benson sent Barba to force me to go to the ER. Here now. All fine except Barba wants to kill me.

Sonny laid back and closed his eyes, knowing that Amanda would tell the rest of the team he was at the hospital and OK. Only a few seconds later, however, he heard his phone ping with a return text.

Amanda: Perp carjacked an old Asian guy who clocked him with a dead chicken. In pursuit now. Dodds driving like my grandma. This is what you miss when you get yourself beat up.

Amanda: Also don’t worry, Barba wants to kill everyone.

Sonny couldn’t help grinning. He would much rather have been in pursuit of the perp than here in a ridiculous getup cooling his heels. And he was sincerely sorry to have missed the old guy and the chicken.

The nurse and the doctor came in then, and the doctor began a thorough examination of all of Sonny’s injuries. She was a compact blonde with short, frizzy hair, and looked very young. The nurse stood by with a computer tablet, typing in what the doctor told him about her findings.

“By the way,” the nurse said, “your boyfriend is in the waiting room. We’ll let him know when he can come back and see you.”

“My…”

The doctor began shining a light in Sonny’s eyes and he decided it wasn’t worth correcting them.

At last, a man Rafael assumed was Carisi’s nurse called his name, and led him through a set of large wooden doors on automatic hinges and down a hall to the treatment room where Carisi, now properly bandaged and wearing a hospital gown rather than his bloody shirt, lay sleepily on the gurney.

The nurse explained that the doctor would be in momentarily to give them discharge instructions. He left them alone and Rafael turned to Carisi, asking none too gently, “So? How bad is it?”

“I got a concussion and ten stitches. Few bruised ribs, nothing broken.”

Rafael made himself ask, “How do you feel?”

“Sore and sick, and kinda stupid. I’m sure I’m gonna get a lecture from the Lieu.”

“You’re gonna get a lecture from me. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I have a job to do, and I’d appreciate it if you’d back off, all right? I’m really not in the mood for your shit.”

Rafael started. He’d never heard Carisi swear, let alone snap at him. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure how to feel. He wanted to be irritated, but this was so uncharacteristic of Carisi that, instead, he was back to being worried.

Moments later, the doctor hurried into the room, tablet computer in hand. Rafael thought she looked like a child and instantly wanted to ask to see her credentials and her drivers’ license. He settled for the fact that her white jacket said “M.D.” after her name, but only because he just wanted to get out of here, take Carisi home, and get back to work.

The doctor shook Rafael’s hand quickly and perfunctorily before getting back to her tablet. “I’m willing to discharge you, Mr. Carisi, since you’re so determined, but I want to tell you again that I strongly recommend you let us keep you overnight for observation.”

“No.”

Rafael had never heard Carisi sound quite so… final.

“Right. So here’s the deal. You need to take it easy for the next forty-eight hours. And by ‘easy’, I mean bedrest. You have a pretty good concussion. As for the rest, you’re gonna feel worse before you feel better; those bruises are just the beginning. I’m sending you home with something for the pain, but you also need to get a good soak in a hot bath with Epsom salts tonight, and again each day until you start to feel less sore. No work, Detective. I mean it. Desk duty for at least a week, but not for the next two days. For the next two days you’re in bed.”

Appearances can be deceiving, Rafael thought. This “child” had some teeth. But she wasn’t through.

“I happen to know your Lieutenant; she’s been the responding detective for some assault victims I’ve treated. I’ve already called her. So don’t bother trying to go in to the precinct.” She turned to Rafael. “You’re gonna need to keep a close eye on him for the next twenty-four hours. If he gets nauseous, if you’re not able to wake him up, if he has a severe headache, or if his pupils are different sizes, I want you to bring him right back here.”

“But-“

“If you have to sit on him to keep him in bed, do it.”

“No, you don’t understand-“

“All right. Here are the care instructions.” She handed a sheaf of papers to Rafael. “Your boyfriend is a very stubborn man, and he really ought to stay here overnight. So you need to be smarter than he is and make him follow instructions. Any questions?”

“I-“

“All right. You can help him get dressed and the nurse will be in with his discharge papers in a few minutes.” With that, the doctor swept from the room.

“I don’t have a bathtub.”

Rafael slowly, disbelievingly turned to face Carisi, who lay on the gurney with his eyes closed, a hand to his forehead. “What?”

“I can’t take baths, I don’t have a bathtub.”

Rafael squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This isn’t happening. “Where are your clothes?”

Carisi opened his eyes and sat up, swinging his impossibly long legs over the edge of the gurney. “I got it,” he sighed.

Rafael watched as Carisi immediately regretted sitting up so fast, and grasped the edge of the gurney for support. “Right.”

He looked around, saw Carisi’s clothes on a chair on the other side of the room and went to pick them up.

“I can dress myself,” Carisi grouched. “I don’t need your help.”

“Detective, I do not have time for pretty much any of this.” He laid the clothes down next to Carisi and picked up his shirt. “So just shut up and take off that hospital gown. Let’s get this over with.”

When Carisi untied the gown and pulled it down his arms, Barba got his first look at the deep red bruise covering half the right side of his chest. He sucked in his breath. “Dios mio!”

Carisi said nothing, just reached out for his shirt, which Barba didn’t hand him. Instead, he held it out so that Carisi could slip his arm in the sleeve, and then pulled it around him and held it so he could slide his other arm in. He let Carisi deal with the buttons, since that didn’t involve any effort, then held his pants down near his feet so he could slide his legs in. Rafael was grateful that he hadn’t found Carisi’s underwear in the pile of clothes. He really didn’t want to have to deal with helping him with that. It was bad enough having to pull his slacks up those ridiculous legs – which actually were more muscular than Rafael had expected, now that he saw them uncovered – until Carisi could reach them, pull them the rest of the way up and deal with his own zipper and belt.

Barba had to put Carisi’s socks on for him. Carisi started to complain, but Barba just gave him a withering scowl and said, “You really want to bend down right now? How’s that going to feel on your head or your chest?”

Sonny frowned and rolled his eyes, but let Barba put on his socks and shoes. He felt like a damn baby, and he didn’t like it at all. He felt so shitty, though, that he just wanted to get home to bed, and if he had to endure this humiliation to get there, so be it.

The nurse came in with discharge papers, which he gave to Barba, and made Carisi get into a wheelchair. Again Carisi started to complain. Again, Barba was having none of it. “Sit your ass down, Detective. You want out of here, or not?”

At long last, they were in Barba’s car and away from the hospital. Carisi leaned his head back against the headrest again, with his eyes closed, as Barba drove to the nearest drug store to pick up the list of things Carisi needed: bandages, antibiotic ointment, and Epsom salts, among other things. Carisi stirred when the car stopped, but Barba simply grumbled, “Sit. I got it.”

Back with the supplies, Barba drove to his apartment. Carisi, eyes closed, hadn’t noticed until he felt the car angle down into the garage below Barba’s building.

“Where are we?” He mumbled.

“My building.”

“Why?”

“You don’t have a damn bathtub.”

“No, I-“

“Shut up.” Barba got out of the car and took the bag of drug store supplies from the back seat. He was around to the passenger side before Carisi had the door open.

“Just take me home. I’ll call my Ma, she’ll-“

“She’ll let you walk all over her and tell her you’re fine and she won’t make you go back to the hospital if you get worse. She also can’t manufacture a bathtub. I don’t like this any more than you do, Carisi, but this is what’s happening, so let’s do this. Let me get an arm under you…”

Sonny felt like crap, he really did. He was sore, he was a little woozy from the pain meds, and he had a bitch of a headache. He figured the quickest way to be able to just lay down and sleep was to go along with Barba. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could have made Barba take him home even if he was at his best, and he sure the hell wasn’t at his best right now. He would never admit it, but he also was a little glad that Barba was here. His Ma would fuss and worry and he’d end up having to try to make her feel better about his being hurt. Barba would just put him in bed and forget him, which is what he wanted right now. Another time, the idea of Barba putting him to bed might have been extremely interesting, but right now, he found the bed part more enticing than the Barba part.

He let Barba help him gingerly exit the car, and obediently kept his arm around Barba’s shoulders as they made their way to the elevator. Sonny wished he didn’t feel so lousy, or he’d have enjoyed the hell out of walking with his arm around Barba.

Once inside Barba’s apartment, he woke up a little. Hurt or not, Sonny wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to see where Barba lived. He was surprised. He’d expected an expensively decorated, immaculate lair, something like Barba’s suits in the form of an apartment. Instead, it was a home. The furniture was more upscale than Carisi’s own, but it was built for comfort more than style, and the décor was more Better Homes & Gardens than Architectural Digest. Sonny liked it. It felt comfortable. It looked lived-in, too, with a few books and magazines scattered around, a used coffee mug and plate full of crumbs on the wide ottoman in front of the couch, and other signs of casual habitation. He liked that it wasn’t pristine. It made Barba seem more human.

Barba had led him to his couch and instructed him to rest while he took care of some things. A while later, Sonny was surprised to see him come back into his living room in shirtsleeves with his tie gone and a few shirt buttons undone. Sonny had apparently dozed a bit.

“OK, it’s ready. Come on,” Barba said, leaning down to put an arm behind Sonny to help him up.

Sonny expected Barba to lead him to a guest room, but instead he was led into Barba’s own room, where Sonny could hear water running in the adjoining bathroom. He was surprised to find that Barba had run a bath in a surprisingly large and deep bathtub. The steam in the room told him that the water was hot, and he could see a good-sized bag of Epsom salts on the floor next to the tub. There were fluffy-looking towels and a tan terry-cloth robe laid out on the counter.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“According to your doctor, I did. Shut up and unbutton your shirt.”

“Are you… I’m not…”

“Carisi? Just don’t, all right? Do what I say.”

Despite how he felt, Sonny grinned at that. Strangely, he appreciated Barba’s cranky bedside manner. He liked it a lot better than his Ma’s fussing, and he also knew, from the way Barba had spoken to him when he’d almost passed out at the precinct and the effort he was making now, that it was more or less a front. Just like pretending he didn’t enjoy Sonny’s hero-worship of him or recognize when Sonny made a good legal point.

But this was about to get awkward. He could probably get his clothes off, but he was none too steady on his feet, and he wasn’t sure about getting into and out of the bathtub. Still, a hot bath sounded so good to him right now; a soak of his sore chest muscles and the rest of the aches and bruises from the fight would be wonderful. He obediently pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his pants and unbuttoned it. Barba moved behind him and pulled it off his arms from the back. Sonny had to admit, that would’ve been hard to do without him. He worked off his shoes without untying them, but only to delay the inevitable. He decided to pretend he was in a locker room. He’d just undress, and let Barba deal with it however he was going to.

Rafael dealt with it by pretending it was the most normal thing in the world to have Sonny Carisi standing in his bathroom, shucking his pants. He leaned down and pulled his slacks, including underwear this time, off his feet while Carisi leaned on him for balance. He pulled Carisi’s socks off at the same time.

Both pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, Barba supported Carisi while he stepped gingerly into the bathtub and slowly, carefully eased himself down into the almost too hot water. Both wished there were bubbles or something to cover Carisi’s nakedness, but neither gave any outward sign. Once Carisi was lying back in the tub, Barba stood back and repositioned the towels for somewhere to focus his attention.

“I’m making you some chamomile tea,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Call me if you need something. I’ll hear you.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Sonny answered, eyes closed. He was glad Barba was leaving the room, not only because of the discomfort of such a strange situation, but also because the bath felt fabulous and he wanted to luxuriate in it for a while by himself. He looked down at his chest. The bruise had darkened even from earlier at the hospital, and was now a dark purple. He reached up and touched the bandage over the stitched cut on his face. It was tender, but not too bad. His split lip hurt worse.

What the fuck am I doing? Rafael felt as dazed as Carisi was. Carisi. Who was, at this moment, buck naked in Rafael’s bathtub. He didn’t know what else he could possibly have done, but this situation was bizarre, and Rafael had absolutely no idea how to feel. He’d been too focused on Carisi’s safety to have any embarrassing reaction to his nudity, but Rafael had looked. Of course he’d looked. And now he had that in his head. He filled his tea kettle and tried to figure out how he was going to get through the next forty-eight hours.

Ten minutes later, Rafael returned with a steaming mug of tea, which he set next to Carisi on the edge of the tub. He studiously avoided looking anywhere but Carisi’s face. “You need anything else?”

“No. I’m good.”

“All right. I’m going to be in the next room, so just call out if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll be back in half an hour to help you out. OK?”

“OK.”

Rafael gratefully headed toward the door. He was just about to close it behind him when he heard Carisi mumble, “Thank you.”

“You’re an idiot,” he responded, the kindness and humor in his voice belying the words. He heard Carisi chuckle as he closed the door.

Half an hour later, Barba had changed the sheets on his bed and was knocking quietly on the door to the bathroom. “You ready to get out?”

“I guess.”

Carisi was already pushing himself to a standing position using the sides of the bathtub by the time Barba got there, so he grabbed a towel and handed it to Carisi when he was on his feet. Carisi was able to hold it strategically while Barba helped him over the side of the tub and onto the bath mat. The purpose of the terry cloth robe was so that Barba didn’t have to help Carisi dry himself off. Some things were just not possible. He simply held the robe behind Carisi and helped him slide his arms into it. All Barba had to do was dry Carisi’s feet and lower legs for him.

Ten minutes later, Sonny was snugly settled in Barba’s bed. It was shockingly comfortable – apparently, Barba had expensive taste in sheets as well as clothing – and after the hot bath, Sonny found himself feeling very sleepy.

“Call if you need something,” Barba said in that tender, gentle voice he’d used earlier at the precinct. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time for more pain medicine.”

“But if I’m asleep…”

Barba stopped halfway to the door and turned around. “Don’t argue with me. Anyway, I have to make sure I can wake you up, remember?”

“Whatever. Good night.” Carisi turned painfully on his left side and settled further under the covers.

“Good night.”

“Hey… Barba?”

“Don’t thank me any more,” Barba grouched from the doorway.

“No… I was just gonna ask, why are you doin’ this?”

“I have no earthly idea,” Barba sighed. “Go to sleep.”

Sonny was shocked to be awakened by Rafael Barba, and to find himself in Barba’s bed wearing nothing but Barba’s robe. He was also shocked at how bad his head and chest hurt. He took the pills Barba gave him and asked what time it was.

“It’s five thirty. Do you want me to make you something for dinner?”

“I… That’s nice of you, but I’m really not hungry. I think I’d just like to sleep.”

“If you change your mind later, I can always make something then.”

“Thank-“

“Don’t say it.”

The doorbell was a surprise. Rafael was trying to do the work he hadn’t been able to get to while he was with Carisi at the hospital, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He sighed and went reluctantly to look out his peephole, and was annoyed to see Amanda Rollins and Mike Dodds at his door. Fuck. Not only had Carisi blown up his workday and taken over his bed, now he was having houseguests.

“What can I do for you?” Rafael’s tone was intentionally aloof and irritated. He really hoped he wasn’t expected to let them in.

“The Lieutenant said that Carisi was here,” Dodds said, trying to look past Rafael.

Rollins asked, “Can we see him?”

“He’s asleep. He has a concussion, Detective, which is not a condition that’s helped by entertaining guests.”

Was that a smirk she was hiding? “We’re not guests, Barba. We’re family. Can I just peek in on him? He’s my partner. I’ve been really worried all day.”

“You get the guy?” Rafael asked, as though it was a condition for being allowed in.

“Yeah,” Dodds answered, standing expectantly and crowding the doorway. “Benson and Fin are finishing the paperwork now.”

Rafael sighed. They weren’t going away. Well, if they expected refreshments, they were going to be sorely disappointed.

“Fine. Rollins, you can just peek in on him, but don’t wake him up. I just gave him some more pain pills an hour ago and he said he wants to sleep.”

Amanda beamed a sweet smile at him, and all but pushed past him into his apartment. She was hungrily eyeing everything, as though absorbing all the details of Barba’s apartment so she could remember it. Which was, of course, exactly what she was doing.

“Door at the end of the hall.”

Rafael briefly considered closing the door and making Dodds wait in the hallway, but he actually didn’t mind Dodds much, so he waved him in and shut the door. While Rollins was looking in on Carisi, Dodds filled Barba in on the events of the day. By the time he was done, and had gotten the details of Carisi’s injuries from Barba, Rollins was back.

“He’s really out.”

“I believe that’s what I said,” Barba muttered.

Again, he could swear that Rollins was smothering a grin. “Well, thank you for letting me look in on him,” she said, with all the sweetness she could muster. “It looks like you’re taking really good care of him.”

“I’m not… It was not my idea or my intention to take care of your partner, Detective. Someone had to keep an eye on his condition, because he refused to stay in the hospital.”

“Of course,” she agreed.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Rafael said, dismissing them as he opened his apartment door.

Dodds and Rollins managed not to make eye contact, which neither of them would have been able to do without laughing, as they shuffled out into the hallway.

“Let us know if he needs anything,” Dodds said.

Barba made a noncommittal sound as he closed the door behind them.

Dodds and Rollins made it to the stairway before they started laughing.

“I’m so gonna win,” Rollins said.

“No, you’re not. He’s pissed as hell. There’s no way they screw.”

“Says you. I’m already spendin’ that fifty bucks you’re gonna owe me when they do.”

“Not happening. You’re gonna owe me.”

“Barba is not actually gonna murder Carisi.”

“That’s not the bet. Any physical injury and I win. That’s the bet.”

The next time Sonny awoke, it was dark and he could hear Barba moving around in the room.

“What time is it,” Sonny croaked.

“After ten. It’s time for some more pain medicine, if you want it.”

“I think so.”

Barba came over to the side of the bed and turned on the lamp on the table. He shook two pills from the bottle and helped Sonny sit up to take them. Barba was wearing a scruffy Harvard T-shirt and thin, old-looking sweatpants. Sonny was amused to see him in something more casual than he would ever have guessed Barba owned.

“Dodds and Rollins stopped by. They’re worried about you. And I talked to Liv. She thinks I should be canonized for taking care of you.”

“You’d make a lousy saint.”

“Don’t I know it. You need anything else?”

“No, I’m good.”

Barba turned out the light and, to Sonny’s amazement, he felt the mattress move as Barba got in with him. It was a king-sized bed, but it still felt stunningly intimate to be sharing it. Somehow, he must have communicated his surprise to Barba.

“If I had a guest room, Detective, you’d be in it. Only reason you’re not on the couch is you’re too long for it. Which, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t think twice about, but you’re hurt. And I’m not giving up my bed for anyone.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Good. Don’t. And one more thing. Snore, and you’re on the fire escape in a sleeping bag, hurt or not.”

It was a long time before either of them fell asleep, although they both laid still and silent as though unconscious instantly.

Rafael awakened early, roused from sleep by the unusual sensation of someone else in his bed. He suddenly remembered that it was Carisi, of all people on the planet, and he wanted to jump up immediately. Something made him hesitate, though. He could hear from Carisi’s deep, even breathing that he was still asleep, and Rafael couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to look over at him.

Carisi was facing him, face quiet and peaceful, hair an adorable mess. He was so damn cute Rafael felt himself smile and, for many minutes, he simply lay there and watched Carisi sleep. His eye was fully blackened now, but it was impossible to tell how swollen it was until he tried to open it. Right this minute, Rafael didn’t want him to do that. He just wanted to enjoy the delicious novelty of the outlandish, never-to-be-repeated experience of waking up in bed with Sonny Carisi. Pretty, goofy, unexpectedly brilliant, lovable Sonny Carisi. On that note, Rafael slipped out of bed and got dressed before he could make a fool of himself.

By the time Sonny woke up, Barba was already out of bed. Sonny had been intensely curious to see what Barba looked like in the morning, but when Barba came into the bedroom to offer Sonny a cup of coffee, Sonny wasn’t surprised to find him already fully dressed. Somehow, he’d known Barba wouldn’t let himself be that vulnerable, bed-sharing or not. Barba made another trip into the kitchen and returned with a plate filled with eggs, bacon, and toast, which he helped Sonny sit up to eat.

Sonny was more sore than he’d been the night before. The problem was, he couldn’t sleep anymore. The good news was that he could now get up and walk without dizziness. Thankfully, that meant he was able to navigate getting into and out of the bath himself. He took another long, hot soak in the Epsom salts and felt much better.

Barba wouldn’t let him do anything afterwards, but at least he let him get up to the couch so he could watch television. Surprisingly, Barba had every movie channel and streaming service known to man. He didn’t seem like much of a TV watcher, and when Sonny asked about it, he confirmed that he wasn’t. He said that, when he did want to watch something, he could never find anything worth watching, so he liked a lot of choices. Which sounded so much like Barba that Sonny believed him.

Rafael was working from home so he could make sure Carisi obeyed the doctor’s orders. He was very grateful Carisi could now bathe on his own, because Rafael needed no repeat of the day before. Today he wasn’t sure he’d be able to be as clinical as he’d been last evening. Carisi was wearing a pair of his shorts, because none of his pants would have come close to being long enough, with a T-shirt and a hoodie Rafael had forgotten he even owned. It was cute enough to see him wearing Rafael’s clothes, but it was Carisi’s hair, free of gel and falling over his forehead, that was doing things to Rafael’s insides. He couldn’t even be as surly as he intended to because he was so tempted to reach out and run his hands through it.

Sonny was having similar problems. He felt better after a long, hot soak in a bath liberally laced with Epsom salts and a couple of pain pills, which left him free to pay attention to other bodily sensations. One of them was the simmering heat he was starting to feel being here with Barba. Sonny watched him, sitting at the heavy, carved-wood table in his dining area and concentrating on his laptop. Barba was really ridiculously handsome. His thick, dark hair and deep green eyes were a lethal combination, and seeing him here in his home, wearing jeans and a soft-looking pullover, made Sonny realize just how attracted he was to Barba.

Barba must have felt Sonny’s eyes on him. He looked up. “You need something?” He looked at his watch. “Oh, it’s time for pain medicine.”

Barba got up and went into this bedroom, returning with the bottle of pills. He handed them to Carisi and went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. When Carisi had taken the pills, Barba sat on the edge of the large ottoman in front of the couch. “I want to take a look at that eye and that cut,” he explained, seeming a bit flustered.

He looked at the black eye, swollen about halfway shut, the split lip, and the stitched cut on Carisi’s cheek that no longer had a bandage on it after Carisi’s bath. It was longer than Barba had realized. “Is that going to leave a scar?” He asked softly.

“Doctor says maybe a slight one, won’t be noticeable unless you’re lookin’ for it.” Carisi was speaking a little softly, too. Was something… happening between them?

“Let’s see that bruise,” Barba said.

Sonny sat up a little more and lowered the blanket covering him, pulling up his T-shirt to expose the now fully-developed bruise. It covered more than half the right side of his chest and it was a dark, almost black color, deeper in the middle but still a mottled black on the edges. Rafael swore in Spanish and, without a thought, reached out and tenderly touched it with just the tips of his fingers, ever-so-lightly stroking across it.

The effect on Sonny was instant. He had never before experienced a hot flash and goosebumps simultaneously, but he did then, and he felt that touch deep in his groin. He hissed in his breath, causing Barba to snatch his hand back from Sonny’s chest. He looked into Sonny’s eyes.

“Did I hurt you?”

For a second, long enough to realize it was happening, Sonny just looked into Barba’s lovely green eyes. He shook his head slightly. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I…” Barba began, in that quiet, caring voice Sonny still couldn’t believe existed. “That looks painful.”

“The meds help. The baths, too.” Their eyes were still locked. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am grateful to you for everything. Thanks for bein’ there for me.”

“You’re welcome, Sonny.”

Barba had never once called him Sonny. He hadn’t yet recovered from the touch, he absolutely couldn’t look away, and now Barba had called him Sonny. He felt a rush of heat through his body, which pooled down low, coupled with a surge of lightning through his gut. “You’re nicer than you want people to know.”

“No, I’m not. I just… You’re hurt.” Rafael looked down, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he could, and he really didn’t want to. That was want he was seeing in Carisi’s eyes. Even with the one being swollen, Barba knew it as well as he knew his own name.

“You like me more than you want people to know, too,” Carisi murmured.

“Do you… I could make you lunch.”

“I don’t want lunch,” Sonny said, and now his voice carried as much want as his eyes did. He had never seen Barba look like this: soft, vulnerable. Interested.

“What do you want?”

Sonny swallowed. He knew he was going to do it. Terrified of the outcome as he suddenly was, he was more afraid of letting this moment pass. “I want you to kiss me.”

Barba’s eyes were back on his. He frowned a little. “I don’t think… I…”

As Sonny listened to Barba stammer and grope for words for the first time since he’d known him, he knew that he wasn’t misreading anything about this situation. So he reached out and took one of Barba’s hands in his. “Just kiss me.”

Rafael was disconcerted. Where had this come from? All he’d meant to do was check on Carisi’s wounds, but suddenly he’d been pulled in by those insanely blue eyes of Carisi’s, and his soft hair falling over his forehead rather than carefully arranged, making him look younger and more vulnerable…

He felt himself letting Carisi pull him toward the couch, felt himself shifting his weight and pivoting on his feet so he was sitting next to Carisi, felt himself reach up with one finger to touch Carisi’s split lip. “Your lip is cut.”

“My lip is fine,” Carisi whispered, sliding his arm behind Rafael and using his other hand to softly touch Rafael’s jaw with his fingers and gently, almost imperceptibly urge him closer. “Kiss me.”

Rafael tried to be gentle when Carisi leaned in and touched his lips to Rafael’s. It felt like the right thing to do, not only because of Carisi’s injury but also because he felt extremely wary about what was happening. This was Sonny Carisi. This was the man he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for months. This was… Rafael’s thoughts began to muddle.

Carisi’s lips felt as good as they looked. Rafael cradled Carisi’s uninjured cheek as Carisi, perhaps trying to show him that his lip wasn’t too injured for this, pressed his mouth harder to Rafael’s. The kiss was perfect. Carisi clearly knew what he was doing – his lips were firm, with just the right amount of moisture and the slightest hint of things to come. Rafael’s body forgot his surprise at Carisi asking to be kissed, and began to respond to the kiss, instead. He felt and heard himself utter a soft moan, at which Carisi teased his lower lip with a tiny flick of his tongue.

Rafael’s groin filled with tense, delicious heat as he relaxed his mouth just a bit and felt Carisi take advantage of his receptive softening to lick a definite request across the slight part between his lips. Rafael moaned again, just a bit louder, and opened his mouth. Sonny actually tasted sweet. Of course, his kisses had a delicious hint of coffee in them, but Rafael decided he was not imagining the delicate, honey-like tang that made him want to get as close as possible.

Sonny couldn’t believe what was happening. He was as stunned as Barba was that he’d asked Barba to kiss him, and now… He should have known Barba would be as practiced and adept at kissing as he was at everything he did. Sonny had known how Barba would taste, the thousand times he’d imagined this moment. He had no idea how he’d known, but he had, and he didn’t try to resist the impulse to dare using his tongue. When Barba moaned and moved closer, welcoming Sonny’s intrusion, Sonny felt a surge of heat and a rush of want.

The next long while was filled with exploration. They used their lips and tongues and hands to begin to explore one another physically, but they were also exploring this tentative connection they had acknowledged. They’d both been thinking about this, but neither of them had ever expected it to actually happen. Now that it was happening, now that they were here, kissing each other and getting increasingly bolder with their caresses, it felt different than either had considered. Rafael’s unexpected kindness and Sonny’s unexpected boldness had changed things between them in a subtle but permanent way.

“Sonny…” Rafael tried to think rationally, although he was panting with desire – they both were – and having trouble holding back from taking things further.

“Hmmmm?” Sonny began kissing Rafael’s neck, which did nothing to help him focus.

“We need to stop.”

Sonny wouldn’t have been Sonny had he not instantly, though very reluctantly, lifted his lips from Rafael’s warm, delicious skin. Rafael wasn’t wearing anything scented, and he smelled almost wickedly good, like warm vanilla with a hint of musky spice. Sonny wanted to lick him, and he’d been about to when Rafael uttered the magic word.

“Stop?” Sonny gasped.

“You’re hurt.” Rafael pulled back to look at Sonny, although they kept their arms around one another. His look was questioning, searching Sonny’s face for clues to how he was feeling, both physically and emotionally. “You have a concussion, you shouldn’t be… exerting yourself.”

“I’m not, yet. But I want to.” Sonny’s grin was definitely carnal, but also sweetly inviting in a way that made it nearly impossible for Rafael not to pull him back for more serious necking.

“But it could be dangerous. I mean, blood pressure, and elevated heart rate…” Rafael forgot what he was going to say because Sonny’s wide smile and twinkling eyes sucked the breath right from his body.

“Rafael, I can tell you that my blood pressure and heart rate are definitely elevated, and I feel great. You feel great, too,” he said, moving closer so he could resume sliding his hand over Rafael’s chest. He leaned in and kissed Rafael. “I know it would probably hurt to do what I really want to do with you, but… I promise you, I’m fine.”

“I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you worse.”

“I know.” Sonny dipped his head to catch Rafael’s gaze. “I know that. But I don’t want to stop.”

Rafael hesitated. “I don’t, either,” he whispered, his lips close to Sonny’s again. “I think I have an idea.”

Sonny felt some very pleasant twitching at the tone of Rafael’s voice.

“Let’s lay you down.”

Sonny was the one who hesitated then. “Take me to bed.”

“Even better.”

When Rafael had Sonny stretched out in his bed, he languidly, lovingly explored all the non-injured parts of his face, neck, and chest with his hands and mouth, sliding his shirt from Sonny’s body along the way. Sonny tried to be an active participant, but Rafael murmured, “You’re so pretty, Sonny. Let me just enjoy you…”

“You worried about my blood pressure?” Sonny whispered.

“No. Mine.” Rafael chuckled into Sonny’s neck as he teased Sonny with his hands, stroking closer and closer to his rigid cock.

Sonny groaned and moved his hips, urging Rafael to touch him. Rafael slid his hand over Sonny’s crotch, lightly, and Sonny arched up into his hand. It was all Rafael could do not to clasp him through his shorts, feeling that his dirty imagination had been delightfully accurate. Instead, he slid his hand softly back up Sonny’s shaft, barely touching, to dip it below his waistband and finally touch him, sliding his fingers across the sensitive, leaking tip and listening to Sonny’s erotic moan in response. He took Sonny in his hand, letting his fingers explore and lightly stroke.

“Fuck, Rafael… Oh, shit that feels good…”

“Is anything hurting? Your headache’s not worse, or…?”

“I feel amazing. You feel amazing.” Sonny captured Rafael’s mouth and kissed him thoroughly while Rafael began a slow rhythm up and down Sonny’s shaft. “I imagined bein’ with you like this, Rafael, but I never coulda imagined how good a kisser you are…”

“I want to taste you. Will you let me put my mouth on you?”

“Fuck, yeah… anything you want,” Sonny gasped.

Rafael’s laugh was soft and sinful. “Be careful what you promise me, Detective. For today, just relax and let me take care of you.”

“Oh… shit… Rafael…”

Sonny thought he’d received some good head in his life. But when Rafael slid his shorts past his hips and down his legs, tossing them away without a thought, and began to lick his way around Sonny’s head, he knew he was in for something extraordinary. With supreme skill and attention to detail, Rafael delicately fingered Sonny’s balls and licked up, down, and around his cock for a long time before taking it into his hot, wet mouth. Sonny felt a fairly significant twinge of pain from his chest as he nearly came off the bed. Rafael was doing something wickedly stimulating with his tongue while he exerted just the right amount of suction as he slowly raised and lowered his mouth on Sonny.

Sonny lost all sense of the sounds he was making, but Rafael heard every one. He wasn’t going to last very long; hearing Sonny Carisi utter those helpless groans and words of ecstasy was so hot he couldn’t help but rub his own cock against the sheets. He looked up at gorgeous, wrecked Sonny, sheets fisted in his hands and a sheen of sweat across his forehead, rocking his hips to fuck Rafael’s mouth, and had to slow the pumping of his own hips so he didn’t come before Sonny did.

Rafael enjoyed long moments, tasting Sonny and reveling in pleasuring his pretty dick, until, with a strangled cry, Sonny erupted into Rafael’s waiting throat. Sonny shouted, then groaned, then practically whimpered as Rafael mouthed him through his orgasm. At the same time, Rafael rubbed himself against the sheets until he, too, came hard, aroused beyond control by the sounds of Sonny’s pleasure.

It was many minutes before Rafael regained enough breath and strength to crawl up the bed and take Sonny gently in his arms. It was a month before Sonny was healed enough for Rafael to stop trying to protect him when they made love. It was about six months before Rafael and Sonny realized they’d fallen deeply and permanently in love, and another six months before Rafael found the courage to risk it all by asking Sonny to marry him. (Sonny always pointed out that it took him less than a second to enthusiastically and joyfully accept Rafael’s proposal.) A year after that, Rafael’s cousin took his favorite wedding picture, the moment they were married.

Rafael was pulled from his reverie by the sound of his phone and the appearance on his screen of a laughing, smiling picture of Sonny that always gave Rafael’s heart a tug. He really, really didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want Sonny to know how bad he’d screwed up the trial or that, because of him, a child rapist was even now out on the streets. For the first time ever, he wanted to hide in shame from his husband. He pushed the button anyway.

“I love you,” Sonny’s voice came through, even though Rafael hadn’t yet mustered the courage to say hello.

“Maybe if you’re really quiet about it, no one will hold it against you.”

“I’m sorry, Babe. I’m really sorry. We knew goin’ in that Judge Callaghan was gonna be a problem.”

“I should’ve been able to convince her. I know how she thinks. I fucked up.”

To Sonny, who knew him as well as anyone ever had, it was clear how unnerved and saddened Rafael really was. He hated hearing him like that, hurting and directing anger at himself. Hated it so much, in fact, that he made an instant decision. “I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Come home.”

“Aren’t you in the office?”

“Yeah, I am, and I’m leaving as we speak. I’m coming to get you and I’m taking you home.”

“Sonny-“

“Don’t argue with me. Put on your coat and tell Carmen you’ll be gone for the rest of the day.”

“No, look-“

“Rafael. Do this for me. I’ll be there in five.” Sonny hung up before Rafael could argue. He knew perfectly well he’d never convince Rafael to take time for himself, and he also knew that in the four years they’d been together, Rafael had never once refused him anything he’d asked for. He said he couldn’t. Miraculous as it was to think that Rafael Barba was that helplessly in love with him, Sonny believed it.

Rafael sat for a few moments, staring at his phone as the screen went blank. He wanted to call Sonny back and tell him he wasn’t going to crawl home in the middle of the day like a beaten dog. He wasn’t feeling too good about things right this minute, but he’d be damned if he-

“Mr. Barba?” Carmen wrapped her torso around the door and stuck her head in. “I just got a call from Susan. I’m supposed to cancel your afternoon. I just wanted you to know I’m on it.”

“Since when do you take instructions from Susan?” Rafael snapped.

“I don’t. I take them from Mr. Carisi. Your afternoon’s cancelled.” Carmen disappeared as fast as she had appeared, but not before Rafael caught the briefest glimpse of that look. The one that told him Carmen had spoken and resistance was futile. So Sonny, a Junior ADA, tells his assistant to cancel his appointments, his assistant tells Carmen to cancel Rafael’s, and Carmen tells Rafael they’re cancelled? Is that how it worked now? When had he become so low on the chain of command over his life?

“What if I don’t want my afternoon cancelled?” He shouted after her, grinning despite himself.

“Mr. Carisi does. It’s cancelled.”

“I outrank him.”

“Not in real life, you don’t.”

If anyone had ever told Rafael that such an exchange would not only make him smile but warm his heart on a day when it was sorely wounded, he would have given them his best withering glare. He might have similarly mocked the suggestion that hearing Sonny Carisi’s Staten Island accent would someday cause his heart to skip a beat and his entire body to relax, if only a fraction. Yet as he caught the sound of Sonny greeting Carmen, that’s exactly what happened. Rafael stood and pulled his suit jacket from the back of his chair. He had it on and was just stuffing a few papers and his computer tablet into his briefcase when Sonny’s legs came in the door to his office, followed in good order by the rest of his body.

Sonny wasn’t smiling, but he had a gleam in his eye. That gleam.

“Are you sure about this?” Rafael asked. “I’m not very good company right now.”

“You’re always good company,” Sonny responded, and now he did smile. “That’s why I married you.”

“That’s not why you married me.”

“It’s one of the reasons.”

As always, despite Rafael’s repeated requests not to, Sonny put an arm around him and kissed him. “I also married you because you’re the best kisser in the Western Hemisphere,” Sonny murmured. “Which is how I know you can do better than that.”

“I don’t want to do better than that in my office.” Rafael tried to sound annoyed. He always tried to sound annoyed about this, and Sonny always insisted on kissing him in the office anyway. Carmen was right. Rafael in no way prevailed over Sonny in anything. He wanted to hate that. He really did. But those eyes, and those dimples, and that damn gleam… It really wasn’t fair.

So he let Sonny pull him close and kiss him, and inevitably, he was drawn in. The blinds between his office and Carmen’s desk had been closed for four years for exactly this reason. By Rafael. Carmen thought it was cute.

Sonny picked up Rafael’s briefcase and turned toward the door, sliding his hand down Rafael’s arm to grasp his hand. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.” Sonny was well aware that Rafael would make him let go of his hand once they reached the hallway, but he loved to push it. Rafael’s rules about public displays of affection were made to be broken. Besides, Sonny didn’t want to miss the fun of making Rafael pull his hand away. He hoped the elevator was empty.

It wasn’t, but Sonny still fondled Rafael’s ass while they rode. This, Rafael allowed, but only because experience had shown him that trying to stop it caused more of a scene than simply enjoying it. Which he very much did, although he’d never tell Sonny that.

On the way to the subway, Sonny kept Rafael entertained with stories of the morning’s arraignment docket. There was frequently bleakly funny drama there, and this morning had been no exception. Sonny had also seen Nikki Staines get a client released on his own recognizance when he should be in Riker’s right now, using an argument so labyrinthine that both Sonny and Rafael decided the judge had simply been too bamboozled to resist.

On the subway, blissfully uncrowded in the middle of the workday, Sonny kept Rafael busy fending off kisses and caresses, which he knew perfectly well Rafael loved, his dry peevishness about it notwithstanding. Sonny’s smiles and giggling were so irresistible, and his abrupt switches from silly to sensual so intoxicating that Rafael often found himself laughing as he tried to complain, and just as often found himself kissing Sonny back despite himself.

As a result, by the time they reached their apartment, Rafael had at least smiled a few times. Now that his husband had basically ordered him home, he was looking forward to his softest, most worn jeans and a comfortable, loose shirt. As they undressed, he was surprised by Sonny’s suggestion that they take a shower.

“We just took showers a few hours ago.”

“Not together.”

Rafael looked up from where he was carefully draping his suit onto its hanger. Sonny had hung his up, too, but with nothing like the care Rafael used. He was leaning against the wall next to the closet, looking a little goofy wearing nothing but tighty-whities and socks. Except that, on second glance, Rafael saw that he was also wearing a very suggestive grin and sporting the beginnings of an erection.

For a moment, Rafael looked away, finishing his task, being a little too careful about closing the closet door to give himself time to think. He really wasn’t in the mood for sex. Well, he was; he was always more or less in the mood to make love to Sonny, but this one time, he seriously considered refusing.

“Rafael, I can hear you thinking. Stop it,” Sonny’s soft voice told him. He took a step toward Rafael, but didn’t touch him yet.

“It’s been a rotten morning.”

“I know that. And I know what you’re telling yourself.” Now Sonny reached out and gently took Rafael’s arm, turning him to face him. Sonny cupped Rafael’s cheek slowly, gently. “You’re fuckin’ brilliant. You know that. Juries just do shit sometimes, and judges almost never step in. That’s all this is.”

Rafael felt secure enough, as Sonny pulled him to himself, to allow his voice to fully reveal his distress. “Tell that to the next kid he rapes.”

“That’s not on you,” Sonny said, tipping his face down to kiss him. “That’s on the jury.”

Rafael let Sonny kiss him, closing his eyes to concentrate on the sensation of Sonny’s soft lips and the delicate sweetness of his taste. His arms found their accustomed place around Sonny’s waist, and he let himself begin to relax, his mouth following wherever Sonny cared to lead. He cooperated when Sonny eased his undershirt from him and slid his boxers off, taking his socks with them. He wasn’t much help with Sonny’s underwear and socks, but he stroked Sonny’s shoulders as he bent to remove them and then, seeing beautiful Sonny naked and eager for him, Rafael felt something inside himself shift. Suddenly hungry for as much skin contact as he could get, he pulled Sonny to him and held him there, invading his mouth with impulsive ardor.

Sonny moaned at the unexpected heat and grasped a handful of hair at the back of Rafael’s head, kissing Rafael back as hard as Rafael was kissing him. At that moment, Rafael knew what he needed. He needed to be fucked, and he needed it rough. He needed to let go, safe in his Sonny’s arms, and fuck out all the self-doubt and anger until there was only pure, raw sex and the certain knowledge that Sonny was his, and he was Sonny’s, even with his colossal failure in this damned, shitty trial that he should have crushed.

“Shower,” Sonny growled, walking Rafael into the bathroom without interrupting their increasingly passionate embrace. He fumbled for the fixture, turning on the water and feeling fleetingly grateful for the feature that set the water temperature where they liked it. He was not in the mood to have to deal with adjusting it, because Rafael was grinding their bodies together and making needy, obscene noises that had Sonny fully hard. Rafael was greedy, in a hurry all of a sudden, and Sonny felt a jolt of raw lust when he felt Rafael take his cock into his hand the second they stepped under the water.

“Fuck me,” Rafael growled, and Sonny groaned.

There was nothing gentle in the way Rafael was stroking him, and Sonny wasn’t gentle as he backed Rafael against the corner between the glass block wall and one of the tile walls. They’d discovered that this shower, which Rafael had always thought too small, was actually perfect for the two of them because if one of them was in this corner, he could brace one leg against the glass wall beside the door. In that position, he was entirely stable, and entirely open for whatever the other had in mind.

Sonny began to tell Rafael what he had in mind in filthy, graphic detail between nips along Rafael’s neck as Rafael pumped his cock. Sonny roughly began to finger him, and the room filled with steam and the increasing volume of their groans and occasional cries. As he felt himself get too close, Sonny pulled out of Rafael’s grasp and fell to his knees, unceremoniously lowering his mouth over Rafael’s cock as deeply as he could. Rafael gasped Sonny’s name and began to fuck his mouth as he felt Sonny stretch him with a firm haste that wasn’t his usual slow, sensual seduction.

“Tell me,” Sonny ordered, letting Rafael out of his mouth just long enough to spew the words. “Tell me how much you want me to fuck you. Tell me how hard you want it.”

“Fuck, Carisi… Get up here. Fuck me now, I don’t want to wait. I mean it, I need you to slam into me. Now!”

Sonny didn’t waste much time getting back to his feet and grasping Rafael’s ass in one hand while, with the other, he positioned his cock.

“Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me. Hard. Now.” Rafael was groaning through gritted teeth, and Sonny didn’t make him wait any longer before entering him quickly and, for Sonny, roughly. Had Sonny not known Rafael so well by now, Rafael’s hoarse shout would have caused him to stop immediately and apologize profusely. But he’d heard his husband’s cries of ecstasy frequently enough to know the difference between that and a shout of objection. Rafael’s tight grasp on Sonny’s buttocks, along with the way he was pulling Sonny into him, told Sonny that this was exactly what Rafael needed right now.

Rafael didn’t want tender or soft. He wanted nasty and raw, and Sonny couldn’t pound him hard enough. “Fuck, Sonny… Harder! As hard as you can…”

“You’re mine,” Sonny growled into Rafael’s ear, thrusting powerfully into Rafael at a punishing pace. “Only I get to fuck you, only I get to make you come. Say it! Tell me you’re mine.”

“I…” Rafael was close, Sonny knew from the way he was breathing and the way he was moving, humping Sonny’s cock even as Sonny slammed into him. “I’m yours. I’m… yours. I love you…”

Sonny bit down on the inside of his cheek to hold off his orgasm as he pumped into Rafael. “I love you so much,” he whispered harshly. “You’re so fucking hot. Shit, you’re so fucking sexy, Rafael…”

He didn’t stop hissing praise until Rafael began to practically howl as he came. “Yes, Baby, come for me… come for me…” Sonny encouraged, waiting until Rafael started to come down before allowing himself to explode into him. “Oh, fuck! Fuck, I love you, Rafael!”

When they’d wrung every last aftershock from one another, they stood together, panting, arms around each other and foreheads together.

“How the hell did I ever get lucky enough to marry you?” Rafael gasped, genuine bafflement coloring his appreciation.

Sonny smiled beautifully and giggled a little as he gulped air. “I love that you think you’re the lucky one. I got you so snowed…”

Rafael grinned a little, but didn’t laugh. “I love you, Sonny.”

“I know. And I love you. Can I wash your hair?”

They spent the next half hour washing and caressing and appreciating each other, before turning off the water and stepping out of the shower to help one another dry off.

Sonny made it hard to walk from the bathroom to the bed, simply because he was walking behind Rafael with his arms around him. When they had made it to the bed and settled under the sheet, Rafael found himself lying on his back in Sonny’s arms, with Sonny half lying on him and looking down at him. The look on his face reminded Rafael very much of his look in Rafael’s favorite wedding picture. Sonny had Rafael’s eyes locked with his as he ran his long fingers through Rafael’s thick hair.

“I love you,” Rafael murmured, still slightly uncomfortable with this deep level of intimacy, one he had never experienced with anyone other than Sonny. But happy. So happy.

“I love you, too,” Sonny said, “More than you’ll ever know. And if you think I’m done making you feel good, think again.”

Rafael really wished Sonny wouldn’t rub noses with him like that. Sure, it was fun, and it felt wonderful, but it was so undignified. Oh, what the hell. At least he knew Sonny would never dream of doing it in front of anyone and, besides, they both knew Rafael could never deny Sonny anything.

#Law & Order SVU #law & order: special victims unit #lawyer boyfriends #Raul Esparza #rafael barba #sonny carisi #ADA Sonny Carisi #Detective Sonny Carisi #Peter Scanavino #Barisi

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

break up with ur girlfriend (3/3) - dartmouth420

a/n: part 3: in which Raven makes an ethically questionable decision, Raja really doesn’t like mornings, absolutely nothing will crush Manila’s positive attitude, and Jujubee throws a curve ball

basically ye olde morning after weirdness

thanks for reading :)

Raven awoke tired and a little hungover in bed with Manila and Raja. She raised her head and sighed, then noticed the tall glass of water on the bedside table. She loosely remembered Raja padding out of the room just as Raven was drifting off (thoroughly fucked out and happy) and placing something on the bedside table. That was kind of her, especially considering the circumstances in which they’d met. Raven raised the glass and took a big drink, appreciative.

Raven sat on the edge of the bed quietly, not wanting to wake them. Maybe she’d go and make coffee or something. Or maybe she should just leave. Raven glanced over her shoulder. A perfect ray of sunlight was hitting the bed where Manila and Raja were still curled up, asleep, and whole thing was aesthetically glorious.

Raven wondered if what was about to do was ethical. But then she shrugged, and raised her phone. Also, she really liked them, and might be interested in seeing them again, so she held no malicious intent.

The photo she took was from a strong angle, consisting of the corner of her face, one eye visible, eyebrow raised, blonde hair smooth close to her head. Behind her was the bed, and Raja and Manila curled up, still asleep. Raja was deep in the covers, only one closed eye, her forehead and a streak her long grey hair visible. Manila was next to Raja, lying on her back fast asleep with her mouth open, the cover pulled up to her chin.

She hit send.

BITCH replied Juju, quickly, with about eighteen emojis, you fucked them both???

you bet replied Raven, smug.

Wait a sec, Juju replied. Then the second text came in.

ohhhhhh YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE IT

what?? Raven looked down at her phone, concerned.

BITCH THE GIRL ON THE LEFT IS MY SECOND COUSIN

The blood drained from Raven’s face, and she looked back at Manila, who was… well, a young woman who’s last name she hadn’t asked for and who’s social media who hadn’t checked out. But in a big, multicultural city like this who would’ve expected her to be related to Raven’s best friend?

fuckkkk

Juju sent her a text containing twenty laugh-crying emojis and one devil, followed by a vomit-face.

uhhhh, don’t be grossed out but she’s hot, replied Raven, who was finding the situation as distressing as it was funny. This new factoid raised the stakes, seeing this couple was no longer an entirely anonymous entity.

She mildly regretted sending the photo. Maybe it was an invasion of privacy.

BITCH DON’T TELL ME THAT ABOUT MY COUSIN

idk if anyone knows she’s gay tbh that whole side of the family is pretty religious

i didn’t know lol

oh shit I’m sorry… was just trying to brag to u about my conquest haha

why are u like this it’s fucked up lol

idk lol

thanks for telling me

but like

i might wanna see her again?

maybe both of them ;) ??? typed out Raven, hitting send with some mild guilt. She’d definitely need to sit down and think about this later. After she had some caffeine.

o really?

yeah…

aw <3

Raven smiled at the phone. She really loved Juju, they’d been best friends since college, and truly shared everything.

can’t wait to be ur in-law, teased Juju,

imma bring u really cheap wedding gifts

ur getting an off-brand slow cooker

BITCH!

anyway g2g <3 <3

hmu later <3

Raven got up and walked to the bathroom. She quickly rinsed her face and mouth. She put the unexpected information from Juju about Manila aside for now, and decided not address it. This really wasn’t the time or the place. Then she padded over to the kitchen. It was a bit cluttered, clearly well-used and loved.

There was an espresso machine on the counter, and Raven grinned. She knew how to work one of those, having done the time in her early twenties as a barista. While the water heated, Raven looked at the pictures on the fridge. There were kitschy magnets from a few places around the world, ‘Paris, je t'aime!’, and several photos, including two goofy school pictures of Raja and Manila respectively. Manila glared at the camera, about thirteen and deep in an emo phase, judging by her racoon-like eyeliner, back-combed hair and striped long-sleeved shirt. Raja’s picture was more innocent, a goofy-looking androgynous nine-year old with a big smile, round face and black hair sticking up awkwardly.

Raven snorted a laugh. She appreciated this couple’s sense of humour, displaying silly pictures on their fridge.

She sighed. She shared her apartment somewhat resentfully with two room mates. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it was cheap and because of that she’d been able to put aside some savings. If only Tyra would do the dishes every once in a while. Not to mention she was pretty sure Nicole had a crush on her, and she had to figure out how to let the other girl down easy. In fact, Nicole was probably taking her dog for a walk right now. Raven winced and sighed. Whatever, these were problems for Future Raven. Hopefully she’d find a better job soon, and move on.

The espresso machine was gurgling, so Raven moved over and dealt with it.

A few minutes later she snuck back into the bedroom with three cups of espresso. She was a little nervous, this wasn’t something she’d normally do. She was more of a leave immediately after sex or quickly in the morning kind of lover. But this felt like the right thing.

She put the coffee on the bedside table and sat on the bed, heart suddenly beating quickly.

The movement of Raven sitting back down on the bed disrupted Manila, who blinked her eyes open and yawned, stretching. The movement then woke Raja, who groaned and buried her face deeper into the pillow, disappearing under the duvet. Manila blinked and smiled sleepily at Raven.

“Good morning… oh! You made coffee!” said Manila, and she threw the covers off and made for the bedside table where Raven had put the little cups, “Oh my god, is that espresso?”

“Did somebody say espresso?” muttered Raja from deep in the blankets.

“Yeah, I made some,” said Raven, gently.

“That’s nice, you’re so sweet!” enthused Manila, kissing Raven on the cheek. Manila was shockingly perky, having been awake for less than one minute, “And I thought you were all mean and sexy last night…”

“She’s great. Keep your voice down,” muttered Raja.

Raven stifled a laugh, and sipped her own coffee. Manila crawled off the bed and threw on a robe, before sitting next to Raven and drinking her coffee in silence. Eventually, a long brown arm stuck out of the pile of covers that contained Raja, and Manila carefully put the cup of espresso into her hand. The arm retreated into the pile of covers almost cartoonishly. The only evidence of Raja’s existence was a small slurp and a happy sigh.

“I had a really nice time with you two, last night,” whispered Raven, putting a hand on Manila’s thigh.

“Aw thanks! I did too, and Raja as well,” replied Manila, quietly.

“Lovely, so… I can leave whenever, if you’ve got something you’re doing today-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” replied Manila, smiling so that the edges of her eyes crinkled happily, “Neither of us have plans, you can hang out for breakfast, whatever suits you.”

“Right, well,” replied Raven, her heart glowing a little upon hearing she was welcome to stay, “I really need to shower.”

“Mmm, I think I’ll join you,” said Manila, putting down her cup down. They both glanced back at the pile of blankets and pillows that contained Raja somewhere deep within it.

“Yeah, she won’t be really awake for a while.”

Of course, Raven ended up on her knees in the shower eating Manila out against the wall. A truly good start to the day, Raven mused to herself as Manila squirmed and gasped, throwing her head back with pleasure. What could be better?

When they were finally done, they found Raja in the kitchen, starting to cook. The older woman had put her hair up on top of her head in a messy bun, wore dark-rimmed glasses and an elaborately patterned silk robe.

“Your glasses are too cute,” said Raven, as she towelled her hair dry. She was wearing a borrowed bathrobe, one of an apparently infinite supply, “Anything I can help with?”

“No, just sit there and look pretty,” replied Raja, with an affectionate smile.

“That’ll be easy.”

Breakfast was insanely good. It was better than any breakfast Raven had had in a long time, and she’d certainly worked up an appetite. Raja could really cook. They hung around the table for a while, chatting away about plans for the weekend and this and that. Eventually Raven changed, slipping her dress from last night back on, feeling a bit weird next to the other two, who were wearing relaxed weekend clothes. It was time to retreat to her own apartment and chill out.

“I think I’ll call an uber,” said Raven to Raja. Manila was checking her phone, and Raja was putting dishes in the sink.

“I can give you a ride,” said Raja, shrugging.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Raven. She supposed it’d be worth it to save the eight dollars on the ride.

“Manila, you want to come?” asked Raja, half-turning towards the other woman.

“Ah, no, sorry I have to make a call in a few minutes,” said Manila, giving Raven an apologetic smile.

Manila then engaged in a drawn out goodbye with Raven, leaving her with lingering kisses and an exchange of numbers. Raja watched from the door, lacing up her shoes, and raised a single eyebrow. Then Raven got her little purse and left with Raja. Her high-heeled club shoes clicked along the floor of the hallway.

In the carpark under the building, they approached an ugly 90’s style green car.

“Wow, this thing is ancient,” joked Raven, sitting down on the worn passenger seat. But unlike Juju’s car that seemed to be always covered in empty takeout containers and random garbage, Raja’s was meticulously clean. Raven didn’t have a car, but everything she did was comfortably within either cycling or public transit distance, and for anything that wasn’t Juju would drive her.

“Yeah, so everyone tells me,” chuckled Raja, shifting into gear, “But it’s reliable, hasn’t died yet. I made it through Hurricane Katrina in this thing.”

“You can drive stick?” asked Raven, curious, “Also… what?”

“Yep,” replied Raja, winking, “And I’ll tell you that story sometime if you’re lucky.”

“Hmm.” Raven was impressed and she eyed Raja’s tattooed hand on the gearshift as she confidently manoeuvred the car out of the parkade into the street. The bright sun burst through the windshield, and reflected off of Raja’s white Tshirt.

“So,” said Raven as they drove, after she’d given Raja her address. She felt a bit exposed, without any makeup on and her hair still slightly damp from the shower.

“So,” replied Raja, smirking a little at Raven’s uncharacteristic hesitance, “Manila gave you her number, right?”

Raven nodded, and then she had no idea why she said it, but suddenly it was out of her mouth, “It turns out I distantly know her.”

“Oh yeah? From where?”

“She’s my friend Juju’s second cousin.”

Raja stiffened at the mention, shifting the clutch and accelerating through the green light, “You know her family?”

“No. She just happens to be related to her. Juju’s my best friend,” replied Raven, inwardly cursing. Why had she even mentioned it?

“How did you find out?”

“Checked out her instagram this morning, realized the connection,” Raven lied quickly, guilt flaring in her stomach.

“Right. Well. Manila’s family is pretty religious,” said Raja matter-of-factly, but Raven could see lingering resentment in her expression, “Let’s just say they don’t approve of us and leave it at that. Maybe don’t mention this to your friend.”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

Raven wondered if she could have handled that better. But then again, family was complicated.

They pulled up at Raven’s soon after that. Raven was having a hard time getting a read on Raja, so she decided to say exactly how she felt and Raja could interpret it however she so desired. They’d been quiet for the last few minutes of the drive. It was a beautiful day, thought Raven, looking out the window at the bright blue sky.

“Well, I had a great time with you two last night and I hope you stay in touch, I’d love to see you again,” said Raven, with a warm smile as she opened the door to get out.

“I had a good time as well,” said Raja, with a half-smile, “I, ah, just felt a bit weird with you bringing up Manila’s family. I’m basically suspicious of anyone who knows them since they’ve been so shitty to us over the years. But yeah, I like you too. Until next time.”

And then Raja leaned in and kissed Raven intently. Raven raised her eyebrows, surprised. And then Raja pulled back and gave her an absolutely filthy grin, and when Raven left the car she waved. Raven waved back and saw in Raja the same goofy energy as she’d seen in the childhood photo on her fridge. It was a bit of a shock after her cool exterior, but charming.

Hmmm. It seemed the night before had worked out in the best way possible. Raven opened the front door to her building and nodded pleasantly to her elderly neighbour, who looked her up and down disapprovingly.

Raven walked up the two flights of stairs towards her apartment, feeling thoroughly satisfied. She had work on Monday and a bunch of laundry and groceries and chores to do before then. Also, Juju would be back Sunday afternoon and she was looking to reuniting with her best friend after their brief time apart.

There was much to discuss.

The following morning she received a text.

You doing anything next weekend? :P

Raven raised an eyebrow and replied, new phone who dis

It’s Manila!!! Omg you’re the worst lol

that’s what they all say

hmmmmm i think i’m available friday ;)

Yay!! We’ll be in touch, Manila sent a quick photo of herself and Raja, a selfie in Raja’s car. Manila was sticking her tongue out at the camera and Raja was looking at something out of frame, light reflecting off her glasses. There were bags full of groceries behind them in the back seat.

Raven smiled down at her phone like a love-struck fool.

#rpdr fanfiction #raven #raja gemini #manila luzon #ravjila #lesbian au #fluff #drama #morning after #dartmouth420 #poly

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bluesfortheredj · 5 years

Text

Rocketman Pt. 3 - The Conclusion.

“Dancing?” Taron questions with a grimace.

“Dancing?” Richard echoes.

“Dancing,” Dexter nods, “lessons start today.”

“I’ve got two left feet,” Richard states, “I can’t dance.”

“Well that’s why Kevin is here to teach you both. I expect to see at least two correct steps by the end of the day. You’ve got an hour to kill before you’re expected in the studio, so good luck you two!” Dexter grins before leaving the room.

Richard and Taron are left alone giving each other equally bewildered stares as they try to process the fact that they will very much be shoved out of their comfort zones in a whole other way now. Getting naked with one another and rolling around on a bed was one thing, but dancing was something else, and for some reason felt a little more intimidating than getting their kit off.

“So, you heard from (Y/N) at all?” Taron asks, finding a good excuse to bring you up and cut the baffled silence.

“Nah,” Richard lies, knowing full well Taron would also be lenient with the truth, “you?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ purposefully.

“Liar.”

“So are you.”

It had only been 48 hours since your last encounter with the two of them yet you’d been talking constantly, and it wasn’t an easy task separating the conversations when you had both men messaging you at the same time. There had been more than a couple of near misses with replies being sent to the wrong person but thankfully you’d noticed just in time and corrected yourself. You couldn’t lie, the attention being lavished upon you was exhilarating, but their messages reminded you that ultimately there was a decision to make sooner or later, and right now you still had no idea what to do.

On the one hand there was Richard who was very much for talking about silly things, giving you the sweetest compliments, and you found yourself giggling a lot at your phone when you spoke to him, then on the other hand you had Taron who was more of a stronger personality, didn’t mince his words when he spoke, and certainly let you know just how much he wanted you. Neither of them were making it easy for you, and at this rate you’d have to choose no one rather than try and decide between them.

“Who do you think she’s going to choose then?” Taron asks after a couple of minutes silence as they weigh each other up.

“I don’t know,” Richard chuckles, “not a clue. Why, who do you think she’ll go for?”

“I couldn’t possibly even begin to guess. What do you talk to her about?”

“As if I’m going to tell you that, and as if you’re going to tell me if I ask you the same. Is this even a good idea? Have we taken it too far? What if we’ve just ended up pushing her away with the pressure we’re putting on her?” Richard worries.

“When was the last time you two spoke?” Taron asks as he moves towards his friend and places his hand on his shoulder.

“Last night.”

“Right, well same here. So we’ll lay off for today, yeah? Give her some breathing space. I’m sure this dancing will take our minds off of it all... For at least a couple of hours anyway,” Taron smirks.

The two men make their way to the studio early to get changed into plain tops and shorts, then play some music to try and get into the mood for doing some actual dance moves. They step from side to side then when they catch each others eye a whole lot of laughter ensues.

“Dad dancing!” Taron laughs.

“It’s what I do best!” Richard winks.

“Well… It’s a start,” the dance instructor grins as he enters the room, “nice to meet you both, I’m Kevin.”

After a short chat about the experience, or lack of, that both guys have had with dancing, Kevin gets them doing a simple warm up which includes stepping side to side, then back to front and moving their arms freely to loosen their bodies up. He shows them a basic move of crossing over their feet as they step to the side, then doing a short slide as they extend their arms out, and they begin to copy him slowly.

“That’s it, cross, step, step, slide,” he encourages as they move along the floor.

After a few more starter moves like this he puts them together and arranges their pose to show the strongest hold as they prepare for a bit of ballroom dancing.

“Strong arms,” Kevin reminds them as he pushes against their hold and they wobble a little, “now remember, that’s Taron’s space, and that’s Richard’s space,” he says as he gestures to the space between them, “hold that pose.”

Giggles erupt from the men as they start to step around in a circle holding their frame as rigid as they could, and Kevin rolls his eyes a the red faces that appear as they try not to burst into laughter as one another.

“How on earth did you get through filming intimate scenes if you’re like this when dancing?” he asks.

“There were a lot of takes,” Taron winks.

“We need some drama, some passion, some… Ah!” he grins as he spots you walking along outside the window, “excuse me, hi, hello!” Kevin shouts after you, making you turn around with a confused look on your face, “hey, sorry to bother you, but we need some help in here, would you mind dancing with a couple of very handsome men to help them learn some steps?”

You laugh, then look through the window to see Taron and Richard standing there with expectant looks as they stare at you through the glass, and you nod quietly before following Kevin inside the studio. Was this fate, or just a happy accident? Whatever it was you were more than happy that it happened, and the thought of being close to these two once again causes shivers to run up and down your spine.

“Right, so I’ve got…”

“(Y/N),” Richard smiles, finishing Kevin’s sentence.

“Ah, so you all know each other?” he asks, and you all nod in silence as each of you think about your previous encounters.

“Excellent, so this’ll be much easier,” Kevin grins, “Richard, you’re up first.”

“Hi,” Richard whispers with a shy smile as he walks up to you.

“Hi,” you grin back while Kevin arranges you both into position with your hands up and linked on one side with your elbows slightly bent, and your arms in a shallow semi-circle on the other with his hand on your shoulder blade and your hand resting on his upper arm.

“Perfect,” Kevin nods, “now (Y/N), you’ll be stepping back as Richard steps forward, and vice versa, so whatever I say to him, you do the opposite, okay?”

“Got it,” you smile as your eyes concentrate on Richard’s light blue orbs that appear to be staring into your soul.

He looked good today, hell, both of them looked good today. He was in a tight black short sleeved t-shirt and baggy shorts that stopped just above his knees, and it was a struggle to keep your eyes off of his arms flexing every time you both moved. His face was soft as always, the strong jawline hidden a little by the stubble that had grown over the weekend which made him that much more attractive in your opinion, and his natural curls were bouncing as you followed your steps; that little streak of grey catching your eye every now and again.

Every now and again you could see Taron watching you both intently from the sidelines, his lips in a thing line at the frustration of not being able to touch you yet. He was wearing his blue Rocketman baseball cap to hide his bad haircut and his white t-shirt clung to his body in all the right places, with his shorts showing his strong calves perfectly.

“Ready?” Richard smirks, and before you can ask what for he pulls you against him quickly then dips you down.

“That was… unexpected, but nice improvisation. Taron, you’re next. Are you okay, (Y/N)? Do you need some water or anything?” Kevin asks.

“I’m good,” you nod, “all good.”

Taron strides over to you with purpose and before Kevin can help you get into the correct pose, he grabs your waist and moves you slowly from side to side as his hips press against yours.

“Taron, that’s-”

“Passionate, dramatic, and sexy, right?” he says as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and spins you around unexpectedly, “isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Well at least you were listening to me earlier...” Kevin sighs.

Taron continues to make up dance moves with you now that your back was pressed against his chest, and he runs his hands up and down the sides of your body after lifting your arms out of the way.

“What do you think, Kev? Something like this?” he asks as he spins you back to face him and pulls you into his body before slowly squatting down front of you as his hands trail down your front.

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself as you look down at Taron who was now on his knees looking up at you.

It was certainly a sight to see but a small cough from Richard soon grabs your attention, and you’re quick to look up at him and his concerned expression. Taron tuts then stands up again to block your view while Kevin stands there with his head in his hand as he wonders what to do with these guys.

“How about we just take a break?” he suggests, “I think (Y/N) might need some fresh air after all these male hormones going wild in here...”

He gives you a wink and you laugh at his comment, then take your leave and find a quiet spot outside in the courtyard on a bench which sits neatly underneath a large tree to give you some relief from the sun. Taron soon appears in the doorway and heads straight for you, taking a seat so close that your thighs are touching before he’s spoken a word, and he leans into you to give you a gentle nudge.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m good. You alright?”

“Yeah, not bad. How are you, uh, feeling about all this? Richard was a little worried earlier.”

“Stuck between a rock and a hard place,” you chuckle, “what was he worried about?”

“Sorry to hear that,” he sighs, “it’s our fault for putting you in this situation. He was worried we were pushing you away.”

You hum in response then look away from him, but he’s quick to place a hand on your cheek and direct your gaze back to his face. He smiles at you and you begin to melt under his touch, then he tucks your hair behind your ear with his free hand, and leans in to kiss you. His lips are soft and the kiss is sensually slow, but you find yourself thinking about how you miss the feel of Richard’s stubble against your skin, and you’re quick to lean back from him.

“Sorry,” you frown, “I… My head is just all over the place. Do I have to make a decision?”

“Not if you don’t want to...” Taron smiles as he leans his forehead against yours, “I’m sure we could come to some arrangement. Why don’t we go find Richard?”

“Okay,” you reply nervously.

Could this work? Could the three of you come to a decision about this and would they really be okay with sharing you? Surely you couldn’t have the best of both worlds, that would be greedy. But then again, they’re the ones who started it all, so must have discussed all outcomes, right? Taron takes your hand as you walk back inside to find Richard walking towards you both on his way to see where you’d got to, and you stand in a slightly awkward silence for a few seconds.

“(Y/N) has a… conundrum. She’s hoping we can help. We should go somewhere to talk,” Taron says, and Richard nods to a room opposite you both.

“What’s the conundrum then?” he asks when you all enter the cramped office and the door is safely shut behind the three of you.

“Well it would appear that we’re both very handsome, exceptional at giving her orgasms, and she can’t possibly make a decision,” Taron smirks.

“I didn’t quite put it like that,” you laugh, “but that’s the general feeling, yes.”

“So I said, why choose? Why not have both of us? We’re all adults here, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement that suits all of us,” Taron says matter of factly.

Richard perches on the edge of the desk as he brings his hand up to his chin while he thinks it over, and you stand by the door as your heart starts to race with anxiety. If it were up to Richard he’d want you all to himself; sure it was fun sharing the last couple of times, but your conversations run deeper than just sex, there were feelings there, and strong ones at that. Then again he’d rather share you than have none of you, so if this really was the only way of doing that, then so be it. As long as he got to wake up next to you more than Taron did, then he didn’t really mind what happened.

“On one condition,” Richard finally says after what seemed like half an hour, but in reality was only a couple of minutes.

“Go on...” Taron says.

“If it’s okay with (Y/N), I’d like the majority of the time with her.”

Taron looks at his friend, the sincerity etched clear as day on his face at the proposal, and he knows that his feelings run much deeper than his own. Richard was the sensitive one of the two for sure, and although Taron was definitely more than just physically attracted to you, he knew that with Richard it was probably considered love already.

“Yep, that’s good with me,” you nod, “we’d better be getting back...”

“I think we can spare a few minutes just the three of us one last time. What do you think, Taron?” Richard asks boldly as he stands up and reaches out for your hand that you gladly give to him.

Taron nods with a smile as Richard turns you to face him and when you meet his green eyes you see that glint of cheekiness that made you quiver when he caught you with your hand down your knickers that first time in the editing room. You lean back against Richard as Taron slips his hand down underneath your clothes and curls his hand around so that his fingers can explore your folds, and Richard leans down to your shoulder to place a kiss against your neck.

“Do you like that?” he whispers, “do you like him touching you? Pushing his fingers inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, “I do.”

“And do you want me to do the same?” he asks, his voice thick with lust and his accent much more pronounced.

You melt into his body further at his question and nod your head vigorously as you find yourself unable to say even one word. Richard smiles against your neck then slides his hand down against your bum cheek after Taron somehow undone your jeans without you even realising, and his hand travels underneath you until he meets Taron’s fingers. You gasp as he pushes them slowly inside you right against the other digits that were currently pumping in and out of your core, and he purposely starts to move them at a difference pace.

“How does that feel?” Richard breathes, his breath warming your ear.

You’re completely unable to form any sort of comprehensive reply, and all that falls from your lips are a string of whimpers and whines as you close your eyes and tilt your head back to rest on Richard’s shoulder. The two men smile to themselves as they watch you lose all self control under their combined touch, then Richard glides his free hand up your top and grabs onto one of your breasts roughly, digging his fingers into the soft flesh and kneading it.

“Richard,” you manage to pant as you feel a slickness spread across the top of your inner thighs.

You were close and they could both tell from the way your breathing had suddenly become erratic and your body was getting heavier as your legs were starting to give way beneath you. Richard pinches your nipple as his arm gets tighter across your chest to help support you, then Taron’s free hand joins the fun as he starts to run a finger over your clit at an unbelievably quick pace. Whimpers turn to loud pants, which then turn to stuttered cries as you clench tightly around all four fingers, and release with a power that leaves stars in your eyes when you finally open them.

“Shit,” you breathe as their digits leave you.

“Good?” Taron asks.

“I think I just had an out of body experience,” you pant.

“Very good then,” Richard confirms as he licks his fingers clean then does your jeans up for you.

“Do you know how hot you look right now?” Taron asks as he studies your flushed face.

Richard’s quick to turn you to face him and when you do, his lips land on yours before you get a chance to take a breath.

“Yeah you’re right, but then she looks hot all the time,” he smirks when he pulls away.

Taron gives your bum a sharp smack before leaving the room to clean himself up, and Richard strokes your hair back from your face so he can press a kiss to your forehead with a smile.

“I think this is going to work,” he says softly.

#richard madden #richard madden x reader #taron egerton #taron egerton x reader #taron smut #richard madden smut #rocketman imagine

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