i have copies of the sims 1, 3 and 4 installed on this comp and i feel sort of bad that 2 isn’t included because TS2 is fun too. but it’s TS3 with less world-traveling and TS4 is TS3 but with better room design (and less world-traveling) and TS1 is its own thing altogether and worthwhile playing on its own. and TS2 is lost in the greyspace. TS2 is its own twilight zone

Foster

Meadema x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're taken to a new home

You meet Beth and Viv two days after the new year begins.

Social services came around for the last time in the evening two days ago. They found you, curled up on the floor of your wardrobe, having locked it from the inside with a chain of interlocking hairbands.

Your father had been passed out on the landing and your mother was high out of her mind in the kitchen.

You got woken up, told to pack and taken away. You spend the night in your new social worker's office and then you're brought to their house.

Beth and Viv greet you at the door. You only know who they are because your social worker gave you the file before she dumped you here.

"Your room's pretty bare," Beth explains," We can go and get decorations if you want later today."

You survey the room. "It's fine."

It's more than fine. Your old room was a dirty old mattress that you're sure your uncle and cousins stole. Your wardrobe was second-hand and falling apart while your desk had different-sized legs and the accompanying chair didn't have a backrest so was functionally a stool.

"Are you sure?" Beth looks around the room. "We can get decorations. It's no problem."

"It's good," You confirm, placing your bin bag down on the bed (a bed with an actual bed frame!).

"Okay," Viv says," We'll let you unpack while we make lunch. Any allergies?"

You shake your head.

"We'll see you soon."

Unpacking is done embarrassingly quickly and you linger a bit longer to not look too pathetic in front of Beth and Viv. It's little more than twiddling your thumbs and staring at the clock on your bedside table.

You didn't have a bedside table at home so that's kind of nice. It's got drawers on it so you would be able to stash food in it if you needed to.

Beth and Viv seem like nice people but you can never be quite too sure. It's not your first rodeo in the foster system. Your parents cleaned up their act last time so there's a chance they'll do the same this time though, judging by the way your father was passed out on the stairs, you wouldn't be surprised if he ended up dead by alcohol poisoning.

You sigh softly as you get off the bed, stretching out your back in preparation before exiting the room.

"Hey," Viv says when she notices you lingering in the background," Lunch is ready if you want to sit."

You can't quite tell if she's just being nice or if this is an order. She looks a bit more stern than Beth does so you do what she says. Today's not the day to test boundaries.

She smiles though, when you sit down and slides you a plate. "I didn't know what you like so I just put on a bit of everything."

You look down at your plate and can't help the smile. She's made sure that everything's separate too, so nothing's touching and nothing will taint each piece of food.

"Thanks," You say softly, digging in. You don't know when they'll next give you a meal so it's better to gorge yourself now. You've got your hoard of food from your horse hidden in the drawers of your bedside table but you'll have to stock up soon because some of that stuff will be out of date very soon and you're not desperate enough to eat spoiled food just yet.

"Have you got a phone?" Beth asks.

You shake your head. You didn't even have wifi back home which really sucked when you were meant to do research for school.

"Here." She chucks a box at you with a smile.

You catch it out of the air and look at it. It's a phone. A brand new one by the looks of it.

You look at Beth and Viv in shock. Your previous foster parents had never given you things like this before. You'd gotten given a brick phone a few years ago when you were first separated from your parents but that had been flogged for drug money almost as soon as you got reunited.

"I..." You swallowed thickly to quell the tears you knew would spill down your cheeks sooner rather than later. "Thank you..."

"No problem," Beth says," Once you get it all set up, I can give you the Netflix password. There's a laptop coming too but we forgot to order it until last night. It should be here soon though, for your school work."

"Thank you..."

You feel a bit like a broken record, incapable of doing anything but repeating the same two words over and over again.

Viv smiles as well, sliding a bag of non-perishables at you. She doesn't say anything about it but you knew that she knew. You're not too sure how she knew but it must have been written in your file somewhere.

Your old social workers had noted a few times that you hoarded food like you were about to go into hibernation.

You like that Viv doesn't make a big deal out of it though. She just slides you the bag and nods.

You're oddly flattered and your opinion of Beth and Viv is cemented in your heart pretty quickly.

You just hope that they don't betray your trust because they're already shaping up to be the best set of foster parents you've ever had and all they're really doing is the bare minimum.

You glance around the house.

It looks nice. It's pretty cosy and warm.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the bag bashfully.

You think that you'll like it here.

sweet stranger

A/N: request made here by @annekelovesreading

Summary: the war veteran Alfie seeks comfort in a stranger in hopes of returning to his old self

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, reader is a sex worker.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

"Thanks for the ride, James. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

You climb out of the Bentley and adjust your coat, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress before strutting towards the hotel, your heels clacking against the pavement and then marble floors of the lobby.

You sense the judgemental eyes already on you, but you've learned how to ignore them. If their judgement paid your rent and bills, then you'd finally be able to retire. But until then, you did what needed to be done.

The service you provide is simple and clear. You meet the client, humor them a bit and fuck them before leaving at first light.

You are lucky enough to work for a powerful and strict madame that actually recognizes the importance of her employees' well-being and ran a high-end business.

Her rules were clear. No marking, no hitting and contraceptive must be used.

Just because her empire dominates the professional area of sexual pleasure does not mean she runs a funhouse. Many would mistake Madame's care for benevolence when it is really just a matter of logistics.

Black eyes don't allow her employees to escort her wealthy clients to prestigious social events. And the only reason her business dominates is because she assures clean employees to her clients. An employee with the clap gets the boot and replacing them is expensive.

After giving your name at the front desk, you take the keys you're headed with a smile and head to room 403.

The name is not unfamiliar. You've heard plenty of Alfie Solomons and part of you is afraid of what he'll be like, judging by what you've heard.

The ring of the lift snaps you our of your thoughts. You flash a smile at the liftman and thank him before stepping into the hallway.

Alfie Solomons is not your first client - nor will he be your last - but knowing he is the first gangster you're about to meet and sleep with has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You mentally repeat Madame's rules to yourself to try and ease your nerves. But then again, do rules hold any standing to criminals?

Taking a couple of deep breaths, you manage to relax as best as you possibly can in the situation and simply remind yourself that he is no different than any other client.

You lift your hand to knock on the door. There's movement behind it and the metal of the lock on the side rattles as it slides to open.

Your lips pull into a welcoming smile at the broad, tall man that opens the door. Taking in his features, you quickly notice his wet hair.

The smell of soap emanates from his large frame along with a faint scent of rum and an irresistible natural musk that almost lured you to touch him.

It's obvious that he took the time to wash himself and, to be honest, you're quite thankful for that.

"You must be Mr. Solomons."

"Punctual little thing, ain't you? Come on in, love. Don't mind me."

His tone is rather calm even with his heavy Cockney drawl. His fingers, however, seem to confess his nerves with the way they flick back and forth.

"Punctuality is a necessary characteristic in my line of work, Mr. Solomons."

"Right, right" he nods as you walk past him. He still can't seem to look you in the eye, but you've yet to discover why.

Most of the nervous clients that you've had were first-timers, young men eager to lose their virginity especially before being sent to war.

Alfie is very attractive and pleasing to the eye with his large strong build, but he is no young boy. You find it hard to believe that this would be his first time being as wealthy, cunning and wealthy as you heard he is.

"May I take your coat, love?"

"Yes, please."

You turn to back to him to allow his assistance, taking in the sight of the hotel room. You've been in this hotel before, but despite that, the lavious decoration of the suite never fails to impress.

Alfie can't help but feel intimidated by the simple scent of your perfume as he stands behind you, taking your coat to hang it for you. He doesn't want you to pick up on the fact that he feels so out of his element.

Before the war, Alfie had his fair share of women. He used to be so different. So young and naive and confident - which is the only characteristic he can successfully feign more than well in the wicked world he treads in.

But now, he's in foreign territory. So much has changed for him.

Getting his affairs back in strict order took so much work, sweat and blood from him that he hadn't prioritized his romantic desires.

If age hadn't been enough, the night tremors made it impossible to sleep beside anyone. Red blotches were beginning to spread throughout his body due to the psoriasis. His sciatica only worsened with age and the harsh conditioning the war had forced onto it. And now the fucking cancer, which only added to his list of secret insecurities.

The confident young man he used to be was gone. Alfie was still human, however. And like many other humans, he yearned for companionship. The problem is that a man like Alfie can't confide in just anyone. He can't expose it without the risk of his enemies seeing it as an opportunity to use it against him.

Good thing about Madame's business is that her turf is neutral and independent ground. For now, at least.

Alfie knows he has to overcome this hurdle if he plans to get married one day and start a family and he just thought this would be the best way.

He's got a beautiful woman in his hotel room; he knows what you came here to do. He's just not sure what to do at this point other than to confess it to you. He doesn't want to say it, but deep down inside, he feels a bit humilited.

It shows in the way he avoids your eyes, the way his head hangs low.

"There's no shame in that, Mr. Solomons. I'm happy to help however I can. We don't have to rush into anything just yet... Do you drink?"

"Not often. Clouds the mind."

"Precisely. What do you drink?" You smile warmly at him.

"Wine is my favorite."

"Let's get you a glass then, Mr. Solomons."

Just as you expect, the wine is successful in loosening him up a bit.

You're careful enough to avoid asking any questions that concerns his business, so you focus on asking him to share things he enjoys like music and books.

After a couple hours and a couple glasses, he's warming up to you as you listen attentively to his childhood stories. Despite the wine, he is cautious enough to leave out certain details that are too personal for you to know that could bring him or his family harm if they ended up in the wrong hands.

You can't take it personal, and can only imagine that trust does not come easy in his line of work which only confirms that pressing him on such information wouldn't be very smart.

No matter how easy the conversation is flowing or how comfortable he may seem to be, you can't forget who he is beyond these four walls.

As he finishes his glass of wine, he sets it down on the table in front of you while raising a hand to his shoulder to rub at the aching knot in his muscle.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you, Mr. Solomons?"

"With what, love? Oh, this?" He asks glancing at his shoulder. "Oh, no. You don't have to do that."

It almost like he's forgotten the reason you're both there.

"Really, I don't mind at all. It's the least I can do for you, sir."

With a sweet smile, you stand as you finish off your glass and set it beside his on the table before walking over to his chair to offer him your hand.

"I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."

His blue eyes narrow their gaze at you for a moment as if he's trying to read you. You can see him physically tense before accepting your hand.

The talkative Alfie is suddenly replaced by a quiet and insecure version as he watches you, from where he's sat in the bed, take your heels off - your almost bare feet still covered in your black stockings - before climbing onto the bed.

You stand on your knees , which are spread to accommodate him between them, and sit back on your feet after taking the small bottle of rose scented intimate oil from your purse.

"It's like riding a bike. Your body knows that to do, but it needs time, patience and practice, so you have to go slow."

Your breathe on his neck has chills racing up his arms as you reach to his front to unbutton his vest and slide it off his wide shoulders. You do the same with his shirt, but pause before sliding it off as his hand instinctively hold your wrist.

"May I? I'd love to see you, but if you don't want to, I can just slide it down a bit."

He ponders for a moment but replies with a silent nod as he releases your wrist.

You slide it off and much to your impression, he seems even wider and stronger than you'd imagined.

A couple scars and red blotches already here and there on his skin, but they don't stop you from marveling at the rippling muscles.

"My goodness... Mr. Solomons, with all the utmost respect, but you are quite the work of art."

He can't help but smile at your compliment, although he thinks that you're just saying what you think he wants to hear, so it's hard for him to believe.

You let your palms gently wander over his large back and arms, with a gentle squeeze to his biceps.

"Carved from stone, are you?" You joke, bringing a chuckle out of him.

"No, love. Just flesh."

"Fortunately."

Using the pipette, you pinch a couple drops of the oil onto his shoulders before closing the vial to set it aside and letting your fingers get to work.

Alfie groans softly and his eyes instantly close as you start massaging to undo the knot that's been bothering him for weeks now.

"How is that, sir? More pressure?"

"No, love. That's just fine...just perfect," he sighs relieved. "Fucking 'ell, love. That feels fucking great. You've no idea how long that's been bothering me."

"I can imagine. You've got knots like this all round. It can't be easy to live with them.

Slowly but surely, Alfie starts to relax. It's impossible not to. It's been a while since he's been touched by anyone, much less massaged by them.

The tension is his body begins to ease as your fingers work away not only the knots caused by the stress of his days, but the anxiety of being intimate again. It doesn't seem so foreign suddenly.

Building up the courage to place a gentle kiss onto the back of his shoulder, you lower your head and press your lips to his skin.

"Is this alright?" You whisper.

"More than alright."

"I can go lower if you'd like me to."

He nods, so you glides your fingers down the middle of his back, pressing against ether side of his spine.

"Fuck, love... That is heavenly."

You smile at the praises and take it a sign to continue the gentle teasing, moving your kisses up to the crook of his neck.

You take your time to ease him into his arousal. The lower you go down his back, the more convinced he becomes.

"Would you like me to touch you?"

You ask nuzzling your nose against his ear and he nods.

You reach a hand to his front and rub your palm against his clothed crotch. Although you can't see his cock, you can tell the man's been blessed with girth as it twitches against your touch.

Alfie gives in to the instant pleasure and moans, letting all his worries melt away. He can't remember the last time he's been able to feel so at ease.

As you whisper encouraging praises into his ear from behind, Alfie allows you to unbutton his trousers and slither your hand under the fabric to stroke his cock with a firm grip.

The room seems to spin around him. His head feels heavy from the pleasure as it leans back against your shoulder.

"That's it, sir. Just let me take care of you" you smirk kissing a sensitive spot on his neck that he didn't even know could make him tremble.

He isn't sure how much longer he can last. It's been a while after all.

"L-love, you feel so good."

You chuckle, letting his thick cock spring free from its confines.

"You're fucking beautiful, sir."

"Oh, you think so, yeah?"

You nod as your hand strokes his dick, coating it with his own pre-cum and the essential oil you'd brought.

"Lemme get more comfortable, love. Wanna see more of ya," alfie says holding your wrist to stop your movement for a moment.

He stands to kick off his trousers, standing in all his naked glory before sitting further up the bed with his back against the upholstered headboard.

"C'mere, love. Lemme see you hm?"

His invitation is made with calloused hands guiding you to straddle his lap. You make quick work of unbuttoning the dress and sliding the straps off your shoulders to reveal your chest with a sultry smile.

"May I?"

You can't help but smile at how he's a gentleman in such a moment. Most clients wouldn't even bother to remember asking, but Alfie makes you forget that he is just another client.

His large hands reach to knead your breasts, giving them such attentive appreciation as he licks his pink lips, eager to get them on you.

"It's alright, love" you whisper, seeming to read his mind.

The way his beard scratches your sensitive skin has your back arching into his warmth. His gentle and considerate admiration lures you into a trance; into a heated dream where you are able to finally feel like a woman loved.

You welcome him with fingers lacing into his messy brown locks still damp from his bath earlier. Your hips move mindless as you grind your clothed sex against his exposed cock, reminding him how good he feels and how you want him to feel the same.

Shifting onto your knees between his legs on the bed, you pepper tender kisses down his chest and stomach as your breasts dangle down and rub against his cock.

The anticipation has Alfie balling his fists into the white sheets.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, love. Fucking 'ell," he mumbles as your hands run up and down his thigh, giving gentle squeezes to tease him on.

"It's gonna be a long night."

"Did you just growl at me?" ClaudioNick

What's In Your Hands - also on AO3

~

Nick wants his goddamned coffee and everybody in the venue is in the way. Claudio intervenes.

~

This is Sarah's fault. I claim no responsibility. But, hey, bingo square I1 Hatesex is done! Title from Fuck by Snow Wife.

~

Nick ducks through the crowds, intent on getting back to the food. He's not in the mood to socialize. Matt, even an entire bed away, snored so bad the night before Nick barely slept, then he overslept and didn't have time to get coffee.

He needs coffee. He needs coffee right now, and all of these assholes are standing in between him and concessions.

"Oh, are you effing kidding me," Nick snarls. Claudio is at the coffee station, probably making infuriatingly cordial small talk. It makes his skin crawl.

"And then, you would not believe it, the TSA agent claimed it was shampoo in my bag!" Claudio finishes his sentence with a stupid European sexy laugh, and the barista laughs with him.

Nick isn't proud of what he does next.

In response, Claudio turns around. "Nicholas," he says pleasantly, "did you just growl at me?"

"You're taking too effing long," Nick says, folding his arms across his chest. "Get your dang coffee and move on."

"Elizabeth," Claudio says, "if you would, could you procure for my friend - "

"I am not your friend."

"For my friend," Claudio says again, glaring at Nick, "an iced vanilla latte?"

"Of course," the barista says, beaming.

"On me," Claudio says. He tucks a few dollars into the tip jar. "Add it to my order, if you please."

Elizabeth the Barista begins making her coffee.

"You," Claudio says, in a voice low and dangerous, "need to watch your tone when speaking to service workers."

"I wasn't speaking to service workers," Nick says. "I was speaking to you, who was in the way of me and my coffee." He pauses. "Thanks, by the way. I guess. You didn't have to do that."

"Clearly I did," Claudio scoffs. "You were about to steamroll the entire room for your coffee."

Nick shrugs, unsure whether to feel touched or condescended to. He decides to feel both.

He shuffles behind Claudio until their coffees are ready, then takes the coffee Claudio shoves into his hand.

"Come now, Nicholas," Claudio says, and Nick is way too cool with it when he puts his hand on the back of Nick's neck to steer him. "I'll get you out of the way of the unsuspecting innocents in order to protect them from your caffeine deprived rage."

"It's not rage," Nick snaps, and he doesn't know why he's okay with being pushed around. He gets guided into a locker room that is thankfully empty. "What are you doing?"

"Like I said," Claudio says, and he kicks the door closed behind him as he sips what is probably some stupid French fancy coffee thing, "you are not in a mood other people should suffer."

"And you're willing to put up with it?" Nick chugs half his coffee in one go of it, and he does feel a little better as the caffeine hits his tongue.

"My goodness," Claudio chuckles. "You do like your coffee."

"It's coffee," Nick says, rolling his eyes. "Of course I like it."

"The moaning was a surprise."

Nick blinks. "Moaning?"

"You moaned when you took a sip," Claudio says, and he locks his eyes on Nick's when he takes his own sip. “Quite a lovely sound, really.”

Nick breaks eye contact and downs the rest of the drink. “No, I didn’t,” he mumbles as he wipes at his mouth.

“You did,” Claudio says. “You are full of surprises.”

“Okay, I’ve had my coffee now,” Nick says, and he’s beginning to wonder if this is how Matt feels, like, all the time. Too seen, too obvious, too noticed. Matt likes it. Nick doesn’t. “Let me out.”

Claudio’s smile is soft as he takes another sip. “I don’t think I will.”

Nick thinks for a second. There’s a window he could jump out of, in the corner. He could manhandle Claudio out of the way, but there’s an element of surprise necessary that he doesn’t have.

There’s the Matt strategy, but he’s not that desperate yet.

He strides toward Claudio and snatches the coffee out of his hands, throwing it back. It’s burning hot and bitter as hell.

“What the hell!” Claudio says. He dissolves into swearing in what Nick can only assume is German.

Nick hands the empty cup back to Claudio. “There. Is that enough caffeine to let me go?”

“Absolutely not,” Claudio says, glaring. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Nick shrugs. “Took you off guard, didn’t it?”

Claudio licks his lips. “Did you really think,” he says, and his voice is dark in a way that gets Nick’s dick way too interested, “that would work?”

Before Claudio can move, Nick walks up to him, closing the distance. “No, but it was funny.”

Nick truly doesn’t know what Claudio’s next move will be. He might smack Nick in the face. He might shove him to the floor. He might move to the side and let Nick leave.

Or, and this is where he curses his relation to Matt, there’s the other move. The one he secretly really wants to happen.

There really is nothing like sex with someone you kind of hate.

“Come on,” Nick says, grinning. “What are you gonna do?”

Claudio makes an exasperated sound, something uncontrolled and spontaneous in a way Nick had never expected before. He puts his hand around Nick’s throat and walks him backward until Nick’s back hits the wall.

Perfect.

“You drank my coffee,” Claudio growls.

“Are you growling at me?” Nick mocks, trying his best to sound like Claudio. It snaps something in Claudio.

He leans down and kisses Nick with fury, with frustration, and it’s the best kiss Nick’s had in ages. Nick fists his hand in Claudio’s shirt, trying to give back as much as he’s getting.

“You absolute prick,” Claudio snarls. “It’s infuriating how you still manage to be attractive.”

“It’s the eyes,” Nick says, angling for casual but sounding, even to his own ears, a little breathless.

Claudio rolls his eyes. “Insufferable,” he grumbles, and then his mouth is back on Nick.

Hands are everywhere, and when Claudio’s giant hand cups Nick’s dick through his jeans, Nick’s knees give out.

“Oh, no,” Claudio murmurs, biting at Nick’s neck. “You stand or we’re done.”

“I – what?” Nick asks. His head is spinning. All he wants is for Claudio to get his hand back on his dick. “Fine. Whatever. Get – come back.”

“Gladly.”

With a single hand, Claudio deftly flicks the button to Nick’s jeans open and pulls down the zipper. He dips his hand in Nick’s pants and Nick has to fight to stay standing.

“Good boy,” Claudio says, and Nick whines so high pitched he wonders if he’ll ever live this down. “I’m going to grab your dick now.”

“Good,” Nick gasps. “So good. Please.”

Claudio looms over him and slides his hand into Nick’s pants. “There you are.” He laughs as Nick bucks up into his hands, too far gone to feel embarrassed about being this desperate. He pulls his hand out and offers two fingers to Nick, who sucks them into his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Look at you,” Claudio says, almost reverently. “You can be so sweet when I shut you up.” He pulls his fingers out and wraps his hand around Nick’s dick.

He knows, he knows, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast. The caffeine is starting to build in his brain, settling a focused weight over his mind that tells him just how effing stupid this whole situation is. He doesn’t care.

He thrusts up into the circle of Claudio’s hand, open mouth pressed against Claudio’s in something that can’t be called a kiss.

“Oh, my god,” he whimpers as Claudio changes his angle. “Claudio – I – I hate you.” He comes so hard his knees do give out, but Claudio’s second hand on his waist pins him to the wall.

Claudio laughs. “This tells me otherwise, Nicholas.” He presses a biting kiss to Nick’s lips.

“Wait,” Nick says. “Wait, I have to…” He trails off and shoves Claudio’s track pants down his hips. He’s momentarily stunned by the size. But he can make this work. He threads his fingers with Claudio’s hand, ignoring how bizarre it is to be using his own come to ease the way of a hand job, but Claudio exhales so shakily that Nick thinks he’s doing something right.

“Turn around,” Nick demands, and shoves Claudio up against the wall. He strokes furiously, quickly, trying to pretend he doesn’t want to feel Claudio’s cock in other places. He’s probably just in a post orgasm haze.

An orgasm brought on by Claudio, his brain reminds him.

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

“I’m not speaking!” Claudio laughs and gasps. “My goodness, are you a handful.”

Nick snorts. “That’s funny. That’s a funny joke. Shut up and come already.”

Claudio pants and they both watch as he pushes his hips up. Nick is fascinated – he’s never seen a dick this big before. When Claudio comes, it’s emphatic and messy and Nick is weirdly smug about how Claudio slides down the wall.

“Hah-hah,” Nick says. “You fell down.”

Claudio stares at him. “You just gave me the – what do the Americans say – hand job of a lifetime, and that’s your response?”

Nick shrugs, hopping to get his pants back up his legs. He’s sticky, but he can shower after his match. “Look, you’re on the ground now, man. I can leave.” He saunters over to the door, then pauses. He turns to Claudio and licks up the come still all over his hand, sure to keep eye contact with the man getting to his feet. “Stop by next time, though. Maybe next time I’ll let you fuck me.”

Claudio scoffs, undignified and real in a way Nick didn’t know he was capable of. “Let me,” he says, shaking his head. “You should be so lucky.”

Nick shrugs as he cleans up the rest of his hand, wiping it on his shirt. “Later, dude. Thanks for the orgasm.” He’s got a new pep in his step as he makes his way down the hallway, waving to people.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Mox asks, passing him. His eyes widen. “And why were you leaving the Blackpool locker room?”

Nick grins at him. “Because Claudio bought me a coffee.”

Mox’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. Then he closes his eyes. “Fucking – of course.”

Nick would ask for more clarification, but Mox walks away. He makes it to the room labeled Elite and pushes his way in.

“Hey,” he says, flopping on the couch. “What’s up?”

“Why are you so chipper?” Matt asks, frowning as he scrubs at a sneaker with a cleaning rag. “What – oh, god.”

“What?” Nick asks. Everything’s back in his pants. He doesn’t looked freshly fucked, he doesn’t think. “What’s your issue?”

“We can tell why you’re in a good mood,” Adam says, nose in a book. He shoves his glasses up his nose, and looks at Nick over the top of his glasses.

“What – yeah, I got coffee,” Nick says. He wills his face to stay neutral. “And?”

“And,” Adam says, and Nick hates it when he uses his teacher voice, “you have come on your shirt.”

Matt wrinkles his nose and goes to his bag. “Shameless,” he says, shaking his head. He chucks a clean shirt at Nick from his luggage. “And right before a title match.”

Nick catches the shirt and pulls the dirty one off over his head, generously avoiding the urge to throw it at Matt’s face. “Title match?” Nick asks. “For the RoH belts?”

Adam nods.

“Against who?”

Matt sighs. “BCC, duh. It’s in the email.”

Nick can’t stop himself from going pale.

“Oh, no,” Adam says, finally putting the book down. “Oh, which one. Please tell me you didn’t fuck Mox.”

“I – no,” Nick says. “God, you two are acting like my parents. Leave me alone.”

“I can’t believe you effed the enemy,” Matt says, shaking his head. “Worst brother ever.”

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Mini Playlist: Brat - Chrissy Chlapecka Fuck - Snow Wife Treat Me Like a Slut - Kim Petras Go Fuck Yourself - Two Feet

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