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buckyownsmylife · 1 year ago

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out of the woods (chris evans x famous!reader smut)

the one where Chris watches an interview of you on the Ellen show

Warnings: mention of small stature in comparison to Chris, smut thoughts, Ellen Degeneres trash talking/thinking, cursing, mention of prescription medicine, talk of age gap (reader is younger than Chris), jacking off, daddy kink

WC: 3k

A/N: this doesn't really have an ending, so if you all like it, I might make a series out of it - the idea is that you are also famous (for acting, singing, writing) and have been friends with Chris but there's always this underlying tension between the two of you. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: no, he's not married in this story nor do I intend to feature Alba in any part of it whatsoever.

Chris’ P.O.V.

I was scrolling through Twitter when I realized some fans were tagging me in a short video of Y/N on Ellen DeGeneres’ show. I knew she had gone there by herself, mostly to promote her new album, but also to give some publicity for our movie, so I was aware that she would probably talk about me at least a bit… Curiosity got the best of me and I clicked the link to check the video for myself.

She looked gorgeous as always, her hair down in that way I loved so much and her skin seemed to be as soft as ever under the mini dress she chose to wear, her legs stretching out and making her look taller than she actually was. I chuckled, remembering just how small she looked by my side.

I remembered one time when I lifted her up, bridal style, and spun her around the pub we had close to the set, after the Patriots had won a game. Despite not understanding the game, she tagged along and celebrated every time I got excited, like the cute person that she was. I got so transfixed by her giggles back then. They were the sweetest sound and the only thing I heard, despite the fact that we were in the middle of a very loud bunch of dudes.

I found myself imagining again, as I had then, what it would be like to have her under me, trapped by my arms in bed, or better yet, against a wall, only my thighs securing her in place while I made her moan with my touch. How would she sound? Or, better yet, how would she feel?

Christ.

Shaking my head, I tried to gather my thoughts so as to not let them stray too far in that direction, something I didn’t have much success in doing, despite the fact that I had been practicing that simple habit every single day since I met her. But it was proving to be a nightmare. She was just far too tempting.

Shaking my head once more, I focused on the video in front of me. My heartbeat had sped up as soon as it started, but I tried to tell myself it was because I was scared for her, since I knew how Ellen could get invasive sometimes.

“So, Y/N…” She started, eyeing my co-star. “You have just finished working on a movie with someone we’re very familiar with, isn’t it?”

Y/N giggled, nodding at the blonde woman. “I suppose so. We have just finished the promotion for it, maybe you guys have already seen it?” She asked the crowd, who went nuts at her. It was sweet to see this kind of feedback, I truly believed in our movie and the fact that I got to know her was just an added bonus.

“For those of you who don’t know what we’re talking about, it’s called ‘Be Here Now’ and it’s currently in a theater near you. Y/N stars alongside Chris Evans, who we love so dearly here, and they play brother and sister as they try to reconnect after their parents' passing.”

More applause at that. I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes at her idea of love. Last time I was there, she made me pretty uncomfortable, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“So, how was the process for you? We know you’re familiar with the filming process, since you star in your own series ‘Evermore’, that sent you to stardom, along with your songs, but you had said before you’d never act outside of it, since your true passion relies on music. What changed your mind?” Ellen sat back as she said that, already comfortable with the fact that something good would come out of this interview, since Y/N had been pretty vocal about what made her decide to do the movie, even with me.

“Chris did, actually. Or, in fact, the fact that he was cast in it.” A chorus of “aws” echoed around the room and there was no way to know if they were real or prompted, but they were quickly interrupted by the host.

“So, you were a fan?” She instigated, as to what Y/N nodded again.

“Of course. Well, my mom more than me, but I was the one who introduced his work to her, so…” She poked her tongue out at the camera, to which my heart (and my cock) jumped in response. “Ever since I got into this, when I first had the idea for Evermore with James, I told him time and time again I would never act outside of this, because I had no intention whatsoever on becoming an actress. I have always been in this for the music. Well, the writing. I’m a writer, I like writing scripts and songs, I’ve fallen into this performer thing by accident. But I’ve always been adamant about the fact that if I ever had the opportunity to act alongside Chris, I’d take it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t think I’m good enough. It didn’t even matter if the script was terrible, which thankfully wasn’t the case, I just really admire him and his work and I would never live with myself if I turned this opportunity down.”

Even though I knew most of this, I couldn’t help but to gloat at the fact that this incredible woman actually admired me. She was so much better than me in so many things, even acting, and she still thought I was great enough to get her to participate in a movie.

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a little crush, that’s right?” And there it was. The coup. Of course. That evil wench…

“That’s what you took out of everything I said? Jesus, Ellen, has anyone ever told you that you listen like a man?” Ouch. That one was perfect. Being the ambassador for females and lesbians everywhere, it couldn’t not hurt her, especially coming from someone as angelical, sweet and universally-loved as Y/N. I appreciated the quick second her smile faltered before it became plastered on her again.

“No, I haven’t heard that before… But tell me, have you met any of the other Marvel actors? I mean, granted, there are a lot of them now, but especially those who have worked closely with Chris?” Y/N shrugged at that.

“I have been friends with Elizabeth Olsen for a very long time, we’re very close, but other than that, no. I haven’t had the chance to properly meet, or rather, hang out with any of them.”

“Who’s first on your list?”

“Anthony Mackie,” Y/N promptly responded, getting a few laughs and claps from the audience.

“My, you had that answer ready” Ellen teased, to which Y/N simply shrugged again.

“We talk through social media sometimes and I know for a fact he’s hilarious. I hope we get to meet sometime. I might just have to bug Chris about it.” She had already, in fact. I couldn’t wait to introduce them to each other and I was already planning my next party just to be able to make that happen.

“What about Sebastian?” Ellen asked, a glinter of something extremely suspicious in her eyes.

“Sebastian Stan? No, we haven’t met, but I’d love to get the chance to someday. He seems extremely sweet and I know he’s very talented and Chris loves him, so I think it’s a matter of time until it happens.”

“I heard somewhere you had a bit of a crush on him, right? Even if you don’t admit that you have one on Chris?” This fucking woman. I could fucking kill her right now. But, to my surprise, Y/N simply laughed.

“Truly, you have got to check your hearing sometime soon, because that is absolutely false.”

“Really?” Ellen pushed, to which Y/N beamed even brighter at her.

“Positive.” A beat as the two women stared at each other down. “I think what you meant is that I have had a huge crush on his character, Bucky Barnes.” Y/N explained, laughing at the host. “I admit that only happened after I saw Sebastian’s portrayal of him, but my attraction to a fictional character can’t be really connected to him.”

Ellen nodded, obviously not paying attention to anything she was just saying. “Well, let’s figure out who do you actually feel attracted to, shall we? Let’s play fuck, marry or kill!”

The audience screamed and, to my surprise, Y/N didn’t even blink, a patient smile painting her lips as she calmly watched the interviewer. “So, Y/N, between Anthony, Sebastian and Chris, who would you rather fuck, marry or kill?”

Y/N shook her head, still smiling at the older woman. “I couldn’t possibly answer truthfully to this question, Ellen, mostly because I am not capable of feeling carnal attraction to people I have never met, but I can 100% assure you that I would marry Chris without blinking twice if there was a choice.”

My heart skipped a beat at her words. The crowd went crazy, obviously satisfied with the answer.

“And you’re sure you don’t have a crush on him?” Ellen’s eyes glistened with mischief, as she stared at the younger woman.

“Ellen, I think the question here is… Are you sure *you don’t have a crush on him?” The laughs from the audience was the last thing to come from the video before it stopped, and I found myself echoing them in the silent living room. Oh my, how I missed this girl.

I tapped my fingers nervously on my jean-clad thigh, looking around the room. I had been staying in Boston with my family for the last few weeks, since the movie premiered and we had finished promotion, and I had found myself constantly calling her to share funny stories from my nephews or to hear about her day. I knew she wanted to meet my family, she had always said she admired the fact that we were so close, despite there being so many of us.

My mom obviously loved her, having been a fan of hers long before I even heard about her existence. So what if…?

Before I could second-guess myself, I pressed call in the name of the woman I had been thinking about. The phone rang three times before she picked up, stopping me from giving up on this crazy idea.

“Hey, Chris! How are you? I missed talking to you, it’s so weird seeing you everyday for four months and then suddenly not at all anymore.” I know I was literally forty, but I literally melted at this girl’s words.

“Did you now? Is that because you wish we were married, so we could see each other everyday?” Her breath hitched as she realized I had seen the video and I could just imagine the cute little embarrassed expression she was probably sporting right now. I tried to ignore the fact that my words and tone of speaking had suddenly become way too similar to when I was flirting with a girl.

“Fuck, you saw the interview.” I had never heard Y/N curse before, so the fact that I suddenly had no control over my mouth could be explained by the unavailability of blood in my head, since it had all gone south.

“Come stay with me for a while,” I spilled suddenly. Silence was the only answer I got from the other side of the call and my heart sped up in a way that only happened when I was truly anxious. I was already cursing myself out for scaring the poor girl when she finally answered.

“Are you serious?” She asked, her voice barely over a whisper. It was obvious how vulnerable she was feeling, and a sense of overprotectiveness overcame me. “Please don’t joke about this, Evans. This better not be a prank. ‘Cause I really do miss you a lot.”

Fuck indeed. There was no way something good would come out of this idea, but there was no way I would go back either.

“Of course I’m being serious. Come to Boston. You can stay with me, but I think my mom is going to steal you before you even settle in.” A large breath came from the other side.

“Okay. Okay! I’m going to pack my bags. Yay! I’m so excited!” She was clearly jumping up and down with the perspective of what was to come, and I couldn’t help the smile that painted my lips not only at her cuteness, but also due to my own excitement at her arrival.

“Great! I’ll be waiting.” My heartbeat still hadn’t gotten back to a normal speed. “Text me the details of your arrival, I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“Chris, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” I knew what she meant. If someone caught sight of us together at the airport, or even the fact that she was here in Boston, all hell would break loose in the press.

“Shhh, don’t worry about it, baby girl. I’ll take care of it.” I froze, only then realizing what I had just called her. A few seconds ticked by while I silently freaked out, wondering how I could brush this over, when she intervened.

“Thanks, Chris. That was pretty much the best thing I’ve ever heard. I just might forgo my prescription medicine while I’m over there, because you’ve been able to completely relax me with just two sentences.” She giggled and if I was at first leaning towards thinking she was sarcastically teasing me, just by the nature of her words, the tone of her voice made it clear that she actually meant what she had just said.

Once again, I was at a loss for words, especially because I couldn’t help but to allow myself to imagine that this was her, flirting with me a little bit. The blood I so desperately needed in my brain had once again left to pump another organ full of life. I was saved from having to answer, though, as Y/N quickly wrapped up the conversation.

“I’ll text you the details of my flight in a little bit. See you soon, angel.” She hung up before I could process the nickname she had given me.

“Fucking hell,” I whispered, finally relenting and getting up from the couch to take a shower to rub one off.

I had found myself in this situation more times than usual after meeting Y/N. Normally, I’d only do it out of boredom, preferring to fuck someone whenever I’d get sexually frustrated. But the last few times I had taken girls from parties into my bedroom, I could only see her. Y/N. And I hated how disgusting I felt after it was done, the fact that I didn’t care about the girl I just fucked and the fact that I imagined my younger friend.

So now I resorted to this kind of activity. As the warm water started to hit my body, I allowed my right hand to travel the extent of my body until I found my hardened member. “Fuck,” I found myself whispering into the bathroom as I tugged on my cock. Images that I had spent a lot of time concocting in my head flashed in front of me, all of them starred by Y/N.

I imagined her nude body here with me, under the falling water. How her breasts would heave with every breath she took. Would she be as filled with desire for me as I was for her? I imagined the path the warm droplets of water would run across her skin and how I wished I could lick its remnants.

Maybe she’d fall to her knees before me, looking up from under her eyelashes with that coy expression that drove me crazy. Her lips would softly kiss the tip of my cock and she’d still be watching me, analyzing my reactions. I would do my best to restrain myself, allowing her to get accustomed to my member, but my hands would eventually find their way to her wet strands, creating a makeshift ponytail that would facilitate my vision of her work while I still managed to control myself and not use it to guide her.

She’d kiss the skin all around my cock, quick little kisses just to tease me before going further down to suck on my balls. I’d throw my head back, begging her to do what I needed, and she’d finally succumb, wrapping her lips around my tip before slowly sucking further down my dick. She’d be relentless, eventually being able to swallow my whole member down her throat, and I would look down again to see her looking up at me with a proud gaze in her eyes.

“Such a good girl,” I would whisper, just before I finally snapped, using my grip on her hair to pull her from my cock until just the tip remained tightly squeezed by her lips, until I pushed her all the way against me again. “Take this fucking cock like the little perfect girl you are for daddy.”

And she’d take it like a pro, a satisfied smile on her lips as I fucked her mouth, eventually breaching into her throat, making her gasp for air, tears in her eyes as her hands flew to my hips in an attempt to slow me down. But she wouldn’t really, opting for simply carving her nails on my flesh as she took every single rope of cum I’d deposit between her eager lips.

Fuck. I let the water wash away the sin I had just committed while sending up a prayer for better control when Y/N arrived. The last thing I needed was to be stuck in the bathroom, touching myself while she was at my house.

#my fics #chris evans smut #chris evans #smut #rpf #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader

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k-evans-reads · 3 months ago

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In Living Color

Chapter 27

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 4,096

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

September 16th, 2022

It didn’t matter that the sun was barely starting to peek in through the windows, or the fact that this week had been nothing short of exhausting for him, or even that he had flown across the country late last night, Chris couldn��t sleep. He had managed to close his eyes and get a few hours of rest, but most of it had been completely restless as his brain swirled with so many noisy thoughts.

Chris laid there in that tiny bed, looking at Nat next to him as she was softly illuminated by the early morning sun and all he could feel was sick to his stomach. He saw the tear stains on her cheeks and bags under her eyes along with feeling how frail her frame was underneath his touch as he rested his hand on her waist and gently brushed her skin with his thumb. He remembered how only months earlier, he had come to San Francisco to make sure that their lives wouldn’t go separate ways. He knew they were meant to be together, he knew he wanted them to be together, so much so that he had that ring that he couldn’t wait to give her.

But in all this time over the summer he had no idea that she was sitting across the country completely miserable and that almost scared him more than anything. How could he have missed all of this? Why hadn’t she plainly told him how much she hated it here? Why did he ever call off his trip here last month and go home instead? How much farther would it have gone if Jamie hadn’t called him? And that was the thought that made his stomach churn.

Tears started falling down his cheeks as he looked at her sleeping next to him and couldn’t help but think that something so easily could have happened to her. How easily it would have been for her to get to even a worse point than she already was without him having a clue. She had been here struggling along with each day completely alone. His body shook with his crying as he thought about losing her, knowing that was something he just couldn’t handle.

He didn’t mean to wake her, wanting her to give her body the rest it so desperately needed but he just couldn’t stop his tears and the noise and shaking caused Nat’s puffy eyes to flutter open as she groggily asked, “Chris? What’s wrong?”

But he couldn’t respond. All he needed then was to feel her. To know she really was here. He wrapped his arms around her delicate frame and pressed himself against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he heavily cried. Nat didn’t ask anything, instead just held him back just as tight and he felt a few of her own tears spilling on him.

There in the stillness and darkness of the morning, Chris whispered, “I could have lost you Nattie. I could have lost you and I didn’t even know what was going on.”

“I…I tried to tell you,” she admitted, her voice shaky and nearly silent. “I just didn’t know how.”

“Promise me if this ever happens again, you’ll be honest. I can’t lose you, Nattie, I just can’t,” Chris told her, feeling his heart race with that thought. He didn’t know how he’d go on if she wasn’t around, how he’d breathe without her by his side, tucked against him everyday.

“I promise I will,” Nat whispered. She took a shuddering breath as she wiped her eyes, adding, “I love you Chris and I just…”

“I know,” he interrupted, nodding a bit to himself. “I love you too, baby.”

He lifted his head, bringing his weepy eyes to look at her before leaning in to kiss her softly, reminding her silently that they were in this together. They were a team and nothing was going to pull them apart. Chris reached over to tuck a piece of curly hair behind her ear before apologizing, “I’m sorry I woke you. Try to go back to sleep, you need the rest.”

Nat nodded, her eyes already beginning to slip shut as the exhaustion once again took over. “Are you going to sleep more?” She mumbled as she rested her head further back against the pillow, rolling onto her side to face Chris.

“I think I’m going to go get some coffee but I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered back, his hand moving up and down her side slowly until she drifted back off to sleep. Once he was sure she was out, he slipped out of the bed slowly, making his way out of the bedroom and shutting the door behind him, finding his mother slowly making her way through the kitchen.

A small sideways smirk slipped onto his lips as he made his way through the small apartment, the floorboards creaking underneath his feet. “So I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep, huh?” He asked quietly, grateful as he watched Lisa turn on the coffee maker.

She looked over her shoulder at him with an arched eyebrow as she replied, “Is that really surprising? You’re just worried about Nat, but I have you to worry about too.”

He nodded in understanding, leaning the small of his back against the old countertop as he stretched his aching, tense muscles. “I just don’t know how this happened,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Did Nat really not say anything about it?”

Chris shrugged as he thought. He’d overanalyzed everything from the last six months, scrolling back in their texts as far as he could, trying to read between the lines. “Well looking back now I remember her telling me how hard it was to settle here and I know I should have asked her more about it but I just never imagined it was like this,” he explained, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “I never should have stayed home before filming, I should have come here and then I would have known.”

“You can’t go back now, honey. But we can help Nat through this,” Lisa encouraged him, filling a mug with coffee and a splash of creamer before she put it on the counter next to him so she could do the same for herself.

“She told me she feels like failing at this job is failing at her dream,” Chris recalled, sighing before he took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t know how to make her see that’s not true.”

Lisa stood across the tiny kitchen from Chris, only a few steps away. “I don’t know that she will see that it isn’t true, because it is true in her mind. I think instead of trying to change her mindset, you just need to be there for her,” she began, and Chris knew she was right, but it seemed like a rather impossible task to get themselves out of this hole.

“I don’t feel like I’ve done a good job at that,” he admitted while he stared down at his feet, his cheeks blushing a bit sheepishly.

“Well you can now,” Lisa encouraged.

“I just feel like this is my fault. Maybe if I wasn’t so busy, or maybe if I hadn’t suggested we go public at the Lightyear premiere things would be better… I know being in the spotlight isn’t something she wanted,” Chris explained, his brows furrowed as he thought back to that day, at how nervous Nat was to see the chatter online after. “I mean, I fuckin’ bought her a ring to propose to her while she was across the country completely miserable.”

“Chris, you can’t try to find the solution in the past,” Lisa told him firmly, and he knew she was right. She nearly always was and she always knew how to guide and encourage not only him and his siblings, but anyone else who came to her for advice as well. “There’s nothing you can do differently about the past, all you can do is handle things right now. I think what you need to focus on is what you know you want.”

He frowned, looking over at her as he asked, “What do you mean?”

“What is it that you want?”

“I just… I just want Nat. I want to be with her and I want her to be okay,” he decided after a moment of thought, knowing that that simple idea was all that mattered to him anymore after seeing just how low she’d been.

Lisa nodded, a warm, comforting smile on her lips. “Then try to come at everything from that angle. Don’t beat yourself up, don’t try to figure out where it went wrong, just remember you love her and want to help her and just try to do those two things right now,” she encouraged.

Chris nodded, knowing that she was right, but it still felt so daunting to him. Seeing just how much Nat was falling apart absolutely terrified him and for her to actually admit how much she hated it here made him aware of just how bad it must be. The heaviness in his heart had him feeling so downcast, thoughts churning over and over in his head while he occupied his time with cleaning up the messy apartment… just another sign at how much Nat was struggling to handle everything.

It wasn’t until both he and Lisa heard movement in the bedroom that Lisa grabbed her purse and told him that she was headed to the grocery store. He knew that Nat’s cabinets were bare but he also was thankful for the space his mother was giving so that they could have some time alone. Chris was just pouring her a cup of coffee when he saw her messy curls poke out of the bedroom, that frail little frame shuffling out as he instantly pulled her into his embrace the moment she was close enough.

“I was going to bring you coffee. Ma went out for a bit to get some groceries, ” he muttered while kissing the top of her head. When she didn’t respond, he dipped his head to look at her distressed face, asking, “Do you want to go back to bed?”

“…I probably shouldn’t,” She bit at her bottom lip, knowing as depressed as she was, she needed to try to get out of the place where she’d spent the majority of her time.

Chris just rubbed her back before glancing over at her couch, situated right by the big window that was letting the morning sunshine pour in and knew that always helped, suggesting, “Let’s just go sit on the couch, honey.”

With her coffee in one hand and his other arm securely around her shoulders, they slowly made their way to the couch. Chris sat down while Nat curled up, her back against the armrest while her legs were resting in Chris’ lap. He draped a blanket over their laps, tucking Nat in before he handed her the coffee and then let his warm hand rub along her leg. He decided not to say anything right now, just letting her sip her coffee. Chris was deep in his thoughts, trying to figure out what the hell to do when he was surprised, finally hearing Nat’s almost unrecognizable small voice hesitantly speak up.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” Nat trailed off, tears instantly clouding her vision as Chris looked at her with such concern, it made her heart ache.

“Don’t know what, baby?” He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but insistent. “You can tell me. I’m here for you.”

“I just don’t know… what to do,” Nat’s voice cracked, her words barely above a whisper. “I’m so miserable, Chris.” She could feel the weight of the world on her chest, and no matter how hard she tried to breathe, it felt like the air just wasn’t enough.

“It’s going to be okay, Nattie.” Chris’s hand found its way to her back, rubbing soothing circles as he tried to calm her. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

“I don’t even know how to figure it out. Everything just feels so overwhelming,” she said, her voice faltering with exhaustion. It felt like she was stuck in a never-ending loop, and no matter which direction she turned, nothing made sense anymore.

“Do you feel like you want to talk it through a little?” Chris asked gently, trying to help her untangle the mess of thoughts swirling in her mind.

“…I just… I just need help,” Nat admitted, her chest tight with the weight of her words. It felt so hard to ask for help, but the longer she fought it, the harder everything became.

“That’s why I’m here, baby. I’m here to help you and I’m not leaving you until we’ve got some solutions,” Chris’s voice was firm yet warm, his determination matching the depth of his love for her. “You told me something earlier that I can’t stop thinking about though… that you failed at your dream.”

“I did,” Nat replied in a hollow voice, the words heavy with defeat.

“Why was this your dream, though?” Chris asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “I mean, Nattie, you’re an artist and a damn good one. That’s a completely different skill set than managing artists.”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly. “I guess I just… I saw my dad work so hard to support my dream all my life, and I wanted to be successful. I wanted to have the job that said I’d made it.” Her voice trembled with the weight of her own vulnerability. “I wanted to make him proud, I guess. I thought if I could prove I’d ‘made it’ in the way he would understand, it would make everything worth it.”

Chris felt a pang in his chest, knowing how deep her desire for approval ran, especially after losing her mom at such a young age. He could see the thread that tied her present struggles to that past pain—her fear of not measuring up, of being the “black sheep” in her family, of never fully fitting into the mold she’d hoped to fill.

“It’s okay that sometimes things don’t work out, though,” he said gently, trying to reassure her. “It’s not a reflection of you, Nattie. At the end of the day, it’s just a job. It’s not who you are.”

Her eyes met his, but there was still that deep fog of uncertainty behind them. Chris’s heart ached as he watched her struggle, as she curled up tighter on the couch, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold it all together.

“Do you want to talk about it more?” he asked, rubbing his hand along her leg, trying to ground her. “I know it’s a lot, but maybe talking it through will help you feel less overwhelmed.”

She was quiet for a moment, tears continuing to streak down her cheeks, her breath shaky. “I just feel stuck. Like no matter what I do, it’s never going to be enough. And I don’t even know where to begin fixing it.”

Chris sighed, feeling the weight of her words sink into him. He didn’t know how to fix it all either, but he knew that the most important thing right now was to be there for her, to hold her while she figured it out.

“Nattie,” he asked, his voice soft but insistent. “When were you the most happy this past year?”

“What do you mean?” She looked up at him, her expression confused as she wiped at her eyes.

“When were you the most happy?” he repeated, his tone encouraging. “What pops into your mind when you think about being happy recently?”

“Oh…” Nat’s eyes drifted downward, her brow furrowing as she tried to sift through the last year in her mind. “Well, I mean, I guess honestly… when I was painting for my art show and…” She hesitated, her voice faltering, “Anytime I’m with you.”

Chris felt a flicker of hope. There it was—the spark of something that still made her feel alive. Art. And him. That was where her happiness lay, even if it felt so far out of reach right now.

“Nattie, you know that I’m going to support you in anything you want to do and I’m going to help you,” Chris said, the conviction in his voice growing stronger. “Maybe we could figure out some ways to make more time for us to be together, for you to do more art for yourself. You know, if that’s something you really want to do.”

“Maybe…” Her voice was hesitant, but Chris could see the wheels turning in her head, the possibility starting to form.

He tried to read her, sensing her internal struggle. “Tell me what you’re thinking, honey. I know it’s a lot to process, but I want to help. I want to understand.”

“I’m not sure.” Nat’s voice was small, almost fragile as she spoke. “I just feel so stuck, like nothing’s moving forward. Like I’m going in circles and I don’t even know what to do.”

Chris gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not alone, Nattie. You don’t have to figure it all out today, or even tomorrow. We can take it one step at a time.”

She met his gaze then, her eyes searching his face, as if she were trying to decide whether she was allowed to say the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

“Do you think you might want to see if you could go back to LA and just do what you were doing?” Chris asked, his tone tentative. “There, you’d be doing character design again and you’d have Jamie and Mark again.”

Nat’s eyes welled up again, and she reached up to wipe at them. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “It’s not about the job, though, Chris. It’s not about what I’m doing. I just… I feel like I’m drowning in it all. I don’t want to go back to that life.”

Chris leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, his thumb swiping under her eyes to catch the tears that kept falling. As he pulled back, Nat reached out for his hand, holding it tightly against her chest.

She looked at him with a newfound clarity, her voice quieter now, but more resolute. “Chris… I want to quit.”

At that one sentence, Chris felt like the air had been knocked out of him. The weight of it was staggering. Nat had always been a workaholic, driven by her ambition and passion. For her to say that she wanted to quit, he knew she had hit her breaking point.

“That’s okay, baby,” he said, his voice steady, though his heart ached for her. “It’s just a job, and you gave it your all. It’s just not the right fit for you.”

“I don’t want to go back to the Burbank office,” she added quietly, as if testing the waters. “I don’t want to do any of this anymore, Chris. I’m happy when I’m with you and when I’m painting, and I… I kind of just want to do that.”

The look on her face told him everything—she was finally giving herself permission to let go of the expectations, to stop chasing someone else’s idea of success.

Chris wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and pressed his face into her neck, letting the warmth of her soothe him as much as he hoped it would soothe her. A few of his own tears slipped out as he let out a breath, one that had been caught in his chest for days.

“I love you so much, Nattie,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You know I’m going to support you in anything you want to do, but I want to see you let go of what you think you need to do and instead focus on what you want to do. Jobs are just jobs, and it’s okay to want to do something different. Something that makes you happy.”

“You don’t think I’m a failure?” she asked softly, the vulnerability still there in her eyes.

“Natalie Marton, you are the farthest thing from a failure,” Chris said firmly, his voice full of conviction. “I just want to see you happy, whether that’s designing characters at Pixar or working at a coffee shop. I love you, Nat. And I don’t think I’ve kept it a secret that I want to be with you forever. I don’t care what you do as long as you’re happy.”

Her eyes softened, and for the first time in a long while, there was a light in them again. “Being with you and doing my art is what would make me happy,” she said, her voice steady for the first time since he’d been there.

Their arms snaked around each other, holding each other so tightly as they both finally felt like everything was going to be okay. Never in a million years did either of them think that when they each started working on Lightyear that it would somehow bring them here together. It brought them a missing piece in each of their lives, giving them each a love that they knew would last their whole lives. They were together and that’s what mattered more than anything.

“I’ll support you no matter what, Nattie,” Chris murmured, gently brushing his lips against her forehead. “You’re not alone in this. You’ve never been alone. And I promise, you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself anymore.”

Nat closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his words, the love in his embrace. In his arms, she felt safe. She felt like she could take a deep breath and finally let go of some of the weight she’d been carrying.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to hope. Hope that she could rebuild, that she could let go of the expectations and just do what felt right. Painting, being with Chris, finding peace within herself—it was all possible. Maybe it wasn’t a clear path yet, but it would be.

They stayed there, in the quiet of the morning, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the apartment seeming far away and unimportant.

Chris gently kissed the top of her head again, then sighed, almost content, as his thoughts turned to the future. “You know,” he murmured, breaking the peaceful silence, “I’ve been carrying something around for a while now… but maybe it’s time to let it out.”

Nat’s eyes opened, curiosity and concern flickering in her gaze. “What is it?” she asked softly.

Chris hesitated for a second before he spoke, his voice full of emotion. “I’ve had a ring for you, Nattie. I was going to propose before all this… before everything happened. But now, I just want you to know that no matter what you decide—what job you take, where you go, what you do—I'm here. I’m in this with you. I want to spend my life with you.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, Nat was silent, letting the weight of them settle between them. Her chest tightened, a fresh wave of emotion washing over her. She had always known how much Chris loved her, but hearing him say it like that—so sure, so unconditionally—made her heart swell.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” Chris smiled, his thumb gently tracing her knuckles. “Just know that whenever you're ready, whenever you want to move forward, we’ll do it together.”

Nat rested her head back on his chest, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude and love. She wasn’t sure how she would get through the storm that had been her life recently, but with Chris by her side, she knew she could face anything.

For the first time in months, she allowed herself to think about a future—one that was different, one where she didn’t have to fit into anyone else’s idea of success, but one where she could be herself. And with Chris, there would be room for that.

It was time for a new dream. A dream of their own.

And whatever that looked like, she was ready to take it on.

A/N: It has been so so long and we are so thrilled to finally close out Nat's story! To those of you who have patiently waited, we cannot thank you enough for loving her. We do have a little summary of their future we will post in a few days as well. We hope it was worth the wait.

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year ago

Text

not used to normal ~ chris evans

word count: 2533

request?: yes!

@vrittivsanghavi

“Hey! I love your imagines!

Would you be up for writing one with chris x reader? Something similar to this song?

Love youuu”

description: in which she struggles to adjust to normal after a toxic relationship, but he’s willing to help her figure it out

pairing: chris evans x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of a toxic relationship, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

You and Chris could not be more different. Your entire life was chaos and mess, from your family to your past relationships. Your definition of “normal” was leagues different than most people’s. Then there was Chris, who had the healthiest family out of anyone you had ever known and, for the most part, he didn’t have anything bad to say about his exes and their relationships. He just said the relationships came to an amicable end.

You were just out of a particularly toxic relationship when you met Chris. You weren’t looking for another serious relationship and were instead just hooking up for some rebounds. Chris was very sweet, but you couldn’t let yourself fall for him. You weren't ready to let someone in, even if they were sweet and incredibly handsome. You were a little surprised when Chris was so understanding of your rejection, and something told you to give him your number anyway to keep in touch.

That was a few months ago, and now you were going on your first date.

He hadn’t pushed for it to happen. He had been very respectful and hadn’t once brought up going out again since your initial meeting. To your surprise, you were the one who asked him about getting dinner. You found yourself falling for him with every passing day and eventually you just couldn’t stand being only friends. And thus, you asked him out for dinner and he happily agreed.

You were mere minutes away from Chris coming to pick you up and you were still struggling to find an outfit. Everything in your closet gelt wrong. Jeans and a blouse? Too casual. A long, elegant dress? Too fancy. A maroon cocktail dress that was just above the knee, had spaghetti straps, and showed off a little cleavage? Well, you really liked that one actually. You thought with the right makeup and maybe a cardigan just in case, that it could be the perfect first date dress.

But you couldn’t stop the nagging voice in your head. It sounded like your ex, and he was snapping at you for wearing something so short and revealing. You could hear the insulting names he had called you so vividly, as if he were still there yelling.

You had to remind yourself that your ex wasn’t here anymore. Even if he was, he had no control over what you wore. No one did, besides you. But even reminding yourself of that didn’t do anything to ease the memory of his voice. Before you knew it, so much time had passed and you were still staring at yourself in the mirror. Chris would be here any minute and you still didn’t have your hair or makeup done.

You were just finishing your hair when a knock came at your front door. You cursed under your breath as you raced to answer it. Chris was stood there, looking handsome as ever. You couldn’t help but smile upon seeing him.

“Hey,” you said. “You look great.”

“So do you,” he said.

You shook your head. “Ah, I’m not fully ready yet. I don’t have my makeup on or anything.”

You were stunned into silence at his comment. You were almost tempted to call his bluff on it; to say you didn’t believe that he actually meant it and was just saying it for your sake. But you knew Chris was an honest man. He genuinely thought you were beautiful without makeup.

There wasn’t any time for you to try and do your makeup anyways, so you grabbed your purse and followed Chris out to his car. Like a gentleman, he held the door open for you as you got in. The ride to the restaurant was mostly some small talk. Since you two had been talking for months, you had already gotten past the getting to know each other phase, which was good because you usually hated that phase, but it made first date conversation incredibly awkward.

He opened the door for you again and even offered you a hand to help you out of his car. You were continuously shocked by how much of a gentleman he was. You made a mental note to send his mom a bouquet of her favorite flowers.

The restaurant was one of the most fancy places you had ever been to. You had been to a number of fine dining places before, but nothing as upscale as this. Looking at the prices on the menu almost made you nauseous. It was the one moment you were grateful for Chris’ celebrity status.

He ordered a bottle of wine for the two of you to share. After pouring up two glasses, he raised his glass towards you.

“What are we toasting to?” you asked.

“You decide,” he said.

You thought for a moment before saying, “To finally giving this a chance.”

His smile was like a child on Christmas morning.

You ordered an appetizer and your entrees. When the appetizers came out first, Chris started digging in right away. You hesitated, another unwelcome memory coming up in your mind: your ex telling you how gross you looked when you ate. He had told you it was his biggest pet peeve about you. You tried so many times to fix the problem, but it never worked and he just continued to complain.

“Are you okay?” Chris asked, bringing you back to reality.

“Oh, yeah,” you said. “Just zoned out, sorry.”

You took some of the appetizer onto your small plate and began eating, being mindful of taking small bites and covering your mouth as you chewed. When your main course came, you repeated the process.

“I’m not used to knowing so much about someone before the first date,” Chris said at some point after the two of you had been silent for a while. “It kind of takes away every talking point I had.”

You chuckled. “I was thinking the same thing. Like, what do people who know each other even talk about on first dates? The weather?”

“Well, you’ve never told me much about your family. Maybe we could talk about that, if you want.”

Your smile faltered, but only a little. You hoped Chris didn’t notice.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love your family. You did, very much so. And they weren’t bad people or anything. They were just messier than Chris’ family, so to speak. Your parents had gone through a messy divorce, the kind where they still hated each other’s guts to that day. They couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as one another. When you graduated, you had to have them sit on complete opposite ends of the auditorium for your cap and gown ceremony. You were an only child, and you had a good connection with both of your parents. There was just always some sort of crisis between them, and they always managed to drag you into the middle of it.

“It’s just me, no siblings,” you started. “My parents got divorced when I was a kid.”

“How young?”

“I was like, five or six I think?”

Chris whistled. “That’s rough. I thought it was hard when mine got divorced when I was 18.”

There was some comfort in knowing that Chris was also a child of divorce. At least his home life wasn’t as picture perfect.

“Do they get along, at least?” he asked.

You laughed, humorlessly. “Yeah, they get along about as well as cats and dogs. Actually, that’s giving them too much credit. They get along as well as cats and mice.”

“Jesus. I can’t imagine having to deal with that at such a young age.”

“Be lucky you didn’t have to.”

You tried not to sound too bitter, but you also couldn’t help but stab your food with your fork as if it had personally offended you.

“I think their divorce must have something to do with why I usually date such shitty men,” you said before you could stop yourself. Your eyes widened as you looked back up at Chris. “Ignore that. I don’t even know where that came from.”

But he didn’t seem offended or weirded out by what you said. Instead, he responded, “It’s alright. You mentioned you had a bad breakup when we first met. I assume he was also a bad person in general.”

You nodded. “You have no idea.”

You thought back every time you heard your ex’s voice in your head. Not just tonight, but in general. Even when you were just trying to go about your day to day life, you could hear the way he criticized and berated you. You had always known while you were in your relationship that he wasn’t a good guy, but you turned a blind eye to the red flags for so long that it just felt like a normal relationship. It took a lot to get you to finally come to your senses and dump his sorry ass, but by that point the damage had been done. He gave you trauma that you would be carrying around for a very long time.

You glanced up at Chris, who was still looking at you as well. You wondered if he really deserved to be with someone with so much baggage. Sure, he liked you now, but how much would he like you once he knew what he was dealing with? He was such a nice guy, he deserved to be with someone else who was just as nice and not damaged as he was.

The thought brought tears to your eyes and you quickly looked away from him. Not quick enough, though, as his hand quickly reached over to take hold of yours and he said, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

A noise came out of you that was half laugh and half sob. You shook your head. “You didn’t make me upset. Trust me, you’ve made me very happy in the few months that we’ve known one another. You are one of the most genuinely good people I think I have ever met.”

“Thanks, I pride myself on not being an asshole.”

When you laughed this time, it was definitely just a laugh. “I just worry that...if things go further with us, that it won’t be good for you.”

He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, my last relationship went on for a long time. Far too long. To a point where the only thing I knew was a toxic and shitty relationship. I have a lot of bad hardwiring in my brain right now around relationships. That’s why I turned you down when we first met. I wasn’t ready to get back into anything serious because I was too afraid. But I really like you, so I wanted to give this a try, and now I’m worried that my baggage is going to be too much for you to handle and you don’t deserve that.”

He squeezed your hand, which caused you to stop talking. You realized you had been rambling, and you weren’t really sure if you were making any sense.

“Listen, I understand,” he said. “When something like that happens, it fucks with your mind for a long time. I never wanted to rush you into something you weren’t ready for, but I also don’t want you to push me away because you think it will be better for me. Whether you want me to be a friend or a boyfriend, I’ll be here for you. I’ll help you through whatever you’re going through. I really like you, too.”

You tried to blink back the new tears that were forming in your eyes, but it was nearly impossible. To try and lighten the mood, you joked, “Stop being such a good guy. Seriously, have one flaw please.”

He laughed, and the mood was successfully lightened.

You continued on with your date and it went very well from there on. You were so full from your appetizer and meal, but Chris insisted on ordering a dessert to take with you. He said it was some of the best dessert he had ever had, and if you didn’t eat it now you had to have it later on (his words).

He paid for your meal and the two of you left. It had gotten a bit colder while you were inside, and you only then realized that you forgot to bring a cardigan like you planned. You shivered as the cold air touched your bare shoulders and legs, and wrapped your arms around yourself to try and retain any heat you had left from being in the restaurant.

“Are you cold?” Chris asked.

“Yeah, I forgot to bring a jacket or anything,” you responded. He started to shrug out of his jacket. “You don’t have to give me yours! Your car isn’t parked that far away.”

“Once you catch a chill, it’s hard to get rid of,” he explained. “Here, just wear it till we get to the car at least.”

He wrapped his jacket around your shoulders. You pulled it close to you, letting the heat from it warm you up. You took a moment to breathe in the scent of him that was on the jacket.

The ride home was more lively than before. You had managed to finally find a good conversational stride that hadn’t died down since you had been eating. At some point while driving you home, Chris reached over to take your hand in his. He held it the rest of the way back to your place. You hoped he couldn’t feel the fact that your body was on fire just from his touch.

He insisted on walking you to your front door once he had reached your house. You weren’t about to say no. You almost didn’t want the night to end and any amount of extra time you could get you were going to take.

“I had a great time tonight,” you told him once you had reached your door.

“So great that you’d like to do it again?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face.

You smiled and nodded. “I would very much like to do this again, yes.”

“Great. Okay. Yeah, great.”

You giggled. The two of you lingered for a moment. You wondered which of you was going to break and leave first.

“Can I kiss you?” he finally asked after some time.

Instead of responding, you moved to kiss him first. It wasn’t perfect, you kind of lunged at him at first. You both stumbled and laughed about it. Once you had regained yourselves, Chris kissed you again. This one was definitely better than the first, but now it also made it difficult to want to stop kissing.

When Chris finally pulled away, you tried to follow him, but he laughed and held you back.

“If I don’t stop, I won’t leave,” he said.

“That doesn’t sound too terrible, though.”

He shook his head, but had an amused smile on his face. He kissed your forehead and took a step back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You couldn’t stop smiling until you fell asleep.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #rpf

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years ago

Text

Make Me Series Masterlist

Summary: Feeling bratty, you decide to test your man's patience. Too bad it's looking like your mouth just wrote a check that your ass can't cash.

Warnings: Daddy!Kink, Smut, Brat!Reader, Some DubCon, Degradation, Ass Play, Spanking (With Implements), Butt Plugs, Manhandling, Light Bondage, Minor Chase Kink, Games, Cursing, Minors DNI

Notes: The following is the first bit of Fanfiction I ever wrote for Tumblr. Although I've recently made a few minor edits, I am no longer currently writing Chris Evans RPF. Please heed the warnings and let me know what you think. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged. ___

Make Me: Part One - Always give Daddy what he wants.

Make Me: Part Two - You disobeyed Daddy. Now it's time to run.

Make Me: Part Three - Daddy wants to know if you’re gonna take your punishment like a good girl.

Cereal Brats: A Make Me Series Drabble - You decide to test your Daddy's patience while out grocery shopping.

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fandomfluffandfuck · 10 months ago

Note

Subbing (ha!) via ask so I can be anon

I would give my firstborn for you to write just about any M/F especially if it was another CE/Reader like "You Heard the Rumour about these Legs."

Honestly I will read and adore anything you write but that is one of my absolute all time fics and I'd go absolutely feral for more like it

"You Heard The Rumors 'Bout These Legs, Well I'm The One Who Spread 'Em"

Lmao, good to know 👀 Though I promise I don't need your firstborn 💀💀 and thank you, I'm so glad you enjoy my writing! 😘

So, of course, taking inspiration from your ask and the man, the myth, the legend himself--

Chris Evans × female!reader with tonguing, fingering, fucking, and jerking off. All that fun shit 😏

Chris is many things to many people. To you, though, Chris has always been a gentleman in and out of the proverbial bedroom (or the very literal bedroom, kitchen, living room, or car, or... y'know it doesn't matter where, just that you're alone and willing. And how could you not be willing when he looks and acts like that, anything he wants with you, he can have. You shiver just thinking about it). Chris always starts as a gentleman, at least.

As foreplay melts into something hotter and thicker, totally irrestable as the lust between you burned and crackled, Chris is still polite and kind and even serving toward you, yet...

Once he's spent some good time lavishing attention on you, pulling an orgasm or a few from you as if you're a marionette on strings that he's mastered and he can make fold and sing however he pleases, some of that polite nature melts away. It's not that he's rude. It's simply primal--and it's so goddamn sexy. You can hardly take it, your thighs pressing together, flexing, trying to make sense of the sticky, hot wash of arousal that always comes crashing over you. Because, damn, as much as you ache when he takes care to make sure your filled with lust and sparks, walking you closer and closer and closer to the edge with each touch, making you cum and then making you cum again, it's worse, better, when his patience is worn down, thinned, and he gets swept up in the pulsing, persuasive current of his arousal. The sensation buzzes underneath his skin like a live wire that demands his attention. He loses himself to it. So, suddenly, there's no room to think about giving you, and you alone, more and more. He has to take something for himself.

You want him to take it all.

Take you.

Have you.

Fuck you.

You've had enough. You don't need more when he gets like that; you could subsist off of the second-hand pleasure from him.

Christ.

It makes you feel sinful and powerful, the way he takes his pleasure from you. How he reacts to you. How he can't have enough of you. You're just too damn much for him to stand in the most erotic way.

Yeah, yeah, he can have you.

This time, when he reaches that point--his flesh and muscle melted down, leaving no strength, no defense to resist the bone-deep need he feels--he's already done so much. Given you so much.

Jesus Christ.

He's already gone down on you, his mouth putting in work between your legs, shameless and unrestrained with his tongue and lips and just that daring, dangerous hint of teeth with the sharp, heated edges of his beard.

You came with his beard scratching against your sensitive skin, hot, wet, hot, wet, so hot and wet, sofuckingwet, making you feel so wet. Shivering with the friction of his bearded jaw as it fucking started a fire but the fire is molten liquid that feels as if it's almost gushing from inside you. Flames consuming your body from the inside out. Fuck, Chris knows just how to stoke the flames, too. He strokes and rubs and presses with his tongue and lips and bearded jaw, even his nose, bumping your clit at the fucking perfect moment, keeping you purring. Roaring. If he's not fucking careful you'll burn the house down.

Ah!

He's already fingered you, too, working you to the brink and making you crash over it with his thick fingers curling inside you.

His fingers urge c'mere, c'mere, c'mere from within you, beckoning against that spot that makes your eyes roll back, a gasping moan overflowing from your lips, humid and all rasping breath. You'll go anywhere he tells you to, and you won't think twice, your back arching into a curve so deep you know you'll feel it in your muscles later. You don't care. You just want him to do it again.

A-again, oh, God, please, again, Chris!

And he's already fucked you, too. His rhythm filthy and fluid, unstopping, just building gloriously, with his thrusts carving deep enough to make you pant, at just the right angle to leave your nails digging into his shoulders, and then, God, then, sliding his hand sensually, heavily down your stomach to press the heel of his palm against your clit as he works, leaving you unable to shut your mouth, nearly drooling. Every time he thrusts inside you, your body arches and shudders as if possessed by animal lust and your clit rubs against his palm like a firework exploding.

Arousal curled so tightly inside you that it hurt. The pressure against your clit, the thickness of him inside you, the sounds of your bodies together adding to it divinely. Deliciously. God. God, it was all just biting and rough enough that you came clenching desperately around his cock, split open yet tangled into a tight, tight, tight knot.

Now, exhausted and just on the knifes edge of raw, pain mixing into your pleasure like venom that burns so sweetly yet leaves you limp and helpless, you're somehow still heated. You blame him. Jesus Christ. He's a fucking dog under all that pretty and polite. Bastard. How he keeps fucking fuck-just fucking going is beyond you sometimes. You're never going to tell him that, though. Then he might stop.

Nothing could be worse than him stopping.

You're hot everywhere and you can feel yourself dripping when he pulls his cock out of you with a lewd squelch that just fucking ties back into your fever. Bastard. He's the worst. How could he do this to you!? Oh, God, that fucking soaked sound echos through your head--his dick pulling out of your clenching pussy, clenching trying to fucking keep him where he belongs, deep and heavy inside you--and turns your vision to static. More and more, the longer you have to deal with that on loop in your head without anything other sensory input to drown it out and leave you thoughtless, you turn into static.

Squelch.

You hear it. You feel it. You're soaked.

Yet, he doesn't fuck back in, splitting you again, and finish like you expect. Like you want. You ache without him, you're so open, shivering and almost cold without the heat of him draped across you--shoved inside you.

Instead of fucking you until he cums, thrusts sloppier and messier now that he's focused on the pleasure tearing through him on a rampage, his hands glide over your goosebump-ed, slick skin. You're sweating so badly. You're leaking, too. More. Dripping. You need him. You don't need more, you might not be able to cum again, too much too soon, too good, but you want him to do whatever he wants to you. Desperately, you want it. It's all you can think about. All-consuming and ravenous.

As you shiver, weak and strung out, he turns your spread, melted body over, letting you soak into the sheets like butter on hot toast, and pulls you onto your knees.

Just onto your knees, getting them underneath you. He doesn't bother to untangle your fists from the messy sheets when you grab them, needing something to hold onto as anticipation wracks you. Despite how weak you feel, over-satiated and shaking, he knows he won't be able to rip you off of them. Fisting the sheets, you're too overwhelmed and wound too tight despite having cum multiple times already. He just needs you on your knees. He just--

He just needs you.

He can have you for his own desires. Anything. Everything.

Your blushing face and tits are pressed wantonly into the mused bed as your chest heaves. You're moaning wetly, breathily, into the mattress, hardly muffled at all with the lust he stirs in you as his big, heavy hands run up your back. His blunt fingernails stretch just a touch, that delicious bit of recklessness surging through. It feels so good. It must look good, too, because he groans deeply as you instinctively arch for him. And, oh, fuck--

Oh.

Oh, yesss.

You urgently fight your shaking, well-used muscles to arch just a little deeper, spread your thighs just a bit wider, and grasp the sheets just a little bit more in response to the dizzying slick sounds of his fist flying tightly over his cock. He's wet, too. Dripping with you. Using your wetness to slick himself. So shameless about it. And, shit, his voice chases the desperate sounds of he grips himself, a noise of agonized arousal, almost too turned on by you. A kick to the chest. Painful with how he's held off, devastated by the way it feels to let go.

It feels so good. It rolls off of him in waves as he grits out a few swears from behind you, jerking himself off frantically, that Boston accent coming out full force, cutting his filthy mouthed swears off at the end.

Fuckin', Jesus fuckin' Christ, baby.

Oh, the way that fills you with hot, clenching need all over again...

Want isn't a strong enough word. Need isn't strong enough, either. The way it makes you feel is insane; the way he makes you feel is insane with his eyes heated as they stare at your body, dragging across your skin in the most sultry way, all but sizzling, gazing at you so intensely you feel it through your whole body. Ripples of pleasure, just from being so thoroughly enjoyed. Stared at like that.

Fuck, it's like being prey, but you want it. You want to be torn into. You gasp with anticipation every time his teeth loom nearer, poised to bite down and make a feast of you--the sticky, leaking head of his cock keeps brushing hotly against your ass, his breath humid as it fans out against your skin. He's gone from kneeling upright behind you, taking you in, to curling forward, so attracted to you it's like gravity. Crumbling. He just can't help it.

Again, again, and again, his hips jerk forward instinctively. Fucking forward. Bucking needily. And you just keep choking on the sensation of his cock against your ass, smearing his pre-cum and your own slick wetness into you. God. Your thighs slide apart wider without your conscious mind having anything to say about it. He's so painstakingly close.

He could just--

He could slide right in. You're so wet. Wetter now, probably, then he was when he was inside you. It's just building. Building. Soaking. You're dripping, you swear it, melting from the inside out. If only he'd just--

He would hardly have to shift and he could fuck right into you!

He could do no work at all and shove himself inside, go back to filling you up. Fucking you hard. Carving space for himself inside your hot, wet, tight body and make you heavy with cock.

You want it so bad that your pussy throbs with your pounding heart. Frantic. A raw moan comes careening out of your mouth. You didn't even realize your mouth was still wide open, panting, chest heaving, heart racing faster.

As you struggle to breathe around the rising immense arousal inside you despite your emptied exhaustion from orgasming before, all the oxygen you get just makes you ignite more. Feeding the fire. Combusting hotly. Brightly. You feel all swollen and tight. Wet. You can hardly take it.

You can't take it!

Next, something of a whine surges out of your lungs. With each heave of your chest, you can feel your hard nipples brush against the sheets. You just feel tighter and tighter. Each time his cock brushes you, just the tip, each wet squelch of his fist, speeding up now, chasing and urgent, each sound he let's out, each gruff word he let's slip, swearing and saying your name, admiring you, using you, desperate to claim you until--

Ah, ah, ah! Ohh, God!

He does.

He cums wet and filthy across your presented ass with the most delicious sound and all the muscles under your too tight, feverish skin ripple all at once. And you sigh roughly. Raw, sandpaper edges to the sound. You're still fucking throbbing but you could--you could live, you could die happily with the sensation of his release soaking into your skin. You would ache but it would be more than enough, enough now and enough later to dive between your own thighs and touch yourself when he's not home later, on set, working, dipping your fingers into your own mess, stifling your sounds into his pillow, dreaming of the way he makes you feel, cumming to what he does to you.

You don't ache for long, though. You hardly have the time to think, to breathe before he's there. Here. He has you.

All he has to do to get you off is drag his fingers through the mess he's made across your ass and use it, as if he needs it, you're so drenched, to rub tight, fast circles around your clit.

OH!

It shocks you.

Electric.

So fittingly, lightning fast, one of your hands darts down to hold his hand there, fingers around his wrist as you uncontrollably gasp and plead for him to do that, yes, please, more, oh, ohh, Chris, yes! Just! Mmmgh! Just like th-thaaat! Reaching forward between your legs and touching, rubbing, merciless where you're most swollen and sensitive is nearly crewl at this point. It's murder. You mewl, grinding into the pressure, riding and riding the waves. It lasts. It really fucking lasts.

By the time you're done, you're more than exhausted and drenched. You already were those things, so what are you now? Not that it matters. You can't think. Your brain has turned to liquid and dripped out of your ears.

Giving up, your thighs slide apart shakily, leaving your heated, swollen slit to be revealed to the sex-thick air of the bedroom as you run across the bed like spilled ink, spread open and exposed. Messy. With the last of the air in your tender chest, you gasp--the air feels so shockingly cold, caressing your flesh. But you can't even speak to say so. It's so much. Overwhelming in every way. How does he do this to you? How does he manage to get so much from you? How does he manage to be kind and servicing and selfish and a fucking bastard? It's not fair! He drives you out of your mind, out of your body.

I hope that suffices 😘

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #x reader #rpf #real person fanfiction

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f10werfae · 2 years ago

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Updated all my masterlists!!

Chris Evans + Characters Masterlist

Henry Cavill + Characters Masterlist

Lumberjack!Henry Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Hope you all enjoy!! Although some older links may not work due to Tumblr’s bug; hopefully it’s not too much of an inconvenience 🫶

#tom holland x reader #chris evans x reader #henry cavill x reader #ari levinson x reader #syverson x reader #lumberjack!henry cavill #pedro pascal x reader #chris evans #henry cavill #tom holland #pedro pascal #rpf #romance #chris evans masterlist #tom holland masterlist #henry cavill masterlist #pedro pascal masterlist

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holylulusworld · 2 years ago

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Nrfth (1) - Dreams do come true

Summary: A dream shattered. A heart broken.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Actress!Reader

Characters: OC Tracey

Warnings: fangirling, nervous reader, language

A/N: This series is a “short” chapter story. It contains of a collection of drabbles.

>> Prologue

“You’ve got this babe. Go in there, show them what they are sign up for if they hire you, and blow their minds,” Tracey is as excited as you are. “I knew you are going to film movies with Chris Evans one day.”

“Trace, it’s only thanks to you and Noah. He’s…a genius. I looked like a movie star in his movie. I’ll be forever grateful for the chance I got because of you two.”

“Babe, invite me to one red-carpet event, call me your favorite bitch when they ask you who I am, and we are even,” she snickers.

“Fuck, I’m so nervous,” you chew on your lower lip. “What if I fuck this up? This could be the only chance to land a role in the Marvel universe. If I fail now, everyone will remember.”

“I’ll tell you this only once,” Tracy says. She cups your face and forces you to breathe with her. “You are beautiful, strong, talented, and the biggest bitch in the Marvel universe. You can kick ass.”

“I can’t kick ass during the casting,” you laugh at Tracey’s determined look. She believes in you like no one else. “But I’ll give my all to land the role. And, if I walk over the red carpet for the first time, you’ll be by my side.”

The door finally opens again. Another disappointed-looking girl steps outside, sighing deeply. She’s prettier than you, and you remember her face from a show you watched a few weeks ago. If she didn’t land the role. How shall you get it?

“Next,” the annoyed voice of the woman hosting the audition catches your attention. You tear your eyes away from the girl leaving without the role and focus on your chance.

“That’s me,” you confidentially say. This is it. Your chance to land a role.

If you do this right, you can film next to Chris Evans. Or at least be on the same set. Your agent said it’s possible that you never even meet Chris.

It doesn’t matter, though. Even if it’s a small role, you can say you made it. “Hi. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. You called my agent and—”

She raises her hand to stop you from talking too much. “Follow me. This way.”

She guides you toward a different room. You sigh. Maybe you don’t even get the chance to show them that you are a great actress.

“I-I thought you wanted me to come here.”

You follow her along the hallways, sighing as she won’t talk to you. “Go in there and read the lines we sent to your agent.” She finally says. The woman looks you up and down and gives you a half-smile. “Don’t freak out, okay? He’s only an actor.”

Holy fuck…no…really…holy fuck. Your breath hitches in your throat when you enter the room as Chris Evans stands there, holding the script in his hands.

“Ms. Y/L/N, welcome to the audition. You got the script we hope,” another woman asks.

“Yeah. Uh—thank you for giving me this chance. I got the script and practiced the lines,” you say.

Taking a deep breath, you open your bag to get the script out.

“Alright, can you read the first lines? Just to get into the scene?” the woman from earlier asks. She gives you a quick smile, knowing that you must be nervous around the star of the Marvel universe.

“Sure,” you hastily say. “I’ll enter the room, check the surroundings, and get my gun out,” you recite the entrance scene of your character. “Things get heated, I’m surrounded by Hydra agents, and then…a bullet hits me. The agents storm toward me right when…”

“I break through the wall,” Chris uses his captain voice. He strides towards you, looking you straight in the eyes. “Miss? Miss, are you alright?”

It’s Captain America looking at you, not the actor behind him.

“Captain America?” you fall into the roll. You pant and clutch your lower abdomen. “I got shot,” you fall to your knees, just like described in the script. “My partner…I need to find him, Captain.”

“You got hurt.”

“I can do this…” you whisper, faking losing consciousness. “Please, Captain. Don’t let them get him.”

That’s the end of the script for you. You want to end the scene and get back up. But Chris drops the script in his hands to pick up in bridal style.

It’s a struggle to not squeal, swoon, or drool when he carries you toward the couch in the room. He’s still in his role when he looks at you in his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he ends the scene with his line, and you are sure your heart stops beating for a moment when he leans closer to whisper. “I can do this all day…”

“HOLY FUCK BABE!” Tracey raises her glass at you. “You are going to be a famous movie star and bang Chris Evans.”

“Babe, I won’t bang anyone. And my role is still small. I don’t even know if my character will survive the first episode,” you try to make her see, this role can mean your breakthrough or just a few bucks on your bank account. “You know how it is. The sidekick always ends up dead…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x actress!reader #Nrfth (1) - Dreams do come true #tw: rpf #chris evans angst

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impala-dreamer · 1 year ago

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Just A Few More

A Short Story

~Sometimes you mess up and have to lay back and accept your punishment.~

Chris Evans x F!Reader

573 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Forced Orgasms. Light Bondage. Punishment.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

His hands felt like fire on your skin. Every touch was like a thousand shocks of electricity pounding into your body, forcing you to cry out as his fingers slid into your slick heat. The screams grew louder and louder but he would not relent.

This was your punishment and Chris was an expert executioner.

Ropes bound your wrists and ankles to the giant bed, pillows made of down and blankets so soft you could cry cradled your writhing body, and Chris stood above, his bare chest glistening with sweat, his blue eyes clear and focused on your pleasure.

“Please!”

Your scream went unappreciated and his fingers curled deep inside, stroking again and again until your legs shook around his wrist.

“Go on, Kitten,” he said softly, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit. “Cum for me like a good girl.”

“I can’t! I can’t anymore! Please!” Your head thrashed from side to side as your stomach clenched, the muscles in your body protesting another climax. “I’ll die!”

A devilish smirk passed his plump lips and Chris chuckled. “You won’t die, I promise you that.” The digit on your clit thrummed faster. “You may pass out… but I won’t let you die.”

The absolute surety in his voice made you shiver and the orgasm struck without your consent. It flooded your body with a rolling pleasure that exited your system through a wide-mouthed cry, but still, Chris would not let up.

He rubbed slower, yes, but just as confidently.

Your clit was aching, cunt raw and slick.

“N-no more, please…”

In a moment of mercy, Chris withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his lips, slowly licking himself clean of your mess.

“You taste divine.”

With the oxygen returning to your brain, his image became sharper in your vision. “Please…” It was all you could muster. Every cell was alive, each molecule of your being on edge and overstimulated.

It had been hours.

“Please what?” he asked, sliding down over you, strong arms holding him up as he hovered between your outstretched body.

“P-please no more,” you panted, exhausted. “I can’t cum anymore. I can’t.”

Biting his lip, Chris considered your request. You could see the wheels turning behind his crystal eyes. Slowly, the juicy bottom lip reappeared and he licked at the dent his teeth had made.

“No,” he said simply. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson just yet.”

Excitement and fear swirled in your gut. “No. No, I have! I promise.”

A single finger touched your lips and you stilled, falling silent but for your quick breaths. “You were flirting with that reporter. Full on flirting. Right in front of me. That cannot go unpunished.” Chris slid his finger down your chin, cut a line through your throat and straight down until he reached your cunt. “Just a few more, I think.” Three fingers slapped against your clit and you recoiled, arms and legs tugging on your bindings.

“Fuck!”

He kissed you silent, his eyes wide, staring deep into you. “Soon.”

And then he was gone, kissing his way down your body; a man on a mission. He settled between your thighs and blew a light breath across your slit, sparkling the arousal once more.

“Maybe next time you’ll remember who you belong to…”

There was a response in you, a promise to never ever forget again, but everything faded away as his tongue swept across your sore cunt.

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05

Written especially for @because-imma-lady-assface

#marvel fanfiction #marvel rpf #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #drabble

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brooklynbear32 · 2 months ago

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Chapter 8: Control

Pairing: Chris Evans/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Read on AO3 or see the tumblr masterlist

You and Chris were catching your breath after what was easily the most athletic sex you’ve ever had. Of course, he was the one who put in most of the work, but sex is a team sport. You’d come over for dinner after work and then he fucked you in the kitchenette of his hotel room. It was the sort of straight-forward, ecstatic sex you’d only ever dreamed of before.

Neither of you have spoken for a while, just enjoying each other’s company as you come down. Your head is pillowed on his chest and you’re tracing the lines of his eagle tattoo, but mostly you're just replaying everything that just happened in your mind.

“Do I ever get a little rough with you in your fantasies, Sweetheart?” He asks, his eyes dark.

“Yeah,” you manage to gasp out and he smiles.

“Good.” He says, and his hand moves to your neck, not choking you at all, just holding it gently. “I do when I fantasize about you.”

"Wait!" You say, the word out of your mouth before you even decide to say it.

He startles beside you, and when you turn to look at him, you see his eyelids flutter like he's forcing himself out of sleep.

"Sorry," you say, more softly, a hand coming up to his cheek. It had been a long day, and if you’d realized he was drifting off, you would have kept your mouth shut. "Everything's fine."

He smiles, dozily at you. "What's up, Sunshine?"

"I just – have you really fantasized about me?" You ask, a little shy.

His eyes search your face, as if unsure what response you're hoping for.

"Yeah, Sweetheart, I really have." He replies, and he runs a hand over your head, tidying the hairs still out of place from the, uh, exercise you just shared. "These sheets smelled like you from the other night, and I couldn't help remembering everything we did together. And then I started thinking about other things that we could do together."

A thrill goes through you, settling low in your stomach, so flattered to be desired.

"Do you, uh–" The words get stuck in your throat. You clear it, his expression teasing as he waits, and try again. "Do you want to talk about those ideas?"

He leans in to kiss you, but it's chaste compared to what you've come to expect from him.

"I would love to, baby, but I need a bit of a rest first." He looks disappointed in himself, like his incredible body is letting him down.

"Hey, that's okay." You kiss him gently, enjoying seeing him so soft and sweet. "You've definitely earned it!"

He smiles at you. "I want you to stay, if you want that, too." He's rubbing a hand along your back, like he's trying to settle you to sleep beside him.

"I, uh, may or may not have thrown a couple things into my purse when I was getting ready, just in case you said something like that." You admit cautiously, and your heart nearly bursts when he beams at you.

"Good. I coulda been ready to go again after a quick nap, but I'd much rather get some real sleep and do things right tomorrow." He says, closing his eyes and snuggling up against you.

"You sound like you've got a plan," you tease him.

"Guess you'll just have to stay and find out," he replies. He kisses you quickly again, his eyes still closed but finding your lips easily. You don't even feel embarrassed that you watch him for a few moments, enjoying seeing his handsome face relax into sleep.

You force yourself to get up, go to the bathroom, and brush your teeth. Somehow, you're still wearing your dress and bra, your panties left on the kitchen floor. You're conflicted - you brought a cute pair of sleep shorts and a cami, but the idea of pairing his t-shirt with your lacy panties is also appealing. Last time, you both fell asleep totally naked, wrapped around each other, and that was a fantastic way to wake up.

You feel a little ridiculous, wondering if other girls also stand in the bathroom after amazing sex and debate what to wear (or not wear) to bed. You tell yourself that there isn't actually a wrong choice, after all, we're talking about getting in bed beside a naked Chris fucking Evans.

You decide on his shirt and your panties, remembering how much he liked "unwrapping" you earlier. His shirt, which looks too small for his bulky chest, is still big on you, and actually not that flattering, but it smells like him and there's something so sexy about the intimacy of wearing his clothes, so you leave it on.

You tiptoe around the suite, putting the leftover pizza in the fridge, making sure the door is locked, and turning out lights. It feels shockingly domestic and it warms something in your chest. You've had hookups before, some more embarrassing than others, but you've never come back for seconds. You don't have the perspective to know for sure, but you doubt most second hookups feel this cozy and familiar.

You return to the bedroom, and you stop and stare at the man spread out on the king-size bed in front of you. He's rolled from his side to his stomach, the arm that had been around you now extended as if reaching for you. You lie down on the bed, situating yourself on your side so that you can look at him a moment longer. You slide your hand under his, and his fingers tighten around yours. It's almost definitely just a reflex, but your heart is full when you close your eyes.

_____

You wake up to sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains, and realize almost immediately that you're alone in the enormous bed. The door to the ensuite bathroom is closed and you can hear the faint sound of the sink being used. You close your eyes again, surrounded by bedding that is so soft and smells like Chris. You must doze off again, because the next time you open your eyes, Chris is lying beside you, looking at you.

"Creepy," you tease him with a smile, like you hadn't done the exact same thing last night.

He gives a little shrug, unapologetic and smiles back at you. "Good morning. How'd you sleep? How d'you feel?"

His voice is still sleep-rough and it warms every part of your body. You stretch, legs straightening out, toes pointing, arms extending as much as the bed's headboard allows.

"No complaints," you answer happily.

"Are you hungry?" He asks.

"For what?" You flirt with him.

His eyes crinkle. "For food."

You shake your head against the pillow. "Not yet. My stomach hasn't woken up."

"Are you hungry for anything else?" He flirts back at you, and he moves closer to you now and drapes himself over you. He’s still naked, and entirely unselfconscious about it, like this is just the way his body is meant to be. You don't disagree.

“I think I could be persuaded.” You say as his body cages you in. His arms settle on either side of your head, his knees on either side of your hips.

“Am I supposed to try to convince you now?” He asks, playfully, and – wow, what an idea that is.

“Well, you could tell me more about that plan that you mentioned last night.” You suggest.

“Sure,” he says, moving to kneel beside you, putting a little more space between you. You pout a little, but it does make it easier for you to listen and think with your brain instead of your vagina.

“So I was thinking about you getting yourself off for me,” Chris begins, his eyes dark but still twinkling. “And by the way, I’m pretty sure I said it at the time, but it was so fucking hot getting to watch that.”

You flush, remembering it. You’re honestly a little surprised that you’d been so bold. Fortune sure did favor you, though.

“And I was thinking about you saying that you had to think about me to come, and I realized that didn’t actually mean that the guys you’ve slept with never made you come. So I guess my question is: am I really the first guy to get you off?”

Your flush deepens somehow. You wish there was a way you could move so that you didn’t have to make eye contact.

“Not quite. There was one time – what I said yesterday was true: most of my hookups were a long time ago. But I went home with one guy more recently. He was funny and cute and I wasn’t even that drunk…”

“Okay…” Chris encourages you. He cups your face and you look up at him. He’s nodding, coaxing the story out of you, trying to show you that he’s won't judge you for what happened. But your embarrassment wasn't about the promiscuity.

“His name was Christopher.” You admit, scrunching your face.

“Oooooh!” Chris says, and a big, goofy smile spreads across his face.

“Yeah, yeah. As if your ego needed the boost." You roll your eyes at him, but you're smiling, too.

"Oh, yeah, something is getting a boost alright." Chris teases you. "What happened? I'm guessing he didn't look like me or anything."

"He didn't," you agree, "But I couldn’t see his face during because he -- you know --"

"Was fucking you from behind?" Chris suggests, bluntly.

You scowl at him. "Yes. That. So, it's all going fine. Like, not bad for a hookup but not great or anything. But then I realized that I could think about you and not have to worry about calling the wrong name…"

Chris laughs, delighted. "Oh, Sunshine. That's incredible. You came on some other guy's dick, because you were imagining it was me and calling my name?"

"Yup. There you go." You say, breathing out a sigh. "That's the most embarrassing part of all of this. I came harder than I'd ever come before in my life. He thought it was amazing and wanted to get my number but I couldn’t look him in the eye. I left as fast as I could and never went back to that bar again."

Chris is fucking beaming at you. "That is my favorite thing I've ever heard," He declares. "This is better than any birthday present. Any award. The next time I'm feeling bad about myself, I'm going to remember this and feel ten feet tall."

"Yeah, yeah." You reply, rolling your eyes. "You're God's gift to the world, we know."

"And when was this hookup?" Chris asks.

"About a year ago."

"And since then?"

You sigh. "Just me and my hands."

"And me!" Chris reminds you, brightly, "I was there, even if it was only in your head. Or also on your TV?"

"Nuh-uh. We’re not going there. I’m not going to tell you about that part of my process." You say, firmly. Even if he'd find it hot, you still aren't going to tell him just how many times you’ve seen What’s Your Number . He pouts at you, just a little.

"Fine. But a whole year, sweetheart?" Chris says, coming back to straddle you. Then he's sliding his hands under your shirt - his shirt, actually - and running his fingers up and down your torso. Oh. Right . You'd been in the middle of something. "No one's touched you at all for a year?"

“I mean, it wasn’t exactly a sacrifice then. I hadn’t had many experiences worth missing.” You tell him, arching into his hands. You decide to try biting at one of your fingers, the way he does, and you hope it sounds sexy when you whisper: “Like you’ve said, no one ever really touched me properly before you.”

Chris growls. He pulls off your shirt in a powerful movement that lifts your head and shoulders off the bed. His mouth is on your neck, his hands on your breasts, like he’s trying to make up for all the years of touch you missed out on.

You grab his head, hands in his hair, holding him to you. He moans at your touch.

He sucks a mark onto your collarbone and pulls back to inspect his work. He must be pleased, because he moves to kiss you, his lips rough against yours.

"So I think we've got some catching up to do, huh?" He says, and he cups your face with both hands. "I want to really take my time with you. I want to find every single spot on your body that makes you shiver. I want to explore every inch of you to see what pleasure has been trapped inside you, just waiting for me to let it out."

His eyes are so intense, his words so commanding and his hands so gentle. Everything about him makes you weak. You turn your head and kiss one of his palms, cradling it in one of your own hands.

"So what's stopping you?" You ask him, breathless with want.

The filthy, mischievous smile spreads across his face. "Well, if we're going to do all that, we really ought to eat breakfast first. You're going to need your strength."

You groan, impatient.

"But maybe we can take a few minutes for an appetizer, huh? Something quick?" Chris suggests, sliding a hand down to where you're still covered with delicate lace. "What do you want, Sunshine? My fingers? My mouth?"

You groan again, annoyed at being asked to make a decision. His fingers are teasing under the fabric of your panties to where you're aching for him and the answer comes to you in a rush.

"Your cock. I want you to fuck me."

Chris looks surprised, but only for a moment.

"O-kay," he says, "You don't have to tell me twice."

He leans over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom and deftly rolling it on. Then he pulls off your soaked panties and slowly runs his fingers through your wetness, dipping into you. He rubs deep inside you, his thick fingers touching spots that only increase your need for him.

"Chrissssss," you complain.

"Shhhh, baby," he soothes you, "Just making sure you're ready for my cock. I love how wet you get for me."

He puts his fingers in his mouth and moans, just a little, smiling at you the whole time. "Love tasting you, too." You'd find it sweet if you weren't so fucking desperate to have him in you.

Except then his huge body is moving over you, his gentle but determined hands pushing your legs apart so that he can move in between them, then pinning your hands above your head.

It knocks the breath out of you, feeling the absolute power of his body paired with the certainty that he'll only use it to make your body sing.

He bumps his forehead against yours, checking in. "You tell me if you need anything, okay, Sunshine?"

You nod quickly, gasping out a quiet "yes" and that's all the confirmation he needs. One hand holds your wrists above your head and the other guides his dick inside of you. You don't know how he has the control to move into you so leisurely, and it is impressive, but you don't want that. You don't want slow and controlled.

You bring your knees up around his hips, your feet settling against his ass, and then you drive your feet into him as hard as you can. He's clearly not expecting it, because he crashes into you, his cock sliding home, as deep as it can go. You gasp, not regretting it, but your vagina is aching, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

"What the fuck, Sunshine?" He asks, his eyes wide as he pulls away, luckily not pulling out. He sees the smirk on your face and a shit-eating grin crosses his own. "Oh yeah? Couldn't wait for me, sweetheart? You got a greedy pussy or something?"

You shrug, unashamed. "You were going too slow."

He blows out a breath, like he doesn't know quite what to do with you. He's deep inside you, not pulling out, but not moving, either. You try swirling your hips to get some stimulation but the hand not pinning your wrists presses low on your stomach, just firmly enough that you can't grind against him anymore.

"I think you ought to be a little more grateful." Chris says, and the mischievous smile is back, the indecision gone. "I'm the only guy in the world that can make you come, and you think you can just shove me around?"

"See, I knew your ego -" you start to argue, but then his hands tighten on you and he's leaning in close. A shred of uncertainty twists in your stomach.

"You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to thank me for it." Chris says firmly, but then he whispers, "Tell me 'stop' or 'red' any time if you don't like what I'm doing."

Fuck. Realization slams into you: he's giving you a safe word which means he's about to do something that needs one.

"Green," you gasp, eagerly. He grins, understanding your consent, presses the quickest kiss to your lips, and then leans back again. The grin disappears, his playfulness replaced with purpose as, finally, he starts moving inside you. God, he's huge. You'd mostly relaxed around him while he was immobile, but the slow drag of him has you clenching.

"See, I think you got greedy." Chris says, his voice, his hands, his cock, all of it overpowering you. "You started thinking I was some kind of fucking machine, just for you–"

You open your mouth to argue, a little worried he actually thinks that, but then he winks at you. You take a breath, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he's building up to. His thrusts have sped up a little, and those vibrant spots in your cunt are starting to throb.

"But what you've forgotten is – I'm the one in charge here, baby." His hands, still pinning you against the bed, shift just enough to remind you of his physical control over you, but the motion feels more like a caress than a trap.

"I'm the one with the dick that can split you open. I'm the one that figured out how to lick your perfect pussy. I'm the one that can make you come with just my fingers. I'm the whole reason your body can orgasm at all, and you'd better remember that. Sure, I can make you come, but I can take your orgasms away just as easily."

And then he stops moving in you, only the head of his cock inside you. You whine, trying to move your hips so that you can get more stimulation where you need it. But you can't, because he’s holding you still. Because he's in charge.

"See?" He says, grinning down at you, dark and dirty.

"Chrisssssss," you complain, clenching on the entirely insufficient length inside of you.

"Ask me nicely." He tells you.

"Chris, pleeeeease," you whine. He kisses you, open-mouthed and filthy. Then he whispers against your lips.

"Please what, sweetheart?" He asks, as if he doesn't know.

"Fuck me! Please! Fuck me, Chris!" you yell, too desperate to feel any shame at all.

"That's better," he says, and finally he's moving in you again. You moan, relieved, your cunt grateful for his return. He groans as you tighten around him, pulling him back into you. He doesn't speak for a minute or two, just moving perfectly inside you. The moment you start to really lose yourself to it, he slows down slightly, and speaks.

"So tell me, Sunshine. That time that you screamed my name while getting fucked by another man–" you groan, the embarrassment of the memory somehow making you hotter. "--did one of you rub your little clit, or did you only need his cock to make you come?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see his face when you admit it. "Just his cock."

He growls so you open your eyes so you can see his face. He looks – actually you're not sure. Not quite angry. Jealous, maybe? Ravenous?

"Then that's how you're going to come this time." Chris tells you, and his thrusts speed up again. "You're going to come on my cock, with me fucking you, just like you imagined that time. No touching yourself. No closing your eyes. I want you to look me in the eye when my cock fucks your orgasm out of you."

You nod your head, pleasure and desire rushing through you and making you dizzy.

"Don't move your hands," he commands, and then his hands leave where they were holding you down. He grabs your hips, tilting your pelvis just like he did that first time he fucked you. And again, the movement changes the way he rubs both inside you and against you, and you wail. He smirks.

"Good girl," he croons and, yep, now you're shaking. His hands leave your hips and he crowds you, resting with his weight on his forearms, one on each side of your head. A thumb strokes your hair, and the contrast of domination and gentleness is overwhelming.

"Isn't this better?" He asks you, but you're starting to have trouble processing his words. Your blood is rushing through your body, pounding in your ears and making your swollen clit throb. "Doesn't it feel good to let me take control?"

You nod again, not enough air in your lungs to agree with words. You feel tears forming in your eyes.

"I gotta say, Sunshine, it feels pretty good for me, too." Chris whispers, his lips ghosting along your cheekbone. "Can't tell you how fucking hot it is to know that I'm the only one that can do this to you. Your body is perfect, reacting to me so well. You're so eager for it, for anything I want to do to you. And I bet that people used to call you a prude!"

They have, and it hurts to hear him say it. You know it's so fucking stupid that the word still hurts, when you're literally having earth-shattering, kinky sex, but your scars and shame run deep. The tears, which had been gathering due to the overwhelming pleasure besieging you, fall in earnest now, caused by the humiliation burning in your chest. Chris kisses the tears as they roll towards your hair.

"Awww, baby," Chris says, "Don't you get it? Those people are the biggest morons in the whole world. Because you're not a prude at all. You, Sunshine, are a total fucking slut for me." He pauses, so deep inside you and then times his next thrusts to push into you with each possessive word. "You're mine to play with, mine to tease, mine to make explode with pleasure. It's all for me . And now you're going to come on my cock , looking in my eyes and screaming my name ."

You whimper, because you are close but you're not quite there yet. You shake your head back and forth, tears still falling, because as much as you want it, as much as you want to be good for him, you don't know if you can.

"Shhh, baby, it's okay." Chris whispers, "Whatever you're thinking about, whatever you're worrying about, just let it go. Don't think, just feel. Take a big breath for me."

It takes you a second but you manage, inhaling and exhaling a noisy, shaky breath.

"Good girl," Chris murmurs, giving you a gentle kiss as a reward. "See? You can do this. Keep breathing like that for me. Feel the air moving through you. Get out of your head and into your body."

The hand playing with your hair starts to trail down your neck, your shoulder, your breasts.

"Focus on me, babe. My hand on your tit, my lips breathing on yours, my dick stretching you open, pushing into the most secret parts of you. Feel everywhere I'm touching you, everywhere your body is rushing to meet mine. Feels good, right?"

You whine, because of course it does, it feels so fucking good. You're so close and your clit is throbbing. Your nipple is being pinched just hard enough to make you gasp. Your skin is tingling. Your toes are curling.

"Okay. You know the way you clench when you come for me? The way you squeeze me so tight, pulling me deeper into you? Do that for me now."

You do. You'd do anything, anything to come.

"Fuck, sweetheart. That's perfect. Do it again. And again. And again. Keep doing that for me. Good girl, you're being so good for me."

And later, you won't be sure what did it: the intentional muscle contractions, the praise, or the way Chris is looking at you like he could never get enough of you, but you’re breathing harder, and your legs are starting to shake. You can hear a noise, a whining groan, but Chris is talking to you so it can’t be him making it.

“Come on, Sweetheart, that’s it. You’re right there; right there, just for me. Feels so fucking good to have you squeezing my cock.” His thrusts are so powerful that he’s pushed the both of you up the bed. Your hands are still exactly where he put them, and they’re stopping your head from knocking against the headboard. He must notice this, moving his forearm so that he can put a hand between yours and the headboard, cupping your head.

“We’re going to come now, together. Can you do that for me? I’m ready for it, ready to push my come into you. D’you want it? Wanna come with me, baby?”

“Chris!” You cry, desperate for it, shaking apart in his arms, pleasure radiating in waves from where he’s pounding into you. You’re squirming, flailing underneath him. Gasping, yelling, moaning.

“Come for me, Sunshine!” He commands you, and you obey. You see his eyes widen as your orgasm overtakes you, feel the way he moves impossibly faster into you.

“FUCK!” He yells, and for the first time, his unrelenting thrusts lose their rhythm. His hips move erratically as he presses into you in all the right places to make you scream. He’s groaning and you – yeah, you’re still screaming. He stops thrusting, his hip bones digging into your ass as he grinds against you. Your muscles are tired, so tired, but still tightening around him in time with the throbbing of your clit.

Your hands fly up from where they’d been resting, as if an invisible chain holding them down broke, and you grab at his shoulders, pulling him to you. He responds in kind, sliding his arms under your back to pull you to him until your chests are flush. You hold each other and moan and shake and stare and breathe until you both sag down onto the bed.

He kisses you, clumsy and sweet, and rolls you so that you’re side-by-side. Your head is empty – nothing left in it whatsoever. You just look at him, rubbing your fingers over his face like you need proof that he’s real. He smiles at you and the warmth of it spreads through your still-trembling body.

“Wow,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “That was–” and you’re curious to hear how he’ll describe it, because God knows, you don’t have any words. But he doesn’t finish the sentence, shaking his head, the words escaping him, too.

"Uh-huh," you agree, nodding a little. "Sure was."

He chuckles, and the vibrations rumble through your chest. He kisses you, and you kiss back, but your body is too relaxed to do anything more than press your lazy mouth against his. He's not much better, and you love it. Your brain is starting to work again, and you remember something.

"You lied to me." You tell Chris. He flinches, jaw dropping, instantly worried and confused. "You said you were going to be quick. You told me we were going to have an appetizer, but that was a whole fucking meal!"

He laughs, his relief palpable, and pulls you close to him once more.

Tag list: @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

#a whole new world ce fic #chris evans rpf #chris evans fic #brooklynbear32 #chris evans x reader #chris evans/reader

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mxssingmemories · 2 years ago

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A Fresh Start

Summary: Y/N is finally moving out of her childhood home. It's a big decision, but she knows she's got Chris and Sebastian in her corner.\

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x teen!reader, Chris Evans x teen!reader

Warnings: None, really. Moving out of a parent's house? Pretty much just pure fluff.

Word Count: 600ish

A/N:I'm thinking of making a masterlist, what do y'all think? Hope you guys like this one <3

"Are you sure about this?" Chris asked, his voice quiet and uncertain. Nodding your head, you smiled. You were content with your decision. Moving out of your childhood home after ten years was a big decision, and you knew that. You just couldn't be in the house any longer-it was time to move on. You just got a role in your third Marvel movie, and you were growing up. In your eyes, this was the biggest step you had to take. It was time to get it out of the way.

Sebastian and Chris watched you pack your bags, helping when you asked. They knew better than to get in your way after the "Cake Incident." It was a bittersweet moment for everyone in the house. For the boys, it meant they finally were able to be close to you, but at the cost of leaving your childhood behind. For you, the worst part about this was leaving your parents.

The whole day, almost all you heard were reassurances that everything was fine, and it was starting to get on your last nerve. Not that you didn't appreciate it-of course you did- but they said it so much it became less true in your eyes. You had faith, though. After all, you were confident the boys would take care of you-no matter what.

After the final goodbyes with your parents were said, and the last box was packed into the van, you hopped in the back seat with Sebastian. When tears started to form in your eyes, he pulled you into his shoulder. You let your tears fall, comforted by Seb's warm embrace and the gentle rocking of the car. Eventually, your body stopped shaking, and you relaxed. You allowed yourself to be lulled to sleep, anxiously awaiting the arrival to Chris' house.

"Hey, kiddo, we're here." Sebastian murmured softly, shaking you. Groggily, you opened your eyes, widening them as you saw the size of the house. Choosing not to focus on that, you followed Chris into the bedroom he set up for you tiredly. Setting your overnight bag down, you followed the boys into the living room where they'd already cued up Iron Man 3. It was well-known in the cast that that's your favorite movie-you absolutely adored Robert. A content smile made its way across your face. They'd set up a nest of sorts, all kinds of pillows and blankets on the sofa. Dodger was nestled right in the middle of it, and the three of you hopped in your designated spots as the movie began to play.

That moment was exactly when you realized this was the right choice. You knew your boys would keep you safe and be there for you, and being a teenager in the acting world, you couldn't be more thankful.

As the movie played, Chris and Sebastian occasionally glanced over at you. They all had slightly worried looks on their faces, knowing the reality of the transition hadn't hit you yet. They were fully prepared to handle it when it did, though-they loved you too much to not be there for you.

When the credits finally rolled, Chris and Sebastian noticed you were asleep. With a soft smile on his face, Seb picked you up princess style and carried you up the stairs. Your eyes opened a little bit, and closed again when you realized you were safe in Sebastian's arms. He kicked the door open with his foot, pulling the covers back before laying you gently in the bed.

"Sleep well, Y/N," he whispered softly, kissing your forehead as he walked out. Shutting your door, a goofy grin made its way onto his face. He was so proud of you for making this decision, and he knew you were in good hands.

#my writing #chris evans x teen!reader #sebastian stan x teen!reader #fluff #chris evans fluff #sebastian stan fluff #marvel rpf #mcu cast

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buckyownsmylife · 2 years ago

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about a girl - chris evans angst

The one where Chris breaks your heart

Warnings: angst

A/N: yes, I did finally write an angsty piece. No, this was not provoked by whatever rumors have been circling around this man's life, as it has been written since last year or something of the sorts. Just enjoy it and don't forget to let me know if you liked it by reblogging it!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Everything was going well until it all went to shit. That’s the way my life seems to go.

The evening started like it always does: I walked into the party and Chris was already there, chatting up another girl who I had never seen before.

I didn’t feel attacked or intimidated. We’d danced this way before - countless times, in fact. It’d become some sort of routine now. The one who got there first would find some unsuspecting victim to chat up while we waited for the other to arrive.

I’d seen that movie a hundred times before. He never pounced, only played with the food until it got tired and old. That’s when he’d turn around and find me, and together we’d escape to a room or a bathroom - whatever was nearest.

Anywhere felt fine when I had his dick inside of me.

I’d been looking forward to this night for ages. Even primped myself for it. I was wearing my skimpiest dress, and nothing but a thong for Chris to undress tonight. So I didn’t even mind when he didn’t connect his eyes with mine once I walked through the door.

It was all a part of the game, I told myself. He liked the chase, and so did I.

“Why are you looking so gloom?” Brie scared me with the question. I had been staring at my beer for the last twenty minutes, waiting for Chris to make his move. I didn’t question it - he might have gotten lost in conversation. It happened quite often, depending on how much liquor was in his veins by the time I arrived. So I wasn’t even anxious, just a bit antsy. The underwear was riding up my butt and I just wanted to be without it.

I kept playing with the idea of interrupting their conversation to slip my panties into his pocket, but I decided against it. I wasn’t that adventurous. All of my energy in these gatherings was channeled into wild sex in “exotic” places. There wasn’t much of it left by now, as unfortunate as it was.

“I just…” I didn’t even know what to tell Brie. “I don’t know. Might be having a night off, that’s all.” She shouldn’t be worrying about me when the real reason why I was looking so out-of-place still hadn’t even glanced my way.

Another quick look and what I saw had my heart falling down to my stomach. Chris and the girl were full-on making out. He had her against the wall, one hand on her ass and the other buried in her hair, and I didn’t know what to say when my friend followed my line of sight and noticed what had gotten me so sad.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I didn’t need her words of compassion. It only had the mortification from this entire ordeal setting even heavier on my chest.

I knew Chris didn’t owe me anything; we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, we weren’t together together. But every one of our friends knew about our customary hook ups. They were used to looking for us and finding us together, sometimes in compromising positions, so for him to just kiss someone else like it was no big deal felt beyond humiliating to me.

I wanted to go home, then and there. But I also didn’t want my friends to realize how hurt I was about it, so I knew I’d have to stay. I’d stay there and endure the humiliation, even when - through giggles and groans - the two of them found their way into a bedroom together, while I was left alone in the corner of a party I only went to in the hopes of spending time with Christopher.

It was hours before I saw him again, and even then, he didn’t see me - too focused on the conversation he was having with a common friend. I tried to be quiet as I approached them, I actually only wanted to grab myself another beer and they were the ones standing in the kitchen, but since he had his back to me, he didn’t notice my arrival.

I, however, couldn’t not overhear his words.

“So what? We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend anyway. Believe me, I would never date Y/N…” And that’s when he noticed me, standing there with a frown on my face.

I didn’t know how to react. I wasn’t going to lash out. I knew I wasn’t his girlfriend, but to be considered someone who could never earn the title hurt more than I cared to admit.

I didn’t know what to do. So I just left.

“Y/N…” He ran after me, for what reason I couldn’t understand. It’s not like he cared about me, not after what he did tonight.

“No, go away!” I yelled, my voice betraying just how hurt I was by his behavior. I hated it, hated that I couldn’t hide my feelings from the person who was the cause of them.

“Go and jerk off or something. Or find someone else who will fall to her knees and suck you whenever you want it. It obviously won’t be too hard.”

“You won’t at least hear me out?” That had me stopping in my tracks, ire making my heart beat so loud I could hear it ringing in my ears.

“Are you dumb?” I had to ask. “What could you possibly say to justify what happened in there?” That caught him by surprise. He fidgeted in his spot but didn’t open his mouth to say anything, and so I figured we were done for the night.

But just as I was about to leave… “We never talked about anything serious!” As if that was my problem with what had happened in there.

“And believe me, that’s on me.” I shook my head vehemently, crossing my arms in front of my body to show him that I meant business. “But it ends here and now. I can’t keep feeling this way every time we’re in a party together.”

Chris looked like he was struggling with something, but I wasn’t interested in letting him work through it at that time. “I know you could never love me.” Well, I knew that, now. “Not if you behave like that. Not if your only goal in life is to get more women into bed with you.”

He didn’t say anything and that’s when I decided it was time for me to leave. But I probably shouldn’t have mistaken his silence as a sign of his peace of mind, because the second that I turned my back to him, I heard his voice - barely over a whisper: “Maybe I just don’t know how to express my feelings.”

#my fics #chris evans angst #chris evans #angst #rpf #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader

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k-evans-reads · 5 months ago

Text

The Spare

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Summary: When Princess Rosie unexpectedly is thrust into a political tour of the country, a working-class Air Force Captain is assigned to be her pilot. Although the princess is unhappy about the decision, she realizes she’s stepping into unknown territory when the unexpected happens

Chapter 1 l Main Masterlist | The Spare Masterlist

By @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

Word Count: 7,725

Chapter 2

Four Years Earlier

The sound of loud voices booming and laughter still followed Chris as he shook his head to himself, rolling his eyes as he walked further into the hangar, headed toward his fighter jet. He didn’t understand how one visit from a member of the royal family could cause such an uproar on the air force base, especially when the crowned prince was in their unit and most had gone through university with James as well. Sure he had seen the way other people treated James, knowing that one day he would be their king, but the further they had gotten knit together as a unit, the less it had mattered to all the guys. Chris figured because of that it wouldn’t be as shocking when another member of the royal family made an appearance on base, but the chaos that seemed to ensue the minute the princess had stepped out of the shiny black car was something that Chris just couldn’t seem to understand.

Well… that wasn’t completely true.

Having been born and raised in Ellington, Chris had been well aware of the royal family. He was constantly reading, hearing and seeing so much about them, although he had been too busy as a teenager working to help support himself and his mother to pay much attention. It wasn’t until he received a scholarship for university that he had met James, the future king of Ellington. He saw the way everyone treated him, varying between fawning over his every moment to completely avoiding him so they didn’t run the risk of saying or doing the wrong thing.

Maybe it was because of their first meeting when he laughed at James for missing the easiest layup on the basketball court, but from the moment Chris met him, the two had just connected. To Chris, he was just James, one of his best friends. And to James, Chris was what felt like his first real friend. The only guy who didn’t care who he was or what his position was but was simply just his friend.

They were constantly together throughout university and somehow ended up in the same unit once joining the royal Air Force afterward, something Chris knew was probably some special strings that were pulled but he didn’t care. He had come to see over the years that even though being a royal might have seemed glamorous, he’d seen the reality of how isolating and burdensome it was, and if he could be there for James, he was happy to be that.

With Chris being virtually the only person that James trusted implicitly, he heard a much more honest and unguarded version of James’ life as opposed to the highlight reel that was on the cover of newspapers. He knew of all the hard things like the strained relationship James had with his father, the virtually non-existent one he had with his mother, how insane his boarding school experience and schooling was, the immense pressure he had growing up, how he felt disconnected from his youngest sister Annie with her being so much younger and him already gone away to school. But he also knew that the saving grace of his growing up years and even now, was his sister Rosie.

By this point Chris had reached his cubby in the base, taking his time as he changed into his olive green flight suit and boots, preparing to go on a test flight but found himself smiling as he thought about the way James had talked about Rosie over the years. Chris couldn’t even count the amount of times their classmates or now even guys in their unit made comments to James about getting them an introduction to Princess Rosalie. She was arguably the most popular person in the country amongst most people, bringing a relatability and normalcy to the royal family who often felt out of touch with most of reality.

It was fairly often that one of her comical faces revealing everything she was thinking was photographed and put on the front page of the paper, or reports of her sparkling personality was talked about in contrast to the stoic and demure ways of most nobility. She felt more attainable, more in-touch with what was going on in the country and that made everyone look forward to seeing her more in the press in the coming years now that James would be serving in the Air Force.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed to Chris that James had always clammed up anytime someone mentioned his sister and that it was a long time before he even talked to Chris about her. James was fiercely protective of his sister and loved her so deeply. They were each other’s person, the only ones they could really trust and rely on, but once James started telling Chris more about her, he understood why. He had never even met her and Chris could feel a softness in his heart toward her just from hearing about her for so many years now. It was no wonder to him why James loved her so much, but when he saw her for the first time in person today, stepping out of that car, it also was no wonder to him why she caused such an uproar amongst the Air Force unit because as beautiful as those pictures of her were on the newspaper, they didn’t hold a candle to her in person.

As much as he would have liked to meet the girl he’d been hearing about for years, his dedication to his duty and annoyance at the way his unit turned into a bunch of ogling school boys at the sight of the princess made him need to get away. Chris had worked his ass off to get through university on his scholarship and was committed in every sense of the word to the Air Force, wanting to serve his country well and he wasn’t going to let himself be distracted by the loud chaos that was ensuing outside the hangar, instead focusing on making his way over to his jet to prep for his test run.

He hadn’t quite made it when the sound of a door opening echoed in the virtually empty hangar and a voice he’d only heard in a more restrained and proper tone on the television before echoed as she laughed, “It looks like coming to visit you is more dangerous than I thought.”

“I think you’re right, that was fuckin’ insane out there,” James laughed back, and Chris could practically see the look on James’s face from behind, the crinkle of his eyes, the smirk on his lips. “I don’t know that i’ve seen those guys go that ape over a girl before.”

The footsteps stopped just on the opposite side of the plane, blocking Chris from their view as the laughs continued to echo. “No I was more meaning the fact that your commander stands way too close to me and spits while he’s talking,” the princess snickered.

With a quick wipe of his hands on a rag, Chris poked his head out from behind the plane. He shot a kind smile to the princess before his eyes returned to James.“Try sitting in the front row at his briefings,” he chuckled, a smirk growing across his lips.

“Hey! I was wondering where the hell you went!” James greeted Chris, shaking off the hand Chris offered to him. “Chris, I want you to meet my sister, Rosie.”

Chris saw the way that Rosie visibly shifted, her posture tightening and her undoubtedly years of training kicking in as she put a beautiful but seemingly surface-level smile on her face as she put her hand out to greet him. Chris bowed to her but before he could take her hand, he saw James nudge her side, making her stumble slightly in her precarious heels as James told her, “Rosie, this is Chris, my best friend who I told you about. You don’t have to be formal with him.”

It was as if all those years - undoubtedly - media and publicity training slipped and it seemed as though the real Princess Rosie came out. A familiar look crossed her face, one that mimicked James’, as she mischievously arched a single brow and told him, “Oh yeah, I’ve heard about you…”

A strange feeling settled in Chris at those words, but he let the humor lead as he shook his head, admitting, “That could be dangerous.”

But his worries melted away at a simple shrug of Rosie’s shoulder as she conceded with a playful smile, “Maybe.”

Now, even all these years later, Chris could still vividly remember that smile. Sure he’d seen hundreds of photos of Rosie smiling in the papers but that smile he saw that day was different. It was one he still couldn’t forget even now as he walked up the steps to the grandiose palace, two immaculate guards opening the doors for him as he walked inside.

It felt weird to him to be entering in the place he’d seen in his history books in school on just a normal Monday. Although he’d been so close to James for years now, he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around that his best friend would one day be his King. The Air Force had been a level playing field for them all, but stepping in the palace just to meet his friend was the most surreal feeling he’d ever experienced.

Before he had a chance to dwell on it too much, he felt a hand clap on his back as James appeared next to him, smiling wide as he greeted him, “I’m glad you could come today.”

Chris suppressed an eye roll at those words, knowing there was no choice on his end - or anyone's end, really - once the royal family got involved in affairs. “Don’t even act like you didn’t pull rank and get me out of a briefing I was supposed to be in,” he muttered, only half serious. “I knew the second that they told me I suddenly wasn’t needed in it, I knew something was up.”

Chris’ words didn’t seem to affect the charming royal much. “Hey, being the prince does have its perks every now and then,” James admitted teasingly, before he turned serious. “Did you have a good time at the ceremony last night?”

He huffed out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a wry smirk. “You know I hate that shit,” he reminded James. The odd…. Well, he didn’t know whether it was a blessing or a curse, the extended invitations and offers of accompanying James to events, whether to charity visits that always warmed his heart within seconds, taking in the countless sporting events from the royal Box with beers in hand and the sun on their skin, or sitting through an admittedly painful dinner of tucked elbows, stick-straight posture, the pricks and pinches of safety pins on his hastily-altered suits. It was all just a bit much at times.

The gravel crunched under their feet as they rounded a bend in the path, following the carefully and overly lush landscaping through the gardens as a few members of the security team lingered about. Their presence was not lost on Chris as he felt their eyes on the pair every so often, keeping a respectable distance from them. James’ sarcastic laugh seemed appropriate as he pointed out, “Try being royal, it’s shit like that every day of the week.”

Chris raised a brow, his lips curling again, this time in genuine amusement. He’d always felt for James, knowing how desperately his friend wished to disappear in a way Chris and their peers always could. “If you’re trying to make me envy you, it’s not working,” he teased him playfully, keeping the tone light as birds chirped, flying above them.

“I am wondering though if now I have to only refer to you as Captain?” James asked, his shoulder bumping into Chris’ as he shoved his hands into his pockets, a playful twinkle in his eyes at his friend’s suddenly unamused expression.

“Only if I have to refer to you as prince now,” he retorted dryly.

His friend’s jaw dropped nearly instantly, causing a smile to grow on Chris’ face. James moved a hand, shoving a laughing Chris. “That’s a low blow.”

He shrugged, turning his head over his shoulder momentarily to catch a peek at the lake behind them before they turned to head back inside the large, ornate doors. “Well, ask a stupid question,” he answered, quickly thanking the guard as the doors were pulled open and they stepped back inside.

The doors closing echoed momentarily until the only sound was their soft footsteps on the pristine floors, reverberating off the walls of the estate.

James turned serious and his hand reached out, resting on Chris’ shoulder, making them come to a stop in the middle of the entrance hall. “Seriously Chris, I’m proud of you. Nobody is going to make a better captain than you,” he congratulated.

Chris gave a soft smile, nearly uncomfortable with the honest praise. “Let’s hope so,” he sheepishly answered, grateful for the trust James placed in him. “I still haven’t gotten my first posting yet so we’ll see where things go after this. I know there were some things on hold until this ceremony happened.”

There was a look on James’ face that Chris couldn’t quite read, but he figured out why when James began, “Funny you mention that because that’s part of the reason I asked you to come today. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about…”

“I don’t know that I like the sound of that,” was Chris’ admission with a raised eyebrow, looking quizzically at his best friend who had become more like a brother to him over the past years.

“You probably won’t,” he saw James’ eyes crinkle up as he loudly laughed, Chris joining in with a chuckle of his own before his pace slowed as they ventured down the lengthy hallway Chris swore was longer than most of the Air Force hangars he’d been in. He shoved his hands in his pockets while turning to glance at James, his face more stoic as he started, “I know that you know about a little bit of what’s happened with my father.”

He just nodded before James motioned toward an open room, directing him to go in which Chris did, admitting on his way by, “Well, I’d still have you in my unit if it weren’t for that.”

There was a silence that hung in the air as James closed the door behind them, the sound echoing in the ornate room. Chris awkwardly stood, his hands fidgeting in his pockets with discomfort. He’d been with James nearly every day for years on end now, knowing him so well, better than just about anybody, but somehow this just felt different. He was standing here in the fucking royal palace and his best friend was the heir to the throne of the entire country. Here he wasn’t just his best friend James. Here he was the crowned prince.

Chris waited until James sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs, seeing him motion to the empty one before he sat himself, listening while James started explaining, “Things are actually a little worse than we thought. He needs a few months to recover which means I’m going to be here taking over for him more to give him space to rest and I’m sure you’ve seen in the papers that now Rosie is going to be taking my place on the tour.”

Over their years of friendship, he’d heard his fair share about James’ beloved sister and that coupled with what he’d read in the papers it wasn’t hard for him to imagine her reaction and couldn’t help but chuckle sarcastically, “I’m sure she’s thrilled about that.”

“You can imagine,” James just shot him a look through his own laugh, knowing just how accurate his satirical comment was. He ran a hand through his perfectly swooped over hair, his gaze falling to the carpet before admitting, “Honestly, I think Rosie has been struggling these past few years while I’ve been gone more than I realized. I stayed in the Air Force longer because I loved it and it’s what I wanted to do and honestly, I don’t think I really looked at how much it put on her.”

Not quite following him, Chris’ brows furrowed as he asked, “So are you trying to get her out of doing the tour?”

“No, I can’t really do that. I need her to do the tour because we just don’t really have a choice but the reality is that there’s a lot of pressure being put on Rosie in some different ways.” He vaguely motioned with his hand.

Chris knew there was a lot about royal life he didn’t understand and never would. Growing up with a single mother and an after school job to help buy groceries felt like night and day to how James no doubt grew up. With just a glance around the huge room with oil paintings on the wall, ornate furniture, and guards stationed right outside it was obvious how different their lives had been. But Chris had come to see just how burdensome James’ life was in a way he couldn’t imagine and couldn’t seem to understand what he alluded to with Rosie and point blank asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“There’s just a lot riding on this tour. There’s a lot of pressure on her for being a little more stable, being viewed differently, and it’s no secret about all the unrest there is along the coast which brings a pretty real level of a security threat that kind of scares me,” James admitted honestly to the person he knew he could trust more than anything. “It would make me feel a lot better if I knew there was someone there looking out for Rosie and making sure she’s alright and so I’m wondering if you’d be willing to be her pilot and on the security team for her during this tour.”

Hearing this struck a pang of fear in him, feeling like every bit of this was out of place for him. He was an Air Force captain, not someone who was prepared to do any of this. He rubbed a hand along his short beard, muttering, “Shit, I don’t know about this. I’m not trained for that and I’m not sure I’m the most qualified to be doing that for the Princess of Ellington.”

“It’s not like you’d be alone, there’s going to be the most highly trained people in the country and you’d go through a training before the tour. Also, because of what you’d be doing, it’d be double the salary you’re making now," he tried to convince him but with just the mention of a pay bump, Chris instantly felt more intrigued. For years he’d been sending most of his paychecks to his mother to help take care of her and lift some weight off her shoulders, but he knew a bump in pay would not only help him get ahead on some things of his own but fix up some of the things his mother’s home had been needing. Chris was busy making a mental list of all he could do with that when James added, “This isn’t something you have to say yes to, it’s not an order from the prince, it’s just a favor for a friend.”

With a laugh and a wave of his hand, Chris rolled his eyes playfully, “You had to fucking go there, pulling the friend card!”

“Well I know the prince asking you to do it wouldn’t be enough to pull you away from active duty,” James said through a laugh, knowing it was completely true but also that Chris was just about as loyal as they came and that he could rely on him for just about anything.

“I am going to be a little pissed at you for that," he emphasized playfully with a point of his finger.

A smirk gave away James’ feelings before he asked, “Does that mean you’re going to say yes?”

“Only because it’ll keep me busy enough that I won’t have to watch my best friend turning into a spoiled ass now that’s back to being a prince,” Chris snorted.

That response got a good laugh out of his best friend before a genuine smile crossed his lips and he admitted, “Seriously, thank you Chris. This means a lot to me.”

Unable to keep the teasing smile from his lips, he joked with a nudge to James’ knee, “Remember that when you sign my check.”

And with just that one conversation, Chris got swept into a whirlwind he wasn’t quite prepared for over the course of the next month. Being pulled from the Air Force had been tough enough, but having to sit through meeting after meeting about all of his responsibilities, safety protocols, and royal decorum and he felt like he couldn’t quite keep his head straight. There was no part of him that wanted to be doing this. Everything in him yearned for his unit and to be up in his fighter jet, following the duty for his country, but he knew that this duty was just as important.

Thinking back to when they’d first met, Chris wished he could tell his younger, scared, and intimidated self just how much James would quickly become like a brother more than anything to him over the years. Sure, he had been there for James, and he’d helped give James a sense of normalcy amongst prying eyes and intense attention, but the prince had been there for him just as much. Growing up with a single mother and tight finances had been difficult and without anyone else to rely on, Chris had felt the full weight of that. He had grown up well before his time, having to worry and bear the responsibility of more than his age normally would demand, and a way he knew James struggled to fully understand. Because of this, he knew there was a bit of an emotional wall that he’d put up, trying to always push away his vulnerable emotions to do what needed to be done, but James had been the first friend he could really be open with.

His best friend had proved to be such a loyal friend through and through, always being there to support him and able to pull out his real feelings in a way Chris didn’t even completely understand. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for James, and if it meant doing this, he decided he’d be able to handle it for a couple months. With his days being so packed full and being hours away from where he grew up, he hadn’t been able to see his mother for weeks but with only a few days before he set off on the tour, he carved out a time to drive toward the familiar terrain.

Chris recognized the sound of the rhythmic bumping of the car tires over the many potholes on the street as he slowed down to park in front of the old building. He climbed out and locked the car before starting to walk toward the building but seemed to linger on the sidewalk for a moment, his blue eyes just taking in the sight in front of him.

He knew the house he had grown up in wasn’t much to look at, sandwiched in the cramped neighborhood and right on the street. He knew how many times he had fixed the leaking faucet, had to install new windows a couple winters ago when the frames had rotted on the old ones, and how you could feel the vibrations of the cars driving by when you laid in bed. The house wasn’t pretty. Or new. Or spacious. But this house would always hold a special place in his heart thanks to the woman that lived inside.

Growing up with a single mother hadn’t always been the easiest life, remembering the many times as a teenager he’d close that black iron gate behind him late at night after working a job after school to help buy them groceries or make rent. He certainly had never gone without food or a roof over his head but things weren’t easy for them and he had seen just how tirelessly his loving mother worked to make sure he was taken care of. He remembered her saving up to buy a sewing machine, making it easier for her to be able to make their own clothes and fix any holes or tears that happened to existing ones, allowing them to get every bit of use out of everything they had. She was often up late clipping coupons or baking pies to sell to help bring in some extra money, all while still giving Chris all the love and nurturing in the world.

Chris leaned against that gate, just gazing at the house and remembering when he had gotten a scholarship to university and that deep drive and determination he had to make sure not one bit of it was wasted. That grit proved to be useful when his mother started developing some sharp pain in her back and knees, preventing her from keeping up the grueling work she had been doing and Chris stepped in to take care of her, sending most of his check from the Royal Air Force home to care for her, only keeping enough for himself to rent a tiny apartment and whatever else he needed for basic necessities.

There hadn’t been one moment of hesitation for him, wanting to do anything he could for the woman he loved more than anything and could still to this day put him in his place in the way only she could. She had always been there cheering him on, encouraging him, and loving him wholeheartedly with that same smile she had on her face now as she opened the teal door.

Her silvery gray hair was falling around her kind face, that sweet smile on her lips as she held her arms open, “Well don’t just stand there looking at the dead landscaping, come over and give me a hug!”

“Hey Ma," he smiled, walking over to wrap his arms around her short frame, feeling warm from the inside out as he genuinely said, “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s always a good day when I get to see you," she said with a hand rubbing his back before ushering him into the warm house, motioning around the kitchen as she started looking through cabinets, “What can I get you, honey? Coffee? Some cake?”

Chris was watching her through an inquisitive eye, seeing something she hadn’t admitted and spoke up, “Ma, you need to sit down. I can see you’re still favoring that knee.” She turned around, tucking her gray hair behind her ear before averting his gaze as she turned her back to dish him up a piece of what she knew to be his favorite cake as he questioned, “I thought you said it was getting better?”

“It is, just slowly," she shrugged, pouring him a glass of milk and without even looking up, shot back at him,“Don’t give me that look, Christopher.”

But Chris just laughed from where he sat at the worn wooden table and tossed his hands in the air, “I will if you keep refusing to take care of yourself!”

Margaret put down the piece of cake that he knew she made just for him, down on the table before patting his shoulder as she sat down in her own chair, “You just worry about me too much.”

“I’m afraid of what other shit you’re going to be feeding me while I’m away on this tour. Before I know it I’m probably going to find out you’re out dancing every night while I’m away,” he teased her easily before taking a bite of the cake he loved so much.

“Don’t you worry about me, I’ll keep on resting my knee like the doctor said,” she waved him off, being just as stubborn as he knew he could be before changing the subject, “Are you officially done with all your training for the tour?”

A deep sigh escaped Chris as he leaned back in the creaky chair. “Yeah I finished yesterday, although I don’t feel like it’s enough,” he admitted, his voice sounding befuddled even to himself. His hand twitched on the worn table, well-loved with everything from rings from glasses to paint from his youth and a frown on Chris’ face as his eyes bore into streaks of red paint. “I mean, I’m not the head of security, I’m mostly just the princess’ pilot and then will be the one escorting her to events but she’ll have a whole security team.”

But Margaret’s eyes never left her son’s face, her brow raising sharply. Her voice, however, was kind and curious as always as she mused, “That seems unusual that the pilot would be doing that.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I think it is, but I think it’s more James wanting someone he trusts with his sister,” he agreed, then added, “He made it sound like she’s maybe having a hard time with all of this so I think it’s maybe his way of making it easier or something like that. It’s obviously not really my first choice but I’ll do anything for James.”

“And I know he appreciates it,” she agreed honestly, and the twinkle in her eyes made Chris think about the many times Chris had caught rides from James and his security back home from university. He remembered the way the sleek cars would draw curious eyes on the streets, but no one ever spared a second glance when they saw Prince James dart out of the car to always give Margaret a hug before heading off to the palace.

“He probably just wants to earn points with you for getting me off of active duty,” Chris chuckled with a smirk.

“James already knows he’s my adopted son, he doesn’t have to earn any more points,” Margaret told him amusedly before she sat up a bit in her chair, her face twitching momentarily as her knee shifted below the table. “Although I do like him getting you off of active duty. You know how much I hate that.”

Chris' lips twitched, curling into an instinctive smile as her overprotectiveness shone through. He knew she struggled with his choice to enlist after university - being the only family the other had, the only one that looked out for the other - but it’d always made sense for him. It was a safe career path, one that provided a lot of opportunity to see places he’d otherwise never get to see, one that was all but guaranteed to keep him and also pay for the remainder of the university tuition fees that his scholarships didn’t cover. And James being there too? He couldn’t say that wasn’t a factor, getting to spend a few more years with his brother at his side before he inevitably became King, but it helped.

However, he knew his Ma disagreed, fretting about everything from his safety abroad to on the very planes that the royal family even approved of for their heir. But those fears were admittedly easy to shake off as his heads hit the clouds, leaving his worries behind back in his bedroom by the phone each day after he hung up his calls with her. “Well I don’t know that being on the security team for the princess of the country is a whole lot safer,” he pointed out quietly.

But Margaret simply chose to ignore the issue, something they’d both grown to do, instead asking, “Have you met Princess Rosalie yet? Is she just as beautiful in person as she is in the papers?”

He couldn’t help the loud laugh that burst out of him at those words, taken aback. “Ma!” He admonished, but he couldn’t stop the laughter that continued to echo throughout the tiny room.

“I’m just asking,” she shrugged, her eyes twinkling as she listened to him.

He shook his head, eyes dropping back down to the splattered paint on the table. His hand moved and he began scratching it lightly with his nail, despite knowing it was no use. At this point, it’d been on the table for at least twenty-five years, it wasn’t going anywhere unless the table did as well. “Well I only met her like four years ago for a few minutes. Later this afternoon I’m going back to the palace to see James and he said he wanted to introduce me to Rosie.”

But the look in Margaret’s eyes became a mix of surprise, amusement, and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on at his admission, and he found himself looking away from her gaze as she asked, “Oh so you haven’t even really met her and it’s already Rosie now?”

“I’m starting to think it’s a good thing I’m leaving for two months if you’re going to be stirring up trouble like that,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he gave up on removing the paint.

Margaret grew quiet for a few moments, eyes shining as she watched her only son. Chris' heart panged at the way she quickly moved her hand to disguise the few tears that escaped her eyes. “I’m so happy for you but I sure am going to miss you,” she told him, her voice soft and quiet. “I just love you so much.”

A soft sigh escaped Chris’ lips as he thought about the reality of the situation and vulnerably admitted, “I know, I love you too Ma and I’m going to miss you. This isn’t even really what I want to be doing but it’s a favor for James and I’m going to be making double my salary so that’s hard to say no to.”

“Well it’ll only be a couple months and then you can go back to the Air Force," she nodded, trying to brighten his spirits as well as reminding herself of when she’d see him next.

A genuine smile crossed his lips as he told her, “I’m already looking forward to that.”

Rosie stared at the books in front of her for several long moments before she reached both hands out, quickly pulling a few off the overstuffed and well-used bookshelf. Despite the longing desire to do nothing but sit in the plush armchair next to the grand bay window, Rosie begrudgingly and precariously packed the books in the bag sitting on her bed. She missed the short knock and creak of the door opening and closing in her haste to pack, knowing how much preparation there was still to do over the next several hours. Final fittings, final itinerary plans, and final interviews with a few Ellington-based outlets for pre-planned articles to come out throughout tour, showing “the strength and resilience of the royal family, even in the trying times they were in” she thought, reminding herself of the Communications Secretary, Edward Henry’s, words.

Her eyes nearly rolled out of her head at that memory when a soft “Ahem,” broke her train of thought, making her jump slightly as she turned to find her mother standing by the door to her bedroom. After a quick, routine curtsy to the Queen, her mother made her way to the sun-drenched arm chair, sitting perfectly on the overstuffed, well-loved chair, facing Rosie with an arched brow.

“Are you packing?” She asked her eldest daughter, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Rosie nodded, turning her back to her mother and she grabbed the last of the prepared items off her nightstand, delicately placing them in the bag. “Yeah, I’m almost done,” she informed her.

Her mother was quiet for a moment and as Rosie snuck a glance over her shoulder to Genevieve, she saw the mix of amusement and curiosity on her face. “You didn’t have Claire do it for you?” She questioned.

She simply shrugged. “She got all my basics but since I’ll be gone for two months I wanted to make sure I had some of the things I wanted,” she explained, and it was true - Claire had packed more clothes than Rosie had time to wear on tour, for everything from galas with dignitaries to visiting local youth sports programs to the very slight downtime she may have during her days. But it didn’t mean she wouldn’t want her favorite pair of slippers, hair brush, hair masks, or even her comfiest shirt to sleep in - the well-worn one she’d gotten early on at university.

A silence hung in the room for several moments as Rosie left the bag on her bed, knowing either Claire or one of the other aides would close up the bag when they fetched it later. She turned to her mother, arms crossed over her chest, both of them unsure what to say. The conversation didn’t feel strained, however, her relationship with her mother was well beyond the point of being uncomfortable after a lifetime of this. Of feeling that they never quite fit together the way her university friends seemed to with their mothers, having had a lifetime of caregiving to connect.

Instead, Rosie had never felt connected to her in any warm and fuzzy way. She and Annie had been kept at an arm’s distance from both of their parents through their childhood, and James had only been closer to prepare him for his future. Otherwise, the children were pawned off to nannies, teachers, and - eventually - to their respective boarding schools, with only the occasional letters or calls home.

“It’ll be nice and warm on the coast when you go. All of those beaches are so beautiful,” the Queen pointed out, and Rosie furrowed her brows a bit at those words but quickly schooled her expression.

“I’ve seen the schedule and I don’t think I'll hardly have time to breathe let alone go to the beach.”

Genevieve’s face faltered for a moment, her posture falling before straightening. “I’m sorry Rosalie…” she trailed off, her voice meek. “I’m mostly sorry you have to go on this tour at all.”

But Rosie shook her head, pushing herself forwards from where she’d been leaning on the footboard of her bed. “It’s fine,” she deflected, running a hand through her long hair, pausing momentarily before pointing out, “Dad and James overrule everyone, but that’s nothing new.”

Her mother’s frown deepened but a short knock at the door interrupted them. Rosie looked at her mother, watching as she called for them to enter. But to her surprise, the Palace staffer was there not for her mother, but for herself, informing her that Prince James was waiting for her down in the garden.

With an awkward goodbye to her mother, she left the room, the staffer trailing behind her along with a member of the security team as she made her way down various stairways, through historic hallways. As she made her way out to the gardens of the Palace, she found her brother waiting for her on a bench in front of dancing fountains, sitting in the sun.

They chatted briefly - James telling Rosie about his upcoming meetings with the Prime Minister, what he’d heard about the latest elections globally, and even that Annie’s university field hockey team had won their latest game.

It was simply passive small talk, serving only to try to break the ice and quell the tension between the siblings as they started to walk the gravel pathways through the garden, as James finally asked her, “Do you remember when you met Chris before? A few years ago?”

“Should I?” She asked, hardly able to remember much beyond the memorable meetings or the regular contacts she had outside of the Palace - those she spoke to often at her favorite charities, the nurses she regularly saw during visits to the hospital, and some of the more lively members of the public she’d met.

A sideways grin appeared on James’ face as he told her, “Not really, he’s only been my best friend for the past eight years.”

She gave him a sideways glare, thankful she’d worn flats as she stepped through the gravel. “Is that the real reason you want him on this tour? So you can spy on me?” She asked, her voice unamused.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice serious for a moment until she elbowed his side, making him laugh and hold his hands up placatingly before telling her, “I’m kidding, I want him there because I trust him more than anyone and I think he’ll make it easier for you.”

She dropped her eyes to the gravel, staring at the rocks with every passing step as her voice quietly admitted, “I don’t know that there’s a lot that’ll make it better.”

“Trust me, Chris will,” James promised her, and a familiar, comforting grin appeared on his face as he continued, “We roomed together all four years at uni, did all of our basic training together and were in the same unit so trust me when I say that once you guys warm up to each other, you’ll love him, he’s great.”

Although James kept talking about some memories over the years with Chris, Rosie couldn’t seem to concentrate on his words and found her mind wandering. She knew that James was just trying to help but she just felt like there wouldn’t be anything that would make this tour easier, and in fact having to get used to someone new seemed harder for her.

She tried to follow along as James laughed and recalled various adventures and misadventures the pair had gotten into over the years, but it did nothing to quell her growing anxieties as they slowly made their way from the gardens back towards the Palace, where a tall, lean figure came out of the doors and made their way over to them.

Having met literally thousands of people over the years Rosie had become very intuitive at reading people. It was easy for her to spy the nervousness in the tense and rigid appearance of his body. She glanced at his hands that were fidgeting inside his pockets, pulling them out before shoving them back in again as he walked closer to the siblings.

As his tall frame came to stop in front of her, she felt a little bit relaxed at the kindness that was evident in his eyes while his low voice greeted her with a bow, “Princess Rosalie, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

When he stood back up, she saw the polite smile across his lips. It was obvious that the smile was a little tense and didn’t quite reach his eyes, keeping it from being fully genuine but even still, Rosie couldn’t help but feel just how effortlessly charming it was and suddenly she found herself searching her brain for just how she could have forgotten having met him.

She reached out her perfectly manicured hand to take his, shaking it with the many layers of manners she had learned over the years and replied, “Nice to see you as well. Thank you for joining the tour.”

“It’s an honor," his blue eyes arched kindly while their hands disconnected.

“I’m glad you both are going to be together,” James couldn’t help but chime in before reaching over to give Chris a hearty pat on the back as he informed her, “Rosie, this guy is the best pilot I’ve ever seen. I swear he spends more time pouring over his plane than he does anything else.”

Rosie intently watched while the captain’s eyebrow rose, a jovial smirk dancing across his lips while he retorted, “Can you blame me when you’re the one I had to hang out with?”

“Hey you shouldn’t be making fun of me, I got you a pretty good gig for the next two months,” James argued with his hands held in defense.

Hearing his words made all of the feelings that were so near the surface come bubbling over as she muttered quietly, “I’m not so sure you did.”

It didn’t seem as if either of the men heard her, or if they did, both chose to ignore her as she was so often used to before Chris nodded politely at her and said, “I’m looking forward to being in your service, princess.”

With a surface smile, she easily replied, “Thank you, Captain. We’re honored to have you.”

After Rosie politely shook his hand and Chris bowed, she excused herself to head back into the palace to attend to the laundry list of things that were still left to do as the sound of the two men’s laughter echoed behind her. It was obvious to her that James had connected deeply to Chris and she honestly was so happy that they had. Rosie wanted James to have someone that he trusted and was so close to, knowing in their life how nearly impossible that felt, but at the same time she just wished that James could understand that was the exact reason that she didn’t want Chris.

At this time Rosie was supposed to have a break from the duties she had been thrown into the past four years in James’ absence. She finally was going to be able to step back but that was long gone now. The past few weeks she had come to accept it and knew she didn’t have a choice, but she had hoped that she would be able to bring more of the staff she felt comfortable with, someone to make her feel like she had a friend when she so often felt utterly and completely alone. But she knew that what James or her father said went no matter what. The best she could do was just hope these next two months would go by as quickly as possible.

A/N: Thank you for your patience as we tried to write some more before posting! We are so so excited to share this story and hope you are enjoying it as well.

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