#chris pine angst

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Oh Oliver Oliver Oliver how I love thee!!

In flux you say

Dealing with changes you say

Velocity you say

A lot of possibility you say

So many most excellent things all in one answer!

Flux and change in the same sentence is so interesting and telling on several fronts (and not just Eddie’s moustache!). It’s very loudly saying bt bones sooner rather than later, but it’s also suggesting some things going down at the firehouse and maybe with Bobby (the working together during the plane emergency was very much giving me calm before a storm vibes) which I’m excited to see as I think it will be fabulous for Bucks development both personally and professionally. But it’s also giving me changes with Eddie vibes - and on a couple of fronts - the Christopher front, and the personal front.

The use of velocity is an interesting choice - when you think Bucks been stuck on that hamster wheel for so long and then got off one to land on another, the fact we’re now talking velocity is pretty interesting! It’s very much suggesting we’re going to get a huge amount of buck set up stuff in the next couple of episodes - on multiple fronts. So btw bones obviously, which I’m expecting to trigger some soul searching and figuring out - that his bisexual awakening has triggered buck knowing himself more than he ever has before but that Tommy has been holding him in stasis and as soon as he’s gone it will actually catapult him forward quite dramatically.

I mean velocity is giving me feelings for Eddie realisation vibes, but then, because I think in 806 Eddie is going to shave the stache off and then head off to Texas to try to fix things with Chris, things settling down for buck for a little bit makes a lot of sense to me. In combination with ‘a lot of possibility’ and the concept of ‘next step’ and Oliver being excited to see where ‘the story goes in the not to distant future’ it’s very much giving buck sort of pining era vibes. Eddie being physically gone (and working on his own stuff which I expect to take 2 episodes at most) giving buck some processing space would be great to watch - especially if we are shown them being in contact by phone and video chat etc. As the audience we’d get to see Buck actively knowingly in love whilst not being able to act on it - Oliver obviously wouldn’t know yet how that initial pining era is going to go from there because it would take us through to 808 - which is what they’re finishing up right now, so it’s all set up to be exciting because Eddie will then return and Chris will be back (he better or I will be protesting at the studio!) so focus will shift to that aspect for an episode or so, and we’ll have fully pining buck who’s also delighted Chris is back and that leads to a cliffhanger mid season on the will they won’t they front!

I can see it all so clearly and I’m very here for it please and thank you

[master-of-stupidity]

Need y'all to be just as insane bout this idea as I am

(Click for better quality)

[tpwkwriter]

PLEASEE do one when H and y/n are at Harrys DWD premier and Chris pine is very flirty with y/n and looky with her and harry just gets protective and does all the things he can do to prove to him that y/n is his, pleaseee that would be so cute

you.

Didn’t he just look so dreamy this day? 😭thanks for the request bc I’m actually crying of how cute this concept acc is😫 enjoy!❤️

PLEASE NOTE: I am aware Chris pine would never hit on a taken woman this is for story purposes only!!!!🫶🏼

Warnings: jealousy, cussing, some flirty behaviour, angstyyyy, upset Harry 😭, fluffy ending!!!

— — — — —

It was a sunny day in Venice, the sky was a light blue, the sunshine was really doing its thing, it was a perfect day to be a plus one at Venice film festival.

When y/n heard about Harry’s upcoming physiological thriller ‘don’t worry darling’ she was ecstatic.

Every moment in his crazy career she was there for she hadn’t missed a a single thing.

“Y’not joining me for the carpet?” He asks realising her hand was no longer locked in his.

“This is your moment H, m’happy to watch” she smiled.

He glanced over to the carpet to which Chris pine, gemma chan and nick kroll were already occupying.

“I wouldn’t have done with film without you lovie, c’mon” he said pressing a kiss to her forehead and taking her hand once more.

“Fine” she sighed.

When Harry revealed them from the black curtain that shielded them from the world, the mixed audience of fans, film enthusiasts, paparazzi and journalists, erupted into cheers and heckles.

“Harry, Harry over here!”

“Harry we have questions for you!”

And to y/n’s surprise even some directed to her.

“Y/n you look beautiful”

“Y/n are you proud of this movie”

In a loving and protective manner Harry slid his arm around the girls waist and guided her next to Chris for photos to be taken.

As the main cast/crew member pictures had been taken, Gemma went off to have an interview? Nick found himself speaking to Harry which left y/n and Chris still next to each other.

“You Look good y/n” Chris says turning to the girl now having his full attention.

“Oh Chris, thank you! You don’t scrub up to bad either!” She playful gested

“Y/n, Chris come over we have some questions!!” a male reporter chanted.

Chris placed his palm on the lower of y/n’s back and walked towards the reporter.

Harry took a glance back at where he thought y/n was, a panic filled his mind when he couldn’t see her or Chris.

“Don’t panic mate she’s right there with Chris” nick noted making him turn the opposite direction.

“How did you-?” He asked.

“I know you too well, she’s all you think about” nick laughed.

Harry turned to his girl who spoke to the microphone the man was holding towards her.

Watching her do the most simple stuff made Harry realise how lucky he truly was.

The only thing he was sure of is the eyes of the one and only Chris pine staring her down.

Now, Harry wasn’t normally a jealous type but when a man like Chris appears, he can’t help but feel like he has no chance.

“Yeah, no y/n has been great! She delivered us all hot coffee and if we were lucky then donuts” Chris laughs thinking about the fond memories there shared through the filming.

Chrises hand slowly rubbed up and down her exposed arm as she spoke.

That did not go unnoticed by Harry.

“But filming was super fun to watch and seeing the movie made it all really worth it! I mean everyone involved did great”

“And it’s amazing seeing the actors behind the-“

Harry had snaked his muscular arms around her waist forcing Chris’s to remove his, and pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek.

“Oh hi Harry” she giggled

“Carry on Angel” he reassured.

“As I was saying yeah- um it was really interesting seeing behind the scenes”

Harry continued pressing mini kisses to her cheek and using his thumb to slowly trace her waist.

“The world is going to go crazy over this” the camera man laughed.

Y/n blushed and placed her hands on top of Harry’s.

Once the interview was over Harry pulled the girl close to his chest.

“Y’do know the world can see us” she said giving into his touch nonetheless.

“Oh well, at least the world know y’mine” he emphasised.

“Hey guys” a familiar deep voice chimed.

“Hey man” Harry replied reluctantly letting go of his girl.

“You 2 joining us for some fine dining?” He said straightening his blazer and hair.

“You up for it baby?” Harry asked looking back to his girl

“Oh yeah of course” she smiled.

���Great well I guess I’ll see you then!” He said patting her arm and heading off into the posh car to be taken to the location.

“God he has a thing for you” Harry said annoyingly with a roll to his eyes.

“Harry” she laughed

“Chris pine has a thing for me?” She continued.

“Mmm not sure about that love” she giggled.

Y/n wrapped her arm around his waist.

“I love you” she mumbled into his side.

“Love you too”

— — — — —

The cast of ‘DWD’ sat around a table that was located in one of Venice’s fanciest restaurant and poshest experiences.

Y/n couldn’t deny Harry had looked devilishly handsome the whole day and despite being next to the idols like Chris and Nick she only had eyes for him and will only have eyes for him.

Y/n was sandwiches between Harry and Chris with jemma, Nick opposite with Florence and Sydney head of the table.

“I love the material of your dress y/n” Chris nonchalantly mumbled while running his fingers on the red satin dress.

“Yeah it’s nice right, don’t you look beautiful baby” Harry was quick to say pressing a kiss on her temple.

“Where is it from?” Chris asked.

“Oh this is-“ y/n started.

“This is Gucci isn’t it darling? My very own collection tailored and measured especially for her” Harry spoke.

“Yeah, yeah that he did” y/n bash fully laughed.

“Wow! That’s crazy, I’m invited actually to be one of Guccis models for next month’s catalog” Chris bragged maintaining eye contact with Harry.

“Maybe you two should do a fashion collab” y/n mentioned taking a sip of her wine.

“100%” Chris mumbled into his napkin that he delicately patted around his lips.

The rest of the night went down a blast the girls shared laughter and gossip as the evening went on, Harry and the rest of the boys managed to have a conversation and the dining experience itself was great.

Harry just couldn’t take his eyes off of what Chris was to do next.

While y/n was speaking to Gemma who was adjacent to her Harry noticed Chrises heart eyes.

“Oh it’s lovely, me and Harry went a few years back missed it ever since” she began

“Where’s this y/n?” Chris interrupted.

Harry noticed the sudden interruption due to him, he placed his palm on her knee and gave it a light squeeze in a way to show he’s sorry for the interruption.

“Oh just telling Gemma about almafi coast, me and H went a few years ago” she smiled turning back to hemme and continuing her story.

As y/n carried on her conversation, it was the little things that Harry noticed. The way Chris would look from her dress all the way to her eyes, the way he would bite his lip when he had his attention. It was driving him mad.

“And so i Definitely thin-“ y/n started

“Y/n, I have to say your looking beautiful tonight” Chris blurted.

“You interrupted her to say that?” Harry said placing his arm on the back of y/n’s chair and leaning forward to meet eyes with Chris.

“Harry-“ she warned.

“Is a compliment a bad thing?” He answered back.

The tone in the both the boys caused the table to turn to the three of them.

“When I’m right here yeah” Harry scoffed.

“Harry-baby-“

“All I’m doing is complimenting her, something I haven’t seen you do all night” he laughed, causing the rest of the table to watch in shock, those who knew Harry knew when it comes to his lovie there’s no messing.

“Chris” Nick gasped.

“M’not hearing this all night, I’ll be outside y/n” and with that Harry rose from his seat and made his way to the exit of the restaurant.

A cold chill blew over y/n’s spine, this escalated from 0-100 very quickly.

“All over a compliment?!” He laughed taking a swig of his whiskey.

“I should go see him-“ Nick offered.

“It’s fine” y/n sighed.

“I’ll go” she begins as she stands and grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

“Thanks for tonight guys” she said trying to be as friendly as she could.

“I’m sure he’s fine he’s just a bit stresse-“

“You don’t Need to explain yourself to us y/n, go find your man and keep us updated” Sydney said with Jemma and Flo nodding in agreement.

Y/n pushed the cold glass door open with her palm and slowly walked around the place in search of her boyfriend.

“Hey you” she said gently to the familiar figure that stood just by an alleyway.

“Fuck, love I’m so fucking sorry” he started.

“Hey hey hey” she said voice softening.

With a glance she could note the glossy eyes, without another word she wrapped her arms around his blazer clad waist, brung him in tightly.

“How about we get to the hotel and you can tell me what’s going on hey?” She offered using her fingers to play with the curls at the back of his head.

“Mmhmm” he hummed.

— — — — —

The ride back to the hotel was silent but not at all uncomfortable or awkward y/n knew he was hurt by something and she was determined to find out before the night ended.

They checked back into there hotel rooms and much to Harry lamberts disgust there fancy clothes ended up remaining in the floor for the night.

Y/n changed into one of Harry’s hoodies and her joggers.

Y/n joined harry on the bed and immediately made her self comfy, and cuddled straight into him.

“What’s going on H” she lowly whispered.

“Feel like I don’t appreciate you enough” he started.

“Hmm?” She hummed confused

“All night he had something to say, ‘oh your dress’, ‘oh your makeup’ and I just, I don’t know, feel shitty” he said honestly.

“And every look he gave you, every compliment, every touch he gave you it just scares me” he said pushing his head into the nook of her shoulder.

“Scares you?” She asked.

“I can’t lose you y/n, and Chris being this admittedly handsome guy, and giving you so much more attention then I did, it’s understandable”

“Harry”

“Baby, never, ever worry about that, no Chris or any other person could ever take me away from you ever”

She traced the back of his neck with her gentle fingertips.

“Only have eyes for you my love, only for you, and I don’t need your affection to feel loved by you, knowing your next to me or even in my life makes me feel like the luckiest girl ever” she stated whole heartedly.

— — — — —

[oh-my-damn]

Just Steve

A/N: The much awaited part 2 of Ethereal has finally arrived! The incredible gif is by my amazing bestie @justconfettiandsomeddew. I will never stop praising her for her immense talent (I actually cried when I first saw this) <3333

Series Masterlist

Pairing: TWS!Steve Rogers x Neighbor!Reader

Summary: You and Steve have been on a few dates when you suddenly realize he's been keeping a big secret from you.

Warnings: Steve is (still) a literal golden retriever, some angst/frustration, Sad boi Stevie, reader acting irrational and then apologizing (lol). SMUT - p in v, fingering, grinding/making out, dirty talk, praise, Stevie showing his dominant side (i love that), a teeny tiny Captain kink lol, but all in all very soft, first time vibes

Word Count: 9000 (I'm not sorry)

The beautiful divider is by @firefly-graphics

"What movie should we watch this time?"

You plop down on your couch next to Steve, placing the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of it.

You swiftly pick up the remote, turning on your TV and immediately sifting through the options.

Steve watches as your brows furrow in concentration, draping his arm over the back of the couch. You lean into him unconsciously, pulling your feet up on the seat as your side relaxes into his.

"We've been working our way through Star Wars," he hums, his hand finding your shoulder to stroke it gently, "There are more than the three we watched, right?"

You snort, nodding at his words, "Yeah, obviously. I can't believe you've never watched those."

Steve chuckles quietly, his shoulders lifting in a shrug, "I was saving them, I guess."

You glance over at him, quirking a brow, "Waiting for the right girl, huh?"

Steve chuckles again, nodding, "Yeah, exactly. The right girl."

Your cheeks heat up a little at his words, your eyes holding his intensely. The hand on your shoulder slowly moves upwards, his fingers sliding into your hair.

"C'mere," he whispers softly as he pulls you closer, "You haven't kissed me yet, today."

You giggle quietly before leaning in, gently brushing your lips over his. He lets out a content sigh, the fingers in your hair tightening their hold when his lips chase yours.

His soft lips move over your own languidly, the hand at the back of your head controlling your motions when he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

You drop the remote before your fingers grip his t-shirt, leaning your body into his to kiss him more determinedly.

You swipe your tongue over his bottom lip, and he lets out a low groan before his plump lips part, his tongue tangling with your own.

His free hand slides up your thigh, and it makes you squirm a little, moaning softly into his mouth.

His fingers grip your flesh firmly, massaging your skin, your mind turning foggy.

But then you pull back right as his hand starts trailing higher.

"Stevie," you breathe out, your eyes fluttering open to look at him, "I need.."

You hesitate, and he tilts his head in a question, watching you intently. You want to lose yourself in the blue of his eyes, his pupils dilated as his gaze stays locked on your face.

"Can we.. Would it be okay if we.. Took it slow?" You whisper, reaching up to cup his cheek, "It's just, I.. I'm not.. That experienced, and I want it to mean something."

Steve's eyes search your face for a moment before he smiles, nodding gently, "Of course, sweetheart. We can wait as long as you need. I'm in no rush."

"Are you sure?" You whisper nervously. You wouldn't have imagined someone who looks like Steve to be used to taking it slow.

Steve nods again, tilting his head to kiss your palm, "I'm sure, baby. We'll take it slow. Don't worry."

You lean in to kiss him again, and Steve lets out a sound of surprise before you quickly pull back to curl up against him on the couch. You pick up the remote while his hand finds your hair again, stroking it gently as you press play.

You hang your coat on the rack at the entrance of Janine's apartment when you enter, toeing your shoes off before you walk inside.

"It's pouring outside," you complain, immediately heading to the open spaced kitchen for a glass of water. You spot her sitting on the couch next to Melanie, both of them with their backs to you as they watch something on TV. "I'm practically soaked."

Janine only hums in response, and so does Melanie, which makes you frown a little as you take a sip of your water. You glance at the screen, noticing it's the news, before putting down your glass and taking a few steps closer to them, "You guys. Did you hear me?"

Melanie shushes you, keeping her eyes locked on the screen, "Shh, we're trying to watch this, something is happening."

Your frown deepens as you walk over to the couch, taking a seat next to Melanie. You lower your voice, watching the screen, "What's going on?"

You can hardly tell what's happening, it's some form of fight, the news feed is chaotic and unable to focus properly.

Then your eyes suddenly widen in surprise, "Holy shit, are those robots?"

"Yeah," Janine mumbles, "Killer fucking robots."

"Jesus," you breathe out, leaning forward a little to get a better look, "Where is that?"

"Sokovia," Melanie responds quietly, "it's a country in Europe."

"Oh.." you watch in fascination, your interest piquing when you see a robot in red and gold. "Why does that robot look different from the others? And why is it fighting them?"

Melanie snorts, "That's not a robot, that's Iron Man."

You turn to look at her, "Is he that tech guy turned superhero?"

"Yeah," Janine nods, keeping her eyes on the screen, "Tony Stark."

You hum and nod, glancing back at the TV.

"Why are the Avengers there? I thought they only fought crime in the US."

"They fight crime wherever there is crime," Melanie states, "They're not like the military, they're more like independent contractors."

You nod again, leaning back on the couch before you cross one leg over the other. Then you gesture at the screen when you spot someone shooting arrows, snorting in amusement, "He's shooting arrows at robots? That's ridiculous. Is this real?"

"Yes, it's real," Janine says before looking at you pointedly, "And that's Hawkeye, he's incredible, you know. He's fighting alongside the others with no super powers and no special enhancements."

Your brows raise in surprise, "Oh, okay. Yeah, that is actually pretty cool."

"They're all really cool," Melanie corrects, "Every single one of them is like a mini god."

"Oh, I've heard of the god guy," You interject quickly, "He's the one wlth the hammer. I saw it on instagram."

"Yeah, Thor," Janine says absentmindedly, "He's a dreamboat."

You watch the screen for a while longer until you spot a shield flying through the air.

"That's Captain America, right? The one with the shield?"

You watch as the shield is caught by a big guy wearing a navy suit and a cowl, not noticing how your friends share a look between the two of them.

"It is," Janine says, eyeing you hesitantly, "I didn't think you knew about him."

"I don't know much," you shrug, watching the screen, "But I remember that it was a big deal when they found him in that freezer, or whatever."

"The ice," Melanie snorts, "They found him in ice."

"Same thing," You shrug, "He's a bit too patriotic for my taste."

"Is that so?" Janine inquires, glancing at you, "You don't like him?"

"I don't really have an opinion, but he wouldn't be my favorite," You state, slowly getting bored as you watch the action unfolding.

"Should I get us some snacks?" You ask, and before Janine can even respond, you get up from the couch to walk to the kitchen, "I'm gonna get us some snacks."

You tune out your surroundings while you get chips and make some popcorn, oblivious to the quiet conversation happening on the couch.

"She still doesn't know?" Melanie whispers to Janine, "How has he not told her yet?"

"We're not even sure if it really is him," Janine responds, "It could just be a coincidence. The name thing."

"Yeah, okay, you're right," Melanie nods slowly, mulling it over before she says, "But she said he was really hot, though."

"Lots of guys are hot," Janine scoffs, "Doesn't mean anything. If it really was him, we would have known about it by now."

"Yeah, but what-"

"All good!" You cheer as you walk back towards the couch. You place the snacks on the coffee table before you plop down in your former spot.

You reach over to take a handful of popcorn, chewing them while you ask, "Are we gonna watch this all day?"

Melanie looks over at you before she grabs the bowl of popcorn to hold it in her lap, "Do you not want to watch it? I mean, it's pretty interesting, you have to admit that."

"Sure," you shrug, chewing another handful, "But you guys know I'm not into those Avenger guys. Like that one, Captain America, what a pretentious fucking douchebag name. And his costume is even worse."

You gesture to the screen, watching as the camera follows the giant shield flying through the air.

"You just know he'll be the type of guy to be all full of himself, he's probably not even-"

Your sentence is cut short when the camera follows the shield as it's caught. You practically choke when the camera zooms in and you recognize Steve's face, now no longer obscured by the cowl he was wearing earlier.

Melanie and Janine both turn to look at you at your abrupt silence, their brows furrowing in anticipation.

"Holy shit," you breathe out, panicking when the camera pans away to focus on a red-haired woman instead, "Wait, stop! Go back, rewind! Rewind!"

You jump up from the couch, yelling loudly and making Janine flail for the remote. She does as instructed, and watches in part amusement and part horror as you round the coffee table to get closer to the screen.

"Right there! Stop!" You exclaim when the camera focuses on Steve's face. Your mouth drops open, your heart practically stopping in your chest.

"Oh my god," you whisper, dumbly reaching out to touch the screen, "Oh my god. It's Steve."

Melanie and Janine glance at each other before Melanie hesitantly asks, "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm fucking sure!" You yell in response, keeping your eyes locked on the TV, "You think I don't recognize my own fucking boyfriend?!"

"Boyfriend?" Janine quips, "Since when is he your boyfriend?"

Her words make you whip around to face the two of them, your lips clamping shut. You let out a small huff before you say, "He isn't, technically, but he could be, eventually.. You know?"

Then you glance back at the TV as you hurriedly say, "And anyway, that's not the point! The point is that Steve is on TV and he's wearing that stupid costume and throwing a shield around!"

You immediately turn to look at them again, "Steve is Captain America! Is he?! Is Steve Captain America?!"

Janine smiles softly before Melanie hesitantly says, "He uh.. He might be, yes."

"WHAT?!"

"We had our suspicions," she continues, exchanging a glance with Janine, "But we weren't sure. We figured you'd know, if he really was.. You know?"

You huff in annoyance, immediately digging your phone out of your pocket and finding his number.

"What are you doing?" Melanie asks as she watches you.

"Calling him," you grumble, "Gotta find out if it's really true or not."

"Babe, he's literally in a giant fight, the newscast is live. He won't answer."

"Then I'll leave a fucking message," you seethe, pressing his name before you bring the phone to your ear.

The call immediately goes to voicemail.

"You've reached Steve Rogers. Please leave a message after the tone."

As soon as you hear the beep, it's like your mind goes blank, making you spew out your thoughts angrily.

"Steven! Please explain to me why I'm currently watching you throw a GIANT FRISBEE AFTER KILLER ROBOTS?! YOU BETTER HOPE YOU DIE IN THAT FIGHT BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T, BEST BELIEVE I WILL FINISH THE JOB FOR THEM!"

You hang up with another loud huff, Janine and Melanie watching you in horror.

"I can't believe you just said that!" Janine exclaims, "What the fuck?!"

Steve slumps down in his seat on the quinjet, still reeling from the fight he just went through.

He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, the suit clammy and grimey after wearing it for so long. He knows he's covered in sweat and dirt, he doesn't need a mirror to tell him that, and he has no doubt that even a super soldier smells horrific after such an ordeal.

Natasha takes a seat next to him, staying unusually quiet as she sighs. He glances over at her, offering her a small smile, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she says with a nod, and within a moment it's passed, it's like her mask is back up, shielding her emotions from the world. She smiles at him, nudging his shoulder, "Okay, so, about that date I promised to set you up on, there's this girl-"

"No need," Steve cuts her off, putting his hand up to stop her, "I'm good."

"Steve, come on," Natasha smiles, "You can't be alone forever. You deserve someone in your life."

Steve nods, the corners of his lips raising in a smirk, looking down at his hands folded in his lap.

Natasha catches on immediately.

She cocks a brow, tilting her head while scanning his face, "Oh, I see. You already do, don't you?"

Steve offers a bashful shrug, grinning when he looks up at her again, "Maybe."

"Oh damn," Natasha grins, "And you did it all on your own? Well done, bud! Who is she?"

He snorts at her wording, "I'm not a kid, Nat. Stop patronizing me. And she's my neighbor, actually."

Natasha nods, smiling widely at him, "That's great, Rogers. I'm happy to hear that. Did you call her to let you know you're safe and sound yet?"

Steve's brows furrow in response, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, "Well, uh, you see.."

Natasha frowns, her eyes narrowing.

"She doesn't really know I'm Cap.. Yet."

Natasha's frown only deepens, "What do you mean, she doesn't know? How can she not know? We're on the news practically every day."

Steve shrugs, "Beats me. At first I thought she just didn't recognize me when I introduced myself. But she's never mentioned it, ever. We even talked about the army, and she asked me about it, told me about her brother being a soldier. Still nothing, no recognition, no realization, nothing. I think she legitimately doesn't know it's me."

Natasha's brows raise in surprise, "She must not watch the news a lot."

Steve snorts and chuckles, "No, probably not. But it's been nice, actually. I've been able to pretend I'm just a normal guy, taking her on normal dates. I don't have to be Cap all the time. With her, I can just be Steve. I haven't gotten to be just Steve since before the serum."

Natasha smiles softly, "That's great, Rogers. That's really great. That's how it's supposed to be."

Steve smiles warmly, humming as he nods.

"So where does she think you are?"

"At work," he replies with another shrug, "Told her I work for the military, which isn't a complete lie."

"But we've been gone for a week," Natasha counters, "Did you let her know you're on your way back home?"

Steve's lips purse momentarily before he starts fumbling around for his phone, "No, you're right, I should probably let her know.."

Natasha chuckles, watching how he pats his suit down before he finally finds the old flip-phone.

"Good idea. And you should consider investing in a new phone."

"This works fine," Steve frowns, flipping it open and turning it on, "Why would I get a new one if this one works? I have my work phone, but it has so many unnecessary features, most of the time I prefer using this one."

Natasha chuckles again, making Steve look at her in confusion, but then his attention is pulled back to his phone when it pings.

"Oh, I have a voice message," he mumbles absentmindedly, brows furrowing as he presses the buttons.

"Maybe it's from her," Natasha smiles, watching his large fingers hitting the small buttons clumsily. "You know, buttons wouldn't be an issue if you upgraded to a smart-phone," she sasses, making Steve shake his head.

He presses play on the message, his brows raising when he hears your voice blaring loudly through the speaker.

"Steven! Please explain to me why I'm currently watching you throw a GIANT FRISBEE AFTER KILLER ROBOTS?! YOU BETTER HOPE YOU DIE IN THAT FIGHT BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T, BEST BELIEVE I WILL FINISH THE JOB FOR THEM!"

"Oh shit," Steve breathes out, his eyes widening in terror, "Oh fuck."

"I like her," Natasha chuckles when the message ends, "She seems feisty. You need someone feisty."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Steve mumbles, frowning as he opens up his texting app.

"Language," Natasha states, but she can tell his mind is elsewhere when he doesn't even react.

She looks down at the phone in his hand, horrified once she realizes what he's doing. She immediately snags the flip-phone out of his grasp, shutting it swiftly.

"Hey!-"

"Absolutely not, Rogers," she interrupts, looking at him pointedly, "You do not respond to something like that with a fucking text."

Steve's face is tense in worry, his eyes searching Natasha's for answers, "Then what do I do? I have to fix it, apologize so she doesn't-"

"You do that face to face," Natasha states, interrupting him again. "And you bring her flowers, maybe chocolate, too. Judging by how angry she sounded, I'd say chocolate would be smart."

"Chocolate?" He asks in confusion, tilting his head, "Why?"

"Because you're apologizing for lying to her, and the best way to do that is by giving her candy. And flowers."

"But I didn't lie, I was just-"

"You weren't being truthful," Natasha corrects, "And not being truthful equals lying. I think you already know you should have told that girl the truth a long time ago. How many dates have you been on?"

"Just a few," Steve mumbles, glancing at his phone currently still in Natasha's hand, "We went for a ride on my bike, and then I went over to her place for tea, and then-"

"Tea?" Natasha asks, cocking a brow, "Is that code for something?"

Steve looks up at her in confusion, "Like what?"

Natasha watches his confused expression, trying to decipher whether he's kidding or not, before she bluntly asks, "Have you had sex yet?"

As soon as the words leave her lips, she spots the pink tinging Steve's cheeks. He breaks eye contact, slowly shaking his head, "No, we haven't had sex yet. We've kissed, the first time when I went to her place for tea. And then a few other times, too. We had some movie dates.. It was nice."

"Nice? Just nice? A kiss should preferably be better than nice."

"Oh no, the kiss was amazing," Steve quickly interjects as he looks up at her, "It blew my freaking mind, that's why I kept wanting to do it."

Natasha chuckles at his sweet demeanor, "Okay, good. I got worried for a second. So you've kissed, but you're taking it slow otherwise, huh?"

"Yeah, I uh.." Steve hesitates, running a hand through his hair nervously before his voice lowers, "I kinda haven't.. Done that.. Since I came out of the ice.."

"Oh," Natasha breathes out, her brows raising, "I see."

"Yeah, but we've been taking it slow," he shrugs, "It's not like I've been holding off, but we're both just enjoying the others company."

"That's cute," Natasha smiles, "I'm glad you finally found someone you actually like."

Steve chuckles, nodding as he says, "I do, I really like her. She's cute, and funny. Smart, too. Very sweet. Kind. Beautiful."

Natasha hums at his words, Steve's eyes dropping to his phone before he whispers, "Now I just need to figure out how to fix the mistake I made.."

You pull on a pair of sleep shorts when your doorbell rings at a quarter to ten at night.

You're practically scowling as you walk towards your front door, still in a bad mood from earlier.

You're in your night shirt, prepared for bed already, and you're unfazed at your demeanor as you pull open your front door, brows pulled into a deep frown.

But it somehow turns deeper when you realize who's standing on the other side of the threshold.

You huff, eyes narrowing as you glare up at the blonde man towering over you, "What are you doing here?"

Steve's brows furrow in confusion, his head tilting a little, "I got your message. I came here as soon as I could, I wanted to explain.." He trails off, before remembering what he brought, raising both hands to show you the box of chocolates in one and a bouquet of roses in the other.

Your icy facade thaws just a little bit when you take it all in, but then it hardens again when your eyes trail over his form.

He's wearing a blue leather suit, a uniform, complete with red and white stripes, and a silver star on his chest. His face is dirty, his hair matted, and you realize he wasn't exaggerating when he said he came straight here.

"Can I come in?"

Steve's voice pulls you from your thoughts, your eyes meeting his. The familiar baby blue of them makes your heart skip a beat, breaking down your resistance.

You step aside, gesturing for him to enter your apartment, and he takes the hint immediately. You close the door behind him once he's walked inside, turning around to face you as he holds out his full hands again.

"Here, these are for you," he murmurs quietly, studying your expression, "A friend told me it would help you forgive me.."

You reluctantly take the flowers and chocolates, bringing them into the kitchen with you. You place them on the kitchen island before walking around it in search for a vase.

Steve unhooks the shield from his back and places it to rest against the wall before he follows you into the kitchen, his heart aching slightly at your uncharacteristic silence.

He watches as you rise up on your tiptoes to reach into the cabinet for a vase, and it takes everything in him to not step in and grab it for you.

You fill the vase with water before you place it on the counter top, carefully arranging the roses when you place them in it. Once you're done, you take a deep breath and turn to the blonde super soldier standing awkwardly in your kitchen.

"So," you say, your arms crossing over your chest, "You're Captain America."

Steve nods hesitantly, his blue eyes watching you carefully, "Yes, I am."

"And why didn't you tell me?" You ask sternly, your eyes narrowed as you hold his gaze.

Steve lets out a deep sigh, his form deflating a little when his eyes break away from yours. "I liked that I didn't have to be Cap around you. I liked just being Steve."

Your brows furrow in confusion, "What? What does that even mean?"

"I've been Cap in every aspect of my life since they gave me the serum," Steve states, his baby blues meeting yours again, "Every part of my life has been about Cap. Every choice I've made, every person I've known, every single meal I've eaten has been for Cap, about Cap. I didn't realize I would be giving up being Steve when I became this, but for a long time it's felt like it."

Your eyes search his, your features softening slowly.

"And then you come along and for the first time I got to be just Steve. I got to just be me, I got to take you on normal dates, got to drink tea and watch movies and not have to think about anything other than how soft your lips felt. I didn't want to give that up. I was being selfish."

Your heart hurts at his words, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt to fiddle with it.

"I'm sorry for not telling you," Steve says earnestly, "I just wanted to pretend to be normal for as long as I could. I was worried everything would change once you found out."

"Steve, I-" you hesitate, practically drowning in the blue of his eyes. He looks vulnerable, opening up to you in such a personal way, it makes you want to wrap your arms around him and hold him close.

"I'm sorry," you say honestly, "I'm sorry you felt that way. And I'm sorry for being such an asshole about it."

Your gaze drops to the floor, a pang of guilt in your chest. You shouldn't have yelled at him, if you'd known how he really felt, you wouldn't have.

Steve's head tilts, a soft smile working its way onto his face, "Yeah, you're right. You're just an asshole."

"Yeah," You whisper, nodding as tears gather in your waterline. You sniffle to keep them at bay, but instead it triggers them, and Steve's heart breaks when he sees them trailing down your cheeks.

"Oh god, please don't," he says quietly, taking hesitant steps closer until he's right in front of you, "Sweetheart, please don't cry. I was trying to lighten the mood, I'm sorry."

You sniffle again, lifting your head to look up at him, "I'm sorry."

Steve's heart aches, smiling sadly, "Stop apologizing, please. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I yelled at you," you whisper, tears now flowing freely down your face, "I was.. m-mean to you."

Suddenly, his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest. You press your cheek against the firm muscle, the leather suit rubbing your skin comfortingly. Your arms wrap around his waist, your hands doing their best to curl in the material.

He brushes his large hand through your hair, shushing you gently, "it'll be alright, honey. It's okay. I'm not mad at you. You're not an asshole."

You sniffle again, mumbling against his chest, "Sometimes I just say things without thinking."

Steve chuckles, placing a kiss in your hair, "I like when you say things."

You giggle quietly, lifting your head to look up at him, "Even when it's not nice?"

Steve smiles, his hand cupping your cheek before he swipes away a tear with his thumb. His leather glove is warm against your skin, making you nuzzle into it gently, "I prefer when you're nice, but I'll take any part of you I can get, sweetheart."

You look up at him in adoration, your hands sliding down his back to his waist, "I'll take any part of you I can get too, Stevie. I'm sorry I got angry, in all honesty I was just scared and I reacted poorly. Seeing you up there was.. Scary. Terrifying, really. I'm worried it might take a while for me to get used to.."

Steve nods in understanding, "Of course. To be honest, I'd be more concerned if you weren't worried. At least this way I know you care about me."

You scoff and chuckle, shaking your head as you look up at him, "You really think I don't care about you?"

He quirks a teasing brow, which makes you laugh as you say, "Fine, maybe I could be better at showing it.."

Your eyes gaze over his face, taking in the dirt on his skin and his mussed up hair.

"Actually, I think I have a really good idea of how I can show you."

"How's the water?"

You pick up the discarded leather suit from the floor, doing your best to not outrightly stare at the muscled adonis currently reclined in your bathtub. His legs are bent at the knees, showing off part of his thick thighs, his firm chest shiny from the water. His biceps are bulging at the relaxed bent state he has them in, one huge arm hanging off the side of the tub, his long slender fingers reaching the floor.

Steve's head is resting on the edge of the tub, his eyes closed as a content sigh leave his lips.

"It's amazing."

"Let me know if it gets too cold," you mumble bashfully, sneaking another glance at the greek god currently filling out your tub. Your eyes keep moving to his spread out thighs, and the area between them haphazardly concealed by the bubbles floating around the surface.

Steve only hums, the hand draped over the side of the tub absentmindedly reaching out for you. His fingers brush up your ankle to your calf, your heart doing an excited thump when he gently strokes your skin.

"Thank you for this, sweetheart," he murmurs, eyes lazily opening until his baby blues can find you, "You didn't have to."

You smile softly, your chest feeling warm and fuzzy as you take in the sleepy smile on his face, "It's not a problem, Stevie. Just relax. Use the oils, if you want. Lavender is good for winding down."

His smile widens a little, holding loving eye contact, which you break after a moment because your nerves get the better of you. You glance down at the suit bundled up in your arms, "You sure this thing can go in the washer?"

Steve chuckles, "Yeah, don't worry. No dryer, though. I tried doing that once, it ruined my old one."

You snort, a small giggle spilling past your lips, "I would imagine. You shouldn't tumble dry leather."

Steve just shrugs as you look at him again, it's like he's melting into the bath and it makes you let out another quiet giggle. "I'm gonna go start the washer. Be right back."

His fingers slide up your leg momentarily until he lets you go, and you take a deep breath once you've stepped out of the bathroom. You hurriedly move to your utility room, putting the suit in the washer and starting the load.

Once you walk back into the hallway, you almost stumble over the large shield propped up against the wall. You smile in amusement, bending down to gently touch the sleek metal.

Your brows raise in surprise at how smooth it feels, safe for the thin ridges cut into it to make out the circles and star. You glance down the hall towards the bathroom, the door open a smidge, your ears tuning in when you hear the water running.

Your eyes move back to the shield, careful fingers gripping it and raising it to your height. It's surprisingly light, something you wouldn't have figured, and you turn it around in your hands, your head tilting curiously when you see the leather straps attached to the back of it.

You react before you can think, directing your arm to go through the straps before your hand grips one to hold it up. You turn towards the mirror by your coat stand, your lips raising in a wide smile when you hold up the large shield in front of your body.

It's huge in size, practically swallowing you up, and it makes you let out a chuckle.

"Doesn't look this huge on him," you mumble, turning in front of the mirror as you hold up the shield. You try to move your arm around carefully, but the shield suddenly feels heavier when all its weight is put on just one arm.

"Damn," you murmur quietly, "He really is strong."

You try to grip it more firmly, imaging having to throw it around and catch it, and it makes your eyes widen a little.

He's really, really strong.

Your mind wanders at the thought; obviously, you always knew Steve was bigger and stronger than you, the way he towers over you is a testament to that. But it suddenly hits you that he's not just normally strong, no; he's super strong, and for some reason the thought makes your body tingle all over.

Your fingers swipe over the curved edge of the shield as you hold it up in front of you, your eyes transfixed on the image, mind swimming with possibilities. In fact, you're so occupied by your own thoughts that you don't hear the tub being drained.

"Sweetheart, do you have anything I could put on?"

You whip around to face Steve when he suddenly emerges from the bathroom, his brows immediately furrowing when he spots you holding his shield.

He's in nothing but a very flimsy towel, one that fits you fine but looks comically small on his large frame. It's tied around his hips, giving you a perfect view of his firm pecks and chiseled abs, barely covering his crotch before it ends midway down his thick thighs.

Steve quirks a brow at you, his gaze taking you in as you hold up his shield, your brows raised in surprise at being caught. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, large biceps bulging at the action, while he leisurely leans against the wall, keeping his baby blues locked on you.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something here?"

You let out a squeak, fumbling to get your arm out of the leather straps and almost dropping the shield on the floor, but it only makes Steve chuckle.

"Relax," he says with a smile, "It's fine. How does it feel?"

Your fingers tighten their hold a little to steady it, cheeks heating up as he looks at you. You mumble bashfully, "It's uhm.. It's pretty cool.."

"Yeah?" Steve grins, pushing off the wall and strolling closer. You try to keep your eyes on his face, and not on his god-like body that's still damp and shiny from his bath.

Not to mention the small towel that is most likely obstructing what would have been an even better view....

"Not too heavy?" Steve inquires, glancing down at the shield when he reaches you, "It looks a little big on you."

You let out a nervous giggle, nodding when his eyes flit back up to meet yours. "Yeah, it's a little big. I didn't think it'd be that heavy, but the longer I hold it with one arm like this, the heavier it becomes."

Steve chuckles, nodding as his fingers reach out to grip the edge, lifting it up to give you some reprieve, "Yeah, I know. You get used to it though."

He holds it up for you while you carefully maneuver your arm out, smiling up at him, "Can't believe you throw that thing around. Guess you're really strong, huh?"

Steve laughs, swiftly pushing his arm through the leather straps and holding the shield up in front of him. He holds it effortlessly, like it's the most natural thing in the world, and it stirs odd feelings inside you as you watch him.

"I guess," he says with a smile, watching your expression carefully, "I don't really think about it, anymore. In the beginning I had to adjust a lot; I wasn't used to being strong before the serum. Sometimes I still have to remind myself to be.. gentle."

Your breath hitches quietly at his wording, the look on his face as he says it. His eyes are boring into you, the blue slowly being swallowed out by his pupils, and nerves prickle your skin when you remember he's in nothing but a small towel right now.

You avert your gaze from his, clearing your throat quickly, "Right, uh, I guess that's.. Hard."

Steve nods immediately, pulling his arm out of the leather straps before he places the shield on the floor again, "Right, yeah, it can be.. yes.."

He stands back up, eyes slowly moving over your face, your heart beating rapidly in your chest when those baby blues meet yours again.

You can feel the nervous energy burning through you, like a rapid fire setting you alight. Your heart is pounding, you hear it in your damn ears, standing frozen in place right in front of the blonde super soldier who somehow managed to steal your heart in such a short amount of time.

Steve's lips slowly part as you both stand there, staring at each other, his chest rising and falling steadily as his eyes bounce between yours.

You can't stand this for even a second longer.

"Oh, fuck this," you murmur before you take a step, closing the space between you. You reach up to cup his face, guiding it down until his lips can meet yours.

Steve doesn't skip a beat, his strong hands find your hips, and you comply when they lift you off the ground. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms slung over his shoulders as you continue the passionate attack on his lips.

Steve groans lowly, his hands sliding down to your ass, holding you tight against him. You kiss him messily, your fingers curling in his hair, still damp from his bath.

"Bedroom," you moan against his lips, legs tightening around him when he bites down on your bottom lip, "Bedroom, please."

Steve grunts in agreement, stumbling down the hall in the direction of your bedroom while his soft lips continue possessing yours, a whimper pulled from you when his tongue slips into your mouth.

Once he makes his way to your bedroom, he drops you on the mattress, a whine of annoyance just about to leave your lips at the loss of contact. But it takes less than a second before he's back, his large frame looming over you as he leans down, his lips landing on yours again with fervor.

Your legs spread on instinct, allowing him to slot his large body between them, the fact that the towel has still managed to cover him after the commotion an afterthought in your mind.

Your hands are back in his hair, fingers sliding through the blonde strands as your legs lock around his narrow waist.

You pull him closer, moaning into his mouth when he complies and you feel his hardness pressing against your needy core.

"Stevie," you whimper against his lips, the soldier not ceasing his insistence to steal your breath away, "Need you. Need you so bad."

Steve groans, a guttural sound stemming from his chest before he suddenly pulls away, just enough to look at you. His wild eyes bounce between yours nervously, his brows furrowing slightly, "You sure? You said you wanted to take things slow, and that's-"

"No," you immediately whine, shaking your head, "No more slow, no. Please. I need to feel you, be close to you. I was so worried today, so angry, and sad, and worried, and hurting. I was so worried I'd never get to do this, never get to be close to you like this, and then after I was such an asshole, I was worried I'd lost you before you'd ever really been mine."

His features soften, his breathing heavy as he scans your face. His lips raise in a soft smile, words a small whisper, "I've been yours this entire time, sweetheart. You'd have to fight me off with an army for me to stay away. And even then, I probably wouldn't."

Your heart soars and emotion floods you, you can almost feel the tears pricking at the back of your eyes, but before you let them ruin the moment, you pull him back to you, your lips already missing the touch of his.

Steve kisses you carefully, his hands sliding up your sides and under the sleep shirt you're wearing. You sigh against his lips, lifting off the bed a little when his fingers grip the hem of your shirt to pull it off.

Your lips part from his when he lifts the shirt over your head, already reaching out for him to come back, but he doesn't oblige. Instead, he leans back until he's sitting on his haunches, his warm hands caressing your waist as he looks down at you.

"Fuck," he whispers, eyes trailing over your exposed chest, "I already knew you'd be beautiful, but.."

Your cheeks heat up, your smile turning shy as you watch him drink up every exposed inch of you.

His baby blues flit up to meet yours, hands slowly sliding up your stomach until his fingers brush the underside of your breasts.

You release a shaky breath, letting your hands trail up his forearms just as his hands glide over your breasts, two large palms giving them an experimental squeeze.

Steve lets out a quiet sound, one that's caught in his throat when his eyes flick back down to your breasts, watching as his nimble fingers squeeze your nipples between them.

You let out a small whimper, a sound that shoots through Steve like lightning, and he repeats the action, baby blues landing back on your face.

You squirm a little on the bed, hips bucking up involuntarily when he toys with your nipples, watching how your brows furrow and lips part.

Just as you're about to complain that you need more, his hands slide back down, heating your skin as they go, his fingers curling in the waistband of your shorts.

He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod hesitantly, but that's not enough for him.

"Aw baby, I thought you were a big girl, isn't that what you told me? C'mon, then. Use your big girl words for me."

His words stir something inside you, croaking out a quiet, "Please don't stop."

Steve hums in approval, slowly tugging down your shorts. It takes him no time to slide them down your legs, helping you maneuver around so he can pull them off, before he tosses them aside, not even glancing at where they land.

His large palms grip your inner thighs, slowly spreading you wide for him, eyes locked on yours until you're spread out for him. He looks down at your needy center, a groan bubbling up in his chest when he takes in your exposed body, letting his thumbs gently stroke the inside of your thighs, right next to where you need him most.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, slowly taking in your naked form until he's back to watching your face, "You're so beautiful, I could look at you for the rest of my life."

Nerves swirl around your body wildly, your heart thumping in your chest, but you don't have time to think about the gravity of his words.

Because his hands are inching closer, thumbs gently swiping over your folds teasingly, his teeth digging into his plump bottom lip when he swipes one down your slit.

"You're soaked," he comments, tilting his head as he looks at you, "What got you so worked up, hm baby?"

You want to make a sassy retort but you can't, because his fingers put more pressure on your core, collecting your slick, and it makes you glance down at the part of his body that's still covered by a towel, much to your dismay.

"Steve," you breathe out shakily when his fingers move up to circle your bundle of nerves, "Stevie, please."

"What's that?" he teases, his lips lifting in a smirk, "Sorry sweetheart, didn't hear you."

"Steve," you whine, back arching when his thumb swipes over your clit while he slowly pushes a thick finger inside you, "Fuck, I need you."

Steve hums in response, watching how his finger disappears into you, how your body opens up to him so beautifully.

"I know sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning over your body to look at you. He rests his weight on his forearm as he looms over you, adding another finger inside you and slowly pumping them in and out in tune with his thumb on your clit, "Gotta get you ready first, though."

You moan at how his thick digits play you like a finely tuned instrument, reaching up to cup his face. You bring him down to you, lips greedily taking his as his fingers pick up pace.

When he adds another finger to your aching hole, you let out a whine, and Steve takes the opportunity of your parted lips to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You mewl into his mouth when he starts fingering you more determinedly, your hands curling in his blonde locks as your hips buck up against his hand.

"Yeah, you like that?" He murmurs against your lips, making you nod eagerly, "Mmh, I can tell baby, you're squeezing my fingers so tight. You wanna come, hm?"

You nod again, pulling on his hair, which only makes him chuckle as he tucks his face into your neck, "Want that too. Want you to soak my fingers, need to make my best girl feel good."

His lips suck on your neck, making you keen under him, the coil in your stomach tightening and making your body tense in anticipation.

His thumb continues its expert assault on your clit, your hips bucking up before you start trembling, and when you come undone with a cry Steve groans, "That's it, there you go. Fuck yes, you're doing so well for me baby. Good girl, c'mon, keep going."

He doesn't let up, his fingers keep torturing you as you come, prolonging your orgasm, and you can feel your entire body starting to shake violently as you soak his hand in your juices.

You gasp loudly, slumping into the mattress when he finally lets up his assault, but you don't get much of a reprieve, because his lips are back, moving possessively over yours.

"We can stop, if you want," he mumbles against your lips, leaning his heavy weight on top of you when you wrap your arms over his shoulders, "We don't have to."

"Want to," you whisper immediately, "Want to feel you."

Steve pulls back a little, eyes meeting yours earnestly, "I'm serious, sweetheart. We can wait, we don't-"

"Steven," you interrupt, doing your best to keep your voice steady, "I want this. Please, I need this. Need you to fuck me. Need to feel you."

Steve's jaw tenses at your words, and it takes everything in him to remind himself to be gentle with you.

"I want this too," he replies, cupping your cheek, "More than anything, you have no idea. But, I.."

"What?" You ask, your brows furrowing at the serious expression on his face, "Stevie, what's wrong?"

He sighs, his thumb stroking your cheek and swiping over your bottom lip, "I uhm.. You know, the serum enhances everything. And I, uh, I haven't really been with anyone since I came out of the ice. So I just.. Don't know what to expect."

Your brows raise in surprise, "Oh.. Okay.. I see.. Would you.. Would you rather wait? Because we can-"

"No!" He immediately exclaims, making you giggle at his eagerness. It lightens the tension a little, a smile working its way onto his face, "No, I don't want to wait, but I do want you to tell me if I'm hurting you. I don't want to hurt you. So please tell me if you want to stop at any point."

You nod, a slight worry running through you that you do your best to hide, "Okay, I promise. I'll tell you to stop if it hurts."

Steve nods, placing a kiss on your forehead before he pulls back to lean on his haunches again. You raise your upper body a little, leaning on your elbows as you watch him shyly unwrap the towel from his waist.

You don't even notice when he tosses it on the floor because your eyes are transfixed by what was just revealed to you.

Your mouth gapes open as you look at his cock, so much thicker and larger than any cock you've ever seen in your entire fucking life.

Considering Steve's size, it doesn't seem that crazy, but considering how massive he is compared to you, you suddenly realize why he was hesitant about this.

You clamp your mouth shut once you realize you've been gawking at his dick, your eyes darting up to meet his.

His brows are furrowed slightly, his expression worried as he waits for you to speak.

"That's-" you hesitate, quickly glancing down at his cock again before you look at his face, "That's a.. That's a really big dick."

Steve snorts out a surprised laugh at your wording, his tense form easing up a little and making you giggle as well.

He swipes a hand through his hair, shaking his head in amusement when his baby blues find you again, "You really do say things without thinking, huh?"

You shrug, tilting your head when your gaze travels down his body to focus on the massive member between his thighs, "Sometimes I get.. Overwhelmed."

He smirks, watching as you keep your eyes on his cock, and he's not disappointed when your teeth dig into your bottom lip right as he wraps one of his large hands around the base of it.

He pumps it leisurely, watching how you swallow thickly, before he husks out, "Sweetheart, you have no idea how much I want – no, fucking need – to be inside you."

Your eyes immediately flit up to his, your thighs instinctively spreading as you reply, "Just be gentle with me, Captain."

Steve suppresses the low growl building in his chest as his title rolls off your tongue, his fist squeezing the base of his cock to calm himself.

"I promise," he replies, leaning over you again as he keeps his fist wrapped around his cock, "I promise to always be gentle with you."

You lie back and reach up to cup his face, your breath hitching when he rubs the thick mushroom head of his cock between your folds, spreading around your juices. You tilt your hips a little, spreading your thighs as wide as they can go, holding searing eye contact when his tip catches on your entrance.

He breaches your hole, slowly pushing inside and forcing your walls to stretch around him, and you can immediately tell it's going to be a tight fit.

Apparently, Steve can too, because he instantly lets out a choked, "Oh shit, you're so tight baby, fuck."

Your brows furrow a little, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you try to focus on relaxing around him, helping him inside, a whine bubbling up in your throat when he manages to push the tip inside you.

"You okay?" he whispers breathlessly, eyes watching you intensely, "I can pull out if you-"

"Fuck no," you breathe out, wide eyes holding his, "Don't you fucking stop, keep g-going."

Steve hesitates, but you don't give him a chance to consider his options when you pull his face down to you, your lips taking his as your hands slide down his back.

He grunts into your mouth, instinctively pushing deeper inside you in response, and it makes you let out a loud moan against his lips.

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing, his wide girth stretching you beyond your wildest dreams. Every time you think he's fully inside, he gives you a little more, and it knocks the breath from your lungs when he finally pushes fully inside, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

You whimper, and Steve groans lowly, his lips not letting up as they move over yours. Your fingers dig into his shoulders when his hips pull back only to push forward again, your entire body jolting in response.

He sets off a slow pace, doing his best to be gentle, and it helps you relax a bit, the stinging gradually turning into pleasure.

"Fuck," you cry when he tucks his face into your neck, leaning his entire heavy weight on top of you as he starts rutting into you more eagerly, "Oh god, Stevie, fuck."

Steve moans into your ear, his hot breath on your skin, voice breathless, "Fuck-oh shit-oh my god, you're so tight. God you feel so good, oh fuck."

You mewl, nails raking down his back when his hips pick up pace, his heavy grunts only spurring you on.

"Shit, you're sucking me right back in whenever I try to pull out. You're so tight sweetheart, but your pussy just keeps sucking me in. You're squeezing me so fucking tight, I'm not gonna be able to last long."

You let out breathy moans, quickly turning whinier when his cock throbs against your walls, the tip of his cock continuously rubbing against that spongy spot inside you.

You can't focus on anything other than the pleasure shooting through your body, his thick cock dragging against your walls as he fucks into you, reaching deeper than anyone you've ever been with before.

"Stevie, oh, 'm gonna cum, gonna cum, ah!"

Steve growls at your words, suddenly swiveling his hips, and it makes you cry out as you get thrown into a climax so unusual to what you've felt before. You've never been able to come just from sex, and the sensation is different than you're used to, but it makes your body wind tight and burn deliciously, a euphoria crashing over you in waves.

Steve feels it when every emotion floods your body, and he feels when you come around him, your walls squeezing him like a vice.

He lets out a shout, his hips pushing flush against yours as he whimpers against your neck, his warmth flooding your insides.

You let out a pathetic sound as you slowly come back down from your high, your fingers gently stroking his back as Steve pants against your skin.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving a few soft kisses while he trails up to your jaw.

Your fingers slide into his hair, smiling softly when he pulls back a little to look at you, and then you both let out a giddy laugh as you look at each other.

"That was pretty fucking amazing," you whisper breathlessly, "Why did we wait so long to do that?"

Steve chuckles, pecking your lips before he whispers against them, "I don't know. But don't worry, we'll never have to again. Just give me five minutes and I'll be ready for round two."

"Okay," You smile, twirling a blonde strand of hair around your finger, "But while we wait, will you tell me about what your life was like in the past?"

Steve's smile turns shy, "You want to know about that?"

You nod determinedly, giving yourself to the baby blues swallowing you up, "I want to know every single thing about you."

[buddiex911]

With season 8 being less than a week away here’s an angsty fight/conversation I need to see happen.

Eddie: I’m giving you an out.

Buck: Well I don’t want an out - I want to be in. I want to be in this mess with you, with Chris, I, I want to be a part of your life and why won’t you just let me?

E: Because! Because Buck you said it yourself I am a mess and you know you’ve got a good thing going with your sister, with Tommy, with your job. I don’t want to drag you down with me.

B: What happened to always having each other‘s backs? What happened to being there for each other, for fighting for each other? That’s what we’ve always done and it’s what I’m always going to do, for you.

[totallynottinsel]

Warnings: none. Just some tooth rotting fluff for the soul. and maybe a little angst

Ship: Chreon (+ some Jill x Claire sprinkled in for fun)

Ty to my wonderful mom for this whole idea of the gang getting to have a chill day out for once, she's amazing so all credit goes to her for the prompt (: (i've dragged her into the Chreon cult)

Finally, with the world saved once again by the skin of everyone’s teeth, there was that silent, open void left over; it was a bit funny how these top tier government agents and so on had a hard time figuring out what to occupy themselves with when not stopping bioterrorists or shooting zombies. Though most of them had gotten used to that same empty space by now. 

After Dylan had been successfully put to a stop, as well as the events on Alcatraz Island settled—the near exhausted group of friends wanted to at least spend a little time all together before each of them had to return to their own set of work again. Yet the question was…what would they do? None could seem to agree on one thing throughout the various ideas and suggestions spat out, though at least someone had a decent choice. Rebecca ended up saying they should simply go out for ice cream, to which they all happily agreed to. Who wouldn’t though?

They all decided to carpool to make the trip easier. “I’m calling shotgun!” Claire exclaimed as she dashed to the side of the car, sitting herself inside right next to her brother, who’d already been the chosen driver—whilst Jill and Rebecca got stuck with the backseats. But at least it wasn’t too squished for the two of them, or so they would think for a good minute. 

“Hey, can I ride with you guys? I’ve kinda lost mine” A low, unsure voice kindly asked the rest of the group, which was quick to catch everyone’s attention. It belonged to Leon of course, who stood just a few feet away from the vehicle, arms crossed as he patiently awaited a response.  

“What happened to your bike?” Chris asked with curiosity towards the other, his arm resting on the rim of the car’s open window. 

“I…don’t really wanna talk about it.” The blond replied in an underlying tone of remorse, his gaze fluttering down to the ground below him, almost in a shameful manner. 

"Not again…" Claire murmured from her side, leaning forward to try and get a better look out her brother's window, not all too surprised by the revolution. Especially seeing who it was coming from.

"What does she mean again? Jesus, how many bikes have you recked?" Jill raised an eyebrow to the topic, staring at the apprehensive man outside the car with a slightly distasteful, yet nonetheless intrigued look on her face. 

"Too many for my liking." Leon mumbled under his breath as it was mixed with the tiniest tinge of annoyance, which was fair in his defense. He made his way over to the car, and slid himself inside the backseat alongside the other two—who were now stuck being squished next to each other. 

"So what I got from that was, is that I get to sit next to the guy who's known for wrecking bikes and or vehicles? Just my luck." She remarked straight back, her tone riddled with sarcasm as she kept on trying to lean far from him, making their limited space even worse no doubt. "Wanna swap seats?" She asked the woman next to her.

"I'll pass." Rebecca gladly declined, knowing fully well she wasn't about to be the human shield in case the curse of the vehicle wrecker was real all along. 

"Don't worry, we'll get you a new one, again. It's no big deal." Chris didn't hesitate one bit to put up an offer towards the other man, his usual warm and inviting smile coming across his face as he started up the car, one hand leisurely placed on the wheel.

"You don't have to do that, Chris—really. I can get my own this time, eventually…" He denied the gracious offer with hesitance; it wouldn't be the first time he's said no, yet came home to a snazzy new bike regardless. 

"He just likes finding any excuse to buy you things." Claire couldn't help but comment with a grin towards the two, shifting to look back at Leon, who rightfully was trying to avoid direct eye contact. Even if everyone was staring at him with intrigue. "You know he'll get it for you no matter what you say or do." He sank right into his seat after hearing that. 

—-------

"Are you going to pick or just stand there?" Chris asked with a gentle sigh, waiting for Jill to finally order whatever flavor of ice cream she was so deeply contemplating for what seemed like years. At this rate, she'd been holding up the line of impatient kids—whilst Claire and Rebecca had no issues ordering and taking a seat outside the place.  

"Give me a break! It's been awhile since I ordered anything, let alone ice cream." She gave a snappy response before eventually making her decision out of the bajillion flavors this place had, and was glad to leave the devilish gazes of all those kids waiting for their daily sugar intake. 

"Did you order anything yet?" Chris directed his attention back to the silent man standing off to the side, seeming a bit fazed out—as if he'd been distracted this entire time, which might've been true. 

"Huh–? Oh, yeah… I'll just have whatever you're having, I'm not really that hungry." Leon merely shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his hands down into the pockets of his leather jacket, having his laid back demeanor as always. 

"You sure?" The older wanted to confirm, though a hint of concern was noticeable in his voice towards the other. 

"Yeah, like I said, I'm not super hungry or anything…but if I do I'll just steal some from yours." He at least had a half smile going, which was better than nothing at all, but something still felt a bit off. 

The two men returned back outside within no time, ice cream in hand as the sun was shining, people out and about, no blood curdling screams of terror. Or big tyrants stomping around. All in all it was…well, a normal, average day, by anyone else's standards. But for this group of pals in particular? This was like a dream.

"Looks like we've been ditched." Leon snarkily remarked at the supposed other three friends who'd left before them, now nowhere in sight. So…that left the both of them, alone once again to either sit in cricket filled silence as they stood on the sidewalk, or attempt at striking up a decent conversation. What the hell would they even talk about at this point? That was always the question when this scene played out, with no mission to swiftly coordinate with one another, or battle to face. Though in all honesty, neither one totally hated the silence—it was almost nice of sorts to just be in each other's company, no words needed.

"You doing okay?" Chris finally spoke up after at least five minutes of just head nodding and gestures of acknowledgement, having already taken notice of the other's odd quietness, and how he kept on resting his eyes nearly the whole time. "You've been pretty quiet all morning." 

"I'm fine, just real tired. I barely got any sleep last night…actually, scratch that, I haven't got any sleep all damn week. I guess it's catching up to me." The fatigued blond rubbed his drowsy eyes with his hand, leaning his back against the concrete wall next to the store. "I can't seem to figure out how to stop having nightmares, and I feel like I've tried everything, you know?" 

"Yeah, I do." Chris gave a weary nod in return; he definitely had similar experiences with dreams throughout his entire life, though he wasn't sure if his were as frequent, and as bad as Leon's. He's heard about them in detail before, and it didn't sound like a pleasant sight to see. He also wasn't an expert when it came to comforting people, so he gently leaned his cup of ice cream towards the other, offering it up with a kindhearted smile. 

Leon let a short chuckle go as he spotted the ice cream, decided to accept the treat, even if it wasn't a flavor he preferred—he didn't mind at all if it was coming from Chris. He pulled out one of the plastic spoons that sat in the side of it, and popped a spoon full into his mouth, pleasantly surprised by it. 

"You'll always have my shoulder to lean on, just know that." The older said whilst taking a bite of his own, happy to have seen his offer of ice cream be taken up. 

"Good, 'cause I'm beat." Leon didn't hesitate much to carefully rest his sleepy head on the side of the other's shoulder, not exactly being able to reach the top due to their slight height difference. He obviously chose to take the Chris's words more literally than figuratively—but hey, the man was exhausted, so what's the harm in it? 

The two decided to stay there, taking in the scenery; sounds of speedy cars rushing by, or the sounds of distant voices and footsteps. It was honestly quite relaxing, and with how tired Leon already was, he was struggling to even keep his eyes open as he took a long awaited rest—which no doubt wouldn't be happening if Chris wasn't here. They made each other feel safe enough to put their guards down for once. It was sort of like having a big fuzzy blanket you could hide yourself under, and you felt as if nobody could touch you. 

"Hey, Chris?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You really don't have to get me a new bike." 

"I want to." 

Leon sighed in defeat, eyes still closed, knowing there was no way he'd win this argument. 

"Maybe Claire was right when she said I use it as an excuse to buy you things, but it's also an excuse to get to see you. Without having to fight bioterrorist's in the same day."  It was true, he was always looking for little ways to try and see or talk to the agent away from anything work related, and it'd become painfully obvious to everyone around that he was trying so hard to spend time with him, well—to everyone but Leon. 

“All you have to do is ask, y’know? It’s no trouble if you ever wanna call me up and hang around, or something. No need to spend your entire life savings on me, Redfield.” He mentally cursed at his own words after some thought over them, wondering if ‘hanging around’ was the right thing to suggest, should he have recommended going out to dinner? Or perhaps another group activity? He was unsure, and the room was a bit hard to read…so, all he could really do was hope for the best. 

“I might just take you up on that, then.” Well, Chris definitely seemed up for it, so…at least he was doing something right. 

—----- 

"That's a keeper." Claire said with a smile of her own as she snapped a good photo of the two men from round the street corner, knowing it was a rare sight they were ever that close in a public setting—and she couldn't wait to see the look on her brother's face once she showed it to him later. 

"How have neither of them asked each other out?" Rebecca asked with absolute disbelief, shaking her head as she finished off her scoop of ice cream.

"Honestly, I thought Leon would be making moves left and right on him, but I realized he talks a bigger game than he's actually got. And that's just based off a few days knowing him." Jill summed it up fairly well as she watched the two, arms crossed with a small smile before she moved her gaze to the other women beside her. "You Redfields are awful at flirting too." 

"She's got a point, I've been around those two long enough to get the feeling that Chris…isn't necessarily great at flirting…" Rebecca chimed in with reluctance. 

"Hey, we're not awful flirters! I can do it just as well as anyone else, and maybe Chris…struggles, but he gets there." Claire defended the both of them with confidence in her voice, one she'd soon come to regret as she attempted trying to come up with a flirt, or pickup line, yet—she found herself stuck with infuriated embarrassment by the end of it. 

"Alright, stop— look, this is how you do it." Jill set her empty cup of melted ice cream down onto the ground, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped a few feet away, then turned around and walked up to the younger Redfield again, who was still speechless. "Hey, wanna go out some time, beautiful?" 

In all honesty, it wasn't that great of a line, and really shouldn't work on anyone. Yet the way Jill said those words—the way she walked with absolute confidence, and her voice was as smooth as ever—it lit something inside Claire that she suddenly couldn't explain, and all she could say was…

"Uh, sure–?" She uttered out with a mix of confusion, surprise, and…an interesting dose of excitement. 

"Great." Jill accepted it, and was content with her work for the day enough to begin walking back—with a flabbergasted Claire and semi entertained Rebecca following—towards the two men who were practically in their own little world—which would soon come to a speedy crash. "Is he asleep…?" She asked in a low voice. 

The sound of Jill's harsh, sudden questioning was enough to jolt Leon awake from his relaxed and peaceful state, swiftly leaving his claimed spot on Chris's shoulder and very quickly deciding to pretend as if that was the last thing he was doing. And totally was not taking an extremely enjoyable nap on his quote on quote ‘friend's’ arm. Yet now he just looked plain freaked out instead of cool and collected. "Where the hell did you all come from–?"

"We were hanging around the corner, just to let you two have some quality time to yourselves.” Rebecca answered with her usual soft tone,  though it was as clear as day she was in on whatever the three of them were conspiring over there. “Well, until Jill had something to say to you, I believe."

Chris audibly sighed, a bit bitter by the fact his moment was abruptly interrupted, but tried in his best efforts to keep calm about it, just for the 50\50 chance that whatever she had to say was important in some way, shape or form.

“What is it?”

“I asked your sister out, and she said sure.” Blunt as ever.

“You what?”

The silence had gotten so thick, you could cut it with a knife. And that soon faded into mindless staring—just waiting for someone to awkwardly cough, or say any sentence at all. Nobody was entirely sure if this was all a planned joke or quite literal. 

“Jill what do you mean? Don’t walk away!” He threw his hands up in utter confusion as he chased after her down the sidewalk, itching to get a straighter answer and much needed context he clearly missed, whilst Rebecca kept on telling them not to banter so close to the busy road. Far too many times.

Leon didn’t give many words to the whole ordeal, and instead chose to simply watch in saddened disappointment as Chris left his side; he had a blatant frown as he put his hands back in his pockets, returning to the same state he’d been in all morning within the blink of an eye. Although he did have one question that took him a bit aback, out of everything that went down. 

“I didn’t know you…well, you know, were into women–?” He tilted his head towards Claire with uncertainty to his own question, even if they’d been close friends for years now—new information still seemed to pop up out of the blue. 

“I didn’t know you were into my brother.” She didn’t even have to look back at him to get her point across, and held back a large smile while doing so. She’d noticed his sudden spring of dismay the moment Chris walked off right away, of course, and couldn’t help but comment on it if no one else would. 

The blond didn’t deny her accusation by any means, and simply took a stand by her side, a chuckle escaping his lips as they watched the other three repartee all across the street, a true sight for sore eyes getting to see them have a bit of fun. 

“I don’t think he knows either.”

[chris-continues]

Ok having knives be a second choice to Vash angst hurts because Knives is considerably “selfish” for everything except for Vash. He’s done everything to protect Vash but you come into the picture and you occupy his mind from the forefront to the recesses and yet..

you make Vash so happy. The way his brother considerably brightens up even more around you, he can see how he yearns for you.

He’s much kinder than him, anyway. More charismatic and whatnot, more upfront. That’s the kind of person you need, right?

It’s ridiculous. Knives doesn’t have to deal with such childish things. He’s got school to focus on, a job to go to, and he’s got to finish prepping dinner for tonight. He never liked you anyway, you were annoying, and clingy, and bright and..

It’s fine.

[sunrise-of-wonder]

My hot take about Wish that no one asked for is that Asha should've been the king's super devoted apprentice from the start, and he should have spent the whole movie trying to convince her to come back. A whole messed up fallen mentor thing, where the loss of her support is what causes him to unravel. Think of the angst! The drama! The betrayal 👌🏽

[housewifebuck]

Should I post some of my new wip for tidbit tuesday or do u horny freaks just want more onlyfans buck:/

[astraystayyh]

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia" word count: 23k important tags: cruise ships, fake marriage, mutual pining, gay disaster!eddie diaz, first kiss, making out 'cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: kid fic, marriage of convenience, slow burn, friends to lovers, getting together, soft!buddie, miscommunication burn the straw house down by: rarakiplin "buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through" word count: 40k important tags: time loop, angst, car accidents, happy ending all i can see (is you) by: trippedandfell "buck and eddie agree to fake date to win a reality tv show. it goes... well, pretty much exactly how you'd expect." word count: 21k important tags: reality show au, mutual pining, idiots in love, only one bed, gay disaster!eddie diaz for a holiday (and forevermore) by: wikiangela "eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. he only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more..." word count: 94k important tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, pre-relationship, soft!buddie, family feels, fluff, pining little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: idiots in love, mutual pining, christopher diaz is a national treasure, fluff you and tequila make me crazy by: cranberrymoons "in which buck and eddie lose chimney because they're drunk and horny" word count: 1.5k important tags: drunken flirting, season 7, sexual tension, pre-relationship fireflies where my caution should be by: littlesnowpea ".....“there are people on the porch,” eddie says, voice even. “saying they want to meet their grandchild.”" word count: 13k important tags: TW: past child abuse, fake marriage, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, self-esteem issues, protective!eddie diaz what if i fall in love backwards by: redridingstiles "five times buck and eddie saved each other by pretending to be together and the one time christopher helps" word count: 9.8k important tags: 5+1 things, best friends, protective!buddie, teasing, homophobia, marriage proposal i'd never let you fall and break your heart by: autistic_nightfury "four times buck and eddie pretended to be in a relationship so people wouldn't bother them, and the one time they actually were together" word count: 5.8k important tags: 4+1 things, friends to lovers, holding hands, forehead kissies, getting together, mild smut

[burnthatbridge]

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know) 

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious.  “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all. 

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed. 

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled. 

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress. 

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul. 

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it. 

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t. 

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission. 

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else. 

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to. 

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him. 

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie. 

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.” 

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it. 

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them. 

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.” 

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

[pinksturniolo]

Versus - Chris and Matt Sturniolo

Chris x Matt and Fem Reader

polyamorous: characterized by or involved in the practice of engaging in multiple romantic (and typically sexual) relationships, with the consent of all the people involved.

or also defined as: the relationship you, matt and chris have built. it started out as an innocent game of truth or dare one night which turned into much more than you could have ever imagined. trust, respect, and honesty. these are the three rules set in place that are strictly to be followed.

but what happens when they just don't want to share you after all?

content warnings: poly relationship, not much plot to this one, heavy smut, fingering, oral fem receiving, mentions of a threesome (no incest thats just gross), edging, lots of fluff, angst, !matt vs. chris!, manipulation, jealousy

a/n: this was requested by an anon a while ago, so s/o to them!!

word count: 5,436

You just couldn’t choose. From the moment you met them it was a constant battle in your head of who you preferred. And you just could not decide. You loved them both. Which is why you had proposed the idea of a polyamorous relationship 6 months ago.

This came as an extremely difficult task. You found it hard to even muster the courage to bring it up to them. You had no experience with this type of relationship, nor had the thought even crossed your mind until that night. When you had a taste of what it would be like to have them both all to yourself.

“I dare you to kiss me.” You slurred, the taste of cherry vodka lingering on your tongue. The words seemed to escape your mouth before your brain could even process.

Your heart races in fear at what you just blurted, Matt looking at you with wide eyes. Previously the dares were innocent, and the truths were simple questions. Just a harmless game being played between three best friends.

There’s a temporary moment of silence before Chris speaks up. “Don’t be a pussy. I will if you don’t.”

Matt’s shocked expression turns into a glare at his threat, causing him to move closer to you from his spot on the shaggy rug of your bedroom floor.

He takes in the look of apprehension on your face, placing a light touch to your knee. “Are you sure, Y/N?”

You can’t really take back the dare now. Even if you did, it would definitely be brought up later, when you three were sober and trying to explain where your sudden boost of confidence came from would just be embarrassing.

Besides, it’s not like you haven’t thought about Matt’s lips on yours before. And other places.

So, you say yes and place a hand on his jaw as he hovers his mouth over yours. He pauses for a few seconds to look into your eyes and then kisses you, a light moan escaping your throat as soon as your lips touch his.

You don’t mean for the sound to be heard but it’s almost like a reflex, because the electric feeling of his soft lips against your plush ones instantly has your head spinning in a good way, and a throb starting in your core.

Chris hears this, his eyes locked on your face and the way your tongue slips out to touch Matt’s. This is forbidden territory, watching his brother make out with a girl that he’s pined over since the moment he laid eyes on her. But he feels a need for you growing inside him that he just can’t ignore.

He wants to kiss you too, and not just that, he wants to make you moan for him in the way you just did for Matt. In fact, he knows he can do so much more. He can have you screaming his name by the end of the night, so that you forget his brother even existed.

And Matt… well he’s completely forgotten Chris is even in the room at this point. He kisses you in the way he’s been dreaming of every night. His hand moves from your knee to your upper thigh, feeling goosebumps on your skin. The little sounds you make only fuel his fire, the bulge in his pants growing tighter and tighter by the second.

He finally pulls away, and you’re breathless, your eyes lingering on Matt’s before looking over to Chris. His eyes are dark, staring at your puffy lips and flushed face.

“My turn.”

Once you started, you just couldn’t get enough. You then began to develop feelings for both of them. You craved their presence, you became addicted.

 And they wanted nothing more than to please you. It was like a fantasy come to life. Once the boundaries were established and the rules discussed, you three were inseparable. And you were good at keeping it a secret, even from Nick, which was not something one could easily do.

As time went on, you got better and better at managing your time equally with them, learning their similarities and differences, and knowing when to take time to yourself as well, not wanting to neglect your personal life.

But recently, tensions started to rise. You noticed that Matt and Chris were more irritable with each other than they usually were. They argued constantly, starting to become more selfish with you each night. It hurt you to know that you could potentially be coming in between them. You knew that the relationship wasn’t good in the long run, and someone was going to end up hurt.

Despite that, you just couldn't walk away. It was more than just sex. You were in love with two people at the same time. And oh, how they loved you…

✰ Chris met you first.

Exactly 30 minutes before Matt, which he loves to rub in his face every chance he gets. It was at a party one of your mutual friends hosted, and his bubbly and goofy personality immediately charmed you. He had a way of making you seem like you were the most important person in the room, focusing his full attention on you. And once you were introduced to Matt and noticed how introverted he was, it only solidified the fact that Chris was one of the most hyperactive people you had met. But you loved it. It paired well with your calm persona, and he constantly had you smiling from ear to ear with his off the wall remarks.

You soon came to know that these traits were just scratching the surface. The more time you spent with him, you observed how emotionally intelligent he was. He always picked up on your moods, knowing when you were upset or irritated and would do everything in his power to put a smile on your face or make you laugh. He was very trustworthy, and you found it easy to talk to him about any subject of your life, knowing he would give you his honest advice. He warmed your towel for you while you would take showers, bring you your favorite snack when you were on your period, and play your favorite songs every time you were in the car with him.

He protected you, wiped your tears when you cried, and supported you in everything you worked on. He knew the most creative ways to keep you inspired and reminded you every day how special you were.

He was also the best cuddler, always wanting to touch you and be touched by you. He loved to press kisses to your shoulder when he would spoon you in bed, his hands running over your body, always finding his way under your shirt or inside your shorts somehow. He loved foreplay, enjoying taking the time to explore every inch of your body with his fingers and mouth until you begged him to fuck you. And god, did he do just that. He nearly broke your headboard one time from how hard he would give it to you. He especially liked it when you wrapped your legs around his waist, making him push even deeper inside you, nails scratching marks down his back.

But he also adored those lazy mornings when he would wake up hard next to you, thrusting into you from behind. To hold you close to him and hear you whimper his name, to make tears form in your eyes and your heart ache from the loving things he would whisper in your ear.

And then there was Matt. ✿

Matt was incredibly sweet from the beginning, soft with every touch he gave you. He treated you like porcelain, like a vintage art piece only made for him. He always made sure you were comfortable in every aspect, making sure to know your limits. He bought you little things when he went out, like your favorite lip gloss he watched you put on every day, or your favorite coffee from the café by your house, with a note, ‘Thinking of you’.

He held your hand every time you two walked together and made sure he was the one closest to the street whenever you were on the sidewalk. He took you camping for the first time you had ever gone, showing you his way to make the perfect smore and which constellation in the sky reminded him of you. He also loved to tease you, to get you all flustered so he could admire how sexy you were when you got mad.

He would shower you with compliments, reminding you how beautiful he thought you were. He was obsessed with putting his mark on you, constantly leaving hickeys on your neck and inner thighs, especially when he knew it was almost Chris’s night. He wanted everyone to know you were his. And he loved every minute you spent in his arms, cherishing your body like it only belonged to him. The way your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he devoured you, licking up every drop of your juices, his beard tickling the inside of your legs. He loved to watch you ride him, preferably backwards, so he could watch your ass bounce on his dick and pull your hair the way you liked it.

But he also loved watching your face as he slid in and out of you, kissing you while you moaned, swallowing every sound you made. Wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing lightly so you saw stars. And he really enjoyed filling you up nice and full, watching his cum leak out of you and then pushing it back in with his fingers, your thighs shaking and clenching around him.

It was safe to say you were more than satisfied almost every day of the week.

However, in this particular moment, you’re pissed off.

You couldn’t understand half of what was going on in the movie on the TV right now, due to the argument Chris and Matt have been in for the past 30 minutes. Their bickering was starting to get to you, and it made what used to be fun between you three now just insufferable.

“Matt, I don’t give a fuck.” Chris says, tightening his grip on your ankle. He was getting angrier, his eyes on the TV and refusing to look at Matt.

You were laid out on the couch next to him, your feet in his lap. Matt was across from you on the other side. He had been distant since the start of the night.

“You should give a fuck, Chris. I’m tired of you fucking up the dryer every time you use it.” he says, scrolling on his phone aimlessly.

Chris doesn’t respond, only making Matt more frustrated. “Matter fact, I’m tired of you fucking up everything you use. The kitchen sink is still messed up from what you did last week and-“

“Matt, please shut the fuck up. I’m getting a headache.”

“No, you shut the fuck up-“

“Can both of you shut the fuck up?!” You yell out, stopping both from continuing.

You hated yelling but you couldn’t take one more second of their arguing.

You stand up from the couch, walking to the kitchen to get a drink from the fridge.

You pull out a water bottle, taking a sip, and when you turn around, they’re both looking at you with concern.

“I’m sorry… Maybe I should go home tonight. I think it’s time we take a break…” You say quietly, avoiding looking at them any longer, your gaze on the wooden floors.

You hear footsteps pad over to you and see Chris’s feet in his white socks stop in front of you. He puts a finger under your chin, lifting your head up gently to look at him.

His eyes are soft and he places a hand on your hip, rubbing the skin there under your shirt. “Please don’t say that. I know it’s Matt’s night tonight… but regardless I want you to stay.” He says and you chew on your bottom lip in thought, contemplating whether you should or not.

You glance at Matt who’s still on the couch, staring at you. His eyes flick to Chris’s hand on your hip briefly and then back to your face. “It’s your decision angel. I won’t force you to stay here if you don’t want to.” He speaks and your heart sinks at the disappointed look on his face that he tries to hide.

“I’m not forcing her to stay here. I only meant that I want her to know how much I want her here. I don’t want to take a break.” Chris says, rolling his eyes. He steps away from you, the last words of his sentence laced with hurt. He opens the fridge, grabbing a drink for himself as well.

Matt then gets up and walks over to where you’re leaning against the kitchen table. He stands close to you, his hands resting on either side of your hips on the table. “Is that what you want? You want to take a break? Because you know I only want you to be comfortable. I’ll respect any decision you make.” He says, his eye contact smoldering. He speaks very quietly, as if he intends for you to be the only one who hears him.

But Chris does too, as he sits on the countertop, arms crossed against his chest. He doesn’t say anything though, his eyes on you as he listens.

“I don’t know. Can you just tell me what’s going on with you two? Why have you been fighting so much lately?” You ask, looking back and forth between the two of them.

They’re silent and exchange one heated look before Matt finally speaks up.

“It’s just been stressful lately, with work and stuff. That’s all.”

You scoff, not buying what he says at all. “Truth please.” You respond.

Matt looks at the floor now, as if he’s avoiding something and it makes you nervous, your heart starting to race in your chest.

“I think we should talk in private, Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” Chris says and hops off the counter to walk over to Matt before you can respond.

Matt turns to him, his jaw clenching in annoyance as Chris stands in front of him now.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say when I’m in the room.” he says, glaring at Matt.

Chris knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn’t care. He knew something was up with Matt these past few weeks, from his body language and the way he’s been talking. And he knew it had everything to do with you. They had agreed to never let a girl come between them, but now it seems like that’s what was happening.

 “I don’t have to do anything.” Matt responds, getting in Chris’s face now.

The angry tension between them created awkward silence in the room, as you watch with wide eyes. They’ve never acted like this before and you stand in shock, unsure what to do or say.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? I’m sick and tired of you acting like this.” Chris says, pushing Matt away from him.

“Okay! That’s enough.” You interrupt, standing in between them now. You face Chris, placing a hand on his chest as he continues to glare at Matt from above your head.

His heart is pounding with anger, and he takes a deep breath before looking at you finally, his expression only slightly softening.

“Please… just let me talk to him and see what’s wrong. He obviously has something on his mind.”

Chris leans his head down to your ear, tucking his face into your hair and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Just don’t forget how I made you mine the other night… the things I was doing to you in my bed…I know you think about the way I make you feel when he touches you in all the places I do…” He places a soft, open mouth kiss to your neck, leaving shivers down your spine and a wetness in your underwear from his words.

Matt clears his throat, and Chris backs away from you, a smug look on his face. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

He walks off to his room, leaving a redness on your cheeks and your heart racing.

You turn around to Matt, a displeased frown on his face. “I don’t even want to know what he said to you.” He grumbles and grabs your hand so he can lead you to his room.

Time doesn’t seem to exist when Matt has you wrapped up in the silk sheets of his bed, his large hands on every part of your body, his soft lips tasting every inch of your skin. You seem to forget all the problems, all the stress, focused on the way he feels.

You’re currently face down, your upper body flat on his mattress and his hands holding your hips up in the air as he pounds into you repeatedly, knocking the breath out of your lungs. All you can do is fist the silk in your hands, a wet spot forming from the drool that pools out of your mouth.

It’s almost as if he’s punishing you for earlier, the way you let Chris spew filthy things into your ear while Matt stood directly behind you. He wanted to remind you that you were his and his only tonight.

But you were still his angel, perfect for him and could do no wrong in his eyes.

He runs his palms down your smooth back, letting his hands rest in the curve of your waist as he feels himself close. From the way you’re clenching around him and making little whimpers of his name, he knows you’re close too.

“Cum for me, angel.” He pants and you do as he says, your orgasm rippling through you for the second time tonight. It would’ve been the third time, had he stolen you away much earlier in the evening like he usually does.

Matt finishes seconds after you, filling you full of his release. After a minute or so, he collapses beside you, sweaty and breathless. You place your head on his chest, feeling tired but happy.

 Once you both settle down, you decide to bring up what he said earlier in the kitchen, your curiosity overcoming you. “Matt… what did you want to talk about with me?”

“I don’t know if now is the best time, Y/N.” He responds and you look up at him. His face is expressionless, looking straight head. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he massages your scalp lightly.

“Please tell me. I know something is wrong.” You plead with him.

He sighs and pulls you even closer, his chin now resting atop your head. Your face is buried into his neck, listening to his slow breaths, yet you feel his pulse pick up against you.

“I don’t want to share you anymore. That might be selfish, but I mean it. I know what we all agreed on… but I just can’t share you with him. It’s all I think about. Every time you’re with him, I can’t hide my anger. And I don’t want to hold that against him but I’m not willing to compromise anymore. I want you all to myself.”

His words sink into you, your heart almost faltering at the emotion laced in his words. You can’t see his eyes but you can only imagine the way his face must look as he speaks the truth to you. You had a feeling he was caught up about something, but you didn’t know it would be this.

You don’t know what to say, your fingers caressing the skin of his neck, as you process his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. You loved him with every fiber of your being. But if you chose him, you would only be crushing Chris, who you also loved deeply.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know that.” He says softly after your lack of response and kisses the top of your head.

The two of you drift off to sleep after a while, holding each other and leaving the conversation for tomorrow.

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night, some unknown force coaxing your eyes open. You feel thirsty, and sit up in Matt’s bed, seeing him sound asleep next to you.

You get up, pulling on your pajama shorts and t shirt, slowly pushing Matt’s bedroom door open so you don’t wake him and quietly walk to the kitchen, getting a glass of water.

Once you finish, you set the glass on the counter, running a hand through your hair. You think of Matt’s confession earlier, and how you would even begin to address it.

Lost in thought, you feel a hand creep onto your waist from behind and recognize the smell of Chris’s cologne. You jump slightly from his sudden presence and turn around to see a cheeky smile on his face.

“Sorry, mama. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He whispers and you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. “What are you doing up?” You ask him.

Chris has been awake since the moment he left you flustered in the kitchen earlier. He heard your sounds of pleasure from Matt’s room all night, driving him crazy. Every time it was Matt’s night with you, he was in the worst of moods. He couldn’t help how jealous he was.

“Just couldn’t sleep.” He simply replies, burying his face into your chest. “Thinking about you.”

He pulls the collar of your t-shirt down so he can place his lips on the swell of your breasts, letting his tongue poke out to run along your skin. You sigh, your hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, your other hand resting on top of the counter you were leaning on.

He places his hands on the small dip of your back, pulling your body even closer to him, his mouth now biting and sucking onto the flesh of your neck and breasts, like he’s starving for you.

“Chris…” You breathe out. It’s not exactly a sound of protest, coming out more like a moan. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your skin never fail to turn you on, your body a lit with a fire only he can start. He grabs you suddenly by the hips, lifting you up so you sit on the counter.

He stands in between your legs, holding your thighs and continuing to kiss the sweet spot on your neck, right below your ear. He knows how it drives you insane, and he’s getting hard already from the way you’re starting to pant, and tug at the hair on the back of his neck.

“Chris…” You whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles. You feel his hardness press against your throbbing core and you’re terrified Nick, who’s been out with his friends all day, might walk in on you two in the kitchen.

Or even worse, Matt. He would be absolutely furious.

“What is it, sweet girl? Hm? Talk to me…” He whispers, his breath hot against your skin. He sneaks his warm, soft hands under the hem of your shirt, running up to squeeze your breasts and knead them in his hands.

You moan at the contact, your grip in his hair tightening. “What? You scared of getting caught?” He continues, when you don’t say anything.

You nod and feel him smirk against your neck. “Don’t want Matt to see what I do to you?” He says and butterflies swirl around in your chest, your heart starting to race.

You don’t. You don’t want Matt to catch you on the counter with your legs wrapped around Chris as he leaves hickeys all over your skin, something Matt is sure to notice later. You don’t want to be unfair when it’s his night with you, something you all agreed that each of you would respect.

However, the rules have seemed to be bent lately, the boundaries that had been established now being pushed. This wouldn’t be the first time Chris or even Matt snuck around with you behind the other’s back. When either of them had the chance to find you alone, most of the time it ended up with stolen kisses and longing touches.

You couldn’t help but give into your desires every time you were around either of them, even if it was against the “rules.” And you hadn’t admitted it to either of them, but you craved to have both Matt and Chris at the same time again, like the first night on your bedroom floor.

Chris’s hands are gripping the top of your thighs, rubbing and caressing them as he now moves his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth, pulling lightly and then sucking before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You moan against his lips, his fingers rubbing your clit over the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. You weren’t wearing any panties, and he feels how wet you are for him, his touch only making you more aroused, creating a mess in your shorts. You could almost slip off the counter from how he’s making you melt around him. “Shit baby- does Daddy make you this fucking wet?” He groans, sucking on your tongue and your head spins.

He pulls the fabric of your shorts to the side, only teasing you for a little, running his fingers through your folds before pushing two deep inside you to the base of his knuckles. The feeling has you moaning into his mouth, failing to kiss him back now as you’re wrapped up in pleasure.

All that can be heard in the kitchen is the squelch of your pussy as he fucks you with his fingers, pumping them in and out of you with slow, deep strokes. Your legs are trembling around his waist and he wraps one large hand around your throat and looks you in your eyes. It’s dark but you can see the ring of blue around his blacked-out eyes, nothing but lust seeping out of them.

“Tell me only I can make you feel this way. You’re not cumming until I hear you say it.”

Fuck.

You secretly loved when Chris was possessive over you, but you didn’t want to undermine Matt even if he wasn’t here to listen to you say it.

He speeds up the thrusting of his fingers, his grasp on your throat tightening. He’s brushing that spot that’s deep inside you, making you ready to crumble around him. “Y/N. Tell me who you really belong to. I need to fucking hear it.”

“Chris, please.” You beg him, not wanting to say what he’s asking from you. You’re so close, you need to release but you know he would punish you for days if you cum without his permission. It’s a twisted game. And you loved it.

You still say silent, panting as he shakes his head and then removes his fingers from your aching cunt. “No. Only good girls get to cum.” He tells you and then drops to his knees, keeping his eyes on you as he spreads your legs wider, now resting them on his shoulders and pulls you roughly to the edge of the counter, so he can lick at your wetness slowly, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Keep your eyes on me. And tell me what I already know baby. Don’t you wanna be a good girl for Daddy?” He rasps and then pushes his fingers back inside you, harder this time, his lips attached to your puffy clit. He’s determined to have you cumming all over his mouth and fingers, as long as you say what he wants to hear.

He digs his other hand into the flesh of your thigh as you stare down at him, the look on his face only pushing you closer to your orgasm. “Come on sweetheart, I know you’re close. Tell me you’re mine.”

Your hips are practically bucking off the counter top as you ride his face, his hold on you strong. It feels so good that you would say anything he asked at this point, feeling yourself clench around his fingers.

“I’m yours Chris.” You moan, and he sucks on your clit harder, releasing for a short few seconds to respond. “There’s my girl… it feels so good to hear you say it. That you’re only mine. Isn’t that right?”

You nod helplessly, your hand gripping the edge of the counter and your other one tangled in his hair. “Yes, Chris. I’m all yours. Only yours. Fuck-“You feel yourself coming undone as he’s brushing your g spot with the tips of his fingers again, kissing your inner thighs.

“Such a good fucking girl. You can cum, Ma, cum all over my hand.” He breathes. He could almost cum in his pants from hearing you say the words. He wants you all to himself, all day and every day. He was so in love with you.

You’re releasing onto his fingers, leaking down his hand and thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, moaning his name loudly.

He watches you in amazement, your head thrown back in ecstasy, the reddish purple marks on your neck now visible to him and he swells with pride. He stands up to hold you against him as you catch your breath and you clutch onto him, your arms around his neck as you calm down.

It’s then that you make eye contact with Matt, who’s standing across the other side of the kitchen with his arms crossed. It makes a shock run through you.

It is a little naïve of you not to think he wouldn’t catch you. And there’s a look on his face you’ve only seen once before since you known him. The first time being when he caught you with Chris’s dick in your mouth on the living room couch a couple months ago. Granted, it wasn’t Matt’s night but he was pissed at the audacity of you two to mess around there instead of the privacy of Chris’s room. It didn’t help with the jealous rage Matt possessed anytime he saw Chris with you.

And now, this is what he stumbles upon after waking up to see you missing from his bed. Chris making you cum with his head in between your legs on the counter.

He was livid, to say the least.

You remove your arms from Chris’s neck and open your mouth to begin to speak but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you.” Your mouth snaps back shut, and you almost shrink back from the harshness of his tone.

Chris turns around, and once he sees how mad he is, he smirks, his hands still on your legs. “Sorry, Matt. Just couldn’t help myself. Can you blame me?”

Matt doesn’t even look at Chris, his eyes still burning into you.

“This is what you want, angel? You’re not just satisfied with only one of us for the night?”

“No, Matt I-“

“Did I say you could talk?” He cuts you off again.

His arms are still crossed, his checkered blue pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He doesn’t have a shirt on and the veins in his arms pop out, his hair still messy from sleep. The tone in his voice scares and excites you at the same time.

“Since you want to act so desperate and needy, you’ll get what you want. But on my terms.”

Your heart races at what he’s suggesting and memories of him and Chris from that first night flood your mind, making you wet all over again.

“Go to my room and wait there.” He demands and you look hesitantly between him and Chris.

Chris smiles at you, a mischievous look on his face. He squeezes your thigh before helping you off the counter, and motions for you to go on. “Go ahead, baby. We won’t be long.”

You’re dumbfounded at the turn this night has taken as you walk off towards Matt’s room, hearing them exchange words but not able to make out what they’re saying, an anxious but excited feeling in the pit of your stomach.

taglist <3: (if you want to be added/taken off, reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if you weren't mentioned, it wouldnt let me tag u :/)

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @jnkvivi @sturnpooks

[ylangelegy]

⋆.˚ childhood best friend ♡︎ chan.

── .✦ the one where bang chan learns what 'home' means. #우리의_찬란한_청춘_방찬에게 #BrightestStarBangChan

✰ gn!reader, idol!chan, fluff!!!, angst 🙁, childhood best friends, long distance friendship, homesickness, hurt/comfort, ambiguous romance [pining/crushes], open ending. end notes included! ❤︎ all sfw. intentional lowercase. wc: 1,800+

🧸 childhood best friend chan who moves in next door, who came from seoul to sydney and was scared he wouldn't meet anyone his age.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is the only one to attend your birthday party. he flashes you a grin and tries to cheer you up by saying, "that just means more cake for us!"

🧸 childhood best friend chan who introduces himself as christopher— but you can call him chris, he says hastily. he knows his full name is too long. you assure him no, it's okay, you'll call him christopher. he rewards you with another one of his signature dimpled smiles. the first of many.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who spends most of his summers with you. his next door neighbor, his new best friend. he tries to teach you how to play soccer. you burn songs you think he'll like on to CDs. the two of you learn to bike down your street. see? you both still have the scars to prove it.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose fondest memories with you are set in beaches. you're both still too young to surf, so you kill your time trying to outswim each other. it's a tender rotation of portraits— hands sticky with fruit-flavored ice cream, sand in your slippers, the smell of sunscreen.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash guitar teacher. you spend one too many evenings out on his porch with his beat-up acoustic guitar. as his fingers gently guide yours over the strings, you consider romance. but for only a moment. because you'd rather have him like this than risk not having him at all.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sticks to your side at school. everyone thinks you're dating; the two of you give up on correcting peers. chan doesn't quite understand why he's so happy to have people assume, and why he's even happier to have you acquiesce.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, first, about what he plans to do. "it's just an audition," he tells you, but you already know. you already know what he's destined for, who he's going to be, as early as then.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who practices his bruno mars audition song with you over and over and over again until you forget what the original version sounds like. nowadays, whenever you hear just the way you are, it's only ever in the voice of thirteen-year-old christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who calls you up excitedly, who only says two words. "i'm in," he breathes, and there's so many things you can say in that moment. of course you are, and i never doubted you, and you're leaving me?, but instead you settle on, "i'm proud of you."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't cry at the family dinner. doesn't cry at the airport. he laughs when you tear up, teases that you're being silly. think of it as summer camp, he tells you, and when he hugs you goodbye, his hands shake just a teensy bit.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who cries on the plane— because at least, there, no one who loves him will see.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash trainee who keeps in touch. he texts a lot in those first couple of years. you'd like this café. these cherry blossoms look really good. dance practice today was tiring. you learn to read between the lines; he is saying i miss you, but he cannot say the words themselves, because then it becomes real.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never misses a birthday, whether its yours or someone in your family's. shipping fees are too stressful and so he perfects the art of long-distance gift-giving. here, an 8tracks playlist. here, a digital flipbook. here, a video of him singing your favorite song.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who gets busy, who gets frustrated, who watches dozens of trainees debut before him. you try your darnedest to sympathize but there is only so much that you can know about this industry, about his lifestyle.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never blames you. how could he? he made his choice. but still. but still. there are days, weeks, months, where he forces himself to keep his distance. because this is a whole other kind of hurting— saying goodbye and knowing that the door is still left open a crack.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who watches your life in pictures, in the squares of instagram photos, the tagged posts on facebook. you graduate high school, and then uni. you work part-time jobs. you finally learn how to surf. and he is proud, and he is hurt, and he is yours, still, in ways that neither of you can comprehend.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, after being distant for what feels like forever, extends an olive branch in the form of a follow request. finstas are only just becoming a thing in his part of the world. every trainee has one. the first person he thinks to follow is you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who starts reacting to your stories, who replies every so often. your haircut looks nice and how's your mum? and wow, that part of town has changed a lot. it's all so stilted, all so polite, but he's trying, he's trying, he's trying. he needs you to see that.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finally calls you one evening to tell you everything. you are horrified by what he's gone through, by all the times he's been passed over, but chan reassures you. even as you apologize, again and again, for not knowing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, "i chose this. i want to keep choosing it. but—" a beat. then, softly, the words he's held himself back from saying. "i just miss you, that's all."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who slots right back in to your life. he's still plenty busy. at least now he knows that you're always just one message away, that you'll appreciate his updates of i met another aussie today or there's a new day6 song or i can finally stop dieting.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who excitedly tells you about 3racha. about his genius lyricist j.one and his killer rapper spearb. his own moniker is plain and simple, he says with a laugh. cb97. but it's him, it's his, it's a start.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sends you the first demo of a song he's genuinely happy to have produced. my heart is in your hands, he jokes in the e-mail subject line. j.one is good. so is spearb. but chan, cb97, your christopher, who sings "i'd like to start off this speech with a 'thank you' to everyone that helped little chris to grow up"? he's everything.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you in vague terms that he might not be reachable for some time. there's a lot of things he wants to tell you, wants to divulge. there are other people on the line, now, though, and so he holds back. you understand. you tell him you'll wait. he is so, so grateful.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is introduced as the leader of JYPE's newest boy group. he is not christopher or chris. he is chan, now. bang chan. you watch the survival show with his family. you give them a handwritten letter for him, when they go to visit him in south korea. you see him become everything he said he would be.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose hair is two-toned dirty blonde and aqua blue when he debuts with hellevator. you buy his photocard. you still have it up in your room; it makes him cringe, but he is secretly pleased that you cared enough to do such a small thing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who bears the weight of impossible expectations. leader, producer, idol. son, brother. friend. he is so many things all at once. they say he is too much. they say he is not enough. he doesn't know who to listen to.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who blames himself for things that are beyond his control. for 2019. for 2020. for 2021. for— there isn't a year where chan isn't blaming himself for something, really.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finds comfort in the smallest of things. a noisy dorm with seven other boys. the thrill of turning a note in to a living, breathing song. you. your little updates. you. your easy responses. you. your unwavering support. you, you, you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wonders often sometimes what it would have been like if he stayed.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who can see it so, so clearly. the college you would have both gone to. working at the record store; busking in the mall. summers of surf and sun. your fingers fitting in to the spaces between his.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who thinks he would have been happy with that life. happier than right now?... he's not sure. all he knows is that he would have been happy. the two of you could have been so happy.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who often sometimes feel like his youth was taken from him. his teenage years were spent as a trainee; his early twenties were spent fighting for every scrap. he doesn't regret the choices he made. he doesn't want to. he can't.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't tell you any of this. a part of him doesn't have to. you know just how much he gave up. you know just how much he gained. you know why there are certain encores that make him cry, why there are songs he can't bear to perform live. why it's always so hard for him to name 'home' nowadays—

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wants to believe that 'home' means sydney. who, to make things easier, says 'home' is seoul. who will sometimes say that 'home' is STAY, 'home' is stray kids. who knows, deep down, that home is a three-letter word of y-o-u.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, when he makes his way back to sydney, is scared shitless. he's been gone for so long. it's an endless litany of 'what if's. what if berry doesn't recognize him anymore. what if all his favorite restaurants have shut down. what if you realize you don't like the person he's become. what if, what if.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is only partially reassured when he realizes there's still a spot for him at the dinner table, when his old friends don't treat him any differently, when the path to the park still feels familiar.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who realizes that all of his worries are unfounded when you greet him with "long time no see, christopher." not chan. not chris. christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who smiles the same way that he had when he first met you. all bright eyes and dimples.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who holds out his hand, waiting to see if you'll take it.

✰ i think a lot about a line in The Myth of Sisyphus, where it goes something along the lines of "one must imagine sisyphus happy." in some way, this is me #coping (lol). one must imagine bang chan happy. because maaan, does he deserve it. happy birthday, chris.

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ a kiss away ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x afab!reader synopsis: you and leon were supposed to be just friends. until one night, an impromptu kiss changed the trajectory of your relationship. content: smut 18+ only mdni, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, mutual pining, oral (m receiving), p in v, degration, hair pulling READ THE PREQUEL HERE « words: 2.1k┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreicated! »

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

You can’t stop thinking about Leon’s calloused fingers grazing over the plump of your cheek, scorching your skin with hands so cold it reminded you of the rifles you handled during those gruelling winter missions. You can’t stop thinking about how his pupils flared, and you basked in the glazed cerulean of his irises, so clear you could see yourself through them.

Worst of it all, you can’t stop thinking about him.

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Leon Kennedy is your friend, your best friend. Your first meeting was five years ago on the field, clicked instantly from sharing the same corny sense of humour, and since then, your dynamic with him has been strictly platonic. You told him about all your exes, your sex life in detail, who you dated and when you had your one night stands. Hell, you even told him about your revolting bad habits that you kept secret from your exes. There was no chance this man could fall in love with someone like you, right?

…Right?

Truth is, you valued your relationship with Leon so much that you’re unwilling to risk it. You two connected beyond the small stuff, sometimes you find your conversations take a philosophical turn. You two discussed about life, family, dreams for a better world – it’s not the kind of connection you can find again.

And now you two have shared a kiss.

You were startled by the sound of your ringtone chanting through the Bluetooth speakers of your car, piercing through your train of thought. Your brain assigned autopilot, navigating you home after a laborious mission in the middle of Texas for the past two weeks. Darting your eyes at the screen, you recognised the familiar name on your contact list.

Leon. Speak of the devil.

You clicked a button on the side of your wheel. The ringing stopped, and the line connected. Immediately, you were embraced by a glee in Leon’s voice, but only ever so subtly.

“Hey. Welcome back.”

“How’d you know I’m back?” You gripped the steering wheel, a tiny concern brewed in you, worried he would catch your unusual behaviour.

“Chris told me. He’s surprised you didn’t say anything.”

A deep sigh left your throat from your core. You couldn’t exactly tell Leon that you needed time, time to catch a breath, time to process your yearn for this man. No matter how understanding he could have been.

There was no use hiding – Chris would have told him about your whereabouts if you didn’t. Chris and Leon are close friends after all.

“Can’t get a moment of peace with you two around.”

“Next time, call me. I can pick you up.” Your pulse took a leap. In another time or situation, those words would not meant anything to you. It was just how Leon was, his instincts to help others extended into his personal life too.

“So you don’t fall asleep on the wheel, stupid. Your death will not be on my conscience.”

That earned a giggle in your books. You could tell Leon’s light teasing was an attempt to comfort you, to make you laugh, to hear the snorty chuckle between your lips.

“Don’t worry. If I pass, I’ll make sure to haunt you for the rest of your life. Regardless whose fault it is.” You quipped.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Despite his sarcasm, Leon’s voice warmed at the sound of your laugh. You couldn’t help but appreciate these moments like this with him, and you prayed what you had together would never go away.

“Anyway, get some rest. I’ll bring you some food to your place at eight.”

You appreciated how he remembered that you prefer to stay home directly after a mission. After difficult missions, the presence of people could be daunting and uneasy.

Leon’s the exception.

He always brought a peace offering – a chicken sandwich from your favourite deli, a viral dessert you saw in a store once, your usual frappuccino order with ten customisations… If you want it, he got it for you.

“See you soon.” He hung up and you drove home.

You’re thankful for internalised heating and electric blankets. They’ve became necessities for post mission self-care routine like this one. You scrubbed yourself down, cleansing the scent of blood, grease and dirt that clings deeply to your body. So when you finished, you feel rejuvenated. You napped, checked for new mail, checked for bad food in the fridge and took care of any errands you missed when you had to leave swiftly for the mission.

You waited and waited. It was almost eighty-fourty, with nothing but a brief text that penned “Running late” from Leon. You texted back, no follow-ups, no ‘seen’, no double checkmark. You wondered what was taking him so long, before the bell buzz at your door.

You opened the door, prepared to give him a lecture, just to find Leon with a familiar takeaway bag in his hands.

“No way… Is that…?”

“Yes. It’s from your favourite place.”

“Wait, the one that’s always has a long line…?”

Leon helped himself into your apartment. His hair soaked, it shimmered under the ceiling light of your apartment. He must have waited a whole hour in the rain.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you would be nice.”

You hurried to your cupboard, picked up a fresh towel and handed it to Leon for him to dry off.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

Leon nodded, a gentle grin at the corner of his lips knowing that you’re grateful of his gesture. And you genuinely did. No man, no ex, no friend you knew would do things for you to this extent. With your help, Leon removed his wet jacket and revealed his top also drenched underneath, clinging to every bump, every muscle on his torso. You swallowed deeply, slotting your eyes anywhere but his chest.

“I’ve got spare clothes in the car.”

You insisted on grabbing Leon’s clothes for him, thankful for the opportunity to take yourself away from the situation. You took the keys, and took in some fresh air. Anything to distract yourself from imagining your best friend naked on the top half. You opened the truck, retrieved his spare clothes in his gym bag and returned to your home.

When the door opened, you found Leon with his shirt already removed, revealing those sculpted muscles from the results of his vigorous training.

“Sorry. It gets uncomfortable when it’s sticky.”

You gawked, your eyes planted on the slopes of Leon’s tauted arms, pelvis line drawing a deep v into his crotch. He’s showing off. You know it. You struggled through the desire of staring knowing it will just rub his ego even further, but your eyes betrayed you. Leon observed you, a smug grin that made you hold back a punch.

“Like what you see?”

Leon strided towards you, taking his time. You had plenty of chances to walk away now, but your feet are planted to the floor, his dry clothes still in your hand. With a hand over your head, Leon closed the entrance door, and shifted close enough for you to catch his scent – the musky woodiness mixed with rain and his odour enveloped your nose – his signature cologne.

A hand reached to your waist, pulled you in his embrace.

“Do you want to see the rest?”

His breath tickled your ears as he whispered.

You forgot how attractive Leon could be. How others flock to his attention. Begged me to give them his number. With full confidence, you believed those charms didn’t work on you. Blissfully unaware that Leon chose to withdraw his charms in front of you, contrasting to the unadulterated need his body radiated right now.

Breath tightened, pulse sped, unable to keep up with your thoughts. You felt a sensation shot down your spinal cord, knees trembled slightly, a look of mischief clung to Leon’s face. Your body betrayed you, nodding incessantly.

“So honest.”

Leon feet guided you to the couch, sat you till your eyes level to the bulge in his jeans. The blond undid his first button, and your gaze followed the zipper downwards. Leon grabbed underneath his boxers, and his dick sprung free onto his abdomen. With a curled fist, Leon hovered it at the bridge of your nose and pumped it a few times in your direct line of sight.

“Wet it for me, baby.”

He teased, inching his cock closer to the pucker of your lips.

Saliva gathered at the back of your throat, your tongue desperate to feast on him. A droplet of precome leaked from his tip. You grazed your tongue on the tiny slit, circulating the drop all over your mouth until it blended in your saliva. The light hint of saltiness was there, and it was gone again.

Leon hitched a breath, his hands crawling down your head to pull your hair back loosely for easier moment. You hollowed your cheeks, and slide his girth between your lips. Light gasp turned to needy grunts, the hands groping your hair tightened, pushing you further inside.

You curled your tongue all over the head, coating it with your slick, indulging in the smell of sweat intertwined with his sex. Corner of your lips dribbled down your neck, eyes forced shut from the ache of the shape of his cock head engraved in the back of your throat. But you couldn’t get enough. You let a hand go from Leon’s thigh, and reached for your underwear instead.

“Look at you. Can’t even wait five minutes.”

Leon’s blue eyes glistened with cunningness. His hand tugged harshly at your hair, eliciting a pained groan that pulled you off his cock out with a pop. With one swift motion, Leon removed your top and pants, until you are bare in nothing but your underwear. He slid his hand underneath you, pushed your underwear aside, and felt the stickiness as a finger went inside you.

“God, you want this so much, huh?”

“S-Shut up and fuck me, Leon.”

Leon’s expression changed when you told him that. It triggered something carnal within, and shoved your back onto the couch, underwear pushed aside, cock teased your entrance. With one deep breath, Leon thrusted himself in you, ignoring your needy pleas. You shrieked in pleasure, your jaw drowned in the juncture between his neck and shoulders, nails clawing his back.

“You’re sucking me in, baby…”

Leon’s skin flushed red, his sculpted shoulders strained in delight at the impact.

Without further ado, Leon slammed into your swollen, needy cunt. Squelches and the slap of skin to skin hovered the air, and a stir developed in your body, threatened to release. Your eyes tried to brace shut, but Leon’s hand stroked your face when you did, demanding you to look at him. Until your thoughts were filled with him as you finished together. Leon followed, removed you quickly and landed the streams of come on your lower belly.

It was supposed to be a moment of euphoria, but Leon’s expression turned grim, parting from your embrace after his fingers dwelled lightly on your shoulder blades.

“You should have run when you had the chance.”

Leon sighed, regret forming at his tongue.

“You could have had a normal life, be with someone who doesn’t chase death like me. But now that I have you, it’s impossible to let you go. I can’t ignore wanting you anymore.”

You sensed years of agony and sorrow behind his cerulean eyes – you never noticed these emotions he kept so secretively in his heart. How much did he had to suffer when you told him of all your relationships in the past, and Leon supported you each and every time. No matter how terrible your exes treated you.

“That’s not the life I want.” You affirmed, two fingers brushed his lips and reached his jaw. “I don’t want an easy life, Leon. I don’t care how hard it is. I want to be by your side.”

Leon pulled you in tighter into his familiar embrace. He laid his lips against yours, and you are reminded of that intimate kiss you shared two weeks ago. The passion, minty sweetness of gum is so distinctly Leon.

It was his plea, begged you to notice how much Leon loved you. How far he will go to make you happy. It took you so long, but you could finally accept him. You returned the kiss, just as gentle, loving – a silent vow to Leon that you will make him happy as he lived.

“Come on, baby. Let’s eat. The pizza’s already cold.”

EDIT: I wrote a prequel to this! thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose.

[bloatedandalone04]

Good as Gold

➪the one where leon fell in love with you from the second he saw you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, indications of smut, leon pining over you, jealous leon, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood, blood, descriptions of blood + injuries, you all really need to stop with those foul leon fics, i am so serious, he deserves some fluff once in a while, damn

Word Count: 5.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The first time Leon saw you, he knew he wanted to do everything in his power to protect you, despite you being a very good agent and more than capable of protecting yourself. 

Still, he knew he wanted to be around you all the time, and he was quite certain he was in love with you after the first conversation the two of you had. 

When you and he were assigned as partners for this mission where he and you had to act like a couple, he was borderline thrilled, then he realized he would be spending most of his time looking out for you instead of actually getting the information he needed from the doctors. 

It was an attempt at stopping a virus before it got out, and Leon had to go full camouflage for this one. He cut his hair short and hated it immediately, but the look you gave him once you saw it for the first time had him appreciating it a bit more. 

He had to wear a suit that night, and even he thought he looked quite nice, but nowhere near as good as you looked. You were given a dark blue dress with a slit in the side, and he was obsessed with it from the minute he saw it. 

Then you hooked your arm in his and stayed glued to his side the whole night as you both listened to the drunk doctors spill all the information on the virus, and the recorder in Leon’s suit pocket caught everything. 

When you two got back to the hotel you were staying at for just one night, you fell asleep with your head on Leon’s chest, still wearing that sinful dress he wanted to take off you. Neither of you planned for that mission very well, even forgetting to pack extra clothes, so you both had to sleep in your formal attire. Leon took off his jacket and put it over you while you slept, and he spent his night trying to figure out how to face you the next morning after finding out how well your body fit against his own. 

He didn’t mean to, really. They had given him a room with only one bed, and neither of you wanted the other to sleep on the uncomfortable couch in the corner. 

You talked about everything and nothing at all, and Leon was so close to saying those three words to you, but decided it wasn’t the best time. 

Oh, how he regretted that one. 

Another mission you were given together had the addition of Chris, and that annoyed Leon since he knew the Redfield brother had a thing for you, too. It was annoying because Leon didn’t just have a thing for you, he was in love with you, and had been for a year at that point. 

The mission was going well, but Leon had to continuously watch Chris flirt with you, and you did nothing about it since you had no idea about the way Leon felt about you. He was extremely good at hiding it, though he did try to show it in subtle ways; like keeping you behind him at all times whenever you were near something potentially dangerous, or how he loosely laced his fingers with yours under the table as you and he debriefed from missions, how he always let you come to him whenever the weight of the job felt like it was too much for you to handle. 

He did all of it for you, and he wished he was man enough to do more.

Because now he watched as Chris brushed your messy hair behind your ear as you caught your breath from the ten minute sprint you all just did to escape the infected villagers in the tunnels. 

Leon reloaded his gun as he took off in a random direction, muttering something to you about staying with Chris as he went to search for more ammo and weapons. 

Maybe it was petty, and maybe he was acting like a child, but he couldn’t help it.

He regretted it, though, because as soon as he got back to you and Chris, the villagers had found their way to the three of you, and they weren’t letting up this time. 

Leon’s ears were ringing as three different guns fired in opposite directions, and when he turned to check on you after hearing your quiet cry, his beloved gun almost slipped from his fingers as he saw the pitchfork that was embedded in your abdomen. 

He watched as Chris shot both the pitchfork wielder as well as another villager that was coming for you in your weakened state. He watched as you pulled the pitchfork out of you and feebly tossed it aside, and he watched as your body betrayed itself and began to sink to the ground. 

Before you could reach it, Leon finally snapped out of it and nearly got impaled himself as he ran over to you. He heard the sound of Chris shooting the man who tried giving Leon the same fate as you as he caught your body and lowered both himself and you to the ground.  

Blood formed on three places on your shirt, and Leon pressed his whole hand and forearm down against them without thinking twice. Your cry of pain had him wincing as he looked over at your pale face, and he felt his heart rate spike as he saw the blood that began pooling in your mouth. “Hey,” he said quietly as Chris single-handedly took out the last four guys before he was crouching on the other side of you. “Keep your eyes open for me.”

You give him a pointed look, even in your current state, as you mumble, “I’m trying to,”

“I know,” he muttered as he looked over at Chris, panic poorly hidden on both their faces. “What do we do? We can’t leave her. We need to get her out of here, she needs-”

“I know, Leon,” Chris cut him off, and Leon was sure the brunet was surprised at how quickly Leon had lost all control the second you had gotten hurt. “You need to get her out of here. Find the surface as fast as you can, and don’t look back for anything.” 

Chris tried to take control of the situation as best as he could, but Leon was barely listening as he looked back down at you and saw your emotionless face staring back up at him. A ghost of a smile was on your lips, but he knew you were fading quickly. “Hey,” he called again, much stricter this time, but you just blinked slowly. “Stay with me, okay? You’re not dying today. Not here.”

“Leon,” Chris said, reaching over and grabbing his shoulder. “You need to focus. Get her out of here, I’ll take care of the rest, you both need to get out of here. Now.”

Leon barely nodded as he picked you up and wrapped his arms around your middle and under your thighs. You cry again, and Leon doesn’t look back at Chris as he takes off in the direction you all came from. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, refusing to stop as he ran through the tunnel and towards where he hoped the surface was. 

He knew he was abandoning the mission, even though he was advised to never do that. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t just leave you to die, he wouldn’t. 

“Leon,” you whispered, and it had him moving even faster. “It’s okay, I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.”

He knew you were going into shock, and he refused to see you reach the stage that came after that as he kicked open the gate and fled from the tunnels. “You’re okay,” he rasped as he ran through the small town and towards the Jeep. “You’re okay, baby.”

The name slipped out before he could stop it, but he didn’t care at this point, and neither did you as you smiled up at him. “I’ve always wanted to hear you call me that,” you confessed in a tired voice as he finally reached the car. “You’re my favorite person, Leon. I..”

Leon looked down and saw that your eyes were closed now, and he cursed as he opened the back door and gently set you down on the seats. He climbed in with you as he grabbed Chris’ jacket and wrapped it around your wound. He tied it pretty harshly around your middle in hopes to stop the blood, then felt around on your neck for your pulse. 

When he found it, he felt how faint it was and it sent him into a further panic as he got out of the back and into the driver’s seat. He knew Chris would be fine, and he also knew he couldn’t wait for him as he started the car and drove away from the town.

He’d have to send someone back for Chris, and then take the hit for being the one to abandon the mission. 

But if it meant saving you, he didn’t give a fuck about the repercussions. 

Leon got you back to salvation, but wasn’t allowed to be in the room with you as the nurses and doctors ripped your shirt after tearing off Chris’ jacket to see how bad your wound was. 

He was left in the hall as they worked on you, his arms and shirt covered in your blood. The sight was one he never wanted to see, and he knew he should go wash it off, but instead he stayed right there. 

This wasn’t a typical hospital, there were no waiting rooms, so he leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the hall to your room, and stayed there for God knows how long until a doctor finally came out and told him hours later that they had managed to stop the internal bleeding. But you had lost a lot of blood, and he was wearing most of it. 

He still wasn’t allowed to see you as they moved on to test you for any viruses, and he knew how long that could take. So he caved and went home to shower and wash off the red that covered him. 

Then he was right back in that hall after he changed into clean clothing. It was nearing a full twenty four hours since he carried you out of those tunnels, and he was beginning to go crazy. 

He needed to see you, needed to see for himself that you were okay and alive. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you when he was just a few feet away. 

The night nurse went in to check on you and accidentally woke Leon up from his spot on the floor. His back was against the wall as he looked up at her, and she gave him a wary smile. “I’m sorry, Agent Kennedy. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologized and he just waved her off. “I have to go report on her status, but she’s fine for now and will most likely recover within a few days.”

Leon perked up at that. “She’s going to be okay?”

“Yes,” the nurse nodded, then saw the look on his face and added, “That doesn’t mean you can sneak in there while I’m gone. I mean it, Kennedy. Her test results haven’t come back yet, she could be contagious with something.”

Leon nodded and watched as the nurse walked off before he promptly stood up and quietly opened the door to your room. He knew you didn’t have any viruses, he was with you the whole time, and he would’ve gotten it, too. 

After slowly closing the door behind him, Leon turned to look at you. His heart fell at the blank expression on your face, and the way your eyes didn’t move behind your closed eyelids. 

He had only ever seen you asleep a couple of times, one being back in that hotel room, another being when you had fallen asleep in the backseat of the Jeep as you waited for Chris to arrive so you could go on the mission, and both times you appeared to be dreaming. Your eyes never stopped moving behind closed lids, so to see them be so still now made him feel anxious. 

Without being able to stop himself, he walked over to you and stood next to the bed, his left hand finding yours on top of the covers. “Hey,” he mumbled as he extended his leg and pulled a nearby chair towards the bed without ever taking his eyes off you. His fingers tangle with yours as he sits down, and your warm skin against his had his heart calming down just a bit.

He looked over at your pretty face, the dirt and grime you’d collected from the tunnels now gone, and what replaced it was a few cuts here and there. Leon still thought you looked beautiful, and he wished he had told you that before this. He should’ve done so many things before this, but he was a coward when it came to you. 

But he wouldn’t be after you wake up. 

He would tell you that he loved you and how he needed you in his life. Because, after all, 

“You’re my favorite person, too,”

The same nurse from last night had found him with his head next to your hip on the bed, his hand still locked with yours, and she softly scolded him as she escorted him back out of the room and told him that he’d get to see you in a few days from now, and that you’d be awake by then.

That, along with the physical proof that you were okay, was what he needed to be able to talk through how the rest of the mission went with Chris. The eldest Redfield had successfully gathered up all the needed samples for the virus, as well as took out a large portion of those already infected with it before he caught a ride out of there and came to check on you.

Leon couldn’t even be annoyed at that since it was because of Chris that he was able to get you the help you needed in time. 

With no further updates on both you and the case, Leon was left to return back to his sad and empty apartment with the files Chris gave him to read over. It helped keep his mind off you for a bit, and when he was about halfway through the paperwork, he stopped to answer the door when someone knocked on it.

He opened it slowly, then swung it open when he saw that it was you who was on the other side. You look a lot better than you did the last time he saw you, and your small smile had his knees feeling a bit weak as you gazed at one another. “Hi,” you say quietly and Leon had to blink a few times to make sure this was real, and that he hadn’t fallen asleep at the table with the case files. 

“Hi,” he said back once he confirmed that he was awake and aware, and your smile grew a bit. 

“I heard you were the one who risked the whole mission to get me help after I stupidly got stabbed with a pitchfork,” you murmur and Leon wanted to take you into his arms at how you were still able to find humor in the very situation that had him nearly losing his mind. “Then I laughed and said that Leon Kennedy wouldn’t risk a mission for anything and how nothing else was that important to him. And then I realized that wasn’t true after I remembered how you carried me out of those tunnels and stayed with me until you couldn’t anymore.”

Leon stayed silent as he confirmed your words with a single nod. 

“Why did you do that?” You ask as you wrap one arm around your middle, and Leon wanted to pull you into his apartment and sit you down so you weren’t straining your wounds. “Why would you risk that?”

“You should sit down, Y/n,” he suggested instead of answering your question, but you just shook your head. 

“Why did you risk it?” You ask again. “You saved my life, but I’m not worth that risk, Leon.”

Leon shook his head as he stepped towards you. “You are worth that risk,” he couldn’t keep the way your words offended him out of his voice, and you picked up on it as you stayed still and asked, 

“Why did you risk it?” 

He knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with anything other than an honest answer, and he wasn’t going to go back on his words and lie to you about how he felt. Seeing you with your eyes closed and your body covered in blood almost made him lose his mind, and he couldn’t continue to live without telling you just how much you meant to him. 

“Because I love you,” he answered as if it was the most simplest question he’d ever been asked, and he supposed it was. “And I couldn’t live with myself if you had died on that mission and I didn’t.”

Your mouth closes as you take in his words, and when you begin to blink away tears, he continues,

“I know you can protect yourself, and I know you’re not defenseless, but I still want to be the one who protects you,” he took your hand in his, similar to the way he did back in your hospital room. “I want to be the one to take the hit for you, or the stab for you, or the bullet. You really think you’re not worth the risk? I’d risk it all for you all over again in a heartbeat. Without a second thought, I’d do it again.”

You bite down on your lip as you lace your fingers with his and allow him to pull you into his apartment. He guides you over to the couch, but before he could gesture for you to sit, you push him down instead and drape your thighs over his. “You love me?” You asked in a quiet tone as you hesitantly placed your hand on his shoulder. 

Leon nodded, giving you full control over everything right now and keeping his hands at his sides.

You force away a smile as you shyly ask, “Will you say it again?” and Leon wasn’t used to having you act so nervous and hesitant around him. Usually you were so confident and collected, but right now you were allowing yourself to be vulnerable with him, and he loved you even more for it. 

He didn’t think he could deny you anything right now, so he nodded in response to your question. “I love you,” he said again, then added with a barely-there smirk, “Baby.”

You give him a pretty smile and lean in to press your forehead against his as you guide his arms up to gently wrap around your middle. “I’ve always wanted to hear you call me that,” you repeated your words from earlier in the week, and Leon hummed as the tip of his nose hit yours. 

“I know,” he rasped. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you that I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since the second I saw you.”

“Leon,” you murmur and gently run your fingers through his short hair. It still hadn’t fully grown out yet, but he didn’t mind it as you softly tug on the strands. “It doesn’t matter how long it took you. I would’ve waited forever, I think. Because I love you, too.”

He let out a sigh of relief he had no idea he was holding as he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. “I nearly lost it when I carried you out of those tunnels,” he confessed. “I thought I’d lost my chance to tell you how I felt, and how beautiful I think you are.”

The words sounded foreign to him as he didn’t have a whole lot of time to put towards a relationship due to his job, but that didn’t make them any less true. 

And you knew this as you caressed the side of his face and traced his various freckles with your thumb. “Maybe soon you’ll be able to show me how you feel, too,” you teased and pressed yourself closer to him. “Thank you for saving my life, Leon. And thank you for finally telling me the words I’ve been wanting to hear from you for over a year now. I never let myself believe that you could ever feel that way about me.”

Leon was careful with your stomach area as he ran his hands up your back and gently gripped the back of your neck. He kissed you deeply and felt his heart skip a beat at the quiet moan you released, and he knew it would be the best kiss he’s ever shared with someone. Because it was you.  “Believe it,” he mumbled. “Because I’ve been yours since day one.”