#he's grateful for all the opportunities he's been given ofc

[fbfh]

you know what I'm thinking about?? beck oliver. yeah the one from victorious first of all FUCK YOU dan schneider and I'm specifically thinking about this clip from the episode where they try to make a reality show about their high school 0:31

I really hate that beck is one of those characters like lucas friar and tristin dugray where we simply do not get more clarity on them as a person. one of the few times we get to see beck really open up and talk about WHY he's so passionate about acting and it's immediately cut off and overshadowed by how he looks. dare I say he has elle woods syndrome. "beck and jade are toxic" "beck should date cat" "beck and robbie fuck" yeah yeah you know what he REALLY NEEDS????? he needs someone that does not give a single fuck about how he looks. he needs someone who prioritizes HIM instead of his hair. yes he's pretty and he has nice hair but those are all sprinkles. he needs somone who cares about the rest of the cupcake, not just the decorations. I think the reason he thinks he likes angry girls who yell and fight with him all the time is because when he and jade fight she's yelling at him about anything other than his hair. he needs a break from constantly being objectified is my point. you know what would be great?? beck dating a screenwriter. someone who works on the scripts for the hollywood arts shows they put on. someone who hunts him down in the halls looking like they rolled out of a dumpster with sikowitz and reeks of coffee because they've been up for 36 hours to meet their deadline and finish their homework.

you are just that. you do other stuff at hollywood arts too, but there's really not a lot of script writers there, so you've found a way to pretty much corner the market and it looks FANTASTIC on your student transcript, plus you get extra credit for it, which is even better. you're wearing a hoodie that looks like you slept in it for two days (true if you had slept at all) and you're not aware of the two or three empty jet brew cups shoved into your hoodie pocket, plus the extra one you're carrying that you're almost done with.

"Beck!"

you manage to startle him a little which is surprising because he is totally unscareable. he doesn't think you've ever exchanged two words before now, he doesn't even know if he knows your name.

"I need to talk to you," you pant, a little delerious from caffeine and sleep depravation and excitement. "I finished the script for the next play-"

Beck didn't realize that a student was writing any of the shows they put on, he thought they were all lisenced or from local writers.

"It's a dystopian retelling of frankenstein with- with cyberpunk influences," you ramble, "and I need to know if you're okay playing the lead." you pant, still trying to catch your breath and not lose your train of thought.

"some pretty fucked up stuff happens and you'd have to quickly lose your morals and go from morally gray to kind of antagonistic pretty quickly..." you look up at him and hand him a script full of sticky flags. "I wanna make sure there's nothing that'll make you too uncomfortable... like I said it gets pretty fucked up, but I wrote it with you in mind for the doctor, so- just, let me know what you think."

before he can answer, you trudge into the janitor's closet and fall asleep on top of a pile of paper towels.

Beck takes the script home to look over, and he's genuinely surprised for a number of reasons. he expected to be typecast as the love interest yet again, but you want him as the antagonistic lead. it's a really complex role, and has absolutley nothing to do with how he looks. you even left a sticky note in there by accident, and he reads your scribbled handwriting. doc MUST be smwn who fully commits and dgaf if it makes them look bad or silly or unattractive. if they get self consious it ruins the char

underneith are two or three names scribbled out, then his, underlined several times. he is so genuinely shocked by this decision, and absolutely fascenated by your script. he's actually getting really excited to play a role that will challenge him for once.

the next day he meets you with the script tucked under one arm and a coffee in each hand. he hands one to you, and you thank him with a pleasantly surprised smile.

"You seem like you could use it."

"That's putting it mildly..." you mutter in agreement, and he bites back a chuckle when you remove the lid and down half the cup at once. You look at him anxiously after that, and your eyes flit between him and your script. "So... what did you think?"

"I... accept." relief floods through you. "I've already been thinking about my character and going over my lines. But why did you want me for Victor?"

You shrug a little.

"Well, you got the script like, 12 hours ago and you're already developing your portrayal of him, so that's a pretty good reason there," you chuckle, "and I... I hope this doesn't sound mean, but I don't think there are a lot of other people here who could pull off such a complex antagonistic main character."

you state, taking another sip of coffee.

"Everyone here is great, really-" you emphasize, hoping you don't sound like a dick. "I just feel like no one else could really bring the depth to him that you could. He's a horrible person, but I still want the audience to sympathize with him at times, and go wow he's a fucked up asshole at others without making it feel disjointed. I think you're really the only one who has the skills to pull that off."

honestly, if Beck had slightly less self control he would have started wailing and sobbing right then. Instead, he's determined to live up to your expectations and prove to you that your faith in him will pay off. You work pretty closley with production of the show, and with Beck. after closing night, you and Beck are still pretty close, to your pleasant surprise. his friends are a little curious why Beck suddenly is spending all his free time with one of those kids in their class who never talks or says anything, but he seems... happy. he did in fact fall first, and he definitely fell harder. he falls even more when months pass and he realizes you are still too adorably oblivious to realize how he feels.

[loviingpedri]

tripling the fun -jude and jobe bellingham

prompt: three best friends take over the house by babysitting the bellingham boys’ two nephews and niece.

pt.2 here

bellinghams & fem!reader platonic friendship

warnings: grammar issues, all characters are fictional (except jude and jobe ofc)

click to help palestine

credits to owners for all images

knocking on the door, anticipation grew.

you have grown up with jude and jobe, considering your parents and their parents were very close friends.

you practically were like their sister. you did everything with them. you were there at their biggest accomplishments or lowest levels.

the door opened to jude and jobe’s aunt, ready for dinner. recently, the bellingham boys recently had a new addition to their family, a little baby nephew. the parents had 3 kids, and one still being about 6 months old, it was a major hassle. they needed a little break, some time for themselves.

who else better to call? the famous trio!

the parents trusted you and the brothers very much. trust me, the babies were in good hands. (might be delusional, but we’ll see!)

“oh my goodness, thank you guys for coming.” the mom hugged all of you. giving you a little peek on the cheek.

suddenly, jude and jobe’s uncle appeared behind her. “you’re here! thank you guys. come in.” stepping into the house, you were met with cold air.

“i see the kids really love this house.” you spoke with a smile as you noticed toys were scattered around the floor. ending your sentence, jobe nearly tripped over a toy truck.

catching himself as you were frightened for him, the three of you burst into a laughter.

“okay mate, it’s not that funny.” jobe said while pushing the truck away from his path.

“jobe, how do you not see a bright yellow and green truck?” jude was dying from laughter.

“i’m really grateful that you took this opportunity. it has been quite awhile since my husband and i have gone out.”

suddenly, a huge commotion was made. all eyes going to the stairway, you could see a little boy about the age of 6 running down the stairs in a little dinosaur onesie.

“there’s my little guy!” the boy ran into jude’s arms into a tight hug.

“i knew it! i knew you were coming! i heard your voice.”

“did you really?” jude fixed his onesie and gave him a little pat on the back.

then, you heard a door slam. staring at the stairs once again, you could see a 4 year old girl in a pink princess dress with a tiara and wand, strutting down with a bright smile (and one missing tooth).

“all hail the princess.” jobe spoke as she slowly walked down with her head held up high. smiles appeared on everyone’s faces, except her brother’s. she only earned an eye roll from him.

finally reaching downstairs, you curtsied to her as jude and jobe did a little bow.

breaking character, she did not hesitate to run to jobe. giving him the biggest hug he has probably ever been given.

“i think the baby is still asleep. the formula is already prepped since he should be waking up soon. we have to get going, good luck guys!” quickly grabbing her purse and getting the hell out of there with her husband, it was time to finally have some fun and bonding times.

“alright kiddos, what should we do today?” jude put down his nephew and immediately patting his head for reassurance.

“we should build a castle!” jobe, also putting down the niece, agreed.

“what kind of castle?”

“castles are for losers!” her big brother snarled at her.

“now, dinosaurs may be big and strong, but they are certainly not rude.” you bent down to his level. he crossed his arms, but unexpectedly, you started tickling him.

“tickle attack!” jude yelled as everyone was tickling the dinosaur and princess.

all laughter came to a quick stop. cries of a baby were echoing throughout the house. jude and jobe were no professionals for caring for a child under 1, therefore both synchronized to look at you for help.

and to be honest, you wanted to hold that baby forever. your motherly instincts kicked in. running up the stairs, you could not wait. meeting the little guy at just 2 months old, he was probably the most adorable baby you’ve ever seen (maybe because he looks a little like baby jude, but we’re gonna ignore that fact).

slowly and gently opening the door, you were met with a baby with a small tear falling down his cheek, but having the brightest smile as soon as he saw you. your heart melted.

“aren’t you the cutest,” you picked him up and could see his chubby face and rolls on his arms. “the baby fever is really kicking in.”

wiping the little tear, you placed his head on your shoulder as you walked down the stairs. putting your hand on his semi-bald head to create a shield just in case, jude and jobe lit up to seeing him.

crowding the little one, jude took him into his arms as you prepared the milk. in the kitchen, you were met with a little princess eating a sugar cookie (jobe couldn’t say no to her).

“hello your royal highness.” you gave a smile to her as you grabbed a little bottle.

“hi y/n. how’s it going?”

“it’s going great! how’s your cookie?”

“it’s good. you should be a mom.”

the statement created a pause for you. the measuring cup filled with formula almost fell on the counter.

“sorry ma’am, but what?”

“you should be a mom.”

“oh no thank you, it is definitely not for me.”

“well you definitely need a boyfriend. i have one! his name is james, he’s 6. i like them older.”

“hold on, you’re talking about your brother’s friend?”

“yep! that james. he’s so dashing. you know you should get with jude.” a frown appeared on your face. kids are full of creative ideas, but this was not on your bingo card.

“i really appreciate your feedback, but i need time to review this information.” jude suddenly appeared in the kitchen, giving you a scare.

“what are y’all talking about?”

in panic, you shouted “nothing!” which created high suspicion. the princess got off the chair after finishing the cookie, and walking off with jude.

finishing on making the bottle, you weren’t sure on what you were about to see, but it was definitely a sight.

jude and jobe bellingham were in pink and purple tutu’s and tiaras. you gasped at the sight.

“y/n, please don’t laugh.” jobe pleaded, sensing his embarrassment already.

“who said i was gonna laugh?” you picked up the baby trying to hide the fact, you were gonna laugh. sitting on the couch to feed him, the boys were being ordered around.

“alright, what’s next to protect the precious princess?”

“it is i! the knight! and i have come to destroy this kingdom!” the once dinosaur jumped out from the hallway holding a fake sword and shield.

the princess let out a tiny scream.

“uncle jude! protect the castle now!” jude nodded in agreement as he picked up a fake sword and play fighting with the knight. tutu’s were dropping and tiaras were falling.

“meanwhile you, uncle jobe, you should totally dance with me.” hiding your smile with the bottle, jobe didn’t really have a choice.

the house was chaotic. a ballerina and knight were battling it out, jobe and the princess were turning and spinning. jobe even had a little purple magic wand as his prop for his dance recital. you were glad you could lay back with a baby who did not give any trouble.

the fun continued to grow as the night went.

[redr0sewrites]

Could you please do fluffy Lucifer head cannons! (I love your Hazbin hotel hcs💗)

🥀A/n: YESSSS OFC!! i love luciii hes so cute

🥀Cw: none, just fluff!!!

lucifer is a very touchy person in general, and when it comes to his partner, he just ADORES giving and receiving affection from you. he always wants to be touching you in one way or another, but he always makes sure to ask beforehand.

he rubs your thumb when you both hold hands!!!! he also seems like the type to gently swing his arm when you both are holding hands and walking side by side, he's just giddy about getting to spend time with you!!!

lucifer loves showing you off. he's definitely bringing you to every event that he attends, and is proudly stating that you're his partner at any given opportunity

MATCHING COUPLES ITEMS!!!! ive said it before and i'll say it again, lucifer is the type to ADORE matching couples outfits, jewelry, mugs, literally anything! u guys have SOOO much matching stuff simply because he adores it

loves sitting in your lap. there is no place in the world more comfortable for lucifer than in your arms, and he just loves being able to cuddle with you in your lap. he MELTS whenever you touch his hair, and is overall very touchy

if your taller than him, he ADORES hugs from behind!!! he loves when you rest your chin atop his head, and won't even mind some light teasing about his height.

loves tickles!!!! sometimes he'll wake you up with tickles or kisses across your face, just so he can hear your laughter

lucifer can't fall asleep without touching you in some way! if you aren't a very cuddly person while you sleep, that's ok, but he still asks to link pinkies while sleeping just so he knows you're there. if you are a fan of cuddles, prepare to be clung to!!

he would adore it if you got along with charlie, and definitely persists at trying to get you two to hangout. he loves the idea of the three of you being a family and doing family things together, and charlie is just happy to finally see him happy, so she's very grateful towards you

lucifer is a RAMBLER, he loves talking about his special interests and cares a lot if you listen to him and act interested too! you definitely learn a lot of duck facts from him, along with anything else that's interesting that he's picked up over the years

FLIRTY!!!!!!! he's sooooo cheesy, and definitely uses the cringiest pickup lines. sometimes he does it to be funny, and sometimes he does it to be serious. he also has a BUNCH of nicknames and petnames for you, and some are satire while others are more genuine

to name a few of the satire one, he'd probably say duckie, pookie, and prince/princess (ironically tho). unironically i think he'd call you dear or "my dearest", darling, and honey as well. he isn't afraid to call you pet names in public, he honestly refers to you more as "dear" than your actual name! i also think lucifer would make up nicknames based on your name specifically. you could have a 3 letter name and he'd still somehow shorten it. definitely gives you nicknames related to your name, say for example your name is rose, he's absolutely the type to call you "rosie posie" instead of just rose

writes you little notes throughout the day and sends them to you magically :) he also buys you practically anything you want, he is rich after all

overall he's very affectionate, and he could never pick a love language when it comes to giving. he just has so much love to give, and he makes sure you're spoiled with affection!!!!!!!!

ack sorry this is so short i promise im still trying 😭 school and family *cough* mom *cough* stuff has been lowkey kicking my ass but ive been SO motivated to write it's actually insane so im trying to power through my 100+ hazbin hotel requests even though ive lowkey moved on- i still enjoy the fandom, but i just need a break yk? ANYWAYS!!!! FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS, ESPECIALLYYYYYY ARCANE, TDP, OR ACOTAR REQUESTS!!!!!

[the-hinky-panda]

The Winter Series: Part I

Title: The Winter Series

Pairing: Aramis x OFC (written as a reader)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Aramis is making good on his promise to God to become a monk. At least he's trying to make good on that promise. But you burst on the scene, a French spy from across the border of Spain with all sorts of temptations to lead him astray.

Taglist: @bullet-prooflove @kmc1989, @trublu2u, @nsr-15

It’s been two months since Aramis has arrived at the monastery and he’s beginning to think that this is a monumental mistake. The first month he threw himself into this new life. First one to prayers, helping in the kitchens, studying scriptures outside and enjoying the birdsong, tending the small garden. He felt at peace, confident in his decision to be here. 

That feeling doesn’t last as he enters into the second month. The birds are grating on his nerves. The fresh air is irritating to his nose. The prayers are repetitive and his mind wanders more and more. To the war, to his friends…to the Queen, to his son. He longs for the feel of his sword in his hand, the smooth grip of his pistol, the excitement of the fight. At least he had felt useful as a Musketeer, actively righting the world’s wrongs instead of just praying for things to change. 

That is why when the Abbot asked for someone to pick up supplies from the town below the monastery, Aramis was the first one to volunteer. It wasn’t exciting at all, just a collection of vegetables, eggs, and grain but it gave him an opportunity to see the bustling life of the common man. The village wasn’t far from a port town close to the Spanish border. The marketplace was better supplied than most given that proximity to a port, so it was always fascinating to see the handmade trinkets or foods that would never make it up to Paris. 

“Stop her!” 

Every instinct as a trained soldier flares to life at the shout that echoes across the marketplace. Aramis sees the culprit fleeing, ducking around vendors, before making a sprint to an old stone church. Three men follow close at your heels and Aramis joins in the chase before he remembers this isn’t his business any more. But that hesitation only lasts a moment before he makes his way to the back door of the church. Where else is he going to find a bit of excitement? Certainly not back at the monastery delivering food. Besides, you could be in need of help and what kind of monk would that make him if he didn’t offer help to those in need? 

When he comes through the back door, he sees four men now, armed with pistols and swords. They’re dressed in plain clothes, Spanish clothes, but their movements are most certainly that of soldiers. He stays hidden behind the table of candles, half of which are lit when he sees the confessional box on the other side of the sanctuary. A confessional that has a tip of a cloak peeking out from under the curtain. 

The door opens and two more men come in and start conversing in Spanish at the back. He catches phrases, I saw her come in here, Not too many places to hide, Confessional…

Aramis goes around the back of the dias and is able to reach the priest’s side of the confessional. So far, he can’t see any priest on that side of the box and there’s no whispered conversations happening. He takes the opportunity and slips into the confessional, quietly closing the door behind him. He hears a sharp intake of breath from the other side but there are no other sounds. You must be sitting as still as death to warrant not so much as a creak from the old wood bench. With a deep breath, he pulls back the slider that reveals the latticed window into your side of the box. 

“Your cloak is peeking out from under the curtain.” 

He hears the soft rustle of fabric as you pull it into the confessional. “Thank you. Uh, forgive me Father for I have sinned-” 

“I’m sure you have but that’s not why I’m here.” He can’t see much of your features but he can see your eyes, wide with surprise and a color caught between blue and gray. 

“You’re not a priest?” 

How to answer that question. “I’m afraid that’s a bit complicated at the moment but I can assure you that I’m not the one to give you absolution for your sins. There are six men, Spanish from the looks of it, out in the vestibule. Why are they here?” 

“You’re a soldier.” 

“In another lifetime. But I can still help you.” 

You take half a heartbeat to answer. “Do you know the innkeeper here, Jean Luc Moreau?” 

“I’m fairly new, I don’t know anyone yet.” 

“I was supposed to meet him but when I went by the inn, it was filled with Spanish,” you pause, “visitors.” 

“Soldiers.” You don’t say anything and that silence tells Aramis everything he needs to know. “You’re a French spy.” 

“I just need to wait for them to leave so I can deliver the letters to Moreau. He has someone who’s going to take them back to Paris but they’re not arriving until tomorrow afternoon.” 

“So we have some time to hide you.” Aramis starts planning an escape route but the sound of the Spanish soldiers outside the confessional interrupt him. “Stay in here, no matter what.” 

He steps out of the confessional and greets the soldiers that are circling the confessional. “Greetings, gentlemen. I’m afraid I’m the only Priest available at the moment, so if you would please just take a seat, we will be done momentarily.” 

“We’re not here for forgiveness,” the largest of the group says in heavily accented French. “We’re looking for a runaway.” 

“Ah, I’m afraid we haven’t had any children arrive-” 

“Not a child,” another man says, tall and blade thin. “A woman. Her father is in high standing, she was betrothed to a nobleman. We fear she may have gotten nervous about the marriage.” 

Aramis lays a hand over his heart. “I shouldn’t reveal anything about a parishioner’s confession, but I can assure you the lady currently in there is already married. And not much of a lady.” 

“We would like to wait to make sure it is not our master’s daughter, if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course,” Aramis bows respectfully. There’s little he can do facing down six Spanish soldiers with no weapons other than his hands. He’ll have to rely on his brain then and hopefully some luck. As he goes back around to the priest’s entrance of the confessional, he runs into one of the priests. He immediately puts a finger to his mouth and the priest’s surprise turns quickly to understanding. Aramis tells him quickly about your plight and the need to get you to safety. He nods, telling Aramis to stay there safely out of sight of the six men who are now sitting in the pews. When he returns, he has a set of nun’s robes and he unlatches a false door that opens the confessor’s side of the box. 

It’s the first clear sight Aramis has had of you. You’re dressed in simple clothing, no jewelry. Your dark hair is braided and coiled at the base of your neck and your eyes, still that odd coloration, are even larger without the lattice barrier between you two. You’re scared, but your mouth is pressed in a firm line. It’s not your first tight spot, Aramis bets, but it’s definitely an alarming one nonetheless. The priest hands you the nun’s clothes. 

“Dress in these and leave your clothes in the confessional,” he whispers to you. “I’ll have one of the sisters wear your clothes out of here.” 

“You have a way for us to exit?” Aramis asks. 

“Yes,” the priest answers. “Take her up to the monastery with you. Dressed as one of our sisters, no one will say anything.” 

“Thank you, Father,” you say as you take the robes. 

Aramis touches the Priest’s arm. “Yes, thank you.” 

He closes the door so you can change privately. “Mademoiselle Sartre is a friend to our parish and this town. See that she remains safe.” 

“I will.” 

The hidden door opens again and you appear now in the simple nun robes. The priest points to the side hallway and Aramis pulls his hood up over his head. The two of you hurry through the side hallway and open the back door to the church, bringing you directly into the graveyard. Aramis lightly touches your elbow. 

“Keep your head down, leave the watchfulness to me.” 

“Alright.” 

Thankfully the food order had already been acquired so making their way back to the horse and wagon is a quick and efficient process. He helps you up into the front seat before climbing up himself. 

“Take a pass by the inn on the way out of town.”  

He nods and turns the horse in that direction. The innkeeper, Moreau, is standing outside the door feigning interest in the shoppers passing by. When his eyes land on the cart, you lay a hand on your heart. He responds similarly. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No, keep going.” You turn your eyes forward again and Moreau goes back inside the tavern. “He knows I’ll return tomorrow. Besides, I don’t want to put him in danger of having the documents with the Spanish soldiers still around.” 

“Understandable. I’ll return with you tomorrow just in case our Spanish friends are still in town.” 

“That’s not necessary. I don’t want to put you in any more danger than I already have.” 

“I do have to say,” Aramis gives the town one last glance over his shoulder to make sure no one is following them, “today was a nice jolt of excitement.” 

You give him a smile, albeit a slight one. “You are the strangest monk I’ve ever come across.” 

“You will find no argument from me.” 

[kenjakusbraincum]

heyo :) anon who requested sick!reader here

the work was absolutely painful (💀) but that's okay, that's what I wanted anyway, and you're absolutely amazing, already said that in a previously sent message, but gurl I couldn't tell you how much I actually like the reader dying trope, and how I kind of had that in the back of my mind while requesting but didn't say it, so thank you for that once again AND ALSO I've been reading all those requests you're getting for a follow up fic where reader is reincarnated and sukuna finds them but ykw ikindofreallywantreadertostaydead 🥺👉👈 (it feels so stupid for wanting something other ppl don't want 😭💀) like how do I explain it- I just kind of hoped for sukuna to live with that grief yk, of not having shown her enough love and then losing her..idk maybe it's just me, but I really don't want her coming back

BUT ALSO this is your work and hence completely your choice, you've given birth to the character, ofc it's up to you what you do with it lol, I'll read it anyway 😭 I really love your works lmao

and also, pls don't shut up and no you didn't go overboard with it, it was just ✨perfect✨

Ahhhh anon I'm so grateful for the opportunity to write that request and unleash my evil angsty side for once 😌💅 I'm glad you enjoyed it!!

And I totally get where you're coming from with wanting reader to stay dead!! As I mentioned in one of the previous asks, I LOVED making Sukuna suffer 😭 Just him regreting every single time he was disgusting towards reader since the start of their little thing. Him wishing he could redo everything again, wishing he wasn't so brutal because he never had to be brutal at all, reader would've loved him either way. Reader ofc wouldn't even hold it against him but he does, he can't forgive himself.. and then he goes back to being a monster, because there's nothing left for him to be human for. I love the idea of being so special to him, being singlehandedly both the reason he became human (in a metaphorical sense) and the reason he went back to his old ways.

But the reincarnation scenario lures me for two reasons, one is how much there is to explore within the idea. Like how do they meet? Who recognizes who? Does reader remember him instantly or does it take time? How does Sukuna go about retrieving them, does he just snatch and steal and take like he always does, or does he try it differently? And how does reader react to all this, what if they reject him in this lifetime? DOES SUKUNA HAVE ENOUGH RIZZ TO GET READER TO STAY WHEN HE'S NOT FORCING THEM??? Lorddd my brain is going places and I love a prompt that gets me thinking.

And the main reason: I really badly want an excuse to write Sukuna being uncharacteristically nice from the start. I always feel an obligation to do him at least a bit of justice by making him cold in the beginning, but reincarnated reader gives me an excuse to make him gentle, esp with nsfw stuff 🥺 And everyone knows I'm a sucker for gentle Sukuna...

BUT anyways, even if you don't like this idea pls feel free to pretend part 2 never happens and is a totally separate little scenario!! Nothing is official canon in this little universe of my works and ppl are free to pick and choose which fics are canon and which aren't in their interpretations ✨

[sheerfreesia007]

Webhead Chronicles #23

Title: Webhead Chronicles #23

Fandom: The Amazing Spiderman

Pairing: Tasm!Peter Parker x OFC!

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Words: 3,137

Warnings: Violence, implied sexual assault, injury

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Author Notes: This was really cathartic to write out. Not sure why but I enjoyed writing it.

Gif Credit: @groove-mp3

It’s late at night when Ev finally gets out of work for the day. She had started working at a mechanic shop about a twenty minute walk from her house about a month ago when her mother had threatened to beat the crap out of her for clearing away her beer bottles too early one night. Ev had talked to her Dad on the phone telling him that living with her Mom was becoming too much for her and she wanted to stay with him. He had been reluctant because he was living in a studio apartment on Staten Island and she would have to change schools. He didn’t want to completely upset her life but he knew he had to do something about her mother's threatening behavior. So he had managed to get her a job with his old highschool friend who owned a few mechanic shops in Queens and Brooklyn.

Her Dad knew that this wouldn’t completely solve the problem of her Mom but it would get her out of the house and away from her Mom for the time being. He was making moves with his job to be able to move back to Queens and would be able to get a place to share with Ev but it was slowly coming together much to his displeasure. And her mom had been kicking up a fuss whenever Ev would spend time away from the house at Aunt May’s. So he couldn’t tell her to sleepover at Aunt May’s for long otherwise her mom would cause problems for Aunt May.

So Ev had started working part time at the mechanic shop twenty minutes from the house, she was currently the front desk personnel and kept track of the computer system as well as all the paperwork for every car that the shop worked on. She wasn’t truly happy since she’d rather be under a hood working on the cars but with her arm still in a cast for at least three more weeks she was stuck working the front desk. When Ev thought about it she was grateful for the opportunity to start working and giving a legitimate reason to be away from her mom. Plus the money she made from her job she was able to spend and save how she wanted, it was giving her more independence in life.

Tonight she had stayed a little later to finish storing and filing all of the old paperwork for the shop from years prior. It was a large task and Gregg the owner had given her a set of keys to lock up the shop when she was ready to leave, he had told her that after the first week of her working he trusted her completely with his shop and hoped to offer her a mechanic position when her cast came off. So as she gathered her bag and laptop that she had been using to help keep track of the filing system for the shop she grabbed her keys and cellphone before pressing number 2 on her contacts speed dial.

“Hey Ev!” Peter answered, sounding breathless and she grinned while rolling her eyes. “Are you finally leaving the shop now?” he asked, definitely sounding out a breath now.

“Are you swinging right now? Or fighting?” Ev asked curiously as she shook her head at his antics.

“Just swinging, I webbed another car jacker to the 10th precinct building for the po-po to handle and I just got done breaking up a drunk and disorderly fight over by a bar called The Alibi. Funny right?! That’s a really clever name for a bar don’t ya think?”” Peter began to ramble on to her making her chuckle softly that this had become so second nature to him now.

“Pete, don’t talk and swing. Yes I’m leaving now I’ll see ya on my way home.” she scolded him softly before hanging up. She didn’t hear his concerned protest as she hung up her cellphone and opened up the shop door. Quickly turning she stuck her key in the door and locked it before dropping the keys in her backpack. Swinging it over her shoulder she began walking down the sidewalk taking her normal route home that she had been taking since she started working at the shop. 

When Peter had found out that she got a part time job and worked after school he had begun showing up on her walks home as Spiderman to make sure she got home safely. The two of them fell into an easy routine of walking home together, Ev would usually get off work earlier than Peter got done patrolling and he would wind up meeting her on her route home.

Now as Ev began her walk home she quietly surveyed her surroundings, Peter had been drilling into her head that she had to stay alert while walking home because there were people around her job who weren’t the most savory type of people. Plus he always got nervous when she walked by herself, Ev liked to think of it as payback for always making her worry about him when he went on patrols.

But normally it was a quiet ten minute walk before Peter showed up as Spiderman to continue walking her home. Unfortunately tonight seemed to be the exact opposite of normal for her. 

Ev noticed the heavy set guy across the street as she reached Mrs. Chang’s bodega at the corner near her job. He had been leaning up against the corner lightpost diagonally from Ev as she greeted Mrs. Chang who was out sweeping in front of her entrance. The man had perked up when he heard Ev and Mrs. Chang talking together and began watching Ev closely. 

“You get home safe now!” Mrs. Chang said happily as a customer stood at her register and she moved to quickly help them. Ev took notice of the man watching her closely and then crossing the street to get onto the same side as her as she continued walking on. Slipping her hand in her jacket pocket Ev kept tense as her fingers closed around the can of mace that her Dad had gotten for her when she got the job. He knew that the area around her job wasn’t that bad but he’d rather her be careful especially with her arm still in a cast.

Just as Ev was passing a dark alleyway she felt the air change and knew almost like a premonition that the man was going to grab her. She felt him get a hold of her backpack and yank her into the alleyway, slamming her against the brick wall. Gasping harshly as her back slammed hard into the brick wall Ev ducked instinctively as the man moved to corner her against the wall and she pulled out the mace can. She aimed it straight at his face as he turned to grab onto her again before spraying him in the face. 

Ev knew that she would be affected by the mace as well because she was in close quarters with the man and the mace but she knew that she had some time before it would completely incapacitate her. What she hadn’t been expecting was the man wildly swinging his arms at her as he yelled in pain from the mace. 

The man turned in a circle yelling as his hands came up to his eyes effectively spreading the mace further along his face causing him more pain. Ev moved away from him as quickly as she could but she wasn’t quick enough, the man grabbed onto her backpack and yanked her back towards him making her yelp in surprise as she fell to the ground.

“You stupid bitch!” The man roared angrily as he stood over her hunched over from the pain before he threw a punch straight into her stomach making her cry out in pain. “Couldn’t just be a good little girl could you?! I would’ve made it painless for you but now you’re gonna feel everything I give you.” He yelled at her in pure rage as he swung his clenched fists down at her body. He managed to get one hit to her left eye which made stars burst in her vision before she defensively covered herself while he continued to wail away blindly on her.

Ev tried to turn and move away from the man as she screamed for help. Her arms were raised up around her head as she hunched over on the ground not letting him get a good hit on her again. She even kicked her feet out at his ankles and managed to knock him backwards on his ass before he roared angrily once more.

Ev quickly jumped to her feet and tried to dodge the man as he advanced on her breathing heavily. Ev could feel her face on the left side starting to swell from his punch earlier and her lip was split at the corner as blood trickled into her mouth causing her to taste copper on her tongue. Pain radiated throughout her body but she knew how to defend herself and wouldn’t allow this lowlife to take her down.

“C’mere you little bitch!” He snapped angrily at her as he lunged for her. Ev dodged his arms but he tripped her making her fall to the ground once more where he fell on top of her. She screamed loudly hoping to catch someone’s attention as she felt the man start to grope her through her large sweatshirt as he huffed and puffed behind her. Ev could see a shadow moving towards the entrance of the alleyway and she screamed to catch the person’s attention as she tried to get out from under the man.

“Hey!” The person shouted and the man paused to see who it was. Ev used the distraction to throw her elbow back harshly into the man’s face hearing a sickening crunch and the man began screaming in pain. She quickly moved from her position once she felt his weight release on her back and she ran towards the person at the entrance of the alleyway. Protective arms wrapped around her and Ev tried to jerk away from them but she spotted the red and blue spandex suit through her swelling eyelid. Tears began to fill her eyes in relief as she recognized Peter. “I got you, relax. I got you.” He said soothingly as he hugged her tightly to him as she sobbed loudly.

There was movement behind her and Ev cowered away in fear as Peter guided her back behind him as he faced her attacker. Ev gently touched the long black legs on the spider on his back as she kept hidden behind him. She quietly focused on the emblem on his to try and calm herself down as her fingers traced it with quick strokes.

“Fuck off man! She’s mine!” Snapped the man angrily and Ev felt Peter tense under her fingers. Peter didn’t respond to the man and Ev heard the guy shuffled closer to the two of them. “You can’t protect her.” Sneered the man as he stepped closer to the two of them.

“Like hell I can’t.” Peter snapped and he lunged forward pummeling the man into the brick wall at the side. Ev gasped softly as her eyes widened while she watched Peter continuously punch her attacker. He was grunting and panting as his fists flew into the man at lightning speeds and all Ev could do was watch in shock.

She’d never seen Peter this angry or violent. He was always the peacekeeper in their relationship, always the one trying to stop the bullying or fights that happened at school. Ev was the one who was more violent or would use ways to subdue someone. This was such a shock that it froze her as she watched the man become unconscious after a harsh punch from Peter’s fist. It was that sight that broke her out of her shock though and she rushed over to Peter grabbing onto his arm that he had cocked back to let fly another punch.

“Spider-Man!” She cried out harshly as she tried to restrain his arm. His head whipped over to her as he panted underneath the suit. The two of them were quiet as they stared at each other, Ev’s eyes wide with the remnants of her shock. Peter lowered his arm slowly and turned towards her as she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. She felt his arms wrap around her back before his hands slowly slid up to cup the sides of her face.

“Oh Ev.” He lamented softly as he gently tilted her face from side to side to see the extent of her injuries.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch but I’m okay. You saved me.” She reassured him hurriedly as tears fell from her eyes. The adrenaline from the fight with the guy was starting to wear off and Ev felt as if her body weighed a thousand pounds.

“C’mon we gotta get you home and cleaned up. Let me just web this guy to the alleyway, the cops will be doing their patrol in a few hours. They’ll find him then.” Peter said soothingly as he turned to the man and grabbed his legs to drag him out towards the entrance of the alleyway. Ev followed slowly watching as the man was dragged along the dirty ground of the alleyway feeling a sense of satisfaction that he’d be the dirtiest guy in lockup tonight.

When Peter finished webbing the man to the brick wall by the hand he turned to Ev and began guiding her down the sidewalk. The two of them were silent as they walked and Ev was thankful that he didn’t suggest he swing them home. She didn’t think she could handle facing her fear of heights right now on top of everything else that happened tonight.

When they finally got back to her house Ev walked in through the front while Peter climbed up the side of the house where her window was. He was already there waiting for her with the first aid kit and her lights were all on. His mask was also off and he was watching her with careful quiet eyes. He patted the side of the bed nearest the window and right next to her bedside lamp.

Ev dropped her backpack to the floor by her door before she slipped her shoes off and walked over to him before sitting down heavily. Peter grabbed her desk chair and pulled it over to sit right in front of her as his eyes danced all around her face silently.

“I need to make sure that you don’t have anything broken or any major cuts on you. Can you tell me where he hit you?” Peter said softly and sounded as if he was going to start crying. Numbly Ev began to raise her hoodie and Peter instantly reached out to help her remove it. He watched with worried eyes as she lifted her AC/DC band t-shirt to show him her stomach where there was a large bruise starting to form. He sucked in a harsh breath and gently grazed his fingers along the bruise making her flinch. “Sorry, sorry. It looks like it’s just going to bruise and be sore for a few days. Is there anywhere else he hit you?”

Ev shook her head silently as tears began to fall from her eyes now as she gestured at her face. Peter’s eyebrows crumpled on his forehead as he frowned sorrowfully at her. He nodded his head and began cleaning her split lip and titling her head from side to side to check for any other injuries. When he was done he stood and gathered a pair of pjs for her before giving her space while he returned the first aid kit to the bathroom.

Ev slowly changed into her pjs before climbing into her bed and bundling herself up in her blankets as she sat with her back against the headboard. Peter came back into her room dressed in a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt and gray sweatpants. He moved to the side of the bed and climbed in next to her as his arms wrapped around blanket covered body. He turned on her tv and the two of them sat there together in silence as a rerun played on the screen.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you got out of work. I’ll make sure that I finish up early enough to meet you at the door from now on.” He said softly to her and Ev peeked up at him as he stared at the tv.

“Pete, I left my job that’s not on you.” She reassured him softly and he shook his head adamantly. When he turned his head to stare at her Ev gasped softly at the resolute look that clouded his eyes.

“I’m supposed to protect you. And you were attacked on my watch. I’m so sorry Ev.” He said softly as he stared into her eyes. “I thought the absolute worst when I heard you screaming. I was about ten blocks away when I heard you scream and I swear I’ve never swung as fast as I did tonight. I was terrified that I was going to swing up to your murder.” He confessed softly as he buried his face in her hair. He sucked in harsh breaths as he tried to calm himself down as he held her in his arms. “I thought the absolute worst was happening. I kinda went crazy when I saw him on top of you.”

“Yeah it was a little shocking seeing you like that but I totally understand. I’d be the same way if it was you getting beat up.” Ev reassured him as she leaned her head against his gently. “But I’m okay. I promise. I’m just gonna need to look up how to put on concealer for my eye.”

“I can totally help with that.” Peter said quickly and Ev looked at him skeptically as he laughed softly. “Remember when I would help out the theater club when you would do your engineer meetups after school?” He asked gently and Ev chuckled softly before groaning softly in pain as her split lip throbbed. “They made me help the makeup artists with the costume makeup. I can totally blend the right shade on your eye.” He said confidently as he gazed down at her making sure that she was okay before cuddling her close and resting his head on top of hers as they both zoned out to the rerun before falling asleep.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Sure Thing

Finally got something new finished. Not just a new fic but also for a new person. I'm not really sure why I haven't written for this adorable bastard before, honestly.

Pairing: Ethan Page x OFC

Word count: 1,889

Content advisory: graphic sexual content including some elements that people might find disturbing.

You know you’re a fool because the man is poison but you still find yourself lingering a little when you know he’s going to be around backstage. Yes, he was a huge mistake that you made when you first got into the industry seven years ago. Then again a year later. And two years ago when you were both doing shows around Europe at the same time. And about six months ago when you’d both joined AEW. It would be just one more terrible mistake to hook up with Ethan Page again because somehow, you always end up thinking he’s changed and maybe, even if he doesn’t want to have a girlfriend, he’ll want something that isn’t just a glorified sex toy for a few weeks.

For years, since the first time he made you feel like a used Kleenex, you’ve had this fantasy of seducing him and ditching him, leaving him to brood on his great lost opportunity. It’s the allure of that fantasy that’s made you stupidly jump at the chance to be with him again because eventually, you have to become immune, right? RIGHT? Well, it hasn’t happened so far.

Nevertheless, there you are, the girl who doesn’t learn, playing with the straw in your drink and glancing up from time to time to see if he notices you. Because when you do manage to seduce him and break his heart, it’s going to feel like the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Yes, even better than the ones he’s given you which, you have to admit, have been pretty mind-blowing.

He’s chatting away with Scorpio, his new best friend, the two of them looking like self-styled playboys casing a resort and trying to scam rich older women out of their jewels. Maybe if they weren’t successful wrestlers, that’s what they’d be doing: gorgeous young studs for rent. Always for rent.

You’re pretty sure that Scorpio is still a decent guy under there somewhere because he always seemed like it before. Sure, he was cocky and could be bitchy but he wasn’t like he is now. That’s Ethan’s terrible influence. Scorpio is an insecure ass with a chip on his shoulder. Ethan has something seriously wrong with him. He threw poor Darby down a flight of concrete stairs for god’s sake. In his case, the smarmy heel persona is the good part because it covers the evil little sociopath he really is.

And since sociopaths can’t have real feelings for other people, it’s clearly insane that you think you’re going to be able to teach him a lesson by making him fall for you. You know this to be true.

You twirl your straw around a little, poking at the ice in the bottom of your cup, and let your eyes roam to where he’s sitting for about the fourteenth time.

Fuck.

He looks right at you and instantly, you see that he notices you looking at him, trying to look like you’re not looking. He leans into his conversation but cuts glances back a minute later, quickly flashing that killer, deceptively innocent smile.

Run.

A few minutes later, Scorpio rises to his feet and stares in your direction, laughing a little before patting his friend on the shoulder and leaving the room. So, clearly, they’ve been talking about you. You wonder what Ethan had to say. Probably not ‘that’s the girl who got away and I still think about her all the time’. You hope it isn’t ‘you would not believe how easy she is’.

Ethan pivots on his chair so that he can look right at you, still smiling, knowing and arrogant as always. You look back at the table but you can feel those dark eyes cutting through you all the same.

“Fine,” comes the familiar voice, suddenly close, “I’ll come to you, then.”

He sits down with you, not that you invited him to but he has to know that he’s welcome, even if you’re scowling like you want to be alone.

“Figured we could get together later.”

It always grates on your nerves when he speaks to you like that: no “would you like to get together” or “are you doing anything later”, no hint that you factor into the equation at all. What grates on your nerves more is that, as much as you hate it, you always respond with something like

“Sure, we could do that.”

Idiot.

He grins again and winks before he walks away. You know that he can be insecure, you’ve seen it when he talks about other wrestlers, but he’s 100% secure about you. Maybe that’s why he keeps popping up in your life- he comes back because he wants the reassurance. Too bad you don’t have someone to fill that role in your life.

*

You could have gone out with friends. A bunch of them were at the show tonight, dying to see what you looked like now that you were on tv. You got beaten in five minutes by Serena Deeb, so it’s not like it was your best showing ever but they’d been so happy for you and they’d wanted to take you out to celebrate but you’d said no, said your shoulder was sore, which wasn’t entirely a lie but it was the kind of soreness that you could tell would be relieved with an ice pack and some gentle stretching. So your friends had left disappointed but happy for you. You’d left disappointed in yourself.

It stirs something in your core right away when you see a text from him.

Send me your room number.

Most men would ask but not Ethan. You still send him the number.

“Hey gorgeous,” he greets you as he breezes through the door. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“You see me every week.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He crooks a finger at you. “Come here.”

Sometimes, you wonder if things would progress if you could make him talk to you a little more. You’ve chatted about work a bit in the past, mostly in that cooling down period post-orgasms before he takes off, but you’ve never had what you’d call a substantial conversation. If he knew you better, maybe he’d find it more difficult to brush you off so easily. Maybe the reason he avoids talking to you more is because he’s afraid that he’ll catch feelings. Oh, that is some wishful thinking there, you tell yourself.

He gets an arm around you and pulls you close, his lips fluttering every so lightly over yours, brushing his tongue against them, teasing until you lean forward, your body language just begging him to kiss you, which, at last, he does. Barely breaking contact, he shoves you down on the bed, running his hand roughly along your side and then roughly grabbing your breast

“I like this,” he whispers, toying with the strap of your camisole.

I know, asshole, you’ve said that before. That’s why I wore it.

“Thanks,” you say.

The camisole doesn’t stay long, nor does anything else you’re wearing. You’re there naked in front of him while he’s still fully clothed, licking his way down your body, pinching your flesh when he senses you’re getting too relaxed. It hurts and you know that some of this is going to leave bruises but your brain just pushes that out of the way because you know where this is headed and you don’t have any space to care about anything else.

You feel the scratch of his beard along your thigh and even that makes you moan in anticipation.

“Aren’t you the eager one,” he laughs.

Aren’t I always.

He swirls his tongue all around your folds, thrusting it up inside you a few times before settling on your clit.

“God, your pussy is dripping.”

He strokes you with two fingers and rubs them over your stomach to show you just how pathetically turned on you are by him, like this was something you wouldn’t have figured out otherwise. Then he pushes them inside you, as if the feeling of his mouth wasn’t enough to make you fall to pieces. You can feel your climax rising inside you as he lavishes attention on you, your gasps and cries growing in volume and frequency until you can’t think of anything else.

And then he pulls back, grinning.

“I don’t know if I should keep going.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groan, trying to grab at his hair and push him back down.

“Ask me.”

“Would you make me come, please?”

“Hm… maybe.”

His slick fingers glide lightly over your heated pussy and you practically scream.

“You can ask me nicer than that.”

“Ethan, please…”

“Please what?”

“Let me come, I need it.”

He smirks and presses his fingers just a little harder, using his weight to push you down when you try to move and get more friction.

“Please, I’m begging you.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I like when you beg.”

You’re practically in tears.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

“Well, you were going to do that already.”

Before you can respond, he pushes his fingers back inside you, his thumb pressed down on your clit. With his other hand, he grabs your hair and yanks your head back so far you can barely swallow. Your eyes are open just enough that you can see the expression on his face, one that always makes your blood run cold, that cruel detachment and pleasure that he’s totally in control of your body. You wish you could hold out but you know you can’t. You’ve tried but you’re barely even able to delay the inevitable. And so, as you always do, you give in and revel in the sensation that tears through you, always so intense and shattering.

He wipes his hand on your cheek, laughing a little.

“Such a horny little slut, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he grabs your camisole and twists it around your throat, jerking on it hard and releasing it a few times before straddling your chest, pinning your arms to your sides. He keeps one hand on the makeshift garotte and loosens his pants with the other to reveal his already rigid cock, pressing it against your lips as he chokes you, smiling when he sees you struggle.

You feel like you might black out but every time you think it’s inevitable, he loosens his hold just enough for you to draw in the air you need before twisting it again. It’s obvious how much he’s loving this, having you helpless while he strokes himself, pausing a few times to push himself roughly into your mouth.

He comes with that familiar, guttural sound, moving to make sure he spills himself on your tits, neck, and face, letting the last few drops fall in your hair. A real mess.

“Filthy girl,” he hisses as he steps off the bed. He’s already tucked himself safely away before he gives you another wink and adds, “Better clean yourself off.”

Sometimes, he hangs around a bit after he’s done but not tonight. He shrugs and heads for the door while you’re still pulling yourself into a sitting position.

“Always nice spending time with you,” he quips.

And he’s out the door, just like always.

[nerdzzone]

Gaze on the Shore

Summary: As the world starts to reopen, tentatively hoping the worst of the pandemic is behind them, Chris and Whitney face a new set of challenges. With busy work schedules and the pressures of normal life looming on the horizon, will the foundation they’ve built through lockdown be strong enough to keep their relationship steady or will they crack under the strain?

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Part Nine

Note: This is the last chapter of this part of the series, but there will be more! I’ve already started working on it so hopefully it won’t be too long until I can start posting it. Thank you so much to everyone who has liked or commented on the series so far, it really means a lot to me. I love hearing all your thoughts so feel free to comment or send in your predictions for their future!

_____

Part Ten

A few weeks after we returned home to Massachusetts, Chris and I were both disappointed by the arrival of my period. We were prepared for the possibility that I wouldn’t get pregnant the first month we started trying - especially since our ability to try was limited for most of the first week that Chris was home - but we had hoped that we’d beat the odds and were a little disheartened that it hadn’t happened. There were a few days of moping on my part which I blamed on the hormones that came with that time of the month, but with Chris’ gentle nudging I managed to shake off the melancholy feelings and replace them with determination. As he pointed out - with a cheeky grin - we’d just been given an excuse to spend another month enjoying the process of trying any chance we got.

And we absolutely took advantage of that opportunity. We could barely keep our hands off of each other and spent every available moment working towards our goal, but when we weren’t focusing our energy on trying to have another baby, we were giving it to the child that we already had who was going through a transition of his own.

Because Grayson was starting preschool.

Considering that the pandemic was still not as close to being a thing of the past as we had hoped it would be, we’d agonized over the decision just as we had the year before, but in the end, we figured the benefits outweighed the risk. Knowing that he’d be starting kindergarten the following year, we wanted him to have some experience away from home and in a classroom environment before then and we managed to find a great little place - under the recommendation of Chris’ mom - that only had fifteen other children so his level of exposure wouldn’t be too overwhelming. They also had a policy that all adults wore masks when entering the classroom during drop off or pick up just to add another layer of protection for the kids.

However, all their wonderful protocol didn’t mean that we didn’t still have our fair share of anxiety - for non-pandemic reasons - about the thought of him starting school and we were grateful that his new teachers agreed to meet with us a week before the program started.

“Hi!” Grayson greeted the two women as they opened the door of the classroom and welcomed us cheerily. “My name’s Gray!”

“Hi, Gray, I’m Trish,” One of them introduced herself. “And this is my friend, Sandra.”

Chris and I introduced ourselves as well as Grayson gasped at the sight of the many toys around the room and bolted off towards them.

“Do you mind if he plays?” I asked. “Or would you prefer if he didn’t mess everything up before school actually starts?”

“No, no, he can play,” Sandra chuckled. “It’ll give us time to chat without him getting bored.”

“He’s so excited about coming here,” I smiled. “He’s been talking about it every day.”

“We’re excited to have him! We were thrilled when Lisa called to ask if we had any spots available,” Trish assured us. “But do you two have any questions or concerns?”

“Nothing major,” Chris shrugged. “He’s super confident and social, he’ll probably take it all in stride. We just wanted him to see the space and meet you before the first day so he’d have a bit of familiarity.”

“And we were wondering what we should send with him on the first day,” I added. “Does he need a full lunch or just more of a snack?”

“Well, we give them a snack around ten o’clock - usually just some fruit and crackers - and then they have their lunch around noon just before we go to play outside,” Sandra told us. “So, how much you send is up to you. You can send just a little extra snack or a full lunch if he’s a big eater.”

“Oh, he’s a big eater,” Chris chuckled. “He loves food, he’d probably snack all morning if you let him.”

“There’s a lot of them that are like that,” Sandra smiled as Trish nodded in agreement before continuing the explanation.

“As for what else you should send, we recommend sending a few spare clothes to leave in his cubby. Even if he’s good at using the bathroom at home, there’s often a few accidents when they first start. There’s a lot of distractions and it’s an unfamiliar place so it’s good just to be prepared.”

“That makes sense,” I agreed. “He is great at using the bathroom though and he’s not shy about letting us know when he needs to go so he should be okay.”

“Great,” Trish smiled. “Is there anything that you’d like us to know?”

“Nothing that we’re super concerned about. I think we’re more anxious about him starting than he is,�� I explained with a nervous laugh. “But he has been pretty isolated throughout the pandemic, as I’m sure a lot of kids have been. He plays really well with all his cousins, but he hasn’t spent much time around kids that he doesn’t know so we are a little concerned about how well he’ll do with the whole sharing and taking turns thing.”

“Yes, we’re anticipating that we’ll have to work on that with a lot of the kids this year,” Trish assured us. “It’s a hard thing for them to do at this age anyway, but I don’t think he’ll be alone in finding it extra difficult after the last year.”

Chris let out a sigh of relief and I smiled, but it wasn’t something I had been particularly worried about. Grayson definitely had his selfish moments as most children did, but he had a big heart and loved to play with other kids so I didn’t think he’d kick up too much fuss about sharing the toys.

Our conversation continued as they went over the morning routine and asked about allergies and other important things they should know about him. We’d covered almost everything, but it wasn’t until Grayson called Chris over to see the large collection of toy dinosaurs they had that I broached the last important subject.

“There’s one other thing I’d like to talk about,” I hesitantly started. “Chris hates bringing it up, but we would really appreciate it if there was a certain amount of discretion about who Grayson’s dad is. He really is just a normal dad with a weird job so when he’s not working he’ll probably do pick up and drop off just as much as me and I know some people might recognize him, but if we could just not make a big deal about it, we’d really appreciate that.”

I cringed a little at my awkward explanation, but I knew it was something we should discuss. Both of the women immediately put me at ease as they gave me very sympathetic looks and were quick to reassure me.

“Of course,” Sandra nodded. “We don’t care at all who any of the children’s parents are and all of our families this year are really nice, I can’t imagine that any of them would do anything that could put the safety of any of the children in jeopardy.”

“That’s good to know,” I smiled. “It can be hard with him being so well known. We don’t have a big problem with photographers around here luckily and most of his fans are respectful enough not to cause any trouble, but it’s always a risk, you know? We just want Grayson to have a normal school experience, but I know Chris has been worried that his career could make things tough for Gray.”

“We understand completely,” Trish smiled. “If anyone asks, we’ll be as discreet as possible and I can assure you that we’d never let Grayson leave with anyone who hasn’t been approved by you.”

“Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be totally fine, but I just felt like it was something I should mention. We’re so excited for Grayson to come here and we want it to be a positive experience for everyone.”

“Absolutely, that’s what we want too,” Trish agreed and I felt a wave of relief.

I had no doubts that they would be understanding of the situation. They had both been teaching for many years so they were very professional and since they knew Lisa - even if it was just through their work connections - I never imagined them being too bothered about who Chris was, but it seemed like the responsible thing to do to have that conversation.

By the time we left that afternoon, we were all feeling very excited about Grayson starting at preschool the following week. He was thrilled with all the fun toys that he’d get to go back and play with and Chris and I were excited for this next big milestone in his life. It was hard to accept how fast he was growing up, but he was so ready to get out there and start learning and making friends that it left us feeling very confident in our decision to start his education.

-

A week later, on the first morning of preschool, there was a definite nervous energy in our house. Grayson was buzzing with excitement and could barely sit still long enough to eat his breakfast while Chris spent most of the morning watching him like we were sending him away to boarding school and wouldn’t get to see him for months.

“It’s just hard,” he’d insisted when I teasingly called him out on it. “It seems like just yesterday that he was learning to walk and now he’s starting school.”

His words were true, but as much as it was a bittersweet day for us, we had to be brave for Grayson. He did seem fairly oblivious to any inner turmoil that we were feeling though as he dragged us out the door as soon as I’d taken a few pictures of him with his little backpack on and his brand new outfit for his big first day.

It wasn’t until we walked into the classroom that I started to think we might run into some trouble as Grayson froze at the sight of the other children running around. Suddenly looking very shy, he hid behind Chris’ leg and refused to walk any further.

“Hi Grayson,” Sandra greeted him. “It’s great to see you again!”

Grayson had no interest in responding as he buried his face against Chris’ thigh.

“C’mon, bud,” Chris chuckled. “You’ve been so excited all morning.”

Sandra shot us a sympathetic look as Chris’ words did nothing to help.

“Sometimes it’s a little intimidating when they realize there’s going to be other kids here too.”

“He’s usually the life of the party,” I informed her, surprised by his sudden trepidation. “I’m sure he’ll come around soon. Shall we go find your cubby, Gray? You can show us where you get to keep all your stuff!”

Grayson peeked out and nodded his head before moving back just enough to take Chris’ hand. Relieved that he was looking a bit braver, Chris led him into the little room where each child had a spot for their things and looked around.

“Can you see your name?” Chris asked him. “Can you remember what letter it starts with?”

“It starts with ‘G’!” Grayson cheered. “It’s right there!”

He pointed to a spot in the corner that he correctly guessed to be his.

“Good job,” Chris smiled, following as Grayson pulled him towards it. “Can you put your inside shoes on by yourself or would you like some help?”

“I can do it,” Gray told us confidently as he slid off his backpack and unzipped it to pull out his shoes.

Once he was settled on the little bench, I picked up his bag to pull out his spare clothes and put them in the basket with his name on it before putting his lunch kit on the shelf. Chris squatted down, ready to help if needed, and once he was all changed and ready to play, we headed back out into the classroom. He dragged us over to a train set that was on a table in the corner and got Chris helping him build more of the track while he showed me all of the trains. 

“The blue one is my favourite,” a little voice informed us after we’d been playing for a few minutes. All of our heads turned, almost in unison, to see a little boy standing on the other side of the table. “His name is Thomas.”

“It is!” Grayson agreed. “And my name is Grayson.”

“My name’s Jake,” the little boy introduced himself. “Can I play too?”

Grayson nodded enthusiastically and held out the train he’d just been showing me.

“You can be Thomas!”

I smiled proudly at his willingness to include his new friend and we watched them play for a few minutes before I nudged Chris and pointed to the door. He nodded in agreement and turned to Grayson.

“Okay, Gray. Your Ma and I are gonna head home now,” he told him. “But we’ll be back later to pick you up, okay?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Grayson’s face fell and he frantically shook his head.

“No, Daddy, you have to stay!”

“We can’t stay, Gray,” I reminded him. “We’re too big for school, but you get to play with Jake and all your new friends.”

“I don’t want to,” he decided, putting down the train in his hand. “I want to go home too.”

“You have to stay, buddy,” Chris insisted as he stood up. “But we’ll be back really soon and you can tell us all about your day.”

Within an instant, Grayson burst into tears and threw his arms around me before I could stand up too.

“No, Mama, don’t leave me here!”

I sighed and held him tightly so I could lift him with me as I stood up, resting him on my hip. 

“What’s going on, Gray?” I asked. “You were so excited about starting school and you’ve already made a new friend.”

Poor Jake was watching us as he sat at the train table, looking slightly puzzled by Grayson’s behaviour.

“Do you wanna play with me?” He asked, but Grayson simply let out another wail and buried his head in my neck.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting this at all,” Chris murmured to me over the sound of Grayson’s tears. “Should we take him home?”

“No, he’ll be totally fine once he settles in,” I insisted to him quietly before talking to Grayson as well. “I know it’s scary doing something new, but you’re going to have so much fun today and we’ll be back so soon.”

“No,” he cried. “Don’t go!”

“Why don’t we stay for a few more minutes?” Chris suggested, looking close to tears himself. 

I somewhat reluctantly nodded my head - as I knew that really, a few minutes probably wouldn’t make much difference - and we all settled back on the floor. Jake seemed relieved that his new friend wasn’t going to leave as he passed Grayson back the train he’d been playing with moments before and the pair of them went right back to what they’d been doing as Grayson fought to control his sniffles. 

We played with them for almost ten more minutes - by which point Grayson had completely calmed down - before we made another attempt to leave, but again, Grayson instantly burst into tears and clung to my legs like he would never see me again if he let go.

“Grayson, you’re going to be totally fine,” I insisted. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“No, Mama, don’t leave,” he sobbed. “Daddy, I wanna go home.”

I could practically hear Chris’ heart crack in his chest at the sound of Grayson’s desperate plea, but I knew that the best thing would be for him to stay so I held firm despite my own growing heartache about leaving.

“You’re going to have so much fun, I promise.”

He protested again, but to my relief, one of the teachers came over to see what all the fuss was about.

“He’s been so excited all day,” Chris fretted. “I don’t know why he’s suddenly so scared.”

“It’s totally normal,” she assured us. “It’s hard to say goodbye on the first day, but we’ve got lots of really great things planned for today. I was even going to read a dinosaur story later.”

That got Grayson’s attention and I was grateful that she’d remembered that we’d mentioned his love of dinosaurs when we visited.

“You are?”

His little voice was timid and hesitant, but the tears seemed to have momentarily stopped and I was relieved.

“I am,” Sandra nodded. “Would you and Jake like to come and see which one?”

Grayson nodded his head and reluctantly stepped away from me.

“That’s pretty cool,” I told him as I squatted down to his level. “You can go with Sandra and check out the book and then when Daddy and I come back, you can tell us all about it, okay?”

His lip quivered, but he nodded his head and I felt a wave of pride at how brave he was being despite how nervous he clearly was.

“Great, I can’t wait to hear all about it,” I smiled. “Can I have a hug?”

He nodded again and threw his arms around me before pulling away and racing over to hug Chris as well. Once we’d said our goodbyes, he took Sandra’s hand and let her lead him over to their library area as we scurried out the door.

It wasn’t until we got out to the parking lot that I heard a sniffle coming from Chris. I stopped walking and grabbed his hand, tugging enough to get him to turn and face me.

“Are you crying?” I asked as I took my mask off. He shrugged as he did the same, but I could see how glassy his eyes were. “Awe, Chris! He’s going to be totally fine. It’s only four hours.”

“I know, I know,” he nodded. “It’s just fuckin’ heart breakin’ when he’s crying and begging us not to go.”

I smiled and pulled him into a hug, feeling him instantly squeeze me tightly against him.

“I know, but it’s not surprising considering the stories your mom always tells about you crying hysterically every time you started school.”

“That’s true,” Chris chuckled. “I think I owe her an apology for putting her through that because man, this is fuckin’ rough.”

I stayed in his arms for a moment longer before I remembered that there was something we needed to do while Grayson was at preschool. I’d made the decision earlier that morning, but had been too distracted by all the excitement and forgot to loop Chris in.

“Well, I have something to distract you,” I told him, feeling butterflies of anticipation in my stomach as I pulled back enough to look up at his face. “My period is late. Only a couple of days, but I think we should probably go buy a pregnancy test.”

The smile that appeared on Chris’ face was heartwarming. He was instantly grinning from ear to ear as if any guilt he felt about leaving Gray was apparently pushed from his mind.

“Really? Do you think you’re pregnant?”

“I think I might be,” I nodded with a smile. “My period is usually pretty reliable, but I have been kinda stressed about Gray starting school so that could be why it’s late. I don’t feel any different other than my boobs being kinda sore, but I didn’t really have any pregnancy symptoms with Gray straight away either so it’s hard to tell for sure.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Chris asked, reaching to take my hand before tugging me towards the car. “Let’s go!”

I laughed and hurried to follow him, feeling the same bubbling excitement myself.

-

Peeing on a stick was always an uncomfortable thing. Even more so when there was a grown man, a few steps away, staring at me and willing that stick to provide a certain result. 

“Chris, I can’t pee with you watching me like that.”

“Why not?” He asked. “You’ve peed in front of me before.”

“I know that, but you’re putting a lot of pressure on me and it’s making it hard to relax.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. “What if I turn around?”

He turned to face the wall and I laughed.

“Chris, no! Just wait in the bedroom. It takes three minutes for the results anyway, I promise you won’t miss anything.”

He sighed dramatically, but did as I asked and slipped out the door. Once he was gone, I was able to relax and do what I needed to do before sorting myself out, grabbing the test off the counter and going out to meet Chris. He was pacing around the room when I walked in and I smiled at the sight.

“Are you nervous?”

My question alerted him to my presence, but he shook his head.

“I’m excited,” he insisted. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Me too,” I smiled, but after a moment of thought I made another confession. “But I’m scared too. I’m scared that it won’t be positive, but I’m also kinda scared that it will be.”

That got Chris’ attention and he paced over to the bed where he sat down and patted the spot next to him. I took the hint and sat beside him.

“Why does it scare you?”

“Because it’s a big thing,” I admitted. “I’m excited to have another baby, but it’ll be a big change for Grayson and I’m worried that we won’t be able to juggle him and a newborn and they’ll both end up disappointed in us.”

“I know what you mean, but I have no doubt that we can do this,” he told me, his confident tone putting me at ease as he took my hand in his. “I’m sure there’ll be an adjustment period, but Grayson will be an amazing big brother and we’ll make it work.”

“I know,” I nodded before leaning my head on his shoulder. “It’s just that it’s been just the three of us for so long, it’s hard to imagine another little person joining the group.”

“It is kinda hard to imagine,” Chris agreed. “But once we get used to it, it’ll be amazing.”

I took a moment to mull over his words before a smile slid onto my face.

“I think you’re right,” I decided, stretching up to place a kiss on his cheek before sending my gaze down to the test in my hand. “And I seriously hope you are.”

Chris looked down, his eyes widening with a hopeful light in them.

“What?”

I held out the test, a grin sliding onto my face.

“It’s positive, Chris,” I told him. “I’m pregnant.”

Chris glanced at the test in my hand before springing up from the bed with a cheer of joy and excitement. I barely had time to put the test down before he pulled me to my feet and wrapped his arms around me and I couldn’t help, but laugh as he showered me with kisses and gratitude as if I had any more to do with our latest accomplishment than he did.

It was a nerve wracking thing despite the fact that we had planned it, but Chris’ overwhelming glee and enthusiasm was quickly pushing all doubts from my mind. We wanted this - I wanted this - and as Chris leaned back to place his hands on my still flat stomach, I knew that we had more than enough love in our little family to share with the new little baby we’d soon be welcoming and any other babies we chose to have in the future.

-

Tags:  @maggotzombie​ @moonlacebeam​ @mizzzpink​ @zaylaugh @flowery-mess​ @flowerjewels​ @njrronaldo7​ @hockeychick10​ @partypoison00​ @theladybiers​ @sidepieces​ @firoozehmoon @patzammit​ @sparkledfirecracker​ @mytbel0st​ @chvntelle-99 @mjey12​ @denisemarieangelina​ @elrw24​ @findthebeautyinbreakdowns​ @trottae17​

[eclipsedpascal]

Making Daddy Proud

Stepdad!Duncan x Female Reader

After moving in with your estranged mother and her new husband, Duncan Shepherd, you started to grow very close to your new stepdad. The two of you had a great relationship and he was doing his best to be a good father figure for you, knowing you missed your dad so much. But there was a problem, you found yourself insanely attracted to him and were starting to notice little things indicating he might feel the same way.

Warnings: very inappropriate relationships, Stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, Cheating is ofc implied, 20+ year age gap, daddy kink, unprotected sex (but I kinda imagined the reader to be on birth control so is okie😌) fingering (female receiving), choking, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving) and face fucking😃

Notes: Okie sooo I know some people will hate this fic and ofc I understand that, but if you do hate it then please don't send me any hate!! just don't read it🖤 anywayss I got dis ask saying "Concept: Stepdad Duncan x naive reader😉" nd omg i LOVE the whole concept of Stepdad!Duncan sm, like if you've been in the fandom for a while you'll probably know the fic "The Hand That Robs the Cradle" by Langdonsrapture nd that fic was my holy grail when it came out!! so you know I just had to go all out here nd get carried away writing it hehe:')

word count: 5.4k

●●●●●●●●

The opportunity to study political science at American University in Washington DC had been one you simply couldn’t pass up on, but unfortunately it meant moving away from your father to stay closer to campus grounds. You knew it was worth it in the long run, I mean you had been waiting on this chance for years and wanted to make your father proud, but you would miss him.

He was never home too much, always busy working, but he meant the world to you. It had been just the two of you for a long time now. Your mother had moved away once their divorce finalised 7 years ago, impulsively leaving you in his custody as she ran off and gallivanted around the world, meeting all sorts of interesting men she would tell you about.

Luckily for you, she had settled down with one of those interesting men in DC recently, and upon discovering your acceptance into the prestigious university she had offered you a place to stay whilst you studied.

It was a frightening move to make, but staying with your mother in DC had actually been pretty interesting. You hadn’t spent time with her in so long and it had been nice to catch up with her, I mean sure she had been a little distant, but that was expected with having not spent any real time with her in so long.

You were just grateful she had let you stay with her in the first place, thinking she would have probably preferred to be left alone with her new husband, Duncan Shepherd.

They had been married about four months when you moved in and from what you could see, things were going well; especially considering she had sprung the engagement on everyone pretty fast. You were just happy knowing she was happy.

Though you had only met the man in question once before moving in, he really seemed like a perfect partner. He didn’t have a single obvious flaw to him, but see that was the problem. He was completely flawless to you.

You had tried to find things you didn’t like about him, even just tiny things, thinking hating him would be far better than thinking of him the way had been, but no matter what you did, you just couldn’t seem to fault him. And the longer you stayed with them, the worse your little problem became.

You weren’t 100% sure of how old he was. You only knew he was in his early to mid forties. But being at least 20 years your senior, you knew he was definitely old enough to be fulfilling the role he was as your stepfather. It felt strange to have a new stepdad at the age of 20, (almost 21) but it was even stranger with you being so blindly attracted to him.

And it wasn’t even just his looks. Though, yes, they were quite the spectacle, it was more than that. He was confident and cocky, always knowing exactly what to do and say to make the people around him do whatever he wanted them to. He could make you laugh until your stomach was in cramps, and not just through telling dad jokes. Charisma rolled off of him in waves.

He was intuitive and crafty; smart to put in plainly. And his interests appeared to be more intellectually based than anything else, which was quite the opposite of your mother, so it baffled you as to how your mother had managed to snatch him up so easily in the first place.

Now it’s not that you were jealous, really. It was more that you didn’t understand how these two polar opposite personality’s had ended up colliding together in the manner that they had.

Whenever the three of you would sit and have an evening meal together, Duncan always made you feel welcomed in the conversation, which was a great comfort to both you and your mother, being the relationship you had was so strained. Because of this and the fact you both had quite a lot in common when it came to your interests, Duncan and you had become almost good friends in the small time that you had been living there.

It was obvious he was doing his best to be some kind of fatherly figure to you. knowing that you were missing your actual dad, he did his best to help you with the things he knew your dad usually would. Whether it was school work or just having someone to joke with from time to time. He was there.

Sometimes when he was there, though, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he felt something more too. Such as the moments where his stares would linger on your form for just a little too long, or the way he would sometimes fix your hair for you if it had strayed across your face the wrong way. Just small things he did that fatherly figures didn’t typically tend to do with their daughters; especially when his wife, your mother, was right there. Sure, she seemed oblivious to it, but you certainly weren’t.

●●●●●●●●

Taking your now lukewarm cup of coffee from the breakfast bar counter, you brought it to your lips and gulped the bitter liquid down, fighting viciously to stay alert. It was nearing 3am and you had been writing for hours. Concentrating was no longer your most favourable asset and your half lidded eyes were growing wearer by the minute, but you just had to finish this paper.

It was 17 percent of your grade and due in two weeks. A persuasive essay on propaganda within the current American political climate and you had been slowly working at it for weeks, but you knew if you left it hanging over your head any longer it would drive you insane.

Sitting back in the stool you resided on, you took quick solace in the many noises coming from the ajar kitchen window, listening to a low rumble of thunder, accompanied by the constant pitter patter of rain falling from the gloomy DC sky above. It had been hot and humid all week, eventually cultivating into large clouds that had now given in, spilling out showers for almost the entire day past.

You recalled all the time you’d spent by the pool with your mother and Duncan in the past week, enjoying the current heatwave by sunbathing next to it on one of the many loungers. The house was kind of set up like a hotel that way. With Duncan always needing to be prepared for any events he may have to hold for his company’s business associates or press, he had furnished the home with what was to the three of you, unnecessary seating and tableware; amongst other things.

You stirred, returning your eyes back to the last few lines you had written and attempted to go over them in your head, but quickly realised you couldn't even manage that without stumbling over them or jumbling the words up beyond comprehension.

Abruptly interrupting your confused stream of thought, was the kitchen door groaning open. So with a frown plastered to your face, you shot your head up to recognise the intruder. But your frown was quickly blown away at discovering that it was Duncan who had entered the balmy room, and he was in more glory than you had ever seen him.

You had seen his silhouette whilst he showered before. Having gone into his and your mother’s shared bedroom whilst searching for earrings, you had seen him through the whited out, frosted glass of the on-suit bathroom door. But this was something entirely different. This was him, stood in kitchen doorway with nothing on but his grey Calvin Klein boxers.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you were still up.” He quirked a brow at you, wondering why you were still sat in the kitchen so late at night. You swallowed deeply at the sight of him. Your eyes magnetised to his body, dilating with such a sultry image before them. Pulling your eyes back up to his face, you hoped he hadn’t seen their little detour down to his crotch.

“Uhm.. i’m, uh.. w-working on an essay.” Fuck! He’ll definitely know how nervous you are now. You looked away from him, too embarrassed to face him and cringing at your own attempt to speak. “It’s due in next week and I wanted to get it finished.” Okay that’s better, you thought. Maybe he’ll just think you’re just too tired to have a proper conversation or something.

“Oh, right,” he trailed off, looking you up and down a bit as he walked further into the room. You watched the back of his head as he opened the fringe, holding it open and scanning the contents of it. Deciding on a small bottle of water, he retrieved it from the middle shelf before closing the door and walking over to lean on the opposite side of the counter from you.

He didn’t seem too bothered by the fact he was practically undressed in front of you. Of course, you weren't complaining, but it was interesting. You tried to think of something else you could add to your open word document, wanting to distract yourself from his displayed body. But thinking as hard as you possibly could, your mind still brought you nothing.

You awkwardly pulled at the sleeve of your oversized ‘American University” sweater and hoisted it back up onto your shoulder. It had ridden down your arm whilst you were aggressively fiddling with your fingers - a nervous habit you had developed in your early teens. People would often point it out to you, but it was just one of those things you couldn’t stop doing.

There was a deafening silence stuffed between the two of you. So looking around the room, you tried to focus on anything in your line of vision that wasn’t him. It was just too hard seeing him like; his plump lips wrapped around the bottle’s mouth as he drank, his sleepy un-styled curls falling just above his perfectly manicured brows and wearing nothing but those fucking grey boxers. He was making it unbearably hard not to stare.

Deciding to speak, you cleared your throat. “So did you just wake up? Or could you not sleep?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the most random shit.. and you know how your mom is, she snores a lot.” He chuckled. His eyes never leaving you, beginning to feel as if they were boring holes into your soul as you kept full eye contact with him.

“Yeah, that must get pretty annoying.” You nodded slowly, thinking about how many nights you had spent wide awake when you were younger, all due to her roaring, loud snores passing through the paper thin walls of your childhood home.

“It does.” A smile played on his lips, taking another swig of water before speaking again. “so what’s the essay about?”

“It’s that one I was telling you about a few weeks ago, if you remember. it’s a persuasive on propaganda within the current American political climate.” You reminded him of the conversation you had about it when he dropped you off to class one morning not too long ago. The two of you often carpooled together, with the University campus being so close to his office, it made for an easy drive on the days he was needed in.

You guys would listen to playlists together on the drive and make fun of each others music taste, that was when you weren’t too busy being amazed by how similar they could be.

“Are you struggling with it? I mean, it is getting pretty late now.” He turned to check the clock which hung on the wall behind him, then looked back at you questioningly.

Duncan was good at helping you with this kind of thing. He was extremely well versed in politics, with his family’s background and all. Your mom had told you he used to be very involved with the white house, saying when he was younger he even went to prison for a short time before president underwood had pardoned him.

“I just can’t concentrate, but I really need to get it done or it’ll stress me out.” You lifted your bare feet up onto the stool seat, your knees coming up to your chest so you could rest your chin on them. You were only wearing panties with the sweater, it being too hot to wear anything more.

“Can I come over and check it?” He closed his bottle of water, tightening the lid with his muscular arms as he spoke. You had almost forgot he wasn’t wearing much before he said this, but watching him screw the bottle cap on as he asked to could come round to your side of the counter? It had you weak for him all over again.

“Uh.. yeah, course.” He padded his bare feet over the white, tiled flooring towards you, placing the bottle down on the counter and moving behind you to read the most recent paragraphs you had written. His hand was stretched over to the other side of you, resting on the edge of the breakfast bar as the skin of his arm grazed across your back.

Even with you being sat on such a tall stool, he still managed to tower over you. His hight was usually intimidating as it was, but with the added factor of him being almost completely undressed it was even worse. A small waft of air blew his expensive cologne towards you, creeping past your nostrils and possessing your senses completely before you started to feel his breathe on your upper neck. It wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to make your cunt start pulsating.

You were disgusted by yourself. He’s your mother’s husband! And your Stepdad! What the fuck was wrong with you? You could only imagine what people’s reactions would be if they knew of the truly sinful thoughts you had about him, and you hated yourself for it.

He was your type, yes. A rich, older man who wasn’t actually an asshole, and they were hard to come by, but that wasn’t relevant. You needed to control yourself. No matter how hard that may be.

“What you have so far is really good. Your argument is strong and as always with your work, it’s written well. You’re smart, Y/N. It’s impressive.” He humoured himself with a scoff, his voice interrupting your lewd thoughts.

You blushed at his compliment, hiding your face behind your knees slightly and looking up at him. “Thanks, Duncan.” You knew he was just trying to be a good dad figure to you, but you couldn’t help being attracted to the way he was so caring for you. Maybe it’s fucked up, but it’s not your fault all you need is an older man’s approval to become turned on.

“I mean it.” He looks so sincere as he talks to you. His face would be intimately close to yours if you hadn’t hidden it from him earlier. You notice his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes again. His stare no longer felt friendly, but more.. lustful. Were you crazy or was he really doing this?

Suddenly he looks away from you, moving his eyes back to the laptop’s screen. “Maybe you should just get some sleep. I know you said it’ll stress you out, but if you get some rest you’ll be able to get back into it tomorrow with better concentration.” He does his best to steer the conversation back to where is once was, reminding himself that you’re his fucking step daughter and that he has a beautiful wife sleeping just upstairs.

“I know that, its just..” You sighed, blinking up at him. You brought your legs back down you hang over the edge of the seat, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was to you, wanting to do nothing more than to drape your arms behind his neck an-.

“Nope I won’t listen to it. From what I can see it’s an incredibly strong piece of work already, so just go get some sleep and come back to it in the morning, okay sweetheart?” He laughed a little, looking down at you again.

That nickname. Sweetheart. He called you it all the time and yet it always managed to take your breath away. But the thing is, he usually wasn’t this close to you when he did. So when you squeezed your legs together and bite down on your bottom lip, doing your best to ease the overwhelming desire you felt for him in that moment, there was no way he hadn’t seen it.

You were frozen staring at him, his face static and unreadable. You hoped he didn't choose to shout at you for how repulsive your behaviour was, or maybe he would kick you out? Your mind began spiralling, wrapping itself in intricate knots as you held your breath, awaiting a reply from him.

“Do you like that? When I call you sweetheart.” His voice was deep, sultry and dripping with desire. Shock coursed through you. That was definitely not what you had expected him to say. He seemed even larger now, his confidence making you feel small in comparison as your mind scrabbled to find the words you were supposed to use in your current predicament, but it never found any.

"You like it when daddy gives you nicknames?” He moved his hand up and delicately grasped the skin where your neck met your jaw, his eyes half lidded with lust. Your heart was beating so fast now and your breathing had grown shallow. You were so lost for words, only able to whimper out a weak “yes” before looking down to his boxers, trying to avoid his eyes but still wanting him just as much as he now appeared to want you.

He lifted your chin and kissed you roughly, drinking in your lips as if you were the water he had ventured down stairs for all along; and you began to wonder if you perhaps were. Maybe you were what he had been craving, just as you had been craving him.

He pulled the stool closer to him with his spare hand, leading you to wrap your legs around his torso as you tangled your tiny fingers through his sleep rustled hair. It was passionate. His kiss was sloppy, yet perfectly executed as his tongue slipped past your lips to glide over your own. His greying stubble dug into your skin, burning it with pure contact.

You parted to breath; and for just a moment, though it felt like hours, you stared into each others eyes with a ferociously neither of you could nor wanted to tame.

He tuts. “You really shouldn’t drink so much coffee little one, it’s not good for you. And it’s all I can taste.” He couldn’t help but reprimand you for the little habit, he had just gotten so used to doing it over the past three months, and using it to tease you sounded even more appealing.

You opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off when he lunged at you again, kissing you viciously. He began to move his hands all across your body, his fingertips grazing over every inch of you they possibly could as he started to undress you, pulling your oversized sweater above your head and taking handfuls of your breasts. He was kneading them, leaning down to kiss and suck on them whilst he watched you throw your head back, completely enthralled by him.

You were taken aback by how quick things had escalated, your sense of control had deteriorated far too rapidly and was ebbing away even further with each little kiss he left on your skin.

His large hand slid down to your panties, playing with the lacy bow that was centred on the waist band. He hovered his hand over your heat, cupping it and feeling just how sticky you had become for him. You let out a moan, all sense of wrong and right leaving you completely as you uttered a soft “Daddy” and ground your cunt into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right. So desperate for daddy.” He mused, ripping your thin underwear off and dropping it down onto the floor beneath you. Bringing his face to yours again, your noses bumped and leant on each other for some kind of purchase, the both of you watching his hand as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, gathering a fair amount of slick on them before pressing two inside you.

“Ahh!!” You let out a moan, it was louder than you expected and reminded you of what was really going on here. Having been too caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even thought about how being complete fucking naked with your step father between your legs would look if your mother had decided to come downstairs.

“Ah, ah, shh baby. We don’t wanna get now caught do we?” His breathe was hot on your lips, whispering as to not alert anyone. “So tight.”

You whispered back. “I’m sorry daddy, it was an accident- mmph!” You muffled your moan.

“That’s it. Who’s my good girl?” He lay a gentle peck on you lips, only stopping as to allow you to answer his question.

“I am daddy!! I’m your good girl!” You spoke with urgency, but did your best to keep the volume low, which was quite the struggle in between moans. Duncan could see this, so he pressed your lips together. Kissing you into a muffled silence.

You felt his spare hand on your neck, squeezing it just enough for you to still breathe okay when he pulled away from your mouth, moving his lips to the shell of your ear and biting the lobe. He murmured in your ear. “Do you know how hard it was, this week? Having to sit there next to your mom at the poolside and see you just lying there like that?! That fucking bikini. It took everything in me not to cum right there.”

His fingers were moving slowly, going in deep and curling up against your g spot, making you cry out and lean on his shoulder, biting it to keep yourself quiet. he started to rub your clit in hard circles. He was so experienced. It was mind-blowing.

“Would it have served you more pleasure to know, I only wore it for you?” It was true, you had only worn it for him and it had obviously worked. You certainly had his attention now. He growled at this, pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt.

He yanked your neck closer to him, speaking down to you. “Just for that? Get on your fucking knees.” As soon as he let go of your throat you were climbing off the stool and onto the floor. The heat of the room, and of your acts too, made the marble tiling feel like ice pressed onto your flushed skin. But you didn't care.

You watched him pull his boxers down, cock springing free, adjacent to his stomach. Never having been with anyone of this size before, you had never seen a cock this big. You reached out and touched it, feeling just how hard he was. He hissed at the contact, looking down at you as you watched his facial expressions with wide eyes.

You played with it in your hand, stroking it with one and palming his balls with the other. He stroked his fingers through your hair, giving you a reassuring look as you licked the tip. The salty taste hit your tongue, making you crave his cock even more. So without another second going to waste, you took him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Ahh fuck!” You began bobbing your head, your eyes fixed on him as a groan left his lips. He was watching you intently, threading his fingers through your hair and onto your scalp to get a good grip on your head. You let your jaw go loose, knowing what he was about to do and preparing yourself for it.

He started thrusting his hips into your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat with almost every shove. You had honestly impressed yourself, I mean you knew you gave good head, but taking a cock this big as it fucked into your throat was something to be proud of.

“Mmm that’s it sweetheart.” Your stomach fluttered at his approval. The gagging noises you were making giving him even more pleasure. “You just wanna make daddy proud, don’t you princess?” You mumbled a wet “yes daddy” around his cock, sending sweet vibrations through it as he pushed himself as far as he could into your throat.

You couldn't even fathom how this was happening. You had pictured this moment late at night with a vibe pressed to your clit far too many times to count, so it finally happening was something hard to comprehend. Somehow he looked even more handsome from down on your knees than you had ever imagined he would. His stubble contouring his face perfectly with the ‘o’ his lips were forming.

Suddenly pulling you off of him, you gasped out for oxygen and tried to wipe away some of the saliva dribbling down your chin. It was like a snapshot from one of Duncan’s wet dreams. You looked so incredibly fucked out. He thought it was beautiful.

“Come on little one, stand up. Daddy wants to fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” You moaned as he talked down to you, stroking his calloused thumb over your bottom lip and pulling it down just to watch it bounce back up again.

You stood up, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders like you had wanted to all this time. He pulled you in for a kiss, one much slower than the rest, communicating something more to you than just pure sexual carnality. His embrace was comforting, making you feel protected and small in his arms.

His hands grabbed at your ass as he picked you up, sitting you back down onto the bar stool and adjusting the hight while his lips stayed connected to yours. Once the seat was low enough for his liking, he picked up your thighs, shelving them onto his hips and laying you back just enough so that you could lean on the backrest.

The room was sweltering, your body hot against his and anticipating having him buried inside you was getting too much to handle. He dragged his cock through your lips, teasing your clit and moving back down to almost enter you, but he never would. Just wanting to get you all worked up and loving the way you would squirm when he did.

“Daddy.. please.” You steadied yourself by holding on to the sides of the seat, hoping he would end his tournament and fuck you already.

He slid the head barely into you. “Hmm… Since you were so polite, suppose daddy should reward you.” He spoke calmly before snarling and stuffing himself into you, pushing as deeply as he physically could. He felt your walls clamp around him as he set his pace. It was a lot. Having never taken a cock this big and the fact he didn’t even let you adjust, you couldn’t help but wail out.

He shot his hand up to cover your mouth, needing to keep you quiet and seeing you clearly couldn’t do it yourself. “Wouldn’t want to wake up mommy now, would you baby?” you attempted to utter a “No daddy”, but his hand kept your lips glued shut.

He fucked you. Like really really fucked you. He was making the stool shuffle underneath you, the powerfulness of his thrusts causing you to slide down in the seat. The only reason you didn’t slip off completely being the barbarian hold he had on your hips.

It actually surprised you how rough he was. A pleasant surprise, of course, but he had been so delicately caring towards you since becoming your step father and now here you were, receiving the best of both worlds.

The closer you grew to your high, the more incoherent your thoughts became. His eyebrows were scrunched together, lips trembling as he picked you up off the seat and held you closer to him. Supporting your ass, his hips ricocheted up and off yours as he tried desperately not to yell out.

His thumb was brought back down to your clit as he pressed you up against him, swiping at it hellishly, trying to hurry up your release upon feeling your legs begin to quiver; and knowing his own was approaching rapidly.

“That’s it sweetheart, come around daddy’s cock… Gonna cum so fucking deep inside your cunt. Would you like that?” You could see a thin line of perspiration cascading down his cheekbone, he was almost breathless and his thrusts were messier now.

“Yes da-AHH!“ you whipped a hand up to your face, holding your mouth shut as you came. You dug the hand you had placed on his shoulder deep into his skin and was quickly reminded of his marriage to your mother. You hoped you hadn't left any nail indents she might see.

You felt his hot seed spurt onto your walls as he rested his head on yours, mouth open wide and letting out a silent groan. His release was long and powerful. The both of you were left panting, the only noise in the room being your own breaths and a small creak from the stool when he softly set you down onto it.

He pulled out, your mixed juices gushing out of you along with the sexual haze you had been overcome with. The severity of what you had just done began to settle in. His head still resting on yours as you started freaking out, contemplating what would happen if your mother was to ever find out what had just occurred.

You wrapped your arms around his back, needing his comfort and squeezing him in an urgent hug, which he returned. his fingers stroked the sweaty skin of your back, trying to ease the thoughts he too had running through his mind. He lifted your chin up, the look he had in his eyes telling you everything would be okay.

Kissing you cautiously, he savoured the feeling of your lips on his and prayed he would get a chance to feel them again. “Are you okay?” He whispered

You didn’t really know if you were. On one hand, that was something you had wanted for a long time and it had been far better than you ever imagined, but on the other you had just helped your stepfather cheat on your mother. “I don’t know. I think so.”

He stood up, grabbing your sweater and panties, handing them to you before putting his boxers back on. “Well, at least that paper won’t seem like such big problem now.” He chuckled, doing his best to find humour in a humourless situation.

You giggled a little, hurrying to throw on your sweater and being reminded of how he had ruined your panties. “True. Now this can hang over my head instead.” You wiped any left over salvia you had on your face onto your sleeve and thought about how you would probably need to shower after this. “At least the sex was worth it, right?”

He sent you a dark smirk, picking up his bottle of water and walking towards the kitchen door. “It was. hopefully it'll be just as good next time too.” You opened your mouth, faking shock at his confidence as you watched him open the door.

“Goodnight Y/N” He gave you one last look as he sauntered through the door, getting ready to close it behind him and leave you alone in the kitchen with no one but your thoughts. The thoughts of your acts. Remembering all the little moments you had just shared together.

In that last moment before he left, you struck eye contact with him, chewing your inner lip and speaking.

“Goodnight, daddy.”

●●●●●●●●

Thank you sm for reading!🥺🖤

Tags: @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby i'm so so sorry if you don't like this kinda fic or it has triggered you in anyway, but just let me know if it has and I won't tag you in this kind of thing ever again! You can also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list too:)

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Five ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pariring: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 3418

Warnings: Tw gaslighting 

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Thanks for the love on the last chapter! Happy Monday :)

My cloak is dry in the morning, thank goodness. I cozy up in it the first chance I have, grateful for the thick material that I complained about only a few days prior. I help Rumil tack his horse and then mount. He lets me steer the beast again, insisting that I need more practice. Before we set out from camp, Haldir circles his horse around to face the five of us.

“We have gone north far enough. Now, we head west. Stay sharp as we near the mountains. If you see or hear something that causes concern or even seems remotely unsettling, say something.” Murmurs of solemn agreement run through the group.

Briefly, Haldir’s eyes lock with mine. I raise an eyebrow, silently reminding him of my question from last night. He nods once, almost imperceptibly, then turns his horse. I urge my own to follow, and vaguely realize I don’t even know its name.

“Hey, Rumil?” I turn over my shoulder to glance at him, then face back to the road. I really shouldn’t look anywhere other than the path.

“Yes?”

“I never asked—what’s the horse’s name?”

Rumil snorts, patting his horse affectionately on the side. “You never asked his name because you don’t like him.”

I sputter at the accusation. “Wha—no! I don’t mind the horse—it’s fine!”

“But you don’t like the horse,” he teases, grinning broadly.

I huff, gathering as much dignity as I can. “I just don’t enjoy the height of the horse, nor the fact that he throws me around. I don’t mind the horse itself.”

My companions chuckle indulgently and Baranor gives me a playfully exasperated sigh. “Well, if he won’t tell you, I will. The horse’s name is Roch.”

“Roch,” I repeat, turning the unfamiliar name awkwardly around my tongue. “That’s not a name I recognize. Does it mean anything or was it just something you liked?”

My question is met with snickers.

I furrow my eyebrows, looking around at my friends. “What?” Then, I see the pointed looks Orophin gives the horse, and realization begins to dawn. I twist in my seat to glare unbelievingly at Rumil. “Tell me you did not name your horse, ‘Horse!’”

Pink tints Rumil’s cheeks. “I was practically an elfling when I named him!”

Orophin howls with laughter. “Do not make excuses, brother, you were fully of age!”

“Barely,” Rumil defends, voice squeaking with indignation.

This, of course, makes us all laugh even harder.

“Well then, giddyup Horse the horse.” I take a hand from the reins to pat Horse’s shoulder, then right myself once more. I spare a quick glance to Alex, who hasn’t said a word all morning, and find him glaring over Baranor’s shoulder.

He still doesn’t trust them.

You shouldn’t, either, a voice reminds me.

Pushing that thought aside, I squeeze Roch once more, encouraging him to keep pace with the group.

{***}

Exhausted from days of travel and the weather yesterday, the horses can’t manage much more than a trot for long. I can tell this frustrates my companions, but they give the horses the rest they need—Haldir eventually calling for us to slow to a walk. I take the opportunity to slide off Roch’s back and walk by myself, giving my muscles a bit of a break. Alex soon follows suit, limping slightly.

I hurry to catch up to him. “How’s your leg?”

“Healing, I think. Baranor says not to let it get dirty again and I should be fine. It’s not my leg that’s bothering me—it’s my ass! Horseback riding is no joke.”

I giggle, reaching my arms overhead as I walk. “Right! My first day here I was practically hobbled over. It does get better, though. Just keep walking and stretching when you have the chance.”

He tilts his head, giving me a sidelong look. “So, how long have you been here?”

I shrug. “Same as you, I think, based on when you say you woke up. I…” I sigh, not sure how long he’ll let me talk about our situation before he shuts me down. “I’m sorry you had to wander by yourself for a few days. It must have been scary. I know how lucky I was to have help right away.”

“It was scary.” He moves to slide his hands into his pockets, then realizes his leggings don’t have any. He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest instead. “But what I can’t figure out is why they separated us?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Well, obviously we had to be taken together. Given what we can remember, we’re really close friends. It makes no sense for our kidnappers to take us both randomly—it must have been an effort to get us together. Maybe we were traveling? Or maybe a mutual friend of ours is wealthy, and the kidnappers are trying to pull a double ransom? But regardless of why they took us, why didn’t they keep us together? Did I fall out of the car or something? Or did the police catch on and they were forced to dump us in different places to slow the cops down?”

I look at him from the corner of my eye. He’s not going to like what I’m about to say. But the differences between us and the others, the wide and unfamiliar world we find ourselves in, the new constellations…it’s getting too much to ignore. “Alex…my gut says we weren’t kidnapped.”

He whirls to face me, a slightly wild look in his eye. “What, then? Do you think we came here and got hit over the head willingly?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I—I just think that maybe…well, if we’re both here, then we can pretty much rule out a head injury or drugs or something causing our imaginations to run wild in the same way at the same time…And there’s no evidence we were kidnapped—I mean, look at who we’re traveling with. If they wanted, they could easily tie us up and throw us over the horses, but instead they’re teaching us and sharing their supplies with us. They stopped to help. And, I mean, with all that exists in space…there’s a whole universe out there…is it crazy to believe that maybe something like this is possible? That we’re in a different world?”

He’s shaking his head vehemently before I’ve even finished speaking. “Cosima, please tell me you’re smarter than that. There’s no such thing as other worlds! Where’s the evidence that this place isn’t on Earth? Huh? Logically, it has to be a kidnapping or a drugging, or maybe even some conspiracy to run experiments on us.”

“Evidence!” I bark a humorless laugh, not at all appreciating his condescending tone. “Okay, how about the armor and the landscape and the fact that our companions have pointed ears and way better senses then we do. How about the constellations that I’ve never seen before in my life? There are no cell towers, no skyscrapers — I haven’t seen train tracks or cars. Even if we were just in an isolated area of Earth, I feel like we would have heard a plane by now! Alex, there is nothing consistent with the world we know.”

He quickens his pace, fists clenching in frustration. “But we don’t have our full memories—maybe the world we remember isn’t all of it. Maybe this stuff is perfectly normal!”

“And maybe it isn’t,” I shoot back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Come on, why are you quick to dismiss taking the people who saved our lives at face value?”

“You are too trusting, Cosima! You always have been—too trusting and too naive and it’s going to get you into trouble. It already has!” His voice has risen well above polite volume and, though they could probably hear us all along due to their enhanced senses, I see four heads tilt in our direction.

Alex notices, too. He steps forward, gripping my arm and pulling me to a stop. I suck in a breath. He realizes the force behind his grip and pulls his hand away, giving me an apologetic look. “Sorry. But you have to understand—now is not the time to be friendly and accepting. I may not remember much, but I do know that I’ve always looked out for you. You know that, don’t you? So why would now be any different?”

I eye him warily, contemplating his words.

And he’s right.

In every memory I have of him, he’s nothing but kind to me, looking out for me however he can. At one point, we were inseparable. I must have trusted him then.

So perhaps I should trust him now.

He sees the shift in my resolve and knows he’s hit his mark. He draws in close once again but makes no move to touch me. “Cosi…” My eyes snap to his with the nickname and the unexpected surge of warmth that comes with it. He smiles softly. “I’m willing to bet that back home, we have people missing us. It’s our duty to do everything we can to get back to them. Don’t let yourself be deceived or distracted.”

The sound of hooves touching the ground gets nearer and I look up in time to feel the puff of warm air as Haldir’s horse exhales on top of my head. Haldir sits high, chest plate glinting in the sun and casting a bit of a glare on his face. I have to squint to see him properly. “Is everything alright?”

Both he and Alex look to me, waiting for my answer. I shift under their gazes.“Yeah.”

Haldir nods once. “Good. Keep walking or get back on a horse. We cannot lose any more time than we already have.” He turns and rides away, resuming his spot leading the group. Alex gives me a fortifying nod then signals to Baranor, pulling himself atop the mighty steed. Rumil speeds up Roch to catch up to me—he had fallen behind, watching our backs as the group became more spread out due to mine and Alex’s argument. How can I not trust him?

Rumil extends a hand down to me. “Coming up?”

But Alex is right. Somewhere, I must have a family, friends too, and I need to do all that I can to get back to them. Real or not, I cannot get sucked into this world that has both frightened and enchanted me for too long.

So, I shake my head, keeping my eyes low to the ground so no one will see how much this decision costs me. Because despite knowing that it’s the choice I have to make, it hurts me to shun my new friends. “No. I want to keep walking.”

And, for the remainder of the day, I stay on my feet, traveling alone.

{***}

I’m grateful when Haldir asks me to clean the horses’ tack. It’s a little more complicated than I anticipated, so I must concentrate, and I’m thankful for anything that can occupy my mind.

I have not felt normal since my conversation with Alex.

Every look or kind word from one of these new friends sends a wave of guilt through me, and, by nightfall, I have a stomachache. I cannot look Rumil in the eye, nor Baranor, and Haldir and Orophin mostly ignore me anyway, so maybe I’ve already ruined my relationships with them. Then, I have to wonder, is that good or bad? If they are as troubling as Alex says, then it’s good that they don’t like me. It makes my job of staying away from them easier. But if they’re as everything in me screams they are—strange, impossible, but good, then I’m a terrible person for pushing them away.

I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know whose word to take at face value. I cannot even rely on myself, as my memories are so incomplete. And, as Alex said, I do have a habit of trusting people right away. My perception of these men might be skewed just because they’ve shown me common decency. But then that begs the question…could my perception of Alex also be skewed?

I try to force the thought from my mind, concentrating even harder on eliminating every speck of dust from the leather and metal of the tack. Eventually, Orophin comes to get me, saying that it’s getting late and well past time to rest and eat dinner. I reluctantly put away my task.

He leads me nearer to the small fire and the camp that’s gathered around it. To my surprise, we have meat tonight—someone caught a hare and cooked it over the fire. Orophin crosses his legs on the ground, sitting between his two brothers, which means that only Baranor is on watch tonight.

I hover uncertainly at the edge of the group. Is it even right to sit with them, knowing that I’m questioning their character? This reminder of Alex makes me realize that he’s not here. I’m about to ask where he is—surely Haldir wouldn’t put him on watch—when I hear his voice.

“Cosima?”

I tilt my head towards the sound, seeing that he’s set up under a tree. I guess I’ll go join him, then. I turn back to the men lounging by the fire, all of whom look up at me expectantly. I swallow, shifting on my feet. “Um, I’m actually going to stay over there with Alex tonight. See you in the morning.” I give a half-wave and turn, but Rumil’s call brings me back.

“Here, at least take a bedroll.”

I shake my head, my stomachache intensifying. I can’t take any more of their kindness. “It’s fine, thank you though.”

He stands, extending the mat towards me. “No, really, it’s no trouble. We all are—”

“I said I didn’t want it, Rumil.”

He freezes at the harshness in my tone, the venom in my words, and I feel absolutely awful. He looks so shocked, like he has no idea where the sudden anger came from…he didn’t deserve it. He quickly morphs his expression into one of indifference and shrugs. The action is stilted and unnatural looking. “Suit yourself. Come back if you change your mind.”

I feel each of their eyes boring into my back as I turn away from them to walk towards Alex. Ohhh, I was so mean. They must hate me now. Rumil didn’t deserve that.

Alex greets me with a smile, so at odds with the turmoil raging within me. I sit, leaning my back against the tree. The main camp is well within my eyesight, and Orophin and Haldir stare at me. Rumil avoids my gaze, intently reorganizing his pack. Haldir catches my eye and raises a stern eyebrow, looking pointedly to his youngest brother and then back at me.

I feel a little nauseous.

I turn my gaze away, as well as my back, lying down and curling up facing the tree. “Goodnight.”

I hear the surprise in Alex’s voice. “You don’t want dinner? There’s meat tonight.”

“No.” Again, sharpness creeps into my tone. Regret twists in my stomach. I don’t feel okay. I don’t feel right at all. The tears come, and I curl further into myself, trying my best to hide the noise and the shaking. I don’t want them to know because they’re kind and they’ll try to make me feel better.

I don’t deserve to be comforted.

And, given how I feel, how the grief and indecision and anxiety tear me apart, I’m not sure they could even help.

{***}

Everyone pretty much gives me a wide berth in the morning. Even Alex, who doesn’t stray far from my side, doesn’t try to talk to me. I do my chores in silence, not feeling very social. The horses had grazed a bit during the night, though not far from Baranor’s watchful eye, and I climb over the hill to join them in the valley. Roch, used to me by now, trots up to meet me, nuzzling at my hands in the hope that I’ve brought him food. This makes me feel even worse, as I hadn’t thought to bring him a snack.

“Sorry, Horse.” I reach up to pet his nose, then let my fingers tangle in his mane, examining the braids Rumil put there.

“It’s not safe to be out here on your own.”

Though the voice is quiet, I start, not having heard Haldir come up on my left.

I take a few breaths to calm my racing heart. “The others do this all the time.”

Haldir exhales contemplatively, taking Roch’s muzzle in his hands and brushing his thumb over the soft hairs there. “The others are extensively skilled in battle and are aware of their surroundings. You are a human with no weapons who just let me sneak up on her.”

I click my tongue, playing for time. He’s got me there. “When you say ‘extensively skilled’…how extensive are you talking?”

He smiles almost indulgently. “Thousands of years.”

I gulp and renew my efforts brushing through Roch’s mane. I cannot wrap my mind around such a long time, nor reconcile it with Haldir’s smooth face. “So…that would make you…?”

“Three thousand, six hundred and thirty five years old.”

I exhale, leaning forward into Roch’s mane.

“Are you alright?”

I twist my head to see a small amount of humor dance in his eyes, and I let my exasperation be known. “That’s impossible. There’s no way someone can be over three thousand years old.”

He shrugs, calling for his own horse, Faervel, to join us. “Impossible for a human, maybe, but elves are made to live eternal lives. You and your friend are still new to this world, but you will soon catch on to its workings. Keep your eyes open—there is much to learn.”

At the mention of Alex, I purse my lips, turning my focus back to Roch. I work the bit into his mouth and try to persuade him to lower his head so I can throw the bridle over. He doesn’t budge, leaving me to contemplate the merits of jumping to accomplish my task. After a moment, a pale hand and a worn blue tunic come into my view. I step to the side, allowing Haldir and his height to finish tacking the horse. When he’s done, he turns to me, still holding the reins in his hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Uh oh. I try to match his unaffected air. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He raises an eyebrow. There’s no judgement in his eyes, but he stares into mine like he’s systematically assessing every though I’ve ever had, every decision I’ve ever made, and determining the clarity with which I will make decisions in the future. I fight the urge to look away, feeling my cheeks go hot.

“You snapped at Rumil and cried most of the night.”

“Ugh,” I close my eyes, turning my head from his scrutiny. I take a beat, trying to push away the onslaught of embarrassment. “I didn’t know you guys heard that.”

“The exchange with Rumil happened in front of everybody.”

“The crying, I mean,” I interject, holding up a hand to stop him from continuing. I hate this. I hate the way his eyes burn into mine, trying to lure me into a vulnerable conversation. I feel myself tensing up. I try to force my shoulders to fall from their spot bunched up by my neck. “It’s nothing.”

He stares me down for a moment, not even bothering to disguise the fact that he doesn’t believe me. But finally, he nods, evidently letting it go. He hands me Roch’s reins. “I expect we will reach the mountains either this evening or tomorrow morning. The closer we get, the more dangerous our journey becomes. I understand you are sensitive, but you must clear your mind and focus on the journey. You can deal with your feelings once we reach Imladris.” With that, he takes the reins of Faervel and jerks his head, beckoning me to follow him.

I huff, starting after him, completely incensed. What did he just say? “I am not sensitive!”

He throws a wry smile over his shoulder. “Forgive me, you obviously took my comment quite well.”

Grumbling, I pull Roch with me and stomp after Haldir. Maybe I won’t miss his friendship.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are the best :) Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing on Ao3! That will notify you automatically when I post there. 

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[deathonyourtongue]

Sanguine Nocturnus | 3

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : Thank you to everyone who’s been so excited and supportive of this one. I can’t even begin to tell y’all how much good stuff is in store for y’all!

The sun seemed different in Rome. Brighter, more nourishing somehow. Carla watched how the early morning light played against the soapy bubbles she brushed along her skin, smiling at the oil-slick colors and the sharp bursts of white whenever one popped. Even plain water looked different as it flowed over her, Carla admiring the little sunbursts that topped her pert nipples as the water brought goosebumps to nearly every inch of her. 

The water, so far, was her only complaint. Harder than what she was used to in New York, it had forced her to switch from her favorite shampoo to an Italian brand that promised to work even with the most mineral-deposited water; it was no wonder the locals preferred to drink bottled spring water wherever they went. Even her apartment’s size didn’t bother Carla. What her unit lacked in space, it more than made up for in natural light, French doors opened out to small verandas on each side of her corner unit, and medium-sized windows next to her front door gave Carla a scenic view of her building’s courtyard.

Stepping out of the shower, Carla took a moment to look at herself in the mirror, her smile growing in excitement as she thought about what the night would hold. Having been kind enough to give her a week to acclimate, Romulus’ owner had asked that she work her first shift on Friday the 13th. Far from being leery of the date, Carla found it only fitting given the atmosphere of the bar. Remembering she had all day to play sightseer again, she padded into her room to get dressed, only to find a big, near-blinding ray of sun sweeping across her bed. 

Dropping her towel, Carla crawled back into bed with a grin, intent on enjoying the sun for just a moment longer while the residual water dried on her legs. There was something daring about being nude just inside a second-story window, and while back home she would have drawn a crowd of gawkers in the building across the street, her view now held only the Palazzo Borghese, the blue sky, and the tans and terracottas of Rome. In short, she was in heaven. 

Since landing in Rome and settling into her apartment, Carla had decided that each day, she would pick a direction, and walk, intent on simply seeing the city as organically as possible. Some days she ended up at the Colosseum, marveling over the ruins, and others, in a little bookstore that specialized in first editions and rare finds. It kept the lonely and restless nature of her mind at bay, and in her opinion, was the best way to honor her mother’s wishes and heritage. 

Carla’s walk took her to the ruins of the Stadium of Domitian, and for the first time since arriving at Rome, her fascination for history was paralleled by an anxiety that she was wasting her degree. Having studied History at NYU, she’d always banked on getting a job at a museum or a library, but with each rejection, that dream had become further and further away. Now, with an opportunity to start anew, she wanted to try that path again. The more she walked through the ancient archways and old relics, the more confident she became that she would make something of herself, even after all this time.  

After a light lunch in the nearby piazza, Carla made her way home, stopping to grab a few things at the pharmacy and the little market near her apartment. One thing was certain, the pace in Rome was far more to her liking than home had ever been, and though the city was bustling, she didn’t feel the constant rush to get everything done like she had in New York. It eased her stress in a way she hadn’t even considered, and by the time she was back in her apartment, Carla felt light as air. 

Unsure of whether Romulus allowed their employees to eat dinner on-site, Carla made an early plate of pasta and readied herself for work. Donning black jeans, a black t-shirt, and her most trusted pair of boots, she added a deep red lip, feeling as though the color would not only act as a counterpoint to all the black, but that it would suit the mood of the bar. Nervous butterflies flitted through her stomach as she threw on a black motorcycle jacket and headed for the door, hoping she’d done enough to impress her new boss. 

Romulus’ owner, Fredo, was just as warm and complimentary in person as he’d been over the phone, and in no time, Carla had made herself at home behind the bar, grateful not only for the job, but for the fact that she had full control of her space. There were no other bartenders to contend with, no toes to step on. She was given free reign to do things her way, and that was more than enough to set her at ease. The only thing she’d been warned not to do was get rid of a drink called Sanguinem, one Carla had honestly never heard of. 

Coming in an ornate deep blue bottle with a crystal stopper, it looked like the design and marketing hadn’t changed since its inception. Curious, she’d poured herself a half shot of the stuff while on her first break and swirled it around in her mouth, spitting it out just as fast as she’d drank it. Sharp and metallic, she’d barely been able to pick up hints of blackcurrant and cherry before her mind had told her to eject the liquid. Intensely interested in finding out what kind of person would order such a foul-tasting concoction, Carla spent the first half of her shift hoping someone would order it. 

It would be two weeks before anyone did.

Despite having spoken Italian with her mother all her life, Carla had found herself freezing when she had to converse with native speakers, her mind tongue-tying her to the point where those she was speaking with often took pity on her and switched to English. Still, despite the occasional language barrier, Carla found Italians, as a whole, far more agreeable customers than their American counterparts. People were simply happy to be out and enjoying themselves, and they couldn’t be bothered to berate someone who was plying them with drinks. The laid back attitude helped her settle at Romulus, in much that same way she’d eased into Italian life in general and though there were times when her anxiety about the future still plagued her, most nights, she was too busy to even give it a second thought. 

On the first Saturday in December, Carla’s routine set of faces and orders changed, anxiety once more taking a back seat to the group of three stunning creatures that walked into Romulus unannounced, but very much known by the other customers. Carla watched, fascinated, as some of the patrons all but threw their money at her in their haste to leave, while others moved tables and seats closer to the semi-circular booth the group had chosen at their location for the night. Those who left seemed disturbed, and those who stayed, entranced. Without even needing to think about it, Carla knew she fell into the latter category; the two men and one woman all looked like demigods. 

Dressed almost too formally for the bar, the tallest of the three caught her eye first. Dark curls hung just to his brow, framing a jaw that seemed cut from marble and was nearly the same color as the statues of old. It was his eyes that took Carla’s breath away however, their shade reminiscent of tropical waters, their intensity almost neon. Wearing an all black suit with the shirt unbuttoned to reveal a thick thatch of hair, Carla was certain he could have any woman in Romulus that he so much as looked at.

His friends were no slouches either, the other man wearing a navy suit with a cream turtleneck, and the woman wearing a dress that had all the hallmarks of being couture and vintage. All three were brunettes of differing shades, their hair color setting off the pallor of their skin and the alien-like brightness of their eyes. They were, in short, immaculate. 

When the man in the turtleneck rose and made his way over to the bar, Carla forgot where she was. She watched his lips move, not hearing a word of what was said, too caught up in his overall presence to pay any attention to what was happening. It wasn’t until she realized he was waving his hand in front of her face that Carla came to her senses. Blushing, she shook her head and gave him her best smile. 

“What can I get you?” She asked, stumbling over her Italian and feeling the temperature in the room go up several notches as the man smiled back. 

“Two bottles of Sanguinem, and three chilled coupes, please.” The man’s words felt like they were coming from inside her own head and Carla was once more left rooted into place, unable to process how he could make himself be heard so clearly over the din of the music and other patrons. 

Blinking hard, she moved to grab the bottles, glad that she’d done her prep work prior to opening and that she had several of each kind of glass in the chiller, ready to go. Carla made a mental note of the type of stemware that paired with the drink, wondering if there’d be any variation in how it was taken; straight, on the rocks, or with a twist. 

The man in the turtleneck nodded his thanks, tapping one long finger against the list next to the till,  on top of the name Vinicius. Nodding her understanding that he had a tab with the bar, Carla watched as he headed back to the table and began to serve the other two, her glance quickly moving towards the dancefloor when all three of them turned to look at her with their piercing gazes.

[angstyaches]

first of all, hi! found you today and i’m obsessed! for a christmas or general drabble, what about a character just absolutely overwhelmed by the holiday snafu? i’m imagining charlie, but whoever you think it most fits - on top of an already anxious tummy & mind, the lights are too bright, the chatter too loud, it’s too crowded, it’s too hot and too much. cue overstimulation, a sick belly, and lots of sweet, grounding comfort (of ofc getting whisked out of there). tysm for your stories! 💖

I would have LOVED to write this for Charlie, but Shayne is so much more likely to react like this. And I pushed it to New Year’s, since I ran out of time for the Christmas drabbles. Thank you so much for the adorable prompt 🖤

CW: anxiety, alcohol mention, self-deprecating thoughts, mention of homophobia, overwhelmed character, emeto

_

“Shayne?”

My relatives are noisy, but they’re sweet, for the most part, Charlie had said.

“Hey, Shayne?”

I haven’t even come out to them, so they’re probably not gonna ask if you’re my – well, they’re not gonna ask anything like that, Charlie had said, before getting embarrassed and looking away.

A gentle hand touched Shayne’s arm, making him jump on the spot. Shayne blinked at it, and then at Charlie. His blue eyes were shiny with concern.

The look made Shayne’s stomach feel funny; it was like a hundred weights had just been released from under his ribs, and they were all dropping through his belly at the same time. The more he thought about it, the more he realised this feeling had been lingering for a while, waiting for the right moment to make him feel like the ground was swaying beneath him.

Charlie nodded towards Trevor, who was standing just in front of them. “What do you want to drink?”

Gathering the will with some effort, Shayne looked up at Trevor, who was waiting patiently with a hand over his wallet. Shit. How long had he been spaced out for?

“Sorry, um – can I just get some water, please?”

“’Course,” Trevor nodded. “And a Fanta and rum, Charlie?”

“Yep! Thanks, Dad. We’ll grab a table.”

Shayne pressed a hand to his stomach as he followed Charlie across the room, despairing quietly at the fact that the sinking feeling wasn’t going away. His legs felt a little shaky too, and he couldn’t wait to sit down and try to calm himself.

They passed so many tables – all complete with piles of paper coasters and little “no smoking” plaques – that Shayne couldn’t figure out what Charlie’s criteria could possibly include. The place was empty for now, but soon it would fill up with the members of Charlie’s family – from Trevor’s side, Ingrid’s side, and Trevor’s ex-wife’s side. Shayne couldn’t picture how many people would be there, but there was seating for at least sixty.

Finally, Charlie located a suitable table, and they both sat close to the wall, on the cushioned bench.

Charlie shrugged off his coat, which was light denim on the outside and white fake fur on the inside. There was an artificial heat in the hired function room, but Shayne didn’t want to relinquish the layer of protection that was his own jacket; it was just synthetic leather, but he knew he’d feel even more anxious if he took it off.

What he wanted was to put his head down on the table and wait for the awful feeling in his stomach to pass, but the thought of drawing attention to himself, or making Charlie worry about him, kept him from doing so.

He also resisted the urge to try and work the tension out of his body by cracking his jaw, and settled for slinking a little lower in his seat and putting his hands in his pockets. Charlie’s silence was freaking him out a bit; Shayne wondered if he was dwelling on their earlier conversation as much as he was. Maybe it was just him, but it felt like everything they’d never discussed was hanging around them like a heavy cloud.

His stomach did a little flip as he worked himself up to ask; “You okay?”

Charlie’s gaze diverted across the room, and a sick-looking grimace crossed his face. “I was better about ten seconds ago. My great-aunt Ursula just got rolled in.”

Shayne hesitantly turned his head. At the entrance to the function room, an old lady in a wheelchair was, indeed, being pushed through the pub, surrounded by a group of people ranging from early twenties to mid-fifties.

“Wildly homophobic,” Charlie sighed. There was a hint of resigned humour in his voice, but the statement still made Shayne’s stomach turn over again.

Several groups seemed to have arrived at the same time and were still greeting each other; some were kissing one another on the cheek and hugging, and every one of them was emitting a noise of some kind. A few had small children pulling at their legs, while the older children were glued to phones.

“You wanna meet everyone in one go? Get it over and done with?” Charlie asked. “Baptism of fire?”

Shayne’s stomach dropped so hard that he felt a slight retch pull at the back of his throat. He couldn’t, in that moment, think of anything he wanted to do less, but he couldn’t exactly voice that to Charlie. In the same way, he couldn’t have turned down the invitation to the party, not while he was the Waters’ guest. It seemed he couldn’t do anything without coming across as cold and rude and grumpy and...;

“Or you can stay and guard our table,” Charlie half-laughed.

“Would that be okay?” Shayne knew it was the wrong answer, and he gave it anyway.

“Sure, don’t worry about it.” Charlie slid off the bench and circled around to the front of the table. “I’ll be back in a few. Dad should be over with the drinks soon, too.”

Shayne sank a little lower on the bench as he watched Charlie go. He wanted Charlie to glance back at him on the way, but he didn’t, and anyway, he was being such an asshole he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t even deserve a glance. Probably didn’t deserve the water he’d asked for, or the warm food Ingrid had served up before they’d all left for the party.

Looking like the moodiest, most out-of-place person in a room that suddenly held about forty, Shayne wished he could be in any mindset but the one he was currently in.

Unfortunately, mindsets didn’t quite work like that, and this one kept him on edge for the duration of the party. Although for Shayne, it was less of a party and more like a prolonged, torturous countdown to the new year. He hung out with Charlie when he could, but as the night wore on, he saw less and less of him. Between brief introductions to people whose names went right over his head, and short encounters with energetic little kids who had clearly been given too many fizzy drinks, Shayne was positive that he’d met more people in those few hours than he had in the past entire year of his life.

He was grateful that Charlie didn’t seem to expect him to hang around anyone for too long, but he was also disappointed in himself for taking every escape that was offered to him. Charlie was so bright and happy and social, and his family all seemed to adore him so much; meanwhile, Shayne was his weird friend wearing all black and slinking off to the corner at every opportunity.

He also let Charlie drag him out to dance a couple of times, but it was nothing like the little dancing sessions Felix sometimes held at the townhouse; Shayne could barely bring himself to dance in private, let alone here, in front of so many strangers. In front of Charlie.

Feeling out of place was bad enough, but even worse than that was that his belly had stopped dropping, and had started to hurt quite a lot. The very last thing he wanted was to end up locked in the bathroom throwing up, but between meeting so many people and navigating the now darkened, disco-light-laden function room, it was getting hard to control the nausea. A DJ had set up in the room a few hours ahead of the midnight countdown, and the music was so, so loud. Shayne couldn’t understand why it needed to be so fucking loud –

“Got you a Sprite!”

He looked up from the table to see a blue light cast over Ingrid’s face as she sat in a chair opposite him.

“I’ll get you something stronger, if you want it!” she yelled over the music, leaning over the table a little. “I’m the designated driver, but I’m happy to drink vicariously through you.”

Shayne tried for an amused hum and shook his head as he took the glass of sparkling clear liquid from her. “I’m good, thank you.”

“It’s shit, isn’t it? The party.” Ingrid rolled her eyes at herself as soon as the words were out. “I can’t wait to get out of here, once the countdown is done. If we can both hang in there until then, we’ll grab Charlie and make our escape. How’s that sound?”

Shayne nodded, sipping gratefully on the drink she’d brought him. Leaving right after midnight sounded wonderful. The cold bubbles settling in his stomach felt good, too, and so did knowing that he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait to leave.

As Ingrid flashed him a smile over her own glass, he wondered if this was the point where Charlie would tell his mother he was feeling sick, and sad, and overwhelmed. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to take him home, and let him stay there forever instead of sending him back to the Aldridges.

He was broken out of his thoughts when the woman at the next table, who was holding a baby, reached over and tapped Ingrid on the shoulder. Ingrid turned in her chair and exclaimed the woman’s name – which Shayne immediately forgot – and the two of them started chatting close to each other’s ears.

Shayne finished his drink and sat back in his seat. With nothing else to focus on, the music seemed to blare even harder from the speakers, drumming through his head like something was physically beating against either side of his skull. The heaving sounds seemed to rattle his insides too, and the lyrics he couldn’t quite make out hurtled dizzyingly through his head.

Suddenly, the DJ was speaking too, his voice booming through the microphone; as impossible as it seemed, his words were louder than the music itself.

“Alright, folks, we’ve got ninety seconds until midnight.”

Shayne looked up, instantly needing to close his eyes for a few seconds as coloured lights swung over the table – purple, then red, and then a sickly-bright yellow – before scattering across the small dancefloor area.

The handful of Charlie’s relatives who were dancing ranged from pre-teen cousins attempting to perform a routine in-sync, and aunts and uncles swaying over glasses of alcohol. Everyone else was standing by the bar or lingering near tables, leaning in and tucking hair behind their ears as they tried to have conversations over the music. They all started to gather a little more tightly now that the countdown was imminent, and the excitement in the room was almost electric.

Shayne didn’t feel excited. He felt like he wanted to cry.

Ingrid raised her eyebrows as he got to his feet and got out from behind the table. He paused and leaned back over to tell her;

“I’m going to find Charlie.”

“Alright, hon!” Ingrid winked and gave a little wave. “See you in the new year, eh?”

_

He found Charlie in the lobby, where some of the younger party guests were pulling at his legs and trying to tackle him to the ground. He had a girl of about six years old in his arms, balanced against his hip. Shayne wasn’t sure how Charlie’s relatives had so many children, or how Charlie seemed to have become a babysitter for the duration of the party.

“Hey,” Charlie grinned as he lowered the little girl to the ground, letting her tear away after her brother. Or cousin. Shayne didn’t have a good grasp on how all of these people were related. “Go find your mammy for the countdown, okay?”

The kids pushed at each other and laughed as they ran back towards the function room, shoes slapping hollowly on the carpeted floor. They didn’t even glance at Shayne as they rounded him, as though he was just a statue.

“Sorry, I was going to come and find you, but I completely lost track of the time,” Charlie laughed. He gave a deep sigh and his smile faltered. “You been doing okay?”

The hollow, sick feeling in his stomach made Shayne hesitate. Even here, where the air was a little cooler and everything was a little quieter, nothing was calming down in his head or in his belly.

Charlie’s face was falling, and he was coming closer. Shayne had to decide if he was going to lean in or pull back, and all of the possibilities of how each of these options would play out went hurtling through his head.

“I…”

Voices began chanting from the function room.

Ten, nine –

A sharp pull of some dark, twisting emotion in his tummy made him wince, and in a last-bid attempt to escape everything, to just disappear, to cease existing, he lifted his hands to his face and just covered his eyes.

Eight –

He didn’t disappear.

Instead, he felt Charlie embrace him gently, without wrapping his arms all the way around. He held him through seven, six, five –

“Charlie?” Shayne whispered, nausea and tearfulness causing his voice to come out sounding deep and slightly hoarse.

Four –

“I - I can’t.”

Three –

Charlie nodded. “Let’s go outside.”

Shayne was pretty sure he had never gripped Charlie’s hand as hard as he did now. He was definitely sure that he’d never wished harder that he could be someone else. Someone who wouldn’t get completely overwhelmed by a roomful of people who were literally just yelling out numbers.

Two –

Someone who wouldn’t have burst into tears by the time they got to the front entrance of the hotel, where glass doors opened out into a streetlight-hazed carpark. Where the chaos from inside seemed to fade away into nothingness, as though the party – as though New Year’s Eve itself – had suddenly been cancelled.

Charlie let out a small noise of confusion as Shayne’s hand slipped free of his. He let out a slightly louder noise as Shayne turned towards one of the prickly, waxy-leaved bushes and doubled over, coughing up water and Sprite and whatever he’d eaten of Ingrid’s casserole before they’d left home.

He cried harder the more he retched, and he began to choke on the sobs as the heaving stopped and the crying continued.

He was shivering and hugging himself by the time Charlie took him by the arm and guided him to the edge of the curb by the taxi pick-up point. Even after being sick, he still had that dreadful feeling, like he was falling from a hundred stories high. He buried his head under his arms as they sat down, pulling his knees up to his chin.

“Shayne.” Charlie moved a little closer, so that their shoulders brushed slightly against one another. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

The sound of Charlie’s voice should have been soothing, but it only seemed to add guilt on top of everything bad he was already feeling.

“I promise, everything is fine,” Charlie whispered. His fingertips began to work their way through Shayne’s hair, searching for the warmth of the nape of his neck.

The touch was light, but made it a little easier to focus. Shayne managed to close his eyes without frowning.

“Everything’s fine,” Charlie said again, tracing tiny circles just above the collar of Shayne’s jacket. “Did - did you just start feeling sick all of a sudden?”

“Mmm, no.” Shayne shivered as Charlie stroked his neck, hating himself for enjoying something he didn’t deserve. “My stomach’s been feeling weird since we got here. Nervous.”

Charlie gave a light sigh. “It’s okay. A lot of people don’t do well with crowds and noise.”

“It’s not just that, though. I’m not –” The swirling emptiness was creeping up into Shayne’s chest now, and his arms and legs felt impossibly heavy. “I’m not… I’m not enough for you, Charlie.”

“For me?” Charlie chuckled softly, resting his forehead against Shayne’s shoulder. “Lovely, I – I think about this all the time. I always think that I’m never going to be strong enough, or brave enough, to be worthy of you.”

Shayne gulped back a sob and picked up his head, even though Charlie’s face was still hidden against his shoulder.

“That’s –” Shayne sniffed and blinked tears from his eyelashes. The sobs in his throat melted into something that felt like low, wobbly laughter. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

Charlie was grinning when he lifted his face, tiny creases outlining the corners of his eyes. A light blush coloured his cheeks. “See what I mean?”

Shayne shrugged as he brushed tears away with his sleeves. His brain was firing all the wrong things in all the wrong directions. The epiphany wasn’t happening, and he felt that somehow, he was letting Charlie down yet again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I even made us miss the fucking countdown.”

“That’s okay. It’s not important.” Charlie shrugged, fingertips tracing down Shayne’s forearm before gliding into the palm of his hand. “We can have our own countdown, if you want.”

Shayne glanced away, at nothing in particular. “What, now?”

Charlie nodded. “From three, okay? Three.”

He looked at Charlie again, noticing how intensely he was watching him. He tightened his fingers around Charlie’s, brushing his thumb back and forth across a knuckle. “Two?”

Charlie’s eyes darted downwards before his lips parted. “One.”

“Happy New Year, Charlie.” Shayne was just thinking how he wished he hadn’t just thrown up; otherwise he might have maybe considered thinking about –

Charlie’s lips closed over Shayne’s, the movement careful and slow. Each of their breaths pulled sharply, and then Shayne jerked back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand that wasn’t tangled up with Charlie’s. He looked at Charlie’s shy smile and realised the new feeling rising up in him wasn’t quite nausea or anxiety, but something a lot softer. Fluttery. Happy.

“Happy New Year, lovely,” Charlie whispered.

[sokkasssboomerang]

Iroh’s Daughter HC

This is me at 3am writing things that are on my mind, its my first time doing any of this stuff so sorry if its super bad! feedback is always welcome! Thanks for reading

-You were the daughter of Iroh, cousin of Zuko and Azula, Niece to Ozai and Ursa (however you want to take it)

-Ofc being the daughter of Iroh meant you were so well loved, by Iroh and Lu Ten.There was nothing that could separate your loving family 

-well that’s a lie, Ozai could. Ozai always despised you, its more because you were a non-bender the same age as Azula

-Although you seemed to have a clear disadvantage against Azula, you always matched her in fights. As in, you and Azula were perfectly balanced, no one could beat the other

-but no one really seemed to mind it. Did it still make Ozai and Azula upset? yes but they never did anything about it

-That was until you beat Azula in a match once. It was a shock to Ozai and Azula (the only ones there)

-unfortunately for you, your father and brother were off at Ba Sing Se in the war and were not there to witness your victory, but Ozai was there, and he was NOT happy

-he hired some hit-man to kill you that same day you beat Azula, you were only 10 but he didn’t care. It was a plan that only he and Azula knew about, no one else.

-you were lucky enough to catch the hit-man by surprise as they were talking about Ozai with the money they earned and make a getaway, but with your father and brother in Ba Sing Se, you knew you couldn’t go back to the palace. 

-So you hid in the capital city, waiting for the day you could go back to the palace with your family but that day never came, as you heard about your brother’s death, you were heartbroken. you had still stuck around but decided to escape when you heard that Ozai became firelord. 

-You ran off to a small village in the earth Kingdom, Chin Village. Thats where you became friends with the Avatar and the two water tribe siblings. You helped the Gaang restore Kyoshi’s image and helped them fight the fire nation soldiers.

-After that you all became fast friends, Sokka even claimed you as his newly adopted sibling, and the group brought you as you all traveled the world together. It really did not take much convincing from their part to get you to come because you always hated that town even though you were thankful for its protection over the past 4 years. 

-When Toph joined the group, you and her hit it off immediately. You both loved to make tease and play pranks on the other members of the group. For the first time in a long you truly felt at peace, you had found your home. 

-But things took a sharp turn when the gaang was chased by Azula, Ty-lee and Mai. It had been 4 years and although they have not changed much, the sleepiness in you didn’t give you the opportunity to register who you were facing. 

-That was until you had split up the group, you and Aang in the deserted town while Katara and Sokka took Appa. 

-When you first saw Azula, you did not believe your eyes. You never imagined seeing her again, rather yet, fight again. She was overjoyed with the sight of you, she had been waiting 4 years for this rematch. 

-Although you hate to admit it, you would have been dead if it was a one-on-one with Azula, she took these past years and trained vigorously, whereas you can barely remember the last time you did a sit up. If it weren’t for Aang, you do not know how long you would have lasted against her. 

-Seeing Zuko was a shock as well, he really just popped up out of no where. 

-if you thought seeing Zuko was surprising then seeing your old man might have made you passed out from the shock, but it probably would have ended horrible given the circumstances. 

-Iroh was shocked to see you as well, so shocked that he was still staring at you when Azula caught him off guard and shot lightning at his body. 

-seeing your father fall to the ground was heart wrenching, you hadn’t even said a word to him yet and he appeared to be dying right in front of you. You cried and begged Katara to heal him but alas Zuko refused, he did not even let you get close to your dad. 

-Zuko yelled about how you never cared to reach out to him for 4 years and refused to let you stay and “pretend to start caring now”. He even threw rapid fireballs at you when you inched closer to Iroh, forcing the group to pull you away and towards Appa.

-You were silent for weeks after the incident, not knowing if Iroh was dead or alive killed you, he was the last person left of your family. It broke your heart knowing you did not spend enough time with him. 

-But alas you knew deep down that Iroh is strong and that he would make it, so after some weeks you finally sat down at the fireplace with the Gaang and told them the truth, not that you lied before, you just never really told them your past. 

-You expected them to yell at you, banish you, hell even murder you. How could they not? The crown Princess of the fire nation sat next them, the Princess to a nation that hated them.

-Instead Sokka burst into tears, crying about how brave you were and how he couldn’t believe (arguably his favorite) little sibling had gone through so much and he cried into Katara’s shoulder as she tried to console him. When Katara looked at you, you knew that she understood you and was not upset at you for hiding your past. 

-Aang looked so shocked yet he told you how proud he was of you and your bravery, while Toph yelled about how cool and badass you were and she went on to rant about how shes going to pummel Azula and Ozai to the ground if Aang does not do it first

-Right then and there at the fireplace, as you watched the scene unfold in front of you, you realized that you truly have found yourself a new home and family and you weren’t going to let go of this family anytime soon. You had already been separated by your first family and you were going to do anything to keep this one together. 

-That’s why when Appa was kidnapped you were furious, almost as furious as Aang, ofc you can never share a bond like Appa and Aang, but that didn’t stop you from scarring the sand benders and having them running with their tail in between their legs. You marched all the way to Ba Sing Se and little did you know that would be the best choice you ever made in your life.

-While in Ba Sing Se, you never stopped looking for Appa and on one long stressful day, you had gotten into an argument with the cabbage man for putting the missing poster on his cart. After that long argument, you really craved some tea to calm your mind. So you headed to the Jasmine Dragon, the infamous tea shop that caught the eye of a lot of upper ring folk.

-Before you even entered the shop, your eyes landed on Zuko and Iroh. Your first instinct was to run, that was the fastest you ever ran in your life. You ran straight to the house that the Gaang lived and hid in your bedroom for the next day, trying to come up with a plan. 

-In the end, you decided to go back to the Jasmine Dragon. You told yourself you were going to keep an eye on Zuko but really, you missed your dad and really really wanted some of his tea. 

-So the next day, you left the house secretly in well designed disguise, you gave yourself fake bangs and covered half your face. When you were sure no one would recognize you, you crept out the front door and made your way to the tea shop. 

-It did not take long for Zuko to make it to your table after you sat down, luckily for you, he did not suspect a thing. Though he did find it odd that you had your hair styled different than all the upper ring folk. Zuko did not suspect a thing the entire time you were there. And thats why you kept coming back to the tea shop.

-Everyday you came in and ordered Iroh’s tea which you did not realize you missed so much. As clueless as Zuko was to your identity, Iroh easily found out who you were.

-Although Iroh usually stayed in the back making the tea, this particular day was extremely busy in the shop. So Iroh decided to get to know some more customers and deliver tea himself. 

-He casually came by the tables and talked his way through the shop. When Iroh came by your table, you made eye contact with him and he could recognize those eyes anywhere, even with bangs covering most it. His eyes bulged out of his sockets and he had a shocked face, but he quickly recovered himself. Iroh was grateful that he already set the tea on the table or else he knew it would have spilled everywhere. 

-He did not mention your true identity and played along with your act, and you did not suspect that he knew a thing. So you kept coming back to the shop, becoming his number one customer. You had no clue Iroh was aware of your true identity, even when he asked you to stay after closing time and sit and have tea with him. You thought it was because you were such a loyal customer, secretly those days where you stayed behind were your favorite days.

-You and Iroh spent hours talking about what happened in the past, he found it as a wonderful way to learn about what you have been up to in the past 4 years and you were just grateful to finally be able to sit down and talk to him again that you did not want to overthink anything. You loved spending time with Iroh, and occasionally Zuko as he would sometimes pull a chair and sit down as well. 

-There was one day where you sat with Iroh and you were talking about your time in Chin Village, and Iroh not being able to hold back asked you about how you ended up there. (Because all he knew was what Ozai told everyone, you and Azula were dueling, you had lost and out of shame you ran away.)

-You were shocked that he asked for the story, it never occurred to you that Iroh would not know of that traumatic experience. But you also did not really want to relive and explain it, because in your mind you would be giving away who you were (even though Iroh already knew but you didnt know that he knew), that’s why you were glad that Zuko was clumsy enough to drop a tea cup in the backroom. 

-After that day, Iroh never mentioned the past, he decided to wait until you were ready to share. However Zuko was curious about you, a customer who comes in alone and shares tea with his uncle for long hours after closing. He wanted to know why you were so mysterious. So he asked

-Iroh was telling a story about pirates and the southern raiders, when Zuko walked up and interrupted Iroh and bluntly asked if you had family. Though you were surprised by the sudden question, you felt ready to answer. 

-So you sat there and explained how you lost half your family, and had an uncle that tore you away from your family, and how you abandoned your father, who probably hates you now after seeing you with his enemy and by the end of it you were ugly crying. 

-Iroh looked at you with sad eyes and said “I never hated you” and you just stared at him. like really, it took a whole minute before you spoke, then you nearly screamed “how long did you know?!” to which he explained that he could spot your eyes a mile away. 

-and you finally got that fatherly hug you really missed from Iroh....and then another group hug with Zuko because he needed comfort after hearing about what his dad did

Lmao this took me an hour, it is probably hella sucky but i just really wanted to get this out of my system, anyways thanks for making it this far! I really considered adding some Gaang at the end when yo tell them you found Iroh but idk if i should've. Sorry if i made you lose some braincells, haha. Have a great day/night thanks for reading

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

hello lia! just here to remind you how much i adore you and your content. i was wondering, since you seem to be very much aboard the logince train right now but seeing as you're still captaining the losleep ship - has brain been offering up anymore rolosleep? thought i'd give you an opportunity to ramble about them, if you wanted :) have a nice weekend! - ✨🌟

ROLOSLEEP YOU SAY

well if i’ve been given an opportunity it really would be rude to pass it up-

this ship is best summed up as ‘two chaotic fools + a braincell who is coincidentally the only reason they’re still alive’

logan loves remy and roman dearly but that doesn’t make them any smarter

not that they’re dumb, of course, they’re both very smart, they just... don’t like to apply their smartness often

aka

they also lack common sense

logan helps keep them alive and they are both very grateful for this

they all have different things in common

for logan and roman it’s poetry + classic literature (especially plays)

it leads to a lot of good-natured debates between the two of them

it also leads to them killing remy a lot

if they use poetry on each other, the other will simply respond with more poetry and it will become a battle

if they use poetry on Remy, they become a gay mess and die

for logan and remy it’s video games

roman likes them too but logan and remy get DEEP in lore for them

remy likes them a lot bc they burn their energy so they can sleep and logan likes learning the strategies of them

and ofc, as said, they both like getting deep into the lore of the games and learning every thing they can about them

they have many inside jokes bc of this that roman doesn’t understand but it’s okay bc he thinks it’s cute nonetheless

for remy and roman it’s chaos fashion

all the types of fashion- make-up, hair, clothing, shoes, everything!

why yes this does include the beautiful fashion of sweats and oversized shirts

they like to do each other’s make-up and paint each other’s nails and do stupid things to their hair and if they’re allowed to go to the mall they will be there for hours just to try on  e v e r y t h i n g  in the store

sometimes logan will tease them about this and they’ll say ‘but lo we have to be pretty :(’

and logan will kiss their cheeks and tell them they’re already pretty and no matter how many times he says it remy and roman never flush any less

ofc... for all the good things they share... they share less than good ones too

roman and logan share overworking

roman mostly does it on accident- caught up in an idea, he loses track of time and doesn’t remember to stop to rest or eat or anything

he does it on purpose a few times too, tho, normally when he feels like he isn’t creating enough and pushes himself even when he knows he needs to rest

logan almost always does it on purpose, sadly- he’s aware of his limits, but in his attempts to keep up with work (even when he’s plenty caught up) he’ll often ignore those limits and keep working

remy has become skilled in both figuratively and literally dragging the two of them away from their work as a result

logan and remy share sleep deprivation

logan normally ends up with it as a result of overworking, but there have been nights where he’ll just... stay up. no clear reason aside from that he just doesn’t want to/can’t go to bed

remy does it more regularly

it’s normally due to drinking too much coffee or insomnia, but too much energy + too many thoughts can also be causes

they normally play video games through the night when this happens- a problem for when logan’s also up, since more often than not remy will let him join the game and then neither of them’s going to sleep that night

luckily, roman is very warm and a very good hugger/cuddler, so if he can catch either of them staying up he can normally get them to sleep or at least rest by cuddling them

remy and roman share insecurity

roman easily gets insecure over his work- is it good enough? is it good at all? has he created enough? will he ever create enough?

he also gets insecure over his personality- is he too much? is he too loud, too dramatic, too out there? does he annoy everyone?

remy gets insecure more over lack of their own work- logan’s so smart and roman’s so talented, after all, and they’re... just them. they don’t contribute anything to the world or to their relationship

a majority of their confidence + flirty attitude + etc is to cover the fact that they really don’t think they’re worth anything

logan loves both of them very much, however, and if they’re feeling too insecure he can and will Kill their insecurities with love and facts

angst aside

these bois like to CUDDLE

roman’s naturally cuddly, and both logan and remy are lowkey touch starved

they can’t be left together for longer than five seconds without ending up wrapped around each other

their friends think this is ‘weird’ and ‘kinda clingy’ but they know their friends are just jealous

they also like kisses!!

roman’s a sucker for back of hand/palm kisses but he’s happy to pepper his partner’s faces in kisses too

logan likes to kiss his partner’s heads + foreheads but will kiss the tips of their noses to Kill Them on occasion

remy just does all the kisses. face, head, neck, hands- if they can smooch they will smooch

there is a difference for lip kisses tho

logan’s normally okay for brief little ones but never more, remy’s always good for lip kisses but only sometimes down for making-out, and roman is ALWAYS down for lip kisses and making-out but he RESPECTS HIS PARTNERS’ BOUNDARIES

this does, however, mean that when remy’s in the mood to make-out logan will not be getting either of his partners’ attention for at least half an hour

for the sake of my heart i must also note it never goes further than making out- they’re all ace, remy + roman being sex-repulsed and logan being sex-neutral. they like to cuddle kiss and sometimes make out- that’s all

slightly random but important tangent: they can all break into their house and every room in their house

remy can open any window- locked or not-, logan can lockpick any door, and roman can and will break down any door/window

this is mostly so none of them can isolate themselves but also bc remy and roman often forget their keys and logan can’t always save them

that tangent aside, a new one: how they got together

roman and remy were dating first, and logan was their friend who kept them from doing every thing they wanted to do, aka, kept them alive

and then somewhere along the way... he accidentally fell in love with them

whoops

he kept the lid on it pretty well at first

but then remy one day was reallllly tired and they kissed logan’s cheek while the three of them were hanging out

roman pulled remy away and rushed to apologize about how remy gets extra affectionate when tired and they also have a tendency to mix up who their dating and who they’re not

except logan just blushed and mumbled something about how he didn’t mind and... well... that’s Gay

for a while, logan and roman were metamours of remy, but logan already loved roman and roman’s gay and dramatic and logan knows poetry so, really, it was only a matter of time before they started dating as well

i could probably say more but my wrist’s starting to hurt something fierce so i’m cutting it off there

[nerdzzone]

Luckless Romance

Summary: When Whitney Taylor was lucky enough to get the job of a lifetime doing a photoshoot for Marvel Studios, she didn’t expect to come away from the experience with a new friend. Especially not a friend that she quickly fell head over heels for.

Convinced that those feelings were completely one sided, she kept them to herself - until one night changed everything.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Prequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy + -More Hearts Than Mine-

Note: While this is set before the other two parts of this story, I would definitely recommend reading the other two first if you haven’t already. I know that might seem odd, but I do think it flows better that way. This is more of an aside than an introduction, I think, but it could just be that I wrote them in this order so that’s how it makes sense to me.

Anyway! Thank you to everyone who has been eagerly awaiting this part of their story. The support has been so motivating and I’m already working on more little snippets of their lives together that should hopefully be posted soon.

Please let me know what you think! 

_____

August 2015

Growing up in Los Angeles - especially with a rather well known uncle - I was very aware that celebrities were really just normal people who usually weren't deserving of the obsessive adoration they received from the general public.

That being said, it still felt very surreal when I found myself sitting around a table with some of Hollywood's biggest stars as we celebrated the end of a long and tiring photo shoot in which I was the photographer. Three weeks earlier, I had been slaving away at a department store portrait studio taking boring, uninspired family photos, so the contrast between that and where I was now - sharing drinks with the cast of Marvel's next big movie after wrapping my first real photography gig - would be enough to make anyone feel a tad awestruck.

It didn't help that it had all come together so quickly that I'd hardly had time to wrap my head around it. The photographer that they originally had lined up to do the shoot had some kind of family emergency and had to drop out at the last minute. They were going to postpone the shoot indefinitely, but my family connections with Iron Man provided another solution. My uncle Rob wasted no time in giving Marvel my name and portfolio and less than twenty-four hours later I was signing a contract for the biggest career opportunity I'd ever had.

I was endlessly grateful - the pay was far better than I was getting at the department store and there was plenty of potential for more Marvel related photo shoots in the future - but the pressure was nerve wracking. I'd hardly slept at all in the few days leading up to it and by the time we wrapped, I was exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and the relief that I survived kicked in, I was very much looking forward to crawling into my bed with a nice glass of wine to get a good night's sleep before I started the editing process the next day.

But there was no time for rest with this crowd and it was quickly decided that we were all going out for some kind of unofficial wrap party. The official one had been two weeks before when they'd finished filming in Georgia, but now that they were reunited in L.A., it seemed another celebration was necessary. I'd protested at first and tried to sneak off before they could realize I was gone, but my uncle thwarted my plan and, after a few minutes of heavy guilting about how long it had been since I'd spent any time with him, I reluctantly agreed.

Which was how I found myself sitting at a table in a private room of a popular bar with my uncle - Robert Downey Jr - my Aunt Susan, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johannsen and Paul Rudd. There were other cast members and their friends dotted around the room, some sitting by the bar while others played pool, and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I'd been given a chance to join this team of incredibly talented people in some small way.

I was also taking a moment to be grateful that my placement in the booth we were sitting in gave me the opportunity to be sandwiched between the wall and Chris Evans - who smelt so good that it should probably be illegal.

There'd been a spark between us all day. He was attractive - I'd known that going in, it was a pretty beautiful cast - but seeing him in person with all his Captain America muscles was really quite a sight.

But it was more than just that.

There was something about the way he looked at me, flashing me those blush inducing smirks along side his teasing comments and the way he was so genuinely kind and polite to me throughout the whole day. I was sure that my uncle had warned them that this was my first high profile shoot, but Chris had been incredibly supportive and he never came across as condescending if he offered me any suggestions. He checked in with me throughout the day to make sure that I wasn't getting too overwhelmed and it was very much appreciated despite the fact that his effortless flirting often left me more distracted than productive.

Sitting next to him now, feeling his thigh pressed against mine due to the tight squeeze needed to fit our whole group around the table, had me very distracted again until my uncle dragged me back into the conversation.

"So, Whitney, how's Trent?"

His question, or more likely the displeasure in his voice when he asked it, captured the attention of the table and all eyes were on me as I shrugged.

"He's great as far as I know, but I haven't talked to him in a while," I admitted. "We broke up a couple of months ago."

"Thank god for that," Robert grinned. "It's about time!"

"Don't be insensitive," Susan scolded him, which probably would have been deserved if I didn't know how accurate of a statement it was. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I think she means 'what horrible thing did he do that finally made you come to your senses'?"

Susan swatted at her husband, but I cringed at the memory.

"It was really bad. I don't even want to tell you."

His jaw tightened at that remark as his glee shifted to something more like concern.

"What did he do? Do I need to assemble my team of Avengers and kick his ass?"

I giggled at the thought of that happening as all the men around the table voiced their willingness to help.

"Thank you, but no, I'd rather you didn't," I assured them. "It wasn't anything horrific, it's just embarrassing that I ever went out with someone as sleezy as he was."

Chris glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Well, in that case, you gotta tell us now..."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement and I, rather foolishly, looked at my uncle for support, but all I received was a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. So, against my better judgment and with a sigh of shame and regret, I explained.

"He took me out for drinks on my birthday and invited some woman that he met on Tinder to join us," I informed them. "Apparently, without my knowledge, he'd advertised that we were looking for someone to join us for a threesome that night which was his birthday gift to me."

There was a collective widening of eyes and, after approximately two seconds of stunned silence, a howl of laughter came from my uncle. The rest of the group, however, seemed unsure what to say until Paul spoke up.

"Well, was that was you asked for?"

"No!" I shrieked in protest. "I mean, to each their own, but no! Absolutely not!"

My uncle looked like he was about to cry from laughter as the rest of the group joined in with him. All except for Chris, who was biting back a smile with what seemed to be a considerable amount of effort.

"Guys, c'mon, don't laugh at that!" He scolded them. "That's horrible!"

"Oh, don't feel too bad for her," Robert warned him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "The guy took her to Hooters on their first date and she still agreed to see him again."

It was true and looking back, I had no way to justify such a poor choice. I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a long sip from the gin and tonic in front of me.

"Shut up," I huffed. "He said he just liked the wings there..."

"That's classic," Sebastian smirked. "That's what they all say!"

"Why did you even agree to go out with a man named Trent?" Anthony chimed in. "There's no way someone named Trent isn't going to be a douche bag."

Chris laughed then, throwing his head back as his hand came up to rest on his chest.

"That's true!" He howled and, as embarrassed as I was by the situation, I couldn't help but feel a different kind of flush at the sound of his heartfelt laugh.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Susan chimed in despite the smile on her face as well. "It sounds like poor Whitney has learned her lesson so there's no need to make her feel any worse."

Robert shrugged and gave me a pointed look.

"As long as she promises to make better choices."

I appreciated that he had my best interest at heart, but I rolled my eyes anyway in a show of annoyance.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm swearing off men for a while so there will be no choices made at all, good or bad, for the foreseeable future."

Susan frowned at that information, clearly displeased by my resignation to being alone, but luckily, a distraction arrived at our table and forced a change of subject - a distraction in the form of Jeremy Renner with a very full tray of shots.

Everyone cheered at the sight of him, but my uncle nudged me under the table to draw my attention back towards him.

"This is why I call him the Lord of the Underworld," he warned me. "Be careful..."

"Don't listen to him!" Jeremy insisted, handing out two shots to everyone except my aunt and uncle who weren't drinking. "I just know how to encourage everyone to have a good time."

"Does this group need any encouragement?"

Scarlett's question earned a laugh from the crowd, but Jeremy nodded his head.

"Apparently so or you wouldn't all be sitting in a corner, nursing your first drinks!" He pointed out. "So, drink up!"

He lifted a shot glass in the air and we all copied the action, giving a 'cheers' before tossing back the sharp tequila he'd chosen. The second shot went down almost immediately after and as I felt it burning down my throat, I knew we were in for quite a night.

-

"So, how are we going to do this?" Chris asked as we stood around a ping pong table with Anthony and Scarlett a bit later in the evening. "Girls against boys?"

"No way, man," Anthony shook his head, putting his arm around Scarlett's shoulders. "I want this one on my team."

"Ouch," Chris smirked. "But whatever, I was just trying to make it fair. If you want to play against the two best players then that's your choice."

"You literally met her today," Scarlett reminded him with a laugh. "How would you know what her ping pong skills are like?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my uncle beat me to it as he chimed in from where he sat at a nearby table.

"She's terrible at almost every sport, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with competitive spirit."

"Terrible is harsh!"

My protest did nothing to reassure Chris though as he shook his head.

"Good thing I have enough skill for the both of us then."

"I have skills!" I insisted. "Let's stop messing around and I'll prove it."

Anthony joined in the laughter at my expense as he bounced the ball on the table.

"Alright, do we all know the rules?" He asked. "The ball has to bounce once on your side of the table before you can hit it back."

"First to ten?" Chris suggested. "We'll let you guys go first."

We all agreed and Anthony bounced the ball again as he prepared to serve. He started off slow and gentle, lobbing it over slowly enough that I returned it with no trouble. However, when Scarlett hit it back, Chris made it clear he was here to play as he hit it with enough force that Scarlett had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.

"Yes!" I cheered, reaching over to high five Chris. "Nice one!"

"Okay, I see how it is," Anthony shook his head as he tossed the ball back to us for our serve. "No holding back now."

Chris smirked as he easily caught the ball. He didn't waste any time before throwing it back with a hard serve, but this time they were ready for it and Anthony hit it back easily. He aimed it at me, which I could only assume was deliberate due to my uncle's doubts of my abilities, but I managed to send it straight back. His surprise at my success was clear as he was unprepared for it to be heading back in his direction and we scored another point.

"Beginners luck!"

Robert's interjection from the sidelines earned him a rude gesture from me, but I knew he was probably right - unless the last couple of drinks had somehow sharpened my reflexes and I seriously doubted that as I was already well on my way past tipsy.

However, the next few rounds showed that my uncle had been wrong and I, apparently, had quite a knack for table tennis. Chris and I worked together like a dream and were absolutely decimating Scarlett and Anthony. The game was almost over as fast as it started, but when we only needed one more point Chris suddenly appeared to give up. He missed shot after shot and we were quickly losing our lead which was making me lose my temper.

"Dammit, Chris," I huffed, trying to suppress my annoyance as he missed a very easy ball. "Get it together over there!"

"Me?!" He gawked. "I thought you were going to get that one!"

"It was clearly on your side!"

"If that's what you think," he started as he picked up the ball and came back to the table. "Then you need to get your eyes tested, sweetheart."

"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I shot back. "Start paying more attention before you make us lose."

"Whatever you say," he smirked at me before adding: "Sweetheart."

I shot him a glare and - without thinking - I swatted his very hard to ignore, perfectly sculpted bum with my paddle. He yelped, catching the ball that he'd just thrown into the air with the intention of serving and stared at me wide-eyed. I was almost as surprised by the action as he was and I opened my mouth to apologize, but I was interrupted before I could.

"Careful there, Whitney," Sebastian warned from where he sat with my uncle at the spectator's table. "That's Marvel property!"

"They're very protective of it too," Anthony joked. "It's one of their best assets."

"Yeah, so show it some respect," Chris demanded, looking cocky despite the slight red tint to his cheeks. "And anyway, if you're trying to get me to focus then I don't think making me think about spanking is a great strategy."

"Ooh," I giggled. "Someone get me the number for TMZ! I've got tomorrow's headline ready for them: 'Chris Evans likes to be spanked'!"

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gently served the ball.

"Who said I like to be the one receiving?"

My mouth went dry when I realized what he was implying and several uncalled fantasies flashed through my brain. With that short little sentence, images filled my mind of him using his large hands for something entirely different to what they were currently doing - something that perhaps involved bending me over his lap. I felt a wave of heat wash over me at that thought as my gaze was drawn to him while I wondered if he was aware of the effect that he had on me. I was so pathetically distracted that I didn't even see the ball coming back towards us until it hit me on the side of my head.

-

Despite my embarrassing blunder, Chris and I managed to get ourselves together quickly enough to still win the game and our victory was promptly celebrated by another round of drinks.

My aunt and uncle left not long after that as they were eager to get home to their young children, but my uncle couldn't go without a few parting words when I hugged them goodbye.

"Chris is a good man," he informed me. "I'm not sure what his stance is on threesomes, but he wouldn't take you to Hooters on a first date, that's for sure."

I could tell what he was implying, but I questioned him anyway. The only answer I could pull out of him was a teasing wink and Susan ushered him out the door with a roll of her eyes and firm instructions for me to call them soon.

I tried to push his comment from my mind because the thought of a man as handsome, funny and intelligent as Chris Evans even considering the idea of taking me on a date seemed like insanity, but I would have been lying if I said it didn't instill a tiny flicker of hope in me. I was fairly certain that he had been flirting with me so maybe it wasn't entirely as far-fetched as my low self-esteem would have me believe.

I tried not to dwell on his words too much through the rest of the evening, but it was hard to shake the idea from my mind. Especially with how tactile he was with me. Whether it was when we moved on to dancing and he pulled me close, whenever we were walking to the bar and kept his arm draped around my waist or when we eventually settled on a pair of bar stools, sitting close enough that my knees were tucked between his.

That was how we were sat, tucked together at the bar, when I finished another drink and realized that the fuzziness in my head and the weight of my eyelids were telling me that it was time to head home. I wasn't eager for the night to end, I wanted to stay in this little flirtatious bubble as long as possible, but I could feel the alcohol induced fatigue hitting me and I knew I needed to leave before I no longer had the energy.

"How are you getting home?" Chris asked when I announced my departure. "Do you want some company while you wait for a cab?"

"Oh, that's okay," I assured him as I slid off the bar stool I'd been sitting on. "I'm just gonna walk."

"Walk?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where do you live?"

"Only about twenty minutes away," I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

I was being purposely vague, but Chris' questions persisted until I finally confessed what neighbourhood I lived in. Once I did, a worried look clouded his face.

"Really? That's not a great area..."

"It's not that bad!" I insisted. "I mean, I'll definitely move once the photography thing picks up and I would appreciate if you don't tell my uncle, but it's not that bad."

"He doesn't know?" Chris raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could only be interpreted as one of judgment. I nodded in answer to his question and he sighed, tossing back the last of the beer in front of him before standing up as well. "Just let me say goodbye and I'll walk with you."

"No, no, you don't have to do that! Stay with your friends."

"My Ma would kill me if she found out I let a woman walk home alone and I'm guessing Robert would have something to say about it too from what you just said," he insisted, flashing me one of his dazzling smiles. "Besides, I was gonna head out soon anyway."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded in response.

"Absolutely."

I felt bad that he was leaving because of me, but I had a feeling that any arguments would be futile. I followed him around the room, saying goodbye to the few people who were still at the bar before we headed outside. As soon as the fresh air hit me, I really felt the full affects of the several drinks I'd had throughout the night and I was quite grateful for Chris' company on my walk.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry you had to leave early."

Chris had pulled his baseball hat lower on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity a bit more, but the people bustling in the streets were too oblivious or drunk to pay much attention.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled down at me. "It was time for me to go anyway. I've had enough wild nights with Renner to know that nothing good happens after midnight."

"Oh, I see how it is," I smirked. "I thought this was a chivalrous gesture, but it's just an act of self-preservation."

Chris laughed, a deep laugh that made my smirk slide into a grin, as he held out his arm for me to take which I happily did.

"Can't it be both?"

"I suppose. I guess you must be pretty chivalrous to take on a role like Captain America." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up. "Sorry, that was dumb. I sound like some shitty interviewer. Like, 'tell me what aspects of the character you see in yourself'."

I'd put on a bad, faux news anchor voice for the last part of that sentence and I felt Chris' arm shake as he chuckled, but he shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It's a fair question," he assured me. "I think I've always been pretty chivalrous. I'm close with my mom and two sisters so they made sure I knew how to treat a lady. But that is one bonus of playing a character like Cap, he has such strong morals and such a steady sense of right and wrong, it inspires me to be as much like him as I can be."

Just as he finished his thought, I stumbled over an uneven part of the sidewalk and was only saved from face planting by his grip on my arm. I flushed with embarrassment again, but the alcohol in my system had me dissolving into giggles.

"Sorry, thank you. Wow, I'd say you really do have some Captain America traits." I flashed him a smile. "Was it like a lifelong dream for you? If you don't mind me asking, last question about it, I promise."

"You can ask all the questions you want," he shrugged and it seemed genuine, not just an expected assurance. "But no, it wasn't. I actually turned it down several times."

"Really? You did? Isn't a role like that every actor's dream?"

"Probably," he nodded. "But I did the Marvel thing with Fantastic Four and even that little taste of fame was almost too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm so grateful for all the opportunities I've been given, but it can be a lot to deal with."

"Those obsessive fangirls too much for you?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. " I was already having panic attacks, so I wasn't sure that I could handle taking that next step. But it's more just the total lack of privacy that comes with fame. Not just for me either, I knew it would affect my whole family."

"That makes sense," I nodded, knowing from my own experience that he was absolutely right. There'd been a few unfortunate incidents on slow news days where articles about 'Robert Downey Jr.'s niece' had popped up after some of my poorer choices in life. "Are you glad that you went for it now?"

"Absolutely! It was the best thing I've ever done. There are times when I still struggle, I don't do well at the premieres with all the pressure and the people, but the whole cast is like a family so the support is amazing."

"It's really sweet how close you guys all seem to be."

"It makes a big difference," Chris agreed as we turned off the main street in the direction of my neighbourhood. "But what about you? Have you always wanted to be a photographer?"

I paused for a moment as I tried to get my rather tipsy brain to figure out the simplest response to his question.

"Yes and no," I finally answered. "I've always loved photography, but I never really considered it as a career until about two years ago. I actually went to university to study accounting."

"Accounting? Wow, so you're a math wiz?"

"Hardly," I giggled. "It was what my dad wanted me to do to guarantee myself a solid career, but I hated it. I flunked out within a year. I'm not entirely sure that my dad has ever forgiven me for it, he was really disappointed in me."

"But surely he just wants you to be happy, whatever job you have..."

"You would think so," I shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it all the time though. He's very against the whole starving artist thing. He's not a bad person, but he's very practical and just can't understand how suffocating an office job would be for someone who likes to be creative. I get the impression that just being around me these days exasperates him."

I felt another blush cover my cheeks as I realized I was over-sharing. It could easily be blamed on the alcohol, but Chris was a good listener and I found him very easy to talk to.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "That was more information than you probably needed."

"You don't need to apologize so much," Chris assured me. "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want to hear the answer."

"Sor-" I paused. "Bad habit, I guess."

Chris squeezed my arm and shot me a reassuring smile before getting our conversation back on track.

"So, what made you persevere with photography in the end?"

"I just really enjoy doing it. I love capturing those unexpected moments, like the awkward laughter in between poses, the moments when people have their guard down and don't realize how beautiful they look. Then, when I get to share the photos I've taken with people and they see themselves in a different way, the joy it brings them makes it worth any financial struggles." As I finished my explanation, a thought struck me. "I actually got some good ones today, just on my phone when you guys first came in, not doing the planned and posed stuff."

They'd all been so excited to see each other even though it was just a few short weeks since they'd wrapped the film. It was sweet and I hadn't been able to resist capturing their reunion.

"Really? Could I see them?"

"If you give me your phone number, I can send them to you," I smiled up at him. "That would actually be helpful. They're obviously different than the ones I took for the actual shoot, but you can tell me if they're any good or if you think I just got the job because of my connections."

I reached into my bag and handed my phone to Chris so he could type in his number which he did before shooting me a skeptical glance.

"Do you really think your connection to Robert is the only reason you got the job?"

"Well, it was all so last minute. I can't help, but assume it's a mix of desperation and some pulled strings," I admitted. "But I know this is my one shot. Robert really believes in people making their own way in life so if I totally blow this opportunity, I know he won't fight for them to have me back again and I wouldn't want him to."

We turned another corner, taking us just a few blocks from my apartment building as Chris answered.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten you the job if there was any chance that he thought you would fail," Chris assured me. "But he is a good person to have in your corner. I probably wouldn't have taken the Captain America gig at all if it wasn't for him convincing me I could do it. He can be very persuasive."

I smiled at that information. I knew my uncle didn't like to take no for an answer so I could imagine how that conversation went.

"He can be very encouraging when he needs to be," I agreed. "Even if that encouragement sometimes comes out in the form of publicly shaming someone for their taste in men."

Chris let out another deep laugh and shook his head.

"C'mon, you gotta admit you deserved that."

"I did not!"

"He took you to Hooters and you didn't run away as fast as possible," Chris reminded me as if I could have forgotten such an embarrassing decision. "If that's not deserving of some public shaming then I don't know what is."

"Dating is hard these days," I huffed. "Maybe it would be easier if I had giant muscles like you, but it's hard to meet people."

"I think having muscles the size of mine would actually make you less hot."

I couldn't bite back the giggle that slipped from my lips as I looked up at him with a questioning raise of my eyebrows.

"Less hot?" I asked. "That would imply that you think I'm hot now."

"I do," Chris smirked confidently. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words instantly made my cheeks heat up again. I'd baited him into the compliment, but I didn't expect his blunt and honest answer. I was stunned into a momentary silence that only made Chris' smirk grow wider until I giggled once again.

"You're just drunk."

"I am not," Chris chuckled. "Well, maybe a little, but that doesn't change the facts."

There was a grin on my face and I felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Chris Evans just called me gorgeous. Any woman who said they didn't swoon in that situation was probably lying.

"That's very sweet of you to say," I told him, trying to play it cool. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

Chris squeezed my arm again as he flashed me a smile.

My apartment building was in sight now, just half a block away, and I was disappointed that our evening was about to end.

I was comfortable with Chris. He was nice and easy to talk to and I'd had more fun and laughs with him in the last few hours than I'd had throughout most of my last relationship. But despite our harmless flirting, I knew he was too good for me. I knew that I didn't stand a chance with him and that when the alcohol wore off and the sun came up, he would see that. As much as I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I could hardly keep us walking in circles around the block without him noticing so I reluctantly slowed to a stop outside my building.

"This is me..."

Chris looked up and nodded slowly.

"It doesn't look so bad."

"Because it's not!" I insisted. "Honestly, this isn't that bad of a neighbourhood."

"Well, it's not that great either, Whitney."

Another giggle slipped from my lips as I pulled my keys out of my purse, reluctantly slipping my arm from his.

"Your accent makes my name sound funny," I teased. "You don't say Whitney, you say Win-ney."

Chris laughed, but shook his head.

"Now who's drunk."

"Oh, definitely me," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Okay, Winnie, whatever you say."

He said my name wrong on purpose that time, but there was something about it that put a smile on my face. Emboldened by the alcohol and by his flirtatious nature, I decided to take a chance.

"Do you want to come up for a bit?" I asked. "One last drink maybe?"

Chris hesitated, but after a moment of thought, he shook his head.

"Nah, I should probably get home. I think I've had enough drinks for tonight." His solid reasoning eased the blow of rejection slightly, but it still burned me up inside. "Thanks for the invite though, maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time."

"Sure," I nodded, hoping I was masking my disappointment. "That would be nice."

"Great," he grinned before pulling me into a hug. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends."

Friends.

Good friends.

His words echoed in my head as I agreed and slipped out of his grasp. We said our goodbyes, I thanked him for escorting me home and I watched as he walked back down the street before I went inside.

Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.

At least he'd made himself clear and subtly let me down easy before I had chance to form any wrong ideas about what our relationship was or could be. It hurt and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit like a stab in the heart, but I was glad that he'd put me in my place before I made a fool of myself by making a move.

I knew I'd been getting ahead of myself anyway. I knew he was way out of my league, but he'd called me gorgeous and walked me home. He'd even given me a nickname. Maybe I'm just easy to impress, but it felt like he was interested. I guess being a big star in Hollywood requires a certain level of charm though and he was probably just used to being naturally flirtatious with most of the women he encounters.

I sighed as I let myself into my apartment and tossed my bag on the table by the door. I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world only moments earlier and now I was back to feeling like I was a romantic lost cause. I dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for bed and flopped down on top of the blankets - it was too hot to be under them and I didn't have the luxury of air conditioning.

Perhaps it was for the best that Chris declined my invitation to come upstairs, I thought to myself. This apartment was hardly up to Hollywood standards, it was hardly up to my own standards even if it was all that I could afford.

As my head laid on the pillow and my heart sat heavy in my chest, I told myself that it was fine. If Chris wanted to just be friends then I would be grateful that he even wanted that. I made a mental note to send him those pictures in the morning - because I'd promised to and not because I was curious to see what kind of response I would get when he was sober - and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of my new friend.

---

July 2016

And so, we were friends. Good friends, maybe even great friends.

I sent Chris the photos he’d asked for the day after we met and we spent most of that day messaging back and forth. Our friendship only grew from there and, whenever he was in town, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.

But we kept things very much friendly.

There was some flirtatious exchanges, but I respected his wishes and kept the feelings that I'd developed to myself.

My career really took off in the year after we met as well. That first Marvel photo shoot had gone incredibly well which led to several more contracts with them as well as other high profile jobs. It was a long, busy year, but I was grateful and relished in my success.

I'd even managed to move into a new apartment in a much nicer neighbourhood which felt like quite a big achievement and had finally silenced Chris' fretting about my safety. I moved in May, but our busy schedules kept him from seeing my upgraded home for himself until that summer, almost a year after we met. He was returning to L.A. from a trip home to Massachusetts and we hadn't seen each other in months so I was very eager for our reunion. Despite the fact that were still in constant communication, I'd missed him terribly and had been counting down the minutes until he would be arriving at my place.

"So," My friend's voiced echoed through my phone from where it sat on the bathroom counter while I finished curling my hair into beachy waves. "Are you going to finally make a move tonight?"

"No," I scoffed. "Of course not, Hannah. I've not seen him in a while now, I want us to have a good time. I don't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin everything."

"I will bet you a thousand dollars that it wouldn't ruin everything," she insisted. "Honestly, I will give you a thousand dollars if you make a move tonight and it goes badly."

I rolled my eyes as I finished the last curly wave and reached for my hairspray.

"You can't put a price on my friendship with Chris."

"Oh my god," she groaned. "He's told you that he thinks you're gorgeous, he makes time to hang out with you whenever he can and he texts you every single day. He treats you better than any boyfriend you've ever had. How can you think he doesn't have feelings for you?"

I took a moment to spray my hair and give myself one last look over before taking her off speaker and answering the question as I walked towards my kitchen.

"Because he straight up told me that he wants to be friends," I reminded her. "And he's never given me any other signs that he's interested in anything more."

"He doesn't need to give you any signs. When someone looks at you the way that he looks at you that says enough."

"Well, I'm going to need him to say a little more."

Another groan came through the phone as the buzzer to my apartment rang.

"You're impossible."

"I know, I know, and my lack of self-esteem will make me die alone," I said, repeating the words she'd told me a hundred times. "But he's here now, so you're going to have to save your criticisms for another time."

"Just tell him how you feel," she huffed. "I expect a full report in the morning."

The buzzer rang again as I agreed and said my goodbyes to my friend. I took a deep breath and a moment to push Hannah's words from my mind before pressing the button on the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Win, it's me! Let me up."

I pressed the button to unlock the door and felt my lips slide into a cheek aching grin just from the sound of his voice. It had been too long since we'd had a chance to hang out and I was very much looking forward to a nice evening together.

It took him barely a minute to get up to my apartment, knocking twice before letting himself in.

"Hey!" I grinned, rushing towards him as he held his arms open. I threw mine around him as soon as I was close enough and squeezed him tightly. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," he smiled. "Nice place you got here, someone's doing well for themselves."

"Oh, please," I giggled, slipping out of his arms. "I've seen your house, Mr. Evans. This is a dump compared to where you live."

"Nah, this place is great!"

"It's definitely an improvement," I admitted as I led him towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? I bought that beer you like."

"You didn't have to do that. I would have been fine with whatever you have in," he chided me, but I waved him off and assured him it was fine. "What's the plan for tonight anyway?"

I shrugged as I opened the fridge to get a beer out for him and a bottle of wine for myself.

"I don't mind. Do you want to go out for drinks later or just stay here? It is a Saturday so everywhere around here will be packed with women in their early twenties if you'd like your ego stroked a bit."

I was referring to the last time we'd gone out and made the mistake of going to a bar that turned out to be pretty unfriendly to celebrities. A lot of places in L.A. made it easy for celebrities to go under the radar, but the place we'd gone to apparently wasn't one of them. There was a steady stream of beautiful young women trying their luck with Chris all night until we eventually fled and went back to his place just to give him some peace.

Chris laughed, clearly understanding what I was referencing, but he shook his head.

"Honestly? I'd prefer to stay in tonight," he admitted, but a smirk slid onto his face as he very obviously gave me a once over. "But you got all dressed up and it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that on a night in."

"Oh, this old thing?" I glanced down at the short black sundress I was wearing, a blush covering my cheeks from his compliment. "I just put this on in case we did decide to go out, but staying in sounds good to me. I'm well stocked with supplies."

I gestured to the wine and beer on the counter and the few bottles of hard liquor behind them.

"Then we'll stay in?"

"Sure," I nodded as a thought hit me and I gasped with excitement. "Oh, we can sit on my balcony! It over looks the park and I just got a new little couch for it."

"Very fancy," Chris laughed. "You really are doing well for yourself."

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I don’t think Ikea patio furniture is a particularly high aspiration for anyone."

"Don't sell yourself short! You're finally getting recognition for your talent and that's worth celebrating."

I smiled as I led him through the living room and opened the door to my balcony with a flourish. The heat of July in California hit us immediately, but the balcony was shaded which made it a more reasonable temperature.

"This is nice," Chris nodded approvingly. "Well done, Winnie."

He sat on the couch and held his beer up towards me. I gently clinked my glass against it before sitting next to him. I thanked him once I was settled, hiding the width of my grin with my glass as I took a sip.

"So, how was Massachusetts?" I asked, curling my feet underneath me. "Do you have much more time off or are you back at it pretty quick?"

"I've actually got some time off," Chris informed me. "I think I'll probably spend most of it back home. It was great being there the last few weeks. It just feels better than L.A."

"Most places probably feel better than L.A.," I pointed out with a scoff. "This place is exhausting."

"You should come visit some time," Chris suggested before flashing me a smirk. "I feel bad leaving you here when I'm clearly your only friend."

"Excuse me, that is not true!" I protested, my jaw dropping at his insult as he chuckled at his own joke. "I have plenty of friends, thank you very much. All those liquor bottles on the counter are leftover from my very crowded house-warming party."

"Oh, no, Winnie," he laughed, his hand coming up to his chest. "Don't try and provide evidence that you have friends. That makes you seem even more pathetic."

"More pathetic than what? I have friends!"

"Imaginary ones don't count."

I couldn't help, but laugh at that insult as I shook my head.

"You're so rude. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you have no one else." He shot me a very over the top look of pity until I swatted his arm and he dissolved into laughter again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Seriously though, you should come out to Massachusetts sometime. I'll show you around."

"That would be fun," I agreed. "I'm pretty busy with work over the summer, but I think I'm in New York for a shoot in September. I could maybe tie a trip in with that if you're still out there."

"I should be if nothing else comes up," Chris nodded. "And fall is a great time to come. It's gorgeous."

"I bet. It would be nice to experience a season instead of just this sweltering L.A. heat all the time."

I made a face to emphasize my point as I sipped my drink and Chris eyed me suspiciously.

"I can't help, but get the impression that you're not loving it here at the moment..."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Not really. I thought moving into a better apartment would help, but I'm just kinda tired of it, I guess."

"It can be draining here," he nodded. "Have you thought about moving somewhere else?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"Not really. I'd miss my family too much. I'd have to have a good reason, I think, or know someone wherever I was going."

"Well, you'll always know someone in Massachusetts," he smiled. "And my Ma would love you. I'm sure she'd take you in right away."

"Awe, Mama Evans. I'd love to meet her...Mostly so I could demand an apology for her part in raising such a horrible man."

Chris threw his head back with another chest grab worthy laugh.

"Oh man, I know. My brother is pretty awful."

I snorted a laugh at his comeback, but shook my head.

"Scott was delightful the few times I met him," I informed him. "I was clearly talking about you."

"Me?!" He gasped dramatically. "What are you talking about? I'm a total gentleman."

"Imaginary friends don't count," I repeated his words back to him in a very bad impression of his deep voice and Boston accent. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman."

"It's called a joke, Winnie," he teased. "Try having a sense of humour."

I stuck my tongue out at him in response, but I had to admit that the teasing was nice. I really had missed him while he was away and I was relieved that we fell back together so naturally that it was like we'd never been apart.

-

Our conversation continued to flow well into the night and so did our drinks. A few hours later and several alcoholic beverages down, the temperature was starting to drop a bit as the sun set, but our conversation was just starting to heat up.

"So," Chris turned to me with a smirk as he sipped the tequila sunrise I'd just made for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't like it, that it would be too sweet, but apparently he was too tipsy to really care. "How's your love life these days? Any more trips to Hooters?"

I snorted a laugh as I shook my head.

"I need more alcohol if we're going to delve into my love life."

Mostly because the biggest detriment to my romantic life was currently sitting on the couch with me, but I wasn't going to volunteer that information. Chris nudged the bottom of the glass in my hand, gently enough not to spill any but firmly enough to lift it slightly.

"Drink up then because I'm curious. Especially after a statement like that."

The irony of someone who was very vocal about how much they hated being constantly interrogated and harassed about their love life trying to do that exact thing to me wasn't lost on me, but I knew he'd keep pestering me until I opened up. I did as Chris suggested and took a large swig of my drink before answering him.

"No, there hasn't been any more dates at Hooters lately," I assured him. "But I did go on a date last week that was disappointing in it's own way."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? How so?"

"He turned out to be a Robert Downey Jr. fanboy," I admitted, rolling my eyes as Chris let out a laugh. "It was going well until I made the mistake of mentioning that he's my uncle. He wouldn't shut up about him - stop laughing! - It was awful. Honestly, he went on and on! I eventually asked him if he'd rather be on a date with my uncle than me."

"And what did he say?"

I scowled at the memory.

"He said yes and asked for his number." That admission drew another howl of laughter from Chris and I couldn't help, but giggle along with him despite my shaking head. "Honestly, Chris, it's not funny. I have the worst luck."

"You have the worst taste in men." He corrected and I wondered briefly if he'd be less confident in that statement if he knew that he was my taste, even more so when he continued. "You're only interested in the douchey guys and then you're always shocked when they act like assholes."

"That is so not true!" I protested. "How am I supposed to know they're going to be douche bags? We talk for like two days on a dating app before we meet up and they always seem normal!"

"What was this one's job?"

I cringed and took another big swig of my drink.

"A club promoter."

"Exactly!" Chris groaned. "And hadn't the one before him quit his job to try and get famous on YouTube?"

"Instagram," I corrected. "But, so what? I struggled for a long time before my career went anywhere. You can't judge people by something like that."

"For the most part, I agree with you," Chris nodded. "But there are some careers that only attract a certain kind of person."

I huffed at his logic, but there was some truth to what he was saying.

"Dating is just hard these days," I insisted. "Besides, from what I've seen online lately, you're one to talk about messy relationships."

Now it was Chris' turn to take a gulp of the drink in his hand as he raised an eyebrow at my claim.

"Everything you read about me is bullshit, you know that. I haven't dated anyone lately, people just like to make things up."

"Oh, what I was reading the other day wasn't really about who you were dating."

That got his attention as he shot me a surprised look.

"What was it about then?"

"I thought it was all bullshit?" I smirked. "Does it matter what it was if it's not true?"

Chris shrugged.

"Even if it's not true, I like to know what people are saying about me."

"And you don't have a team to provide you with that information?"

"I do," he nodded. "But they don't tell me everything so I'd love to know what you read."

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy about disclosing what I'd seen. I took a moment to figure out how to say it before telling him.

"I stumbled across an article that claimed an anonymous source, who recently spent the night with you, told them that you are not particularly skilled at going down on a woman."

Chris' jaw dropped and I couldn't help, but laugh again at the outrage on his face.

"That's fuckin' bullshit!" He protested. "Why would anyone believe an anonymous source? It's obviously not true! Why would they even write that?"

I smirked again as I tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside me. Of course, I didn't believe an anonymous source and I felt bad for Chris that mean rumours like that were being spread around the internet, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease him about it anyway.

"I don't know. She must have had some kind of proof, they wouldn't have published it without fact checking."

"They absolutely would!" Chris laughed incredulously. "They publish anything that gets clicks!"

I shrugged and tried to stifle the giggles still fighting to come out.

"It seemed pretty believable to me. I'm not trying to be mean, but maybe just take the criticism and use it to grow."

"I don't need to use it to grow!" He insisted. "I have plenty of skills in that area, I've never had any complaints."

"Until now."

"It's not true!"

"Unfortunately, I'll never know..."

I froze, hearing my words echo through my head as Chris' eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before a twinkle appeared. It was a simple statement, but we both picked up on what it implied, especially with the hint of intrigue, almost challenge, in my voice.

Chris tossed back the last of his drink and then shifted, sitting up a bit straighter as the look of annoyance on his face had changed into something almost cocky. I took a sip of my own drink, hoping to drown the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach as the cool evening breeze suddenly did nothing to ease the heat that surrounded us.

"Well, how am I suppose to prove it to you?"

He moved his hand until it was resting on my knee and I had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. We were fairly affectionate and much more touchy with each other than many friends were, but this felt different. There was a tension between us now and I swallowed hard, not wanting the alcohol in my system to make me misinterpret anything.

"I don't know." I bit my lip as he stared me down, a smirk back on his face now. "Why don't you de-describe it?"

Demonstrate.

Demonstrate was the word that I was looking for, the word that was on the tip of my tongue.

Describe was not quite as flirtatious. It was like I'd just set him some kind of essay assignment. I cringed, but Chris was unfazed as he chuckled and nodded his head.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Where should I start?"

Before I even had time to answer, he began his explanation.

His voice was low as he spoke, sparing no detail. He described every kiss, every touch and every little tease. By the time he was describing how much he liked to watch whoever was he was pleasuring, looking up from where his face was buried to see her orgasm roll through her body, I was almost shamelessly panting. His hand was still on my leg, stroking higher and higher on my thigh and I felt more aroused from his words than I had from the last few sexual encounters that I'd had.

He was watching me when he finished speaking, a smirk on his face and his eyes narrowed in a seductive stare as I took a shaky breath.

It was now or never.

Tossing back the last of my drink, I put my glass on the table. Then, I took the glass in his hand and did the same.

He was watching me the whole time, meeting my eyes as I sat back on the couch. My mind was running a mile a minute as the gravity of the situation hit me, but I tried to push all thoughts of doubt from my head as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes flicked down to watch the movement and that was all the confirmation I needed.

I darted forward fast enough that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and pressed my lips against his.

There was a brief moment when he froze. I felt his hand tense on my thigh and his body seemed more rigid than it had moments ago, but he recovered quickly and a low growl came from his throat before his hands moved to my waist and effortlessly lifted me into his lap.

I gasped at the movement, momentarily taking my lips away from his, but before I could even mumble out any comments on his strength, he'd pressed our lips together again.

It was a sloppy kiss. Spurred on by our mounting tension and the panic bubbling inside me that any minute now he would change his mind and push me away in disgust, our movements were frantic and desperate. My hands slid around his neck, one moving up to the back of his head as if I needed to hold him in place, but his fingers digging into my waist made me think that he was having the same thought.

Eventually though, the need for air forced us apart and I rested my forehead against his as we fought to catch our breath. The pause in our actions gave my brain time to catch up to my body and I immediately felt the nerves kick in.

Logically, I knew we should slow things down and talk about what this meant. My feelings for Chris went deeper than a drunken hook up and I was setting myself up for heartbreak if he wasn't on the same page. However, there was a more impulsive part of my brain that didn't care. I'd wanted this for so long, surely I deserved a chance to just enjoy it.

As if Chris could read my mind, his deep voice cut through my thoughts.

"Are we really doing this?"

I bit my lip, knowing this was the time to voice any concerns that I had, but as I stared into his eyes, I couldn't make myself jeopardize the moment.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm in if you are?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face as he nodded as well.

"I've been waiting almost a whole fuckin' year for this," he admitted. "I'm absolutely in."

I felt my heart flutter at his confession. If he'd been waiting for this as long as I had then that must have meant that we were on the same page. No one waits that long for a meaningless fuck, he would have made a move by now if there wasn't more to it.

In an effort to silence my overactive brain, I pressed my lips back against his which proved to be the perfect distraction. All worries and cares slipped from my mind as his tongue slipped back into my mouth and his hands drifted down to cup my ass. I could practically feel them burning through my thin dress and as they squeezed slightly, pressing my hips closer towards his, I could tell that my panties were already much damper than was probably reasonable.

But the anticipation was practically killing me.

My body felt like it was on fire as every brush of his tongue, every caress of my skin, every sigh that fell from his lips against my mouth, had me writing against him like a cat in heat. Often, when I'd imagined what this moment would be like, I'd assumed it would be slow - we'd take our time and savour every touch - but I hadn't factored in just how desperate we'd both be or how quickly I would be filled with the absolute need for there to be less layers of fabric between us.

Chris sucked in a deep breath as his lips moved from mine, sliding lower to kiss along my jaw. I could feel a bulge growing between us, telling me that he was as overeager as I was so, as shivers tingled down my spine from the trail his mouth was taking, I fought through the distractions to speak.

"Chris," I panted. "Let's go inside."

His lips paused their movement as he nuzzled into my neck.

"Not much of an exhibitionist?"

"Not on the first date."

My words were teasing and a shrug of my shoulders accompanied my response, earning a chuckle from Chris.

"Alright, that's fair."

I nudged his head away from my skin so I could press another soft kiss to his lips.

My intention was to then climb off of his lap and lead him into my apartment, but he had other ideas as his hands slid under my thighs and his grip tightened. With one smooth motion and an impressive show of strength, he stood from the couch and lifted me up with him. I gasped and rushed to wrap my legs around his waist for stability, but the smirk on his face and the bulge of his bicep told me that it probably wasn't necessary. He was incredibly strong and it sent another flush of arousal through me at the thought of the beautifully sculpted physique under his clothes.

"Are you bulking up for Cap again?"

I mumbled the words in an attempt to keep my mind busy and stop myself before I started rubbing myself against his stomach. With the way my legs were positioned there was merely a shirt and my panties between us and it was entirely too tempting.

"Nah, got a month or two before that starts again," he informed me, quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

I pointed him towards the door of my bedroom before answering as I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.

"So, you're like, always this strong?"

Chris chuckled slightly as he kicked my bedroom door open.

"Well, I'm no club promoter," he teased. "But I do tend to stay at a certain level of fitness for when the job does require it."

My jaw dropped at his audacity to bring that up again at a moment like this, but I couldn't stop the snort of laughter that slipped out.

"Shut up," I demanded, letting my thumb stroke against the soft skin on the back of his neck. "Before I come to my senses and ask you to leave."

Now it was Chris' turn to laugh as he gently tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me like a lion stalking it's prey.

"C'mon," he smirked as he hovered over me. "I think we both know that the last thing you want me to do right now is leave."

With that, he pressed his lips back against mine before I had chance to argue. Not that I would have, because he was absolutely right. There was a long list of things I wanted him to do, but leaving was not one of them. In fact, as I let my arms slid over his toned shoulders, I pulled him even closer.

I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to hear every little grunt and moan, I wanted to feel every inch of his body against mine, I wanted to see his muscles quiver and twitch with pleasure, I wanted him inside me and we'd barely even started. A year of waiting would make anyone desperate and, as much as I was revelling in his talented mouth as it moved against my own, I was eager to see what else he could do with it.

Sliding my hands down along his back, I ran them over his waist until they were at the hem of his shirt and, in an attempt to move things along, I slid them back up over his stomach, bringing his shirt with them. I paused, taking a moment to trace over his abs and he chuckled, moving his lips down to nuzzle them into my neck.

"That tickles," he mumbled against my skin as I smiled.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that these muscles are real."

"They are," he smiled up at me. "Are you impressed?"

"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile of my own. "I'll be more impressed if you get these clothes out of the way and let me admire you properly."

He chuckled again, but didn't fight as I pulled his shirt over his head. The light in the room was dim and the way we were positioned didn't give me an optimal view, but what I could see was enough to draw a soft gasp from my lips.

I'd seen him shirtless and in even less from a few sneaky Google searches and watching his old movies, but seeing it all right in front of me was quite a treat. I had to double check that I wasn't drooling at the sight as I openly stared, my mouth slightly agape.

I realized I was probably ogling him a little too long when a faint blush covered his cheeks and he ducked his head back against my neck. He placed another soft kiss against my skin before he spoke.

"Now, it's your turn."

"Okay," I agreed, swallowing hard. "But just keep in mind that I don't look like that."

I ran my hands up and down his sides to emphasize what I was referring to and I felt more than heard him chuckle as he peered up at me once more.

"I'd be disappointed if we had the same upper body," he teased. "I mean, if I'm being honest."

I rolled my eyes despite the smile on my face.

"You know what I mean," I insisted. "I'm not sculpted by the Gods like you are."

His head fell back against my shoulder as he shook with laughter before shaking his head.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured me. "You're too hard on yourself. You're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words took me back to the first night we met as the sincerity in his voice was the same as it had been back then. And there was something about the confidence with which he spoke that had me believing him.

So, as his hands slid under my dress - teasing the outside of my thighs in a way that had me biting my lip to force back a moan - I pushed any negative thoughts or doubts about myself from my mind. I even felt a hint of pride when my dress was discarded, exposing my lack of bra, and making Chris' eyes darken as they scoured over my body.

"Fuck, Winnie," he groaned as he soaked in the sight of my exposed chest. "You're beautiful."

I felt my heart flutter at the genuine awe in his voice and at his word choice. Gorgeous, hot, sexy - those are all compliments I would have loved to receive from him, but beautiful. It seemed deeper, more romantic. There was a brief reminder from the voice in my head that perhaps the importance of such a simple word was a signal I shouldn't be moving forward with this without having a very serious conversation about feelings first, but I was quick to ignore it as I pulled Chris back to my lips.

It seemed he was as desperate to move things along as I was though as his mouth didn't linger against mine for very long before it was trailing a path down my neck. He paused when he got to my chest, letting out a groan as he nuzzled the skin before sucking it just hard enough to leave a faint mark when he moved back. The sight had me squirming beneath him and he shot me a smirk before moving his lips to my nipple.

Gasping at the sensation, I arched up towards him as he continued to nip and tease me. If his current actions were anything to go by then whoever wrote the article that I read was very sorely mistaken. He appeared to be incredibly talented with his mouth and by the time he moved away from my nipple to continue his path down my body, my chest was heaving and I was sure that I was just one gentle touch away from my peak.

However, I was disappointed when he got to the top of my panties and, after licking along the skin of my lower stomach, pushed himself up and moved off of me to stand at the foot of my bed. I whined in protest, wanting him as close to me as possible, but all I got was a smirk in response.

"Patience," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans.

I wanted to pout, to argue that I'd been patient enough in the last year, but any complaints died on my tongue as he pushed his jeans to the floor. As he stood in front of me, only in his underwear, my sense of urgency was replaced by an appreciation for the chance to admire his chiselled body. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better view and he chuckled at the look of wonder that I was sure was on my face.

His underwear was the next thing to go and the anticipation turned quickly to shock as my jaw dropped at what he revealed. I could have assumed from the large bulge that he was quite well-endowed, but seeing it confirmed sent a whole new flush of arousal through me. I mumbled out a 'wow' as I bit my lip and tried to take it all in - he truly was a gorgeous man.

"Like what you see?"

His question snapped me out of my daze as he knelt back down on the end of the bed.

"Very much so," I nodded, desperate to feel his body over mine once again. "Come back up here."

"No," Chris grinned as he ducked down to place a kiss on my ankle. "Not yet."

Again, part of me wanted to argue and demand that he return his mouth to mine and get things moving, but before I could even open my mouth, he made his intentions clear - by tracing his fingers up my leg with his lips close behind.

I was quivering under his touch, still leaning up on my elbows when he reached the edge of the panties I was wearing. He glanced up at me as he licked along the lace before he bit into the material and tugged. I lifted my hips to ease his struggle as he yanked my panties down my legs with his teeth. The sight of it had me squeezing my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction, but as soon as my underwear joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, he was quick to pull my legs apart again.

"Keep 'em open for me," he demanded, that damn smirk still firmly on his face. "I've got something to prove."

I giggled at that statement, but did as he asked. I was still watching his movements, until he dipped his head forehead and pressed his lips against me. That first moment of contact was enough to have my head flopping back against the pillows as my hands shot down to grip his hair. I was vaguely aware of him mumbling something about how wet I was, but my brain was too busy trying to process the pleasure he was giving me to take in his words.

He wasted no time demonstrating everything that he'd described to me earlier that night. His tongue was focused and precise in its movements and, contrary to what I read, he clearly knew what he was doing as he easily narrowed in on my clit. It wasn't enough though. I needed more pressure, more friction, and I pushed up towards him with a moan on my lips to urge him on. He wasn't having any of that as his hands looped under my thighs to settle on my hips, holding me in place, but he increased the pressure as he apparently understood what I needed despite my lack of ability to verbalize it.

I immediately felt a familiar feeling starting to build.

He sucked and licked with an urgency that I very much appreciated, flicking his tongue in just the right spot at just the right speed to have me trembling beneath him. I managed to gasp out a warning 'oh god' as my hands gripped his hair even tighter and I fell apart into a puddle of whimpers and moans. My orgasm hit me more fiercely than I'd imagined in my wildest fantasies of this moment and I arched up against him, his name pouring from my lips like a chant as he continued his efforts with a low groan of his own only adding to my pleasure.

As my breathing started to slow, Chris gently ceased his movements and moved his head back before resting his chin on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me.

"Well?"

"I'm going to write my own article," I told him, feeling that wonderful post peak bliss wash over me. "Because someone was obviously very misinformed."

Chris chuckled before pulling his hands from my hips to plant them on the bed and drag himself back over me.

"I'm glad I exceeded expectations."

"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement as his lips hovered above mine. "Now, let's see what else you can do."

Chris flashed me a smile and kissed me briefly before leaning back just enough to reach down and take his cock in his hand. Another moan fell from my lips as he rubbed it against me for a moment before nudging against my entrance and finally pressing inside. He moved slowly, but even so, I winced at the sensation. The slight burn as I stretched around him felt good but there was an undeniable ache as well. Sensing my hesitation, Chris paused and dropped his head for another soft kiss. I waited a moment, until the initial spark of discomfort had passed before pressing my hips up towards him.

He took the hint and continued his slow, almost torturous, movement until he was fully inside. The burning pain returned as it felt like he was taking up every inch of space I had to offer, but it felt incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed against my neck where his head had settled again. "You're tight..."

He shifted his hips pulling another gasp from my lips.

"Only because you're huge."

I felt a puff of laughter before he nipped at my shoulder.

"Thank you."

I would have smacked him for his cocky tone, but he moved then and suddenly my mind was blank of anything other than how good it felt. His movements were slow at first, every thrust dragging every inch of him against every nerve inside me, but his restraint quickly waned as his pace increased.

I let out a moan as my head fell back against the pillows and I hitched my leg higher on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of my thigh to hold it in place as he built a steady rhythm that had us both panting as I fought to match his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his short beard rubbed against my skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was like he was completely encompassing me, smothering all of my senses and I could feel the pressure building again in the pit of my stomach in a way that it all felt like too much, but not enough all at the same time. I clenched around him, earning a groan of approval from Chris as I swore I could feel him twitch inside me. The pleasure was building quickly and his thrusts got sloppier and more frantic until suddenly he pulled out of me completely.

I felt empty and immediately wanted him back inside of me, my disappointment only growing as he pushed himself up to kneel back on his heels. The only compensation was how good he looked, muscles tight and his cock hard, practically throbbing and shiny from my being drenched in my wetness.

"Turn over," he instructed, his raspy voice bringing me back to the task at hand.

It took a moment for me to process his words, but I giggled as soon as I did.

"What?" He asked, a smile on his face.

"Nothing," I laughed again as I pushed myself up to do as he asked. "You just really are 'clearly' an ass man."

A look of realization crossed his face as he cringed slightly, his hand pausing from where he had reached down to stroke himself. I settled on my knees with my back to him as he answered.

"You heard about that?"

He was referring to the comments that he made on Anna Faris' podcast and I nodded my head.

"Everyone heard about that," I teased.

He chuckled, but didn't deny it as I leaned forward to rest on my hands. The wetness between my legs felt cool from the air in the room and I suddenly felt very exposed, knowing what the view must look like from his position. Again, my worries were brief though as his hands settled on my ass, kneading and squeezing as he let out a low groan.

"With an ass like this though, can you blame me?" He asked, sliding the fingers of one hand down towards the part of me that was practically throbbing with need. My head fell forward as he gently brushed over my clit before sinking two fingers inside me. It wasn't enough, not after the stretch of his cock, but he moved them with almost criminal precision against a spot that made me tense as I moaned with pleasure. "You've been drivin' me wild ever since that night we met. Those black jeans were so tight, it was like you were poured into 'em."

His words were muttered low and quiet and as much as I appreciated the compliment, I was such a puddle of mush from the movement of his fingers that I couldn't string together a sentence in response. He kept talking, whispering words of encouragement and adoration and it only added to my pleasure, but it wasn't until his thumb pressed against my clit that I felt myself start to bubble over. With a cry that I hoped served as a warning of my impending climax, I arched my back to press myself further towards him.

"Atta girl, Winnie..."

His breath was hot against the cheek of my ass and he continued his actions, placing a soft kiss on my skin. I was close, so close, but just not quite there until he did something that surprised me and sank his teeth into the spot his mouth was resting on. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to leave a mark and it was definitely enough to send me over the edge. Moaning out his name again as I pressed back towards him, I felt myself quivering around his fingers as the pleasure tore through my body.

My elbows were quaking with effort as they tried to hold me up while he kept his fingers gently working until my orgasm came to an end. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but I knew I wanted him inside me again so I shot him a look over my shoulder.

"Chris," I panted. "Fuck me, please."

His eyes darkened at my request, but he wasted no time, quickly shifting until he was positioned behind me and sliding himself back inside. He felt even bigger in our new position and his need was made clear as his hands settled on my hips to use them as leverage, thrusting into me at a much more frantic pace than he had before.

The stretch and feel of him deep inside me had me moaning and arching my back once again, but I was doubtful that I would reach another peak - until Chris slid one of his hands from my hip, over my stomach and back down to my clit. The sensation combined with his movements and all the noises pouring from his mouth had a tightness in my stomach forming again with shocking speed. It was just shy of overwhelming as my two previous orgasms had left me feeling rather sensitive already, but when Chris picked up the pace even more, his grunts and groans getting more desperate, I leaned into the sensation. It only took a minute or two more before he finally pressed himself deep inside me, stilling as he let out a low moan and I followed him over the edge once more.

After a few final thrusts through his release, Chris leaned forward to press his chest against my back. I could feel how hard he was breathing and soaked in the moment of bliss until my arms finally gave out underneath me. We landed in a heap face down on the bed, but Chris quickly rolled off of me before pulling me tight against his side.

"Wow," he breathed out. "Winnie, that was...wow."

I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.

"It was," I agreed. "I take back any doubts about your abilities."

He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Thanks," he smiled as I peered up at him until he let a yawn slip out. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"

His question made my own smile widen even more.

"Of course not!"

He breathed out a sigh of relief at my words as I felt a wave of reassurance myself. He wanted to stay. He wasn't about to rush out the door the moment we were done and I filed that information away as more evidence that we were on the same page.

I felt like I should get up - to use the bathroom and offer my guest some water - but our activities had my whole body feeling like jelly. I was vaguely aware of a mumbled 'goodnight' from Chris, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before I could even respond.

-

The next morning as I slowly woke up, it took me a moment to remember why I was naked and why there was a pleasant, but very noticeable ache between my thighs. As the memory came back to me, a smile slid onto my face, but when I rolled over to find the bed empty, a flicker of worry sparked in the pit of my stomach. Especially when a glance at the clock told me that it was only seven in the morning. We couldn't have fallen asleep much before one so there was no good reason for him to be out of bed already.

I called out his name, hopeful that he would respond, but I wasn't entirely surprised when he didn't. The dread I was feeling intensified at the silence around me and I dragged myself out of bed with the intention of checking if he was in the bathroom or perhaps back out on the balcony. However, the sight of what was on the floor, or more accurately what wasn’t on the floor, made me pause. My dress and panties were laying where they'd been tossed, but his clothes were no where to be seen.

Trying to keep a level head, I quickly pulled on the oversized shirt that I usually slept in and ventured out of my bedroom, but my fears were quickly confirmed. My apartment was empty.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I desperately tried to rationalize his disappearance. Maybe he woke up early and went out to get us breakfast and coffee? The dull throbbing in my head told me that I could certainly use a good shot of caffeine and it was a pretty safe bet that he was feeling the same. But, when he didn't return after half an hour, I assumed that theory was just an optimistic wish.

After forty-five minutes of sitting on my couch, watching the door - willing it to open and for Chris to appear - I sent him a text. I tried to keep it low key and chill, but after another hour of staring at my phone, the words "Hey, where'd you go?" started to seem more and more desperate.

By ten o'clock with no response and no sign of Chris returning, I accepted the situation for what it was.

He wasn't coming back.

It was a drunken mistake that he clearly regretted.

We'd risked our entire relationship for one night of wonderful, incredible, but meaningless sex and he didn't even have the guts to stick around long enough to talk to me about it.

One stupid night and I'd lost one of my best friends.

The thought brought tears to my eyes and, before I could stop myself, I was blubbering like a baby as I curled up on my couch. I was devastated and heartbroken. I'd let myself believe that maybe he wanted me the same way that I wanted him because we were so close and I never would have imagined that he would let it go that far just to ditch me in the morning without even a goodbye. Surely, after a year of such strong friendship, I deserved more than that.

But no matter how stupid and naive I felt in that moment, nothing would compare to the level of utter foolishness I felt later that day when I was tiding up and realized that there wasn't a condom in sight.

-

Part Two

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces

[amandaoftherosemire]

For She Had Eyes...

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Unnamed OFC!Hallway Blonde

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5,146

Format: Two-part series

Warning: Smut, 18+ only, language, unintentional voyeurism, female masturbation, mild angst, embarrassment.

Summary: After accidentally catching Steve in an intimate moment, you can’t stop thinking about it.

A/N: This was inspired by a piece of fanart that I saw that I can’t find now to save my damn life. It was of Steve and Sharon against a wall, mostly clothed, him in a tux and her in a red dress, and I loved it. (If anyone knows what I’m talking about, please let me know so I can credit the artist.)

However, I personally hate how the fandom has treated Sharon Carter at times, so I tend not to vilify her if I can help it. To be clear, Hallway Blonde is NOT Sharon Carter.

I only split this into two parts because of the word count. It was one of those stories that showed up in my brain and wouldn’t shut up until I got it out of there and out of the way. I hope y’all like it!

For She Had Eyes

You didn’t mean to do it. You weren’t trying to peep. But jeez, if he didn’t want anyone to see, then why the hell was he in one of the corridors? Not that you were complaining. You were, but about the fact that you had to stop watching. Really. You had to. In a second.

You'd been heading back to your rooms from the communal kitchen after you’d woken up starving and embarked on an after-midnight foraging expedition. With the slice of pie and the soda you’d acquired, you were quietly padding back to your rooms when the gasping breaths and soft slap of flesh on flesh alerted you to someone else’s presence and their probable current activity.

Expecting Bucky or even Sam, you’d put your training to use and snuck toward the sound rather than away in the hopes of witnessing something you could leverage against them later. They were fun guys, but you needed any ammunition you could get in the unending friendly battle. Catching them in the act of either getting laid or making do could be excellent ammunition.

Which may be why you'd frozen when you peeked around the corner to one of the corridors in the private areas to spy Steve there with some blonde you only vaguely recognized pinned against the wall.

Your eyes widened, but you didn't move, greedily drinking in the sight of Steve, mostly dressed, as he pounded silently into the woman panting in his arms. You knew you should leave, as quietly as possible, respecting Steve's privacy. You stayed, however, for far longer than you were proud of, imprinting the image of Steve in the throes of passion on your retinas.

Though the light was dim, there was more than enough for you to see that Steve Rogers was fucking beautiful lost in pleasure.

His high cheekbones were flushed gorgeous pink, sharp jaw clenched, cheek muscle twitching. His long fingers dug into the woman’s thighs to hold her up and against the wall, in place for his thrusting hips. You could see the muscles of his thighs and ass flexing as he slammed harder into her, driving muffled gasps of pleasure from her lips.

You were grateful for that, as her sounds would hopefully mask your speeding breathing and racing heart. With one last, too long look, drawn by Steve's speeding thrusts, you drug your eyes and self away. You retreated as silently as you had come, praying neither of them had noticed your presence.

Once you thought you were far enough away, you took off running as best you could to your rooms, taking the long way around to avoid Steve and his companion at all costs. Back behind the closed door of your rooms, you dropped the pie and soda you still carried on your coffee table and ran to your bedroom.

In the privacy of your bed, you let your body rule. Sliding your hand between your thighs, you let yourself imagine being in the blonde’s place, your flesh between Steve’s teeth, your arms around his neck, your hands in his hair. As you began to rub circles into your clit, you envisioned Steve’s hands digging into the flesh of your thighs, holding you up and open for the slam of his hips against yours, driving his cock into you with the same relentless rhythm you’d just witnessed. Between your own fevered imaginings and the heated scene seared into your memory, you were coming in no time flat.

With a shuddering moan, you climaxed imagining Steve’s eyes on yours as he fucked you like a madman against a wall.

A while later, despite your physical satisfaction, you stared at the ceiling in horror.

How were you going to face him tomorrow?

You decided not to. Face him, that is. You opted instead to avoid any kind of social setting that day, pretending general surliness to keep everyone, but most especially Steve, at arm’s length.

You skipped breakfast entirely, not wanting to have to make small talk with anyone when you knew you’d be too busy remembering the line of Steve’s jaw as it clenched in passion. You waited until you knew much of the team would be in the gym before you joined them. To make sure you could avoid any interactions, you’d put on your leave-me-alone aura.

When you'd first joined the team, you'd made it clear that there would be days that you needed to be left alone. Those days were signified by the enormous gray hoodie enveloping your torso. Today you wore it over workout gear. You'd pulled the hood up, slid sunglasses onto your nose, and put earbuds into your ears before you'd walked through the door.

Every eye in the room turned toward you, recognized the hoodie and slid away as you crossed toward the outside door. Everyone knew you jogged by yourself on gray hoodie days. Since you studiously did not look at him as you walked out, you didn't see that Steve's eyes stayed on you, his gaze darkening as you left.

Steve's mood, already dark and mean, blackened viciously. With a snarl, he turned on the punching bag Bucky was holding for him. Bucky merely lifted a brow, easily reading Steve's moods. He could always tell when Steve had let his ex-girlfriend get her hooks into him again.

Steve was cursing himself. He'd known better than to let her drag him back in, even for a night, but the craving for you had been riding him hard when she'd texted. He'd been watching you take turns tossing popcorn and catching it in your mouth with Bucky while you debated movie choices with Sam and his heart had been sighing romantically at how sweet and beautiful he thought you were.

He also thought you firmly off-limits. Not only were you a member of his team, and that was no small matter, any change in dynamic possibly detrimental to the safety of everyone, you'd also never given him any indication you'd be receptive. You joked and teased him, but you did that with literally everyone; you were generally the friendly sort.

You also occasionally flirted with him, but it was delicate, almost innocent. There seemed to be more heat behind your flirting with Sam or Bucky. Still, the three of you were the sort of friends that gave each other endless shit, so there didn't seem to be anything to your flirting with them, either. Sam and Bucky always included Steve in the endless shit-giving, too, but you and he had never gotten to that point.

He wished he knew how to talk to you, how to become your friend even if he couldn't tell you he was half in love with you. Every time he tried, however, he ended up feeling too shy to open up for real. You'd always been open and encouraging, but he could tell his shyness looked like rejection to you. It left Captain America perpetually between you.

He'd been lamenting exactly that when she'd texted him, trying to draw him back into her sphere where she could punish him for not loving her enough. Most of the time he was able to resist, but he was feeling particularly sad and lonely. Watching you sit across the room from him, happy and within reach, yet somehow still a million miles away was both temptation and torment. Torn apart by it, he'd been willing to take the punishment to forget what he couldn't have, if only for a moment.

Until he'd been inside her, wishing she was you, and his heightened senses told him they were no longer alone. His inexplicable ability to recognize you by sound and scent alone had set him off and he'd come helplessly, with stuttering hips. He knew he'd heard someone's heart besides hers and his own, and he'd prayed it hadn't really been you who'd caught him in the corridor, that it had only been his own fevered imagination and desperate need that made him think he'd caught the edge of your scent.

He'd been in a foul mood thanks to both the worry of that and the ugly scene he'd endured at her hands. He'd already damned himself for answering her text at all, let alone allowing things to go so far, when, seconds after his climax, she'd murmured in his ear, her voice full of venom, "Thinking of her, again, were we?"

She'd been talking about Peggy; she didn’t know about you. They’d broken up before you’d joined the team, so it had been easy to hide his feelings for you from her, too aware she'd use it against him at the earliest opportunity, the way she did with Peggy. She'd never forgive him for not loving her the way she wanted. She couldn't seem to stop hurting them both because of it.

Then you'd walked in and out without looking at him and he'd known for certain. You'd walked in on him fucking his ex and now you couldn't meet his eye. His already foul mood shifted to something black and ugly as his fists pounded into the bag in frustration.

Outside, you breathed a sigh of relief. You'd made it past the first hurdle. If you could get through this day without humiliating yourself, you'd consider yourself home free. You were sure you could deal with this with just a little more time and distance. You just needed to put Steve back in the No-Sex box where you’d put all the hot people you worked with every day.

You were trying to ignore the fact that just the sight of Steve out of the corner of your eye had your memory flitting back to the sight of his fingers digging deliciously into flesh.

You put the image out of your mind and took two deep breaths as you started to stretch. A nice long run, a cold shower, and something other than last night's pie to eat and you could handle this.

"Y/N?"

You shrieked and jerked in response to the sound of Steve saying your name, hitting your head on the engine you were currently under while you worked on it.

"H-h-h-h-hi Steve!" Deeply grateful for the prototype engine that currently hid everything from your hips up, most thankfully your face, you rolled your eyes at the stuttering giggle. You despised the clear sign of the girlish crush you’d developed overnight, but in your defense, you hadn't been expecting anyone to come talk to you on a gray hoodie day, least of all Steve. He was kind and friendly, but he didn't seem to have much to say to you.

You'd tried to accept it, accept that not everyone was going to click with you, but you really liked Steve. His friendship with Sam and Bucky told you how warm and funny he could be with people he liked and his camaraderie with Natasha made it clear he could be friends with women, and the best of friends, no less. You couldn't help a little bit of hurt feelings that he stayed resolutely apart no matter how you tried to welcome him in. You now realized it was that little burn of resentment that had allowed you to ignore how attracted you were until you’d been confronted with his base sexuality.

Altogether, you'd been blindsided by the sound of Steve's voice, especially as you'd been belting along with the stereo where your phone was blasting your garage playlist. You liked fast and loud when you worked with your hands. Not expecting visitors, you hadn’t been bothering with the leave-me-alone attitude, singing happily as you tinkered. “Volume down fifty percent,” you said, and the music immediately dropped to a murmur.

You realized when he stayed silent that he was probably waiting for you to slide out from under the engine. Fat fucking chance. "Sorry, Steve. I literally have my hands full right now." The lie tripped lightly off your tongue, easier when you didn't have to look at him, but your discomfort was still coming through in your voice, loud and clear to anyone who knew you well. You hoped if he heard it, he didn't recognize it. "But go ahead and talk to me. What's up?"

Steve was both grateful and disappointed that he wasn't looking at your face. He was almost certain, based on your reaction, that you were the person who'd caught him last night, but he was not at all certain anymore that you were upset by it. You sounded… embarrassed? Ashamed?

He felt a rush of chagrin at the thought and spoke with less care than he had planned. "Were you in the hallway late last night?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he winced in horror. He hadn't meant to ask you that at all, let alone that baldly.

"NO!" You shouted the word, the sound strangled, and so clearly a lie, you merely let your head fall back with a thump as you tried to salvage it anyway. "Why do you ask?" you squeaked.

You turned your head until you were looking at Steve's boots when you heard what sounded like a snort from him. You'd never heard that sound from him before, at least not thanks to you, and it had you smiling despite the situation. "You're as bad a liar as I am," he said, his voice rich and warm and so appealing it almost made you slide on your creeper out from where you were wedged to peer into his face.

You resisted, however, too guilty to look at him straight on. You'd stood watching for far too long last night to have the moral high ground in this conversation. You were terrified he'd noticed, the shame of it miserably crawling up your neck and over your scalp. When he fell silent, you started to squirm with it.

Steve opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, unsure how to go on. He wanted to apologize, but now it seemed you’d rather not talk about it. He also didn't know how to apologize. How could he tell you that he was in the hallway because he couldn't stand to have his ex in his space again? He opened his mouth, still not certain what he was about to say, but painfully aware that he’d been silent for far too long when you’d asked him a question.

Before he could speak, however, the silence had worn you down, and you sang like a canary, the words coming out in a rush of guilt-laden confession.

“Look, I know I might have stood there too long, but I was expecting the chance to ruin Bucky’s night or something and I was really surprised when it was you. Can we just pretend it never happened?” The final question came out on a choked high-pitched squeal that shamed you, but the humiliation was so intense, the guilt so over-whelming, you could only close your eyes and hope Steve took pity on you.

“How--” Steve stopped when his voice croaked a little to clear his throat and try again. He was embarrassed, confused, and sick at the thought that you might have seen the fight between him and his ex, heard the things she'd said to him. “How long did you stand there?”

The silence dragged on long enough that Steve actually felt his knees dissolve as his stomach threatened to revolt.

Meanwhile, you were laying, your head pillowed on the little cushion at the head of your creeper, your body limp as you stared in utter horror at the shiny metal you'd been working on without seeing it. You closed your eyes as your stomach churned.

Steve may have suspected that you'd stumbled upon him last night, but his words made clear that he had had no idea what you'd done. How could you possibly explain? There was no way to tell him you'd stood dumbstruck, watching him fuck someone, without giving away that you'd been mesmerized by the sight of him given over to lust, to passion. He'd just been so fucking beautiful.

But he hadn't come in here to confront you and you'd just sold yourself out. You'd never wanted a hole to open up and swallow you the way you did in this never-ending moment. You didn't want to answer, but the silence had stretched to the breaking point and if one of you didn't say something, you were pretty sure you were going to go stark raving mad.

"Okay," you said, your voice carrying a defensive tone and you were grateful all over again that Steve couldn't see your face. "I'm not a pervert or anything. I wasn't watching on purpose."

Steve's knees almost buckled in relief as he finally understood that you were embarrassed, rather than angry and upset, or possibly worse, judging him. "I shouldn't have been in the hallway." Steve rushed to reassure, not wanting you to think he was here because he was angry. "I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

You figured it was a good thing that you were kind of wedged under Tony's latest prototype. You were, apparently, entirely too susceptible to Steve. You could hear the genuine remorse and worry in his voice and it made you want to shimmy out there and cuddle him. A complete puddle, you responded as thoughtlessly as he when he rushed to reassure, your breath signaling your desire to astute ears.

"I wasn't mad, Steve," you half-laughed, the image of his neck muscles, taut with lust, flitting across your mind’s eye. "Let's just forget it." You slid over enough that you could reach out and give a thumbs up.

Steve laughed when your hand came into view, the tone in your voice making his heart beat faster, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. "Thanks, y/n," he replied, his voice warm with the affection he always felt for you but had never known how to express. He was almost glad that this had happened. The Captain seemed to have faded. He didn't know if it was because he could set it aside or because you could stop seeing it. Either way, he was beginning to feel like your friend.

"So, we're cool, right?" You said it hopefully, praying he'd let you off the hook.

Steve laughed out loud, and the sound was so pretty and warm you could hardly stand to stay still. You wanted so badly to see his face lit up with laughter you inspired. You stayed in place, however, still too terrified that he'd see your almost desperate lust for him if he could see your face right now. You needed a little more distance between yourself and the memory of the way the muscles in his thighs flexed and released as he thrust--

"We're cool." Steve was smiling at the thumb you were making dance in response, utterly charmed by you. He was trying to think of something else to say, wanting to stretch this time out longer, but nothing was coming to mind. With nothing else, "Thanks, again." He cringed. "I'll let you get back to work, then."

"I'll see you later." You said it warmly, catching a hint of the discomfort and seeking to alleviate it even if you didn't understand its cause. You had this newfound overwhelming urge to make Steve happy. You wished it wasn't partly because you really wanted to replace Hallway Blonde.

Steve turned and started to walk out, a smile on his face in response to the quiet humming noises you were making absently as the clink of your tools against metal started up again. He was halfway to the door when he realized that you'd never actually answered the question.

You were starting to hum along with the music as you got back to tinkering when Steve's voice rang out. "But… how long did you watch?"

"What?!" Blindsided, convinced you were home free, you had absolutely no defense or guile and the word was so drenched in pained guilt there was no way Steve didn't hear it.

"You did watch," he pointed out, turning back around with new determination, the guilt in your voice clear to him, but yet unexplained. "But I asked how long, and you didn't answer."

"Of course I did." Your voice was raspy and painfully unconvincing. If you'd been the slightest bit prepared for any of this, maybe you wouldn’t be fucking it up so hard. You cleared your throat and continued. "Not, like, a pervy amount of time, but a… justifiably surprised amount of time. I didn’t have a stopwatch on me.” You tried really hard to sound vaguely irritated and a little offended that you had to explain, and you mostly succeeded.

Steve stood next to the engine, looking down at your legs, jiggling in apparent anxiety. He was considering his options. He didn't want to get overly physically pushy and drag you out from under there so that he could look at you, but he also really wanted to see your face. He felt like he needed to understand what was going on underneath this conversation more than he needed anything else.

Steve lay down on the ground so that he could see you where you lay, one arm limp at your side, a socket wrench in your hand, while the other arm was up, your palm across your forehead in dismay. His mouth began to spread in a smile at how utterly adorable he thought you were, even when you'd been obviously lying to avoid having to look at him.

"Hands full, huh?"

"Fuck me!” The expletive burst from your mouth in an explosion, both startled and horrified at being caught. You whipped your head to the side to see Steve laying on his stomach on the floor next to you, his cheek pillowed on his crossed wrists, pretty face smiling sweetly at you.

Too susceptible by half, you turned your face back to the engine in front of you. You were afraid that pretty smile could get you to do anything.

“Will you please come out here so I can see your face when I’m talking to you?” Steve asked it kindly, aware that you were hiding because something embarrassed you. He wanted to ease that embarrassment, show you that you didn’t have to be embarrassed with him. He was too familiar with the sensation to want it to happen to anyone else, least of all you.

“I don’t want to.”

Steve’s lips twitched and he had to stifle his laughter at the petulant tone and cadence to your words. He didn’t move from his spot on the floor. If all he could get was the sight of your profile from under one of Tony’s massive prototypes, it was better than nothing. “Why not?”

“Because I’m humiliated.” You spoke slowly and deliberately, annoyed and anxious because the conversation that you’d thought you’d escaped unscathed had turned around on you. It didn’t help that you could see Steve smiling at you out of the corner of your eye and you were having a hell of a time not crawling out from under the engine and all over him. “The fuck you think?”

As you spoke, Steve could hear your heart start to race but it didn’t have the pounding rhythm of fear. If he wasn’t also afraid that he was merely engaged in wishful thinking, he’d wonder if it was arousal. Once he started considering the possibility, your behavior made more sense, but he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t deluding himself, desperate for you to want him with the same need he had for you, the same need he constantly had to bury beneath the Captain America façade.

“I shouldn’t ask how long you watched, should I?” He could hardly believe he was saying this, knew doing so could change  the dynamic between the two of you as well as the rest of the team, but he wanted you more than he wanted his next breath and the idea that you could want him too was irresistible. “I should ask why you watched,” he continued, his voice lowering with the first hints of desire.

Your wrench fell the ground where you dropped it when you shoved your creeper out from under the engine as you lost your temper. To be fair, the anger was more frustration and panic, than anything else. The shivers of embarrassment running up your spine and over your scalp, easily distracted you from the desire coloring Steve’s voice.

“Oh my god!” You shouted it as you came to your feet. Steve had already leapt to his feet when you burst into motion. You faced him, eyes narrowed, hands on hips. “Because you’re sexy as hell and it was hot, okay? Are you happy now?” Steve’s jaw dropped at the bald statement combined with the hostile tone to your voice.

Gesturing wildly, you continued to rant. “When I realized how I was violating your privacy I turned around and walked away but I’ve felt guilty ever since.” You sneered and the tone did not match the words of your next sentiment by any stretch. “So I’m sorry." With a scoff of irritation, you turned and walked out on a long stride of anger. “Fuck you.”

Once far away from your garage and Steve, you sagged against the wall in horrified dismay.

Did you just yell at Steve that watching him fuck got you hot?

Were you out of your damn mind?

Steve sat in the window seat in his bedroom. He’d picked these rooms because of the wide, deep bench next to tinted glass where he could look out at the woods behind the compound but not feel as he often did, as though he were on display, a fish in a bowl. These moments of peace, alone with his sketchbook in his designated quiet place, sometimes felt like the glue holding him together.

In these moments, he most often sketched you. Today was no exception.

He'd spent the last half hour trying to get right the exact curve of your eyebrows as you'd shouted at him before storming out of your garage. He never wanted to forget the look on your face, as he'd fallen a little more in love with you that day.

Steve had never had the luxury of self-delusion. He'd been born fragile and small to a world both mean and cold. He'd found cruelty far more often than kindness at the hands of others, until a man of rare vision and compassion had seen more deeply and offered him a chance to do more than the body he'd been born into would allow. He'd leapt at the chance, simply because he needed to right the wrongs he saw in the world and no one would let him any other way.

After the serum, however, he'd learned that the eyes stayed cruel even as the blows became pats, the raised fists handshakes, the sneering disdain simpering flattery. He'd learned quickly to see who meant their kindnesses, their compassion, and who sought his company because of his appearance or name. He rarely made mistakes these days, though his most recent was fresh.

Today, your eyebrows had twisted in distress even as your mouth went mobile in fury, the quiver of your voice so slight only his highly sensitive ears could have heard it. The humiliated, guilty misery had been all over you the moment he'd been allowed to see you and his heart had stumbled.

Where another would look at you and see the oil smeared across your cheek, Steve saw in the agitated motion the compassion that fueled the anxiety and humiliation all over you. The tone of your voice revealed the kindness that inspired such guilt; the shine of your eyes gave away the integrity that caused such misery. In short, he'd been attracted to the surface of you, the funny and bright, but the sweet heart beneath had him captivated.

Steve couldn't deny that the attraction was not silent in this contemplation. His brain kept replaying your voice saying that you thought him sexy. He couldn't stop thinking about the implicit admission in your bald statement. You'd wanted to watch.

You'd wanted to watch him.

The thought alone had had him half hard all day. He wanted to show you. He wanted to show you everything.

He couldn't help the fear, however. He was afraid to tell you that, to admit that he'd developed feelings for you that were anything but professional. He worried that to do so would alter a dynamic that worked, that kept all of you safe. He was also terrified that your interest was merely physical and to admit to anything deeper would do nothing but invite your pity.

All his old insecurities rose up to choke him at the same moment he heard his ex's text tone.

I'm sorry, baby. I just get so jealous. Let me make it up to you.

He thought of her pretty perfect lips sneering in fury and something perilously close to hate, then of your dancing thumb and your shamefaced flight. Everything inside him softened in tenderness at your sweetness, your genuine warmth. Reminded that he had a right to kindness and compassion, his heart hardened against the blonde viper that was once again trying to get her fangs into him.

No. All we do is hurt each other. I'm not doing this anymore.

As soon as he hit send, he felt lighter. He wondered if he should leave you alone for a little while before he tried to talk to you again. Because he would absolutely be talking to you again. He needed to know if you felt anything like the electricity that raced over him every time he saw you.

Not doing this anymore? Who the fuck do you think you are?

She hadn't always been like this. Or at least she hid it better at the beginning, until he'd fallen in love with the woman he thought she was. Over time, however, there emerged cruel jealousy from underneath the funny charm that had captivated him. Even in the beginning, however, he couldn't imagine her reacting to anything the way you had. She lacked the empathy.

Steve couldn't help but compare you. You didn’t just compare favorably, there seemed to be no comparison. Most important, your reaction to what had happened told him what kind of heart you had. He had no defense against kindness, strength, and compassion. Whether it was wise or not, he needed to find out if there was anything there. 

He finally listened to Natasha and blocked her number.

Steve went back to his sketch, smiling at the memory of how you’d looked shouting compliments at him, wondering when you’d let him talk to you again.

 … And Chose Me here

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