#i mean he managed to render wade speechless for a bit

[kendyroy]

i really wanna see worstie logan interact with logan from x1-x3. i see worstie absolutely destroying the baby cuz his insults are ten times harsher and he’s legally allowed to say the f word more than once.

like i think he’d find the younger logan pretty annoying and see right through his little bad boy act. not saying that worstie is any more mature or cool but he’s definitely been through a lot more and i’d love to see him react to the sassy “young” version of himself

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART VII — masterlist

concept: a drunken game of never have i ever leads to a failed skinny dip and high sexual tensions, as well as some cuddling and late night confessions. the slowest of slow burns, part eight of many. can be read solo.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: strippin', mild alcohol abuse, sexual tension, aNgSt

author's note: by far my favourite chapter so far, i'm so in my feels about this one. the thing at the end is a more or less direct quote from one of chris' interviews, adapted slightly to fit the story. now if you'll excuse me, i'll be crying in the corner :) prepare for an emotional rollercoaster—

Never Have I Ever was a dangerous game.

Never Have I Ever, mixed with truth or dare and maybe a touch too much alcohol? A lot worse.

The rules of the game were simple: propose something you've never done, or had always wanted to do, and if the other person had done it, they'd drink. But there was a catch: should the person who had done it wish it, they could dare the other to do it. If they refused, they had to do another shot, and the game would continue.

There were three things responsible for why you were outside in the chilled night air stripped down to your underwear.

The first to blame was Chris.

You could still remember his ever-so-cocky proclamation, already pouring out a shot for you to take. "Never have I ever gone skinny dipping."

Any doubt he had in his mind of whether or not you had – his assumption unfounded and vaguely unwarranted, but no less true – was immediately banished by your exasperated sigh and your taking of the shot glass from his fingertips.

Which led you to the second thing to blame: alcohol.

Alcohol had you loosened up and far too familiar around him, more bold and daring than sobriety would care for. You always prided yourself on being able to speak your mind, but around Chris, you were often rendered speechless. Or at least a bit more censored.

And so it was alcohol who set you up for the third to blame: yourself.

The shot went down easy – it was the fancy stuff, with a smoother texture than anything you'd ever consumed before, often only being able to afford the cheapest shot on the menu (often reminiscent of rubbing alcohol) when going out with friends – and was followed by an undaunted request slipping past liquored lips. "Alright, well, I dare you to go skinny dipping."

It didn't sound like you, but it was entirely you. And once the words were said, there was no taking them back.

An unidentifiable look crossed Chris' face, gone almost instantly, replaced by the furrow of his brow in mild confusion, before morphing into a lopsided mischievous grin. "Only if you come with me."

And so there you were, half naked and shuddering in the breeze that toyed with the ends of your hair.

"You were being serious?"

Chris had come outside to join you, and you found a hint of annoyance at the fact that he was still fully clothed.

"Deadly," you managed to get out past the chattering vibration of your teeth.

"You do know that skinny dipping means fully nude, right? Otherwise it doesn't count."

"I know," you bit back. You had your arms folded over yourself, suddenly self conscious under his heavy gaze.

He made no effort to disguise his appreciation, alcohol clouding his better judgement. Heated blue eyes raked over your figure, languid, slow. The tip of his tongue darted out to swipe across his lips.

His lids were hooded, easily dropping into a cheeky wink.

There was something about his hungry gaze on you that ate away at all inhibitions, and you dropped your arms, revealing yourself fully to him.

The way his breath caught was almost entirely inaudible, but you heard it nonetheless as you stalked forward, adding a confident sway to your hips. "Take off your shirt."

The command was so assertive, you surprised even yourself.

He didn't hesitate, immediately shedding the article of clothing and tossing it carelessly to the side.

His eyes were fixated on you, his breaths heavy and stuttering. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears as your heart rate picked up.

As you drew closer, his eyes became more visible. The pupils were blown out – consuming almost every and any hint of blue – and there was something unmistakably feral lurking in the depths.

You were practically chest to chest, so close your breaths mingled, carrying the taste of liquor, so close you could feel his erratic heartbeat syncing to your own.

A tentative hand raised itself, finding purchase on his chest. His skin was searingly warm against your cold fingertips, and it was either their chill or something entirely else that caused the shiver to run unbidden down Chris' spine.

"I need you to do something for me," you whispered. Your voice had taken on a sultry tone, one that had Chris' eyelids fluttering.

"Anything." His voice was husky, low. Intoxicating. "I'll do anything."

His head was ducking lower, his attention solely dominated by your lips, the way the lower one was caught between your teeth in an almost shy nibble, such a stark contrast to the assuredness of your voice and actions. When you spoke, your voice was a honeyed hiss. "Don't fight it."

And then you pushed.

So preoccupied with you – everything about you – he had been, that the push into the awaiting water of the pool wrenched a strangled yelp of surprise from him.

Your laughter was loud in the still night air, a stillness that was broken also by the sudden splash and the many more to follow as Chris floundered in the water.

When he resurfaced, he was livid.

"That wasn't fair."

"Fair was not on the books, Evans." Your apologetic smile was entirely negated by the amused lilt in your voice.

"Come on, help me out." He waved you over to where he was standing, somewhat dangerously close to the edge. Almost, but not quite, within arms reach of you – you stood just beyond his grasp. His hand was extended expectantly, eyebrow cocked. "These jeans aren't chlorine friendly."

"Sorry to spoil your wardrobe, Captain Armani, but how stupid do you really think I am?"

You had seen it a thousand times before: someone asks for help to get out of the pool, only to have the naïve saint fall victim and pulled into the icy depths. You were no saint, and you certainly weren't going to fall victim. Specifically not to Chris Evans, and his adorable pout, and those oh so enticing ocean eyes.

He sighed, disheartened, slapping the water to splash you.

The squeal that tore itself from your throat was nothing short of hilarious as you dodged the droplets.

Chris waded to the edge, propping his hands on the side of the pool.

The very act of him pulling himself out of the water was sheer hypnotism at its finest. Water rolled off him, glistening like a thousand stars in the moonlight. The rippling water – lit by the lights in the pool – cast waving patterns all along his back, the dents of his muscles being lost only to be highlighted again.

You watched him, mouth slightly ajar in awe, as he hoisted himself out of the pool, twisting his body to land, sitting on the edge, jean clad legs dangling in the rippling water.

The sound of wet denim slapping on the pool tiles from him sitting was enough to snap you out of it.

He was breathing heavy, the shock of the water still working its way out of his system as he gazed up at the sky, hands running through his dirty blond hair to slick it away from his face.

He looked beautiful. He looked beautiful, and suddenly, it registered to you that you had been about to kiss.

Was that why you had pushed him? Panic? Sheer unholy panic at the prospect of a drunken kiss?

You swallowed thickly and reached a shaky hand to his shoulder. You were so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but you weren't touching him. Not yet.

When he spoke, his voice was strained. "What are we doing?"

At his words, your hand dropped to your side. His shoulders tensed momentarily – almost as if they had sensed your closeness and coiled in anticipation – before they slackened. He slowly turned to face you.

By the time you recognized the look, it was too late.

You hit the water, breath crushed from your lungs as you struggled to reconcile sudden wetness with the events that occurred.

With lightning quick efficiency, Chris had grabbed you and all but thrown you over his head, face first in the water.

You sputtered as you clambered for purchase, finally finding somewhere shallow enough for you to stand.

No sooner had you broken the surface, Chris had leapt into the water again, sending a fresh wave over you.

You splashed him directly in the face. "It's not funny, asshole."

"Oh, on the contrary, sweetheart," he grinned. You almost wanted to punch yourself for the way you melted just a little at the pet name. You were angry, not whatever this was. "It's hilarious."

——————

After a considerable amount of time had passed, you both dragged yourself from the water, laugh drunk and not anywhere close to sober in spite of the shock the cold had introduced to your system.

That was evident enough in the way Chris caught you as you almost tripped on your way out of the pool.

"Woah, hey, easy now," he chuckled.

Your thanks was a playful shove of his shoulder before you staggered over to your clothes. You groaned, shivering in the night, your underwear doing nothing to preserve heat. Your clothes were wet; an unhappy side effect from all the splashing and messing around in the pool.

You sighed, pretty sure your lips were already turning blue.

That was when Chris merely – but oh so sweetly – extended his discarded shirt to you in offering.

A silent exchange passed.

You shook your head, he raised his brow. He waved the shirt insistently. You rolled your eyes, plucking it from his water pruned fingers, and quickly pulled it over your head.

It smelled like him, and you almost deluded yourself into thinking it was still warm from his body. If anything, it was just a much needed layer against the cold.

After you had collected your things, you both darted inside, almost visibly relaxing in the sudden wave of warmth.

Dodger, who had remained unconcerned with your late night swim for the most part, raised his head in acknowledgement before flopping back down in his bed to go back to sleep. It was almost laughable to think of him as the energetic furball he was earlier that day, but then again, he had every reason to be exhausted.

Chris silently excused himself to his room – wet feet slapping loudly on the ground, jeans heavy with water and dripping – and you quickly slipped off your bra in his absence, worried it would soak through his shirt.

It had already begun to smell more like chlorine than him, and you felt an inconsolable – and, in the grand scheme of things, highly minuscule – loss.

You sank down on the couch, waiting for his return. He had only managed to get you out of the pool with the promise of a movie to wind down the night, and he had even given you the highly sought after privilege of choosing said film.

"Oh, so now you decide to put on a shirt."

Chris had come back, clad in soft grey sweatpants and a white short sleeve that must've been a size too small by the way it clung to his muscular frame. "And you've still neglected to put on pants. Typical."

You rolled your eyes, shifting to give him some space on the couch.

"So," he started, almost apologetically. "I know I said you could pick the movie but we have a rule in this house – Disney movies only, so you'll either have to be very persuasive or have to endure my singing..."

———————

You were a lot of things – avid film fanatic being one of them.

You could safely boast having watched all Harry Potter films in one sitting, dashing to the bathroom only between end credit sequences, and ordering takeout – perfectly timed to the end credits as well – and consuming cereal as your main forms of sustenance.

You weren't going to call it healthy, but it certainly was impressive.

So why, only halfway through The Little Mermaid, were you feeling the onset of drowsiness beginning to claw your eyes shut?

It must've been the alcohol. You could still taste it on your tongue, thick in the back of your throat.

And although you tried to fight it, your eyes were drifting shut with every passing song, every one of Chris' adorable performances and–

You woke to your cheek pressed against something warm and... moving?

You opened your bleary eyes. At least you tried to – you were still on the precipice of falling back asleep. Your pillow stirred, and suddenly, you were wide awake and fully aware of your surroundings.

You were in the lounge, on the couch, where you had fallen asleep on–

"Hey."

Chris greeted you softly, the warmest of smiles on his lips. He had been idly scrolling through his phone as the credits rolled, the movie having finished not a minute before.

Through the windows, darkness stretched towards the sparkle of the inner city, and in your clouded head, you registered Chris' hand carding gently through your damp hair.

You heard the distinct sound of Chris' phone locking as he set it aside, attention fully on you now. It was almost instantaneous, the way his face lit up seeing you.

"I..." Your tongue was still heavy with sleep as you tried to untangle yourself from him to no avail. Exhaustion was still thick in your body, and it was obvious to him, too. "I'm sorry, I must've fallen asleep."

He shushed you, the rumble of his voice soothing you. "Don't worry about it, just go back to sleep..."

It didn't take much convincing on your part.

At the recognition of his consent, you all but fell back down onto him.

You were almost grateful; the weight of his legs – entwined with yours – was somewhat reassuring and near impossible to extricate yourself from in your current state. Not that you even wanted to.

He hadn't the heart to tell you that one of his legs had gone to sleep about ten minutes ago. Not with you lying on him, looking so calm and at peace. Something stirred in his chest.

And a full blown heart attack was almost brought on by what you murmured next, muffled by his chest but no less audible.

"Hey, Chris?"

He hummed in response.

"Why me?" You were fighting the sleep that was slowly claiming you again, and that question had been nagging at you since you had first moved in. You just never had the courage to ask it, but with more alcohol coursing through your system than blood...

You didn't need to elaborate. He knew what you meant. Why you, exactly.

"I live in hope everyone has these experiences, whether it's someone you met and spent the whole night with, or even a meeting that lasted five seconds at a train station. Moments that were so personal and so special, it was hard to explain to somebody else."

Emotion was thick in his voice, but it was almost entirely lost on you. You nodded slightly in understanding, encouraging him to finish.

"I decided that I wanted you in my life, and when I saw you again, it was almost like the universe was giving me a second chance. It was like it was telling me to not let this one go."

And he didn't. At least not until morning.

[reid-fiction]

Do You Still Believe In Love?

In which Spencer takes a big step

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ebb and flow of the tide was the only thing keeping you focused right now. Had it not been so cold, you would have been tempted to shed your clothes and wade in, just to clear your head. Instead, you had to settle for sitting yourself down on the edge of the river bank and listening to the soft splash of the water every time it hit the barrier.

You had never been to Alaska before, but it was proving to be far more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. On a day such as this, you were happy for the beauty of the scenery. The case had been anything but pleasant, and there were images etched into your mind that weren’t going to dissipate any time soon. Typically, you were able to compartmentalize the things you saw on the job and not let them bother you once you were on the plane home, but something about this one had gotten to you. So much so that you had needed to sneak away by yourself in the early hours of the morning before the rest of the team was awake and getting ready to leave. 

That was how Spencer found you; arms wrapped around your legs with your chin resting on your knees as you stared out into the water. He frowned as he got closer, seeing that you were only wearing a light jacket. It was still early in the morning and although Alaska wasn’t nearly as cold as someone might expect, the air was chilly and the added breeze coming off the water likely wasn’t helping.

“Hey,” he said, walking over to you and taking a seat beside you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I woke up and you weren’t in bed.”

It was true. You had woken up and snuck out of your shared bed with Spencer before he had a chance to notice. The lodge you were staying in was almost deathly quiet when you had gone downstairs - a fitting feeling considering what you had been through the last few days.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I just wanted to get a little air before we left.”

Your reasoning, thought innocent enough, didn’t seem to settle well with Spencer. He knew you well enough by now to know when something was bothering you, and also when you were attempting to downplay something.

“It’s kind of cold down here,” he stated, casually slinging his arm around your shoulder and shuffling in a bit closer. “Aren’t you chilly in just that jacket?”

“I’m fine,” you responded, halfheartedly. 

That was when Spencer knew that something must really be up. Normally, you were a sucker for any sort of snuggling from him, but his arm around your shoulder seemed to have no effect on you. You were still sitting with your arms wrapped around yourself and didn’t even so much as lean into his touch.

“What’s wrong?” he finally sighed, trying to catch your gaze. “You’re not normally like this.”

Instead of directly answering his question, you tilted your head back and gazed up at the sky.

“I never realized how beautiful it is up here. You don’t see clear skies like this back in Virginia.”

“Mmm,” Spencer nodded. “It’s also one of the best places to see the Northern Lights if you’re here at the right time of year.”

“It’s like...it feels like nothing bad should happen in a place where the sky is this clear, you know?”

You felt Spencer’s hand squeeze your shoulder a bit, and you knew that his eyes were fixed on you but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

After a decent string of silence, you finally let out a bit of a shuddered breath.

“Sometimes, I worry that this job is going to ruin everything,” you said, quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“The stuff we see,” you continued, “it’s so hard sometimes for me to just go home and pretend like I haven’t just seen the worst of humanity. Even looking at this water right now, there’s a part of my brain that keeps thinking that someone’s probably going to come along and pollute it because that’s what people do.”

You could feel tears stinging at your eyes, but managed to hold them back.

“I don’t want to get to the point where I can’t even enjoy a sunrise because I’ve become too jaded, Spence. How can I ever truthfully tell people that there’s good in the world when I spend 75 percent of my time dealing with terrible people who do terrible things? How can I honestly say, ‘look how beautiful this sky is’ when I also feel obligated to tell them not to walk in the woods alone at night because someone might be waiting for them with a machete? The longer I do this job, the harder it’s getting for me to remember and believe in the good stuff, and that scares the hell out of me. ”

Spencer was silent for a moment as he considered his answer. He understood completely what you were talking about - everyone who worked in the BAU had gone through moments like this - but he was unsure how to properly help you through it both as your co-worker and as your boyfriend. Finally, he nudged your shoulder and pointed up to the sky again.

“That sky up there...you said that you can’t see it when we’re back in Virginia, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Pollution from big cities has a tendency to block out how beautiful the natural sky is, but the sky itself never actually changes. Even if the earth turns and the stars are in different positions, the basic makeup of the universe is always the same.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and lifted your head to look at him. Spencer kept his gaze on you and reached up to tuck some hair behind your ear.

“The people in the world who are good, they’re the majority and they never change. Sometimes...the pollution just gets in the way. That’s why you have to go somewhere like this every so often, just so you can still see the sky for what it really is. If someone back home who had never been in a place like this tried to tell you that the sky only ever looked the way it does in the city, would you believe them?”

You shook your head no.

“Why not?” Spencer pressed, trying to get you to go along with his analogy.

“Because I’ve seen it without all the pollution.”

“So, you still know that the true beauty of the sky exists, even though you can’t see it all the time?”

His reasoning finally clicked in your head and you couldn’t help but smile at bit as you nodded.

“Then that’s the way you have to look at people, too. Just because this job deals with all the pollution in the world, doesn’t mean that’s all there is. You just have to make sure you take time to see it again.”

You didn’t even bother trying to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks anymore. Spencer caught one with his thumb and swiped it away, as you looked at him in almost a sense of awe. Your boyfriend could sometimes be a human encyclopedia and rattle off facts that you didn’t understand, but sometimes he also said things so profound and incredible that it rendered you speechless.

“What about love?” he whispered, leaning in a bit closer until his forehead was nearly resting on yours.

“What about it?”

“Do you still believe in love?”

“Mmm.”

“Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Why?” you asked.

Spencer took a pause, pursing his lips a bit and studying your face.

“Because I love you,” he finally replied. “And I’d hate for you not to believe me.”

You nearly lost your breath when you registered what he had just said. Neither of you had gone for the big “I love you” yet. You had been together for a while, but had taken things slow from the beginning, and you knew Spencer had never told anyone that he loved them before - neither had you - so there was no great rush. 

A fresh wave of tears threatened you now, but not for any reason other than pure happiness.

“You do?” you croaked, wanting to make sure you had heard him right and weren’t imagining things.

“I do,” he nodded, confidently. “Very much.”

You reached over to caress his cheek and leaned in to peck him on the lips, ever so softly.

“I love you too.”

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