#i mean i’d be concerned but I think it would be much better for Chris if he did- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magicshopaholic · 2 years

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In Time (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: He's everywhere. Even months after your break-up, Taehyung is everywhere, even when you wish he would just disappear.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Word count: 10.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, heartbreak, anxiety, smoking, alcohol, fast cars

A/N: Set 7-8 months after the events of Austin, but can be read standalone. If you want to be added to my taglist, drop me a comment/ask.

Tagging: @bbl32, @ssaboala, @dreaming-with-happiness, @kflixnet, @k-radio

Credits to the loveliest beta readers @meirkive and @jeoniius: thank you so so much Mei and Tannie for all the feedback that gave me the confidence to upload a fic like this. Wouldn't be possible without you two <3

Listen to: “stormy weather” by etta james

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

“Annyeonghaseyo!”

Dilara smiles tightly and nods, muttering the greeting back to the woman at the counter. “Kamsahamnida,” she says quietly when she hands her the bottle of water, nodding slightly.

“Your Korean has gotten better,” remarks Lexie as they walk towards the paddock on Thursday morning. “I dunno how, since you’ve got no reason to speak it anymore, but…” She shrugs.

Dilara frowns. “I said hello and thank you,” she reminds her. “And how can you tell?”

“Well, it’s more about the confidence with which you say it,” amends Lexie easily, pulling her long brown hair into a ponytail. “Plus, Chris told me. Apparently you spoke to someone at the airport?”

Dilara rolls her eyes. “I swear, his pity is worse than his insensitivity.”

“It’s not pity,” she disagrees in an admonishing tone. “He’s just… concerned. We know this won’t be the easiest weekend for you.”

“It’s been, like, four months, Lex. I’m over it.” When Lexie answers with nothing but a look, Dilara sighs. “Fine, I’m not fully over it but at least there aren’t any surprises this time,” she reasons, thinking back to the debacle in London two weeks ago with a shudder. “It’s the Korean Grand Prix - there really isn’t anywhere else I’d expect BTS to be this weekend.”

“That’s true.” Lexie sounds relieved. “And in any case, it’s a new track for everyone except Lewis and Seb - oh, and Alonso. The rest of you will have enough on your plate trying to ace it. D’you want to do a track walk later?”

Dilara answers in the affirmative as they near the Red Bull garage. The late June sun is warm but not glaring, and she tries to appreciate the fact that she’s one of the first drivers here this weekend, meaning the paddock is still relatively quiet. As the eighth race in a twenty-two race calendar, she hasn’t given up on the possibility that the Korean GP could be her chance to finally turn things around for the season. While the start was terrible, the races in Monaco and Great Britain helped steady her somewhat. Korea, despite whatever else it may represent, is going to be about nothing but the race as far as she’s concerned.

About twenty feet away from the paddock, Chris Park, who reached before them, spots them and waves before walking over. “Annyeonghaseyo!” he greets, looking tall and positively jolly as he takes off his sunglasses.

“Happy to be on home ground, are we?” Dilara asks dryly, looking around for someone to tell them where to head. “And, no, I don’t know how to say that in Korean so don’t even ask,” she adds quickly, pre-empting his next question.

His shoulders slump momentarily. “Fine. Where’s Freddie?”

“Went to the hotel to shower,” supplies Lexie, looking impressively nonchalant around Chris. She turns to Dilara. “Do you have PR now?”

“It’s Thursday, so probably…” She trails off as she sees Vicki Lloyd, Red Bull’s press officer, striding towards them.

“Hey, you lot,” she greets in her typical fashion, giving her and Lexie one-armed hugs. A thirty-something woman, always fit and poised even in jeans and Red Bull t-shirt, Vicki is the one person everyone takes seriously, sometimes even more than Christian.

A chorus of “hey”s go up from the three of them before she turns to Dilara.

“Dilara, we need you back in the enclosure for a PR thing with the rest of the team,” she begins immediately, reading from a list on her phone. “Then there’s a meet and greet thing with BTS -” Dilara’s stomach jolts and she deliberately avoids her friends’ eyes “- with a few pictures and stuff… meet with Helmut... Alright, then you can get back to the hotel and freshen up before the show in the evening.”

Dilara stares at her. “Before the what?”

Vicki looks up at her blankly. “The show,” she repeats, as though that explains everything. “BTS will perform, won’t they? Apparently, you can’t have an event in South Korea with BTS and not have them perform. You and Max, as the two drivers, will have to be on stage to introduce them and do some audience work with -”

“Back up - we have to do what?”

This time, she looks slightly sympathetic. “Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much. But don’t worry, Christian will mostly do it all. That’s what a team principal is for, right?” She shrugs. “You just have to stand on stage and smile when they come up.”

It’s the one thing Dilara doesn’t think she’s capable of doing but before she can grill Vicki any further, the press officer hurries away, reminding her as she leaves to be back in the paddock by four pm.

Dilara turns slowly towards Chris and Lexie. “Well, that’s a fucked up day to look forward to,” mutters Chris, and she can’t help but scoff in agreement. They head to the garage and she drifts away to her changing room for a bit of freshening up before going straight to PR, hoping to savour her last few BTS-free moments before this shitfest of a weekend.

The PR junket is pretty fun, overall; it’s another taste test with a bunch of Korean food, the staple sketch for every race outside of North America and England. As always, she and Max as the Red Bull drivers are joined by Pierre and Jehan, the drivers for Red Bull’s junior team, AlphaTauri. It’s a good group, reinforced by how they’d had her back during the fashion show in London earlier this month, and she tries to enjoy this as much as she can.

Once it’s done, they head back to the hotel, a reasonably basic one just outside the circuit in Yeongam. On her way back to the paddock after she’s freshly showered and appropriately beautified (but still in a Red Bull t-shirt and skinny jeans), she starts to hear noise. Well, not noise, exactly - more like the best part of any F1 weekend: fans.

It’s a familiar rush, seeing so many excited people milling around wearing F1 gear. She also spots some in BTS merchandise, but she finds she can’t even fault them for it. If she were in a position where she had no history with the band and wasn’t a public figure, she might have been one of them. There are billboards and Army bombs being waved around and she realises with a sinking feeling that even after everything, there’s still a tiny, tiny bit of excitement in her stomach at watching BTS perform live.

Dilara tries not to think about it, for it isn’t going to help. November was the beginning of something good, March was the end of it, and it wasn’t until two weeks ago during the fashion show that everything came back to haunt her again. That evening had taken her by surprise; she’d spent all day fretting about whether this would be the day that Christian told her that Red Bull wasn’t extending her contract for next year after her terrible start to the season. Even while Lexie helped her get ready, she couldn’t get her mind off the possibility of being without a seat next year.

As it turned out, Christian told her no such thing. The next worst thing happened; BTS was announced as brand ambassadors for Red Bull, as part of the company’s plan to expand further into Asia. The shock in Dilara when she’d seen them walk up on stage was unparalleled, rivaling only the discovery that Christian had told everyone to keep it from her as some sort of surprise. Fangirl, he’d humiliatingly called her in front of everyone including the band, and Dilara had wanted to die.

The rest of the night had gone in processing their presence and doing her best to ignore it. The fashion show was still manageable, but the after party was a different story, and Dilara had been left with no choice but to instruct Max to keep her steadily plied with alcohol throughout. Max, who’d listened in stunned silence when she’d told him about the break up, had found himself feeling uncharacteristically guilty for not warning her and acquiesced to her demand.

After recovering from a horrendous hangover the morning after the event, she’d done nothing but focus on the race the following weekend (Silverstone, Great Britain), managing a double Red Bull podium with Max once again. It made two podiums in the year so far: Monaco a week prior, and Silverstone, two legendary tracks. She should’ve been happy - and she was - but the only two things on her mind were whether these overdue results would be enough for her to get signed again, and the next Grand Prix, which just happened to be Korea, revived after ten long years since Sebastian Vettel dominated the sport.

Dilara doesn’t see the actual band until they come on stage to perform. She and Max are backstage with Christian while they prepare to go on. She tries not to look at them; they aren’t paying too much attention to anyone else either as they get fitted with their mics and a bunch of stylists hover around them, fixing their hair and make-up.

She also tries not to think about how the last time she’d seen them, at the fashion show in London. The alcohol blurred everything, but her constant fear of running into any of them, especially him, is seared into her mind. She remembers avoiding them best as she could, the loud music of the after party, her singular goal of avoiding every member of that band, looking away with a gasp when she’d accidentally met J-Hope’s smiling gaze, hurrying away when she’d bumped into Jungkook in the crowd, and dancing with someone to distract herself until she had to be taken home before she passed out.

Her stomach churns at the thought; seeing them from the corner of her eye now suddenly reminds her that it was most likely Suga who helped her into the cab after the party, his ice blue hair a distinct memory. The idea of her needing any of their help, after everything, is nauseating.

When they’re announced, they go up onstage in a cloud of smoke before the song starts and they start performing their hearts out. It’s not like she can shut her ears; unlike a week ago when she’d finally decided to unblock their hashtags on social media and listen to the new single, this time she can’t turn off her phone the moment she decides it’s too much.

She hadn’t even listened to the entire song; after a point, listening to their voices and the resurfacing of old emotions at their music was overwhelming, and she’d turned it off after the first verse. She vaguely notes that it’s like a grown up version of Converse High, and now that she’s forced to listen to it, she’s also forced to admit that it’s actually not a bad song.

The audience goes batshit crazy as usual; Christian even leans over to her and Max to whisper it, as though afraid of being overheard amidst the loud music. “They’re a big deal, aren’t they?” he remarks in mild wonder, checking his phone, she’s sure, for the script he’s supposed to follow after the performance is over.

Once the song is done, the anchor goes up to congratulate them and they do a bit of audience work, all in Korean. Dilara finds herself becoming more and more jittery with every passing moment, hating everything about this: the people involved, the awkwardness of it, not to mention facing hundreds of people on stage. When they’re finally announced, she follows Christian and Max out on stage to applause.

On her way up, she briefly scans the faces in the audience; while most are cheering, she can also see a few frowns and eye rolls. She bites her lip; it’s not unexpected that some fans still have some resentment towards her for her public proximity to the group, as former brand ambassadors of Honda, Red Bull’s engine supplier. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, wanting to inform them that she has nothing to do with their precious boys anymore, that they’re welcome to them, estrangement and everything.

Dilara feels a nudge to her stomach; when she looks up at Max, annoyed, he mutters at her to smile. She obeys, only somewhat paying attention to Christian and the Korean anchor, a vaguely familiar guy in his thirties maybe, and RM sometimes interjecting when they mention the band. Finally, they officially introduce Dilara Komyshan and Max Verstappen and she sees Christian pass the mic to Max who greets the crowd in English, just like in every other country apart from his own. When he passes the mic to her, she feels her stomach leap unpleasantly, already knowing what’s expected of her.

Heart thumping, she swallows and faces the crowd. “Annyeonghaseyo,” she begins, pausing for the crowd to cheer before continuing in Korean. Christian and Vicki had been clear about this; at least one of the drivers needed to say something in the language and as the only one with a Korean friend, Dilara had been automatically volunteered, her own discomfort be damned.

“I’m really happy to be here and… to race in Korea, finally,” she adds, sighing in relief when she makes it through without messing up any of the words, although she’s sure her accent is rubbish. The crowd cheers even louder and she’s glad, for she’d specifically double-checked this with Chris before getting up on stage, making him send her a voice note where he said the words slowly and clearly.

Her eyes automatically find the group across the stage to see them all smiling or grinning - at least the ones she can see - and she’s horrified to find their approval still means something to her.

I wanted to teach you.

The memory comes unbidden to the forefront of her mind, of a pouting ex-boyfriend and freshly laundered sheets. She lets out a ragged breath which, thankfully, no one seems to notice. Sneaking a look at the band again, she can see RM, Jimin, Suga and J-Hope in front. The others, she presumes, are at the back, being the tallest except for their leader. Dilara can’t see him, for which she’s thankful, and she immediately turns her attention towards the emcee, who’s still pointing at the drivers as he talks.

There’s a bit more crowd work being done before the band is then ushered offstage, leaving just Dilara, Max and Christian to be interviewed by F1 journalists this time. Lee Ji-won, their main reporter, asks them typical questions about the circuit and the season so far, and she feels herself getting slightly more comfortable now that the discussion has moved to her domain. She deliberately averts her gaze from the wings of the stage; she’d caught a flash of blond hair behind the reporter’s shoulder and the last thing she wants is to acknowledge the band any more than she already has.

When the interview ends and they step offstage, she hurries into the wings and immediately bangs into someone’s shoulder. She gasps involuntarily at the impact and feels someone’s hands steady her. “Gwaenchanha?”

Dilara looks up and for a millisecond, her eyes meet Park Jimin’s. The horrifying memory of her last interaction with him claws through her brain and before she can begin to process how his eyes go wide and his mouth opens as if to say something, she flinches out of his grasp and hurries away, not stopping even when she hears him call her name, sounding uncertain.

It doesn’t get too much better after that. There’s a backstage picture everyone needs to pose for and when one of the stylists enthusiastically places her between Jimin and her ex, Max grabs her wrist at the last minute and pulls her towards him and she ends up placed between him and Jungkook.

She tries to smile but it’s so hard. The moment with Jimin especially makes her so nauseous, not just because it’s incredibly reminiscent of the fashion show where she bumped into what felt like fifty percent of the band, but also because if she thinks about it, he was the last member of the band she ever spoke to.

Dilara flees the enclosure after that, feeling rather like she’s escaped a prison with no one but the biggest boyband in the world and its devotees. The weather is thankfully nice and cool, with the sky darkening a bit. There isn’t a place on earth she’s able to blend in less than in an F1 paddock, but for once, there’s a bigger celebrity than the drivers here and she gets to leave in peace.

Three days to go, she tells herself like a mantra, hoping she has no further reasons to interact with them again. They’ll hang around the paddock and the Red Bull garages, she’s sure, but the crowded nature of both those places will at least ensure that she can safely stay the fuck away from them until she’s out of Yeongam.

“Hey, Dilara!”

She freezes. The voice is familiar and instantly makes her stomach churn, and it takes her a moment to realise that it’s none of the seven members of the band. She turns slowly to see one of Max’s mechanics walking towards her, smiling and waving.

Dilara exhales, her heart racing in anticipation. It occurs to her only now, when she sees his face and hears his voice, that this was the person she’d danced with in her extreme state of intoxication at the after party in London. She had spent most of the party drinking on an empty stomach and socialising as much as possible with people who were not BTS… including a member of Max’s pit crew. He’d been charming and fun, and as far as she can remember, had done his best to help her hydrate when her vision had started tunneling. Nothing had happened, but she couldn't lie to herself; after the horror that was that night, she would’ve done whatever it took to forget everything.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” he says, smiling and stopping a couple feet away from her, looking far sunnier than she feels

“Oh, annyeonghaseyo… Jaden,” she guesses, hoping she’s right.

Jaden’s smile widens at her response. “How are you?”

Dilara frowns; he’s spoken in Korean and his accent is near perfect, from what she can tell. “Gwaenchanha,” she answers, watching his reaction.

He doesn’t disappoint. “You speak Korean!” he exclaims, his accent British - British like Chris’s, or hers. “Are you learning or is it just for this weekend?”

“Oh, uh… I watch a lot of k-drama,” she answers lightly. “Oh, and one of my best friends is Korean, too. But I don’t speak it. I know, like… six words.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool. How are you doing, by the way? After…” Jaden trails off and she feels her cheeks heat up.

“Oh, uh… I’m - I’m fine. Made the rookie mistake of drinking too much on an empty stomach,” she explains awkwardly, hoping he doesn’t start reliving the night, drunken dancing, eventual incoherence, or her breakdown which spurred Max to send her home immediately, calling Lexie as he tucked her into the cab.

Fortunately, he doesn’t go that far. “We’ve all been there,” he says easily, wincing mock-sympathetically.

“Right.” Dilara nods slowly, feeling slightly better. “But, um… thanks. I know I was kind of… spinning out towards the end.” She smiles awkwardly.

“Oh, don’t mention it. You weren’t that bad. You were… charming.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, chuckling softly. “And none of my friends were there, so you ended up keeping me company that night, too.”

“I’ll take it.” After a moment where no one speaks, she takes a deep breath. “Anyway… see you around.” She turns to leave when he says her name again.

“Um, I was actually hoping I’d run into you. Outside the garage, I mean,” he adds, one hand going to the back of his head nervously. “Um, do you… do you maybe want to get a drink or something? Like, tomorrow night, maybe?”

Oh. Truly not expecting this, she pauses. “Look, Jaden, I -” She clears her throat. “I’m really sorry if I led you on at the fashion show or if I did anything inappropriate at all. I was really, really drunk and I just -”

“No, no, it’s nothing to do with that,” he assures her quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I dunno, I always thought you were cute, even when I was just a viewer. And you may have been really drunk, but…” Jaden shrugs, a small smile appearing. “At least it broke the ice.”

Dilara chuckles, despite herself. “At least something good came out of that disaster,” she mutters dryly. “But… I don’t know. We work together… and I honestly haven’t seen a restaurant in a five mile radius of this place.”

It’s Jaden’s turn to chuckle. “I can find one. I’m from here,” he says after a moment.

“You’re from Yeongam? Wait, you’re Korean?”

He grins. “Park Jae-won,” he says in answer, holding out a hand for her to shake. “I know I don’t look it. I’m only half-Korean.”

“No, I didn’t -” She takes his hand absently, suddenly remembering that at the aforementioned party where a transparent amount of k-pop was being played for the shiny new ambassadors, Jaden effortlessly sang along to songs she’d never even heard. “Wow. You grew up here?”

“Partly. Then we moved to Incheon, and then London.” He raises his eyebrows. “So? Is that a yes?” When she doesn’t answer, he shoves his hands back into his pockets. “It’s just free practice tomorrow. We’ll come back on time so you can get a good night’s sleep before Qualifying on Saturday.”

“I -” Dilara is genuinely at a loss as to how to answer. While there theoretically wouldn’t be any harm, she just doesn’t know if she’s ready to date yet, much as she hates the reason. She recalls a conversation she'd had with Lexie right after Silverstone a week ago, when she’d sympathetically but firmly advised her to start properly moving on - the main bit of which included dating.

“You don’t have to marry anyone,” she’d reasoned, as they sat in matching splits at the gym. “Just go out, get courted, have some fun and sex.”

It made sense then. Now, faced with the reality, Dilara finds herself getting anxious. But if she’s being honest, a distraction is definitely what she needs, this weekend most of all.

“Well… looks like you’ve thought of everything.” She shrugs, giving him a small smile.

It takes him a moment. “Really?” His face breaks out into a genuinely good-looking smile and Dilara, against all odds, feels her heart skip a beat. “Alright, then. Pick you up at six?”

So, after Free Practice the next day, Dilara gets ready for her first date in months. Lexie is beside herself with relief, even though she tries to hide it by pretending to stalk Jaden on Instagram.

“I’m your friend, it’s my responsibility to make sure he isn’t some kind of creep,” she informs Dilara knowingly, looking up at her outfit critically. “D’you want to borrow my blue top with the flowers? It’d make your boobs look good.”

Dilara laughs, surprisingly excited. “Sure, why not? I have good boobs, right?”

“Absolutely.” Lexie hurries to her suitcase to retrieve the blouse, a really nice top that she enthusiastically pairs with high-waisted jeans.

One fallout of this unceremonious break-up was Lexie’s disappointment in the band. While Dilara’s had been mostly centred around heartbreak and humiliation, hers was closer to rage and genuine betrayal, partly as her friend and trainer, and partly as a fan. During the handful of times that either of them had even mentioned the band in the last few months, she’d been so savage in the way she spoke about them that even Dilara found herself wanting to defend them, feeling strangely guilty that she’d lost an artist she loved so much.

When Dilara’s finally ready, she heads down to the lobby of the hotel. As usual, the entire hotel is booked out for the F1 attendees, drivers, trainers and all other staff included. She wonders for the first time where BTS is staying, when she spots Jaden near the glass doors. He compliments how she looks in a very gentlemanly fashion, pressing a light kiss to her cheek, before leading her to his motorcycle parked outside.

“Wow,” she comments, taking the helmet he hands her. “Sexy bike.”

He grins, faded leather jacket making him look genuinely handsome. “Thanks. I watch a lot of MotoGP, too,” he confesses.

Dilara nods, warming up to him a bit more. “Me, too. I mean, If people think F1 is dangerous…” She shakes her head and lets out a low whistle. “MotoGP is a class apart. They can literally die at any moment.”

“On that encouraging note,” he says, climbing onto the bike, “hop on.”

They ride around fifteen minutes away from the hotel, a nice and cool wind blowing as they do. The more they ride, the better she starts to feel about her decision to say yes. Jaden ends up taking her to a pub quite literally in the middle of nowhere; it’s nice, though - quaint - and even though she’s dressed fairly conservatively (a jacket, jeans and boots), the crowd seems to be young enough to not care even if she wasn’t. There’s most motorcycles parked outside, along with one hatchback and a large black SUV.

They get a table near an old fashioned jukebox and right across from a dartboard; the first thing she does is pick up a lone dart and aim it at the board, smirking when it hits the bull’s eye.

“Athlete reflexes,” notes Jaden, coming up behind her. His chest brushes her back and she feels an old, familiar sensation of butterflies in her stomach. The fact that she can still feel it takes her off guard, a sign that moving on might just be possible. She leans back very slightly, turning up to look at him when he places his hands on her shoulders.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks. “Might help me to lower your reflexes a bit.”

Dilara laughs. “Okay, but just a beer. I still have to race tomorrow.”

It’s objectively a reasonably fun date. As it turns out, breaking the ice through her drunken escapades during the fashion show actually does help, because they seem to have made it past the awkward touches phase, automatically comfortable making physical contact. Casual nudges and playful pulling of the arms doesn’t feel strange at all, not even when she’s aiming a dart and he comes up behind her, gently pulling her back into his chest, hands light on her waist.

They kiss during the only English song that plays during the date; out of nowhere, Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen starts playing and they sing along to it, fortunately in a corner of the pub so no one quite pays any attention to them. During the guitar riff, there’s a moment of meaningful eye contact and, without making a big deal of it, Jaden leans forward and softly kisses her on the lips. She kisses him back but given that they’re in a public place in a fairly conservative country, they stop before it gets too heated.

She expects to feel something; some nostalgia at a fun first date on a race weekend, or a hollowness at saying goodbye to a quick, rushed chapter in her life. But the kiss is too quick and she’s been consciously blocking out the events of March for months now. By the time she even registers that his lips are his, Jaden’s, and not the ones she’d dared to consider might be the last ones she’d ever kiss, the song changes and the moment is over.

They don’t have tons to talk about, if she’s being honest. It’s fun anecdotes and jokes here and there, but she can already tell that there’s nothing long term here. Still, it’s nice to have a night of fun with a nice guy - and he is a nice guy. It’s only towards the end of the date when he excuses himself to use the men’s room, kissing her on the cheek, that she finally has a moment to herself. Running her fingers through her hair, she looks around at the other patrons, a calm crowd mostly keeping to themselves.

She half-expects to see someone she knows; people like Lewis Hamilton, Daniel Ricciardo or Charles Leclerc sometimes tend to head out on a race weekend to loosen up, especially if it’s a country they don’t visit very often. She tries half-heartedly to identify faces, until she does a double-take and, for the first time in six months, she makes eye contact with V of BTS.

Dilara’s heart stops. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it, which makes her think he’d already seen her. He’s in a black hoodie with the hood up, presumably to blend in, but there isn’t a single doubt in her mind that it’s him, especially not with the way he’s staring back. His long blond hair peeks out, framing his face, brushing his cheekbones and leaving his forehead partly exposed.

Weren’t you dating one of them? The tall one, with the blond hair? Max’s confusion had been understandable, given how she’d swept out of the hall the moment she’d had the opportunity, hoping with all her might that she wouldn’t have a panic attack here, in public - and because of him. It had felt like an ambush, how casually he’d waltzed back into her company event, her domain and her life, with his members flanking him in suits and more confidence than she felt they had any right to.

Christian had tried to force conversation, naturally: keeping brand ambassadors happy meant that money would keep flowing in. Money meant a good car and a real chance at the championship. Dilara knew it, of course, but at the moment it had meant nothing to her. She’d done her best to ignore their existence entirely, hoping to savour some savage satisfaction but instead feeling only cornered and humiliated, to the point where she’d considered faking a headache to leave early.

It was all talk, though. She was a racer; even at her worst, she wouldn’t hide. She couldn’t. It would be too hard to look at herself in the mirror. But there was nothing to say she had to bear it with a smile, which was when she’d enlisted Max to have her back, something he’d done loyally all night. Even seeing the members here and there during the party hadn’t been so bad while her vision swam… until she spotted him.

V of BTS was blond now - that much she had gleaned from Max. Her greatest achievement of the night, though, through all the ignoring and drinking, had been her ability to avoid him. She had managed even, during Christian’s small talk, to position herself such that he was somewhere behind her. On stage, he’d been standing at the back, and during the party she hadn’t caught a glimpse of him until the very end.

She’d reached the stage of the night where she’d started stumbling. Max had left her side for a few minutes to greet a sponsor’s kid somewhere, and Dilara had ventured to the bar alone and ordered a whiskey on the rocks, her least favourite drink. The bartender had nodded and started shuffling behind the bar, when she’d felt a brush behind her and an old, familiar, heartbreaking scent wafting over.

Her body’s immediate reaction had been to give up; she had to grip the bar to keep from crumpling to the ground while her mind struggled to take in every ounce of it, every bit of the lotion and spicy cologne that she’d tried her best to repress over the last three months. Using nothing but her peripheral vision, she’d done everything in her power to not turn her head and keep it trained in the direction of the bartender. The new entrant had come up from behind her to stop at the bar to her left, approximately five feet between them.

The first thing Dilara had noticed was the blond hair. There was a dark grey pinstripe suit, well-fitted, and a flash of red; her guess, a tie. He’d placed one hand on the bar and a familiar ring glinted on his index finger. Her chest had felt like it would literally close up and the moment she’d noticed his shoulders tilting towards her, the bartender had placed her drink on the bar and she’d let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Without a second thought, she’d picked up her drink, turned around and left.

She’d allowed herself a few moments of weakness since then, wondering if he’d been about to say something to her. After everything, she couldn’t fathom for the life of her what he would want to say to her, or why he would even want to acknowledge anything between them. Even now, the entire pub could burn down and she doesn’t think he would have the inclination to say anything to her - or the nerve.

She feels an old, familiar irritation at how difficult his face is to read; there’s a hint of a frown on his forehead and his eyes are heavily lidded, his face tilted up slightly since he’s sitting at a booth and she’s on a bar stool. It’s then that she realises he’s not alone. She can vaguely make out Jimin next to him, but it’s too hard to tear her eyes away from V. She expects something to happen - tears or something. But the shock is too much, especially at how they’ve somehow managed to find each other in a crowded pub in a South Korean town.

She still can’t place his expression; a shadow suddenly passes over his face and his eyes flicker. A moment later, she feels an arm go around her waist and Jaden kissing her cheek, making her jump.

“Shit, did I scare you?” he asks, chuckling as he takes the seat opposite her. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine.” Dilara’s gaze meets V’s momentarily, and she wonders if he’s seen them this whole time, if he’s seen Jaden kiss her, if he’s seen her laugh with him… she looks away before she can go down this rabbit hole.

“Hey.” Jaden’s voice breaks through. He waves a dimsum in front of her. “Aren’t you hungry?”

She shakes her head, glad for the distraction. “No, I…” She exhales and forces a smile onto her face. “It’s a race weekend. I have to make sure I don’t fuck it up.”

They leave soon after that. On the way out the door, she catches a glimpse of the same blond hair and diligently looks away, suddenly eager to just get back to the hotel and sleep. Despite a two hour date, neither she nor Jaden actually had much to drink; she, because of the race weekend, and Jaden she’s sure just wanted to keep her company.

When she reaches the hotel, Lexie’s in their shared room, eagerly awaiting details. Dilara tells her what she wants to hear: she had fun, he was hot, they made out in the parking lot (she leaves out the fact that she heard the door to the SUV slam shut and the car zoom away while they were), but she doesn’t see it going anywhere.

“Oh, well.” Lexie shrugs, flipping over onto her front on her bed. “At least you tried. And you had fun, so it wasn’t a total waste.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Dilara thinks about what she really wants to tell her closest friend, deciding that she needs a second opinion. She’s folding her jeans and tries to sound as nonchalant as possible. “By the way,” she begins, anticipating Lexie’s reaction, “guess who I saw at the pub?”

“Valtteri drowning his sorrows?” she guesses, referring to how the Alfa Romeo driver crashed his car out during Free Practice earlier today.

“Uh, no. I saw… well, I saw V.” Dilara looks up at her, trying to ignore how strange it feels to be saying his stage name.

Lexie’s eyebrows shoot up. “V… as in, V? As in Kim T-”

“Yes,” she cuts her off, swallowing. “Can you believe it? I mean, what are the chances?”

“Damn. Did he say anything?”

“No, we just spotted each other and looked away.” Dilara shrugs, realising in hindsight that while it felt like a huge moment, it wasn’t really one of any significance. “I guess I should’ve expected it. It doesn’t look like there are too many places around here for people to hang out.”

“Hm.” Lexie considers this. “Did he see you guys making out?”

Dilara stares, marvelling briefly at her ability to get to the point. “I - probably. I don’t know.”

“Good. I hope he did.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not like he gives a fuck. D’you think I should hit the gym in the morning?” she asks, successfully changing the subject. Honestly, Dilara is quite certain that she doesn’t want to get into the mess of jealousy - not because she doesn’t care, but because if she were to go by recent events, he doesn’t care.

Lexie doesn’t seem fooled but she lets it go, going into trainer mode for their schedule tomorrow. The next day, Freddie Richter enters Dilara’s changing room while Lexie helps her stretch before the Qualifying round.

“Um, why did a mechanic from Max’s pit crew just ask me how you’re doing?” Tall, blond and German - and uninvited - he takes a seat on the couch. “And not like a supportive team member, but like he knows you?”

Dilara doesn’t answer, but Lexie takes over for her. “She went on a date with him,” she supplies. “Wait, we’re talking about the dark-haired, part-Korean guy, right?”

Fred nods. “Wow. What is it with you and Korean dudes?”

“She has a type.”

“It’s not a type until I date Chris,” disagrees Dilara, voice muffled against the mat. “And that’s never going to happen, so…”

Lexie and Fred snicker, and the latter whistles in a low voice. “Speaking of Korean dudes…” When she looks up questioningly, he cocks his head towards the ajar door. “Seven pretty famous ones just pulled up.”

“Fantastic,” she mutters, straightening up. “You guys will stay with me, right? I can’t get distracted before today’s session.”

They promise, and Dilara successfully avoids the group all afternoon. There’s a slightly sticky moment where Jaden comes up to talk to her while she’s next to her car, under the pretext of showing her how they’ve altered her car’s suspension slightly so that she gets maximum downforce, and when they straighten up, he asks her how she’s doing. She smiles a bit, of course, until she glances behind his shoulder to see V turning around and walking away. Despite her best efforts, she loses track of what Jaden is saying, wondering despite herself if he was really coming over here.

Qualifying is a blast. Given that it’s only an hour-long session on the whole and each driver doesn’t end up doing more than five or six laps, the fact that it decides the starting order for the race makes this session almost as important as the race itself. Twenty cars, going their absolute fastest - and Dilara is no exception.

Despite whatever’s going on in her personal life, she drives the lap of her life and secures the first pole position of her career, beating McLaren’s Lando Norris by two-tenths and her own teammate Max by five-tenths of a second. The elation in her in starting first tomorrow is unprecedented, beaten only by her first race win in Austin last year.

Karun Chandok, one of the regular journalists on the paddock, takes her interview after, congratulating her on being the first female driver and the first Asian-origin driver to be a race winner and pole sitter in the history of Formula 1. After a personal congratulations on being a South Asian driver to make a mark on the sport, he finally bids her goodbye and she skips back to the garage.

Lexie is the first person to come up and hug her, followed by Christian, Chris and Fred. She’s not the first Red Bull pole sitter by any means, but it makes her feel warm that they’re still so happy for her. After Fred squeezes her hard enough to crack a rib and sets her on the ground, she catches Jungkook’s eye from over his shoulder. He’s smiling and clapping, eyes crinkling, and her own smile freezes on her face. She wants to look away but she’s suddenly aware of the same warm feeling creeping through her chest… like seeing another friend happy for her.

Dilara holds his gaze for a moment and he seems surprised as well. The moment Jungkook realises she’s not looking away immediately, he stops clapping and lowers his hands, his smile transforming from the formal, chocolate boy camera smile to his real, genuine toothy one. He gives her a small wink and instantly, she feels tears prickling at the back of her eyes at the friend who followed her career even more than her boyfriend did, and who consequently hurt her almost as much as he did. She can feel her smile fading and before she can alert anyone to the fact that something’s wrong, she looks away, wiping her eyes and hoping it’ll look like happy tears.

The next day, everyone wakes up to weather reports of impending rain. It isn’t raining yet, but the sun isn’t out either, making everyone on the team slightly jittery as strategies are discussed on how best to deal with rain, should it come. In circuits like these, driving on dry tracks is hard enough without adding water to the mix. It makes for exciting viewing and racing, but it also means far greater potential for accidents and unexpected results.

Dilara tries not to think about it too much. She puts on her earphones the moment she’s on the paddock and in her race suit, focusing solely on warming up and getting in the zone, wanting more than anything for this pole position to convert into a win. The pressure is enormous, she discovers, when you’re in prime position to zoom ahead and build a steady lead. When all the drivers strap into their cars on the grid, she spots more than one driver glancing up at the sky surreptitiously.

Dilara doesn’t have a good start, though. As the pole sitter, the lead is already hers - or it should be. But Lando in P2 releases his clutch better and in the clean air, overtakes her straight away on Turn 1. It’s humiliating, especially when Max from behind him manages to get ahead of her as well, dropping her down to P3. With the sudden change in track position, she finds herself amidst a flurry of cars and the minute everyone goes into Turn 4, she feels a jolt when a car grazes hers on the front and she spins out onto the grass.

“Fuck!” she exclaims into the radio, trying to reverse and get back onto the track. Next to her, also on the grass, she sees a Ferrari and an AlphaTauri as well, the latter of which has stopped its engine. Without any further ado, with her race engineer Jonathan rattling off track positions into her earphones, she gets back on the track and into the pits for a new front wing, discovering with a sinking heart when she’s back on the track that she’s down to P14, all because Aston Martin’s Lance Stroll decided to pull out his dick and attempt some kind of overtake on another car.

Dilara is now stuck behind Sebastian Vettel who, as the youngest world champion in F1 history, is notoriously hard to overtake. At the same time, she has potential future world champion Charles Leclerc on her arse, his gleaming red Ferrari appearing menacingly in her rearview mirror. This goes on for nearly twenty laps, the first five of which are behind a safety car; she’s sandwiched between two prodigies of the sport, just about managing not to lose track position any further but also unable to move ahead.

Fortunately for her, through another series of events including a safety car and a puncture ahead, she’s able to pit for fresh tyres again, arriving in P11, now one position away from at least getting points. In the next twenty or so laps, she steadily overtakes Esteban Ocon, Nick Latifi and Lance fucking Stroll to make it up to P8. Jonathan is still being encouraging on the radio, informing her that Max is in the lead at the moment.

Of course he is. Max is her friend, but in the car and on track, that means nothing. He’s Max Verstappen, and him maintaining the lead is neither surprising nor well-received. In Formula 1 at least, there’s nothing worse than your teammate doing well when you aren’t.

She tries not to resent it too much; more than her own abysmal race, she’s also sure that should any adverse circumstances occur, she will be sacrificed to get Max his win. It’s an occupational hazard of being Max Verstappen’s teammate, one that led Daniel Ricciardo to quit, and Pierre Gasly and Alex Albon to be demoted for not being able to keep up with him. She has no doubts about the fact that if needed, Red Bull will be happy to replace her with either of the junior drivers next year - especially since her contract for next year still hasn’t been renewed.

In a bizarre turn of events, with seven laps to go, she feels droplets. As if on cue, she hears Jonathan’s voice crackle on the radio. “We’re getting reports of rain in Turn 5 and Turn 7. Do you want to pit for inters? I repeat: pit for inters.”

“I -” Dilara swallows. It’s a gamble at this point, not knowing how hard the rain’s going to come down. Either she pits now and loses track position or she stays out and risks skidding on a wet track, possibly crashing. I need points. Her heart starts racing. “Where will I come out if I pit?” she asks.

“P15,” comes the reply. “But we think others will come in to pit as well so you can make up track position. The rain will get stronger.”

In a sport where everything is determined by fractions of a second, she doesn’t have the luxury of weighing the pros and cons. If she’s the one of the first people to pit, she can get back her lead. If she’s one of the only people to pit… well, Pierre and Alex are doing just fine.

She makes the decision in a split second. “Alright, I’m coming in.”

As Jonathan predicted, nearly every car in front of her comes in to pit for inters as well, the ideal tyres for a wet track. The only ones that don’t are Lando, who predictably skids and falls out of the points, and Lance Stroll. Even Max comes in too late, by which time she’s already in a podium position, in the top three. In an epic twist, the Korean Grand Prix is won by Sebastian Vettel, Daniel Ricciardo in P2 and Dilara in P3.

When she jumps out of the car and takes off her helmet and balaclava, only to immediately get drenched in the rain, she can’t even bring herself to care. The entire Red Bull team is standing at the barriers, waiting to cheer for not only her, but other two as well. Photographers are going crazy clicking all three podium sitters, but Dilara is too winded to care.

Even hours later, when she’s on her way to Christian’s office for a late meeting, she’s still dizzy with happiness. From pole position, to being out of the points, to snagging a podium in a wet race is classic, iconic even. She hurries up to his office, waving at staff leaving the paddock under umbrellas as she takes the stairs two at a time. The rain has slowed down but hasn’t stopped; after a rainy podium celebration combined with sticky champagne all over the podium sitters, she hurried to her changing room to shower quickly before heading to Christian’s.

She’s hoping it’s him telling her that she’s signed for next year; it’s the only thing she can think he’d want to tell her that he wouldn’t need Max for. Lexie has been invited, too, which can only mean it has something to do with her driving or her training. Hair wet from her shower and getting wetter from the rain, she jogs up the wet stairs, careful not to slip.

“... probably taking pictures or something…” She hears Christian’s muffled voice from his office. “... with Driver of the Day…”

“I’m coming!” Dilara calls, and a bunch of voices laugh. She can make out Lexie’s husky one and realises she’s the last one to arrive.

“Careful, don’t injure yourself!” Christian’s trademark voice is unmistakable.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” She yells as she hurries down the wet corridor. “Got caught in the rain and - whoa!” She almost slips in the doorway of the office and catches the doorknob just in time. The laughter gets even louder and Dilara can’t help but laugh as well, sweeping her wet hair out of her eyes and off her face.

“There she is!” Christian exclaims, smiling proudly with his arms outstretched. There’s a smattering of applause in the room and she’s immediately engulfed in a rare fatherly hug from her team principal. “Pole and a podium! You deserved being voted Driver of the Day, darling,” he says, kissing her on the cheek.

“Aw, thanks, Christian,” she says, her cheeks hurting with how much she’s smiling. “Wouldn’t have been possible without the team and the pit -” She breaks off, finally noticing the others in the room. Apart from a few Red Bull staff members milling about, and Lexie, one side of the long table has none other than all seven members of BTS seated at it.

Dilara can feel her smile fade slightly and she looks away before it can become too obvious. She turns immediately to Lexie, widening her eyes at her friend in a what the fuck way, but all Lexie does is give her a small shrug and an apologetic shake of the head, meaning she has no idea what this is about either. Dilara moves towards the empty seat next to her, directly across from the band, certain that even BTS can’t dampen her mood today.

“Alright, now I know you’ve probably had enough champagne to last the rest of the night,” says Christian, waving a bottle of Moet in his hand, “but I think we all deserve one more drink before we’re done with this weekend.” Before Dilara can respond, champagne flutes are filled halfway and being passed around.

Christian raises his own glass and beams at her. “I know you didn’t have a great beginning to the season. March and April were…” he trails off, shaking his head sympathetically, while her cheeks burn because she’s sure it’s sinking in for the seven men across the table as to why those months might have been bad for her. “In any case, you recovered like a champ. Monaco was splendid, Silverstone was… well, you remember what Silverstone was like,” he grins, and she can’t help but smile at the memory. “And this weekend, you proved how right we were to sign you. To the driver of the day… Dilara.”

“Dilara,” everyone choruses. Dilara’s cheeks are burning with pleasure but for some reason, when everyone raises their glasses, she glances over at the band. All of them are looking at her with various kinds of formal smiles, but her gaze seems to gravitate towards V. He’s smiling at her with what looks like pride; the sight almost makes her want to throw up and she begins to wonder in disgust just how much he’s getting paid to sit here and put on such a show.

“Thank you,” she mutters in their direction, noticing how Christian frowns when she looks away from them. Everyone drinks and she downs hers instantly; a few people chuckle and she realises that she and Jimin have finished before everyone else. She almost - almost - slips and gives him a small smile, when she remembers the last time she’d had champagne with the band: the night of her first race win in Austin last November - the night she and V had got together.

Her heart lurches and she looks away again, wanting Christian to just get on with it so she can leave.

He has no such intentions, though. “So, are you two taking the red eye back to London tonight?” Christian asks her and Lexie. “D’you want a ride to the airport?”

“Oh, no, we’re actually not going back tonight,” she answers. “Our friend Chris is from Seoul originally so we’re driving down to his place after this for a few days.”

“Oh, it’s a really cool city,” chimes in Vicki, acknowledging the seven Seoul residents that Dilara, until this very moment, had not remembered would be there. “You’ve never been?”

She shakes her head. “First time in South Korea.”

“Great,” says Christian jovially, voice still dry as ever, “now you have the most famous band in South Korea to show you around, too.”

Dilara gives a half-hearted chuckle, hoping to all ends that he won’t say anything that will force her to hang out with BTS in Seoul. Fortunately, he doesn’t, and when she sneaks a look at the band, she spots Jungkook with wide, almost hurt eyes and V biting his lip and looking down. A memory surfaces without warning, of a boyfriend promising to show her Seoul at night, the beach at Incheon, his family’s farm in Daegu, a weekend away on Jeju Island…

Her eyes meet V’s for a moment and she imagines he’s remembering the same thing, but she looks away before she can read too much into his expression. There’s no point hashing out the past, especially when it changes nothing. She looks up at Christian again and exhales, hoping he finally gets on with it.

“Alright,” he begins, clapping his hands in a businesslike fashion, “so you’re probably wondering what this is about. Don’t worry, Max was already briefed about this before he left, but since you two will be involved marginally more than him, I thought this was the best way to let you know.”

Dilara frowns in confusion. It can’t be the contract extension he’s talking about, because why would Max need to be briefed about that? Moreover, why would Lexie need to be briefed about this? And why in heaven’s name is Bangtan fucking Sonyeondan here for it?

“As you know, Red Bull has put in a lot of money into marketing this year,” he continues, apparently not noticing her internal struggle. “With you and Max as a legendary pairing in the team’s history, along with world-famous brand ambassadors,” he nods at BTS, but Dilara doesn’t move her gaze from him, “they’ve got a two month-long PR stint planned that will start right after summer break, with Belgium and end with…” He looks around at Vicki.

“Japan,” she supplies.

Japan… so, Suzuka. Dilara’s still processing why the name of the circuit makes her stomach roll, when she remembers that she hasn’t the faintest idea what Christian is talking about. “Wait, um… so what’s the - the PR plan?”

“The drivers and the band,” he answers simply, as though the answer should be obvious. “You and Max, along with BTS, for a bunch of PR things - junkets, photoshoots, adverts, some of those Instagram whatchamacallits -”

“ - lives -”

“- and - yes - and anything else that they might need, all to launch over the next few months.” He claps his hands again and gestures warmly towards BTS. “Two months of content, rolled out over the next quarter. This is the best time slot we could get, before the gentlemen here need to start preparing for their tour and you -” He points to her “- will need to get rid of all distractions before the final races of the season.”

Dilara can’t help but wonder why distractions can’t simply be eliminated altogether in that case, but Christian leaves her no room to respond, plowing on with vigour.

“As a result, Red Bull has offered to make it an all expenses paid experience - hotels, food, travel - the whole shebang. Oh, and of course, Lexie is also included,” he adds generously. “Can’t have your training interrupted during this or who knows what -”

“Um, hang on,” she says suddenly, cringing when she realises she’s interrupted Christian. “Sorry, but is…” She wants to frame it in a way that doesn’t let on that she has any inside knowledge at all. “Big Hit is okay with this?”

“Big Hit -” Dilara almost chokes when she hears RM respond, and grudgingly turns to look at him. “Big Hit and Red Bull came up with this together. They think it’ll be really good exposure for both sets of fans.”

The irrefutable nature of this logic makes her want to hurl. RM had himself told her, months ago when they were at the Austin GP for publicity, that just being spotted and photographed in an F1 paddock alone had led to an unanticipated rise in their sales and numbers. Moreover, it had introduced a whole new demographic of listeners for BTS: F1 fans, which included an overwhelming percentage of men who were pleasantly surprised with BTS’s music and the fact that it wasn’t as boyband-y as they thought.

Dilara tears her eyes away from him and looks at Christian again, dreading his answer to her next question. “What did you say about… all expenses paid?”

He grins, as though relieved she’s getting to the good stuff. “Yes, they mean all expenses paid. Hotels, obviously - oh, and I think there’s a beach house in one location, too -” He looks over at Vicki for confirmation, who nods. “Obviously, you’ll still have to live in a motorhome for part of the Europe leg, like the other drivers,” he adds apologetically, “but since BTS will be living out of rented accommodations, I insisted on a home gym in each place and full access for you in every one of them.” He gestures magnanimously to Lexie. “With Lexie there as well, there should be no interruption to your training.”

There’s something odd in the way Christian is phrasing his words, almost like he’s customised this arrangement for - and only - here. “What about Max?” she asks after a moment.

“Well, he’ll be there off and again,” he answers nonchalantly, “but he’s a contender for the world championship. We can’t let him get distracted. It’s in his contract.”

Of course. Red Bull’s golden boy gets to focus on his career while Dilara is left to pick up what’s left of her own and also carry out a majority of their rubbish marketing plan all on her own. She tries not to seethe too openly, and takes a deep breath. “So, me and Lexie… maybe Max and Dean…” she says slowly, “... and - and BTS?”

“That’s right. Alright, now Vicki’s going to talk logistics - although I suppose we can always email that to you. Vick, d’you think we should get Big Hit on a conference call…”

Dilara’s blood runs cold. She feels like she’s frozen to her seat, silently amazed at how the universe has managed to find the one thing that could, in fact, successfully ruin her mood after one of the best races of her life. She can’t even fight this; with all the times Christian has made sure to mention that Red Bull is pouring shit tons of money into this project, it’s fairly clear that if she has any hope of getting signed next year, she can’t mess with their precious marketing plan.

Two months of hanging around her estranged ex-boyfriend and his loyal friends, working with them… to get signed next year. It’s Red Bull, the reasonable, ambitious part of her says weakly. It’s a Red Bull seat… if you have any hope of fighting for a championship, ever… this is it.

It takes her a few moments of sitting in silence among chattering voices to realise she’s already resigned herself to this. Her chest feels like it’s closing up again, the unfairness and injustice of it all creeping up her throat. But she refuses to let anyone, especially her newest colleagues, see how much it’s affecting her; the only thing worse she can think of than being dumped is showing her ex she still cares.

She looks up at Vicki. “Um… can I be excused for a moment?” she asks, somewhat relieved at how calm she sounds.

Vicki nods and Dilara stands up from her chair; without looking at anyone, she walks out of the office at a steady pace until the door closes behind her and she’s standing at the railing, the rain slowing down outside. Without thinking about it, she slips out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her hoodie and places one between her lips, flicking the lighter on and taking a long, desperate drag.

She hears footsteps behind her and a “Don’t!” that she recognises as Lexie’s voice. She turns to see her trainer hurrying towards her with a determined look on her face. Behind her, V stands just outside the door, eyes wide and expression sombre. Just when their eyes meet, Dilara feels herself getting shoved.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Lexie whispers furiously, forcing her into the room next door and snatching the cigarette from her hand, putting it out against the wall and chucking it in a dustbin. “What if someone sees? What if you get photographed?”

She’s right, of course. It’s reckless and stupid to smoke in an F1 paddock and Dilara is so angry with herself that finally, after months of trying to be strong, she starts to cry.

“Oh, fuck.” Lexie sighs and hugs her immediately, holding her tight. “Fuck, I know it sucks, D.”

“It’s not fair!” Dilara exclaims, pulling away. “After everything - I have to see him again? I have to - what? Work with him? Pretend we’re friends? Act like he didn’t -” Here, her voice breaks.

“I don’t understand it,” says Lexie quietly, shaking her head. She looks almost as troubled; her dark eyes are unfocused and she’s biting her lip, as though wondering where she went wrong. “Maybe they’re trying to make the European leg of the calendar and their European PR coincide? I don’t know...”

“I can’t believe this,” whispers Dilara shakily, furiously wiping at the tears escaping. “How could they say yes? How could -” There’s too many questions that can’t be answered so she kicks the dustbin with as much force as she can, watching it get thrown against the wall and its contents spill out on the floor. After staring at it for a moment, she sighs and gets on her knees, picking them up.

Lexie joins her. “We won’t talk to them. We won’t do anything with them - not unless we have to,” she says in a low voice, encouragingly. “You’ll have me and Max - and both of us have your back when it comes to this. Alright?”

Dilara nods, feeling wretched, but knowing she has to do this for her career. “Yeah,” she mutters, her voice hoarse, standing up. “Come on, let’s go back inside. It’s not like this can get any worse.”

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

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stefanmikaleson1864 · 3 years

Text

Hope and Love

Can you write an eddie / reader story where the reader is pregnant and in the end the doctors tell her her life is in danger that she has to take the baby away? She and Eddie fight about it. She wants to keep him, and he doesn't want her to die. In short, around her 8th month, she goes to see the 118 team to have dinner with them, they are called on a mission so she remains alone in the barracks until they come back. When the team returns they find traces of blood and the reader on the ground unconscious ... Chim and Hen take her to the hospital ... There the baby (it's a boy) must be taken out urgently and the doctors tell eddie that the reader is in a coma ... she stays asleep for 2 weeks and when Buck (who is her brother) comes to see her she makes a stop! He calls Eddie to come asap. They wait together and when the doctors arrive they announce that she is awake! She finally meets her baby and Eddie proposes to her.

I'd love to read a story like this too muchI'd love to read a story like this too much 😊

@fairyhope028

“I’m sorry I wish I had better news for you Miss (Your last Name). But this is where we are and the two choices you have are to either accept the risk and continue with the pregnancy or terminate.” the doctor said

When he said those words to you it felt like knives being stabbed in your heart and your whole stomach just felt so sick. In your mind there wasn’t another option you were going to keep this baby. You had to at least try.

“Thank you doctor well talk about it.” Your boyfriend Eddie said

The doctor got up and left the room and Eddie turned to you and grabbed your hand and looked at you in the eyes with such a sad broken look.

You know this was hard on him to because he was so happy when you told him you were pregnant he was such a good dad. And he was hurting just like you.

“Look Y/N when it comes down to it I need you here with me and Chris he needs you were a family we can try again.” eddie said

“This isn’t a discussion Eddie. This is our child and I have to at least try. I can’t do what your asking me to do.” you said with tears in your eyes.

“What about me don’t I get a say Y/N come on just take some time a think even if the baby is okay I don’t want them to grow up without a mom like Chris just think about that.” Eddie said pleading with you.

“ I love you Eddie so much and you know how much I want this and even If I do die I know they're going to have a big and happy family to grow up with like Chris they would be okay but my body is my decision.” you said

“Fine” Eddie said you could tell he was mad because that's all he said

You two left the doctors office feeling defeated that day. It was supposed to be a happy day not such a sad one

Eight Months Later..

Everything was going as best they could. We found out we were having a little boy. Eddie invited me to come to dinner at the 118 that day. I think because I was so close to my due date that he was worried about me.

So instead of causing him more anxiety I went and brought some food along with me.

The moment Eddie saw my car pulling in he ran down and opened up the car and helped me get out

“Mi amor are you okay you should have called an uber are you okay.” he asked rubbing his hand all over your belly and back.

He took your hand and walked you in the firehouse and sat you down at the kitchen table. Everyone walked over to you and greeted you and asked a million questions if you were okay.

“I’m fine everyone no pain or nothing i’m doing good I appreciate the concern I really do.” you said

Buck was worse though I mean he basically had a whole emergency room on stand by and you know he was worried with you being his sister but between him and Eddie it sometimes stressed you more.

You tried to understand be grateful for the help but it was sometimes overwhelming for you.

Bobby brought over dinner and yelled at everyone to stop hovering over you and let you breathe. Which you are grateful for. Just as dinner ended the bell rang and everyone had to go.

Buck and Eddie looked over at you with sad and worried eyes.

“Are you gonna be okay here by yourself sitting here alone.” Buck said

“I’m fine and it’s not like anyone has a choice so you both go and be careful. “ you said

They knew you were right and left to go be heroes.

A little bit went by and next thing you know you felt this pain in your stomach that you never felt before. It scared the hell out of you.

You got up and saw some blood coming from your legs and you tried to get up to the walk to the bathroom but you felt your legs give out and everything went black.

Eddie and Buck were basically jumping out of there skin when they pulled up to the firehouse.

They didn’t even let the trucks come to a stop before they ran out and went upstairs to find you.

There worst fear came true when they saw you laying on the floor with blood around you.

“Omg what the hell Y/N” eddie yelled

Buck ran over to you and tried to shake you but nothing.

They picked you up and gently carried you and Hen and Chim ran over and saw what was going on.

They pulled the stretcher out and began to asses you. Bobby had to pull the both of them off you to let them do their job.

“It looks like it might be her uterus repurting but were not sure were taking her to st marks there best equit to handle her.” Hen said

Eddie hopped in the back with Chim and Bobby and Buck got into the captain's car and followed behind you.

“It’s going to be okay, you and our son are both going to be okay. You hear me stay strong mi amor.” Eddie said, holding your hand the whole way there.

Doctors and nurses were waiting for you and pulled you into the room. Eddie had to stay behind and chim and hen sat with him with Buck and Bobby came in a few minutes later.

“What’s the news anything” Buck said

“No Nothing were all waiting.” Chim said

Time felt like it was going by so slow and the fear and anxiety just took over. The waiting room was so silent and Eddie tried keeping it together even though he was dying inside.

Then the doctor came out and Eddie and Buck both jumped out of their seats so fast.

“Her placenta ruptured and she lost a lot of blood and we did have to preform a crash c-section. The baby is fine and he’s in the NICU for pre cautions. Unfortunately Y/N had to be put into a medically induced coma to let her body heal.” the doctor said

Eddie felt his heart plummet into his stomach. In one way he was so happy his son was here and he was okay but then on the other hand he was so worried about you.

“Can I see my son.” eddie asked

“Of course one of the nurses will take you up.” the doctor said.

Buck and the rest of the 118 went to see you. And sat by you.

Eddie went down to the NICU and was able to hold your son.

“Hello I’m so happy your here I love you and I can’t believe your here. And I know your mom can’t wait to see you either.” he said to his son.

Two Weeks had passed and Eddie was at the hospital every day with your son and Chris. When he wasn’t there Buck was there or someone from the 118 was there.

Finally one day your came and the doctors were able to wake you up.

Buck was sitting by your side that day. Holding your hand and talking to you. When suddenly the tube you had helping you breathe started to resit.

Which was a good thing. The doctors told Buck that you looked like you were finally waking up and He called Eddie to hurry up down with Chris and The baby

Your head felt heavy and your eyes slowly opened up. With Eddie, Chris and your son by your side.

Your first thought was your baby.

“My baby is he okay.” you asked looking over at Eddie. Who was crying happy tears.

“Yeah Mi Amor he’s okay he’s right here.” he said putting the baby in your arms.

You started crying and it was a feeling you never felt before holding your child you were so happy.

“He needs a name, we waited for you.” Eddie said

“ How about Lucas.” Chris yelled out

And you and Eddie both laughed and thought it was a good name.

“Yeah I like it.” you said and Eddie agreed.

Buck had called the rest of the 118 and they all gathered by your bedside happy to see you.

Eddie said he had an Important question to ask while everyone was here and you and everyone else was so confused.

“Y/N I Love you so much and these past two weeks and even eight months had only made me realize that through every hard moment and every good moment I want you by my side so please do my the honor of marrying me.” Eddie said pulling out a ring

“Yes of course I love you.” you said and Eddie leaned down to kiss you.

The rest of the 118 Cheered. And congratulated you guys. But Buck Pulled Eddie aside

“You hurt my sister and I will end you.” Buck said

“Don’t worry I won’t.” eddie said

A while later everyone headed out and Eddie sat next to you Chris and the Baby both sleeping in the room.

“ I love you so much I love our family thanks for saying no 9 months ago.” Eddie said

“I Love you so much I’ll do anything for my family.” you said.

#Eddie Diaz #eddie diaz x reader #Eddie Diaz One Shot #eddie diaz imagine #911 x reader #911 oneshot #911 imagine #911 on fox #911 fox #bobby nash #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #hen wilson #howie chimney han

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

fuckboy - chapter ii

The one where Chris only wanted to fuck you and you were alright with that.

Chris never promised anything more than what he had to offer: a release - and a good one at that. Recently widowed and new to Hollywood, you're eager to learn how to live the single life with the help of such a talented teacher. What happens when Chris is the one to start expecting more from the relationship than you are prepared to offer?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

As the lights flashed all around me, I found myself once again realizing just how hard this being-famous thing truly was. I could barely see anything but the inch of red carpet immediately in front of me, and still I was expected to smile at the cameras like I had no concerns on my mind.

I looked around me to see if anyone else was as uncomfortable as I was, but only found beautiful women and handsome men posing like it was no big deal, like they’d been doing this for all their lives.

In some cases, I suppose it was the truth. Maybe I’d come to look like that with time.

Some abrupt movement had me looking over my shoulder to see Chris for the first time since that night. It’d been… a month, maybe? I wasn’t too sure. I tried not to think about it too much, mostly because although I was sure he didn’t mean the harsh words he’d said, they’d hurt me all the same.

But all of that disappeared from my mind when I noticed just how uncomfortable he looked under the harsh flashlights of the millions of cameras surrounding us. He was more cringing than smiling, his eyes seemingly unable to focus on anything, and his hands were curled into fists inside his pants’ pockets and his chest seemed to rise at an uncomfortable speed.

He was having a panic attack, I realized all of a sudden. And before I could acknowledge that my muscles were moving, I was already crossing the distance between us with a simple determination in my mind.

“Chris!” I greeted him, faking enthusiasm but making sure not to raise my voice higher than it was necessary for him to hear me. “How have you been?” He looked shocked to see me, but not as shocked as he was when I leaned over him, embracing his bigger body so I could whisper in his ear, “Just follow me.”

Keeping my hand on his elbow, I guided him through the masses of people stepping in and out of the red carpet towards the building where the ceremony would be held, counting on the fact that both of our publicists would leave us be until I found a relatively empty room to help him calm down. Thankfully, it didn’t take long.

“There you go,” I said as I helped him sit down on an empty sofa, trying not to stand too close so I wouldn’t suffocate him, but still close enough to check on how he looked. He had closed his eyes briefly, probably to try to focus on his breathing, but I felt my own breath disappear as his eyelashes fluttered open.

He looked as transfixed as I was, staring back at me.

Chris’ P.O.V.

“Would you look at that? You look like an angel.” It was the first thing I could think of, and so it was the first thing I found myself saying. And she really did. I watched her look down at her own body before she took in the fact that she was dressed in all-white, and then she met my eyes again and chuckled.

“I can see that you’re feeling better already.” And I was. Here, in this empty storage room with just the two of us, I felt like I could breathe again. I still wasn’t too sure how she realized that I needed to be swept away from the sea of photographers and interviewers out there, but I was glad that she did.

“Yeah,” I breathed out, still hypnotized by how great she looked in that outfit. I’d noticed she was pretty that other night, of course, but I hadn’t realized just how attractive she truly was. Pretty eyes, too. “I owe you one,” I added, licking my lips before opening a smile that seemed to blind her for a minute.

But just when I was about to make my move, the door was slammed open and my publicist and Scott appeared through it, clearly worried as they glanced in her direction before focusing back on me.

“What happened?” My brother asked, kneeling by my side as best as he could, considering the pants he was wearing. “Are you alright?” Despite the concern in his voice, I only had eyes for the girl who swiftly sneaked out of the room while I was left to calm down the people surrounding me.

“Yes, yes. I feel much better now. I just needed some time alone.” They seemed to understand, Scott nodding knowingly by my side as he put his hand on my shoulder, talking my ear off about something while we walked to our designated seats.

I wasn’t listening. My mind was completely focused on her and the way she looked on that dress. I wanted to see her again, but I couldn’t find her in the sea of people, all looking for their own places before the ceremony started.

I just wanted to see her once more in those clothes. Just so I could picture her without them.

I didn’t know why that white fabric was doing things to me. Maybe it was how innocent it made her look, and she was younger than me, after all. Perhaps there was a kink there to uncover.

It didn’t seem like I’d be able to do that with her, though. Despite catching a few glances of her during the ceremony, I didn’t manage to find her anywhere once the after-party started, and so my resolve was already cracking when I felt someone tugging on my suit.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I turned to the side to find Beatrice staring up at me with a sensuous smile I knew all too well. This was a game we played a thousand times before. She was my go-to whenever award season rolled around, and if I didn’t look for her, she’d come to find me, wherever I was.

I glanced towards the main entrance one last time before deciding it was useless, turning my entire body and attention towards the woman actually interested in me, instead. At least with her, I knew that I would get some release by the end of the night.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“You know, I don’t exactly consider this to be a relaxing environment,” I teased as Shawn pulled me towards the mass of people that seemed to move as a single body. He turned around to roll his eyes at me, but I could only giggle. He’d been nothing but nice to me ever since I moved to L.A., and joining him in this afterparty was the least I could do to show how grateful I was for his warm welcome.

I followed him towards the bar and grabbed a beer for myself before scooping my surroundings. I recognized most of the people here, if only because I knew of them through social media or their work. Still, a few faces were more familiar and friendly, and so I found myself smiling and waving to some people I’d talked to before until my eyes fell on a memorable velvet suit.

Chris was too busy lapping the inside of some actress’ mouth to be able to notice me, but after a few seconds of my not-so-secret ogling, he pulled away to catch his breath and his eyes fell on mine.

Instinctively, I looked away, trying to locate Shawn in the crowd since he seemed to have stepped away from me without me noticing it, but then just as instinctively, my gaze found Chris again, and I flushed. The predatory smirk on his face didn’t help my embarrassment, either.

I tried to find something, someone, anything to occupy myself with while I couldn’t find Shawn. Luckily enough, Taylor seemed to see just how lost I was and waved me over, introducing me to some of her friends as she pointed me to a seat I could take.

I engaged in the girls’ conversation and lost track of time, both Shawn and Chris escaping from my mind in the talks about music, record deals, and disgusting men from labels. But then the girls decided to go dance and I declined to join them, opting to stay alone with my thoughts for a little bit as I tried to process this new reality I was living in. I still couldn’t believe this was my life now.

“Did you know Chris Evans is checking you out?” One of the girls, who had come back to get her phone, whispered in my ear as she leaned over the table. “Seriously, he can’t take his eyes off of you. I think it’s making his date jealous.”

And sure enough, as I looked over my shoulder, I found him staring at me, a serious look on his face I just couldn’t figure out. And so I opted to raise my glass to him, holding back a laugh when his eyes widened in surprise before I returned my attention to the table, looking for my own phone.

“Is this seat taken?” I was sincerely surprised when his voice interrupted my activity of scrolling down on Instagram, but then again, I guess it was only a matter of time until he finally found the guts to come over here and apologize. I mean, that had got to be the reason he’d been staring at me, right?

Chris’ P.O.V.

I licked my lips as I settled on the seat in front of her, immediately leaning over the table so she’d be able to hear me when I spoke. For all the fun I had at parties, even I had to admit that there were quite a lot of things about them that stressed me out - and loud music was a part of that list.

Still, the sight of her in that outfit made it all worth it. I knew she’d noticed my lingering stare, but there wasn’t much I could do - not with Beatrice waiting for me so we could go back to her place.

“Isn’t your date expecting you?” Y/N asked, waving at the woman I’d be sleeping with later tonight, and even though Bea reciprocated the gesture, even I could feel the waves of jealousy emanating from her.

Maybe it was time to cut the strings of our fling. Didn’t want her starting to see this as something more than what it really was.

That could wait until tomorrow, though. I was too far in now to pull back at the last second.

“I see you’ve found a way to deal with your anxiety.” The words were said so casually, I almost didn’t believe she’d uttered them. Except, when I looked up, I found her smiling knowingly at me, almost smirking, and then I was the one chuckling.

“I guess you could say that.” She shrugged, eyes falling to the beer she held between her hands as she pondered over what to say next. I was intrigued, attention completely on her, waiting for her to change the subject or keep going.

“That does seem to be the most pleasurable way to do that, doesn’t it?” Oh, shit. Now that I wasn’t expecting. Could it really be that this young, well-behaved widow had as much of a dirty mind as me?

“And here you had me, thinking you were the innocent type.” It was the truth. I could barely picture her in my bed. But as she choked on her drink, laughter flowing freely from her gorgeous lips once she was able to breathe again, an image of her on her hands and knees as I ravished her from behind slowly took shape in my mind.

“If you only knew the type of stuff I used to write about you.” That had me readjusting myself on the seat, not only so I could make sure I wouldn’t miss a single word out of her mouth, but also to make myself more comfortable, as my cock slowly began to harden.

“Oh really? You mean like fanfiction?” The only answer I got was an enthusiastic nod, the bottle of beer between her lips once more. I don’t remember ever envying an inanimate object before that moment. “Well, you’ve certainly picked my interest.”

I leaned back on the seat like I was preparing myself to hear whatever she had to share, but when she looked from my position to the woman still irritatingly fixated on the both of us, I knew I wouldn’t have the chance to.

“It seems like you have prior commitments to attend to. Wouldn’t want to stand in the way of you and your anxiety-relieving medicine.” I wheezed, still surprised at this side of her personality I was just uncovering. I’d expected her to be shyer, perhaps even judgmental of my sex life, but it was clear by now that it wasn’t the case at all.

“The night’s still young,” I still tried. “She can wait.” Her eyebrows rose up to her hairline as she scoffed, although she didn’t seem to think less of me for what I’d said.

“Now, what would your mother think of you if she heard you left a lady waiting like that? I expected more from you, Mr. Evans.” The use of my last name thrilled me to a degree I wasn’t expecting, and so there was nothing left for me to do than to bid her goodnight and go back to Beatrice’s place.

However, no amount of dirty sex could erase the improper thoughts I was having about a woman different than the one I was sleeping with, a woman who was so unlike anything I was used to finding in L.A. I wondered what type of stuff she was into. Was she really as kinky as she let on with her confession about writing fanfiction? I wanted to find out, that was certain.

And so it was with an indescribable pleasure that I found her on the app for hookups I’d often use when I was in this area. She truly was a breath of fresh air amidst hundreds of similar faces filled with botox and heavy makeup. I was excited to know more.

#my series #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader #chris evans reader insert #chris evans reader inserts #famous reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans series #chris evans fic

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 4 years

Text

Part Two. Jackbox Shenanigans

warnings: swearing word count: 2.6k (not including pictures) behind the screen (irl dream x reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

Y/n flinched awake, startled by the sounds traveling from the kitchen. Once again, the frosty air pricked her skin, trying to convince her to not move, to stay in bed under the warm blankets. Despite the feeling pulling her into her bed, she rubbed her eyes and sat up, grabbing her phone from her nightstand. Texts from Karl flooded her screen and she replied as she took her comforter off her mattress and wrapped it around herself. She pattered to the source of the noise to find her roommate was making food.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Naomi asked, eyes wide with concern as she looked at Y/n. "I dropped a pan."

Y/n, who was observing the world through one squinted eye, shook her head and she sat at the counter in the kitchen. "No, I should be awake anyway."

"You're usually awake much earlier. Late night?"

Y/n nodded. "George streamed and we all talked for a little after."

"Oh, yeah, I watched his stream this morning..." she started, eyes focused on the food in front of her but Y/n still caught the mischievous glint in her roommate's eyes.

"Of course you did," Y/n laughed through a yawn. "That's your lover."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you gave me his number he would be."

"He doesn't give it to many people. I just barely got it and I've been friends with him for a year. I'm pretty sure Karl doesn't even have it."

Naomi groaned, though Y/n knew it was a joke... for the most part. She got another text from Karl, and consulted Naomi for a second opinion.

"Should I post this?" Y/n asked, lazily holding up her phone with a picture on the screen. Naomi squinted as she looked back over her shoulder. "Karl keeps yelling at me too."

"Yeah! That's a cute outfit. Make sure to credit Karl or he'll yell at you for that as well."

"No chance I'm doing that."

Incoming FaceTime... karol <3

Y/n hit accept and held the phone up to make a face at Karl. He mimicked the position. "Hello, sir."

"Hello, ma'am."

"What are you doing?" she asked him, walking to the bathroom to brush her teeth, her comforter dragging on the floor behind her as it continued to protect her from the cold.

Karl got distracted and started messing with something out of the camera view. "Um, trying to figure out what to do for my stream tonight. What about you?"

"I'm waiting for you to give me a fit check!" Y/n yelled. Karl quickly looked at the camera and smiled. He set his phone down on his desk and ran backward so his whole body was in frame. He posed awkwardly a few different ways before running back and resuming his position.

"Yes!" Y/n hyped with a mouthful of toothpaste. "Let's go, Karl! Karl with the old man sweater!!"

He giggled. "You're the one that told me to buy it."

"Because it's sick. Doesn't mean it didn't belong to an old man before you."

Karl pouted before his face lit up. "Guess what. I met a girl."

"Oh?" Y/n cooed. "Where? Do you have pictures? Is she cute?"

"She's Jimmy's new cameraman. Camerawoman. I don't have pictures, and yes. She's very cute." His cheeks turned red and Y/n smiled, flipping off the bathroom light and heading to her closet. She threw her comforter back on the bed and tried to pick out an outfit.

"Come on, bud, elaborate. What's her name? Have you asked her out yet?"

"You don’t get to know her name, I don’t want to jinx anything. Plus, you’ll just look ‘Mr Beast crew’ and find out anyway. Also, no, I haven’t. I'm pretty sure she thinks I hate her because I have not said a single word to her. I get so nervous when she's around I freeze up and just like... act weird. And then as soon as she's gone, Chris freaking roasts me so bad."

"Aw, I can teach you how to flirt if you want!"

"Yeah, okay," he scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"What's with the attitude? I'm great at flirting."

"No, you're not. I watched Gogy's stream last night."

"What does that have anything to do with anything?"

"I heard the way you spoke to Dream."

"What?!"

"You have zero game, Y/n. Absolutely none. Zilch, if you will."

"Yeah, because I wasn't flirting with him?"

"Not successfully, at least."

"Karl, what?" Y/n laughed but she was so confused. "No part of me was trying to flirt with anyone in that stream."

"Oh, come on," Karl groaned. "Don't do this again. Don't pretend to not like a guy and then cry to me when you're wack ass attempts don't win him over."

"Karl," Y/n started, looking directly at him. "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about. I wasn't flirting with him. I do not like him."

"I'm just saying, you talk about him a lot. Like, you always panic when he interacts with your posts because you're scared he's going to DM you right after. And you gush about him a lot."

"I do not gush. I admire the hard work he puts into his videos but I talk the same about him as I do with George and Sapnap. The only difference is I'm friends with them and not Mr. Minecraft. He's intimidating, that doesn't mean I have a crush on him."

Karl stared for a moment, trying to read Y/n's expression to detect any lies. "You'd tell me if you did, right?"

"Karl, I tell you everything. I'd tell you if I murdered your family." They both laughed. "It's impossible to hide anything from you, you're my best friend."

"Okay, sweet, but please don't murder my family, just to be clear."

"I won't. I love your mom too much."

"Well, how was meeting Dream, then? Despite apparently not being in love with him?"

"It was cool. Terrifying because it felt very forced but the four of us hung out on the call after George ended his stream and he was much more relaxed."

"That's true. Aren't we all?"

"Not you! You're the exact same person on and off camera. Just a little ball of giggles."

Karl giggled which made them both laugh more. Suddenly, as if he completely forgot until that moment, Karl sat up quickly and yelled, "What am I going to do for the stream?"

Y/n shrugged. "See if anyone wants to play Jackbox. Chat always loves those and it's relatively easy to throw together last minute. You just need to find people that are free to play."

"Genius. Who should we invite?"

"We?"

"Yeah. It was your idea, you have to play."

"But, I've never played! And I barely know all your friends so I wouldn't get half the inside jokes. I'd be a boring addition."

"Please? They're your friends too! You just talked to Sapnap and George for four hours yesterday and George was the only one playing anything. That's friendship if I've ever seen it."

"But... others.... like literally everyone besides Sap and George...."

"Things like this are how you get to know them better. Besidessss, you're never boring."

"Fine, I'll play."

"YES!" he shouted. "Okay, who should we invite?"

**********

Y/n huffed and scooted her chair closer to her desk. She pulled up Discord and hovered over the voice chat everyone was in. An overwhelming number of voices chaotically spoke over each other as soon as she joined.

"Oh no," she mumbled.

"AYYEE!!" a voice yelled, the green bubble lighting around Quackity's name confirming her suspicions.

"Aye," she said back less enthusiastic. "Hi everyone."

"She's here!" George cheered.

Y/n could hear Sapnap huff. "Finally. Geesh."

"This isn't even your stream, calm down." Y/n's eyes scanned the names on the left to read who else was involved in tonight's games. She had suggested a few people to Karl but wasn't sure about the final list. Besides the boys who had already greeted her were BadBoyHalo and Dream.

"Hello, Bugsy! It's nice to meet you! I'm BadBoyHalo."

Y/n smiled widely at his voice. "Hi, BadBoyHalo! Nice to meet you too."

Her eyes slowly traveled to the last name on the list, which had yet to greet her. She wasn't bitter, but she was curious why he hadn't said anything yet. The boys hyped up him talking about her so much but she had yet to feel that energy from him. She picked at the bottom of her hoodie, eyes darting between the names as they lit up when someone spoke.

"Is Dream still AFK?" Sapnap asked.

"I think so," Bad replied.

Maybe that's the only reason he hadn't said anything. Y/n felt stupid for thinking it had anything to do with her.

"He's probably coding something or something like that," George teased.

"Haha nerdy ass man," Quackity cackled.

"Language."

"Don't you also code shit, George?" Sapnap called out. "You're probably helping him test something after this, huh? As Quackity said, nerdy ass man."

"You know what, Sapnap? I'm not sure I like your attitude all that much."

Y/n smiled. Despite feeling nervous, she was already having fun just listening to everyone talk. The real nerves would kick in when they were live in front of tens of thousands of people and she would have to be funny.

A message popped up in the general chat, notifying everyone that Karl was joining the voice call soon so they shouldn't say anything bad.

"Everyone say something weird," Quackity directed.

Discord dinged and Karl's name joined the list on the side. "AAAHHHH-!" he started yelling over everyone to let them know he was here in case they were saying anything bad. With his luck, they were going to say stuff anyway to mess with him.

"So, yeah, that's how I lost my virginity," Quackity said as if he just finished a story.

"To a prostitute?" Sapnap added quickly. "Wow, I never thought you... oh Karl!"

"Language!" Bad gasped.

"What the..." Karl laughed loudly. "What did I just join?"

"Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry," Quackity apologized, which was hard to make out since he was laughing so hard, surprised at what Sapnap added to his joke.

"Bad, you can't say language about a prostitute," Sapnap defended. "That's really rude of you. Maybe it's a little unconventional but they're just tryna make some money the best way they know how."

George laughed with Quackity as Bad sputtered. "I-I said language about what Quackity said!"

"What, virginity?" Karl asked innocently and Bad yelled again.

"Bad hates people who have had sex!" Y/n called, causing Quackity to laugh loudly.

"Bad! How could you?! That's so messed up!"

"Wait, guys, is everyone here?" Karl asked.

"Dream isn't. We don't know where he went."

Karl groaned and started typing something, presumably yelling at Dream to join.

"Let's goooo! We're popping off!" Quackity started saying, stalling. "We're popping off!" George joined him, becoming absolute fools to keep the chat entertained.

"Okay, he's here!" Karl said. "Everyone's here!"

"I'm here, I'm here, sorry. I was... yeah, sorry," Dream stuttered out.

"Welcome back, Dream!" Bad chirped.

"Hello!" he replied. Unexpectedly, his next greeting was directed at Y/n. "Hi, Bug."

Y/n instantly got shy for no discernable reason. She blamed it on his voice and its ability to manipulate emotions any way he wanted. That and she was getting attention from someone first. "Hi," she squeaked back, hoping the contrast of her icy hands would cool her face enough to focus on the game.

"Bugsy, you are adorable," Bad stated simply.

"Sapnap! What did you just send me?" George asked loudly, and just like that, the attention was off of her and she could breathe again.

"What?" Sapnap feigned innocence.

This was going to be a long game.

"Let's play!" Karl decided. "Should we warm up with some Quippy?"

Y/n focused intensely on her answers, silently hoping the others would find her funny.

"Oh my gosh," she mumbled as everyone else finished writing. "Y'all, I'm about to get Quiplashed so hard. Don't make fun of me."

"I seriously doubt it," Dream said. "You can't possibly be worse than George at this game."

"Shut up, we always- it's like 3 am my time. I can't, like, think of things 'cause my brain isn't functioning."

"Yeah, that's why," Sapnap teased.

"Surreee," Dream said.

The first round wasn't too bad. Y/n was in 5th place but she got quite a few laughs so she didn't care too much about where she stood. She got a notification from Dream on Twitter as everyone laughed at one of Quackity's answers.

Y/n looked back at her screen and saw the new prompt and answers. She read them quickly as everyone was laughing and with a few seconds left to choose, voted for the one on the left. It was funnier anyway.

She loosened up substantially after another round, and she knew it was mostly because Dream had reached out to her. Something about him comforted her and made her feel safe, which warmed her heart.

"Bugsy! What the hell, that's so messed up. You're so messed up," Quackity yelled, laughing at the answer on the screen. They were playing Survive the Internet and her comment got taken way out of context, just as the game intended.

"Oh my gosh!" Karl cackled loudly. "Bugsy, I didn't know you felt that way. Oh my gosh? They're just kids?? Bugsy out the gang?"

Y/n hid her face in her hands and laughed. "Noooo!! Wait I never knew- I didn't know I was ever in the gang?"

"She really said, 'infant children? slaughter them all'," Sapnap joked.

"You know, I think you'd get along really well with Technoblade," Dream added. "Though his specialty is orphans, as it appears."

"No, no, no, whoever wrote that heading is SO messed up!" Y/n defended, rereading the heading that made her comment look bad. She knew it was a game but all the attention on her was making her embarrassed. "Who would think to put that?"

"Everyone cancel Busgy!" Karl yelled.

"Karl, no! You're supposed to be my best friend!"

"I don't know how I feel about my best friend killing children..."

"Karl!!"

"Nooo," Bad protested softly. "I like Bugsy. Don't cancel her."

"Everyone vote!"

The article with Y/n's name turned out to be Dream's. "Dream! What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled, causing him to wheeze loudly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wanted point."

The whole night ended up being like that. Y/n had a lot of fun and by the end, she felt a lot more comfortable with all of them. Quackity, Karl, and Sapnap were loud and very high energy while George and Bad were quieter. Dream was half and half, sometimes matching Quackity's volume and sometimes going a while without saying a word. Overall, Y/n had a lot of fun and hoped to let back in the gang in the future.

**********

PREVIOUS • NEXT

**********

A/N: WOOO PART TWOOO!! Hope you guys enjoyed this part! Also thank you so much for all the love on the first part!! I did not expect it to get as much attention as it did!!!!!

we clearly haven’t got to dream and yn being close yet bc they literally met the day before this but i added a small little dream/yn moment :] pls let me know how you liked this part!!!!!!!!!!!!

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan

#rpf #real person fiction #dream x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #dreamwastaken smau #dream smau #social media fiction #social media au

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littlespoonevan · 3 years

Note

You have Thoughts about Eddie's face journeys thru s4 esp where Buck is concerned???? 👀 🍿🍿🍿

i sure do!!!!!!!!!!!

ok so i think there are 3 possible scenarios for how s4 played out re: 4x14 and the will, right?

1. ryan was made aware of eddie changing his will at some point early on in the season (around 4x04-ish) and therefore was responding appropriately (in conjunction with the script and director obviously) to how he thought eddie would react to buck

2. ryan didn't know but the writers did and so were purposefully including these lingering moments in the script where they would focus on eddie's reaction to buck

3. nobody knew until late in the season and it's all a huge coincidence

no matter which option it is, something about the way eddie looks at buck in season 4 is just Different?????

like season 2 is obviously about establishing their dynamic and developing their friendship. and season 3 in its own right has some very loud moments to really drive home their significance in each other's lives (the tsunami, the lawsuit, the kitchen scene, the skateboard etc.)

but while season 4 is a much quieter season in comparison and we definitely went whole episodes without any sort of major interactions between them, i honestly think it's the most...damning? in terms of evidence for how much they mean to each other (or at least how much buck means to eddie??) bc it’s more subtle, sure, but it speaks volumes to the depths of how they know each other

everything about how eddie reacts to buck in 4x04 and 4x05 shows how much he cares about him. being the calm to buck’s anger when he’s venting his frustrations on the punching bag, validating his feelings and saying he doesn’t need to apologise to his parents, being the one to know buck is talking to dr copeland, the “that’s not on you” and “i know you did” said so softly.

none of it’s necessarily Big or Declarative but it’s there and it’s a given and you can tell eddie’s worried about him even if he’s not vocal about it like the others. you can see it in his face that he’s trying to figure out how to make buck remember he’s not alone and he ultimately does that in the same way buck did for him so much in s2 - he offers support like it’s a given and he doesn’t push beyond that

likewise the scene in treasure hunt haunts me where buck says he doesn’t trust anyone and eddie’s face just looks....so different to everyone else. the rest of the 118 are mock offended but eddie looks so?????? i don’t even know what the right word is but he’s very clearly thinking in that moment - about buck and trust and his abandonment issues and how to make him understand he matters to eddie (and chris)

also i was talking about this with @evanbucxley the other day but the moment at the beginning of jinx too with the whole ‘check’ thing where eddie completely indulges buck for no reason?????????? and does so in a way that clearly shows this is a conversation they’ve already had bc he knows what buck wants him to say. i’m literally not even lying when i say it might be one of my favourite scenes of all time for them bc he’s so fond???? and the fact this is coupled with him telling buck he’s allowed time to process if he’s not ready to move on after the daniel revelation and saying ‘still not sure what inspired this software update�� about buck 3.0

all of this is to say, having these quiet asides where we see these moments play out in eddie’s expression whether they were deliberate or not, laid such a perfect foundation for everything that happened in 4x13/4x14. because you watch buck completely lose it when eddie gets shot and you watch him break down sobbing and you watch him step up to take care of christopher in a way that’s so expected and accepted by the other characters and you watch eddie’s face when buck says it’d be better if he got shot and then you watch the hospital scene and you just think....of course

of course eddie would do this. of course he would choose buck - he loves buck and he trusts buck more than anyone. of course this makes sense. and i honestly don’t know where they’re taking things from here but i think so much of season 4 showed eddie quietly reflecting on his feelings for buck and how he specifically cares for him (not even necessarily romantically but just as one of the most important people in his life) which then culminated in the hospital scene and “you act like you’re expendable but you’re wrong” - arguably one of the most significant things any character has ever said to buck. and i’d really, really love if we got a similar journey for buck in regards to eddie in s5 :’)

#buddie #anon #asks #mine #this is so incoherent i'm sorry askdjfha #and now i need to edit chapter 2 of the practical magic au so excuse me while i dip out lmao #long post

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kthynes · 3 years

Text

the caller you have reached (chris evans x reader)

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: chris was trying to drunkenly call the woman he loved and wanted to get back with but instead he reaches you, a shrink.

warning: swearing (sailor level), brief mentions of mental health

**IMPORTANT disclaimer: I won't be dabbling into the hard hitting topics of mental health in this short only because I'm not a certified health professional and so I can't be providing a written, unbiased, often characterized diagnosis towards any sort of mental health disorder because really, those types of sensitivities need proper care and output. With that being said, I do want to emphasize the notions of seeking help and not being afraid to seek help when needed. It's hard, but we all fight a battle and no battle is big or small or better or worse.

If my followers or readers do feel the need to privately chat with me, I'm here and I can you lend you an ear. Otherwise let's be kind and uplift another while we can. No harm in doing good and being better, that's for sure!

-end rant-

This short is dedicated to the following lovelies:

@princess-evans-addict

@mrs-djokovic

@slut-for-chris-evans

@saltyflowermakertaco

@bitchyslut99

@patzammit

@itskikiyooo

@maximeevansblog

Being a working adult is dreadful but the work you do is the most fulfilling kind of anarchy. You are a therapist, you work to heal and you work together with people who willingly reach out to you and your facility of care. There is that balance, the altering nuances in between that allows you to do what you do best. You advocate for good prosperity of mental health and accolade of teachable moments that fosters a safe space for your clients, not patients, but the people who deserve to be heard and not be medically categorized.

Your salubrious passion keeps you grounded. In your lifetime, you've seen the imperial impacts of poor mental health and it has been a detrimental drive in how you retreat and give back to a small found community.

"Okay." You exhale to yourself while leafing through another client chart. You're working off the clock, stuck in the renaissance of your homey office space while the outside world turns pitch black.

In the appropriate fields you jot down important takeaways from your last sit in session with heavy concertation and reasoning, you try to congregate a treatment plan all before you cellphone cries for you in venturous fashion.

"Hello?" You answer without checking the caller ID, tucking the device between your ear and shoulder so that way you could work and talk.

"Jenny!" The man boisterously shouts. "Jenny baby please talk to me! Let me make it up to you, let's just do this right, please. I'm fucked up here."

"I'm sorry but you have the wrong number." You infringe sounding like the posh, automated answering machine lady.

"Oh what the fuck Jenny — oh cah'mon don't do that, don't be like that baby." You re-verify a local number and it doesn't belong to anyone you know of. So you wonder who this man is but choose not to press further instead you tell him what is right from the knowing wrong.

"I'm not Jenny."

"Seriously?" He yells, forcing you to hold the phone away from your ear. "That can't be... This is—" He recites the number that is similar to yours but the last two digits are off.

"You got 42, not 53." It's an easy mistake to recall, a swipe of a drunken thumb could've mixed that up, so this time around, you're forgiving. Not that it happens often.

"Oh no. That's—" The mystery man trails, something about his voice discerns you, it's familiar but in a hindbrain way that you can't put a finger on. "Fuuuuuuuck."

"Wait hold on, hold up, is this Jenny's assistant, Nina?" You exhale sharply sometimes it takes more than one try and a side of convincing to get your point across and your passiveness was certainly to blame.

"No I'm not her assistant either."

"Then who the hell are you?" He exasperates. You make the snide mistake of telling him your name and he buffers for a bit.

"Oh. So you really aren't anyone of my concern then?"

"No." You mildly retort. "I wouldn't want to be anyways."

"Okay well I'm not sorry then because I'm here trying to reach my girlfriend and I can't get to her because I have you on the line being a smartass." With that accent of his you can tell he's a patriotic Bostonian. One of your own kind and that furloughs your need to engage in this mindless drivel, it wouldn't get you or him anywhere. At least that's what you tell yourself before shutting him down.

"Well then maybe you should learn to listen first, how about that?" You snap, dropping your pen before you note down angry nonsense into your actual work.

"Hey nowwww!" He yells as if he's trying to be Hank Kinsley.

"It's clear that you're drunk."

He brushes you off on the other end, enigmatic in what he wants you to know. "This is Chris Evans, you're talking to Chris-motherfucking-Evans, you hear?"

"I do now." You say tersely.

"Good." He huffs. "Good... Cause you know I'm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and this is what I get. This is what I seemingly deserve, god you women I swear..."

Your face changes. You don't agree to be a lending ear but somehow Chris forces you to hear him out.

"I told her Y/N. I TOLD her that I wasn't ready to take the next step but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with her. And now she throws it back in my face by getting with some other guy she once dated back in high school. And somehow, I'm supposed to be ok with it and move on, as she tells me. How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?"

"I, um, I don't know what to tell you." You sigh somberly.

"Of course you don't!" His Boston twang begins to nerve you as there some remitting frequency of it. Hearing him obnoxiously go off, reminds you of all your shrewd New England exes who were his exact counterpart when soused. A ludicrous memory that you relive again with time and perfect harmony.

"Listen lady all I'm saying is that I fucked up. I know I did alright? I mean it doesn't take much denominational math and the plot of Lost in Translation to get that. I get it!"

Jesus. You whisper the lords name in vain as you lean your forehead against the palm of your hand while your elbow rested on top of the desk.

"So, let me get this straight, you think yelling at a random woman will help get further?" You question a little acutely for his liking.

"I don't know but it sure as hell takes off the heat, sweetheart." Something about a man calling you sweetheart grinds your gears and now your molars.

"Okay, alright, let's talk." You begin, sitting up a bit and tearing out a blank page from your memo pad; you were doing a late night consultation, a small hash out.

"Schuwaaaaa." Chris enunciates the word sure and to much of his mayhem, he’s sprawled out on the curbside, somewhere in the nowhere land of L.A. He contented but also upset and you were simply crashing his little pity party.

"What is it that you want from Jenny?" You professionally prod. "How about we start there."

"Wooooah, what is that we're doing here?” Chris gets mildly defensive with you. “I dunno you like that. If we're gonna talk then you'll have to get through my publicist first because right now I plead the fifth.”

You exhale a deep and fulsome breath. No one troubles you like him. It's sanctimoniously unnerving.

"I'm a shrink, my job isn’t meant to incriminate my clients well-being, or anyone else’s for that matter.” You address calmly. “So, if you do require some solicited advice then we can keep this call under strict confidence. You have my word, Mr. Evans and the paperwork that will follow shortly after this call.”

Silence. There is some shocking silence which is brief before you're catapulted with disbelief and more cackles. "Holy mother fucking shit. You're kidding me?"

"I can run you by my credentials if you’d like?” You mention stiffly.

"God I’ve reached a cuckoo hotline!" Wrong. That's a horrible thing to say and you'd think a man like him would've been more sensitive about his choice of words, inebriated or not.

"Far from it."

"Tell me something, alright? How many grown, adult men come crying to you?" Chris is edging with curiosity even though his eyes are betrayingly reddened after crying into a bottle of Dewars 18. He doesn't make that known to you and you never cared to ask.

"Enough to know that they cry." You simply state.

"Huh. So this is just another Tuesday for you then.” Chris scoff, the bottle making it to his lips and then swishing back down again.

"Comes with the territory except I don't tolerate drunkenness." You motely add. "Can you keep the bottle aside for the time being? Just until we're done here."

"That's understandable and oh yeah sure, sure, I won't touch it." You can hear the glass bottle 'clink' when coming into contact with the pavement.

"Now tell me about Jenny." You softly inquire.

"What do you wanna know? How we fuck or how we met?" Chris giggles like a naughty school yard boy.

"How did you two meet?" You slam the words urgently, nearly spelling out the cause.

"Oh! Oh. We met on the job." Chris chuckles punitively.

"Okay and did you guys connect instantly or was there a slow build up?" You involuntarily took notes for any PR rep of his that wanted solid evidence that would preside this call, cover your bases and your poor ass along with it.

"Instantly. Our chemistry read was off the charts." He explains with a slight hiccup. "Sorry."

"Great. So it was more so a work relationship that later grew into something more correct?"

"Pretty much."

"So when did you start developing feelings for her?"

"Um I'd say..." Chris tucks his chin, burps and then excuses himself before continuing. "Just before we wrapped up filming. But then I think somewhere in between all that I realized that she was my kind of girl, my... better half."

"And what made you come to that realization?"

"Well for one she has this infectious laugh that would have you laughing with her, there's that sound of beauty and pureness to it. And then with that, there were all the little things she'd do for me that made me think, like damn she's the one, she's it for me and that for better or for worse, I'd need her more than she'd ever need me."

Chris gets sad and you feel for him. Your pen stops moving when you were about to prescribe him some mind memory exercises. He was human. Humans hurt. Humans make mistakes. Humans stray but they also love. That's all Chris did. He loved with all of his heart to not expect the same love in return.

"You know Chris, we don't always get the love we deserve and sometimes its sucks. Sometimes you wanna kick it back with a bottle of Dewars 18 and shake your fists in the air." Chris quietly perks up at your choice of alcohol that you didn't know he was forcefully downing. He fashions a small half smile that you don't see but hear faintly. "But there's also a time and a place and things happen, people come apart, people get together, people do people and there's that fine line of letting life run its uneven course."

"I mean you sometimes have to not be okay to be okay again and I know that from my many years of helpful healing. It gets okay, never fully better and I think that's just how it is. You acknowledge your pain, your trauma and then you go on while being mindful of that transition."

"Wow."

"Hey, um, look, I actually have to get going. But if you can, just down the rest of that bottle and get yourself home."

"Are you sure?" Chris gawks.

"I mean you were already halfway through and it's not like I can physically stop you, right? And besides this is what I'm prescribing to you. I want you to acknowledge your pain, drink away your sorrows and then smash that bottle so you can be relieved from that trauma and hurt. After that you need to fix up and start new, have a mature conversation with her, if you can and then have your feet hitting the ground again. Don't fall into the routine of heartbreak even if it becomes too hard, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good." You sniff and start to put things away. "I know you're a good guy Chris, from how you are on TV and in interviews, I'm amazed by how articulate you are. You have the right mindset so I have no doubts that you'll fall back in any way. But if you do, please don't hesitate to reach out, I might have to hand you off to another cohort but nonetheless it can be worked out even if it does feel like you might be sparring on your own. You'll get the help you need."

"Great, thanks." Chris responds in his conscious state of thought. He feels pathetic with himself and that doesn't have you galling over the fact, instead you let him be.

"Do you need me to order you an Uber? Cab? Call a friend for ya?" You laugh easily and Chris hears it clearly, smiling in return.

"An Uber would be nice. I'll try to share you my location."

"Sure, on me and that'd be great."

"Thanks."

"No problem... And your ride should be here in two minutes, just look out for Raul in black Elantra." You inform him after checking your phone.

"Nice."

"You have a goodnight now Chris."

"You too." The line cuts and you're given a piece of your life back. You gather your belongings, flip off the light switch and make your way home. There's some truth and some brokenness in every situation. You knew Chris was going to be OK even if he didn't consult you afterwards. For you, there was no need. He's a smart man and he proves this over a prolonged period of time when he finally finds himself back on the market and then eventually in a relationship with a faceless and very loving woman from his own hometown.

He was finally happy, making you serendipitously glad that you were the caller he had reached.

#chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

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

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#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans one shot #once bitten/more hearts

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felassan · 4 years

Link

Article: ‘Mass Effect 3 Could Have Had A Completely Different Ending’

The Mass Effect 3 ending has been a controversial subject for nine years. As it turns out, it could have been completely different.

This article is part of TheGamer’s Mass Effect week.

Highlights:

This [the RGB endings] wasn’t always the case. According to Mass Effect 3 writer Chris Hepler, the end of Shepard’s story could have been radically different.

Hepler started working on Mass Effect right at the beginning. Although he wasn’t formally part of the team yet, he did additional design, chipped in for playtesting, and offered a fair amount of writing feedback during development of the first game. He had a much more active role on Mass Effect 2, writing the Codex entries, the Galaxy Map, and spearheading the Cerberus Daily News initiative. By the time Mass Effect 3 rolled around, Hepler was writing EDI, Thane, Citadel missions, and was generally considered to be the project’s “loremaster.”

“The ending relies on space magic, and the lead writer, lead gameplay designer, and executive producer all just embraced that and owned it from the get-go,” Hepler tells me. “‘Any sufficiently advanced technology’ and all that. They wanted and got a really big decision that affects the whole galaxy. If you give it a moment's thought, none of the three options are perfectly moral or the ‘right’ answer for everyone. Destroy may not solve the problem of AI and organics; Control rewards the Reapers; even Synthesis, which is harder to get than the other two and sounds like it'd be permanent peace, basically violates the entire galaxy's bodily autonomy without consent. So that part, I think, works.

“Did it satisfy the fans? Hell, no, not at first, and I found a lot of the criticism to be legitimate. The Extended Cut gave us a second chance to make an ending that acknowledged many more of the players' choices, and was about as good as we could reasonably make given the decisions we'd already made. I felt a lot better about myself and us as a team after the EC came out.”

Hepler explains that fans had observed several hints throughout the trilogy that pointed in completely different directions. For example, there are aspects of the lore that actually lean towards the Citadel species allying with the Reapers in order to collectively tackle a dark energy anomaly, as opposed to the Reapers remaining as the Big Bad right up until credits roll. Hepler confirms that there are explicit lore details that lean into this idea, but that he never personally heard about capitalizing on them. Remember, this is coming from the Mass Effect loremaster - if he says there is lore to back up a dark energy anomaly that only the Reapers can save us from, it certainly exists.

“Now, what would I have done?” Hepler asks. “I wouldn't have done space magic at all. I planned to write three Codex entries on the Crucible rather than one, reflecting on what scientists think it is at first, what it appears to be once construction has really made progress, and a third detailing how it will kill the Reapers, readable right before you return to Earth.”

Hepler explains that he wanted to take inspiration from Nancy Kress’ novel, Probability Moon, in order to have the Crucible use a strong nuclear force as a weapon. Kress’ superweapon is designed to create a massive burst of energy that is completely harmless for objects that have a low atomic weight, like organic flesh made of carbon chains. This means that the vast majority of Citadel species would be virtually unaffected by a blast from this weapon.

Objects with a much higher atomic number, however, would be annihilated by the beam. This weapon is constructed in such a way that it emits life-killing radiation for anything made up of heavy metals. “So cybernetic creatures like the Reapers and husks would have their organic parts fried because they're right next to the heavy metals, but the organic creatures a safe distance away, like a civilian population, would be just fine,” Hepler says.

“The rebuilt Shepard, who had a fair bit of cybernetics, would die heroically, but that was always likely to be on the cards. In talking with Ann Lemay, another writer on the project, we theorized that the metal most likely to be the atomic weight cut-off-point was niobium, which today is used in piercings and surgical implants because it doesn't rust and you can embed it in flesh without ill effects. It's even blue when exposed to oxygen, like the glowing blue husks we've been fighting since [the first] Mass Effect. So it would make sense as a building block for the Reapers and their ultimate weakness.”

So, what happened? Unfortunately, Hepler never got to pitch his ending. The design leads moved lightning quick with their Destroy/Control/Synthesis trifecta, to the point that the whole premise had been approved before Hepler even got around to finishing his second Codex entry. As a result, he hadn’t got a full description of how this pertained to the entire galaxy yet - although looking at it now, it could have borrowed from the best bits of each ending. The Reapers would be neutralized, but the tech would be there. Given that Mass Effect is largely about the coexistence of humans and cybernetic creatures, it would also have had an impact on other aspects of the universe - what would happen to EDI?

“I [also] had some concern that Nancy Kress might notice and sue us if I didn't do my homework,” Hepler says. “And there was no time to do that homework, which would be me telling all the leads to hold off for a week while I exchanged a crap-ton of emails with my subject matter experts. ‘Sufficiently advanced technology indistinguishable from magic’ was far easier and had much more project momentum. “I recycled some of the strong-force-as-a-weapon tech into the Reaper infantry weapon, the Blackstar. In retrospect, I wish I'd spoken up more, or thought it all out faster, but them's the breaks.”

As well as Hepler’s own ending - which obviously never made it into the final game, despite sounding as if it had a lot more hard science behind it - Hepler is a big fan of the popular Indoctrination Theory. However, he was pretty open about the fact that this wasn’t something BioWare consciously designed.

“The Indoctrination Theory is a really interesting theory, but it's entirely created by the fans,” Hepler says. “While we made some of the ending a little trippy because Shepard is a breath away from dying and it's entirely possible there's some subconscious power to the kid's words, we never had the sort of meetings you'd need to have to properly seed it through the game.

“We weren't that smart. By all means, make mods and write fanfic about it, and enjoy whatever floats your boat, because it's a cool way to interpret the game. But it wasn't our intention. We didn't write that.”

[source]

#bioware #mass effect #video games #long post #longpost

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Would lowkey kill to see Kauri attempting to write poetry in his relationship with Jake era (omg Jake helping him/being the one to write it down) I always forget that he was a writer and loves poetry and I love him 10 times more every time I remember

CW: Some references to past trauma, forced illiteracy, some brief internalized victim-blaming/slut-shaming, Kauri’s low self-esteem

Takes place after Worth the Risk and Kauri’s first glimpse of his own past

“This is fucking stupid. I can’t fucking do this.” Kauri picks up the notebook, hard-backed blue with little golden stars twinkling on the cover, and throws it full-strength across the room until it smacks into the wall and drops to the ground, open to his own scrawling, struggling handwriting.

Chris, wrapped in a big fuzzy blue blanket and curled up in an armchair playing a game on his phone or texting Laken or maybe both, flinches and looks up. “Kauri?”

Kauri looks away from the earnest concern in those huge green eyes and kicks ineffectually at the coffee table, hissing when he doesn’t actually miss and his toes connect with the hard wooden leg. “Fuck. Fucking-... bullshit, I’m an idiot trying to do this, just-... god damn it. I should know better.”

There’s a silence, and then Chris asks, softly, “Know better than, than... than to what? What were you, um, you doing?”

Kauri’s jaw is set and for a second he considers lying. He’s a good liar, after all, and Chris is always so ready to believe him, he wouldn’t even question it. Safer to lie, hide the ideas inside his head, talk instead about something soft and surface-level.

Safer to be stupid, always.

But he’s trying not to do that anymore.

He’s trying.

“Writing,” He says, finally. “I was... trying to-... write something.” The words are ground out of him nearly against his will. He glares at the notebook lying open on the floor, the scrawling handwriting of the fucked up slut still thinking he can be anything else. Looping and childish, too big almost to fit within the lines.

“Oh.” Chris pauses, and then brightens, setting his phone aside and straightening up. “You, you sad you think that you used to, to, to, to write, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kauri’s head hurts, a sharp punishing ache. How dare he think in metaphor and simile, how dare he try to build the villanelle, how dare he remember vaguely arguing with someone in a coffeeshop over old poetic forms being superior to poems that don’t even try to fit within a rhythm, and he just-

This is so-

He’s so stupid, thinking he could just pick it up again like it hasn’t been a decade or close, like he’s still whatever stupid shit lived in his body before he-

signed up for this-

followed a fucking hot guy outside in the dark and got thrown into a van and made into Kauri.

“Well, my... my professor for, for, for, for Playwriting says... says writing is a muscle. You, you have to exercise. And you can’t do the, um, the, the, the-the heavy weights until you start with, with small ones.”

Kauri snorts, derisive, but it’s not because Chris is wrong - of course he’s not wrong. Part of Kauri knows it, too, that he used to write all the time, around the pounding inside his skull he knows that he used to scribble lines on napkins and paper towels and the margins of his study books, bringing together the poem itself only later, usually alone or with a boyfriend on the other side of the room. He used to be able to do this.

He used to do this all the time.

“I wish Owen had wanted someone who could write a fucking poem,” Kauri says, voice breaking on the tears that threaten. “Maybe then I’d still be able to.” He pushes himself to his feet and stomps over to scoop up the notebook almost violently. “Why are you taking Playwriting, anyway? I thought you wanted to do set design.”

“I, I do.” Chris shrugs, eyes on Kauri, watching him walk back towards the doorway that leads to a hall and then to the kitchen. “But I thought-... I, I, I figured-... maybe if I learn how to, to write a play, it would help... visualize. For, for, for set-building. You, um. You know?”

Kauri exhales, slowly, and then nods. “Yeah. I get it. That’s a good plan - I mean, not that I would know, I’m a college fucking dropout, right?” He laughs, bitterness in every word, in every sound.

“No,” Chris replies, simply. “You, you were... abducted. We were, um. We, we, we were stolen. Your words were, um, were stolen, too. That’s what Dr. Berger-”

“Fuck Dr. Berger,” Kauri snaps, and leaves the room before Chris can make any more sense and possibly break apart Kauri’s determined self-loathing while he still wants to soak in it.

Hating himself for what he can’t do - or what he’s been told he can’t do - is so much easier than trying to do it anyway.

Everything was easier than trying to get better.

So why is he still trying?

Notebook clenched in white-knuckled hands, Kauri climbs the stairs like a man moving to the gallows, one by one, his thoughts a swirling morass of self-hatred, and then he moves into the bedroom he shares with Jake here and stares at the rumpled covers on the bed.

He sleeps here every single night, wakes up to the same face pressed red on one side from the pillow, hears the same deep voice rumbling good morning, feels the same arm slide over his waist, the same scratchy stubble rubbing his jaw when he’s kissed.

I have generally found, in my work, the fucking therapist’s voice echoes inside him, that when you begin to do the work to rebuild, you will find yourself dedicated over time to reconstructing not just a room, Kauri, but the entire city that was once leveled. Does that make sense?

He’d told her it didn’t.

Kauri spent years dodging therapy whenever Nat didn’t talk him into it, and he hates going. He hates having to spill all the darkness inside him to someone who never stops being so goddamn calm.

But the first time she’d said, have you ever heard about the effect that solitary confinement has on the human mind? He had told her he didn’t know, but he’d started crying, too, and hadn’t been able to explain why.

Part of you knows, Dr. Berger had said gently. Part of you always knew.

He had never really wanted to know the person who had inhabited this skin, or try to be him again. But standing here looking at the evidence of the life he is slowly building - his clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor by the bed, his toothbrush in the little cup in the bathroom, a picture of he and Jake in a frame by the bed now, the very small silver ring he wears sometimes even though they’re not and they probably won’t but it kind of feels good to wear it sometimes...

He wonders if Liam Harker wanted a life like this one.

---

“It’s really dumb,” Kauri mutters, pulling the pillow over his face, burning red with embarrassment. “I didn’t even really mean for you to see it-”

“It’s not dumb,” Jake says, gently. Kauri feels the dip in the mattress as he sits down, feels the warmth of his hand resting on Kauri’s thigh through the blanket. “I’m sorry I read it. I didn’t know what I was looking at. If it was supposed to be a secret-”

“No. I didn’t. I forgot I left it out on the dresser. It’s not your fault. It’s so fucking stupid. I don’t know why I even-”

“Kauri.” Jake’s voice sharpens, a little. “Stop. Stop calling yourself stupid. You’re not, and you never were, and you don’t have to repeat what that asshole told you about yourself anymore, remember?”

Kauri swallows, hard, a lump in his throat he can’t quite breathe around. “When does it stop being his voice,” He asks, muffled, “and start being my own?”

“When you let it,” Jake says, rubbing his leg soothingly. “Just like my dad’s voice. You’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. I’m sorry I read it, but that’s because it wasn’t mine to read, not because it was dumb, or bad. It wasn’t.”

Kauri hesitates, then pulls the pillow to the side, looking at the sincere affection in Jake’s face, his slight smile. “Yeah? You’re not just-”

“Saying that? No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not, like, a poetry person-”

“It’s not even a real villanelle, anyway.”

“I have no idea what that means. I just... I thought it was pretty good, actually. When I realized-... I put it down when I realized you were writing about-... you know. Yourself.”

“Liam,” Kauri says, hoarse, barely able to pronounce the name. “I wrote-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes his hand, pulls it to his lips, presses a kiss to Kauri’s knuckles. “I know. It’s really good, Kaur. You should keep writing. I promise I won’t look at any stray papers I find anymore, yeah?”

Kauri takes a breath. He feels almost dizzy, in a way that is both terrible and wonderful. The way you open yourself to the people you love is a horrible, amazing risk. The way you spill the darkest parts of yourself, not things you’ve done wrong but the things you are afraid of allowing back into the light, in case it washes them all away again.

But the light he lives in now isn’t cold, and it isn’t taking him away from himself. The light he lives in now is sunlight.

“What?” Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s that face for?”

“Jake. What if-... what if I ask you to? Read them?”

Jake’s lips press together, and he nods, smiling slightly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Kauri’s hand. He’s always warm, Jake, even on the coldest days. He’s always warm. “I’d be-... be fucking honored, or something that sounds less bullshit than that, but I mean it. I’d be... I love you, Kauri. Seeing inside your head is what I want to do for-... for forever.”

“Maybe I’ll ask then,” Kauri says, and pulls Jake’s hand and then Jake himself, the taller, larger man settling on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows, careful not to rest all his weight. “I love you, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jake kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Kauri’s eyes glimmer, but he closes them so Jake can’t see, and kisses his forehead. “It’s nice to think that I’m lucky and mean it.”

“I think you should read your poem to Dr. Berger,” Jake says, and when Kauri groans, he pulls back. “I mean it. She should know.”

Kauri wants to argue, but he looks into Jake’s eyes, and sighs, and says he’ll think about it.

---

AN APOLOGY

I am built from the hollow air left after your heart stopped beating

Your hands still gripped tight to the life they were ending

I know you thought of home but I don’t know where your home is

The sound of my voice is a green valley that only sends back screaming

Covered in smoke and dust that I told myself smelled like cologne

Pathways that remember your laughter silent in the years that followed

Have I done enough to build a life you would have enjoyed living?

I am built from the hollow air left over when your heart stopped beating

The heat of their hands as inevitable as a river tore down every foundation

Their cruelty buried you so deeply that only I remain

I don’t deserve the love that should have been yours to receive

The sound of my voice is a valley echoing back your screaming

I owe you an apology for walking around inside you

Crumbling ruins with my touch and calling it preservation

I’m sorry for every blade of grass growing through our bones

Am I nothing but hollow air from when your heart stopped beating?

Wildflowers grow inside me from soil windswept over ash

Is that life worth everything not quite dead so deep below?

Is Kauri Grant good enough to make up for Liam Harker’s loss?

In the valley of my body, does anyone but me still hear you screaming?

I owe you an apology and have to hope the life I live provides it

I wish I could ask for forgiveness from the shape of you

We’re both ghosts, in the end, mosaic pieces shattered in shadows

I’m sorry that I’m all that’s left.

I built myself from hollow air in the shape of a heart still beating

The sound of my voice will always carry the echo of yours screaming

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @orchidscript @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @moose-teeth @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

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screamingatanemptyroom · 3 years

Text

Please Fix the Story pt 23 - Sci Fi

Here is the next part! There is at least one more part in this world. Getting really close to the end!

Masterpost Linked Here

Enjoy!

_______________________

Life moved on, and despite the growing anxiety I had after my encounter with Chris, things moved smoothly. Chris had disappeared after that night, leaving his resignation from the academy laying on his desk. Liam was busy with wedding plans, occasionally checking in to make sure I was happy with his choices.

He was honestly much more thoughtful about it than I would have been, and I was happy to have his help. My father arranged his leave and was on his way. We also heard from Liam’s parents that they were going to arrive soon as well.

When Liam received the news, he became perfectly still for a few moments. I watched him, concerned at the obvious change.

“Liam, are you okay?”

“I – I don’t know.” His eyes were unfocused, as if staring off into space. “Why… are they coming?”

“Because they’re your parents? I doubt they would miss the wedding of a royal family member, no matter how bad your relationship is.”

“Parents… it’s… all wrong.” Liam seemed to be struggling against some invisible bind. His dark blue eyes flickered, and seemed to almost glow in the shadow of the resting area we sat it.

WARNING. World destabilization detected. Attempting forced conformity… Failure… host and partner soul strength too high.

Unable to see the bright blue words hanging in the air, Liam continued speaking.

“This… isn’t right. I don’t have family." His face was becoming more certain. “It’s not my fate. All I have is…” He glanced at me, his eyes filled with pain. “Bel..?”

WARNING! Stabilize world story immediately or face destruction and mission failure.

I reached out quickly, holding Liam’s hands in my own. “Liam, take a deep breath. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation.

“I know it seems wrong, but for now I need you to go with the idea of having parents and family.”

“But…?”

“Trust me. “

“Okay.” He leaned back, sighing. The glowing dark blue of his eyes faded, and he closed them for a brief moment, before seemingly returning back to normal. “I trust you.”

We don’t belong here.

The uncertainty in this world grew each day. Liam, whoever Chris had become… me… we weren’t from this world. But if we deviated to much, the world could destabilize, and I could fail the mission.

I just needed to keep my head down, blend in and complete the mission.

Try not to rebel too much against the role I’d been given in this world, except the ending.

Simple, right?

_______________________

…

“We’ve talked the last few hours about our lists, now it’s your turn! What do you miss most about Chris, Alaira?”

Maybe world destabilization, mission failure and soul destruction aren’t that bad after all.

I stared at the group of young women in front me, wondering for the hundredth time in the past hour how I had been roped into this... harem support group?

Allie, Ilene and Wen stared back at me, waiting for me to answer.

“I… miss kicking his butt in mock Mech battles?” I winced as I spoke, realizing they would probably take offense at that, but to my surprise they all smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, you were a very important rival to Chris.” Ilene patted me on the back.

Allie spoke up, “He was always talking about how he wanted to beat you and have you accept him as a fellow Guardian. “

“Yeah… he… I…” Wen started to chime in, but then her face crumpled as she sobbed into her hands. “What are we supposed to do now that he’s gone?! What am I supposed to do without him?! What if he never comes back?!”

“I miss him!”

“Me too!”

Soon all three girls were crying, leaving me in uncomfortable silence in the corner.

Blend in, don’t make waves, don’t try to change things….

“I can’t live without him!” Ilene’s dramatic cry broke something within me.

SCREW THIS!

“OKAY GUYS, SHUT UP!” I stood up, placing my hands on my hips as I stared at them. “You are a group of highly intelligent, talented women in the most competitive military academy in the known universe! And you’re nothing without some guy?”

“He’s not just some….” Wen started to interrupt, but was shushed by me.

“No. No matter how much you care for him. He is a guy, and you are all your own person. You have talents, dreams and stories beyond his existence.” I turned to petite girl beside me first. “You! Wen, you’re one of the top engineering students in the program! With your skills, it would be a cinch to improve upon the current Mech design!” After all, she had ramped up Chris’s Mech in the story, surely she could do the same without him!

“And you!” I pointed at Allie. “You’re a Guardian! You're a level B one at that! That's an even higher level than Chris!”

“But I don’t have his drive…”

“You can have his drive! You can have more than his drive! He spent half his time complaining about how people didn’t take him seriously or how people were trying to force him to be a Connector. You can be TEN TIMES the Guardian Chris was!”

I ignored her startled sputterings and turned towards the dark haired girl on the other side. “And you… Ilene.”

She stared at me warily. “What about me?”

“You’re a freaking Princess! And a super talented Connector! How can that become nothing if Chris isn’t around?”

“…I thought you didn’t like me?”

“I don’t.” I answered bluntly. “You treat your brother like trash, and that’s enough for me to want to kick your teeth in.” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “That being said, just because I hate you doesn’t mean I don’t respect you as a talented Connector. You just have a crappy personality.”

“Um… Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” I opened my arms. “You three have top-notch talent all gathered here in one room. What do you need Chris for?! You could be a force to be reckoned with!”

Wen jumped to her feet. “You’re right! I should design a Mech, one stronger than anyone’s ever seen.!”

“Yes!” I pumped a hand in the air.

“And I’ll fly it! I’ll terrorize the Hive until they go running back to their home planet!” Allie stood up as well.

“You’ve got it!”

Ilene joined in. “If I remember, Allie, you and I have a decent resonance match. How about we partner up?”

“Let’s do it!”

The girls high-fived each other while I watched approvingly.

“Let’s destroy the hIve!

“We’ll save humanity!”

‘...And then we’ll find Chris!”

I groaned.

They were so close… but I guess this is better than nothing.

The girls plotted the formation of a new team, surprisingly accepting the team name “Harem” (my suggestion). As they filed out, chattering excitedly, I prepared to escape this mentally exhausting group.

“Alaira, wait.” Princess Ilene stopped me before I could walk out the door.

“What is it?” I kept a neutral expression. I hadn’t been joking when I said I didn’t like her.

She hesitated. “Are you really marrying my brother?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

“…No… it’s just…” She rubbed her face. “He’s… different. And I feel like you should know. “

Sitting back down, I crossed my legs and prepared to listen.

“Since he met you… William is a different person. He’s kinder… gentler… even goes by a different name. He’s never gone by Liam.”

That caught my attention “What was he like before?”

“Angry. Vicious. Hurt people just to watch them suffer.” Her face was blank, as if remembering things she didn’t want to. “He was so mad at the world for not allowing him to match, he spent all his time plotting to take down talented people who could.”

A villain. Was that who he was before Liam stepped in? Like how Alaira was before I took over? Or Chris before… whoever it was… took his body?

“I’m not pretending that I’m perfect, either. You’re right, I treated my brother like garbage, instead of trying to help him. I thought he was a monster. Honestly, I thought his hanging around you was some new scheme…. I was kind of hoping he would take you out so your couldn’t bother Chris…”

“So nice of you.” My tone was sarcastic

“At least I’m honest. Anyways, this doesn’t appear to be some trick… I think he’s changed… he actually seems to care about you. But I thought you should know who he was before he met you.”

“Thanks.” My tone was slightly better than before. “Don’t worry, I know exactly who I’m marrying.”

Liam. Not your villain brother.

“Good Luck.” Ilene seemed relieved, as if a burden was off of her shoulders with the confession, and hurried out.

I stood in the room alone silently for a few moments, processing.

There’s too many questions, and no answers in sight.

I left to find Liam. I missed him.

_______________________

I arrived just in time to see Liam and Alaira’s father facing off.

“She is my precious daughter.” The tall middle aged man with close cropped hair and a scowl made scarier by the scar running from his left eye to the corner of his mouth, towered over Liam. His disapproving air was evident.

“Yes.” Liam smiled and nodded, seemingly fearless.

“No man deserves to marry her.”

“Agreed.”

“So who do you think you are?” General Gladus poked Liam’s chest with a finger.

“The luckiest man alive to be able to stand in the same room as Alaira, much less stay by her side all my life.” He held out a plate in front of the angry man. “Cookies?”

“Well, you should know I don’t approve of this fast courtship…” He picked up one of the cookies and bit into it angrily. “You both are so young…” He took another bite. “And I don’t want you to hold her back…”

“I completely agree. I will do my best to support all her goals in life.” Liam handed the general another cookie as he finished the first.

“Good…” He chewed slower. “Is this chocolate? How did you get it so soft but chewy at the same time?”

“I developed the recipe. Would you like more?”

He picked up another one. “Just know this doesn’t mean I fully approve of you.”

“Of course not… Would you like some cake…”

“….”

“I also have homemade hot chocolate.”

“… As long as she likes you, I guess.” He finally muttered, his hands full of baked treats and dessert drinks.

Liam overwhelmed him with support spouse abilities. I laughed in the doorway, attracting the attention of both men.

“Anything for me?”

Liam nodded with a bright smile. “I saved you a plate.”

General Gladus cleared his throat as he saw the large platter filled with cookies.

“Don’t worry, Sir, I saved an extra plate for you.”

“… Don’t think you can bribe me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So I can have your plate, then?”

“The hardened general clutched the plate of cookies to his chest. “Don’t you dare! The boy made them for me out of respect for his future father-in-law!”

“…” Liam and I smiled at each other.

“How is the front line… Dad?” The title felt a little rough as I spoke it. I was still acutely aware that he was Alaira’s father, not mine.

“Stable, for now.” He frowned. “Fortunately we have an elaborate defense system, to give plenty of warning. But they’ve been retreating more and more lately. The higher ups seem to think that they might be admitting defeat, but I just don’t think so. I think they’re preparing for something… big.”

He’s right.

I knew the ending of the original story. Around the time Alaira was supposed to graduate, they had attacked in the largest numbers ever seen, necessitating all senior students being recruited to help fight. Even Alaira, who was without a Connector and would have normally been left behind was brought in. They couldn’t afford to leave any powerful guardian out.

I still have a little more time, though. I can train with Liam, maybe get Wen to help upgrade our Mechs, train up some of the students… We can have a chance to really face off against the attack.

There’s still time…

“Don’t let down your guard. You’re the best general we’ve got.” I patted Alaira’s father on the shoulder.

He crushed me in a big hug. “Don’t worry, your dad will protect the galaxy! You just get married in peace.” He leaned in and whispered. “See if he can make a few more of those chocolate cookies, okay?”

“I will, Dad.” It came much more naturally this time.

I’ll protect you too. I added silently.

_______________________

As the wedding drew closer, we were notified that the king and queen were on their way. Liam ignored the news, continuing to work on seating charts and music for the ceremony.

“We have to welcome them when they arrive. They are due any minute.” I finally spoke up, slightly exasperated with his head-in-the-sand act.

“…If we have to.” His voice was cold, his dark blue eyes flickering between fear and annoyance.

I held his hand. “Don’t worry. No matter who they think you are, or what they say about you, just know that you’re my future husband. Don’t worry about anything else.”

He reached out, pulling me tightly against him. “ Thank you.”

“Just play along with them. I held his face between my hands. “You’re Liam. Not Prince William. Not their son. Not Ilene’s brother. Liam.”

WARNING. DIRECTLY CONTRADICTING STORYLINES IS FORBIDDEN.

Liam tilted his head and studied me with a worried expression. “… Are you okay?”

“Just follow my lead. Please.” I looked away from the bright blue words in annoyance and moved.

We went to meet the Royal Family, each of us nervous for different reasons.

The King and Queen looked slightly like Liam and Ilene. The king had curly dark hair, severe features, made worse by the frown as he studied Liam. The Queen had the dark blue eyes that both siblings had, and a beautiful, delicate face… but the overall sense was ruined by the terrified light in her eyes as she almost hid behind her husband.

“So this is the girl you tricked into marrying you?” The king looked at me with morbid curiosity.

Liam took a deep breath. “This is Alaira, Grade S Guardian, my resonance partner and my future wife…”

“What game are you playing, William?” His father snapped, interrupting him. “If this is some ploy to ruin General Gladus, you should stop now.”

“This isn’t…”

“You should stop this now.” The Queen squeaked out nervously at me from behind the King. “He might be my son, but you can’t trust him…”

“…”

“This wedding is a farce.” The king snapped finally. “He’s a monster.”

_______________________

“Why did you follow me?” the mournful voice called out as I entered the dark room.

“Do you want me to leave?” I looked up at the large dark blue eyes curiously, barely able to make out the large form in the darkness.

“I didn’t want you to see… didn’t want you to know…”

“Know what?”

“That I’m a monster.” The whisper was filled with so much pain it made me cry.

_______________________

BAM!

Before I fully came out of the memory, I had punched the King.

“…”

There was a moment of stunned silence from everyone present.

“You dare…!” The King finally spoke up, rubbing his red cheek with a furious expression. “I can have you executed!”

“Just try, Barry.” General Gladus walked in, his hand holding a drawn weapon. “I’ll shoot you in your precious Royal Ass, and then what are you going to lounge on while I fight your wars for you?”

"..."

The room processed his words in silence for a moment, before the king burst out angrily.

“Gladus, are you threatening me?!!”

“Oh shut up Barry. " He waved dismissively with his gun. "It wouldn’t even be the first time I’ve shot you. Probably won't be the last." You won’t arrest me, you need me to protect your country.”

“You are willing to let your precious daughter marry this… this… “ The king trailed off, glaring at Liam, who stared calmly back.

“Yes.” General Gladus shrugged “I heard the rumors. Even with the 100% match I wasn’t about to let him hurt my daughter.”

“Then why…?”

“I’ve sat down with your son, Barry. I shook his hand, looked him in the eye. I asked him the hard questions. I’ve observed him around Alaira.” The General stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I know a good man when I see one. And I see one. One who loves my daughter. Maybe you should try looking closer.”

“But he…”

“Plus he makes delicious cookies.” He muttered.

“…He what?”

I stepped forward, blocking Liam behind me. “He’s not a monster. He’s my future husband. I honestly do not care about your opinion. But if you want to try to hurt him, just know… you won’t have to wait for my father to shoot you. I’ll do it first.”

“… Control your child, Gladus.”

“She even threatens you just like me!” He reached out and placed an arm around my shoulders. “So proud.”

“…Fine. “ The King frowned “I won’t try to save you from yourself. Marry him, if you want.”

“I plan to.”

“Whatever you’re plotting, William, you better stop now.” He glared. “You might have fooled them, but you won’t fool me.”

“I don’t have to fool you.” Liam’s eyes were dark. “You mean nothing to me.”

“I’m your father.”

“I have no family. I… I can never have family.” Liam turned away.

“William…” The Queen called out softly.

“I AM NOT William.”

WARNING. World Destabilization detected!

“Come on, Liam. Let’s go.” I grabbed his hand and walked away, calling over my shoulder as we left. “You’re free to attend the wedding, but stay away from us otherwise.”

“You’ll regret this!”

I laughed at his bitter words. “Enjoy the disappointment.”

Liam and I left.

_______________________

We sat in my room, and as soon as my hand left his, he curled up, holding his arms over his head.

“I don’t feel right.”

“Liam.” I reached out and touched his back, feeling him trembling beneath me.

“Who am I? I don’t think I’m William. The things they said… the things William has done… He’s not me.”

Warning!

"He's not me... he can't be... He's not..."

WARNING! World destabilization... Bright blue words and a mechanical voice appeared again.

“SHUT UP!” I yelled, drowning out the voice. I pulled his arms down, looking straight into his dark blue eyes. “You are Liam. And you’re my partner. And tomorrow you’ll be my husband. Nothing else matters..”

“But…”

“I can’t explain things right now. I don’t even know everything right now. But I know there’s a reason we’re here together. I’ve found you, and I won’t leave you.”

He held me close, both of us kneeling on the floor. He was clutching me as if I was the only thing anchoring him. I felt lost myself. I was frustrated at my lack of answers, angry at the pain Liam was experiencing, afraid for the future ahead of us.

“Alaira… no… Bel?” He whispered. “... I love you.”

I smiled at the unfamiliar but familiar name, pressing my face against his shoulder. “I love you too, Liam.”

“Marry me tomorrow.”

“Definitely.”

“Don’t leave me behind… please.”

“I won't... No matter what.”

A long silence fell between us. Finally Liam sat back, his face slightly red. “I wish we were getting married tonight. I can’t help but feel something terrible is going to happen to prevent our wedding.”

Foreshadowing.

Ignoring the ominous word that appeared in my subconscious, I smiled reassuringly. “Nothing is going to happen…”

“ALERT! CODE LEVEL RED. PLEASE REPORT TO EMERGENCY STATIONS. ALERT!”

I sighed. “I take that back.”

We headed to the Command Level in the main Academy.

_______________________

“Dad, what’s going on?” I called out as we passed the main doors.

“Alaira…” General Gladus’ face was uncharacteristically serious. “It’s not good.”

I stood beside him, looking up at the large holographic display at the center of the command room, feeling the blood drain from my face. “The Hive.”

“They’re past our defense systems.” He slammed his fist against the table. “This doesn’t make any sense! How did an army this huge get past us without starting any alarms!”

I stared at the countless red dots on the screen, feeling lost.

This isn’t right. In the story I should have had YEARS before the Hive attacked in such large numbers. Even then they were caught immediately in the defense systems and gave the military time to prepare. How could they get past us… unless…

“Chris.”

He said he was going to end everything. Is this what he meant?

Alaira’s father was confused. “That male student who disappeared? How would he have access to defense system information?”

Chris wouldn’t… but whoever was controlling Chris might have more information.

I let it go for now. “What do we do?”

“There’s too many… and they’re headed for a defenseless planet in this system.” He hung his head. “I don’t have the manpower to defend it.”

I stepped forward, giving him a grim smile. “You’re not alone, Dad. I’ll help.”

“We! We’ll help.” Liam stood beside me. “We’re a powerful combo. You can’t afford to turn us down.”

General Gladus sighed. “Even if I recruit top senior students from the academy… the numbers we have… it’s a suicide mission.”

Warning! Mission Failure Imminent!

Your mission: Prevent destruction of the human race by the alien monster race known as The Hive.

The Hive are now attacking in large numbers. Your estimated chance of success against them in battle is 0%.

“If you’re not gonna say anything helpful, then shut up.” I growled quietly.

Liam turned towards me. “Are you okay?”

If you fail your mission, you will face soul destruction.

“It’s not like I’m swimming in options.”

You have one option.

“Who are you talking to?”

“What is it?” I whispered, holding Liam’s hand and squeezing it. I have to save him.

...

ACCEPT YOUR FATE.

...

I stared at the blue words silently for a few minutes. “Liam, what if I said we have an 100% chance of dying if we went on this mission…”

“You don’t know that…”

“...and I had a fool proof way to protect you… But we would be separated forever?”

I didn’t know what my fate was. But I did know in the deepest part of my soul one thing:

Liam was not my fate.

“I don’t plan to survive this, Liam… but if I could save you…”

“I would rather die by your side.” He didn’t hesitate.

“But…”

He grabbed my other hand, holding them both tightly. “We’ll face this together.”

_______________________

“It’s hopeless.” I whispered, holding him tightly. “What if fate is stronger than us?”

“I don’t need hope, Bel.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my neck. “If fate is going to separate us, then we’ll destroy it.”

“Together.”

“Always.”

_______________________

I looked at the hologram, at the countless numbers of enemies that awaited us, and leaned against him with a sigh.

“Together.”

He smiled in return.

“Always.”

#writing #please fix the story #fantasy #world hopping #amnesia #the world is breaking #Getting close to the end.

169 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 4 years

Text

None Of Your Concern (Chris Evans x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON(NON-CON?), AGE GAP, CHEATING(?)

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: costars for a little over a year, Chris has always been protective of you in the cutthroat industry much like a father would be. However, when he learns that your boyfriend is even older than him, he realizes that his feelings might not be so familial after all

“Okay, so it’s sort of cool that a small chunk of the Avengers gang is reunited for this movie,” the interviewer said with a chuckle.

You all joined in, in agreement. She rested her blue eyes on you.

“I know that you were a huge fan of the franchise, Y/N. I mean, over the years there have been quite a few tweets from you about the movies, ranging from…‘Spider-Man’s on team Iron-Man so therefore I am on team Iron-Man’ to ‘Scott Lang deserves the world’,” she said, reading from her phone.

Tom got a huge kick out of that first one, and you rolled your eyes. The interviewer’s eyes flickered between you two, a small smile on her lips.

“I mean, am I wrong? Does Scott Lang not deserve the world?”

She nodded with a grin.

“No, you’re right, he definitely does! I just feel like being cast in this movie and having been on the set for a little over a year must have been something like a dream come true,” she pressed.

You thought about your answer for a moment, just like your publicist advised.

“Yeah, you could say that. It’s sort of surreal going from having been kind of a casual fan of someone to interacting with them almost every day for a year,” you honestly answered.

You didn’t know if you would ever get used to interviews, no matter how private they were. You were grateful you weren’t on Jimmy Fallon or something with a live audience watching your every move, but sitting next to Tom, Anthony, Sebastian, Chris, and Tessa in a room was almost just as bad in your eyes.

“…and you’ve gotten super close with your castmates, I’d say.”

You heard Tessa clear her throat, and when you caught her eye, she gave you a look, but you didn’t understand it.

“Yeah, definitely! I love them all and they’ve easily become some of my closest friends now,” you replied, eyes meeting the interviewer’s again.

She threw you a secretive smile.

“…but you and Tom seem to hang out together more than the rest of the cast. As thick as thieves some would say,” she pressed.

Your lips parted, caught off guard, and when you caught Tessa’s eye again, you recognized the sympathetic look she was giving you. A light bulb seemed to go off in your head as you realized what she was trying to warn you against earlier, the very thing you’d unknowingly walked into. Luckily, Tom jumped in before you did.

“Well,” he started, straightening in his seat, shoulder brushing your own. “Y/N and I are the youngest members of the main cast. We don’t really have much in common with the senior citizens to my left.”

He feigned a whisper during the last part, not so discreetly pointing to his left. It had the desired effect, and you were grateful that he was trying to draw the attention away from you.

“Um,” Tessa loudly began, straightening up in her seat just as Anthony, Chris, and Sebastian all spoke up at once.

“I think what he means to say is we don’t allow the children to eat at the adult’s table,” Anthony threw in.

“Yeah, its definitely more like we exclude them, and they have no choice but to hang out together,” Sebastian joked.

“Senior citizens,” Chris scoffed, cutting his eyes at Tom.

The interviewer laughed at the turn of events, but unfortunately, she was determined to expose whatever she thought was going on between you and Tom.

“So you two are rather close then? Being alienated and all,” she chuckled.

Tom laughed, albeit a bit uncomfortably as it became clear that she wasn’t going to give up. He nudged you, gesturing for you to take the stand, having already tried to steer her in another direction.

“Well…yes, but we’re all rather close, but yeah. I would say that Tom is kind of like my best friend,” you honestly told her.

She aw’d at that, tilting her head to the side. You cut your eyes to everyone else in the room, narrowing them as it became clear that they weren’t going to help the two of you get out of this. You just knew Anthony was enjoying this…

“Just friends then? Because you two have a lot of fans, and a lot of them seem to think there’s more to the friendship, or at least, they hope there is, and honestly? Who can blame them? You two are always spotted hanging out together, going for coffee, running to Target… You’re practically joined at the hip.”

As she came outright and said it, you both wasted no time in refuting it.

“Oh, God no,” you cried, shaking your head.

“No, no, absolutely not,” Tom laughed. “Y/N and I are simply good friends. She has much better taste than I do, hence why I have to drag her to Target. Besides, we don’t have Target back home, so whenever I’m in the states, I’m going shopping there every chance I get.”

“I don’t know, I think they answered that just a little too quickly for me,” Tessa suddenly wondered aloud.

You threw her a look of betrayal as Chris added on.

“Yeah, that…that wasn’t convincing, at all,” he said in between chuckles.

You gaped at him as Tom ran his hand through his hair.

“No, Y/N and I are just friends, and nothing more. She-she has a boyfriend, anyway,” he threw out, and you playfully hit his arm.

“Tom,” you warned.

You weren’t genuinely upset that he’d let that slip, especially since you didn’t exactly care if people knew. People knowing you had a boyfriend wasn’t the cause of your apprehension. It came from certain details about your boyfriend…

“Wait, you have a boyfriend?”

Four people said several variations of this at the same time, and you cringed. Tom at least looked a bit ashamed as the interviewer watch on in amusement.

“I didn’t say any names,” he defended, hands up.

You caught Anthony’s eye and he was looking at you like you’d just hid the world’s biggest secret. Tessa looked scandalized as well, and you didn’t dare look at Chris and Sebastian.

“Wait…wait a minute,” the interviewer said, sitting up in her own chair as she looked at you two.

There was a slow smirk forming on her lips.

“So…you have a boyfriend that nobody else seems to know about…except for Tom…”

You both froze, realizing how this looked. A few chuckles reached your ears, and you exhaled.

“Okay, I know how this looks…”

“It isn’t like that, at all,” Tom reiterated. “He’s a swell chap, no, really. He’s brilliant-.”

“You’ve met him then?”

“Well, yeah-.”

“Wait, wait, wait. So how come you’ve met this ‘boyfriend’ and none of us have?” Anthony wondered.

“Yeah, this sounds like a bit of a cover,” the interviewer added.

“Not a very convincing one,” Sebastian whispered.

“Okay, okay! I know that I’m not super talkative about it, but have we all forgotten that I have a girlfriend?”

That seemed to quiet everyone down.

“…besides, her boyfriend is like forty anyway, so its definitely not me,” he laughed, realizing too late what he’d said.

“Tom!” you cried.

Both of his hands were covering his mouth, eyes wide as all hell broke loose. You blinked several times, mouth agape in shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tessa yelled over the others.

“Forty?”

Sebastian, Chris, and Anthony were all talking over each other, all of their questions directed at you while you just stared at Tom who stared back, pleading. He slid his hands down, teeth bared as shame filled his features, cringing.

“I’m so, so, so sorry…”

His apology was overshadowed by Sebastian.

“Forty?” he repeated.

“Tom’s exaggerating, okay? He’s more like thirty,” you quickly said, trying to ease the tension and make light of the situation.

Tom’s eyes were wide as they met yours, and you quickly looked away.

“So, the boyfriend isn’t Tom…and he’s only thirty then?” the interviewer finally spoke up when the room was finally quiet once again.

You sighed, eyes meeting Tom’s again as he looked to see what you were going to do. You thought about what your publicist would advise. You’d been a part of stan twitter once. You knew how the internet could be. They’d dig until they found out the truth, and discovering his actual age, and identity by extension, would be pretty bad for both of you. Against your better judgement, you decided to be truthful since the cat was out of the bag, hoping it’d be enough to keep people’s curiosity at bay.

“No, he’s definitely 43,” you quietly admitted.

Once again, all hell broke loose.

As soon as the interview was over, you were the first one out of the room, Tom right behind you. You could hear your name being called, and Tom pushed you along.

“Go, go, go,” he urged.

You had just made it to your dressing room when a muscular arm slid between the door and the frame as you attempted to close it.

“Anthony, not now!”

“No, no, now.”

He pushed the door open, and you denied him entrance, two familiar faces behind him. Neither him, Sebastian, or Chris looked pleased with you, and you just knew that they weren’t going to let this go…not without a fight. Tessa passed by, and you sent her a pleading look.

She heaved a sigh, slowing down before reaching out to pull them all back.

“C’mon guys. Leave the poor girl alone,” she said.

“We just want to talk,” Sebastian said.

It was a lie.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” you told them, eyes meeting Chris’. “Any of you.”

You tried to ignore his frown as you closed and locked the door. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your phone. You texted Alex, your boyfriend, warning him of what might make it into the article. You weren’t actually upset about the turn of events, you just hated the aftermath that would ensue.

You blamed the interviewer most of all. You knew that Tom was just trying to clear the air and make it known that there wasn’t anything going on between you two. You knew how flustered he could get sometimes when he started rambling, and you also texted him to let him know that everything was fine, and you weren’t mad.

Your main concern was the trio down the hall. Tessa felt like an older sister at times, and while you wish that it had been on your terms, you weren’t opposed to talking to her about this. You knew the conversation was going to happen eventually. Anthony, Sebastian, and Chris on the other hand were a completely different matter.

You stuck your head out, glancing around before leaving the room.

Your friendship with Seb was way more casual than with the other two. You cracked jokes and hung out with all of them often, but half the time it felt like Chris and Anthony were scolding you and telling you what you could or couldn’t do. Sebastian didn’t care, and you liked that. Hence why you didn’t verbally oppose when he suddenly came out of nowhere, easily falling into stride with you.

He didn’t say anything for a while, but you knew it was coming. You bit your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing that he was doing the same. He abruptly stopped, and so did you.

“Forty-three?”

You avoided his piercing gaze, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as he faced you.

“Seb…please…”

“I mean, I’m not judging, I promise,” he said, hands raised.

“Except, you are though,” you sighed, looking at him. “You’re judging, just a little bit.”

His arms fell at his sides.

“Okay, so I’m judging just a little bit, but can you blame me? The guy’s older than Anthony,” he scoffed.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t care,” you told him.

“Clearly. I’m just saying, he’s old enough to be your father,” he said.

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s not, because then that would be weird,” you threw at him, rolling your eyes.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and somehow, you got the feeling that he’d drawn the short straw on who was going to come and talk sense into you. You briefly glanced down the hall, brows furrowed. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hated how he was looking at you. Like you were a child doing something bad. Your jaw clenched.

“I know you’re an adult…”

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“Do you know who you sound like, right now?”

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“At the risk of sounding like Chris…”

“You sound like Chris, that’s who you sound like.”

“…this industry can be…ruthless,” he continued.

“Don’t I know it?” you sarcastically replied.

“…and you’re still so fresh and new and there are plenty of people just looking to take advantage of someone like you and your talent and potential…”

“My boyfriend isn’t one of them, okay? He has plenty of talent on his own,” you informed him.

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“What his name, anyway?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you slowly sang.

“Well…what does he do?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“How did you meet? How long have you been seeing him? Something, anything! Anything at all?”

You pursed your lips before releasing a soft sigh.

“We’ve been seeing each other for about 7 months now,” you admitted.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head, lips parting.

“7 months?”

You pulled away from him, the day finally getting to you.

“Look, Seb, I have to go. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you guys, but to be honest, this was the main reason why, so…”

You paused, facing him again.

“Please, tell Chris and Anthony not to worry, okay? I know they’re freaking the fuck out and probably sent you on their behalf. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder as you exited the building.

When you got home, there was a slew of text messages awaiting you. Most were from Anthony, and you answered all of them as best as you could. He was just worried, and you definitely understood that, but he was freaking out more than your own mother had when you told her about Alex.

“It just…took me by surprise,” was the first thing he said when he picked up the phone.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, browsing your fridge for something to eat. “I was always going to tell you guys if it ever got more serious.”

“More serious?” he scoffed. “Seb said you guys have been dating for 7 months.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We clearly have different definitions of a serious relationship,” you mumbled.

“It’s just concerning, alright? If my kid was dating someone 20 years older than them, I’d be rightfully concerned,” he defended. “Especially considering I’ve never met this man and don’t know anything about him.”

“Look at the word you just used: kid. That is something I am not,” you said, slamming your fridge shut. “…and there’s no need to meet him.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s fine,” you tersely replied.

You heard him exhale on the other end, a tense silence falling between you two. You were being a little harsh, you knew that, especially considering Anthony always treated you like family, but you needed to make him, all of them, understand that you were an adult who could make her own decisions. They had no say in this.

“…you heard from Chris?” he eventually asked.

“No, actually, and that’s a little worrisome, I’m not going to lie,” you honestly added, running your eyes over your wine collection.

“Yeah, well, he’s not happy,” Anthony told you.

“If he’s going to pout about this like my personal dating choices offended him or something, then he can suck my ass.”

A laugh met you from the other end, a genuine laugh, and you cracked a smile.

“He’ll come around. You know how much you mean to him,” he finally said after he calmed down.

You did know. Chris was one of the first people to talk to you on set, trying to make you feel more comfortable. It was your first big movie, your first time starring with household names, with people that had way more experience than you. He got you to laugh on your first day and even dragged you over to meet everyone else. He’d taken you under his wing…

Your heart clenched as you thought about how he must feel. It was your business, sure, but you couldn’t pretend like you didn’t feel guilty. You felt even worse once you thought about the fact that you’d told Tom and not him, but Tom didn’t judge you. Tom didn’t treat you like some kid who didn’t know any better half the time.

“I’ll text him,” you told Anthony. “See if I can get him to accept my white flag…”

“You do that. See you tomorrow, kiddo.”

You texted Chris as soon as you hung up, and as the night wore on, your worry grew. You found yourself periodically checking your phone for any type of response, but you got nothing. Alex called though and talked with you until you fell asleep. He was overseas, filming in his home country at the moment, but he called you every day.

He wasn’t bothered at all by what might be in the article, only making sure that you were okay.

“Yeah…I’m okay,” you quietly replied.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound it,” he quietly replied, deep voice gruff.

You frowned before turning to look at your clock.

“Isn’t it like…3 in the morning over there?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he lightly said, ignoring your own.

You sighed.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just…there was a reason I didn’t want to tell everyone, and some people are proving me right…”

“They’ll come around,” he assured.

“You know Seb isn’t the type to care too much, but even he was more judgmental than I expected. Anthony is slowly coming around, but Chris… He’s not answering any of my texts.”

He was quiet for a while before finally responding.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You frowned again, sitting up in bed.

“What do you mean?”

“He is a bit…overprotective of you, isn’t he? I know he just gets concerned, but sometimes he acts like he’s your father and…he’s not. He shouldn’t have any say in what you do,” he elaborated.

You rubbed your eyes.

“I know what you’re saying is true because I’ve thought it myself, but for some reason it sounds harsh coming from your lips,” you groaned.

He chuckled.

“I don’t mean for it to, I promise. I just mean that maybe this will force him to lighten up a bit and realize that there are boundaries and lines he shouldn’t cross…”

You blinked.

“Huh. You might be onto something,” you admitted. “I know he thinks I’m such a child sometimes. Maybe this will make him wake up.”

You didn’t stay on the phone for much longer, and your heart sank when you hung up only to see no new notifications. Was Chris ignoring you? With a huff, you plugged your phone up and settled into bed.

You sipped on the coffee Tom had gotten you on the way here, leaning against the wall as you watched Chris and Anthony talk to the interviewer. This one preferred to talk to a few of you at a time, and considering the disaster that happened a week ago, you quite liked that.

That pushy girl had indeed included the bit about your love life in the article. Fortunately, it was tastefully done, only mentioning it in passing, but she had included that the rest of the cast, sans Tom, had been none the wiser. You hadn’t checked to see what people were saying about it. It wasn’t their opinions that mattered to you.

Chris hadn’t talked to you since, ignoring every one of your messages. Eventually, you gave up, deciding that he’d talk to you whenever he was ready. At first you were angry once you realized what he was doing, but eventually you became more understanding. He was probably more hurt than anything that you hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him.

You perked up when you heard the mention of your name.

“So, word on the street is that Y/N does indeed have a beau and it’s not Tom Holland…” he started.

Chris and Anthony chuckled, but you could tell it was forced.

“Yeah, man, I don’t think anyone was more shocked about that one than their fans,” he laughed. “…but we all know they’re just good friends. It was a nice running joke for a while though.”

Chris didn’t say anything, and the interviewer continued.

“Speaking of shocked, is it true that the rest of you guys were completely in the dark about it? I read that the ball was actually dropped during the interview. I mean, how awkward that must’ve been…”

Chris exhaled.

“Yeah…it was definitely something. It made my day though.”

Your jaw ticked as you realized that he was putting on a front.

“…and is it true that he’s 43? I mean, I’ll definitely ask Y/N this later on-.”

“Then it’d probably be best if she answered that,” Anthony interrupted, and you mentally thanked him.

“Well…the secret’s out, right?” Chris laughed, and you frowned. “Yeah, she says he’s 43.”

Your frown deepened.

“That’d be like dating one of you guys, I’d imagine, but at least it’ll be easy for him to get on well with you guys. You all are rather close with Y/N, so that must be of some importance to her,” the interviewer replied.

“I don’t know about that one considering we found out with the rest of the world,” Chris joked, but you saw right through it. “I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t know though because…”

He suddenly trailed off, letting out a low ‘whew’. He shook his head.

“No. I never would have allowed it.”

Your jaw dropped, staring at him like he’d grown a second head as the words registered within your mind. You didn’t even hear the rest of what was said as you backed up. You almost bumped into Tessa, and she steadied you.

“Woah,” she said. “You okay?”

“No, actually,” you slowly replied, turning to face her. “I’m not.”

You found that it was true. Your stomach churned and you felt like you were going to vomit any moment. The audacity of him!

“I…I have to go,” you told her.

You let your publicist know that you were feeling ill, and you waved bye to Tom on the way out, his brows furrowed in confusion as he hesitantly waved back. You fought tears the entire way to your apartment, shaking your head in disbelief. Never mind the fact that Chris has said that, but the fact that he’d confidently said it in front of other people.

“Never would have allowed it?” you mumbled to yourself.

You were gripping the wheel so hard you were sure it would break. As you furiously got out of your car, you thought to yourself that you didn’t even care if he texted you back or not. You weren’t in the mood to even look at his face, let alone talk to him.

After you showered and poured yourself a glass of wine, you curled up on your couch, staring at the tv…but not watching it. Chris’ words kept replaying, and you wondered how he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. He wasn’t your father! There wasn’t a damn thing in the world he could forbid you to do.

And before you knew it, you had downed two more glasses and that was exactly what you were texting him. You were certain your thumbs would crack the screen with how furiously you were typing. When you were done, you turned your phone off, slamming it on the table as you returned your gaze to the tv.

It was hours later when you heard a knock on your door. You briefly wondered who it was, but you had suspicions that it was probably Tom. You’d left in such a hurry, and your phone was off, so he was probably coming to check on you. With a buzz coursing through your veins, you pulled the door open, only for your face to drop when your eyes connected with blue ones…not brown.

He didn’t exactly look thrilled to see you either, and you were certain that your face was no different. You pursed your lips, going through a pros and cons checklist of letting him in before scoffing. You swung the door open wider before turning your back on him. You heard him close it, his feet following yours into the kitchen.

You didn’t spare him a glance as you poured yourself another glass, taking up residence on the other side of the small island. Eventually, when he didn’t say anything, you looked up at him, a frown on your face.

“Are you actually going to say something? Or just stand there and stare at me?”

Chris heaved a sigh, resting one hand on the counter while the other found a home on his hip. He stared you down, jaw ticking beneath his beard.

“You’re upset with me…”

“I wonder what makes you think that?” you mumbled into your glass.

“…but I’m upset with you too.”

“Yeah, well, at least my anger is valid,” you spat.

“…and mine isn’t?” he threw back.

You huffed, glancing away from him.

“If you’re upset that I didn’t tell you, then I’m sorry. I mean that. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything, but you have to understand why I didn’t say anything. Look at how you’re reacting,” you said, gesturing to him.

His nostrils flared.

“What does a man like that have in common with someone like you anyway?”

You jutted out your hip, resting your hand on it as you stared him down.

“Someone could easily ask you the same thing. What, I can be friends with you, Anthony, and Sebastian despite the age difference, but I can’t date someone who’s the same age as you?”

“It’s a bit different. We are your friends, we look out for you, we are not trying to…”

He swallowed his words, seeming like he couldn’t even bear to say it. You smirked at him.

“So I can choose my friends, but I can’t choose who I fuck?”

He glared at you.

“I mean…that is what you’re saying, right?”

“You can choose someone who’s acceptable…”

“…and who are you to say he’s not acceptable?” you demanded, offended on Alex’s behalf. “You don’t even know him.”

He made himself at home, taking a seat as he stared at you, hands folded on the counter.

“So tell me about him then…”

You heaved a long sigh, leaning against the sink as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“He’s…sweet,” you started, pressing your hands to your eyes. “Oh my God, he’s so sweet, Chris. You’d get along great with him. He’s funny, he loves dogs, and he has the biggest and kindest family you’ll ever meet. He’s filming overseas, right now-.”

“So he’s an actor,” Chris interrupted, sounding displeased.

“Yes. He calls me every night…,” you trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.

“You told Anthony that it wasn’t serious…”

You looked down.

“I really like him, okay? That’s why I don’t care what you guys think. I’m not breaking up with him just because you don’t approve,” you said, eyes meeting his again. “You’re not my father, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“No, I’m not your father, and I’m sure as hell glad for that, but someone definitely needs to be…”

“Screw you, Chris,” you murmured.

He glared at you, and you fought back tears, surprised at how much this was hurting your feelings.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad about this! Why are you treating me like I can’t make my own decisions?”

“Because I think you’re making bad ones,” he answered, rising and heading towards the door.

You balled your hands into fists as he made his way out.

You spun away from Tessa, a thin layer of sweat clinging to your skin. Today was the last day of filming, and the crew members were hosting a party. You’d almost let Chris’ sour attitude ruin it for you, but Tessa convinced you to come.

She’d arrived at your apartment early in the morning, fed up with your sulking. You told her about your argument with Chris, and she listened while you ranted about his behavior. You talked with her about Alex too, eager to tell her everything. Talking to Tom about him was nice and all, but it was different with Tessa.

She comprehended why you had never said anything about your relationship, far more understanding than Chris or even Anthony had been. She made you feel a lot better about the whole situation and assured you that Chris would get over it. He hadn’t spoken to you the entire time you’d been here, so you didn’t know about that.

It pained you to think that your friendship with him could end just like that over something so insignificant as to who you were dating, something that didn’t affect his life in the slightest. You stumbled away from Tessa, realizing that you’d had more to drink than you thought. You touched her arm.

“Hey, I’m gonna head inside. Try to rest my nerves for a bit…”

“Okay,” she said. “Hurry back when you feel better.”

“K.”

You trudged your way inside of the huge house, heading straight for the kitchen. You filled a glass with water from the sink, emptying it in no time. You were ready to go for another when movement from your left caught your eye.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing when your gaze connected with that of Chris’. He didn’t look like he was having fun, and your shoulders sagged.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

You eyed him, almost sadly, before swallowing. You nodded, forgetting the glass of water and opting to follow him instead. You stumbled a few times, alcohol coursing through your system, but thankfully Chris didn’t notice.

You followed him into a guest bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he turned on the light. He was dressed plainly in jeans and a dark tee, a darker cardigan hugging his arms and shoulders. He rested his hands on his hips in that Captain America way you often teased him about, and you fought a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually breathed.

You blinked at him, the alcohol making it hard to process what he said.

“You’re…sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and his face crumbled as he moved to sit beside you.

“You’re right. I can’t tell you who you can or can’t date. I shouldn’t have said what I said in that interview,” he admitted.

You let out a soft chuckle.

“No…you shouldn’t have. I was so…embarrassed when you said that Chris,” you said, looking at him.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to make you feel that way. I thought I was upset because you hid it from me, but…”

You eyed him, waiting for him to continue. His gaze met yours.

“I don’t have any rights to your dating life, but…I want to,” he slowly replied.

You frowned at him, and he continued.

“I care about you…”

“I know. I care about you too,” you told him in the quiet room.

“I’m attracted to you, Y/N,” he confessed, making your eyes widen. “I always have been.”

Your lips parted, surprise and confusion filling you.

“I told myself from the beginning that my feelings were innocent, that I was just looking out for you. I convinced myself that my anger at your relationship came from a place of concern…but that isn’t true.”

“Chris…”

“Somewhere down the line, in the back of my mind, I had accepted that anything between us would be inappropriate. That you’d be repulsed…and then, come to find out, your boyfriend is even older than me.”

He chuckled, finding some warped humor in it all.

“I felt cheated. I felt like that could be me…like that should be me…”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d have to be blind to deny that Chris was handsome. He was one of the most sought-after men in America, but your feelings had been fleeting…shallow. You thought Anthony and Sebastian and Tom were handsome too, but in an appreciative sort of way. That was how you saw Chris too.

“I’m…with Alex. You know that…”

He took your hands, scooting closer.

“…but could that have been me? Tell me the truth,” he pleaded.

“I…I don’t know-.”

“I think you do. I think you thought like I thought and pushed any desires out of your mind.”

Your mind was fuzzy, too much alcohol in your system to fully process this conversation. You moved to stand, but he held you in place.

“Chris, I think I should go…”

You trailed off when his lips met yours, and you jerked back, eyes wide.

“I have a boyfriend, you know that…”

“You haven’t answered my question,” he told you.

“I…I don’t know! But it doesn’t matter because I am with someone!”

“…and that someone could have been me.”

“But it’s not, so-.”

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you. You reached in between your bodies, pressing the palms of your hands against his chest. He moved back, but he brought you with him. He rolled you over until you were beneath him, and you made a noise of protest deep in your throat.

“Chris,” you mumbled into his lips, pushing against him again.

He was smooth in reaching under your dress to take hold of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease. You opened your mouth to protest again, but all that came out was a gasp when his hand slid between your thighs.

You shook in his arms as he played between your legs, fingers ghosting over you and prodding you until he was able to slide them into your soaking lips. A choked moan climbed out of your throat, and he hummed as his lips trailed down your chin, peppering kisses along your neck.

Your body felt light, limbs numb as you heard him fooling around with his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. You knew what was about to happen. Your brain was screaming at you, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or shock, but you were powerless to stop him.

You reached out to place your hands on his when he parted your legs, and you didn’t know if it was to pull his hands away…or not. You caught a glimpse of him as he settled between your legs, stomach sinking as you blinked at the sight of him…bare…for you.

“Chris,” you mumbled, unsure of what you were going to say.

It didn’t matter, anyway. His lips were covering yours as he pressed the head of his cock against your folds, prodding and prolonging the inevitable. You thought about Alex, and that sobered you up a bit, but it was too late.

You threw your head back against the mattress, nails digging into Chris’ hands as he thrust inside of you. The noise that escaped him was orgasmic, the deep sound causing you to clench around his length. He hissed at that before completely leaning over you, forearms pressed into the mattress beside your head as he started to move.

Shallow breaths left your lips as he pumped into you, the squelching sound of his retreat and entry reaching your ears. Your eyes were unfocused, hands coming up to rest on his sides as you started to moan. He joined you, bending his head to kiss you again and again.

There were odd brief moments at the start of filming where you idly wondered what it would be like to kiss Chris. You never imagined that you’d find out for sure. Then when you and Alex happened, you’d left those girlish and embarrassing fantasies behind. His lips were soft and sweet with the taste of whatever drink he’d had, and he moved them over yours with so much expertise it made your head spin.

“That feel good?” he breathlessly wondered, jerking his hips into yours.

You gave a shaky nod.

“U-uh-huh,” you gasped, clenching around him.

“God, you’re so beautiful… You know that?” he mumbled, kissing you again.

Your toes flexed, stomach clenching as well.

“I thought about you all last night,” he quietly professed. “I thought about your lips and these fucking thighs and how it’d feel to be in between them…”

“Chris,” you whined.

“You’re so tight,” he hissed in your ear. “Tighter than I’d imagined you’d be.”

One of your hands traveled to his back, bunching up his shirt and sweater.

“Chris,” you gasped, breath hitching. “Chris, I think…”

Your words died on your tongue as you moaned, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer. He groaned against your skin, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me?”

You gave a jerky nod, tightening your grip on him. He hissed when you clenched around him again, blue eyes boring into your own.

“Yeah? You’re fucking choking my cock. A greedy little thing,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Come on, baby. Show me what I do to you…”

You shook in his arms as your climax rushed over you, legs trembling and eyes rolling as you clenched around him again and again. He wasn’t done, fucking you through it until you were an incoherent mess beneath him.

You never did rejoin Tessa on the dance floor.

tags: @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @readermia @nickyl316h

#Dark Fic #Dark fics #dark!chris evans #chris evans x reader #dark chris evans #dark chris evans x reader

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