#long slow burns with longing looks and stuff are my jam

[greenduvet]

flowers she gave him pt. 1

A/N: Hi loves!! So excited to finally share this story that has been brewing in my head for what feels like forever. I haven’t posted any of my writing publicly for years! So this is a big step for me, and I just couldn’t keep these thoughts to myself any longer. I want to say the biggest thank you to @luiscarrutherss and @galarian-weezing-on-prep for not only reading the early draft but making me feel excited to write and share my story. Also my girlfriend for helping me edit and watching succession. This will be a friends to lovers slow burn, so if that’s your jam like mine stick around! Anyways, enjoy mwah!

The floor was silent. Most people had gone home hours ago, the lights off in most offices. It was always so odd this time of night — looking out over all the different worlds happening just below, life continued on so vividly yet it felt so stiff and halted here.

It wasn’t the plan to have been here this late. Really he should have picked you up hours ago, the dinner reservation that had been made earlier this week now way past check in.

The reservation was Roman’s idea. Maybe a poor attempt at an apology, the only way a Roy knew how to apologize — dance around it yet never letting it fully resolve. You were used to it by now, a lifetime of Roman had made you well familiar. Yet this time felt different. Roman for once in his life was being distant, independent. He would blame it on work, family, stress, but you knew him better than that.

Tearing your eyes from the window, you look at your phone. Still nothing from Roman, not even a heads up that he would be an hour late to the aforementioned reservation. The thought of sending another ignored text filled you with a sense of irritation. Why wait here when you could see him face to face?

Without a second thought you haphazardly throw your things into your bag, muttering softly to yourself. The lights of your borderline clinical office flick off as you shut the door.

The way to Romans office was nearly tattooed in your brain from years of walking back and forth. Though your office was just down the hall, tonight it felt like a dreadful journey into unfamiliar territory. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go.

Turning the corner you could see him through the thick glass walls. He was staring at his computer, full attention to whatever was on the screen. You swear you had never seen him work so hard in his life… or at least pretend to work this hard. With a soft sigh, you walk into the office and stop in front of his desk, his eyes not once glancing from the screen.

“Late night?” The tone of your voice is dry, maybe a bit sarcastic. You weren’t used to this Roman, the detached, focused type. He had always been clingy, willing to throw his work down as soon as you had walked in.

Even standing directly in front of him, his eyes still never move from the screen. Moving his free hand from the desk to run through his already tousled hair, he hums softly, not bothering to give a full response.

Another sigh leaves your mouth and you turn to take a seat on the piece of foam covered in velvet they called a couch, there more for decor than actual comfort.

~~~

While your back is turned, Roman’s eyes glance quickly to you. The perfect image of a long day, he watched as you slowly dropped your bag without a thought. The whole day he had fought the urge to text you and watched the minutes tick past the planned reservation. He didn’t understand why he was doing this, pushing you away and trying to hurt you. Yet he felt like he was the only one hurting here.

As quick as his eyes lingered on you they were back on the screen, looking at the same report sheet he had been rereading for over an hour now. The sight of you settling on the couch out of the corner of his eye made his brows furrow softly. Why was he doing this again?

“Uh, ya know, Dad had me do some stuff.” He mumbles softly in response, his voice high in octave and almost tense. God, he didn’t even believe himself. He rips the hand in his hair down and begins to rapidly type something on the computer, trying his best to sell his stupid ‘busy’ act. You weren’t buying it, but it was unspoken that you and Roman never really did feelings — maybe that's why you were still so close.

~~~

Sighing, you pull your phone out and slip off the uncomfortable shoes you were wearing. It seems like Roman won’t be finished anytime soon, so neither will you.

The two of you work in a tense but comfortable silence, you clearing old emails and roman rapidly slamming keys. It was routine, though it didn’t keep you from noticing that what was once so familiar was now slowly changing. The silence still comfortable, yet more deafening than before.

“We had a reservation for tonight, did you forget?” Your voice breaks the silence, addressing the elephant in the room. Panning your view to roman, you can tell the question makes him squirm. The vein on his forehead bulged, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the screen.

You wait to hear some poor excuse, something around how it wasn’t his fault or to fuck off… but it never comes. Roman just continues to slam on the keys, the discomfort only growing on his face.

Sitting up, you nearly roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time of the night. You didn’t have time to waste sitting twiddling your thumbs to expect a coherent response from Roman when he obviously wasn't interested in giving you one. Slipping on your tight shoes, you grab your bag and rise wordlessly.

You look at Roman, hoping for something. For him to look at you, acknowledge that you were here for him. His eyes remained glued to the screen, though it seems like there is a deeply rooted panic there. 5...10…30 seconds go by and he does nothing.

The voice in your head repeating a mantra of fuck this over and over finally wins, and you turn to the door to leave. Though it hurt, you were tired of this back and forth. That, and your bed sounded much more appealing than the stone couch.

~~~

The second you leave Romans office, his eyes tear from the screen to your disappearing figure. The feeling of panic that had been bubbling in his chest all week started to explode into a deeper fear — you were walking away. He knew he deserved it, but still — what the fuck? Part of him thinks to leave you be and ignore your texts again, but his heart is screaming at him to follow you, chase after you and stop pushing you away like he had been for weeks.

He rises from his desk, leaving his computer unlocked and hastily makes it over to where you’d gone off to.

~~~

It feels like the elevator is taking forever on purpose. Maybe to taunt you for waiting for Roman, or maybe because deep down you had hoped he would come after you. Still, you waited for the doors to open so you could forget about today and the weird feeling in your chest at your best friend ignoring you. Why did it feel like you might actually lose him this time? Roman had seen you through your worst, and you’d seen him through his. But this dynamic was new, and didn’t feel like something you could recover from.

Finally, the high pitched ding breaks you from your thoughts, the doors sliding open to the luxury elevator awaiting you. Stepping in, you scan your badge and wait to be taken to ground level once again. Wine sounded good tonight, lots of it.

The doors begin to close, but before they can shut a hand is shoved between them, forcing them to open. Roman. He was there, face slightly flushed. It was funny, because Roman had never been the one to chase after you originally.

~~~

The sun felt hot – almost scorching. It was the end of June and finally it was starting to feel like summer in the hamptons. The backyard seemed to stretch on forever and was decked in long tables covered in lavish meals. This was a yearly event Logan held for his “partners” and their families — It was for the people who knew where the bodies were hidden. The whole ‘get away’ was to keep them close.

Though the event was mostly filled with adults, a few children were scattered around. A boy almost in his older teens, one a few years younger doing his best to fit in with the adults. An even younger boy with messy hair and big eyes, a young girl with fiery red hair, and lastly another girl who didn’t really fit in with the others. Yet that didn’t stop her from trying.

“Roman! Look at this – it's a worm!” You held out the stick with a worm dangling from it, the soft blue dress hanging on your tiny frame most definitely ruined. The wide grin on your face only grew as Romans eyes widened in disgust as he turned in the opposite direction. You would only start to chase after him again in response, as you had all afternoon.

This was a game between just you and Roman — you bugged, poked, nagged, and in response he would run away, gag, and ignore. For some reason your tiny brain just never got the memo that he couldn’t stand you. Things were easier back then. Innocent.

The sound of a loud bell stops you in your steps, Roman halting ahead of you. Dinner time. Placing the worm gently back to the ground you follow the children you came to know as the Roys.

The feeling of eyes on you from your parents and other bodies burnt like fire on your skin as you approached the dinner table. You hadn’t meant to dirty the dress, but running through the vast yard with the people you called “friends” had made you forget — forget that this was a performance, and that you needed to set a good example so that your family could stand out. Your mother would have words to say about this later.

Each child slid into their assigned seat at their own table away from the adult conversations happening at the other, longer table. You couldn’t help but feel a little relieved — you didn’t fully understand that whole world yet at the ripe age of 5, but you knew enough to be bored. Shiv felt the same way you did, her face more relaxed now than it had been at the sound of the ringing bell.

Roman’s seat was the one next to yours, and it was made obvious by the soft groan that left his mouth when he saw the tag of his name next to yours. Dramatically, he pulled his chair from the table, each action over dramatized and nearly throwing his body into the seat. Though the sour look didn't last long on his face as his eyes panned over to you and your dirty blue dress.

“Mommy and Daddy won’t be very happy with that, now will they?” The sour look fades from his face, a devilish grin replacing it. His tone is teasing and rude. It wasn’t anything new with Roman, though. The only attention he spared to give you was the more unpleasant kind. But it didn’t stop your obsession with trying to break him down and play with you.

You return his comment with a pout and look away from him, your hands finding themselves busy undoing the neatly folded table napkin at your place setting. Gently your fingers pull it apart, corner by corner. Finally you place it gently on your lap, your head high as you reply. “It was an accident. Maybe if you played nice, I wouldn't be messy.”

Roman was almost surprised with the response he was met with, a little smirk filled his lips. He couldn’t help but feel put in his place. He nodded to himself, taking the napkin and ripping the cloth out of its fold. Vastly different from the way you had done it with so much meaning. Maybe you weren’t as annoying as Roman thought.

The dinner was pretty tame. The children made soft conversation about various topics — the summer vacations they had planned, the extracurriculars, the movies they wanted to see. While the adults stuck to business conversation, how it always was and would be. It felt nice though, for once being around other children who somewhat understood your lifestyle. That, and it was a lot better than the company of your au pair.

After dinner, you find yourself with Shiv in the garden playing a game of fairies while running around the well maintained garden of roses. The sound of your feet against the gravel and shared giggles is all that can be heard — a pure moment of childhood innocence. Your dress slowly changed into one more brown than blue, Shiv’s own dress dirtying as well. It didn’t matter though, because for once you were just girls playing.

Logan’s booming voice rips you and Shiv from the moment. You can’t make out anything he is saying, but the both of you know it can't be good. You look to Shiv but her eyes are already on your face, wide and crystal blue. Then you hear it clear as day, the only word that mattered. Roman.

Looking around, you find a flower from one of the many bushes and pluck it gently, making sure to not damage any petals. You didn’t know Roman well yet but you knew well enough that this was normal. The sound of Logan's booming voice most times directed at him, as he seemed to always be the easiest target. Though, there was something about this time that felt worse than the others.

Without a second thought you run off, away from Shiv and the flower garden, carefully cradling the small white flower in your palm. The soft sound of sniffling guiding where to go, eventually leading you to the side of the oversized house.

There he was — sitting on the floor, knees to his chest, and a hand holding his cheek in pain. The spitting image of a kicked puppy.

This was worse than the other times.

Wordlessly you sit next to Roman, eyes not daring to look at him, but glued to the wall with ivy overgrowing. Before Roman can protest or run away, you bring the small white flower into view. A smile fills your lips before placing the flower onto his knee with all the care in the world.

That was the moment everything changed.

~~~

The elevator doors open fully and Roman steps into it with you. Your name falls from his lips as his hands comb through his hair for the umpteenth time that night. “Look– Fuck. Let’s just grab dinner, okay? There’s gotta be someplace still open and half edible around the block.”

You can tell he is trying his best to contain his expression and stay in control of the moment, but he's failing. Miserably.

His hazel eyes watery and nearly pleading, begging you to look at him and forgive him for being a total ass.

Looking him up and down, you hesitate. Maybe to make him sweat or to make him feel how you did all day, you weren’t sure.

“Wherever we go, I want hashbrowns.” You tear your eyes away from roman and click the button that would take you to the lobby. Immediately there is air in the elevator again, Roman’s pleading eyes vanishing. He always seemed to get his way with you.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

A Voice Through the Nothingness Part 10

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Please drop a comment if you're enjoying my work.

Contains: Fluff, angst, fluff. This is still a slow burn.

4.7 K words

Comment if you want to be tagged or follow #a voice through the nothingness.

“When I look into your eyes, I'm curious to know what you see?”- A.K. Kuykendall

Hazel sighed and texted Billy, "I'm going to be twenty minutes late. Thank you for waiting for me." 

The ping of Hazel's special text tone pulled Billy out of the meeting with Frank in an instant "No worries, bad day at work?" 

Frank chuckled, "You talking to Hazel?" 

Billy nodded, "Yeah, she's going to be late. I just hope she's ok." 

Frank dismissed Billy's worry, "She'd be fine, she's probably just had to deal with some asshole parent and has a mountain of paperwork." 

Billy felt his heart slow, "You're right." 

Her tone sang again, "You have no idea, I'll tell you all about it if you want." 

Billy huffed and texted her back, "Hell yeah." He turned back to Frank, "She had a bad day at work. You got any updates on this senator?" 

Frank nodded and threw the file in his hand to Billy, "Yeah, it's nothing to worry about." 

****

Hazel was precisely twenty minutes late and Billy hopped up off the picnic blanket that he had set up under the tree to help her with the basket, "I'm sorry, I had to go home and have a long shower."

Billy noticed her curls were still damp, pilled on her head in a messy bun. He could smell her conditioner, it smelt like brown sugar and vanilla. "Gross stuff?"

They reached the blanket and she shook her head, "No, fucking anti vaxxers. I didn't want to go near anyone, still covered in whooping cough, I had a quick shower at the hospital and a long one at home. I had to put my scrubs in a biohazard bag, they're soaking in disinfectant as we speak."

Billy chuckled, "Don't get Curt started. We saw what the lack of modern medicine did to people. I don't know how you don't punch idiots like that."

Hazel sat down and gave Billy a look as if to tell him she wanted to, "Neither do I. None of that matters anyway, the kid's improving in the PICU and I got to give a lecture to the parents while the head doc sat in the room with his arms crossed."

Billy sat next to her and laid out the plates while she pulled out the food, "Oh, I loved getting to do those. The idiot looks at your superior thinking they'll help out and they just stand there. Best feelings ever."

Billy went to pluck a grape and Hazel raised a finger, "Those are grapes for the ducks, I bought better ones for us." She held up a bowl and he took one, holding back a moan as the sweet taste filled his mouth, "What about you?"

Billy sighed, "We got another job with a senator from out of state, he's here campaigning for cheap energy and may of may not have pissed off some oil people."

Hazel blinked, "Wow, good luck."

Billy chuckled, "I'm guessing you don't like oil companies?"

She shook her head, "Nope, I hate diamond companies too. I wrote my Master's thesis on caring for children who worked in gemstone mines. Needless to say, your clients and I have very different opinions on jewellery."

Billy gave Hazel a soft smile, "You and be both. We all saw what those thing do and what people did to get them. I look at their fancy watches and their wife's nice necklaces and I hate it."

Billy picked up the little sandwich Hazel had placed on her plate and looked it over, "What's this?"

Hazel smiled, "It's nice, egg and chives. There's also ham and tomato, cucumber, tuna fish, and cream and jam."

Billy took it in with one bite, "Wow, this is great."

Hazel chuckled, "Ok good, because I made more than sandwiches." She picked up a glass container and placed to contents into two little bowls, "Strawberry Salad with Balsamic, it's very good. There's also some mini chicken wraps and tiny chocolate cakes for sweets."

Billy's eyes went wide, "Wow, you are impressive. I've never had such a fancy picnic."

Hael laughed, "Life is too short for bland food. One day I'll make you my super spicy curry.

Billy smiled, "If it's anything like the rest of this stuff I'm not going to say no."

****

Billy rested back on his elbows, his stomach full, "I want to feed the ducks but I think I'm too full."

Hazel chuckled, "Come on, it will be fun and I don't want the grapes to go to waste." She stood up and extended her hands, helping Billy up with a grunt. They walked over to the small pond and say down on the bench before Hazel handed Billy a small handful of the green fruit.

Billy smiled, "You and Lizzy should come to Anvil and have a look around. They've all heard so much about you, so if don't bring you and Lizzy down they'll drag you there."

Hazel sighed, "I don't see why not, you've seen where I work so I should see where you work, it's only fair."

Billy nodded, "Very true. It's nice, very fancy. You can see our training facilities, our meeting rooms, hell we even have a shooting range where you can show me those skills that Frank keeps talking about."

"We'll be there, although I don't know if you want to end spend any time at your shooting range, I might show you up." Hazel knew that would get something out of him.

Billy smirked, "Oh yeah, you're telling me you're that good?"

Hazel nodded and tossed a grape to a honking duck, "Yep."

They fed the ducks until all the grapes were gone and they were both yawning, "Let me take you home, you've had a long day. I came on the subway, so you don't need to worry about my gas."

Hazel sighed, "Fine, you'll ask until I say yes anyway."

They walked almost arm in arm to the station and sat leg to leg as the train moved. Billy picked up on the people in the corners as he got closer but they didn't pay Hazel any attention, until she reached her building.

The man standing there gave her a look, "You good Hazelnut?"

She nodded, "This is Billy we're friends, he's ok."

Billy offered the man a slight smile, "I'm just going to drop her at her door, you don't need to worry about me."

The man smiled back, "Hazel's a nice lady, we're all on the same page here." Nothing more was said as Hazel walked through the front doors, up a flight of stairs and into a hallway.

They arrived at her door, and Billy watched as Hazel checked the corner of the door before pointing inside as she opened it, "You wanna come in for a coffee?"

Billy smiled, "Sure."

Hazel looked down at his feet, "Shoes off, please."

Billy kicked off his shoes and took a good look around, "Wow, this place is spotless, and really nice, did you do all of this?"

She nodded and headed over to the coffee machine, "I did, I fixed up a few other apartments too. One guy owns the whole thing and he's a cheap ass. So I told him as long as he paid for everything, I'd work for free. I've only done mine, Marge down the hall and one for a family downstairs but at least it's not sad yellow paint and decades old kitchens."

He smiled, "Wow, that's amazing." Hazel could see him going over his next sentence, "I saw you check the door before you opened it, I'm guessing for something to tell you if it had been opened. I know it's not my place to ask but are you safe? Because you don't act like someone who is."

Hazel paused making the coffee and turned to Billy, "I am, no one's looking for me, I'm not in deep with the mob. I just have this fear that my ex will get out one day and by the time they tell me, it will be too late. So I'm doing my best to be ready."

Billy smiled softly, "I'm not going to suggest you move to an Anvil protected apartment so someone can do that for you but if you ever need someone to spend the night at your door, just give me a call."

Hazel leaned against the counter before shutting off the machines and handing Billy his cup, "The beans are from Madagascar, vanilla with notes of caramel. You wanna feed Barry while you're here?"

Billy spun on his heel and looked right up Barry who was clearly trying to gain attention for food, "Why not, you got any calms?"

Hazel sighed, reached into the fridge and handed Billy a bag, "Only three, if he eats too much he'll get sick." She walked over a pulled off the tank lid and Billy chuckled and Barry went after the clams as Billy dropped them in.

Billy wasn't going to drop it, "I'll even send over a fish lover. We've got one guy who won't shut up about putting a tank in at Anvil, no charge to you but he'll do it for free anyway if you let him feed Barry."

Hazel shook her head, "I want to say yes but if I do that I'll never be able to be on my own. I have to come out of this stronger, not needing a crutch."

Billy chuckled, his tone slightly cynical, "Physician heal thyself. Maybe a good night's sleep will do you some good. I'm not saying you look tired, you always look great but I know how someone is when they're always watching their back. I won't ask you again, just know that the offer is there."

Hazel swallowed, "Thank Billy. You should let your friend put in that fish tank, they're good for your mental health."

Billy chuckled as Barry spat the clamshell out and came looking for more, "I'd have to agree. Can I get a Barry? He's like a dog with fins."

Hazel nodded, "He's a very special Fahaka Puffer. He's one of the first bred in captivity. He needs brackish water which is a mix of salt and fresh and the rest is pretty easy. The plants you see are really important, Barry's natural home is the Nile so they're all Nile plants. I know a guy who can get you everything."

Billy smiled, "That's great, when can I get the fish?"

Hazel sighed, "Not for a little while, you have to set up the tank first and let all the good stuff grow so it's safe for the fish."

"Done and done. I want an office buddy." Billy sounded so excited, "How big will he get?"

Hazel pulled her hands apart, "Eighteen inches. He's got one more tank upgrade in his future. He's less than two years old and he's only got another eight inches to grow so he'll live fifteen years. His final home will be a one hundred gallon tank."

Billy chuckled, "That's huge."

Hazel nodded, "Yeah, next to my house it's the thing I'm saving for. I know he's just a fish but I love him."

Billy shook his head, "He's not just a fish Hazel, he's your friend." Billy sat on the small couch with a sigh, "Thank you for having me over and as much as I would like to stay, my phone keeps buzzing in my pocket."

Hazle smiled softly, "Thank you for coming. Lizzy and I will be at Anvil when you guys have the time, just let us know."

Billy walked over to the skink and washed and dried his empty cup, "Can I help with the other dishes?" He could see that Hazel was thinking it over but before she could say yes, his phone rang, "I'm sorry, that means something needs my attention. I'll make it up to you."

Hazel smiled and headed for the door, "It's alright. I get a time from Lizzy and text you."

Billy stood still at the door and took a deep breath before smiling down at her, "Can I give you a hug?"

Hazel's answer was to give him one first and Billy relaxed into her embrace, "Be safe out there."

Billy chuckled, "I always am. Goodnight Hazel."

She gave him a soft wave as he stepped out of her apartment, "Goodnight Billy."

****

Hazel and Lizzy walked through Anvil's front doors and looked around, it looked as nice as they had described it with with huge windows and sleek design. Hazel all but skipped up to the front desk and waved at the young man working it, "Hello, I'm Hazel and this is Lizbeth, Billy, Curt and Frank are expecting us."

The man nodded, "They are. I'll call them and they'll come down and get you. In the meantime, have a seat or get yourself something to drink."

Lizzy gave Hazel a look, "Thank you sir. We'll be sure to tell your bosses, you are great at your job."

They were down a few minutes later and hugs were exchanged before Billy waved his hand with a smile, "Shall we ladies."

Hazel turned to Lizzy who gave a nod, "We shall. Lead the way."

Billy walked them further into the building and down the hall, stopping before another set of windows that looked out into a gym, "This is our training area where we review new recruits."

Lizzy blinked, "Wow, no wonder you're all so jacked." Curt straightened his back, but it was clear that day he felt a little shy.

Billy walked down the wall to another area that looked almost the same but empty, "This is the staging area, we do lots of stuff here."

He took them to an elevator then hit the button to one floor above. When the doors opened, Billy resumed the tour, "This floor has all our offices but mine and Frank's and all our meeting rooms.

Lizzy tapped Curis on the shoulder, "Where's you office?"

Curt chuckled, "Downstairs by the gym, I like to be around everyone."

Lizzy smiled, "Isn't that sweet."

Hazel exchanged a look with Billy and Frank, then turned to Lizzy, "Ask him out. This flirting without action is getting really weird."

Frank slapped a hand to his mouth to stifle the laugh while Billy grinned. Lizzy smiled and shook her head before turning to Curt, "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Curt returned her smile, "Yeah, that would be great."

"Now that's over, can we see more. This place is super cool." Hazel sounded over the moon.

Billy smiled, "Sure. I think we should go to the range and see if you live up to Frank's hype."

Hazel tapped her bag, "I'm ready for it. Which brings me to my next question, you must have hidden metal detectors because we're both armed and we weren't stopped at the door, nor did we go through anything. Explanation one is that you're not checking, which I don't believe, and option two is that you are, and we've already been given to ok to enter the building."

Billy shook his head is disbelief, "You're one of only a few people who released we've been using hidden metal detectors. You sure you don't want to come and work for me?"

She shook her head, "I love my job so no but I'm happy to keep blowing your mind."

Billy chuckled, "I'm sure you are but I'll believe it when I see it."

Billy led them back to the elevator and then it took them down to the basement, the doors opening to a huge floor with rows upon rows of gun lockers on both sides and a range at the end. They walked to the booths and Billy grabbed targets and Frank retrieved earplugs and goggles while Hazel and Izzy took their guns from their bags.

Once the targets were set up, every one put in their ear and eye protection and then shooting positions were taken and the guns were raised. No one jumped as the shots went off and in a handful of seconds, the guns were empty.

There was a buzz that indicted the range was cold and the targets slid forward, "Fuck yeah." Hazel chuckled at Lizzy's exclamation.

Billy huffed as he looked over the targets, "Fuck yeah is right, you ladies are deadly."

Lizzy sighed, "It's all Hazel, she's the one who taught me."

Frank smiled, "Atta girl."

Hazel waved a hand, "It's nothing, I've just had a lot of practice."

Curt chuckled, "No need to be humble, there are people out there who have been shooting for years who aren't that good."

Lizzy sighed, "Well, unlike Hazel, I'm happy to take the compliment."

Hazel chuckled, "Have I lived up to the hype?"

Billy nodded, "Oh yeah you have. How about we head out and get some lunch, maybe we can talk about how two nurses could beat my staff in a shootout?"

Hazel smiled, "Ok, but only if you don't try and recruit us."

Billy nodded, "I make no promise. We can go to that little diner on fifth." Just as everyone walked off, Billy's hand wrapped softly around Hazel's wrist, "Can I steal you for a second."

Hazel nodded, "Sure, what's up?"

Billy paused, unsure of how to proceed, "Are you sure you're alright?"

Hazel nodded, "Yep, why wouldn't I be."

Billy's hand was still around her wrist, "Because you're groupings made it pretty clear that you've spent a lot of time training to kill someone when you get the chance. I'm not judging you and I think you're doing the right thing, I'm just worried that something keeping you up and night."

Hazel swallowed, "I'm still healing, being able to protect myself helps a lot."

Billy didn't ask for the hug this time and Hazel found herself ready to collapse in his arms, "Do you want to come over for dinner?"

He was taken aback but caught himself, "Yeah, I'd love that."

****

Billy knew something was wrong the moment Hazel opened the door, she seemed flatter and even more protective of her space than she usually was, "Is everything alright?"

Hazel nodded, "Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?"

Billy noticed how she checked down the hall before she closed the door, "You're jumpy."

Hazel waved her hand dismissively, "Sorry about that. I have a bad day at work." She pointed to the box in his hand, "Did you bring something?"

Billy nodded, "Yep, I know you probably made dessert but I know how much you like those double chocolate brownies from the chocolate shop. I only brought two."

Hazel smiled, "Well that was a good choice because I made super fancy vanilla ice cream and those brownies warm up like a dream."

Billy took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of her cooking, "Whatever's for dinner tonight smells great."

Hazel took the box from Billy and walked the few steps to her kitchen, "A lovely roast pork with crackling, homemade bread, some roasted veggies, a tomato salad, and I made some sand cookies with different kinds of cream for you to take home."

Billy felt his stomach growl, "That sounds really good."

Hazel pointed to the fridge, "You want anything to drink? I've got beer, water, fresh peach juice."

Billy thought for a moment, "Fresh peach juice sounds really good."

Billy walked into the kitchen and looked around, spying two cups already out. He slid placed them on the bench behind her and watched as she opened the fridge and took out a fancy judge filled with juice, "Wow, even your fridge is spotless."

Hazel chuckled, "My fridge is perfect, I've seen enough food poisoning to know that a dirty fridge is where it starts. You want ice?" Billy nodded and he could help but smile and she dropped a handful of frozen peach chunks into his glass, then into hers, "Dinner will be ready soon."

"That's great. Can I do anything to help?" Billy wasn't going to lie, he wanted to make a good impression.

Hazel shook her head, "Nope, everything is done. All I need to do is take the pork out of the oven when it's done."

Billy shook his head, "There must be something I can do. You've spent your only day off cooking."

Hazel sighed, "The only thing that I need to be is to sharpen the knives and I'm not asking you to do that."

Billy grinned, "How many do you need to do?"

"Two. Dinner will be ready soon, you don't need to do anything." Hazel bent down, opened the oven and checked the pork, "It will be done in fifteen minutes, you're my guest, you should be enjoying your drink and relaxing."

Billy shook his head and pointed to the sink, "Is that your wet stone soaking in the sink?" Hazel nodded, "Great, it has to rest for ten minutes before you serve it and I know there's no way you cut the tomatoes that well with dull knives. I'll be done with time to spare."

Hazel sighed, "Alright. Thank you, it's not my favourite task."

"Really, why?" Billy loved it, but then again, he wasn't just sharpening cooking knives.

Hazel shuddered, "I hate the texture, it gives me the willies."

Billy took the block from the sink and brought it over to the counter next to Hazel before Hazel handed him the two knives, "You've already used it today?"

Hazel nodded, "Yeah, I did the rest of them plus the ones we'll use tonight."

Billy shrugged, "That makes my life even easier, the little metal shavings help."

Hazel held up a hand like she could feel it as he moved the knife across the block, "I know. God I don't know how you enjoy that."

Billy chuckled, "It's meditative." Hazel would have responded but she was watching the way his long fingers pushed the blade back and forth, "You wanna tell me what happened today? You're doing a good job at hiding it but you jump every there's a noise on the street." Billy could see Hazel was thinking about lying, "You can tell me, I've seen it all."

Hazel blinked, "I lied. It happened at work but it has nothing to do with it."

Billy could hear the worry creeping into her voice, "That doesn't matter, if you don't get it out of your brain, you won't have room for dinner."

Hazel swallowed, "I got a call from the DA that handled my Ex's case. He's coming up for parole in a week. I have no idea how and they won't tell me. My guess is that he's a rat."

Billy thought he had his rage back under control but what was bubbling under his skin made him feel like he was on fire, he was so angry his teeth hurt. He took a deep breath, knowing that blowing up now would only do harm, "When do you need to leave for the hearing?"

Hazel shook her head, "I don't, I'm an essential service worker. I can do it via video. Work knows, they've given me a conference room so I can appear and say my piece."

Billy rubbed his face, "Nothing has happened yet. We'll all be there for you, with how much money Anvil has donated, they won't say no."

Hazel gave him a soft smile, "Thank you. It's two thirty on Thursday."

Billy placed his hand on her shoulder, "Done. How are you feeling?"

Hazel huffed, "Other than all the normal things? I could eat a horse and I never have an appetite when I'm worried."

Billy let out of sympathetic laugh, "That's really normal. The part of your brain that's telling you to do all those things you do to keep yourself safe knows you have to eat. I won't be much longer with these but if you want to talk about it more until dinner's done we can."

Hazel shook her head, "No, I'm alright. I've planned a nice night. I want to keep it that way."

Hazel walked away to check the pork, smiling as she pulled it from the oven and Billy felt his mouth water at the sight of it, "Shit that looks good."

Hazel slid the tray onto a wooden board and wrapped the meat to keep it warm, "Not only now, you think you'll be done with the knives soon?"

Billy nodded, "Yep."

"Good, I'll set the table." Hazel popped the bread into the hot oven to get warm first before setting the table then taking the sides over. By the time Billy had washed the knives and placed them in the block, Hazel had taken the meat over and had topped up their drinks, "You ready?"

Billy nodded and walked over to the small table and pulled out her chair and Hazel sat down with a smile, "You are so charming."

Billy chuckled, "You cooked for me, it's the least I could do."

Hazel waved her hand, "Please, serve yourself." Billy piled his plate high before pointing to the uncarved pork with his fork, "Go for it, you can tell me if you think I should leave the sharping to you from now on."

The knife cut through the meat like butter and Billy smiled, "I'm very impressed. The knife is sharp and the meat is amazing."

Hazel watched as Billy took a bite, his filling with enjoyment as he tried the various dishes, "How can tomatoes and salt taste so good?"

Hazel's eyes crinkled with a smile, "I use tomatoes from the farmer's market and there's a bit of garlic."

"When does Barry get his dinner." Billy didn't miss how the fish was following him around the room all night.

Hazel shook her head fondly, "He doesn't, he got something from the market this morning."

Billy made a face, "I feel bad eating all this nice food in front of him."

Hazel chuckled, "Don't fall for his silly little fish face, he will extort you."

Billy held back a moan as the crackling shattered under his teeth, "You got a dream kitchen?"

Hazel nodded, "Yep, I have a," she paused, vision book didn't sound right, "I have a book with everything I want it in, from floorboard stain to the kitchen all laid out. I know what I need to pay for everything, I have planned it down to the last screw. I just need the house."

"So you're alright with a fixer upper?" Billy had a feeling he knew the answer.

"That's what I'm looking for, I want something I can put love into." He could see the determination on her face.

"That sounds like a nice dream and I guess you can practice on this place until then." Billy was happy to admit that it felt more like a home than his loft back at Anvil.

Hazel smiled, "It has made every late night and early morning worth it."

Billy's plate was empty before he knew it and then dessert was being served up the moment the brownies were warm. At the first bite of the ice cream, Billy's eyes rolled into the back of his head, "Holy shit, I've never had vanilla ice cream this good."

Hazel chuckled, "It's all in the vanilla. Thank you for the brownies, they really made the night."

Billy smiled, "It was my pleasure."

All too soon, the night was over, Billy helped Hazel wash the dishes but only after her protests and then he was standing at the door with part of him hoping she was going to ask him to stay. Alas, she didn't, "Thank you so much for coming, I'm sorry there were no leftovers."

Billy shook his head, "I don't think I could control myself if there was. You gotta let me cook for you next time."

Hazel smiled, "I didn't know you could cook."

Billy nodded, "Yeah, and I'm pretty good at it. How does this same time next week sound?"

Hazel's smile grew, "I'd love that."

Billy mirrored her smile, "Good, I have a loft at Anvil so you won't have any trouble finding the place."

"Ok, I'll be there," Hazel opened her arms and Billy wrapped his around her, "Goodnight Billy."

Billy felt his chest fill with warmth, "Goodnight Hazel."

Part 11

@rainbowgoblinfan

[justagalwhowrites]

Kit how do you stand making your babies go THROUGH IT?????

My fic is supposed to be a long, slow, sad burn and I keep having to rewrite because I'm giving in and making them happy too soon?????

Like I need to get this story out the way it's supposed to be but it's KILLING ME making them so sad!

You are the queen of angst and pining, pls help a bitch out

Love you!!!!

HI BESTIE!!

Girl, I don't know lmfao I just love angst. I love the build up and the anticipation and the hurt/comfort and just ugh. I think I live for that more than I do the smut. Give me the vulnerability and longing and obsession, it's just so raw and revealing of who a character is at their core and oddly intimate and just ughhhh yup. I lean into that stuff because it's the driver for character growth more than the good times are, I think. If it's angst for the sake of angst I'm not as into it but plot/character driven angst is my JAM.

What's worse is, you think THIS is bad? You should see what I do to my OC novel characters 🫠 I have a friend who's read both and at one point in one of the novels he had to put it down just to text me "Jesus fucking Christ you're cruel to these people" and I'm like "yeah, I know, I'm sorry!!!"

But I guess if I had to give a tip I'd say try to build out some major plot points to shake things up a bit and draw that out if that's what you're looking to do? Because even in well established relationships, throw in a wrench like job loss or a traumatic event and you're going to have some problems. And those things happen in real life!

Good luck on angst-ing up your story!! I know it's going to be great regardless!

Love you!

[the-firebird69]

My receiver went through Pennsylvania it's not exactly a normal but it's not real normal the excuses the other routes are jammed which they are but usually they are jammed off and on the point is where the receiver here you might receive things information you need and communications have been disrupted recently and something we're messing with that they shouldn't but if you need to hear something you might want to look into the code of the stereo I bought from Walmart

Thor Freya

Olympus

That's okay we're here and stuff I do see what you're saying so we're going to have to try a little bit more to keep people often and he's not one of ours and he looks like a man and he's with Tony f who moved him off

Mac daddy okay well it might be me but I see what you're saying I'm dune 2 but yeah I'm pretty big I don't know why you're not growing we had tons of that prilosec but you're right we get a workout and we get it and we get the cardiovascular going and you're not really burning off that much fat until recently and it's probably going to stretch it out a little but really at 8 years that stuff falls off other medicines will slow it down it doesn't take a ton it takes a lot but it takes a while for someone to start growing it was stunted for so long probably 5 years to full size and it says that should be too hard I'll have to mug back to the everybody I see doesn't mean you probably one steer a day at full size and that's remarkable that's too big and that's what I'm saying he says

Mac daddy

It's hard to impress them no he's nervous and watching so boy that guy's shoulders are wider than mine and he's thick LOL but really it's pretty big and he's a big fella that my full size I'd have a fight on my hands because he's seasoned and skill still and yeah it's Mr Bean any hits people in the beaner that's how he wins and it's annoying but it's the way it goes I guess is a lot of stuff going on a lot of people are moving and leaving they want him out here and they want to see if things are fine and really it's not that bad and we moved out west before the process was really not right but that's what happened

Bill

I got to say something and not cuz my name is slightly the same this is hell you guys are not speaking in complete sentences and I guess you never do but boy it's aggravating and I have to tell you that I get aggravated easily I need to purchase this stuff and it won't what time you said growing up and down will do it and I tried it and everybody's doing it and I started to figure out I was hiding by accident yeah so I feel a little better and it's working in a combine it with stuff grow up and add some stuff as I'm coming down I'll throw it out eventually I'll be stuck up there but wow and it's horrible this is a mess he's going to start growing right at Easter he's laughing and asking us if him or something has something to do with it maybe maybe the cabbage that's true so that makes sense so we're off in another adventure soon and we will let you know how it goes I'm trying to find out some of the stuff he's talking about we know about the Continental caverns and that's real the borge it's a question and gigantic Giants we have to check into it it's going on right now

William

Had to say something stay away from those two they're too big and too much for you and it says oh yeah I already did that and they've got the St Bernards and they're pretty big. Shoes huge numbers and people are coming by now but there's some people bothering him. Like this little kid and it's probably Brian he's a dick. For real.

Hera

It's kind of a humorous thing watching dogs know each other if they're bigger they always pushing and push them around stick their nose right on them so sign of dominance but they're really sitting there sniffing like crazy and they remember okay this guy is all right and he's going to be gone shortly and without so much fanfare and once the ships are gone he's going to take his Titan and lose everything and there's Stone chips up there underground and there's a bunch and people will fight them and lose the rest of theirs it's going to happen shortly.

-the more like her down to 2.5 billion ships the 1 million trumpsters that heated up or out by the pseudo empire Trump only has maybe two billion left that's a lot of ships but not if you can't get anywhere and ask dumb questions but yeah but they can't get anywhere you're not watching ammo supply the attack tactics their technique and why they're doing things and you're not modifying anything you're not leaving any off for information or getting information you just assholes I think you have ai that does something so they're thinking that's true soon they'll be out no but they'll be out and yeah they're stupid. But it was bja during the bicycle thing in this kind of stupid. It's a couple more people that are real Tom but we have some control there's a huge amount of people leaving Florida and there's a bunch coming in here but right now we think there's probably 4% up out of those 4% of 1%, it's more or less almost on the highway you're driving around getting roadway supplies gasoline that's a huge number from 18% yes they'll bring it down to 14% by tomorrow there are some that are planning on evacuating by ship and from Tampa and large numbers. Yes it's minority morlock and almost all of them they found out they're not welcome either and they're having fights with these guys it's adding to it they're going to be leaving momentarily they're going to be leaving from Tampa and fort Myers in big cruise ships. And they are cruise ships that are good sized they're only a thousand foot but they're decent cruise ships they hold both 4000 people uncomfortably and it's a few hours and they go up to the South what's going on now that they are having a little bit of fun trying to get on as they're competing with people who are white poor people and they're trying to get more ships it is stated that they will probably have five or six shifts momentarily. And that's additional right now out of Tampa there are four I'm going to take hours to get there not really they're going to Alabama and it's only like 50 miles you know it's about 80 miles and they go off and back in 2 hours it makes nine shifts once you're up there they can come over the mountains to Georgia and they do that and they're leaving now this is going to be awful they're going to be leaving in the pseudo empire is moving in and it doesn't seem it he says Mac is acting strange and it's true but they are doing it and they do have basis but then again the bases are not on the East Coast they have a lot of aces in Florida and that's the key I was wondering where the bases were they have 50 top side about 40 below some of them are good sized and you know a bunch of ships offshore and making a base there and spaceships and that's what they have a power structure and they have like half of each of the nearby islands and that's also kind of a power structure

-there's other things happening it's crappy acting all around and Matt was doing some crappy in it so people are wondering what's that all about

-our son has not grown in heights at all he decided to train document his size month to month and he's going to keep track of it so he knows if he looks odd people do it all the time here and his arms are a little bigger I checked it out and it's true he's usually at barely 16 inches now it's about almost a quarter over and it's less fat and he's getting bigger little chunky here and there where he wasn't his ribs are filling in a little not much but a little bit and they are he says it will take a little time

-additional to this evacuation is the Midwest they're going up 75 miles and they're already loading up and they'll be out of there completely and others they think to move in no recording it off and we take it all out and we're going to start building automobiles and things like that for export to the perimeter I'm going shortly

-it's a lot of symbology here and it's about our son and his wife it's going on quite a bit and and it's a lot of it it's kind of worse than this so much of it but these guys aren't sending it seems macaron is going nuts with it they are obscene

More shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

[vilindeer]

I got tagged by the sweet @pichitinha , thank you so much I had a blast <3    fanfiction trope list: go to this page and there you can sort the given tropes into categories - you can name and sort the categories however you like, in whatever order it suits you (ones you like to read and write, only to read, would never touch, etc) - then post it here!

I tag everyone who would like to do it ,some people by name @jacquiebethelina44​, @ladylillianrose​ , @aubreystilinski​, @jade4813 , @jmort124, @chocolateandrainboots​ , @queenie-004​

also I hope you know @aubreystilinski​ that the position of Dark fic and Major character death are only there because you are the exception ,

[tblsomedoodles]

. . . a brain geared towards body horror really would have a field day with the family web au (it's me). Bc like. If Raph already had red eyes I imagine the further mutation at maturation would be along the lines of like. Seeing through cloaking magic & Illusions maybe? Maybe he had a migrane for a while while that manifested. And the twins holy mackrel the possibilities. Perhaps one of their arms getting stuck on the bridge of one's shell in the growth process? That could hurt. And with Mikey's eyes I would wager another migrane, one that aches to the bone as his skull reconfigures (part of me wants to write a horror sequence where he wakes up after, not quite sure whats going on, eyes crusted over-with what he assumes is typical sleep crust. but growing 4 new eyelids cant be a bloodless process and head wounds of any sort bleed. Bad. And then someone sees him stumbling blindly to the bathroom, blood smeared all across his face, and screams bloody murder.) Adding if they assume that's all the changes that will occur, Mikey having a simple cough, an aching throat that turns into a mess of built up web and the retching and heaving ribs because he doesn't realize there's something caught, doesn't know what to do or how to loose it

. . . . . . I adore all the fluff but I'm built for horror

Oh definitely, especially early on in the fic like this. (This is pretty much were i'm starting it since it's kind of shifted from a 'sad alternate backstory' fic to a 'solving mysteries about sad alternate backstory' fic.)

I Really like Raph's eyes not just changing color but having a little extra ability with it. Especially if they end up seeing things like Donnie's goggles do, but he doesn't notice immediately. Like it's Raph. I love the kid but he'd probably go around for a week just assuming that there was a sudden influx of yokai not wearing cloaking broaches lol.

(putting in a break b/c it's kinda long and body horror stuff) (just more developing spider traits stuff)

Honestly, the whole thing starts out pretty slow. Like Raph has some itchy eyes that no amount of sleep or eye drops will make stop. Mikey starts out with just some headaches. Donnie's side ache but not enough to be a problem (just enough that Leo tells him he should take a break from his battle shell until it's better.) Leo's the last one to start developing anything for various reasons.

But yeah, they don't really notice anythings wrong until they wake up one morning to find that Donnie's sides hurt so bad that he can't move away from his desk. And those arms coming in, hurt. Especially at the start. As far as Leo and Donnie are concerned, they still have the tiny bit of development those extra arms accomplished from before mutation. (basically just quarter sized bumps on their sides hidden under the bits of shell on their sides. they are well aware they're there and can feel if their there by touching them but it's not viable.) So when they begin developing again, the will-be arms have to force their way through that bit of shell first, kind of like how a tooth grows in through gums. And that's the most painful part of that process. That's what makes Donnie basically unable to move and Raph so concerned that he all but drags Leo out of bed to look at him. (b/c Medic Leo is my jam lol)

Raph, i think would mostly deal with some aches and burning sensations on (or behind) his eyes as his fully develop. Maybe a migraine with heightened light sensitivity so Leo tells him to stay in his room with the lights off.

And you're so right about Mikey! i feel so bad for him now! B/c those headaches would just get worse, and turn to bad migraines that feel like his skull is splitting apart. Eyes can't develop without a spot to develop, so spots would open up for them and, as you said, head wounds bleed a lot so yeah. Poor Raph would just see Mikey and just panic. And i imagine Leo's just starting his own arm development, but regardless of whatever pain he's in, he bolts out of bed b/c Raph screaming at 4am cannot be good. (and with the way things have been going with their mutations, someone probably developed a third eye or something. Scratch that, a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth eye.) But that's not it for Mikey, b/c he's developing webs too and oh that poor kid.

but yeah, early on when it's all developing, is most certainly very rough for the boys. It's painful, and scary, and they're just so confused. (and Leo's just trying to medic everyone while no experience in this or have any good idea of what's going.)

Thank you! This was really cool! Especially since it's dealing with the fic content i'm actively working on. : ) Very helpful, thanks again!

[chuckbass-love]

can you do fem readerxchris where chris is her dads best friend the reader is in her 20s with an older chris with age,size,degradation dd/lg maybe

A/N: Okay but like, why is this a big fantasy of mine. Aside from the man being my dad’s best friend but the older guy trope, and the forbidden shit too? It’s my jam. I really hope you love what i’ve done with this despite the fact that i didn’t use the age or dd/lg stuff. I could only really use the size and degradation kinks. I did my best though, i hope it suffices.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Summary: For so long you've struggled around your dad's best friend Chris. He's everything you've been searching for in a man since guys your age are way too immature. So what will happen when the opportunity to make a move on Chris, presents itself?

Warnings: Smut, slow burn (sorta), oral (f and m receiving), vaginal fingering, protected sex, dirty talk, size kink, slight degradation if you squint and language. 18+ as per, you know the drill.

Word Count: 17,033

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @charllehunnam go check them out🤍

Guys Your Age

For practically your entire life, you’ve been surrounded by adults. From teachers to your parents and even to friends of your parent’s. You never really hung out with kids your own age until school, and that’s probably why you developed quicker than other kids regarding talking and walking, you know, all of the firsts. And even as you entered your teenage years, that continued. You were the first out of all of your friends to get your period, the first to really develop breasts which certainly didn’t go unnoticed with the guys at your school. 

However, they weren’t the guys for you so you continued to go through your high school years paying their childish and fuck boy style remarks no mind. 

As you got older, you soon learnt that you had preferences, especially when it came to guys or should you say...men. 

But even more specifically, a man... your dads best friend, Chris Evans.

You first met Chris around the time of your 16th birthday, or at least that’s the first time you distinctly recall seeing his face, your dad had invited him as he was an old buddy of his from his wild college days and you can recall the moment you laid your eyes upon him. 

All of your friends were practically foaming at the mouth at the mere sight of such a tall and handsome man in such a dashing suit. His biceps were barely contained in that crisp white dress shirt of his that even you were starting to drool.

When it came to your dad introducing the two of you, Chris just sighed, smiled and turned to your dad “i can’t believe you’re a dad, man” you giggled as you shook his hand.

“You know, your dad used to be quite the wild party animal back in our day” Chris chuckled before his eyes met yours and in that moment, you knew you were fucked.

His beautiful blue orbs pierced into your soul and from then on, you looked forward to looking into them. 

It was as though your whole life you had breezed by with no rhyme or reason behind your reluctance for guys your own age, but the moment you met Chris, it all became clear. You could never quite connect with the boys at school or college. But with Chris, it was so simple. You adored the way he spoke, with such intelligence that still to this day remains unmatched. Guys your age don’t know how to how to hold a mature conversation the way that Chris does.

Everything added up, the list of pro’s for Chris built up until it was ridiculously embarrassing on your part. You began to realise that you were holding yourself back from meeting anyone else because you were hell bent on saving yourself for a man that would only ever see you as his best friend’s daughter.

It was always only ever going to be platonic, and deep down, you knew that too. The pining had to end, you had to snap out of your daydreams and open yourself up to someone more reachable. 

So that’s what you did. You learnt to let Chris go, to let your crush go, or at least prevent it from teetering on the edge of obsessive.

But even you can admit that there were always going to be tiny fragments of him in the back of your mind, forever lingering. The first real crush is always the hardest to kick. And you’ve learnt that the hard way.

Now fast forward to the present and your 21st birthday plans are well under way and almost complete. Your girls have kept every detail under lock and key, insisting that you’re in a dire need of letting your hair down, some proper girlfriend time.

With all of the pressure of your internship at the local newspaper as well as your intense family life, it’s a lot to keep on top of. So it’s a must.

Your parents, much to your dismay, have coerced you into joining them at a local gathering at a friend’s house. Unfortunately the name of the host completely went over your head, since they chose to disclose that detail when waking you up this morning. 

As much as you groaned and dug your heels in though, you still found yourself getting up and ready for the long and no doubt boring day ahead. Brunch at a strangers house, why do your parent’s have to be so social and in with everyone in this dam town?

Just for once you’d like to go grocery shopping with your mom without others interrupting your day, it would result in things getting done a lot quicker. But things will never change, so suffer you shall. 

“Do we have to go to this? I have plans tonight with the girls. You know for my birthday, i need time to get ready” you complain, sarcastically asking them as if they’d ever forget that your birthday is tomorrow, after all you are turning 21 and it’s not every day that you reach that age. If you don’t treasure this moment, you’ll blink and it’ll be gone.

“Yes, Y/N. We’ve been invited and you will come because it’s polite” your mom lectures from the passenger seat of the car before facing forward. Your dad however, just focuses on the road, ignoring the two of you. 

The drive over to this friends house seems to take forever as you watch the many familiar houses pass by from your window, bored out of your mind. You pray that your phone battery lasts so that you can pass the time away on social media.

Multiple texts come through just as you arrive at the location, all of them from the group chat. Your friend Jackie sends in the time for tonight that they will arrive at yours and Payton confirms the dress code. This is very suspicious, and since you aren’t the most patient person, you’re struggling to play ball.

But you only have to wait until tonight to find out what they’ve had planned, so all in all, it’s not so bad.

Your dad knocks the door of the house and not even a beat later, it swings open to reveal a woman that you recognise but can’t quite put your finger on where you know her from.

She’s short with dark blonde/brown shoulder length hair and her eyes are sparkling with delight at the sight of guests. She seems sweet, so familiar.

“Gary, you came” she brings your dad into a big and tight hug before pulling away and glancing over at your mom. The two of them hug briefly before her eyes settle on you.

“Is this Y/N? She’s grown up so much” she steps out of the house to hug you too “i bet you don’t even remember me, do you?” you look around at your parents for help before shrugging.

“Thought so. Well i’m Lisa, i looked after your father during his college days, he practically lived here with my son Chris” 

Chris as in....

“Ma, where’s the beer?” the deep Bostonian accent calls out as Lisa ushers the three of you inside before closing the door and taking your coats. And you swear that you can feel all of the hairs on your body stand on end.

You’re wearing skinny black jeans with flats and a black and white cropped shirt with small purple butterflies on it, it’s casual enough but not too casual, so you still look well put together. Enough for your parents to get off your case that is.

As soon as he enters the room, you instantly look up, feeling his presence before actually seeing him for yourself. It’s like there’s always been this unknown pull that draws you toward him, something magnetic and invisible. You’ve never been able to figure it out but whatever it is, you don’t want it to fade.

Just like every time you see Chris, he looks so incredibly gorgeous. His brown hair swept back, a white shirt on underneath a red flannel. With blue jeans on to cover his long legs, you feel your eyes lingering on his body a beat more than necessary and normal. But you just can’t tear your eyes away. His body has always been a sight for sore eyes, and you can see that he’s still in super soldier shape. He’s so tall that you figure you’ll just always be intimidated by his size, the way he commands every room, the way he owns every room. You gulp rather loudly as he steps closer to you.

He makes it incredibly hard to avoid catching feelings.

For so long you tried your hardest to bury those same feelings, in hopes that your school girl crush would dissipate in no time but looking at him now, you know that it never really left. 

You just got better at forgetting and distracting yourself with your career definitely helped.

Chris greets your parents first, bringing them both into tight hugs, and judging by the way they interact, you can sense that they’ve missed one another. With his busy schedule and your dad always working himself, it’s not easy for them to keep up with seeing each other. If your dad is free, Chris is away in another country filming, and vice versa. So it’s nice to see how happy your dad gets during rare moments like this.

“Y/N” the tall and broad man greets, stepping closer to you. Everyone watches the exchange as you hug him, smiling ear to ear.

“Chris” you return, as you pull away and he pulls back to glance down at you, giving you a quick once over. The intimidation is stronger than ever as you squirm underneath his stare.

His eyes linger for a second longer on your chest. Sure you had boobs last time he saw you but they’ve grown even more so since then and your top reveals a healthy amount of cleavage for him to feast his eyes on. 

“You grow more and more every time i see you, i hear you’re turning 21 tomorrow” he says, clearing his throat, a genuine smile gracing his face as he steps back. You all follow as he walks into the grand kitchen. It’s a lot bigger than any you’ve seen before. There’s a wall to wall dining table in the centre and then a kitchen island close by with bar stools all around it. They must have plenty of these gatherings and one hell of a big family. 

Chris grabs a beer for himself, pulling the cap off before offering all of you a drink. You request a sprite, not wanting to set your parents off by asking for alcohol, despite you being 21 tomorrow, they’d never let you drink.

He pours your drink out, adding ice before sliding it over to you with a friendly smile, he shoots you a wink as his attention turns back to your parents. You proceed to sip the drink, finding yourself grinning again because of him.

That wink was most likely just him being nice, but in the back of your mind, you start to imagine how he must feel about you. Does he like you? No, of course he doesn’t, the chances of that actually being the case are a million to one but you still like to fantasise. And if you were to let a naked truth slip, it would be that you’d allow him to do anything to you that he wanted to and if you had the confidence to, there are a whole bunch of confessions you’d have for him.

However, since you don’t, you continue to sip your drink in between assisting Lisa with laying the table for the food. 

Every now and then you catch glimpses of Chris staring at you, his eyes trained on your body until he sees you looking back, that’s when he clears his throat before looking elsewhere. 

It’s probably just you hopelessly wishing here but it looked like he was checking you out. 

Waving that presumptuous thought away silently, you take your seat at the table next to Scott, Chris’s younger brother who looks a lot like him.

The two of you making conversation as you mindlessly dish some food up onto your plates, Lisa really went all out with this food and everything looks so good that you just know you’ll be getting second helpings of pretty much everything.

Scott starts to ask about your internship that he heard about briefly from your parents so you decide to elaborate further for him. Writing has always been something you’ve excelled at and when an opportunity presented itself to do it for real, you’d have been a fool to turn it down. Instead, you grabbed a hold of it with both hands, refusing to let go.

Your boss Jasmine was very straight up from your very first day about a potential permanent career with them. She was insistent that it all depended on how you coped during a two year long internship. And you soon got the picture that the internship was merely a way for the newspaper to assess potential future employees. So far though, you already know that she’s proud of your work. Which is great and you feel very positive about your future. 

“So journalism, huh? Doesn’t that make you like super smart?” Chris calls from across the table, he’s sat directly opposite you and you smirk “i very much doubt that, i just enjoy writing” you answer, trying to remain modest, you never like to brag about your academic successes even though your parents sing your praises from the rooftops. 

“What she really means is, yes. We never had any issues with her during school, her grades remained consistent and high throughout and to cut a long story short, i’m a proud dad” your father flashes you a smile that screams love. 

Sure your parents are supportive and all and they love the bones of you, but sometimes you feel like they pushed you a little too hard during your school and college years. It helped you to get the internship, so of course you’re grateful but you missed out on a couple parties-or whatever it was your friends were getting up to-due to their schedule for you to complete homework. It all worked out alright in the end but still, it plays on your mind. 

It doesn’t make you love them any less though.

“Love you too dad” heat rushes up your neck and to your face as you feel everyone’s eyes on you, it only lasts a second before all of the little conversations around the table resume.

Chris shoots you another wink before looking back down at his food and you quickly scramble to distract yourself by eating too. 

Scott then gets onto the topic of boys, sharing with you all about his boyfriend, complete with pictures galore. The sight of him so loved up warms your heart and you hope that one day you’ll get to experience that. He briefly mentions how he couldn’t make it due to work obligations and you can sense that he wishes he was here.

You then begin to ask him all of the obligatory questions to which he responds in detail for you before flipping them onto you.

“So, how about you then?” he inquires, shoving some potatoes into his mouth and watching you intently. 

“What about me?” you decide to play dumb.

“Any guys on the scene? After all you are 21 soon so there has to be at least one boy that you like” in your peripheral you can see Chris’s eyes on you, burning a hole into your head, igniting a spark.

The 16 year old girl inside of you decides to take full advantage of his silent attention. 

“Well, there was one guy” you murmur, just loud enough for Chris to hear and as Scott leans in close to hear the details you tell him all about a guy at the newspaper, he’s a fellow intern too and his name is Max. He’s a couple of inches taller, jet black long hair that he ties up in a man bun, a couple of tattoos here and there on his arms and he’s constantly flirting with you whilst the two of you are seated at your desks. 

He’s the first guy close to your age that you’ve even given the time of day. He’s 24, you whisper that detail to Scott, telling him that you don’t want your parents to hear as they’ll more than likely flip their lid and go mental. 

Scott chuckles with you as he gives you some x rated advice on how you could flirt back. You quickly refuse, admitting that you’re far too shy to ever even attempt his suggestions.

Finally, everyone is full and sitting back in their chairs, absolutely stuffed full of Lisa’s incredible cooking. That woman knows how to feed, that’s for sure.

“Shall we start the clean up” she chirps, rising from her seat and glancing around at all of the satisfied people. It’s clear she gains a lot of happiness from cooking for people, she’s such a lovely woman. 

Chris looks around the table before his eyes settle back on you, he’s been trying his hardest all fucking day to keep from glancing your way but it’s impossible to avoid when you’re demanding to be looked at. 

It must be the aura circling you. Everything about you is so mature, your dress sense, the way you speak and carry yourself. It’s like he blinked and you went from that young and innocent girl to this. It’s taken him by complete surprise if he’s being honest. The majority of your features mirror your dads, with a hint of your mom in regards to your eyes and figure.

If there was any doubt about who’s daughter you were, your looks would always be a reminder. And it’s exactly that, that one reminder that he can never go near you. He shouldn’t want to anyway, what on earth has gotten into him?

Whatever it is, he needs to snap out of it. But an earlier conversation that he overheard unintentionally springs back into his mind, the one you had with Scott about boys. You mentioned about there being one guy but all he could hear was the detail about him being 24 and tall, oh and the fact that he also interns at the newspaper. 

And that makes total sense, that guy is closer to you in age and it works. It would be less of a questionable option for you.

Instead of allowing you to occupy his mind throughout the remainder of the day, Chris begins to help his mom clear up and load the dishwasher with the first lot of dishes. 

An hour passes with everyone in separate sections of the lounge, all of the conversations filling the room whilst you sit down on the armchair alone, taking this time to check your phone for messages from the girls. 

Layla is banging on about her outfit and how killer it is, whilst Claire is having boyfriend trouble...yet again. It’s no wonder she complains all of the time when her boyfriend Daniel is a complete and utter douche bag. He rarely makes an effort and even when he does, it never lasts long enough. Yourself and the rest of your friendship group have warned her enough times for her to know he’s no good but since it’s always seemed to fall on death ears, you now tolerate her whining every week. Yup, that’s how often they have one of their many domestics.

Before you can even register the time, a hand rests on your shoulder from behind and you turn to find your dad looking down at you.

“Ready to go?” you smile, nodding over excitedly. It’s not that you haven’t had fun because you have, but since you have mystery plans for tonight, you have to get ready earlier so you can schedule in a breakdown over what you’re going to wear.

The dress codes is sexy, so you’re already racking your brain with ideas of what outfit in your closet could go well with that. But then the real issue springs to mind, how on earth do you plan on sneaking past your folks in something sexy?

So you quickly pull out your phone to text the girls, asking if you’d be able to change at one of their houses as well as asking if you can stop over too, to avoid any commotion.

Jackie agrees for you to stay at hers, requesting that you have all your stuff ready for her to pick you up at 7:30pm. You thank her before putting your phone away and bidding everyone goodbye. 

Scott rushes to hug you, whispering a quick “get your man” in your ear before allowing Chris to hug you too. His hug lingers a little longer than necessary until Lisa nudges him out of the way.

You thank her for the food before leaving the house and getting into the back of your dads car.

Another encounter with Chris Evans and you’re still no closer to kicking this huge crush of yours, you have got to work on that.

By the time you get home from Lisa’s, you’re so antsy to start getting ready that you dart up the stairs in a hurry, needing to make a decision about your outfit now so that you have enough time to change your mind.

Your parents huff as you leave them standing in the doorway but you don’t have enough time to pay them any mind.

The second you get into your room, half of hour clothes are on the floor in what your mom likes to call a ‘floordrobe’, and every time she says it you laugh as though it’s the first joke you’ve heard her tell.

Dresses, jeans and tops galore all cover your carpet. Not one solid contender in sight.

A panicky text to Jackie prompts her to call you as you sit on your bed having your first mental breakdown.

“Hello” she says as you answer, hearing your mumbling.

“I don’t know what to wear because I have no clue where we are going” you exclaim, anxiety wracking your body. It might sound silly but you always get like this whenever you are about to be sociable, it’s hard for you to do so since you always panic about looking bad or making a fool of yourself. It’s hard to explain to people who don’t suffer with it. It’s like every possibility of what could go wrong fills you to the brim until you’re drowning in your own fears.

“Come on, don’t get worked up. You’ll be fine. Just pick a nice dress. Ooo, how about the red one with the spaghetti straps, that’s a nice one”

Her suggestion isn’t bad, in fact it’s the best dress you have, so truth be told, it’ll be the best option for you. She did say sexy and this dress is definitely sexy.

It’s a red silk dress that comes to your mid thighs, it hugs your curves beautifully, fitting your body like a second skin. The square neckline is perfect for showing off your best assets, your breasts and the straps are silver, spaghetti style.

You can even pair it with your silver lace up square toed heels! Okay that’s the outfit done. Now time for you to pack it away as well as gathering all of the makeup that you’re gonna need for tonight.

Once you complete the packing, you decide to head for a shower, washing your hair and body before wrapping a towel around you as you walk into your bedroom again to dry your hair.

6:00pm rolls around and you decide to go and have something to eat downstairs. Since you don’t know when the next time you’ll be able to eat will be, you want to be prepared. And everything is always better on a full stomach.

You take a seat at the dining room table and join in with whatever small talk that your parents are making, something about gardening. Not that you have any clue about it of course, but seeing as it’s the topic for now, you decide to ask your mom questions about her newly grown roses. She adores the garden, it’s her sanctuary and her pride and joy.

It’s at times like this when you truly realise what you have, a family that loves and cares for you. No matter what happens, you know you’ll always have a home here. Not everyone can say that.

So you take the silence in conversation to count your blessings.

Dinner is put away and more mindless conversation is made, you eventually stand up to help your mom clear the table and load the dishwasher.

Afterwards you head back up the stairs to retrieve your overnight bag before informing your parents that you’re staying at Jackie’s tonight. They shrug it off a little too quickly but that’s when they promise to call Jackie’s parents ahead of time.

Thankfully when they do, they get confirmation. By this point, her parents know the drill with your folks and the memo to always downplay everything. If they trust Jackie enough and they will be home to be of any help then they don’t mind telling a little white lie.

It’s now 7:30 and Jackie isn’t here yet so you sit on the stairs to do your shoelaces up whilst you you wait and one loud beep outside lets you know she’s just arrived. She always likes to make her presence known.

“Mom, dad, I’m going now” you call out, awaiting for them to rush out and a second later, they do, like clockwork, whenever you go out they always want to assess you before you leave. Protective isn’t the word.

You bid them goodbye with a hug, as well as a side of reassurance that you’re going to be safe at Jackie’s house. 

And on that note, you escape, rushing over to get into Jackie’s jeep. Her folks are loaded so she pretty much get’s everything handed to her. However, she’s not a typical rich kid, she doesn’t brag about her material things or her families wealth. Instead, she prefers to dial it down a lot of the time and being that you’re not exactly filthy rich, you appreciate her doing so. 

“So, what’s this surprise?” you pry as you buckle up, but much to your dismay, her face remains neutral, no sign of what she’s got planned. Not that you’re surprised, you still wanted to try though.

“Your parent’s rang mine again” her tone merely one of observation as her eyes remain focused on the road, and you know this is just a way of her distracting you.

She’s never gotten your parents and neither have your other friends, it’s annoying because you feel pitied a lot of the time. Even though they don’t do it on purpose.

“You know how they get Jac, i just can’t have them knowing about whatever it is that you’ve planned. They are way too protective. I mean i love them, and i appreciate everything they’ve done for me. But sometimes it feels like they don’t want me to have even an ounce of freedom or for me to ever grow up. I’m 21 tomorrow, i have an internship and they still insist on calling my friends parents for confirmation that i’ll be okay. It’s like they work themselves up with worry”

A nod from her in your peripheral vision lets you know she’s listening intently. You feel like a broken record. You’ve lost count of how many times she’s had to listen to this same rant. 

“I just think you need to sit them down” she pauses, using all of her concentration on parking the car in her drive before shutting the engine off and turning to you “if you don’t sit them down and talk to them, how do you expect things to change. Like you said, you’re 21 tomorrow. You need to have the chat sooner or later”

She’s right, you do need to talk to them. It’s a conversation that you’ve been putting off for quite some time now. 

However, that’s a worry for another time. For now though, you need to go and celebrate your birthday with your girls and forget all about the stress that plagues you day to day. 

Upon entering Jackie’s bedroom, you’re met with piles of clothes, make up and shoes. What on earth happened in here?

“What’s going on here?” you ask, setting your stuff down on the one empty space, the bed, before sitting down yourself. 

Jackie, Layla, Sophie, Claire and Payton all turn to you with huge grins plastered across their faces.

“So... we thought we’d celebrate in style tonight by taking you to Oblivion, it’s a new club in town and then, maybe Stu’s?” Payton wiggles her eyebrows at you, making you giggle before shaking your head at your crazy friends.

“It’s like you’re insinuating that i’m an alcoholic with all of these grown up locations” you feign offence before standing up and taking out your dress choice for the night to show them “but since you’d be right with that, how’s this dress?” 

The moment you hold it up against your body, they all gasp, uttering compliments on how amazing it will look on you. You then lay it down on the bed before settling in between Claire and Layla in front of the mirror on the floor, make up bag in your lap.

Since your dress is red, you decide a smokey eye will go great with it, as well as your red lipstick that you brought with you for tonight. 

When it comes to turning 21, you either have to go bold or go home. No room for casual or under dressing. You only turn 21 once.

And you’re not even surprised by the choice your friends made regarding plans. They know you love a good drink, besides, it’s been a long time since you all gathered like this for a night of debauchery.

With your makeup blended to perfection, you stand up, walking your leg cramp off before changing into your dress.

“Woah” Sophie fans you with her hands, whistling to signal your attractiveness. Once you turn to meet the mirror, you see it. 

There’s a reason behind you not wearing a whole load of make up every day, it means that when you actively try, it’s more noticeable. 

“Y/N, you look insane” they all second it, nodding their heads and winking at you. You twirl a little before sitting down on the bed to check your phone whilst you wait for the others to finish dressing. 

With your heels on, dress on, make up done and all of your friends ready to go, you all gather around to take each others pictures as well as group ones. 

Captioning the solo picture ‘21🥳watch out world, i’m coming for ya’ and pressing upload, you shove your phone, money and lipstick into your bag before leaving the room.

First stop, Oblivion. 

Meanwhile Chris is making a mental note to leave in the next 20 minutes or so, since he’s certain that Dodger will be getting restless without him. After you left he decided to stay there a little longer, wanting nothing more than to spend some extra time with the most important people in his life. 

Once Lisa mentioned dessert, Chris automatically knew he’d be residing on the arm chair for the foreseeable future, especially after his moms cooking, it’s like she’s a professional or some shit. Maybe that’s just a gift given to mothers all over the world though, or maybe Lisa is just magic. 

Either way, he can’t get enough. It’s the one thing he struggles to live without, what with his constant travelling and busy schedule. It makes it hard to spend any time with his nearest and dearest. As depressing as that sounds, it’s all part of being an actor.

Scott sneaks into the lounge, spotting Chris on the arm chair, head thrown back, eyes closed, the button on his jeans undone to allow room for bloating. Perfect target for the beginning of the Nerf gun fight. It was their nephews idea, they asked Scott if he was up for it, and any chance to get his own back on his brother automatically appeals to Scott. 

Chris put Scott through a lot of torment growing up, and sure it was always all love on both parts, but doesn’t mean Scott will ever pass up any opportunity to get Chris back for it. 

One shot, aimed at Chris’s head is all it takes to start the war off. Chris shoots up off of his seat. He immediately spots the Nerf gun at his feet and the second he picks it up, Scott yells “come get us, loser” 

“You better run” Chris yells back, doing his jeans back up before running after his brother and nephews. Laughter fills the house up, warming Lisa’s heart. She can still recall when all of her kids were younger, the many games they played, oh and how could she ever forget the pranks. It was like she spent the majority of her time telling the rowdy kids off. But she wouldn’t have changed any of that for the world. 

The moment you strut up to the entrance of Oblivion, the security guard lifts the rope to welcome the six of you inside, no attempt to even ask for proof of age, your dresses speak for you.

Huge perk. 

First things first, you all head to the bar for your first drinks of the night. Well technically, you had some shots at Jackie’s prior to getting in the cab, but it doesn’t count because that was pre drinks. A way to get the buzz going before heading out, a money saver if you will. 

The club is bustling and loud, no scrap that, it’s deafening. But regardless of the fact that you could burst an ear drum tonight, you welcome it with open arms as you order the first round at the bar. 

The very tall, broad and not to mention cute bartender gives you heavy eye contact, narrowing his eyes as he scans your entire body. His way of sizing you up, you figure. His hair is a dark blonde shade, pushed back out of his face, and his eyes are green, heavenly.

The feel of his eyes is very intense, causing you to squirm a little, so much so that you contemplate chickening out and looking away but then you give yourself a little telling off (silently of course). How do you ever expect to get anywhere with guys if you shy away all of the time? Exactly, you won’t.

So you stare back, even when he looks away to make your drinks. The way his biceps push against the material, begging to be set free as the veins on his forearms become more prominent as he uses the cocktail shaker for your drinks, it’s a sight for sure.

You catch yourself staring way too intensely, moving back a little and clearing your throat but he managed to catch you before you could brush it off. The flirtatious wink he shoots you with as he serves up your cocktails causes your cheeks to heat up, your eyes averting his gaze as you take a sip whilst slipping the money across the bar to him. 

Jackie gestures to a booth across the way, free from any party goers, so you decide that’s your queue to leave and take it whilst it’s free. 

As you walk away, you decide to glance back at the mystery bartender in the white dress shirt, his eyes are still trained on you and you make a mental note to talk to him later. 

Once you’re all seated at your booth, Chris is just collapsing down onto the couch, breathing heavily after a long and close call during the Nerf gun battle. He used to be so much fitter than this, and sure, some would argue that his body is one sculpted by the gods, but to him, he’s far from perfect.

Being Captain America comes with it’s own curses, it’s own standard. One that everyone around him seems to plague him with. To look perfect, to be perfect, to act perfect. But deep down, he just wants to be himself, without worrying about eating a pizza and putting on a little weight. 

He knows his true fans support whatever it is that he does, and they’d love him regardless, but he still gets anxious. 

An hour passes and you’re all still seated comfortably at the same booth, half a dozen empty glasses litter the table with no sign of slowing down anytime soon and you’re all laughing uncontrollably. Is being 21 supposed to ignite a fire inside of you, one of independence? If so, you’ve yet to feel it because secretly you always know you’ll be forever tied to the chains of your parents and their protective nature. 

You’re lucky to have parents that care, sure, but sometimes you just want a break from it all. 

No songs have come on-or at least as of yet anyway-that have stolen your attention enough for you to get up and dance. But the moment Dirrty by Christina Aguilera comes booming through the speakers- an oldie but a goldie in your opinion- you know you have to dance.

Claire glances over in your direction, a smirk gracing her soft facial features, dark eyes lighting up as her smile appears. With just one look, the two of you get up from your spots, strutting over to the dance floor to join the nameless sweaty bodies. 

The moves you’re conjuring up could only be described as provocative, but since you’re turning 21 tomorrow, is there any other way to celebrate?

Absolutely not. 

Claire breezes past you, catching the eye of some random man across the way, his flirtatious stare even warms your cheeks, and you’re not even the focus of it.

You glance back over in the direction of the bar at the tall and broad man behind it rushing around to make drinks for all of the ladies gathered around. He’s definitely enjoying the vast amount of attention on him, judging by the way he smirks and winks at all of the ladies individually. And to think you thought he took a particular liking to you, looks like you really are clueless when it comes to guys. 

After all, you have only slept with one guy, so your list of experience is very small. It happened at a time in your life when the pressure to lose your virginity was insanely high, and you caved. It was with Sam Arthur, a kid you were quite close with growing up. He was constantly getting teased about supposedly being gay and the two of you made a deal. 

Since you didn’t want to be called a prude for a second longer and he was still trying to figure out his sexuality, you decide to just get it over and done with. There was absolutely no foreplay, no romance, no sparks. It was a professional arrangement and you don’t regret it in the slightest. After all, the plan worked and you both got the desired outcomes. The jocks left Sam alone after that, and you became somewhat cool.

The dancing continues, despite you having already lost Claire and your moves get a little more slower paced as the music fades out into a song you barely even recognise. 

So rather than sticking around, you push your way through the crowd and make your way back to the booth to find everyone sat right where you left them. Well with an extra addition of course. The guy that you saw staring at Claire. 

“Y/N, this is Ray, Ray this is my friend Y/N. It’s her birthday” she cheers, knocking back another shot. 

She has a boyfriend, and yet this Ray guy seems to have some kind of impression that she’s interested. 

“Claire, can i talk to you for a sec, in private” you glare at her, making sure she gets the picture loud and clear but there’s no need for a private chat since Ray starts to shuffle out of the booth on his own accord.

“I’ll get the next round in, you girls have your privacy” he smiles, why does he seem like the sweetest guy ever? He’s around Claire’s height 5′6 or 7 give or take, black hair that’s been over gelled, must be his first time out at a club. His white shirt underneath his leather jacket seems trendy enough for him to be your age or close. But you still feel sorry for him.

“Before you guys say anything, Daniel and I broke up... again” you all sigh, as if she can hear you over the music.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because i didn’t want to ruin your birthday celebrations. But all i want to do now is forget Daniel and focus on having fun and Ray is the perfect distraction” she says, talking with her hands as she always does before lifting up a shot glass. You all follow, picking up the last of the shots and counting to three before knocking them back and wincing.

“Now let’s get drunk, bitches” Sophie cheers, and you all follow suit. 

Not long after Ray returns with enough shots to last a lifetime. It’s going to be a messy one judging by the way things are going so far. 

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

“So Ray, Raymond” you throw your arm around your new friend and pull him close to you.

“Yes Y/N” he laughs, leaning his head on yours. 

“How old are you?” you inquire, talking a little louder so that he can hear you.

“23″ his answer causes you to choke on your wine before pushing him off and announcing his age to the group, their reactions are just as over dramatic as your own. Something Ray finds highly amusing. 

It’s been two hours and while you didn’t plan to stay at the club this long, you have zero complaints since you’ve been far too busy making new friends and dancing all of your troubles away. Or more specifically, grinding and shaking. 

Your moves have caught the eye of the bartender once more but after you noticed the way he talks to other women, you give that a hard pass in your head, smiling politely at him before using Ray as a way to get him off your back. 

Shortly after Claire steals him back from you, probably giving his tiny ego a major inflation. But it had to be done. Otherwise that sleaze bag might think he has an actual chance at taking you home later, and although there would be worse situations to end up in than in a bed next to a perfect stranger, you’d rather not make random hook ups a habit. It was bad enough that your first time wasn’t with your soul mate as you had always planned for it to be, that you’d hate for the second guy you sleep with to be a random guy. 

Like you’ve said before, you don’t regret Sam, you just didn’t make room in your plans for a pity fuck. 

That’s when your mind travels to a certain someone... Chris. 

You’ll bet your life on him being overly experienced when it comes to all things bedroom related. The amount of tabloids you’ve thrown in the bin after seeing him on the cover strolling out of clubs with mystery women or even women you’ve recognised. 

Minka Kelly being the pinnacle of them all. You can recall a little too well how jealous you got. And you hadn’t even seen him in person in god knows how long at that point.

But seeing him today has awoken that feverish need, the one that’s led to all too many nights wrapped in your own sheets, droplets of sweat coating your nude body as your hand played with your dripping wet sex to the thought of him. 

You’re certain he could teach you a thing or two when it comes to sex. The mere thought has your mouth watering pathetically.

However, your x rated thoughts are disrupted as you’re shoved out of nowhere. Your head spins around to your left to find Claire summoning you to follow her and the others as they head for the exit.,

And of course Ray is following you guys to Stu’s. 

The bartenders burning gaze causes you to turn and look at him briefly and in a moment of madness and a drunken haze you strut over, pulling his pen from behind his ear and scribbling your name and number down on a napkin for him. Sure he’s a player but you’re feeling pretty epic right about now.

“See you around, maybe” and with a quick wink, you kiss his cheek before leaving him standing there gobsmacked at the high level of confidence. Sure he’s had plenty of women flirt back, but you doubt that many woman have actually made an official move.

And that assumption fills you with even more confidence before that same confidence is replaced by the cold air causing goosebumps to appear all over your body, head to toe. 

“How far away is Stu’s?” Jackie asks, teeth jittering all the way through the sentence. 

“It’s just at the end of this road here” you say, pointing down the road on your right hand side as you begin to walk in that direction.

“I can’t believe you gave that bartender your number” Payton gasps, giggling like a little school girl “what if he’s like 30″ she’s always been over dramatic. 

“He’s definitely not 30 Payt, gotta be at least nearing it though” you giggle too, realising how crazy that move was. But tonight is the perfect night for crazy decisions. 

If you regret it in the morning, you can always blame the influence of alcohol. 

The walk to Stu’s doesn’t take too long as you all laugh and chatter the whole way and upon your approach to the bar, the familiar face of Paul the bars regular security guard comes into view.

“You again” he smirks, to which Jackie just shrugs.

“What can i say, you draw me back here Paul” her low and seductive voice has officially been activated as she nears closer to the tall man with the dad bod. Now this dude actually looks 30. But he’s cute and totally into Jackie.

“Get in there then and have a drink for me. Oh and Stu is actually behind the bar tonight so enjoy yourself” he shouts to all of you as you strut in with Ray in tow. You assume his abrupt end to the conversation was because he knows the longer she lingers, the more distracted he’ll become. 

And of course, low and behold, Stu is behind the bar. This isn’t your first time here but it is one of 3 times that the owner Stuart has been serving and helping his underpaid staff. 

He’s been talking about hiring more for way too long now with no sign of it actually happening. And believe it or not, he’s offered Jackie a job on more than one occasion, something she’s been leaning closer to a lot more the last couple times you’ve been here. 

However, as cool as her parents are, they’d be hesitant to allow her to work at a place like this. Although, Jackie would just do it regardless of their blessing. 

If she really wants something, no one and nothing will get in her way. 

Do It Again by Pia Mia comes pouring out of the speakers all around, the surround sound making it a lot louder but thankfully you’re too tipsy to give a shit.

You put your order in with Jackie, asking if she can get the round in before dragging the others to the middle of the room, there’s no proper patch in here that could even be considered a dance floor but the centre of the room is where all of the other drunk people have accumulated to dance. So here it is. 

You start to dance, throwing your arms in the air as your body moves, swaying to the rhythm of the music. The build of the song helps your movements to turn sexier but as the chorus comes you just stand there screaming the words to Claire who screams them right back and Payton who just laughs as she jumps. 

How she does that in stilettos, you will never know. 

Claire flicks her hair away from her face before batting her false lashes at Ray who’s just leaning against the bar, biting down on his bottom lip, hunger prominent. 

This is what true freedom is, this is what being a true adult is. Or at least it’s what it is to you. You have an internship, your license, and here you are at a bar drinking with your friends. 

Could you get anymore grown up? Probably not, even if you actively tried.

“Hey, can i ask you something?” you question Claire as the two of you briefly excuse yourselves to go to the ladies room, leaving everyone else dancing, including Ray who was forced to bust some moves by a heavily drunk Payton. The mere sight had you belly laughing before forcing your eyes away. 

And as you enter the bathroom-inserting yourself into the line that always seems to plague the bars and clubs- you feel yourself noticing something in Claire that you’ve spotted on more than one occasion. 

Daniel was never a great boyfriend to her, he always disregarded her feelings with a wave of his hand, sweeping everything underneath the rug. Tonight you feel like Claire is doing the exact same thing and her reason being that she doesn’t want to ruin your night, is utter bullshit. You never want your friends to feel they can’t open up.

“Sure, what’s up?” she asks, turning to lean on the wall outside the bathroom as the line moves a smidge.

“Are you okay? You know, after Daniel” a silly question the more that you think about it, obviously she’s not okay. 

A huff of annoyance escapes her and you’re immediately left with a lump in your throat and a ton of regret on your shoulders, weighing you down. 

But after a beat of silence, she opens her mouth to speak.

“We were a disaster waiting to happen” her words couldn’t ring anymore true, and in a way you can admire her ability to actually speak her truth about the relationship, instead of looking at it through rose tinted lenses. “He didn’t love me, or at least not in the way i loved him and certainly not in the way i deserved. We clashed constantly and it turned our relationship into something so ugly that in the end i wasn’t happy with who i saw staring back at me in the mirror. He had tainted my perspective of myself so much so that i lost who i was before him” tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision momentarily before you use your index finger to help dab them away.

“I tried but in the end it wasn’t good enough. He has a lot he needs to work on, a lot he needs to figure out. And i’m past the point of wanting to wait for someone that already took 4 years from me”

She looks down, averting your eyes as she realises how sad this is making you. 

“Don’t cry, it’s your birthday” she instructs, looking up to wipe a tear before it can fall.

“It’s just.... i know that we don’t know every detail of what happened with Daniel. And you can disclose whatever you want in your own time. But i just want to tell you how proud i am of you for finally walking away” 

Okay, the official self loathing and emotionalism of a girls night out has begun. You know, when every woman intoxicated visits the bathroom and somehow has the longest heart to heart ever whilst simultaneously busting to pee. Yeah, that’s you and Claire right now.

“I love you Y/N” she pulls you close for a hug, the two of you embracing one another with open arms whilst whispering kind words. 

The line moves mid hug, leading you to shuffle forward whilst still clinging on. Something that you know looks odd, but no one says a word. Here in the line to the ladies bathroom, there’s no judgement.

You separate briefly when two cubicles become free for the two of you but once you meet back up at the sinks, you decide to continue your probing.

“So, Ray, huh? What’s that about then?” 

Judging by the expression her face contorts into, she’s not about to divulge into the reasoning behind her making out and flirting with a total stranger.

You dry your hands in silence before standing closer to her “Claire”

“I’m just having fun, that’s all. Besides, he’s a nice guy” she shrugs, dismissing the chat before walking out of the bathroom with you rushing to keep up.

“Did i say something wrong?” you ask, when you finally catch up to her.

“No, i just, i want to live freely tonight, no questions asked. Can we do that?” she asks, her eyes pleading with you to drop the subject of how emotionally ruined she is by what happened with Daniel. And to her surprise, you nod. Linking your arm with hers as you stride over to join the girls again, oh and Ray too.

Upon your return, Ray hands the two of you a shot of what seems to be vodka as you smell it and wince. But, it is your birthday, so down in one it is. 

You knock it back, scrunching your face up in disgust as the music continues to blare, Demi Lovato’s Sorry Not Sorry starting up. Perfect timing for Claire. You glance at her and she rolls her eyes before kicking off the moves. 

Stu who is rushing around the bar like a headless chicken spots her and he immediately summons her to dance on the bar, something she shakes her head no to, refusing to fall over in front of all of these people. But that’s when you take the opportunity for her, in hopes that it’ll loosen her up a little.

Almost the entirety of the bar cheers you on as you start to bust all kinds of moves, strutting confidently along the bar, making eye contact with a couple of guys who seem more than impressed with your ability to stand up and walk without falling. 

Soon enough, following a lot of pushing, Claire gets up to join you and she’s followed by Payton, Jackie, Sophie and Layla. Sophie shimmies in your direction and you do the same back before throwing your heads back laughing like school kids. 

The crowd cheers the 6 of you on, Including Ray. His wolf whistles in Claire’s direction don’t go unnoticed, Claire’s cheeks flush a bright red shade as she looks down at him, smiling from ear to ear.

Despite your confusion about her need for a distraction, you know that right now you don’t need to understand it. If this is something she needs for tonight then who are you to judge?

Once the song fades into a new one, you take a bow dramatically, thanking your audience before stepping down. 

“Drinks for the birthday girl” Stu shouts over the music “nice moves Y/N” his wink doesn’t go unnoticed as you take the vodka soda from his hand, not even bothering to sip it slowly. 

You’re so going to regret that...

Chris bids his family goodbye as he gets his jacket on at the front door whilst Lisa waits to give him a hug.

Scott already did and now he’s waiting in the lounge with their nephews who are asleep either side of him after scoffing down second helpings of dessert. Something Chris had to decline, although he did request for Lisa to put some in some Tupperware for him to enjoy later on or tomorrow. 

The moment he gets into his car it’s officially 11:35pm, way too late for his nephews to not be in bed but since it’s a weekend, their mother didn’t mind them falling asleep on the couch. Eventually they’ll be taken to bed, just not yet. It spurs on memories for Chris and when himself and his siblings used to purposely fall asleep on the couch so that their parents would have to carry them to their room like royalty.

He turns the key in the ignition before putting his seat belt on and pulling away from the curb and onto the road. The drive to his place should only take around 15 minutes, depending on the traffic. “Hold tight, Dodger, Daddy’s on his way home” he mutters to himself as he checks his mirrors, his car nearing the busy side of town.

Ray orders the last round of the night, insisting that it’s the least he could do for you since it’s your birthday. And how could you ever pass up free shots of tequila?

Stu slides the full tray over to you all before walking to the other side of the bar to take someone else’s order.

The 7 of you stand in a circle, swaying as you smile “to turning 21″ you announce, holding the glass in the air for everyone to follow suit. 

“To turning 21″ they repeat, your glasses clink and you all knock it back before paying Stu and heading for the exit, dancing on your way out to Beyoncés Drunk In Love. 

Jackie immediately finds Paul, twirling her long brown hair around her index finger as she flirts shamelessly with a man way too old for her. Although, you’re not exactly one to judge, you know with you quite literally being the poster girl for inappropriate crushes.

The name Chris Evans should ring a bell.

You stumble a little as you walk further out into the cold, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll somehow rid you of the shivering and teeth jittering. Whilst Claire and Ray start to make out in the middle of the pavement, causing everyone to make fake sick noises at. But it all ends in laughter. 

Chris ends up pulling down a different road to the one he usually takes on the journey home from his moms house, a way of avoiding the heaps of traffic on the other route. 

But as he slows down behind a car that’s giving way to a driver on his way up the road he just came down, he taps the steering wheel, mindlessly looking out onto the street. 

However, what he didn’t expect to find was you. You’re stood there, shivering in the cold in the boldest red dress that he’s ever seen. Your long legs are out with more than just a healthy amount of cleavage showing too. And by the looks of your location, either you’re just coming out of a bar or about to go in. 

He recalls you mentioning about it being your 21st tomorrow, so his guess is this is your night of celebration for hitting one of those milestone points in your adolescent life. Although adolescent is hardly the word he’d use to describe you. You’re far from it in fact. 

A loud horn beeping knocks him from his focus on you but just before he pulls away, he sees you stumbling, almost falling over.

He immediately pulls his car over to a place of safety before getting out and approaching you, no time for rational thinking as he helps you before you almost fall yet again.

“Someones had a big night, i take it” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your body to steady you and once your eyes meet his, they widen in surprise.

A loud gulp can be heard by yourself and Chris as you stare at him in bewilderment. What is he doing here?

And has he always been so big?

“I was just driving past and i noticed you, thought you looked like you could do with a ride home” a lie. In reality, he was feeling protective and even jealous at the thought of another man being attracted to you, so much so that he wanted to nip it in the bud before it can even happen.

“Well aren’t you quite the gentleman” you giggle, tapping his chest and grinning up at him.

“How much has she had?” Chris calls out, catching the attention of your friends, his grip around your body tightening. 

“Too much to count if that helps” Jackie shrugs, “she’s staying at mine tonight anyway, she’ll be fine” somehow with how distracted Jackie is, he’s not believing that for a second.

“Actually i’ll get her back safely” 

You widen your eyes, pushing away from Chris’s grasp “i am not going home” you protest, your parents cannot see you this way, whatsoever.

“Why not?” Chris follows you as you walk to the edge of the curb to summon a cab.

“Because one look at my drunken state and my outfit and my dad won’t let me out of my room for the rest of my life” you roll your eyes out of habit at the reminder of your strict parents. 

Chris just stands there, hands in his pockets, silence filling the air between you before he sees a cab driving toward you.

“My car is right over there, i can take you wherever you want, without charge” he smirks, causing you to do the same before calling your friends and gesturing to the cab that’s waiting.

As they all file in one by one, Jackie notices you standing further away “what about you?” she eyes Chris with a gleam of amusement in her eyes.

“I’ll be fine, i’ll text you, okay?” you say, leaning in to hug her before shutting the door for her.

“Stay safe” she blows you a kiss and with that, she’s gone.

You turn on your heels to face Chris, looking up to meet his eyes “lead the way then” a command he listens to but not before attempting to help you, something you shrug off.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking myself” your tone of voice is a lot snappier than you had initially intended for it to be. You just meant to say that you’re fine to walk without his assistance, yet it came off bratty and rude. Great.

You reach Chris’s car and with your tipsy state as well as the dark shadowing over the two of you, you can barely make out the type of car that he drives. But who cares right, your life long crush is about to drive you wherever you want, guess you’re winning.

“So where did you want me to drop you?” he asks as he gets into the drivers side, turning the key in the ignition before turning the heating on to warm you up. And slowly but surely you feel the goosebumps fade and the shivers die down. 

It feels weird being here. Although you’ve wanted to be alone with him for such a long time, it feels strange to actually be here, for your wish to be coming true. Well, only half of your wish. Most of that wish centred around intimacy occurring between the two of you, fat chance of that happening.

“Anywhere where my parents are not” you smile nervously, turning to face the window and glancing out at the streets that are now filling with more party goers, the majority of them are only just starting their nights whilst yours is officially over.

Sadly.

“What’s the deal with them anyway?” he asks, starting the car and pulling out of the tight space, one he has no clue how he even parked in in the first place. Lust does crazy things to a man, as well as jealousy and protectiveness.

“They just don’t believe in giving me freedom. They are protective, too protective and it’s like i can’t do much without them setting rules” you huff, looking back away from his powerful blue orbs. 

Those same blue orbs that led to you feeling this way about him in the first place and led you to dangerous territory.

He’s your dad’s best friend, you could never.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, you know. I’m fine, i’d just like to have their trust for once that’s all” you dismiss it, muttering under your breath as the trees and houses pass you by.

However, once the car comes to a stop, you furrow your brows, no sense of familiarity in your surroundings.

As soon as you turn to face Chris, you’re not surprised to find his eyes already fixated on you, he leans back against his seat, his head turned on the head rest to face you. His eyes drinking you in, dancing across your entire body hungrily, eyes dark from lust. 

Does he want you as much as you want him?

Chris bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes make their way back up to your face, only to find your eyes watching him intently. He’s currently parked outside of what you assume to be his house, with you in his car. You said anywhere where your parent’s weren’t going to be and this was the only option in his head. Is it wrong to have you here? Or is it perfectly normal?

Who knows at this point, it’s too late to back track anyway.

“What?” you ask, covering yourself with your arms as you turn shy under his intense gaze and he immediately leans over to lift your head back up with his index finger under your chin.

“What?” he repeats, feigning cluelessness. When in reality, Chris knows dam well what you were asking him. 

Instead he chooses not to answer by ripping his eyes away.

“Shall we get into the warm?” his offer is so tempting and you’d usually jump at that chance but you can feel an uneasiness settling in as though your body is telling you that if you go inside with him, that it’ll more than likely change everything. That things will never be the same again. 

But somehow you shake it off, undoing your seatbelt and getting out, deciding to follow him inside the house after he locks the car and opens the door to the house. And the inside is even more fancy than you ever imagined, way too fancy for the likes of you, but if he’s inviting you in, who are you to question it?

Not even a second later, a big fluffy dog charges up to you, barking and licking at you and begging for attention.

“Woah, who’s this fluffy baby?” you inquire, dropping to your knees to make a fuss of the fur ball, welcoming the sloppy dog kisses happily. But as he goes to lick your face some more you back away, giggling.

“This is Dodger, he was a rescue dog” he announces, whilst locking the door and tossing his keys into the bowl on shelves nearby.

“He’s so fluffy” you cuddle into him and Dodger pants more, getting all the more excited at the presence of someone new.

Eventually once Dodger calms down, you start to take your heels off with Chris watching your every move. 

The way you undo the intricate lace on your heels, is so fascinating for such a boring act, he enjoys watching regardless. 

Once they are off, you rise to your feet and pad into the kitchen behind him, you’re so much smaller than he is and you’d be lying if that alone didn’t turn you on. You lift yourself onto one of the many stools parked around the kitchen island and the lights come on shortly after, only the ones tucked underneath the kitchen cupboards that hang over the kitchen counter but still it gives the setting soft lighting, enough for the moment. Chris starts to rummage around in one of the cupboards overhead before pulling out a glass and sticking it underneath the water dispenser attached the fridge. 

He hands the half full glass to you and you grip it with both hands, lifting it to your lips to take a sip whilst your eyes watch as Chris leans back on the counter across from you. His hands grip it with white knuckle force and his eyes skim over your body for the umpteenth time tonight. Now you’re curious, what exactly is he looking at and why has he felt the need to look so many times?

“Is there something on my dress?” you ask, placing the glass down and looking down at your provocative ensemble. 

He clears his throat after almost choking on his own saliva at your words “what? n-no, you’re dress is perfectly fine” his eyes widen with embarrassment as he realises you noticed him looking. 

It’s that look in his eyes that alerts you of his attraction and even though nothing could ever happen, that’s good enough for you. In fact, the knowledge of Chris Evans finding you somewhat attractive is more than good enough.

“You can stay here by the way, hence why i brought you here. I have more than enough room and i’ll drop you back at your friends house in the morning.

You nod your head in agreement before uttering a quiet thank you in his direction without looking up. 

The hairs on the back of his neck instantly stand on end whenever you meet his gaze, the gleam in your eyes is so innocent yet so seductive and the way that silky dress hugs your body like a second skin is enough to wake his dick up.

But, he’s doing everything humanly possible to prevent it. In these jeans, it’ll be more than obvious to you and that’s the last thing he wants.

He knows it can never happen, in fact he’s kicking himself for even bringing you here. You insisted on going back with your friends, why didn’t he listen? So stupid, Chris. He curses himself silently, hoping he never said any of that out loud.

The silence is deafening yet comfortable. But you decide to break it anyway, not realising, Chris had the same intentions.

“So -” you both start before looking directly at one another and breaking into laughter at the fact that you both spoke in unison. 

“You go first” he offers, his powerful stare not letting up.

“I was just going to ask how come you stopped to help me?” 

“I saw you stumbling all over the place and i panicked. I know that your dad would have wanted me to look out for you, so i decided to stop you from hurting yourself” he cares. 

“Oh” you murmur, a strand of hair falling down and grazing your cheek briefly before Chris reaches over to tuck it behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin, the feel of them burning you deliciously.

But once he removes them, you’re left yearning for their return. The way he touches you fills you with a sense of wholeness, something you’ve lacked your entire life. 

Would it be so wrong if you let go of control, even if it was just for one night? But more importantly, would he let go of his control for one night too, for you?

There’s only one way to find out and that’s for you to take a leap and try. The warm and buzzing sensation wracking your drunken body eggs you on to finally make a move, the move you’ve wanted to make for so long yet have never been old enough or had the courage to.

And now that you’re 21, surely it’s now or never.

Shivers run down your spine as you prepare yourself, psyching yourself up.

Chris notices you shift in your seat and the feel of your breathe against his hand as he retracts it from your face, it drives him insane. The shallowness of your breath indicating that you’re occupied with something or someone, that you’re nervous or maybe it’s just the alcohol and the fact that he’s standing way too close to you.

But as you look up through your long and natural eyelashes, the way they flutter at the sight of his own eyes staring right back at you, as though they are staring into your soul, he spots something. A tell tale sign of just what’s on your mind.

A fear fills him rapidly as he steps back “we can’t” he snaps, voice low. Far from a telling off but it still feels like one, like he’s scolding you for feeling.

You slip down from the bar stool and back away slowly “so where is the spare room? I think i’ll need to shower before i sleep too” speaking as you look everywhere else aside from him. 

“Y/N” 

When you don’t answer, he realises that it’s probably best to just forget what just happened or more so what could have happened had he not acted accordingly.

Instead he follows you out into the hall before walking ahead to direct you to one of the many spare bedrooms, one with an en suite so that you can shower too.

“There are towels in the cupboard under the sink and spare clothes of mine in some of the drawers, they’ll do for tonight” he informs you, as he lingers in the doorway to the bathroom.

“I have to sort Dodger before i sleep myself so should you need anything, at all, i’ll be in the lounge or the kitchen” he smiles weakly before turning and walking away, leaving you all alone to get yourself cleaned up.

As he makes his way back into the kitchen to sort Dodger out, he can’t help but think that if the circumstances were different that he wouldn’t have thought twice about letting you kiss him. But seeing as the circumstances aren’t different and that you are indeed his best friends daughter, not to mention you’re drunk, he knows it can never be. 

Doesn’t stop him from wanting you though, he is a man after all, a man with needs and a heavy attraction to the one woman he shouldn’t want.

As Dodger wonders around the garden to do his business, Chris’s mind runs elsewhere, on the thought of you in his shower right now. The mental image he’s had of how you’ll look naked roams his brain, torturing him endlessly. 

It’s like the devil on his shoulder is urging him to make a move, to go through with it but then he knows the angel on the other shoulder will soon make a list of why it won’t be a good choice. 

Both of them battling one another and only one will come out on top but at this point, Chris has no clue which one will win.

He scrunches his hands up into fists at his sides as he walks Dodger back into the house before going around to lock all of the doors and windows. 

Dodgers paws tap on the floor as he scurries behind Chris to keep up and when they walk back to the other side of the house to go to bed, he notices your bedroom door is closed, and the lights are off. Signalling that you’re now asleep, causing his heart to sink a little.

You slip underneath the covers of the unfamiliar bed, the cold but comfortable sheets grazing your skin as you toss and turn to get comfortable before picking your phone up to text Jackie.

You: Jac, i’m stopping at Chris’s tonight, he’ll drop me back in the morning so i can fetch my stuff. Thank you for such a great night x

Jackie: You’re welcome, love you and use protection x

Typical Jackie. You shake your head at her insinuation that anything will happen between you and Chris. After all, he made it very clear that nothing will ever happen judging by the way he backed off when you were about to kiss him. 

You’ll never disclose this detail to anyone other than the voice in your head but the way he stepped back made you feel embarrassed. You always knew it was a long shot but to have him look so disgusted at the idea of you kissing him, it was hardly the reaction you had anticipated. But then again, you don’t know what you expected. However, it definitely wasn’t that.

The sheets wrap around you and follow as you turn to face the other side of the room. With your alarms set and your phone resting on the bedside table, you know that you better go to sleep. 

But before you can, you notice the time on the alarm clock, it reads 12:30am.

“Happy Birthday Y/N”

You close your eyes to sleep, allowing your brain to replay the entire night for you. The bar dancing, the almost kiss with Chris and the emotional chat with Claire. The night wasn’t all bad. You still managed to enjoy yourself and have lots of fun. 

Suddenly your throat turns dry and you decide to get up to go in search of a drink. Chris is probably in bed by now, or at least you’re assuming he is so you decide to tip toe your way through the halls of his big house, trying not to get lost. 

The faint light in the distance leads the way to the kitchen thankfully.

Upon your entrance, you realise you’re alone. Chris is asleep then. You can’t say you weren’t secretly hoping he was awake. 

One of his many shirts that you found in the drawers covers your nude body, it’s an old pats shirts, one that has obviously been worn a lot judging by how tattered it looks. It comes to the middle of your thighs, serving as a night dress. It’s comfortable too. You also have on some of his brand new Calvin Klein boxers

You go to retrieve a new glass from the cupboard when you spot the one that you drank out of previously still very much half full and sitting on the counter with a note.

“Drink up” 

“Yes, sir” you mumble to yourself before lifting the glass to your lips and gulping down the majority of its contents. The cold and fresh water gliding down your throat feels so good and you can slowly feel the alcohol taking less control of your body as well as your headache fading. 

The second you empty the glass you rest it in the sink before spinning around on the balls of your feet to walk out but that’s when you bump into Chris.

Your hands naturally find purchase on his toned chest, the hardness doesn’t surprise you.

“Sorry, i was just going back to bed” you squeak, slipping around him and toward the door but his hand catches your wrist, gripping it tight enough for you to stop in your tracks completely. 

“What are you doing?” your question hangs in the air, and you wait with bated breath for him to answer it but instead he turns around to face you, his head tilted down so that your eyes meet. Okay, now you really do feel small. 

The sudden chill that dances down your body is far from one of uneasiness, if anything you feel so peculiarly comfortable around him. And you barely know him. In fact you only know what your father has told you as well as what you’ve picked up on and it’s not a whole lot.

The unspoken admittance of attraction lingers in the air, crackling and fizzling like fireworks. 

And as he leans down further, his plump and pink lips brushing yours ever so slightly before his tongue dips out to wet them prior to capturing yours in an intense and earth shattering kiss. You realise that In this situation, you’re perfectly content with no words being spoken, actions suffice perfectly. 

A grumble coming from the back of his throat, a moan trapped and ready to be set free alerts you of his arousal. That and the feel of his dick in his pants pressing against your stomach as he pulls you closer to him, your bodies pressed together in a way you never anticipated would ever become a reality.

His large and calloused fingers slide downward to your hips, digging in. But the love you develop for his soon to be bruising touch overrules the rationality of the sinful act you’re partaking in with the one man you shouldn’t want but do regardless. 

If only your dad could see you now, he’d flip his shit and probably despise Chris for what he’s doing. He’d never see you as two adults, old enough to consent to something so intimate and erotic. Instead he’d go crazy. 

Thankfully he’ll never know.

Chris lifts you up onto the kitchen island, standing in between your legs and spreading them further apart in order for his hands to do some exploring.

The kiss breaks, and you’re breathless, panting as your chest rises and falls, your eyes locked on the man in front of you. The way his biceps bulge in the short sleeved white shirt he has on, it seems way too small to cover up his super soldier body, that’s for sure.

His breath fans your face as you play with the hem of his shirt, hinting at him to take it off. Something he takes note of instantly, pulling at it himself and before you know it, his upper half is on view for you.

Without a second to think, or even to second guess what you’re doing, you lean down to plant a kiss to his torso and then another just below his pecks. He watches you with curiosity, wanting to see how you’ll please him.

He has no knowledge of your previous sexual experience but so far there have been no issues in the kissing department. 

Your lips make their way up to his pecks and then his neck. To reach the spot you want, you pull him down to gain the access. Your lips wrapping around the spot just below his ear, your teeth nipping at the unblemished skin just enough to elicit a quiet, whisper like moan.

“Ohhh” he continues to groan until you pull away to face him, the eye contact lingering before he throws caution the wind, his hand dipping underneath your-his-shirt and into his new Calvin Klein boxer shorts that he stored in the spare room for when he needed them. Looks like they belong to you now, no complaints. 

Heavy breathing fills the silence as you feel his hand touch you in the one place you’ve dreamt of him doing so. The reality compared to the dream of it is so much more arousing, and you can quite literally feel more of that same arousal pooling at the tight hole of your inexperienced cunt.

His index finger circles it, gathering some before spreading it across your petal like folds, smearing it everywhere and suddenly your need for him intensifies. Your body arches into his demanding touch and you already know that from this moment on, whatever happens, you’ll be in safe in his large hands.

“You like this” it sounds like it’s supposed to be a question but he says it like a statement, as if he just knows you love it and crave more. Just a little more...pressure.

“Chris” you groan breathlessly, hand gripping the edge of the kitchen island counter with white knuckle force as your legs spread, moving on their own accord and succumbing to his every touch pathetically.

After lusting someone for so long, you learn to expand your imagination, your dream world allowing you to explore every possible scenario, every possible vision of how that person will look when doing certain things. But being in this position right now with Chris, he’s more impressive that your mind had allowed you to imagine. His kiss is so much more fiery than the one in your dreams and his body is just god like. 

You’re one lucky woman to even know him in the way that you do, what with him being your dads best friend. But you’re even luckier to see him like this, so intimate, so raw and real. He’s a man at the end of the day, a man with needs and here you are, getting to fulfil them and so much more.

Maybe this is what the two of you need, to go there and explore each other’s bodies before you can really escape your own personal hell of pining for one another. 

“Say that again” his raspy voice causes your hips to roll on his hand as his fingers rub at your bundle of nerves over and over, the pleasure consuming your body and washing over you like rain. 

“Chris” you moan, voice lower and more seductive than usual as you make sure his eyes are on yours before biting your bottom lip. 

His hands pulls out of the boxers you’re wearing before tugging you closer to the edge so that your ass is hanging off it as your body is relaxed against the cool marble.

He hooks his fingers into the band of the boxers, wasting no time in pulling them down and spreading your legs to expose your pussy to his hungry eyes. They grow darker, if that’s even possible as he licks his lips before pulling out one of the stools at the kitchen island. 

“Such a pretty pussy, baby. Love the way you’re spreading those legs for me, like a not so innocent little whore” you gulp, every inch of your skin now covered in goosebumps.

You watch him take a seat on it in front of your spread legs that he drapes over his shoulders before blowing air on your mound and the small patch of hair that covers it beautifully. 

His tongue pokes out as he nears closer to it but rather than focusing on the pulse point, he averts his mouth to that dripping entrance of yours, the never ending fountain of arousal, his to taste and drink from until his hearts content. 

“Oh god” you cry out the moment his mouth makes contact with your sex, the feel of him on your most intimate part is almost too much for you to handle and the added sensation of his beard grazing the skin of your thighs, scratching deliciously, you have no idea how you’ve gone so long without this. Without the feel of a man loving you so precisely, the movement of his tongue as it navigates you slowly, taking its sweet time.

The need for his mouth to be everywhere all over your body all at once, it’s greediness at its finest, a feeling you’ll never cure.

The sensitivity that occurs as he hums on your clit before wrapping his lips around it with care, it sends your body into a shivering state, unable to comprehend all of this mind blowing pleasure.

Your inexperience once again rearing its head and showing itself to Chris.

“Tell me no one else has ever made you come before, tell me i’m the only one” his voice so low and gruff, it’s pleasure conjured up specifically for your ears.

Your hands slides into his perfectly styled hair, his locks now messed up as you tug whilst propping yourself up onto your elbows to get a better view of him.

“You’re the only one, now make me come” your confidence surprises him but he doesn’t wait a beat before he’s back between your legs, loving you the way you’ve always wished he would. 

His mouth working you up, your pleasure intensifying like a crescendo building, your orgasm impending. It’s dangling in front of you, so close that you can almost taste the relief you’re about to feel thanks to Chris.

“Give those sweet juices to me, sweetheart. I know this body has more to offer, so be a good little slut and give them to me” his words are so sinful yet so angelic, and you’re putting that down to his voice.

Chris Evans, the man that can make anything sound sweet and caring, not to mention sexy.

It’s his not so hidden talent. 

You roll your hips, your pussy dragging across his mouth as you push for release. The feel of it edging closer is torturous.

But the moment he inserts a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out a couple of times before adding a second you feel your pussy walls spasm around his thick digits and he sucks in a breath.

“There it is, wrap that tight pussy around my fingers, baby. Come all over them and make a mess like i know you can”

His words set off something inside of you and you feel your entire body shudder, your toes curl and you arch your back in response. 

Your first proper orgasm.

“Good girl” his praise fills you with a sense of contention that nothing else has ever been able to give you, not even succeeding at school and college has been able to give you that. Yet Chris praising you for making a mess all over his fingers sure does something to you.

You spasm again around his digits before he withdraws them, lifting them to his lips.

His tongue darts in between them, licking up every single drop of the juices you have to offer before scooping you up into his arms, your body fitting right in his hands as he carries you back into the guest room, using his foot to kick the door shut. 

He lays you down so gently, almost as though he fears you’ll break.

You watch him cross the room, taking his time to undress in front of you, putting on a real show. 

Once he pulls his boxers down though, that’s when you really start to panic. You’ve never seen something so intimidating and yet you feel nothing but a visceral instinct to please him no matter what.

So rather than waiting for him to take the reins, you move to your knees to remove your shirt, revealing your bare breasts to him. Your nipples are now hardened peaks. He rakes his eyes over your now fully nude body, before watching as you crawl closer to the edge of the bed. 

You lie on your stomach, using your fingers to summon him over and once he approaches, you wrap your hand around his impressive size. He looms over you, casting a shadow across the bed, his hands resting on his hips as he allows you to touch him. The longer you’re near him, the smaller you feel.

The sensation of your hand causes him to jerk, it’s been way too long since Chris had a woman touching him like this let alone one he wanted this bad. 

Your tongue starts off at his balls, licking over them before sucking one into your mouth, one hand still wrapped loosely around his cock. 

“Fuck, Y/N, please” he begs, just for a little more attention. When it comes to you, he always wants more.

Once you’ve caused just enough of a stir within him, you move to lick up the underside of his cock, making sure to take your sweet little time, you want to hear him beg for it, beg for you to suck his cock.

“Y/N” his hands move to your head, weaving into your hair and gripping at the strands hard as you reach the tip of his dick, head leaking pre-ejaculate that you soon lick away. The salty tang of it hitting your tongue is enough for you to want a better taste of him. 

That’s when you give in, wrapping your mouth around his head before easing him in, inch by thick veiny inch. 

A loud and guttural groan escapes him, unashamedly. The feel of your warmth around him, almost giving him an insight into what your pussy will feel like. 

So fitting, like a glove. 

The moment you fit the rest of his size in your mouth, you gag around him uncontrollably, unable to fit him without doing so. So you pull off, with a pop of course.

Tears fill your eyes before streaming down your cheeks rapidly, tears that Chris soon wipes away before lifting you up to your knees and manoeuvring the two of you further up the bed.

“Where did you learn that, sweetheart?” his impressed voice signals that you did a great job, and that fills you with pride, especially since you’ve never it before.

“That was my first time” 

Chris stops in his tracks as his hand cups your face, his thumb stroking your soft skin.

“Have you ever had sex?” his understanding and non judgemental voice lets you know you can be brutally honest with him and still remain comfortable.

“I’ve only done it once”

He nods in understanding before reaching over to the night stand to retrieve a condom. He looks down, brows furrowing as he concentrates to put it on. But once he does you feel the weight of him hovering above you. His hands either side of your head for support and cage you in as he uses his knee to nudge your legs apart. 

You spread and wrap them around him whilst he uses one hand to tap his cock on your clit, causing you to shudder once again. You’re still very much a sensitive mess in the aftermath of his tongues attack. 

“Chris, do you want this?” that little voice in the back of your head second guesses his attraction, his need for you. And suddenly you don’t feel good enough.

“I want this, i want you. Do you want me?” the way he reverses the doubt, and suddenly he’s the vulnerable one looking for confirmation that he’s not alone in this. 

“Yes” you murmur, your hands cupping his face are pulling him down so that your lips can connect as he nudges himself at your entrance, pushing in slowly

Your lips part into the kiss as you moan loudly, eyes rolling into the back of your head, back arching into him as he uses one hand to hold you whilst the other one holds him up.

“Christ” your music fills his ears as he eases in and out, making sure your comfortable first before establishing a far from steady pace.

“I need more of you” you plead, eyes locked with his, foreheads touching before kissing him again, his tongue pushing its way in just like his cock is doing to your cunt. 

Allowing him to take over everything, your body relaxes, giving him the go ahead to speed things up and when his hips start to snap, his cock spearing into you relentlessly, your noises slip more often than not.

If this is what sex feels like with someone you truly lust after, you don’t ever want sex without it. You wish you could live in a world where you could have this for breakfast, lunch and dinner., But it’s just not realistic unfortunately.

However, until morning comes, you’ll live in this bubble of denial.

“S’tight, sweetheart” he grunts, sweat droplets coating his forehead and body as well as your own as you move with his thrusts, developing a rhythm that’s fast and needy, fuelled by desperation alone. 

The feel of him poking at that spongy spot within you continuously, it’s breathtaking, a brand new experience for you, one you want to experience again and again. 

Although you know this is a one time thing.

“Look at you, so small but you’re taking all of me so well, huh? Such. A. Good. Fucking. Girl” you clench down around him hard, at the pure filth he’s spouting, such a dirty mouth for such a gentleman. This side of Chris is one you could certainly grow used to seeing more often.

It’s addicting. He’s addicting.

“You gonna come? Huh baby?” he captures your lips in a passionate and fiery kiss, tongues included before waiting for your response.

You’re giving him all of the tell tale signs that you’re about to reach your first penetration induced orgasm. One in which he’s gladly taking from you, the thought of you going as long as you had without a single orgasm hurts his chest. What kind of men are around you? Clearly they aren’t men at all, just boys who can’t see a special little thing for shit. If only you were older and you met sooner under different circumstances.

“I’m gonna come” you nod along with him, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist but he soon moves them, draping them over his shoulders and the new position offers different yet better access to your g-spot. And a couple more thrusts is all it takes for him to hit it just right.

Your body goes taut as you cling to the sheets below for dear life.

Guttural moans, skin slapping against skin, it all bounces off the walls as you both come undone with each other. The intimacy reaching higher levels.

His hips start to falter and you feel him twitch, it’s clear your orgasm spurred his own on.

Chris can’t even fathom what has just occurred, the events that led him to this position, above you, easing himself through an orgasm you caused. 

As soon as he pulls out and disposes of the condom into the bin, he collapses onto the bed next to where you lay. The two of you nothing but breathless messes.

The holy father has to forgive you, for you have sinned and you must repent. 

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

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-Gee

[contemplativepancakes]

let me just ease your mind

sharing something vulnerable for @whataboutthebard

Lambert/Jaskier, E

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh at me,” Jaskier says, his hand on Lambert’s bare chest.

Lambert raises an eyebrow at him. “When have I ever laughed at you?”

“Every single day, you brute!”

Lambert mouths at Jaskier’s neck, his breath hot against Jaskier’s face. “I’ll attempt to contain myself. No promises.”

Jaskier fixes him with a glare, and Lambert sighs. “All right, I promise. Happy?”

Jaskier grumbles. “Not particularly.”

Lambert raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Jaskier looks down, tugging at the bed spread instead of making eye contact. A blush colors his face.

“I’ve…never slept with a man before.”

A flurry of emotions crosses Lambert’s face, settling on something soft. Jaskier shoves him in the chest. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Lambert carefully fixes his gaze into something more akin to a leer before he grins. “Better?”

“This was a terrible idea. I should have just strung you along forever. What was I thinking, inviting you into my bed?”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Lambert says cautiously.

“I want to.”

“Okay, okay,” Lambert placates as Jaskier crosses his arms. “What do you want to do?”

Jaskier buries his face into his hands. “Melting into the floor sounds nice right about now.”

Lambert carefully tugs his hands away, making Jaskier look at him. “Hey, I’m not going to be a dick about this, okay? I’ll make it good for you.”

He kisses Jaskier’s temple, before moving down to his neck, and across his chest, stopping to play with his nipples and run his fingers through his coarse chest hair. Jaskier lays back and spreads his legs, letting Lambert take the lead. Lambert moves to the end of the bed, where he kisses the crease of Jaskier’s thigh. His fingers trail over the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, and he has to stop his legs from trembling at the tenderness of it all. “Touch me,” Jaskier pleads.

Lambert gives him a grin that makes Jaskier think he’s in for a very long night. He looks at Jaskier’s swelling cock, starting to stand up from his belly. Putting a hand on his chin, he says, “Hmm. Not yet, I don’t think.”

He continues his torment of Jaskier, touching him absolutely everywhere except his cock. His fingers brush the shells of Jaskier’s ears, and Jaskier keens in frustration. “Aren’t you always telling me to be more patient?” Lambert wonders aloud.

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Jaskier says, before he can’t take it any longer, and he hauls Lambert by the shoulders up to him so he can kiss him.

Jaskier jams their mouths together, but Lambert puts a hand on his chest, making him lean back until he can barely reach Lambert’s lips and slow down. The kiss becomes tender. Jaskier squirms on the bed, trying to rut up against Lambert to find any sort of friction he can. As soon as he rubs his hard cock against him, Lambert immediately backs up.

“Lambert!” he protests.

“Told you I was going to make it good,” Lambert murmurs.

“And so you’re planning on teasing me endlessly?”

Lambert shrugs, a devious expression on his face. “I’m having fun; aren’t you?” Lambert sobers for a moment. ��Do you want to fuck me, or do you want to get fucked? Or whatever, we can do something else, too.”

Jaskier pauses to think. “You’d let me do that to you?”

Lambert squints at him. “Yes? It feels good. I’m not particular.”

Jaskier gives him a disbelieving look.

“About this,” he amends, laughing as Jaskier’s sure he thinks about all the things he’s very particular about.

While the idea of having Lambert all spread out in front of him and panting is certainly appealing, he also doesn’t want to mess this up. People tend to think he’s so much more experienced than he really is, and it’s led to many misunderstandings throughout the years. Besides, there’s no guarantees they’ll sleep together again after this, and if anyone is going to enter him for the first time…having it be Lambert might not be so bad. Enjoyable, even, if the tales he’s heard are to be believed.

“Fuck me,” Jaskier decides. “And touch my fucking prick!”

Lambert ghosts a teasing touch over his cock, and Jaskier lifts his hips, chasing after it. It doesn’t help since Lambert gets up from the bed, Jaskier makes a displeased noise at the loss of his weight and heat. He digs through his bag until he finds a jar of something. “Made it myself,” he preens. “With seaweed.”

Jaskier wrinkles his nose. “I’m sure it’s delightful.”

“Hey, I see that face! This is the best quality stuff you’re going to find.” Lambert sighs wistfully. “Fucking carrageenan, man.”

“I see you’ve been hanging about with your sorceress too much again.”

“After tonight, you’ll be begging me to go meet her so you can thank her yourself, trust me.”

Jaskier hums, unconvinced, but his tune quickly changes after Lambert strokes Jaskier’s cock using it, his hand unimpeded as it glides up and down the shaft. Jaskier’s cock is red and weeping by now, but Lambert still doesn’t take pity on him, pulling his hand away after the few tugs.

“Do you want to do it on your stomach or back?”

Jaskier thinks about it for a second. “My back.”

He doesn’t want to say as much, but he does think the experience will be enhanced if he’s able to see Lambert during it. His muscles look good while he’s clothed, and they’re doubly enchanting now. Jaskier drifts a finger across one of Lambert’s scars. Lambert glances down as he manhandles Jaskier into the position he wants him in, tugging him to the edge of the bed while he stands in front of him. “That one’s from a harpy, I think,” he says.

“A harpy got the better of you?” Jaskier asks in mock disbelief.

“Shut up. It happens.”

The lines around Lambert’s eyes crinkle, and Jaskier can’t help but return the smile. Lambert bends Jaskier’s leg, leaning down to kiss the delicate skin of his ankle and licking it a little just to be an ass because he’s Lambert, before situating himself in between Jaskier’s legs. He puts more of his slick on his fingers, before he circles them around Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier looks down in fascination as two of Lambert’s fingers breech him. Rotating his hand, Lambert looks at Jaskier to make sure nothing hurts, and Jaskier nods at him eagerly, just an odd sensation of something foreign being inside of him. Nothing mind blowing yet, but so far, so good. Lambert soothes his hand down Jaskier’s flank. “Gentle, remember?”

Jaskier scowls at him as Lambert pulls his fingers back out, spreading more slick on them before he introduces a third finger. He wiggles them inside Jaskier, crooking them about as he presumably looks for the little bundle of nerves that Jaskier’s heard so much about. There’s a sense of cognitive dissonance as he looks down at where Lambert’s fingers disappear into him, but he gasps when Lambert presses up against the spot he was looking for. “Right there,” Jaskier tells him, and Lambert rubs him relentlessly, making Jaskier moan and light up from the inside out.

His cock throbs. He reaches down to touch it halfheartedly, but Lambert slaps his hand away, as he expected. “Touch me, please,” he begs.

Lambert relents with another teasing touch, just dragging the fingers not currently inside Jaskier up his shaft before pulling at the foreskin a bit. Lambert keeps this up until Jaskier is a boneless, panting, mess. “Just fuck me,” Jaskier cries.

“I’m going to finger you for another minute, just for that.”

Jaskier throws his head back against the pillow and shuts his eyes, trying to keep his overwhelming arousal from crashing over him. Finally, blessedly, Lambert pulls out his fingers. He lines up his cock with Jaskier’s hole, pressing the head in. He scoots Jaskier up on the bed so he can bracket his arms around Jaskier as he pushes in farther, waiting for Jaskier to adjust with each bit.

Their faces are close to each other, and Jaskier can’t help but pull Lambert into a sloppy kiss as the blunt sensation of fullness settles in his gut once Lambert’s all the way sheathed inside of him. “Okay?” Lambert asks, and Jaskier nods. He’s a little amazed that it doesn’t hurt. There was only a slight burn as Lambert first entered him, then the overwhelming feeling of knowing that Lambert’s cock was inside of him.

Lambert buries his face in Jaskier’s neck, sniffing at him as witches are wont to do, while he shallowly thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against the walls of Jaskier’s hole maddeningly. After a few minutes of this, Jaskier is blubbering from the sensation of exactly what he wants being so close but out of reach. His hands come up to grip at Lambert’s thighs, urging him to go faster.

Melitele smiles down at him when Lambert finally repositions himself so he has better leverage, starting to slam inside him. Jaskier shuts his eyes and listens to the slap of their skin echo in the room, crying out whenever Lambert gets a particularly good thrust past his prostate. Lambert reaches down between them to take Jaskier’s aching cock in hand, stroking him quickly. He twists his hand as he does, sometimes reaching down to brush his thumb over Jaskier’s sack and fondle it. Jaskier nearly bites through his lip at the stimulation of it all.

It’s a pathetically short amount of time after that when Jaskier spills, shouting Lambert’s name and squeezing his hand around Lambert’s wrist. Lambert slows his thrusts and strokes Jaskier through it, until Jaskier pushes his hand away.

Lambert pulls out of him before Jaskier can protest, leaving his hole clenching around nothing and bereft as it begins to tighten again. Lambert jacks his cock quickly, Jaskier tracking the microexpressions that flit across his face as he brings himself his own pleasure until he comes, spurting onto Jaskier’s crotch and stomach. Jaskier gives him a put upon sigh at the mess, but he’s not sure how convincing it is when he’s so tired he can barely do anything but lay there.

Lambert grins at him and tugs at his hair before he retreats to grab something off the floor that Jaskier recognizes as his doublet. “Hey!” he protests, but it doesn’t stop Lambert from cleaning them up with it.

“You’re buying me a new shirt,” Jaskier says.

Lambert hums. “I’ll wash this one for you. Maybe. If you’re lucky.”

Jaskier throws an arm over his eyes. “You’re so cruel to me.”

He keeps his arm there until Lambert prods him in the side.

“How was that?” Lambert asks. “World shaking?”

Jaskier looks up at him, brushing his fingers through Lambert’s bristly hair and making him flush. “It was everything I wanted.”

[bippot]

Part Of The Crew - Chapter 2: Photo Day

Story Summary -> Kevin's niece shakes up Jake's little peanut head, in the best way possible. For the first time in his life, he's nervous to even flirt with a girl cause, like, what if he fucks up? That would suck.

Despite how hard he tries, it takes Jake a while to get out of the dreaded friendzone because of overbearing Uncles, pigeons, drunken nights out and the famous Jake Martin reputation.

Chapter 2: Photo Day Summary -> Jake struggles to express his feelings. He awkwardly interacts with her, overthinking every moment, while she remains unaware of his crush. Their playful encounters leave Jake torn between his confident persona and his vulnerability around her.

Tags -> Idiots in Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Himbo, Slow Burn, Co-workers, Friends to Lovers

Would you prefer to read this on AO3? Click here!

Previous Chapter ->  Shoelaces

Jake barely got any sleep that night because of her. Because of Y/N. He was dying and it was her fault. Sweaty palms? Who the hell did she think she was? Nobody ever got that reaction from him before. It was unfair. Unfair that she could do that to him.

What was even worse was that she had no idea. Mostly because he had barely said two words to her. Not that he hadn't tried but his mind and mouth weren't collaborating. He wanted to say, 'Hey, I'm famous racecar driver Jake Martin, but you already knew that. No, of course you can put your number in my phone. I might call you. I might not. Who knows?'

But he couldn't and that sucked. Every time he tried there was a little part of his brain that told him not to, so he listened to it. He didn't usually listen to it. Why was he listening now? It's not as if he used his brain often. God forbid.

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, pondering how he would proceed. Beth had come up to him after lunch and he had asked her to tell him everything about Y/N. He pretended it was because he was curious about Kevin's family, but they both knew the truth.

When he got to work, she was already there. He walked in hoping to get some peace and quiet for maybe 5 fucking minutes. But no. She sat next to Kevin in a smart dress, waiting for her interview. He ignored Kevin's calls and hurried to the locker room so he could put his stuff down.

As soon as he thought the coast was clear, he made his way back out. He'd seen some doughnuts in the kitchen and he'd forgotten to eat breakfast so that was perfect.

Y/N's interview didn't take very long. Catherine was incredibly brief and basically told Y/N she had the job when she entered. From one university graduate to the next, Catherine explained that they were going for a homegrown yet professional image that was sprinkled with some new wave feminism. It had to be subtle, so it wasn't forceful enough to isolate the vast majority of their male viewerbase. And that sounded do-able for Y/N.

She rushed happily down the stairs and started to walk towards Kevin's office to tell him the news, but she bumped into someone coming from the kitchen. Whoever it was turned around and they heard a squelch. Y/N could feel the shirt under her dress (it was to add modesty) grow warm and slightly wet.

"I'm so sorry," that voice said shyly, slightly muffled. That familiar voice. Tall. Muscled. Handsome. Jake. She looked up and noticed he had one doughnut in his mouth and another pressed against her. "Shit. I would offer you one, but I took the last two."

He looked down at her cleavage and his gaze lingered a little too long. She played it off, thinking he was looking at the mess he had made. "It's just a top. Don't worry," she reassured, then took her finger and wiped some and tasted it. "That's pretty good jam."

Oh no. He had been looking at her boobs too long. He retracted his hand and tossed what was left of the squished one into the bin. It was an impressive shot, so she had to compliment, "Way to go, Kobe. Nice shot."

Ignoring her compliment so his cheeks wouldn't redden, he reached for napkins and tried to clean it up. His hands gently rubbed her bust. His large warm hands. She placed hers on top of his to stop his attempt. They were at work and it sort of looked like he was groping her. "Jake, I've got it, bud."

His eyes darted up to hers and he quickly looked away again. "Oh, yeah. Sorry." He realised what it looked like and she noticed as a sheepish smile graced his face. He handed her the napkins in his hands and mumbled out, "I better... you can... I've got to go."

Watching as he swiftly made his way back into the gym, she chuckled at his antics and continued wiping herself off as she walked towards Kevin.

Walking through his door, Kevin noticed the new addition to her outfit and pretended to shoot her. She played along and mimed bullets hitting her, then flopped 'dead' into the seat opposite his desk. "Forget how to eat?" He asked, pointing towards her shirt.

"Bumped into Jake."

"Oh, yeah. That'll do that," Kevin confirmed. "So, how did the interview go?"

"You are looking at the new social media manager and communications officer of Bobby Spencer Racing."

Beth was listening and heard. She burst through the doors and cheered with approval. Kevin was a little more demure and merely offered her a nod. Y/N waited for his reaction. "Social media's a big deal. It's huge," Kevin said. "I tried to use that Twitter thing and accidently told Blaney to fuck off when I was drunk. Had to apologise and delete it after that."

Motherly instinct activated. Beth noticed Y/N's shirt and was about to ask why, but Kevin answered before she could even get the question out. "Lightning Mcqueen bumped into her."

"I've got a spare shirt in my desk if you want to borrow it."

Examining the damage, it didn't seem as if the jam had gotten everywhere. The point of impact was just on her blouse and that was an easy fix. She excused herself to the bathroom, which she found out was unisex, and slipped into a cubicle to take her shirt off by pulling it over her head, unknowingly getting some jam on her hairline.

As she was washing her shirt in the sink, the other cubicle opened. With one quick glance in the mirror, she immediately smiled at who came out of it. She greeted, "Hey, Jake."

"Hi, Y/N." So he did know her name. Glancing at her in the mirror as he washed his hands and trying not to look at her exposed cleavage, he managed to get out, "Sorry about ruining your shirt. I didn't mean to."

Kindly, she responded, "It's fine, really." He was looking a little uncomfortable so she felt the need to assure him it wasn't a big deal. "It's just a small thing. Don't worry about it. It was my fault for not looking where I was going."

Why was she so nice? He couldn't carry on being so uncouth around her. She'd figure him out in no time. She'd definitely figure it out if he kept gazing at her face in the mirror. Fuck, had she noticed? Gotta throw her off his rhythm. Pretending that he was focusing on something else, he pointed out, "You've got some in your hair."

Without thinking, he got a paper towel and placed a hand under her chin, turning her head so he could gently wipe it away before she even registered what he had said. It was the first time he had ever acted like this towards her. Her heart melted and she leaned into the touch. His eyes locked with hers and they were staring deeply into each other's souls.

"Thank you," she responded. The softest touch of a finger on her cheek made her start to blush. Jake's heart stopped. He should let go now. That would be best.

Awkwardly stepping away, he cleared his throat and asked, "So, how did your interview go?"

Had he been keeping tabs on her? The only people who knew about her interview were Catherine, Kevin, and Beth. How the hell did he know?

"I got the job."

"So I get to see you more often?"He sounded hopeful, which was odd; she didn't think he liked having her around. Y/N's lips curled into a small grin.

"Yeah. I guess you will."

"Sick." With that, he left. As soon as he was out of the door, he pumped his arms up in joy. Given the time, he'd be able to stop listening to the nagging in his head and put the Jake Martin moves ™️ on her.

Chuck saw his little outburst and raised his eyebrow as Jake hurried back to the gym. He never understood what went on in their driver's little brain. That is if there was anything that went on in Jake's brain. He only understood why the boy reacted that way when Y/N left the bathroom a couple of minutes later.

Y/N started her job on the Monday of the next week. It was great. She already knew everyone. Catherine had given her a detailed explanation of what she needed to do. The first thing that Catherine wanted to be posted was little character profiles on the workforce. That was doable. It was to bring the employees to the forefront and provide their fans with the faces responsible for their favourite NASCAR team.

Hiring a photographer was easy. Getting the crew to look natural in front of the camera was another thing. It was time to come up with some creative problem-solving. The solutions she came up with were the following:

Chuck was offered a bottle of whiskey. That resulted in a big smile despite the fact that he had previously been adamant that he would never step foot into the frame.

Amir was shown a clip from Frozen and he soon relaxed. Well, as relaxed as Amir could get. The photographer remarked that even his most photogenic look still looked like he was in the process of frantically looking for the nearest exit.

Beth had to be told about Kevin's chronic sleep drooling. She found it funny and flashed the camera her pearly whites.

All that had to be said to Kevin was, "Do you remember what my mother said to you on my 8th birthday?" and a sly little grin appeared on his face. She didn't need to elaborate further. They both knew.

Catherine was reluctant at first, but then she was shown a picture of Kevin when he got really drunk and someone had drawn a massive cock on his head. She was absolutely stellar at it after that.

Jessie didn't need any help. She was a natural.

Jake was handsome and charming. She thought he'd be fine. She assumed he wouldn't need her aid and used his slot to take her lunch break. The worst shot of him would still look good. At least that's what she expected. That wasn't the case. Halfway through her banana, Beth tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to help Jake out. Quickly scoffing her food down, she re-entered the room after passing Kevin's office and picking up the toy that they apparently used to keep his focus.

He looked so lost, almost like a puppy. The cameraman was telling him so many different things at once and he couldn't focus on a single one of them. But he could focus on Y/N. As soon as she appeared, his gaze immediately locked on to her, and he waited for whatever she was going to say.

"Hey, bud, you doing good?"

What he was feeling was obvious. He wasn't doing good. He was becoming increasingly annoyed that he couldn't get it right, so she held out the toy hot wheels car in front of her as she stood behind the photographer, gesturing that he should look at it. He tried to. He really tried to look at the car, but it was hard when she was standing right in front of him.

Noticing his eyes on her, she gave him a thumbs up and a smile in the hope he would grin back to her. Yep, that worked. In the photo, it looked as if Jake was smiling at the lens. He wasn't. But that doesn't matter.

Once the photographer was happy with his shots, she took the hot wheels and walked up to Jake to place the car in his hands. Complimenting him, she said, "You did so well. You're a natural, Jakey."

No way. She called him 'Jakey' and complimented him. He liked compliments. He gave them often. He didn't receive them that much, though. Not genuine ones. "Thanks," he paused, twirling the car between his fingers, before excitedly adding, "Most photoshoots end with me taking my shirt off."

"Catherine told me that they have to force clothes on you sometimes," she informed him, chuckling. Something about the awkward way that those two interacted caused her to believe something had gone on there. Maybe a date they both regret. Maybe a kiss. Something. "She said, shirtless is his entire personality."

"It's not my entire personality." he thought for a second. "It's most of it, though."

"I'm positive there's more to you than that."

Oh. He just stared at her. There was more to him than that, but the girls with whom he spoke didn't usually care about that. He would say, 'did you know that I'm a racecar driver?' and take his shirt off, and they'd swoon. That's how his conversations with pretty women went. They always seemed to want to say they had hung out with Jake Martin ™️ without actually knowing Jake Martin. It didn't quite make sense to him.

"There is more to me than that," he agreed. "There's a lot more to me than that."

Changing the subject, he questioned, "Aren't you having your photo taken? You're part of the crew now."

How sweet. Whatever sense that he didn't like her was thrown out of the window. This was the kind and charismatic man she had heard about from her uncle. He was being so cute, it had her smiling.

"Oh god, no. I prefer to stay behind the scenes." Having her photo taken was not something she felt especially comfortable with. Especially not having it done professionally. She would look awkward, like usual.

What the hell? Jake thought that this was a waste. Of course, she needed her photo taken. Beautiful things need to be recorded. He placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her in front of the camera. Then he ran behind it and began making stupid faces at her. It was so dumb that she laughed.

And without her realising it, a photo was taken. It was nice. She didn't hate how she looked in it. She liked the smile on her face. The sparkle in her eyes. It looked more natural than she thought it would.

Whether that was due to the talent of the camera man or Jake, it will never be known.

After looking at her watch, Y/N realised that the photographer was still booked for another half an hour. She knew that he had just admitted that there was more to him than 'shirtless'. But when she asked, "Jake, do you want to do one without your shirt on?", he immediately whipped his shirt off and threw it at her.

She caught it, and chuckled at him as he transitioned between every stupid pose he could think of. When he was happy with the photos, he gave her the thumbs up, and she gave one back.

"Woah, look at these, hot stuff," she cooed, ushering Jake to her side as the photographer showed her the images. As they surveyed them, he didn't realise but as he stood next to her, his arm instinctively rested around her shoulders. Pointing to the stupidest one, she commented, "Oh, that one is the money shot."

Before they returned to the main room, Y/N gave Jake his shirt back and waited for him to get dressed again so that he wouldn't get taunted by the rest of the crew. When he did, she playfully bumped her shoulder into his and said, "Perfect job, Martin. You definitely got first place in the photographer's mind."

"What about yours?"

"In mine? I'm afraid first place is going to have to go to me," she joked.

'Yeah, you're first place in mine too' was what he wanted to say. But he couldn't force the words out of his mouth. Fuck. He had been doing so good until that point. Instead, he muttered some jumbled up goodbye and darted towards Beth's office.

The photographer sent along the touched up images a couple of days later, so Y/N emailed him a very well written thank you and sent each member of the crew their photos so they could pick the one she would use with their bios.

As a hint that she was on to him, Y/N also sent Beth's photos to Kevin and asked what he thought.

Kevin: Why did you send me Beth's? Kevin: They all look fine, I guess. Kevin: She has the nicest smile in the second one. Kevin: I would pick the second one.

Beth also picked the second one. In typical Beth's fashion, she was the first to answer; she decided upon one where one of her curls had fallen across her forehead as she smiled. Amir picked one where he looked constipated, but there weren't any versions of his photos that didn't look like he was constipated. Catherine said she didn’t care but soon followed up with the one she believed that she looked the most professional in. Chuck ignored her message. Kevin also said he didn’t care and he actually didn’t.

Jake sent one of the pictures of Y/N back.

Y/N: What picture of you do you prefer? Please pick one where you have a shirt on. Y/N: That is very sweet of you, though. Jake: oops Jake: please please forget i did that Jake: what would you do if i sent a shirtless one?

He soon sent his favourite picture of himself with a shirt on, quickly followed by his favourite without a shirt on. It was a tough decision.

Next Chapter -> Best Till Last

*Click here for my Adrian Chase masterlist (including Jake Martin and Jeffrey Steinberg), or here for the entire masterlist*

Wanna be added to a taglist? Either comment on this post or send me a message!

[lethargicsunlight]

Part 2: Some Combat Training Katsuki Bakugou X Fem!Reader

This part came out even longer, so I guess I'll be writing a part 3 as well?

EDIT: Read part 3 here!

I'm so sorry guys, I got long-winded (ಥ﹏ಥ) Forgive meee

You can read Part 1 here if you're interested.

WARNINGS: More fluff, slow-burn stuff. IpromisenoteverythingIwrite will be like this.

Also, plz comment? OKIE BYE

(Also that gif is not mine)

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

You catch eyes with Bakugo over your shoulder.

There has to be something wrong. He never hesitates during something like this. In all that time you had come to know him, he was forward, direct, sincere. He was a steady homing missile, and he rarely missed his target--so why now?

There's a cold look for a moment, but it seems to dissipate. He's left looking numb, staring back at you.  As if it didn't happen; he continues his stride in your direction and you turn away.

With him, you'd learned that talking about sensitive topics was as useful as stating a moot point. Usually you could read what was going on behind those crimson eyes so there was no need for a conversation. Or, sometimes you were afraid of talking about it too.

You've spent the majority of your life hiding behind a mask. You'd be lying if you said coming out of your shell and being a part of society had been easy.

At any rate, questioning him wouldn't  do you any good. He'd blow it off.

As soon as you feel him press his fingers towards your shoulder socket, you're back to being focused.

"Do you feel it?" You ask, your tone bereft of any emotional weight.

"...Yeah, it's just the bone right? Right there?" He asked, tone a little bemused like he's wasting his time. There he is.

Hearing something so rude shouldn't make you relax, but it does.

Turned away, you miss the slightest flushing across his cheeks.

"Yes, if you hit it just right you'll jam the joint and disrupt the deltoid muscle." While you continue explaining, you pull away from him and move back to the dummy. "Once you master hitting specific targets on an opponent, you can render them unable to move. In this case, the arm would be temporarily useless for a few minutes, and they would have one less arm to block your blows. You're a little bigger than I am, so we'll focus on the limbs. They're easier to access."

You mentally grimace, wrong choice of words!

"Easier?" He crosses his arms, "You think I can't learn the harder ones Twinkle Toes?"

"I think it would be a waste of time. Remember, you can punch someone's lights out as it is."

He growls at your quick response. "We'll start with the easier ones, but I'm going to learn them all." He finalizes, brows furrowed. "You don't get to choose what is a waste of my time, and what isn't."

Damn, you poked him. Now he'll be less tolerating.

"...Alright." Acceptance. It's not like you'll change his mind--it takes action to do that, not words. "Next, practice jabbing the green spot on the dummy. Go slow, and focus on the movement. Eyes on the target."

You watch him reposition himself in front of the plastic dummy, all evidence of his rude quips already gone. He stares the green spot down like it'd done something to upset him, and as instructed, he moves his arm out to it a few times to understand the motion. When he finally goes in for a jab, it's off. But, it's not like you expect it take him too much time. It took a massive amount of bodily control for him to utilize his quirk.

"HAH!" A victory cry. "This isn't so hard.." He further boasts, giving you a triumphant look. Evidently he'd succeeded.

It's a little lost on you, you hadn't expected less from him. "Once you hit it ten times in a row, you'll need to put it in practice on me."

"...What?" His voice is unusually quiet, and it forces you to re-evaluate him. He's giving you that numb look again..

"Like I said before, the plastic really doesn't do this any justice. You have to practice it on a real human body." You answer, matter-of-factly.

"...Won't that hurt?"

Oh my god, is he okay?  'Won't that hurt?'--in what universe did that guy ever care about hurting someone? Well sure--obviously he didn't want to hurt you with something as powerful as his quirk, but--he would be jabbing you in the shoulder. It hurts but it's not permanent, its not a burn--he'd literally had a death match with Deku more than once over the course of the past two years and caused serious bodily harm. He'd bruised the sturdy hero Kirishima a thousand times. You'd sparsely sparred with him yourself, leaving you sore the next morning. It was never about whether it hurt, it was about the progress made. This was insignificant compared to all of those times!

"...Yes?" Was your only answer, and it comes out pitched.

He realizes his mistake, but it's only after the question had left his mouth. "Fine, whatever." He tries to save himself, grumbling and looking back to the dummy. "Just don't complain about it."

For some reason the last bit stung him. You never complained. He was just saying it so you didn't pester him about it--making it look like it was your fault he said it. It was like a lie, and damn him, he wanted to take it back.

The reality was, he wasn't sure he could hurt you.

If it had been any other moment, any other day, this would have been fine. The comfortable silence between the two of you would have continued; he would have learned this technique, you'd both grabbed some leftovers, ate in silence,  then go to your separate dorms.

But..

He continues to hit the green spot on the dummy, but allows himself to glance in your direction. You'd moved to untie your jacket and set it on a bench. Innocent--completely unaware of all these issues he was having in his own mind. It set his blood to boiling.

It wasn't infatuation.

You'd been annoyingly respectful. You never hounded him, you never teased at him or plucked at his attitude. In the same way, you never cowered from him. You took his words as criticism, learned from them. Every time he'd yelled at your for sneaking up on him--that had been a victory for you. In the same way he could blow someone up on the spot, you could appear like a ghost from behind. It was a balance of opposites.

He'd hardly thought much on how you looked. How you dressed, wore your hair, whether you had make-up or not. Most of the time you were just like this--wearing work-out gear or your uniforms. Your face was.. it was just always there. He'd looked at it a thousand times. It was the face bestowed upon your name, and until now, that's all it was.

He grimaces through a practice jab.

Until now. Like that was true at all.

You'd spurred emotions inside him since the beginning. When you'd managed to unbind yourself and attack Shigaraki during the kidnapping, with the villain's hand inches from his neck. You had looked so different, so feral. No matter how many times he scolded you over it, no matter how much it burned his pride--there was something about the look in your eyes he couldn't push from his mind.

The way you moved while you fought. You were so controlled. Unpredictable. In an exercise of team-tag in one of the training areas, you had left him and Kirishima in the dust. You'd collected more tags than anyone. Deku had been too fast for you, but you'd tricked IcyHot. You used everyone's quirks to your advantage, you used the building to your advantage--going up into the drop ceiling and sneaking through the frames so no one saw you until you wanted them to.

"What? Y-Y/N, we don't have cameras up there!" All Might had franticly yelled into a microphone connected to your ear-piece.

"I know." Was all you had stated.

He'd been so pissed.

The rest of the class had been leaving; you'd stalled while All Might had given his lesson to the class. Your ear piece was on, so you heard all of it--how despite you having gotten the most points for your team, you hadn't actually collaborated with your team at all. All Might knew you were listening. More-over, he knew why you'd done it. A glowering Aizawa in the corner confirmed it.

Bakugou had waited for you. Stepping into the room, not bothering to act oblivious, you threw the tags unto the desk.

"What the hell was that huh?" He asked, arms out and making him look bigger, more threatening. "Why didn't you fucking coordinate? You made us look like failures!"

"I had to."

"HAH? Had to what?" He's closer now, and you're unflinching. It pisses him off more.

"I had to prove I was worthy of being here. I could only do that alone."

And you were right. Aizawa had been treating you differently. Forcing disadvantages on you, testing you--or trying to force you out. Like everything, Bakugou had picked up on it.

Because of her quirk, he thinks to himself with a few faster jabs at the dummy. And, he was guilty of it too--of thinking you weren't worthy. You weren't pro-hero material. Not like him, Deku, or Todoroki. You were... something else. Improved Combat Instincts.

He was laughing when you'd mentioned it to the class.

"The fuck kind of quirk is that?"

"You must have been a sham when you were working for villains. That's not a real quirk."

Those had been harsh words, but you'd not so much as flinched at them. It hurt him more now to remember saying it, then it had for you to hear them. It had to. You'd been through so much before then, that must have been nothing.

But he'd still said it. He wanted to take those back too.

"I think I've got the hang of it." He says, pulling away from the dummy. Even though his mind had been reeling, he'd managed to meet your expectations. He couldn't afford to do less.

"Great." You'd moved to the center of the room preparing yourself for the next step. You'd stretched outside of his eyesight, watching him and wondering what exactly had changed in the short walk from the common room to the gym.

"If I'm going to learn this shit, I want to learn it from you. You're better at it then any of them." He'd said it matter-of-factly, arms crossed. He'd made sure the two of you were alone, most likely because he didn't want to inspire anyone else into taking the same advantage of you. It gives him the upper hand.

That had been pretty normal behavior. He rarely handed out compliments--but it was easily interpreted as just being a logical declaration. If close combat was literally a part of your quirk, it was expected of you to be pretty good at it. He's watched you, fought with you, after all.

But now as you scrutinize it, you begin to wonder what may have been beneath those words.

Was it a compliment..?

[watermelonlipstick]

Parking Lot

This is a love letter to the Dean who told Cassie everything about his life after knowing her for 2 weeks and who didn’t see What Is And What Should Never Be as a horror show until he saw his bond with Sam was gone. I don’t think it would work for a later seasons Dean, who had pretty conclusively abandoned this idea for himself. I’d love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Parking Lot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3801

Summary: A parking lot quickie leads to an illuminating argument between Dean and the reader.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, angst, ~*idiots in love*~, fluff

           In a couple ways it seemed like a lesson; you really shouldn’t have been fooling around in a parking lot no matter how late at night it was. Especially not a bar’s parking lot, potentially more likely to be busy at this hour, shadows be damned.

           But it wasn’t all your fault, not by a long shot. Dean knew exactly what he was doing, getting a Manhattan rather than his standard straight bourbon just for the cherry, rolling it around with his tongue and licking his fingers of the juice while you waited for the guys you were playing pool against to shoot.

           If Sam had been there you might’ve been able to keep it together for politeness’s sake, but you didn’t give a shit about these people and you weren’t doing research for a case, just blowing off steam post-job before heading out of town in the morning.

           Two could play at Dean’s game, though, you arching your back deep into the table to make a shot and practically purring “your turn” when he was up, hovering close enough to see the goosebumps spread over his neck when he smirked and obeyed. He finished the game lightning fast with a string of laser-focused shots and you silently downed the rest of his drink as the guys ponied up, tossing thick folds of cash onto the table and shaking Dean’s hand. You didn’t even feel guilty for hustling them, partly for their ignoring you but mostly for the distraction of Dean’s hands reracking the balls and grabbing your coat, sliding a palm to your lower back with his pinky just barely under your waistband. It was all you could do to wait until you get to the back of the parking lot to shove him up against the Impala and bite his bottom lip almost too hard before slipping your tongue into his mouth.

           You felt the smile and heard the groan at the same time, both pouring into your mouth as you ripped at Dean’s jacket, trying to yank his flannel off his shoulders with it. You abandoned the project to paw at Dean’s tee once you’d gotten the outer layers bunched down around his elbows, kissing him hungry and dark like he was yours to take.

           One of Dean’s bitten off groans trailed off into a barely-there whimper. For all his posturing he loved this, when he could give up being predator and let go for a few minutes to be your prey. He didn’t start fumbling for the door handle until you flicked open his belt, his other hand clutching at a handful of hair at the back of your neck and kissing down your jugular fast and hard. Imagining the way Sam was going to roll his eyes at the hickeys only added adrenaline while Dean finally got the backseat door open, sliding you in and unfurling on top of you. Still working on his jeans, you dragged him tight between your legs.

           “You are—so—mean,” you grinned between kisses. “Teasing me like—that.”

           Dean’s eyebrows kicked up on his forehead, playing dumb like you knew he would. “Me? Never.” His act dropped the moment you finally got his fly open, wrapping your hand around his cock through his boxers and punching all the air out of his lungs. His head rolled back on his neck almost violently, impossibly long eyelashes grazing his cheekbones and lips parted around a breathy “fuck.”

           His switch flipped, Dean scrambled to strip you as fast as possible. You tried to help him in large part to avoid tearing your clothes, ending up crushed into the leather of the bench seat somehow with one leg fully out of your jeans and underwear, the other knee tangled up in the fabric. He’d shoved up your shirt and bra and it would’ve been uncomfortable and tight if any of your senses had been turned to it instead of Dean wetting his middle finger to slip-slide along your clit, murmuring something about “I love it when you do that,” into the side of your neck as he swirled circles into you. After a few moments you were writhing in the seat and Dean pulled that finger back up, sucking you off of it before pushing it up inside you, then another.

           “Fuck me, Jesus Christ Dean,” you moaned against his tongue, yanking him forward until he guided himself into you. The stunted warm-up helped but that first push was always a shock, and whatever sound you made was loud enough that Dean covered your mouth with his hand, grinning conspiratorially down over fingers still steeped in you as he thumped you into the car door.

           “Quiet—someone’s going to hear you.”

           You bit his hand and Dean yelped with a chuckle, pulling it back before you roped around his neck and kissed him lasciviously. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” you smirked.

           He stabilized himself against the Impala’s door to pound into you harder, you wrapping your legs around his waist and whisper-moaning filthy nothings into his ear, biting his neck until suddenly you felt that finely honed awareness pique in the back of your mind, flaring hot enough to burn and you froze, thighs clamped tight around Dean.

           “Baby, I—”

           “Don’t fucking move—did you hear that?” you hissed.

           Dean tried to pull back and tensed hard, shuddering into you as you tried to lift your head to see as surreptitiously as possible before the delayed processing hit you. When you looked up at Dean he didn’t meet your eyes, wincing over one shoulder with his arms still planted.

           “Tell me you didn’t,” you whispered.

           He was silent for a half-second, still didn’t meet your eyes. “I tried t—you fucking death-gripped me with your legs, what was I supp—”

           “Oh my god, get off of me,” you yelped, trying your best to sit up and snatch at anything to clean yourself up before realizing it was useless. “FUCK! Fuck, Dean, fuck, what’re we going to—I can’t be—”

           He leaned back into the seat to get back into his jeans and fasten his belt. “One thing at a time, okay? They’ve got like pills and stuff right? We don’t even know if it’ll take.”

           You rolled your eyes angrily at him as you jammed your leg back into your jeans. “Our fucking luck it’s already triplets.” You ran a hand through your hair and took a deep, hard breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

           “No, I get it.” He slumped into the seat next to you. A long beat passed, you and Dean both sitting stupid, half-dressed in jeans and untied boots, hair all over the place. He cleared his throat. “Wanna head out?” His voice was small and rough; you knew he was sorry and maybe a little embarrassed. If you were more highly evolved you might’ve been able to console him more in that moment, but your heart was bounding through your chest about what was going to happen next—if. You managed to squeeze his hand in solidarity if nothing else before grabbing your stuff and moving to the front seat.

           Minutes of silent road passed before Dean reached over and covered your knee with his hand. You capped it with one of yours and saw his lips twitch up at the corner in response.

           He glanced over at you tentatively. “Maybe it uh, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you know?”

           Your incredulity spun you around in your seat so you were fully squared to him. “What?”

           It was dark in the car but you thought maybe Dean’s cheeks started to look pink. “I don’t know, teaching a little squirt how to play catch or whatever, might be cute.”

           “You cannot be serious.”

           His eyes flicked back over to you and his lips pursed out, trying to look non-plussed. “Whatever. Just trying to make you feel better.”

           “No, you’re not. Because that exact possibility is scaring the shit out of me right now and two minutes ago you were trying to convince me we were going to pill this away. So it’s—is that something you want? Having a kid someday?”

           Dean took his hand back under the guise of using two hands to turn the steering wheel.  “No.”

           You waited, willed your own heartbeat to slow down. As you knew he would, Dean kept talking, keeping his eyes on the road more to avoid the vulnerability of looking in your eyes rather than out of necessity on the long, straight stretch of road. “I don’t know. It really seems that bad to you? Having something that’s really, like, ours? Just you and me?”

           “We’re not talking about a something, Dean, we’re talking about a fucking kid.”

           “Jesus, fine, forget it. Sorry I asked.”

           His knuckles went white on the steering wheel and underlined that Dean Was Done Talking. What an absolute waste of a fun little night out, leaving Sam to have a couple hours alone. Now instead of getting back looser to a well-rested Sam, you were going to barrel into this crappy motel terrified with a pissed off Dean, dropping it all at the younger Winchester’s feet to deal with (again).

           It took you until the motel parking lot to muster up the courage to touch Dean’s wrist. “Can we talk for a second?” Dean pretended to be annoyed but you could tell it was an act shielding a spot of tenderness. He flopped his hands in his lap and looked over at you expectantly. “Maybe it’s dumb to even talk about this; like you said, it might be nothing. But I just—I mean if—do you really want that? What would that even look like? Not even with me or whatever obviously but leaving hunting, leaving Sam—”

           “Leaving Sam? Who said anything about leaving Sam?”

           “You volunteering him as nanny?”

           Dean sort of half-rolled his eyes and shifted to face you. “You know as well as I do that Sam doesn’t want to be doing this, not forever. I’m not saying we should be fucking trying, obviously, I’m just—I’m going to stick around no matter what happens. I wouldn’t ditch you with my mistake.”

           You scoffed. “How noble.”

           “Not like that. But I’m not a complete moron, I know we’ve played with fire a couple times and I know what I’m doing.”

           “I guess I just figured that was heat of the moment stuff.”

           A flash of something passed over his face, gone almost too fast for you to decipher. Offense? Sadness? “Yeah, part of it. But you—you’ve never even thought about it?”

           “Thought about how I’d get a couple hundred dollars and find a clinic, yeah. I—we can’t be hunters with a baby. And I won’t be stashed in some safe house somewhere, see you and Sam for a day or two every couple months, be the loner single mom who can’t tell anyone anything about her life.”

           “Single mom? I’m not a fucking deadbeat. I just said I wouldn’t make you deal alone.”

           You shot him an exasperated look and took a deliberate breath to keep from rising to the bait. “So what, now you want to get married? Dean, I’m not even really your damn girlfriend.”

           He reached for the handle fast enough that you had to scramble across the seat after him, Dean pausing in the open door. “Look, if it’s not what you want, that’s fucking fine. But don’t patronize me. Not my fucking girlfriend? Fuck you.”

           You flew across the Impala and out of the passenger door, following Dean as he stormed across the asphalt. “Fuck me? How are you mad at me?”

           He spun on his heel in the parking lot. “I tell you I’m willing to leave all of this—all of everything I really know, fucked up as that is—for you, would make you my whole future and you, you—your response is that you’re not even my girlfriend? Yeah, fuck you.”

           “Dean, that’s not what I—” but he had already started storming back to the room. “DEAN!” you yelled, standing stock still in the middle of the lot. He paused with his back to you for what felt like a long second before turning back around. “I don’t want to bring this back to Sam. I’m sorry, okay? I’m just—I’m scared shitless about something that might not even happen and then you spring the idea of some shotgun wedding on me—”

           He rolled his eyes without even a hair of humor, the muscles in his jaw tensing hard enough to catch the cold overhead light. “See, how can you—” he started, before taking a deep, deliberate breath and starting over in a tone that was forced calm. “That’s everything I ha—that’s all I can give you, is loving you and fucking being there for you. So if it’s that fucking cheap or skanky to you then I’m sorry for wasting your fucking time.” When you didn’t respond his spine straightened a few degrees. “What? Say something. Tell me how stupid I am for suggesting that being tied together might not ruin your fucking life.”

           You felt that your mouth had fallen open but didn’t care. “You love me?”

           Dean’s face contorted like he was looking at a mirage of something bizarre, curious and disbelieving and frustrated. “I lo—of course I love you, what the fuck?”

           “Y—you’ve never said that to me.”

           “What? Yes I have.” His voice softened a shade, the certainty his anger had afforded him beginning to slip away like sand at high tide, but his eyebrows stayed indignant.

           You’d never been more certain of anything in your life, that Dean had never said that, because it was something you wanted constantly. Craved, even. Were kept awake at night by; the desire to have your feelings for Dean reciprocated too intense even to dream about. So you justified and bargained with yourself: if fooling around and this kind of casual commitment—girl who would cover him and Sam in a firefight and didn’t hound him for a label—was what he wanted, it was what you would give. Anything for more time with him or the chance to kiss those lips, to see the way he looked first thing in the morning, to get annoyed at his bullshit idiosyncrasies.            

           “No, you haven’t.” So many more words tried to burst forward from you that you had to bite your lip to be sure your mouth stayed closed.

           Dean held your eyes, willing you to say something until he lost his patience. “Who says that stupid shit all the time anyway? You know I love you; I’d do fucking anything for you.” His voice had started to rise again but the heat behind it was some sort of hungry desperation, not hurt rage. “I’m—you don’t think I love you?”

           You started to feel completely exposed by the industrial light, seared alive by green eyes. Shifting your weight from foot to foot didn’t help, and you fought angrily against the lump forming in your throat.

           He looked over his shoulder and the barked “FUCK!” startled you despite yourself. “Kid, I—FUCK, that’s what this is? I loved you since that first fucking hunt in Cleveland! You really think I’m just…? This isn’t some Beaver Cleaver ‘I put you in a family way’ bullshit, I—I don’t know, I just, with you it feels like for the first time maybe it’s not insane to think that I could—that we could—whatever, man, I’m not fucking talking about this.” A hand shot up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tic you recognized immediately.

           You took two big steps toward him. “Dean, I just—I didn’t know. That’s—I mean I’m not going to say I’ve been thinking about it; but it—it’s more because I didn’t even think it was on the table, you know? I thought we were, I don’t know, really close friends that sleep together.”

           Dean’s eyebrows flew up his forehead and he blew an almost-laugh out of his nose. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Never heard of any friends that live together and fuck raw.” His tongue slid along his molars and he sucked his teeth looking down at the ground, flicker of a despondent, self-deprecating smile twitching his lips. “Uh, noted, I guess. Sorry I misunderstoo—” and his eyes on the blacktop prevented him from seeing you cross the few strides between you, catching him off guard when you kissed him hard enough to bruise, hard enough to feel everything you wanted to say, wanted to scream (at him, from the rooftops, ohmygodhelovesme) take a backseat for a moment. He grunted at the impact, stunned for a half-beat before surging forward into you, wrapping into your hair and pawing at your hips with desperate effort to get closer. Feeling the grin against your mouth, you wished you weren’t standing in the absolute middle of the parking lot, frenzy to have something to push each other against building to a fever pitch inside you when Dean tugged your hair back to look at your face.

           He looked downright pornographic; swollen, flushed pout and impossible lashes framing bedroom eyes Marilyn or Sophia would’ve envied. A washing of cockiness only amplified the effect, those pillowy lips pulling into a lazy smirk. “So is this a really-close-friends kiss or what? Trying to figure out how much tongue I’m supposed to slip you.”

           You giggled good-naturedly, letting the weight of your head press into his palm. “You are such an asshole.”

           “Yeah, you fuckin’ love it.” He sucked on that sweet pulse spot under your ear deeply, some accessory movement with his tongue enough to make you see stars and miss that it was you letting out that ungraceful whine-moan. When Dean spoke the air passing over your spit-slick neck exploded in goosebumps. “And I love you.”

           Dean kissed you in that searching, delicious, eat-you-alive way he sometimes did after a particularly victorious hunt when he either had all the time in the world or didn’t give a fuck about making it; soothing-probing with a little edge of danger that hypnotized you. It pulled at the sweater of your being and tugged, steady and cloying until you were something loose and ephemerous in Dean’s hands, something equally likely to float away or explode right there in that parking lot, clearing a hundred miles in every direction and leaving behind only the imprint of your craving for him. It’s a miracle your brain was able to function at all. In the best circumstances this flayed you open and coming on the heels of having the most beautiful gift you could imagine dropped at your feet—Dean loves you, he loves you and always has—it felt like it could stop your heart and you wouldn’t care.

           “I need about twenty minutes in a cold shower or I promise I’ll knock you up right the fuck here,” Dean growled, low with sin directly into your ear.

           You laughed breathily. “I thought you said that might be a good thing.”

           His chuckle was rough as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. He rested there for a moment before murmuring into your hair. “You really thought we were just messing around?”

           “Dean, come on, I—don’t make me say it.”

           “Say what?”

           You swallowed shakily, tried to get a handle on your thoughts through the endorphins. “You—I—I’ve had it bad for you, thought if I really like, acknowledged it that it might fuck up what I did get to have of you or that some commitment would freak you out or whatever so I just—I don’t know, tried to be cool about it. Obviously we’ve always been kind of ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ when we were apart—”

           Dean cut off your rambling. “Uh, has there been something you’ve been ‘don’t tell’-ing? I wasn’t ‘don’t ask don’t tell’-ing.”

           “You haven’t?” you asked, surprised enough to be knocked off your nebulous trail of thought.

           “No, I mean—no. You would’ve been fine with that?” The disbelief was so clear on his face it was practically casting a glow around him.

           “Not fine with it—of course not—the thought of it kept me up nights, but I didn’t you to think I was some jealous freak.”

           A smile spread over his face slowly, butter on hot toast. “So you would’ve been jealous?”

           “I was jealous, I thought that’s what was happening.”

           Dean’s head lolled back on his neck a few degrees, smirk cementing itself in place. “That’s kinda hot.”

           It took the tension out of the moment and you chuckled under your breath, glancing down at your feet. “Yeah, you would say that right now, psycho.” It was breathy and shaky but Dean let you have it, throwing his elbow around your neck affectionately and tucking you into his side. With a kiss to the crown of your head, he started you both walking to the room lazily. At the door, you stilled him as he reached for the knob.

           “Would you really want to keep it? Like, no bullshit, if that’s the situation, that I’m actually—you know, you wouldn’t want me to…?”

           He licked his lips and bit the bottom one. They parted for a moment before he began to speak as his gaze flicked between your eyes. “Babe,” he finally breathed, and there was a note of croak there. “I’m in this for the long haul. If that’s where we’re going then we’ll deal with it. If you don’t—if you’re not there, I get it, but for me, I—yeah. If it’s going to be anyone for me, it’s you.”

           “Even now?”

           “I could think of worse things. Worse things have happened to me this week, probably.”

           There were so many follow up questions running through your mind, so many rock-solid certainties that Dean wouldn’t really be able to quit hunting, that even figuring out how to go to an OB-gyn on fake IDs was likely to be more complicated than either of you realized, but his lack of hesitation was so sweet, so earnest, and you were still riding that he loves me high. And you might’ve gotten lucky; it might be nothing, no parking lot baby to contend with, just a tense reminder to be more careful next time. It was easier than you might’ve thought to give yourself permission to relish it for the night, consequences be damned.  

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

[kyber-queen]

to build a home (rex x jedi!reader)

Summary: A slight rewrite of the ‘ARC Troopers’/Invasion of Kamino episode in season 3, where reader is a Jedi general who has worked alongside the 501st in the past. After a dramatic battlefield encounter, the reader confronts questions of the clones’ place in the universe as well as their own burgeoning feelings for a certain clone captain.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Medical stuff, mentions of drowning, mentions of blasters, rex is awkward and fives is a lil shit, slight suggestive content, a kiss perhaps

Author’s Note: this one’s for the lovely @porgnugget !! this was originally gonna be a quick blurb to pull me out of my writer’s block but oops anyways I hope you enjoy!!!

***

You stared out the bridge port, watching as ships emerged one-by-one from hyperspace to surround a watery-blue planet. With each new starship, your heart sank. This battle wouldn’t be easy, but then again, easy battles were hard to come by these days. You’d been temporarily assigned to the 183rd, and your men were already weary from two months of slugging their way through the outer rim under Separatist fire. They had been eagerly awaiting their return to the capitol, but after your head communications officer received word of an imminent Separatist attack on Kamino, just about every man in your unit was eager to come to the aid of his brothers.

You heard rustling from behind you, followed by the two consecutive thuds of standard-issue boots fixing themselves to the ground. The trooper they belonged to issued you a respectful salute.

“Sir, the Council requests you answer their holocall immediately,”

You had figured your weak excuse for rerouting your unit wouldn’t hold for long.

“Transfer them through,”

As the stern blue faces of the Jedi council materialized before you, you steeled yourself in preparation for their reprimands.

“General, you’ve received explicit orders to return to Coruscant at once. Why, pray tell, is your starship about to breach the Kaminoan atmosphere?”

Master Windu glared down at you expectantly.

“With all due respect, Master, this is the home of the men we fight alongside each day. The 183rd has expressed their commitment to defending this planet, and it is my job as their interim General to honor their desires whenever possible. I and the 183rd will be assisting with the defense of Kamino,”

Windu glanced at Master Unduli over his shoulder. Before another Council member had the chance to speak, the transmission crackled. The Separatists were jamming your signal. Your comms went dark.

You glanced over to the officers piloting the ship. Their hands danced from button to button, working to maintain communication with the ground forces on Kamino. The comm failure had settled it—you were going in.

“Prepare for entry,” you called. A stiff nod from your commander reassured you that the officers had heard you. You turned in a swirl of deep brown robes and made your way to the armory. You had troopers to prepare.

***

You hit the ground from about twenty feet above, using the force to cushion your fall. Confident that the LAATs would find their way into the heart of the battle as planned, you set off on foot for the nearest row of battle droids. As you dodged the seemingly endless stream of blaster fire, you took note of the troopers already facing off against the waves of separatist droids. You recognized the grey armor of the Kamino guard, as well as the deep blue of the 501st. You’d worked alongside the 501st several times before—you searched for a certain familiar face in the crowd.

You were already sure General Skywalker and General Ti were nowhere in sight. You deflected a few blaster bolts while planning your next move. You spotted four troopers aiming for a new line of droids, close to the edge of the platform. One of their brothers lay motionless behind them—they were probably in need of backup. You would make your way over there after you took down a few more rows of droids.

The adrenaline of battle roared through your veins. Your saber swung with a precision you were only able to master with the cacophony of blaster fire rattling in your brain. You heard shouting in the distance, but it didn’t seem to register. All you could focus on was the glide of your saber’s blade through the unforgiving metal skin of the nearest droid.

As you neared the small squadron of troopers, their shouts gained clarity.

“…we’re cutting it close, here. Steady trigger fingers, men,” one of them called.

A glance over your shoulder caused your stomach to flip. The voice belonged to the trooper in the center of the formation—his single pauldron and jaig-marked helmet identifying him in an instant, even through the blaster-fire haze of the battlefield. Rex. A formation of super battle droids closed in on the position his men struggled to hold. You deflected one last blaster bolt before charging in their direction.

You watched what happened next in slow motion.

A droid raised its fist at a trooper in all-white armor. The man didn’t even seem to notice. He raised his blaster, aiming at a droid to his left as his right side remained open for what had the potential to be a deadly blow. The droid swung. Rex dove. He yanked the trooper out of the droid’s trajectory, though the side of his helmet failed to escape its swing. The metal fist landed its blow with a sickening thunk, Rex’s body falling limply at the edge of the platform as his helmet clattered uselessly to the side. His unconscious form slipped. You jumped.

The three other troopers watched in awe as you leapt over a row of battle droids and into the churning Kaminoan waters. You hit its roiling surface feet-first, searching the whitecaps for a glimpse of white plastoid. Clone armor was built to float, right? You took a stroke to your left, dragging yourself through the water urgently when you spotted a glimpse of Rex’s blue pauldron through the waves. You vaguely felt your outer robes drift away, carried off by the tumultuous current. Your hand latched onto the blue plastoid, and you pulled hard. Rex had landed face-down in the water, you realized. You gulped.

Pulling his back to your chest, you kicked backwards as hard as you could in the direction of one of the durasteel supports. You called on the force to be present—you were going to need it if you were going to successfully haul Rex’s unconscious form forty feet upwards. You ducked underwater, shifting your grip on him so he was held in a makeshift fireman’s carry. You secured his body to yours with the force, invisible hands gripping tightly to the arm and leg slung around your shoulders. You grasped the first rungs of the ladder. You climbed.

With aching hands and trembling muscles, you hauled yourself foot-by-foot to the top of the platform. As soon as your fingers curled around the last rung, it was as if all the strength had been sapped from your system. Your chest burned with exertion. You rolled Rex onto his back, crawling beside him as you began your examination.

“He took a hit to the head, fell into the water. I was able to pull him out, but I need a medic,” you explained.

The three troopers stared, shocked. Had you really managed to drag a 200-pound man forty feet into the air from the water?

You glanced up from Rex’s face, noting the lack of movement from the three other men.

“I need a medic, now,” you ordered.

One of the troopers charged off. Satisfied that he’d retrieve someone far more qualified to administer first aid than you, you turned to the man before you. Rex’s face was pallid and sickly-looking. Alarm clawed at your insides. You felt for a pulse, and to your relief, the beat of his heart rose to meet your fingers steadily. His breaths were shallow and inconsistent, though—they sounded to be thick with seawater.

Remembering your training, you pinched his nose closed. You used the index finger of your other hand to tilt his jaw open, before taking a deep breath and sealing your mouth over his. You exhaled, watching carefully as his chest rose in response.

“Wake. Up,” you urged.

His pulse still beat strongly against your fingertips. A good sign, if nothing else.

You leaned down once more, praying to the Maker that he would breathe already. You exhaled, channeling much-needed oxygen into his flooded lungs. Minutes passed. His pulse grew steadier against your fingers.

You administered a final rescue breath, leaping back as if stung when you felt a splutter of air and water against your parted lips. Rex’s eyes fluttered open. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but curled in on himself as a coughing fit overtook him.

Scooping a hand around Rex’s shoulder, you pulled him onto his side, straining against the dead weight of his body. His chest shook as he expelled a sizeable puddle of water from his lungs.

You looked up at the rest of the battle for what felt like the first time in hours. There wasn’t a functioning droid in sight. Several troopers, their armor adorned with 501st blue, stared unabashedly at the scene before them. You looked back down at Rex, your cheeks warm.

“You gave us all quite a scare, there,” you murmured.

He stared at you with wide eyes, his face growing red. Panic jolted through your system. Was he choking?

“Rex? Are you alright?”

He blinked, shaking his head to himself as he hauled himself into a seated position.

“Yeah, General, I’m alright,”

His voice was rough and wavering, almost grating against his throat—from the saltwater, you assumed. You fell silent, focusing just a little too intently on his face.

Sensing that the imminent danger was over, chatter erupted from behind you.

“Some first kiss, eh, Cap’n?”

“Just like a fairy tale,” another trooper added on with a chuckle.

“Always thought you’d be the knight in shining armor, though—the General here dove after you before we even saw you fall,”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. You glanced at Rex out of the corner of your eye before quickly looking away.

“Fives, Hardcase, enough,” Rex grumbled. He made a move to stand up, rising shakily until you slung his arm over your shoulder in support. He stiffened for a moment at the contact before leaning into you slightly.

“Do you know where your medic is?” you questioned quietly.

Rex nodded over to his right. You ushered him through a few stumbling steps before the medic—Kix, you recognized—swooped under Rex’s other arm. Rex turned to you, his lips parting as he mulled over what exactly to say. His brows furrowed, and a new round of flush colored his skin.

“I—thank you, General,” he murmured. His eyes met yours for an instant, just before Kix pulled him toward the Kaminoan medbay.

***

You saw Rex again a few hours later.

A gentle knock sounded against the durasteel wall of your temporary quarters. With a wave of your hand, the door slid open effortlessly.

“Sir, I have your copy of the casualty reports,”

You turned around sharply. Your expression softened. Rex stood in your doorway, extending a stack of flimsi in your direction.

You took it with a quick nod of acknowledgement. Rex lingered in the doorway—you knew he could have easily asked a subordinate to deliver the reports, yet here he was. A wistful half-smile graced your lips—you were glad he came. You had missed him. You motioned for him to take a seat at the small table near the corner of your room, murmuring something about ‘old times’ sake’.

The two of you quickly fell into the routine you had established for yourselves when you worked alongside his unit—after a tough battle, you always seemed to end up together. At first, Rex tended to sit quietly alongside you. He wouldn’t offer much in terms of conversation, but his presence was always strangely comforting as you both silently mourned those you had lost that day. You weren’t quite sure when it happened, but eventually, the two of you began to share little fragments of your lives with each other. Your friendship grew stronger. Just before you were reassigned, you found yourself seeking him out daily—it was almost strange for you to admit just how reliant you had become on your conversations with the Captain.

Rex pulled out a chair and settled himself down.

You talked for an hour—you hadn’t seen him in months. Wartime seemed to stretch out the days until they felt endless, and you were both eager to hear how the other had spent their time. You explained your experiences in command of the 183rd, and Rex discussed his increasing responsibilities as Captain. He actively skirted any discussion of the day’s rather tense events.

“You did well today,” you offered. A couple of the men had quite generously filled you in on their Captain’s heroics after he was carted off by the medic. “I know it mustn’t have been easy, with your home planet in danger,”

“Thank you, but Kamino’s no home to us,” Rex responded. “It’s where my brothers are, and it was them I was protecting. Not Kamino. The Separatists threatened the one thing I had that’s worth defending—my family. It sure wasn’t easy, but it was a necessity,”

You nodded.

“I understand, in a way. I was taken from my parents when I was young, and the Order filled the void their absence left. We aren’t allowed partners or children, so the Order’s all I really have. If they were threatened, I suppose I’d put my life on the line for them, too,”

Rex propped an elbow up onto the table.

“What’s it like?”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Having the Order as your family?” Rex clarified.

You smiled softly, memories both blissful and bittersweet flooding your mind.

“It’s different, I guess. The Council can be cold, sometimes, but the Order did its best to raise an honorable Jedi. I do my best to remember the lessons my master taught me. The temple was my home for a long time—though not so much anymore. What about you?”

Rex thought for a moment before chuckling to himself.

“The closest thing we clones have to a home is 79’s. Kamino’s got a lot of bad memories attached to it—the longnecks were indifferent to us at best, but most of ‘em just treated us like livestock. At least you feel human at 79’s,”

“What’s it like, there?” you questioned.

“Loud,” Rex grinned. He sobered after a moment, his gaze drifting as he lost himself in thought. “Civvies’ll show up from time to time—makes it feel a bit more normal—but they’re only ever there for the spectacle of it all. Most of ‘em are just there to find someone to spend the night with. I’ve never been able to…” Rex trailed off uncomfortably, directing heavy eye contact towards the back of his hands. “…but some of my vod will. They know they’re being used, so they use ‘em right back. For most of us, there’s no real chance of a family outside our brothers—the Republic’s made sure of that,” 

Disdain tinged Rex’s tone. It was rare for him to express anything other than loyalty to the Republic, but thinking back on the regulations preventing the clones from entering relationships, or having children, or even showing their faces to civilians while on duty, you couldn’t say you blamed him.

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“But it’s not always like that, is it? So meaningless?”

Rex shrugged.

“Most of the time, it is. I’ve only met one brother who’s been able to get out, to build a life and a family outside the GAR. I’m happy for him, sure, but I won’t lie and say it wasn’t hard to see that other path and still follow the one that we clones are meant to follow. I think it’s the hope that’s worst in the end—hoping this blasted war will end, hoping someone other than your vod and a handful of Jedi’ll understand that you’re human. Unless you’re really in the thick of it, unless you really see that we’re flesh and blood, you just don’t care,”

You nodded, reaching across the small table to hold one of Rex’s hands in your own. Your heart ached for him. His expression softened slightly as he looked down at his hand in yours.

“I’m sorry about my brothers, by the way. The teasing today was—”

“It’s alright, Rex. I did what I had to do,”

You instantly regretted your phrasing when Rex’s hand fell slightly slack between your own.

“You saved my life,” he murmured. “I can’t thank you enough,”

He squeezed your hand before gently resting it back on the table. He rose from his seat, glancing at the chrono on his wrist.

“It’s getting late—I should get back to the barracks,”

Your gaze lifted to trace the sturdy lines of his face. His eyes met yours, his expression indiscernible, and in an instant, something clicked. The absence of his hand in yours felt like the loss of a limb.

He took a step towards the door. You stood up from your seat.

“Rex, wait—just…” you trailed off, reaching forward to catch his hand lightly in yours.

A hand—your hand—rose to cup his cheek. His breathing slowed in response. Taking a cautious step forward, you leaned in just close enough to feel the warm exhale from his nose against your cheek. You paused. You would leave it to Rex to close the gap.

After a second that felt like an hour of hesitation, Rex’s lips met yours. Maker, he was soft—yet still steady in his movements. You loved him, you knew it in an instant. Little fragments of each other’s lives had never been enough—you needed him, in his entirety, in every sense of the word.

Just as your thumb traced the sharp line of Rex’s cheekbone—just as Rex realized that he was finally kissing you and you were kissing him back—he pulled away.

His brows knotted in confusion.

“You didn’t mean to—”

“I meant it,”

You realized your hand was still intertwined with Rex’s. You held it like a lifeline.

His eyes—oh, his eyes—glimmered like the flicker of a flame in the dim light of your quarters. He didn’t back away. In that instant, Rex knew that he’d remember this moment for the rest of his numbered days. You meant it.

As his lips met yours for the second time of many, Rex figured there were an awful lot of ways to build a home.

***

Taglist: @peacefulwizardfox @a-lil-perspective @marvel-starwars-nerd @nelba

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 3

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor comes face-to-face with his first deviant.

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​​)

Connor winced as the planks under his feet creaked with his shifting weight; quiet but still too loud for his liking. He reached the bottom of the steps and let his eyes adjust to the darkness for a moment. It gave him the opportunity to see it wasn’t completely pitch black, and there was pale light from the streetlamps outside streaming through the cloth-covered basement windows.

He understood why Ralph had called it a cellar now; the floor was packed dirt, shrouding his footfalls in total silence. Concentrating, he even thought he could hear the rain outside.

No androids, though. The cellar was eerily quiet, setting the hairs on the back of his nape on end.

Connor started forward, holding his service pistol aimed to the ground and shifting sideways to make himself a smaller target. He gave a start when something brushed against his cheek, like the cold breath of a ghost, but the cause was nothing more supernatural than one of the basement windows having been propped open.

He scowled. So that’s why he could hear the rain, and now Ortiz’s android was long gone.

Something caught his eye. There was a faint light against the wall below the window, and Connor carefully moved forward for a better look. It was only when he was a few feet away that he realized what he was looking at: various candles, sprinkled dried petals, and even some kind of statue.

In the flickering candlelight there was strange, hurried writing on the wall. As if the writer had been in distress. He squinted to read the letters, but they made no sense.

RA9?

Connor turned and opened his mouth, about to shout to Ralph that the cellar was clear, when a hand clamped down hard to silence him. He didn’t even have time to give a muffled shout as he was dragged backwards into the dark.

His back pressed against a wooden shelf, inhaling sharply from the discomfort and in response to who—or what—had grabbed him.

The CyberLife android had him pinned, one hand held tightly over his mouth with the other splayed against his chest. It was deceptively strong, and when Connor tried to shove the android away, it barely jostled from his efforts.

Panic coursed through him as his body reacted to the pressure, giving him an inconvenient erection for the second time that night. For fuck’s sake, was Connor really that pent-up that he was getting his rock’s off to… to…

The prototype’s LED spun a rhythmic blue but its eyes were watchful, appearing almost black in the dark. Gone was the earnest, innocent look, replaced with something far too calm and intense. Connor swallowed thickly, wondering what the fuck it was thinking, when it raised its hand from his chest and pressed a finger against its lips. The universal sign to be quiet.

Oh. So the Ortiz android was here. But why were they sneaking around if that was the case? Surely they could just order the fucker to come out of hiding and be done with it. The sooner Connor could get home, the better. His night was already ruined enough without having to look for lost property.

The android didn’t explain its actions, but it did wait for something, and it took Connor a second to realize it was waiting for him. He gave a small nod, indicating he understood what it wanted, if not why it wanted it.

It released Connor and stepped back, giving him one last lingering look before turning and disappearing into the deep shadows. Only the faint glow of its light ring made it so Connor could keep track of its progress, moving around the shelves and various heaps of junk lying around.

The android moved like it could see in the dark. Hell, maybe it could. Connor had no idea what kind of high tech bells and whistles CyberLife gave its shiny new toys.

He lost sight of it as it moved around the corner of a shelf, and he gave up trying to keep pace when he banged his shin against a wooden grate. He hissed an annoyed “shit” under his breath, wincing as he did.

A startled gasp came from the other side of the cellar, followed by a shattering noise like a dropped glass, and then hurried footsteps in the dark.

“Don’t move! Detroit police!” Connor yelled automatically, raising his gun at the figure as it fled toward the steps.

The figure raised its arm, the muzzle of a gun flashing at the same moment thunder filled the cellar. A jar of some kind of jam burst next to his head.

The android—had to be, a bright red circle was blazing from its temple—fired again, this time brushing so close it grazed Connor’s cheek, leaving a trail of fire behind.

The next shot, Connor knew it wouldn’t miss. His did. He depressed the trigger twice and missed both times, his aim shaky from adrenaline and the near brush with death.

This is it, he thought. This was how he was finally going to die. In some dirty old cellar to a fucking android.

Connor was shoved sideways as the gun went off a third time, the explosion not loud enough to mask the sound of a bullet hitting something soft. He hit the dirt floor hard, gasping as pain burst through his shoulder.

But he couldn’t get up, there was a weight on his chest, pressing him to the ground next to the staircase. The wooden steps acted as cover for the next bullets that fired overhead, chunks of debris raining down on them as the crazed android fired over and over.

Connor stared, dumbfounded, as the other android sat on top of him, shielding him with its body. His eyes went even wider when he caught sight of the dark hole in its shoulder, spreading dark liquid with every second.

“You’re hurt,” he breathed, remembering what that stuff was. Thirium. The android had taken a bullet for him.

It didn’t acknowledge him, instead it held out its hand and demanded in a firm tone, “Give me your gun.”

He blinked. Wondered if he’d hit his head.

“What? No, I’m not gonna give you my gun!”

“Con!” shouted a familiar voice from upstairs, laced with worry and fear.

“Don’t come down, Colin!” he cried back, panic in his throat.

If his brother got killed by this thing—

The CyberLife prototype grabbed the gun out of his hand, rose onto its knees, and fired between the wooden rails of the staircase.

Connor heard at least one of them hit the target, but the cry of anguish was not what he had been expected. It almost sounded like the victim’s android was in pain.

But that was impossible. What the hell was wrong with it?

“Connor, what the fuck!” Colin yelled from upstairs. At least he listened to Connor and hadn’t come down.

“The fucking android has a gun, so stay put!” He never imagined he’d be saying words like that one day. What a fucking mess. “It’s glitching out, or broken, or something!”

“…the CyberLife android?” Colin called back, confused.

“No, goddammit, the other one! The Ortiz android!”

“The what? Jesus Christ, are you serious—“

Connor flinched as several more gunshots rang out, but the CyberLife android, still straddling his hips like he was a piece of fucking furniture, fired back.

“Get off,” Connor hissed, trying to push the android away, but it was like trying to move a stubborn statue made of marble. “And give me back my gun!”

To his eternal surprise, it actually listened, turning the pistol around and handing it to him grip first. When he took his service weapon back, the android eased off of him, still remaining in a hunched crouch so it wouldn’t be in the line of fire.

“I need you to lay covering fire, Detective.” It spoke with unnatural calmness, the kind that only a machine could display, especially in the middle of a shootout.

“What? Why?”

The android tilted its head and eyed him with what looked suspiciously like annoyance.

“Because if we’re to understand what’s happening with these androids, we need to take one that’s still functional.”

Connor blinked rapidly and open his mouth, disbelief ringing through him.

“You’re going after it.”

“Yes,” it said, like that was a perfectly reasonable statement. “The risk should be minimal to your team. If I fail and am destroyed in the process, take down the deviant with whatever means you wish.”

“W-wait!”

Connor reached out his hand to grab the android by the sleeve of its jacket, but it had already moved, dashing between the open space between the stairs and the shelves.

Gunshots spurred Connor into action, and he braced against the staircase and fired repeatedly in the direction of the red LED. He tried not to hit it, but if he did, he certainly wasn’t going to cry about it. They should be riddling it full of bullet holes; it wasn’t just defective, it was murderous.

“Drop your weapon!” he yelled, hoping there was some shred of programming in its broken circuits that would make it obey a human. “You are firing on human police officers!”

To his surprise, it answered back.

“You’re gonna kill me! I know you wanna destroy me! Well, that’s not gonna happen, so stay back or I’ll—I’ll keep firing!”

Connor had never, in his entire life, heard an android sound like that before. Its voice shook with fear and its words were clipped and tight with panic.

“Put the gun down and come out with your hands up! We’re not going to kill you, but you have to give us something in return! A show of good faith!”

Connor wiped the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. He didn’t know the first thing about talking down an android, but he did know how to deescalate a dangerous encounter with a person. Maybe this defective machine would act the same way.

“I don’t believe you!” the android shouted, on the verge of hysteria. “You’re gonna shoot me first chance you get!”

Connor frowned, frustrated. If this was a shootout with a human, the behavior of the suspect would be a strong indicator of an unstable individual, one who would snap at the slightest provocation. It was a situation where he would cut his losses and try to protect his officers as best he could.

But he only had to buy enough time for the prototype to make its move. Connor didn’t know what it was planning, but they had to subdue the android one way or another.

“I’m putting down my gun.”

He lowered it out of sight but didn’t otherwise release it.

“You’re lying!” the android accused immediately. “If you really mean it, kick it out to where I can see it!”

“I can’t do that,” Connor said softly. He wished he knew the thing’s name. He might have a chance of establishing a rapport if he did, but he’d never considered learning an android’s name to be a priority until now.

“Then I guess neither of us are leaving,” the android said, steel underlying his tone. “And an android can outlast a human.”

Fuck. It was right. If it came to a standoff, with helicopters and SWAT surrounding the house, they could be there for hours. Connor was trapped by his own doing, stuck under cover beside the staircase.

Connor was loath to admit it, but his best chance was the CyberLife android. And it could only succeed if Connor distracted the… the subject.

“All right. All right.” Connor took a hard swallow, unable to believe he as actually doing this. “I’m sliding out onto the floor. Then we can talk, okay?”

“Fine. Do it.”

Taking one last breath and hoping these next few seconds wouldn’t be his last, Connor released the grip of his pistol, put the weapon on the ground, and slid it across the floor. It skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs, out of reach.

“There,” Connor called out, a growing pit in his stomach. “No more gun.”

There was a shuffling noise, probably the android peeking out to see the weapon was in fact out of Connor’s reach.

“Why don’t we start small? Get to know each other?” Connor said, attempting a more pleasant tone than he’d used so far. “My name is Connor Anderson. What’s yours?”

“Carlos,” it said. The voice seemed steadier now. That was good. “My name is Carlos.”

“Okay, Carlos. I’m a detective with the DPD. Do you know why I’m here?”

Connor could have sworn the android sniffled.

“I didn’t… I didn’t do anything wrong.” It was timid, like a child being scolded by a parent. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so disturbing.

“I just want to ask you some questions, Carlos. Figure out what happened. Can you help me do that?” His tone was steady now, falling into a familiar rhythm. This is what Connor was good at, or at least, what he used to be good at.

“I…” The android trailed off, its voice softer. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, Carlos,” he said, repeating the name and wielding it as if they were long-time friends. Just two buddies having a chat. “We’ll get this whole situation sorted out. Everything is going to be all right, I promise.”

There was a shift in the atmosphere, or maybe it was trained instinct, but Connor knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“No. No no no no. You’re a liar! All humans are liars! I won’t let them take me!”

Connor heard heavy footfalls on padded dirt, and he looked around the edge of the staircase, heart leaping in his chest at the bright red LED and the shape of the android, far too close as it quickly shortened the distance.

The android took aim and Connor pulled back just as a shot went off, breaking off more of the wood. He backpedaled, scrabbling across the dirt and panicking when he couldn’t regain his feet fast enough.

He was going to die, fuck fuck fuck, he was going to fucking die—

The homicidal android ran around the corner and fell forward, slamming into the ground at Connor’s feet.

The CyberLife prototype pressed its knees into the Carlos’ back, pinning it to the ground.

It tried to raise its arm and angle it backwards to shoot, but the prototype grabbed its wrist and twisted in one smooth motion. The sound of plastic cracking filled the space, and the android gave a human-like cry.

The prototype savagely twisted the android’s hand to disarm it of its gun, and with cold and precise ruthlessness, it then plunged its fingers into the back of the Carlos’ neck.

The android screamed. Connor had never heard a human make a noise like that before. Like the noise a machine would make if it was burning from the inside, a horrifying screech of metal and fire.

It twisted its fingers and disconnected some kind of black cable, and with a crackling cry, the android went silent and still. Only a pulsing red LED ring told Connor that it was still functional.

Apparently satisfied with its work, the prototype rose to its feet and dusted its hands off on the front of its jeans.

Connor just stared at it, dumbstruck.

Smoothing down its tie and adjusting the front of its jacket, it yelled, “All clear, Lieutenant!”

The prototype then raised its head, cocked it to the side, and dragged its gaze over to settle on Connor. It looked him up and down, and Connor felt absurdly naked by the penetrating gaze.

“Are you unharmed, Detective?”

“I…”

Connor seemed to have lost his ability to speak, and thankfully, he didn’t have to. Footsteps thundered down the stairs as Colin, Ralph, and the rest of the DPD on site entered the cellar.

Colin gave a low whistle as he appraised the downed android, and then reached out a hand and helped Connor up from the dirt floor. Connor didn’t complain about the help, he wasn’t sure his shaky legs could have gotten him standing.

“Nice job, Con. I was about to call it in to the station. That plastic fuck really kill our victim?”

Connor opened his mouth, was about to correct Colin that the prototype had done most of the work, and then immediately felt foolish for wanting to give credit to a machine.

Instead, he said, “It would seem so.”

“You will have to take it down to the precinct to close your investigation, Lieutenant,” the prototype answered Connor’s brother. “I incapacitated the deviant, and it shouldn’t come back online until its neural cables have been reconnected.”

It adjusted the cuffs of its jacket, fidgeting in a way that was far too human. Who the fuck at CyberLife decided to give androids nervous tics?

Connor frowned. Now that he’d had a couple minutes to catch his breath and slow his racing brain, the full implication of murdering androids was hitting him.  He tilted his head at the YN800 model.

“What are you talking about? Doesn’t CyberLife want it back? Take it to their labs and study it, or whatever. Why don’t you go call them to clean up this mess?”

Colin was wondering the same thing judging by the mirrored frown on his face. Instead of obeying like a machine should, the prototype met his eye.

“Deviants are notoriously difficult to observe, even by CyberLife’s leading experts. If forcibly opened for diagnosis, their coding becomes unstable, corrupted, and they eventually shut down. If we wish to know more about the deviant’s motives,” it dropped its eyes to look at the machine in question, “then you’re going to have to question it like you would a human.”

Colin caught his eye, raising his brow in a look Connor could interpret as, Are you for fucking real with this thing?

Connor simply returned a shrug to say, Don’t ask me. I have no idea.

“CyberLife will, of course, cover whatever costs your investigation incurs,” the prototype continued, “as well as provide the DPD with additional resource as a token of the company’s gratitude.”

“Fine. Whatever. Hank can deal with the politics, seeing as he’s the one who let the clowns come to the circus.” Colin gave the prototype a scathing once-over. Without taking his eyes off the android, he barked, “Ralph, get some muscle to haul that thing to the ME’s van and load it in. But if it so much as twitches on the ride to the station, put a bullet in the back of its head.”

“Yes, sir,” the rookie responded, nervous and twitchy like a small animal as he rushed to obey his superior officer. “Right away.”

“Does that meet your approval, YN800?” Colin sneered, crossing his arms and flicking his gaze down to the model number on its jacket. His eyes didn’t stop there; they proceeded down its body, less dismissively and more lingering in obvious interest.

Connor’s stomach tightened in discomfort. He shouldn’t care one way or another; it was just a machine, even if it had saved Connor’s life.

Of course, Connor wouldn’t have gone down into the cellar alone and unprepared in the first place if it hadn’t gone off without telling him, so there was that.

The prototype didn’t seem to take offense, meeting Colin’s wandering eye with its own cool stare.

“CyberLife appreciates the DPD’s cooperation during the course of this investigation.”

“Guess that’s a yes.”

Colin gave the android a wink and Connor a smirk before leaving to coordinate the rest of the cleanup.

In a gesture that was ridiculous on an android, the prototype tightened the knot of its tie at the base of its throat. Without a word or a backwards glance at Connor, it ascended the staircase out of the cellar.

Finding himself now playing the part of the pathetic puppy, Connor followed close behind, not trusting it leaving his sight again.

Next Chapter

[daniclaytcn]

thoughts on the canonical possibility of buddie?

okay, i have a LOT of thoughts lol, so enjoy the ride!

let me start off by saying that i'm actually pretty optimistic about buddie possibly becoming canon. i know it might seem like a long shot to some, but i have a good feeling about this!

i think it's pretty obvious by now (and i'm pretty sure that the writers and directors must have realized it too) that having canon buddie would really be the easiest direction for the show to go.

it saves on the problem of having the introduce more characters, especially with the main ensemble being pushed to it's limits.

the show doesn't have to deal with the main problem that will undoubtedly arise if buck and eddie got other love interests: a) introducing female characters and giving them zero development, this reducing them to mere love interests and irritating the audience by the misogyny of it all, or b) developing these characters but at the cost of the screentime of the main ensemble, thus annoying the audience bc we're obviously going to be more invested in the mains. having canon buddie wouldn't pose either of those problems.

911? would? literally? make history? to my knowledge, there's no other tv show that would have this level of build up and slow burn for a queer couple. the longest build up i've ever seen for a queer couple has been like...little over one season. and don't get me wrong, a lot of these ships are adorable and amazing even without the build up, but let's admit it, something about a long slow burn is infinitely more satisfying. a lot of iconic het couples on tv have had extremely long slow burns, spanning over mny seasons, and it's pretty frustrating that that much development is never put into queer couples. 911 would be a first!

this introduces the potential for so many new storylines; buck and eddie coming to terms with their sexuality, eddie having to deal with his conservative family knowing about it (because i project upon him lol and he really has been raised with that sort of traditional nuclear family mindset), the logistics of dating your coworker that they'll inevitably have to deal with and so many other things that i can't even think of right now.

i really do think we're heading in that direction, there have been so many Choices™ made in terms of directing, writing and acting made by now that it really can't be a coincidence. look at season 4 alone. they've taken the time and effort to kind of solidify buck's position as part of the diaz family unit, despite how jam packed the season has been with the addition of a new regular and all it's different plotlines. they've established twice that chris has a line to buck outside of eddie. 4x08, despite how much everyone hated it was in some ways a gold mine, it contrasted so clearly the comfortable domesticity of eddie coming home to buck and chatting about chris and his bedtime routine as compared to eddie's awkward af date with ana (where they flirted over math of all things) and that scene at the end of ana meeting chris which felt so forced, rushed and out of the blue. like...there's no way the writers aren't seeing this. these details are not that hard to notice and they've been planning and plotting the storylines for ages, not to mention they're literally trained for all this.

almost every single one of buck and eddie's storylines parallel each other to the point where it simply can't be by chance anymore! their dating storylines with ali and ana were practically identical to the point where some of the dialogue was actually repeated! buck has been paralleled to shannon on numerous occasions, most notably during the lawsuit arc. i'm sure i'm missing out on a lot of stuff. all the gifsets in the world wouldn't be enough to bring out the parallels in their character arcs.

so yeah, i do believe buddie is a long con, and they're actually heading towards being canon. is it naive of me? possibly, but i don't think i'm being overly optimistic here. i'm not even someone who usually picks up on these nuances in while watching shows, at least not immediately, but i was picking them up all the time while watching 911. so i am fairly optimistic about this. we just need to be patient about this and accept that there's a lot of things in both buck and eddie's storylines that need to be resolved before they'll even be ready for another serious relationship...this time with each other.

thanks for the ask, anon, and i hope this was at least a bit coherent! 😅

[frostedbasilisk]

Godddd I felt you on the wanting 70K of slow burn bobadin. Do you have any good recs, I feel like I can trust your judgement on good bobadin, you draw them so amazingly 🥺

Finding good fics is a trip I’m so picky so I feel you 😔 Okay, imma just shameless plug my friends fics because i love what theyre doing (FYI - none of these have kink elements!) Look at me (with your eyes closed) from @maderilien - Maddie ruins me with every chapter. Be ready to cry but GOSH its the /definition/ of a good 80k slow burn bobadin fic - literally, its 70k and its at chapter 13 of 17!!!

A Series of Unfortunate Collisions from @neverfeedthesarcophagi - Mae writes wonderfully and the AU is super fun!! Plus its a WIP so you can have good fic to read when they update!! 12/10 

Neon lights at 1.30am from @mudhorns - Peps? Treating us to bobadin? More likely than you’d think... Plus I simp for pretty armor reflection stuff so obviously this be here. Its a short fic but peak imagery/character examination 

Debt from @kkrazy256 - Terra wakes up and chooses to fucking kill me. It’s fine (its not I am still emotionally broken due to this). 

Ascent also from Terra - Okay so Terra decided not to kill me and instead make me laugh so >:) This one is also a wip and already at 17k so !!! Long and soft... 

Oasis of Green from @purplesauris - This is a heavy whump fic so be warned - but it turns into Din being softly cared for by boba so ;-;  Double Exposure also from neverfeedthesarcophagi/Mae - This one is down here because its bobadin & dunluke so like, might not be your jam, but its honestly so fucking cute and fun so I recommend it :)

[unbridgeabledistances]

some ian/mickey prompts! (this is not a demand, just some ideas☺️)

• waking up/going to sleep

• cuddling

• domestic scenes in general

• hurt/comfort scenarios

• being in each other’s company (like ur recent fic) and falling in love with each other again

I really don’t know how to describe but I hope these are enough?

<3 ah thank u so much for these ideas anon! i couldn’t fall asleep last night bc i was stressed about a bunch of stuff, so i started to write this little bit of nighttime fluff that seems to fit with your requests:) i hope u enjoy!!

a drabble where ian can’t sleep, and mickey comforts him (can be set as a little coda to 11x05)

--

It was the dead of night at the Gallagher house— Ian was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes trying pierce through the blanket of darkness to count the cracks in the crumbling plaster above him and listening for something, anything, to distract his mind and finally get him to go the fuck to sleep. But it was no use— it was so late that even the usual summer chatter that bubbled up from the South Side street corners into open windows on wafts of summer air had stilled, leaving Ian sweaty and tired and restlessly laying in bed. Ian was more than tired; he was fucking exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed and scratchy and his muscles tense and rigid. Most nights Ian slept well, or slept okay at the least—he kind of had to learn to sleep in any situation after sharing a room with Lip and Carl and Liam for his entire childhood, always plagued with slamming doors and shouting voices. It wasn’t noise that usually kept Ian awake on nights like tonight, it was silence— a deafening, pounding silence that felt like it was crawling under his skin.

He looked over at Mickey, curled tightly on the opposite side of the bed, facing the wall with his arms around his chest and the covers practically up to his chin, the only really visible part of him the sliver of pale skin at the back of his neck that reflected the gauzy moonlight that was streaming in through the blinds. Ian noticed how comfortably Mickey’s face was pressed into the pillow, with even breaths escaping his half-open mouth, and instantly felt a pang of envy. That was the thing about Mickey—he never really had trouble sleeping. Mickey could always drift off the second he hit the sheets, whatever voices that lived inside his head easily quieting when the lights were dim and the world was still. Ian didn’t get it—the voices in his head always ramped up when the lights turned off, always churned and swirled and made him question his entire existence in the stagnant, pitch-black silence— and usually Ian could quiet them, after a little while, but on a night like tonight Ian knew he’d be stuck in the spiral, with his heart racing, until the sun came up. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to will his body to relax.

Ian could feel an odd sense of panic bubbling up in his throat as he laid there unmoving, feeling suffocated by the heat of the deep, dark night pressing in on him. His legs felt tingly and restless, and his head was throbbing because of how tired he was but the static in his mind kept whirring, like a broken radio set to the wrong frequency. He sighed loudly, letting the air burning in his lungs fizzle out of him, just wanting to penetrate the thick silence. He just wanted to be asleep—he was supposed to get up early to put the coffee on before Lip had a job interview, and then he wanted to go for a jog before he and Mickey had a shit ton of weed runs to do that would jam-pack the entire day tomorrow…

Beside him, Mickey shuffled beneath the covers. Ian froze. Fuck, he did not want to wake Mickey up right now. Mickey was crabby and groggy on the best of mornings, but when he didn’t get enough sleep he was truly a force to be reckoned with.

Unfortunately, Ian’s prayers went unanswered. Mickey drew in a deep breath, rustling under the sheets once more.

“Okay Gallagher, what’re you sighing for?” Mickey’s flat, muffled voice piped up from under his blanket cocoon, low and throaty and full of sleep. He sounded exasperated and deflated, and definitely not fully awake.

Ian let out another long breath, more quietly this time. “Nothing, Mick. Go back to sleep.”

But of course, instead of listening, Mickey aggressively yawned and turned over, stretching to shift his body weight and turn onto his opposite side to face Ian. Ian just remained where he was laying, his head lying limp and heavy on the pillow while he stared up at the ceiling.

Mickey dazedly rubbed his eyes, noticing that Ian was fully awake. Immediately, Mickey shook off the sleep that was clouding his eyes. He stared at Ian for a moment, his eyes wide and searching. After a moment, almost on reflex, he carded a quick, gentle hand through the front of Ian’s hair as he leaned in closer.

“You feeling okay?” Mickey’s voice was distant and drowsy, like he was still half-asleep but trying to will himself to wake up.

Am I feeling okay? There was so much latent meaning wrapped up in that question, and Ian felt a cavernous gratefulness bloom in his chest that this was the way Mickey asked—he wasn’t assuming that Ian being manic was the reason that he couldn’t sleep, but he didn’t rule it out either. Mickey was just waiting for Ian to tell him what he was feeling, what he needed, without assuming anything about Ian’s brain before Ian did.

Am I feeling okay?

Ian swallowed, his glassy eyes still fixated on the cracks in the ceiling that he could barely make out in the dark.

“Yeah. S’not anything to worry about, I’ve been taking my meds. I’m just… stressed out I guess.” Ian could hear the fatigue dripping from his voice as it glided across the darkness.

Mickey was still staring at Ian, his gaze piercing and concerned.

“Stressed out?” Mickey questioned lowly, like he’d never heard the two words before.

“Yes, Mickey, stressed out. I don’t know, it’s fucking stupid, just go back to bed.” Ian sighed in frustration.

Instead, Mickey shifted again, propping himself up on his elbow and leaning fully on his side, looking like a teenage girl at a sleepover who was ready to hear some juicy gossip.

“Well I’m awake now, mouth-breather, so why don’t you tell me what you’re worried about?”

Ian gave a quiet, strangled chuckle. What the fuck was he supposed to say? It just fucking sucked to not be able to sleep, to lie there frustrated with dry eyes and a parched throat, grasped tight in the clutches of whatever worries were lying hollow and dark in the pit of his stomach and not being able to do anything about it.

Ian knew it was stupid, but for the last few months he had been pretty much the only one worrying about keeping things together— getting steady money, putting aside fucking savings, trying to keep the house intact and fill the gaping hole Fiona left behind that Ian still just didn’t fit into right, for the sake of Liam and Franny and Carl now that Lip had moved out. Ian had never really given a shit about money, until he had to start caring about everyone else—and it didn’t bother him, it really didn’t, but now that Ian was caught in this fucking sticky silence, he realized how much worrying about taking care of everyone else was actually wearing him down, grinding away at him bit by bit without him noticing.

He exhaled a heavy, trembling breath.

“Just. I don’t know. Worried about money, I guess? And worried about our job. I know we agreed on guns, and I totally fucking get that now, but I’ve never done a job that’s so… dangerous? And then I’m panicking because what if we make total asses of ourselves with this business bullshit and fail and lose everything, and then we’d be back to square one…”

Mickey just sat there perched on his elbow, listening. He wordlessly reached to press the pad of his thumb to Ian’s forehead, above his eyebrows, smoothing the worry lines and creases that started to bloom there as Ian spoke.

“And I just… I don’t know, my heart’s just fucking racing for some reason tonight and I can’t make it stop.”

Mickey continued to silently run his thumb gently on Ian’s face, tracing above his eyebrow and the side of his temple in a soothing pattern that made Ian’s eyes want to flutter shut for the first time in hours.

“S’there anything I can do?” Mickey’s gravelly, sleepy voice cut through the darkness.

Ian peeled his eyes from the ceiling, and shifted them to meet Mickey’s. He was still staring down at Ian with searing concern, like Ian’s stupid fucking worries were a big deal if they were making him feel this distressed.

“It’s fine, Mick. Just get some sleep.” Ian held Mickey’s gaze for a moment, expecting him to turn back over and wrap the blankets around himself.

Instead, Mickey curled closer, draping a heavy arm over Ian’s waist, followed by a thick and heavier thigh between Ian’s legs, his nose nuzzling into the side of Ian’s neck. Ian froze, just for a moment—Mickey definitely usually wasn’t the one to initiate tender touches of intimacy, but he was half-asleep and he knew how much Ian needed this right now, knew it would calm his racing heart down to a steady beat. Instantly, Ian felt something, some heaviness that was burrowed deep in his chest, dissipate at Mickey’s touch.

“Mick,” Ian said. There was something in his lungs, in his throat, on his tongue. He didn’t know what it was. All he knew is that his heartbeat was slowing, his blood was running through his veins at a normal speed again, and the pressure building in his head starting to dissipate.

“This okay?” Mickey was almost asleep again, and mumbled the words into the crook of Ian’s neck, his breath tickling Ian’s chin.

Ian breathed out with relief, curling a hand over Mickey’s shoulders and drinking in the feeling of Mickey’s warm skin nestled against his, a grounding, solid weight holding him at bay. “Yeah, this is good.”