#when evan came back i had like a whole checklist of questions

[cakemoney]

also there was a moment, at the very end when they see evan at the other end of a long hallway, where i was very scared that when they reached each other aabria would say that evan passes right through them. thank god it was only that evan's dick is out

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Territorial {One Shot} ***

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst, NSFW, SMUT

Words: 7.2k

Note: Oh boy, I got carried away with this one. Please excuse the 7k words. I didn’t know I did it until it was too late. Hope you guys like this. Thank you for reading!

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive--Kinda***

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 What do you do when you are a single lady who is also a super busy actress who has too much going on to be bogged down by dating as a celeb? Or what do you do when you have needs that you need tending, but you don’t want the headache of complications? You get yourself a friend with benefits. So that’s what you did.

 Okay, you didn’t go out seeking a friend with benefits situation. It just happened. Thanks to a friend of a friend who was friends with what they called “a sweet guy who was also gorgeous and good in bed,” happened to be at a party you were at and introduced you to none other than Chris Evans. You know of him, everyone in the whole Hollywood fame circle did. You also knew of his reputation. He was a playboy who liked to have a good time. You didn’t knock it.

 That night after you were introduced and he passed the twenty-minute test, you allowed your friends to wander off, leaving the two of you to talk. That talk ended up being a good two hours. He wasn’t boring or arrogant, and he was quite funny. As you spoke, you were mentally going over your checklist.

Not Boring, check. Not arrogant, check. Funny, check. Smart, check. Handsome, check, and check. Tall, check. Nice lips, check. Sexy, all the fucking checks. He was hitting all the checks on your checklist. After another two hours, the two of you still hadn’t managed to wander off to speak to anyone else. Your friends texted several times, giving you your outs, but you didn’t take any of them. Chris, of course, laughed it off because he knew just what was happening.

 By the end of the night, you’d exchanged numbers and made plans to hang out sometime in the coming week or two. Three days passed before he called you. You pretended not to notice, but you noticed. When he called, he joked that he had to play it cool. That night you had dinner, which lasted another four hours. Things were going great, so great that you saw each other six times before the week was done. Each time you found more and more you liked about him. You had good chemistry, and things just felt natural with him.

 One night on the beach after a lowkey picnic dinner, he made his move with a star shooting kiss. It was that good. It quickly became more and more passionate, but the two of you pulled away at the same time. He whispered that he liked you a lot, you whispered it back, and the kissing continued. Then again, the two of you pulled back you said you had a lot going on and couldn’t afford distractions, he shared the same sentiments said his workload was about to pick up. That didn’t stop the kissing, though. On the third pull back, both of you said the words at the same time; “nothing serious.” Both of you laughed about it and nodded your agreement before hurrying back to his car to race back to your place because it was closer for one of the best sexual experiences you’d ever had.

 Nothing serious turned to whenever we’re in the same town. That turned to whenever we have an itch, and finally, it turned into just whenever. Normal fuck buddy arrangements operated with meeting, having sex, and leaving soon after. That never happened between you and Chris. You’d often go out, grab dinner, see a movie, go to a play, a game, whatever. You’d talk about everything, laugh like he was the funniest comedian, flirt your asses off to go back to each other’s houses, and have sensual, teasing, passionate toe-curling, back-arching hair ruining sex. Afterward, you’d cuddle for a little, watch some tv, talk, do it again and again, or however many times it needed to be done, you’d both fall asleep and depending on whose house it was one would leave the next morning after breakfast in bed together.

 Eleven months in and nothing had changed.

“Shit, yes. Right there.” You were so close. Chris continued to pound into you at just the right angle. You could feel the goosebumps prickling your skin, the telltale sign of your impending orgasm--the more goosebumps, the more intense. Chris knew it too.

 “You don’t gotta tell me where. I know what I’m doin’.” He brutally snapped his hips forward, delivering such a powerful stroke you splayed across the bed face down.

 With your face smushed in the down comforters, you moaned and cursed all at the same time.

 “What was that?” Chris slapped your ass and moaned no doubt getting lost in the way it jiggled. Turning your head to the side, you bit your bottom lip.

 “I said fuck that shit hurt,” you repeated. He smiled and grabbed your hips to pull you back up onto your knees. Slowly he slid back inside your warmth. Both of you moaned together. He allowed you to adjust for a few moments as he kissed along your spine up to your neck. Once there, he bit down onto your skin making you gasp.

 “You love that, huh?” You nodded as he held onto your shoulders and began plowing inside of you again. You grabbed the sheets and quickly got lost in the pleasure he was giving you. He sped up his thrusts but never missed his mark. Your moans got louder and louder; you could feel your orgasm creeping back up. Suddenly Chris slowed and hovered over your back to kiss your jaw.

 “I missed you,” his voice was deep, and it sent shivers down your spine.

 “I can tell.” Chris ground his hips into you, sending his dick to press against every wall you had. When he reached around to circle your clit, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

 “I mean it,” he added. You smiled and peeped at him over your shoulder.

“I missed you.” As if those were the words he needed he snapped his hips forward so hard your head jerked forward then back, Chris held on to your shoulders and used it as leverage to have you see stars.

 “Oh, fuck, yes. Uh-huh. Yes, Chris!”

 In a matter of seconds, the two of you came together and rode the waves of pleasure that was so familiar between the two of you. When the two of you crashed to the bed, Chris remained nestled deep inside of you as he tossed the throw blanket over the two of you before he hugged you to his chest. You moaned.

 “That was nice.”

 “Nice? Watch your mouth.” You giggled and pushed your ass back onto him some more, which elicited a deep moan from him. Chris dropped another kiss onto your shoulder.

 “So, you know that party tomorrow night?”

 “What party?”

 “The It party, the one that’s after the It luncheon,” Chris explained.

 “Oh, right. Yeah. What about it?”

 “Are you staying in town for it?”

 “Yeah, I’m here for a week or two, I think. I actually have to go to that stupid luncheon.” You groaned. You hated the horse and pony shows. Hated having to mingle and shake hands and smile and be pretty. It was tiring.

 “I know how much you hate them. Since I have to make an appearance at both, let’s just go together. I’ll distract you from the hoopla and even find some excuse to whisk you away when things get weird.” You snorted and laughed.

 “How in the world do you plan on distracting me? Dragging me into a bathroom part of the plan?”

 “It could be.” Again, he kissed your skin.

 “Listen, if you keep kissing me like that, we’ll be too tired to go anywhere tomorrow.” Chris rolled onto you and kneed your thighs apart.

 “Sounds fine by me. That way, I won’t have to peel a fancy dress off of you to get you naked and here like this.” He thrust forward joining your bodies again. You moaned and wrapped your legs around him.

 “But the fun is peeling off the dress.” Chris smiled and kissed you, beginning another round of mind-numbing sex.

   ~~~~~~

“So, the two of you are dating now.” You rolled your eyes at your best friend, Alicia’s sly statement.

 “Dating? What? No. We’re not dating. We’re going to the luncheon and party afterward. Where did you hear date?”

 Your friends all looked at you as if you were slow. The four of you were sitting and getting hair and makeup done.

 “What!?”

 “Is he picking you up?”

 “In the chauffeured car, yes,” you responded to Valentina’s question.

 “Are you guys planning on matching?”

 “Coordinating and matching are very different,” you defended while looking at Bianca.

 “Y/N! Oh my god, how are you blind to this. You’re dating your fuck buddy,” Alicia hammered home.

 “What! No, I am not. We are not doing anything out of the ordinary. We have dinners, hang out, get it in, and then leave. None of that says dating,” you defended.

 “Uh, yes, it does. Fuck buddies bypass all of that nonsense. You fuck in the car, then get dropped off, go hard at the house, and then leave. There are no calls, texts, dinners, hanging out. All of that you mentioned is called dating. Hence you’ve been dating your fuck buddy,” Alicia finished.

 You sat there thinking about her words. You’d never stopped and thought about this. It was all as easy and as simple as breathing. Chris fell into your life and meshed with it. There was no adjusting or rearranging. The two of you just worked. You enjoyed being around each other.

 “Aren’t you supposed to like being around your fuck buddy?”

 “Not past fucking.”

 You had a mental and I oop moment that you knew you could let out. You liked being around Chris.

 “Listen man; y’all are not going to have me in my head for the next eighteen hours. Nothing is happening between us. We’re being each other’s wing person for these events. End of discussion.”

 For the next hour or so, you got beautified and tried to push what they’d said out of your mind. As far as you were concerned, it was not true. When you got home, you got into your outfit and prepared yourself for the next few hours. When the doorbell rang, it was almost one. He knew you hated arriving anywhere on time. As you approached the door, you could see Chris’s back turned. His navy checkered slacks and brown jacket. You opened the door, and he spun around, holding white orchids.

“Wow.”

 “I know, I look just as good in clothes as I do out of them, right.”

 He smiled and shook his head as he leaned in and kissed you. What was to be a quick peck turned into another and another before you had a mini make-out session in your doorway.

 “Ready to go?”

 “Yes, let me put these down,” you answered before you hurried inside to place the orchids on a shelf. When you came back, you had your clutch, and it was time to go.

 The drive wasn’t long; it went by pretty quick thanks to your constant banter—banter that had been there from day one. You found yourself looking over him and admitting how he looked in his outfit. He looked good. He always looked good even when his team chose questionable pieces. At those times, you didn’t bite your tongue in shooting him a message telling him how bad the outfit was.

 “Is this outfit up to standards?”

 You snorted and shook your head as you bounced him with your shoulder. Instead of moving back to your side, you remained leaning on him. “If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with you.”

 “Oh. So, it’s like that. Wow. Here I thought we were friends,” Chris feigned hurt.

 “You didn’t let me finish. Friends don’t let friends go out looking a hot mess, so I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with you until you matched my drip,” you teased. Chris laughed loudly, slapping his hand across his chest. You smiled. It was a laugh you loved, his genuine laugh.

 “Laugh if you want to. You know I have style, Evans.” He nodded and kissed your temple. It was an action that gave you goosebumps—goosebumps that were usually achieved during sex with him. Sensing your stiff demeanor, Chris looked at your face.

 “You okay?” You nodded more enthusiastically than you should have and hoped it didn’t come off weird.

 Thankfully, you arrived at your location just in time. With your hand draped inside of Chris’s arm, the two of you walked into the entrance of the venue, a sprawling home in the hills. You warmly smiled at the passing faces of those you knew and didn’t know.

 “Perfect little fake smile you have there,” Chris teased.

 Through your perfect little fake smile, you responded, “Not everyone can be charismatic Chris Evans. Some of us have to fake it till we make it.” Chris snorted beside you as the two of you kept walking through the venue. Within minutes you were surrounded by people all complimenting your outfit and expressing how happy they were to see you.

 You and Chris quickly got busy with mingling and small talk. You talked about everything from previous roles to impending ones and everything in between. The entire time you kept your smile up and even added other pleasantries—a hand touch here, a tossed back head laugh there, and infinite cheek kisses. It was exhausting. Halfway through mingling, you realized you and Chris had been torn apart. He was entertaining a group of women off to the side. The smiles on the faces of all the women told you his charm was in full effect, and he had each and every one of them under his blue-eyed spell.

 One of the women touched his bicep while she laughed a very fake laugh. Yeah, he was funny, but he wasn’t that funny. She was trying to inflate his ego. You rolled your eyes but continued to watch. Chris flashed one of his lopsided grins at the woman in the bright yellow body con dress. You knew her as Brandy Hannover, an up and coming actress. He usually didn’t have a type, but from his history, he liked blonds and brunettes, he could go either way. You were the only odd choice in his dating history. You had to mentally slap yourself when you registered “dating.” Then you had to remind yourself; you’re not dating.

 Brandy looked him over as she licked her lips. When hers and Chris’s eyes met, you felt a pang of something unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. Their glance lasted seconds, but seconds was all it took for you to want to vomit. Chris looked from her and immediately found your eyes. You flashed him your fake smile and turned back to those in your group to join back into the conversation, ignoring the new uneasiness you felt.

 An hour passed, then two, and three. By the time five rolled around, you’d had way too much Bellini’s and mimosas and were ready to leave. As you thought it, Chris found you and expressed the same sentiments. Relieved, you wasted no time making your exit and getting back into the car. The drive back was quieter than the trip going. Chris tried to make small talk, but your short responses shut him down. You couldn’t keep your head in the present. You kept thinking back to watching him talk to Brandy. You didn’t know why it rubbed you the wrong way, and that was what bothered you. Before you knew it, the car was outside your door.

 “You okay?”

 “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine. Too much champagne, you know it makes me loopy.”

 He nodded but didn’t speak again for a few moments.

 “Have you decided on the color for tonight?”

 You were supposed to tell him the color of your dress so he wouldn’t clash with you. you hadn’t narrowed it down yet, so you shrugged. “Wear whatever. It doesn’t really matter. It’s not nearly that serious.”

 Chris looked confused, but you didn’t want to explain. Gathering your things, you went to open the door, but the driver did it for you.

 “Y/N, you sure you’re okay?”

 “Yeah. So—eight?” He looked like he had more to say, but he was contemplating if he should. With a defeated sigh, he nodded and repeated the time you’d agreed to pick you up. You nodded and walked to your front door without a glance back.

~~~~~~~~ 

That night the doorbell rang a little after eight. You were in a better mood now and actually couldn’t wait for the chance to drink some wine. Your friends were going to be there, and you knew they’d make you have fun. You smiled when you saw his crisp blue suit with black lapels, your jaw dropped. God, he was gorgeous. You almost said it too.

 “I had a feeling you’d pick the rose gold dress,” Chris informed. Your smile said it all. He knew you well.

 By the time you got to the party, the paparazzi were out and snapping pics of everyone in their path. When you and Chris walked by arm in arm, they shouted numerous questions.

 “Y/N, Y/N, Chris over here. Are you guys dating now? There have been tons of rumors. Is this your official outing as a couple?”

 You looked at Chris, who was rolling his eyes and giving you a silly face.

 “Uh, no. Chris and I are just friends as always.” You looked at him again, but the silly face was gone. He looked a lot more serious. His eyebrows were knitted and jaw tight. You wondered if you’d said something to warrant the change.

 Inside the venue, it was all opulence and luxury. It was filled with who was who of Hollywood. It was loud; the sounds of Normani’s Motivation was playing. There were a few places for dancing and quite a few tables for socializing. Everyone looked to be having a good time. Chris led you through the space on his arm. Occasionally the two of you would stop and greet a few people you knew before you continued on.

 After a few minutes, your friends found you, and it was then Chris made his clean break for the bar.

 “You look incredible,” Valentina elated. You smiled and did a spin so she could see the whole outfit.

 “Damn, boobs are out on display.” The four of you laughed as you looked around at your surroundings.

 “They had a good turn out.”

 “Yeah. No one needs an excuse to come out and drink on someone else’s dime, especially if it means it’ll possibly add to the notches on their bedpost,” Bianca said. It was true. You were only here because you half had to. In Hollywood, you had to make sure your face wasn’t forgotten.

 The song changed to an oldie, and the four of you jumped up and busted out your moves. The four of you made your way to one of the dance floors and got your party on. You parted the high split at your thigh and dropped a little low and winded your hips. Your friends followed your lead and showcased their skills. The four of you sang along to the song.

 “I’m on the floor, floor, I love to dance. Now give me more, more. Till I can’t stand. Get on the floor, floor like it’s your last chance. If you want more, more, then here I am.”

 That was when you got into it even more. When the hook popped, you lost it.

 “We’re higher than a motherfucker!” The four of you jumped like you were in a mosh pit and didn’t care who was watching. Soon a few others joined in with the four of you, and then the floor around you was filled.

 From the corner of your eye, you saw Chris leaning against the bar watching with a soft smile on his lips. He raised his drink and shook his head. Your shrug said it all. He knew how you were. The party didn’t start until you walk in. You nudged him over, but he shook his head. Before you continued to dance, you stuck your tongue out at him.

 You spent the next hour on that dance floor with your girls dancing your ass off with plenty of drink filled pit stops. You had no idea who was in charge of the music, but they were killing it. Usually, the music at these things was so bland, but tonight they must have had a good DJ. By the time Chris came over more than an hour had passed. He handed you a refilled glass of your Bacardi on ice. That was when the music changed to something new from the Jonas Brothers. You couldn’t lie; it was a good one.

 You pulled Chris into a dance before he could back off. Though he tried to make his getaway, you quickly stopped him by sliding before him, blocking him with your hip. He snorted and shook his head. You crooked your finger to him, telling him to come to you. When he walked to you, he looked like he didn’t want to. You crossed your arms and pouted, and that was when he took your hands and began moving to the beat. In no time, the two of you were doing some mixed up jive dances around the dancefloor. When the hook came on, you imitated Danny Zuko and Sandy’s dancing at the fair. Chris wasted no time joining in though the two of you laughed your ass off the entire time.

 This is what you loved. You had a good time with him no matter what. Towards the end of the song, you and Chris were close together with his arms around your waist.

 “I can’t believe you have me dancing in front of all these people, showing my white boy moves.” You laughed loudly, throwing your head back. This one was genuine.

 “And you give me the fake enthusiastic laugh,” he teased.

 “Oh, stop it. You know that one was real. I don’t fake anything with you.” Your eyes locked and you wiggled your eyebrows at him. Chris bit his bottom lip and sank his fingers into your back, holding you firmer.

 “Good to know.” You noticed how dark his eyes got, and you knew just what it meant. Thankfully this was not the place.

 “How do you feel about finding a balcony or closet with me?” you dropped your jaw in faux shock.

 “Really, Christopher? Here?”

 You were not surprised. This man was the energizer fucking bunny. He was always down to get his tip wet. In the last eleven months, you’d had sex in the most unimaginable places. He may be white, but he was anything but vanilla.

 “Oh, come on. you’re not down?” All of this isn’t working for you?” Again, you laughed loudly.

“Your Gemini cocky is showing.” He smiled and brought his lips to your ear and pressed them to your skin.

 “My Gemini cocky wants to show right here, right now, if you catch my drift.” He finished with a small bite to your earlobe.

 That was all it took, and he knew it.

 “I can feel your nipples through your dress. Follow me in four minutes.”

 You watched him walk off and tried to conceal your excitement. There was nothing like public sex. The possibility of being caught was just too intoxicating and exhilarating. He’d given you some of your best orgasms in an open space. Before he disappeared, he peeped back at you and licked his lips before giving you his signature molten smolder. Jesus the man was going to be the death of you. You looked around looking to see if anyone had seen anything. When you were satisfied, you made it to the bar. You needed a stiff drink.

 “What’s your poison?” Looking to your right, you saw a tall drink of milk. His hair was blonde and hung loose and was the perfect frame for his strong jawline. He was gorgeous. He sort of reminded you of Chris, but his vibe and aura were completely different, but still sexy.

Realizing you were gawking, you cleared your throat and looked to the bartender. “Um—uh--,” you stuttered. This was different, you thought.

 “Speechless or unsure?” you looked back to him and saw his perfect smile. Lord have mercy, you thought.

 “Both.”

 “I’m Charlie; maybe I can help.” You nodded and watched as he spoke to the bartender. His mouth was beautiful. You instantly began to wonder just what that mouth did. As if he could hear your thoughts, Charlie looked at you with dark eyes.

 “I can help with that too.”

 You were too horny for this, and it was all Chris’s fault. You remembered Chris and slyly checked your phone to see what time you had.

 “Am I boring or--,” Charlie trailed off.

 “I’m Y/N, and no, no, you’re not I just—was supposed to find a friend.”

 “Oh, so it has nothing to do with you not being interested?”

 He had you there. Were you interested? He was beautiful and sexy, and you were sure he could be a good guy.

 “It’s just—I’m not really doing the dating thing right now.”

“We can be friends—every good relationship starts with friendship.”

 “Relationship?”

 “Definitely, this chemistry can’t go anywhere else but up.”

 You were impressed. He was direct but not pushy. You liked it. Charlie then took your phone and held it up to you showing your lock pad. He didn’t say one word; all he did was stare in your eyes. You found yourself tapping in your lock code, giving him access to your phone. You watched his hands as they tapped away and admired the clean groom of his nails, you then looked up to his face and continued to admire the beard and mustache combo. He was fine.

 Charlie held your phone back to you with a smile. “Call me.” You smiled and nodded. From the corner of your eye, you saw Chris watching. He didn’t look happy.

 “Uh, I gotta—go. It was nice meeting you.” You tried to calmly walk over to Chris, but the sea of people on the dancefloor made it tricky. As you got close, you saw him walk away, but then you lost him. You were left spinning around on the dance floor, looking for which direction he went. That was when you shot him a message.

 MSG: Where’d you go?

 “You know, I think what you’re doing needs a partner.”

 You spun around and saw an incredibly tall buff dark-haired man with a sweet smile on his face.

“I’m sorry?”

 “Dancing, you’re all alone,” he filled in. You smiled and nervously laughed. Your mind had totally taken that somewhere else.

 “Right.”

 “What’d you think I meant?” His sly grin said he suspected just what you thought he meant. You pinched your lips and shrugged, which made him laugh.

 “Pablo.” He held his hand out for you to shake, which you did.

 “Y/N.” The moment your hands touched, there was an electric shock. Both of you pulled back with smiles.

 “That was a first,” Pablo informed. You smiled and nodded.

 “I have to admit; I’ve been watching you all night. Not in a crazy, creepy stalker way but a mesmerized way.”

 “Is that any less creepy or stalker like?”

 Again, he laughed, then nodded. “You have a point.”

 His smile was great, open, and free.

 “I wasn’t trying to be creepy. I just—haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you.”

 “It’s the dress, the color just—draws you in,” you explained. His eyes slowly roamed over your body, and every inch he looked, he looked as if he were in pain but also blown away.

 “While the dress is—infuckingcredible, like really wow, it’s not the dress. I’m sure it’s the woman wearing the dress.”

 He was smooth, you thought. The way he slid that in there was seamless.

 “I just had to come over and tell you all of this before I lost my chance,” Pablo admitted.

 “Lost your chance?”

 “It’s clear you have the attention of every man in here. I had to what do they say—shoot my shot.” You laughed loudly while pressing your hand to your cleavage.

 “Wow. Good one.”

 “Gotta stay up with the times. So, what do you say, do I have a shot?”

 You studied him and looked him over and admitted he was gorgeous. You didn’t get a bad vibe from him, either. You couldn’t believe this. You now had two equally beautiful men vying for your attention while you had Chris. You saw him them hanging to the back, watching you. Instantly you felt guilty as if you shouldn’t be talking to any other man but him. He sure as hell looked like he was thinking it.

 “Tell you what, take my number and give me a call if you think I have a shot.”

 Pablo’s voice brought your attention back to his face. You unlocked your phone and took his number. Once it was locked in, you said your goodbyes then looked back to the spot you saw Chris. Again, he was gone.

 An hour later, you’d had enough of the party. You’d sent Chris numerous messages, and he hadn’t responded to any of them. You were pissed at this point—pissed and horny. You found your friends and told them you were ready to go. They wanted to stay, so you left alone. On the drive back to your house, you looked between Charlie’s number and Pablo’s. It never ceased to amaze you the universe’s sense of humor. Usually, when you weren’t looking, you found situations to get yourself into as opposed to when you’re looking. When you were close, you looked at your text exchange between Chris and contemplated sending yet another one. You were so annoyed with him you decided against it.

 Once inside, you took a shower and sat in your bed with a bottle of wine ready to channel surf. After about thirty or so minutes of relaxation, your doorbell rang. It was damn near three in the morning, and you didn’t know who it could be. You checked your Ring app and saw Chris at your door. His suit jacket was missing leaving him in his crisp white shirt. In one hand he held a bottle, and the other was braced on the frame. His tie was loosened around his neck with a few buttons on his white shirt undone. Rolling your eyes, you got up and made your way to it as he continued to ring over and over.

 When you flung open the door, you were ready to push him away. “You have some nerve showing up here after what you did,” you slid out.

 “Me? After what I did? You have some nerve showing up here after what you did!”

 You sighed and rolled your eyes. “I live here, dumbass!”

 “Yeah, so!”

 He was drunk. It made no sense doing this now. “Go home, Chris, sleep it off.”

 “Now I have to go home? Why got someone inside?”

 You looked at him incredulously. “Excuse me? Who would I have--,”

 “You tell me. I saw you tonight with not one but two douchbags.” He held up three fingers instead of two. You rubbed your temples; he was going to give you a headache.

 “And you know they’re douchbags how?”

 “Oh come on, Y/N, you can see it. If you weren’t blinded, you’d have seen it too.”

 “Blinded? By what? Chris, you’re drunk and making no sense. Go home.”

 “No! I’m gonna say this. You had me waiting and waiting so you could flirt with dickhead one and dickhead two. That was cold, Y/N.”

 “I didn’t expect them to corner me. You didn’t answer my calls or texts. You left me there, Chris. We went together, and you left me.”

 “Oh, I thought you’d get a ride from one of them. You sure looked like you wanted it.”

 Your jaw dropped as you stared at him.

 “What is your problem right now, Chris? I don’t get all twisted when you flirt with every Brenda, Brandy, and Bernice. I just let you do your thing. What the hell?!”

 “Oh please, when was the last time I flirted with anyone but you? Months! Fuck, it’s been almost a year Y/N.”

 “You flirted today! I saw you give her the look. Don’t fuck with me, Chris.”

 You walked away inside your house then. He was really pissing you off. You heard your door slam and knew he showed himself in.

 “You want them to fuck with you, right. That’s what you want, Y/N?”

 “So what if I do? So what? Why does it matter? We’re friends. We’re—this was your idea.”

 “Don’t pull that, it was as much yours as mine,” Chris countered.

 “Exactly. What’s changed? We were good last night. What the fuck is the matter with you?”

 “I’m fucking tired of doing this. We do everything a couple does. Do you see that? We go on dates, fly out to each other, hang with each other’s friends. You’ve met my family; we have sex, we sleepover, cuddle. We do it all. What the fuck did you expect?”

 You were stumped. What exactly was he saying? Was he saying what it sounded like he was saying? The look on his face was an exasperated one. He looked genuinely at his wit’s end and completely flushed.

 “Do you need me to spell it out for you?”

 He scoffed and tossed the bottle he held into a nearby chair and approached you. Once close enough, he crashed his lips to yours and lifted you in his arms. Your brain was still in shock, but your body needed no adjustment. You wrapped your legs around him and kissed him back with just as much passion as he was dishing out. Your moans competed in the hallway before he made his way up the stairs toward your bedroom.

 Once there, he dropped you on the bed and pressed his body onto yours. He felt so fucking good. Quickly Chris undid the rest of his clothes. In a matter of seconds, he was naked pulling your tee shirt over your hips to push your panties to the side. When he thrust into you, it was a quick and rough movement that stole your breath. Chris loudly groaned in your ear as his body shook on top of yours. The pace he set was a fast one, one that said he had something to prove, one that was laced with aggression. You felt his meaning behind every deep, and bruising thrust.

 “Fuck, Chris!” He arched onto his forearms and looked down at you as he sped the way his hips rolled. You arched your head back and wrapped your legs more tightly around him, digging your heels into the flesh of his tight ass.

 “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” He bit down on your neck, and you saw stars. This was the quickest orgasm you’d had in months. He didn’t slow down while you clenched around him. He kept his pace but increased the loudness of his moans.

 “Fuck Y/N. You feel so fucking good.”

 This was the first time he’d ever gone raw. You both were meticulous about protection. The feel of him inside of you this way was pushing you so much closer to the edge.

 “Mmmm, fuck this pussy, Chris!”

 “Whose pussy is it? Huh? Is it mine?” He’d asked this before, plenty of times, and you always said his without hesitation, but this time, you felt he meant it differently. The realization of that made you lose your shit and come again.

 “Oh, gooooooood!” Chris grunted and slammed into you with slow, precise strokes that only prolonged your release.

 “I can’t hear you, Y/N. Is this pussy mine?”

 You nodded, unable to find an ounce of control. “Yes. Mmm, yes. Fuck this pussy, Chris. Fuck your pussy.”

 “With pleasure!” He looked devious as if he had nothing good planned for your pussy.

 Chris arced your ass up, changing the angle on you, and that was it. You screamed, feeling every single inch pound into you. He’d never been like this before. It was new, and you loved it a little bit too much.

 “Mine!” He didn’t even sound sane anymore. He sounded crazed. Who knew you liked crazed? He slammed his hips into you so fast you had to hold onto the sheets for some kind of leverage. He was impossibly deep, so deep, you found yourself trying to pull back. The look he gave you was warning enough.

 “Take all this dick, Y/N. It’s yours.” Chris threw his head back and groaned loudly before his thrusts became sloppy. You could feel his body shake, and you knew he was close. You held onto his hand and began rocking on him rolling your body like a wave. Chris dropped his head to look back at you. His eyes were wide. He was asking you the question. Your whines became louder, but you didn’t loosen your grip. You were giving him your answer. His eyes remained trained on yours from there, and it made the moment that much more intense. Your pants blended together as did the sweaty slap your bodies made together.

 Chris grunted then whimpered before he slammed into you once, twice and a third time as he made the most primal sound you’d ever heard. Upon hearing it, you came with such a force all you saw was blinding light behind your eyes.

 “Ahhhh!” The two of you screamed together as you rode the waves of your pleasure. You felt like you were going to rip apart and couldn’t handle it, as you began to move, you came again, and that was when you felt the geyser-like gush come from you. Again, you screamed and dug your nails into his hand.

 An eternity seemed to pass before either of you were coherent or even able to put speech together. The feel of Chris’ fingertips across your hip was what brought you back to reality. You had no idea how you’d gotten on top of him, but one thing was certain, he was still buried deep within you. You lazily moaned against his chest.

 “Mmm.”

 “Are you okay?”

 “Mmm.” That was literally the only thing you could respond with. You doubted you had a voice anymore; you weren’t even sure you had legs. You lazily opened your eyes, instantly regretting it. The sun was peeking in through your sheer curtains. You didn’t even realize the two of you fell asleep.

 “Are you sure you’re okay?” Chris brought his fingers up and down your spine, lulling you back to sleep.

 “It’s morning,” he said again when you didn’t respond for several moments. Again, you moaned, this time you shifted but only slightly. Chris moaned, the vibration had you opening your eyes.

 “I’m sorry if I was too rough. Shit, I’m sorry for everything I said. I was drunk.”

 “Oh so.” Chris snorted then groaned again.

 “I’m sorry. That’s not a side I ever wanted to show you.”

 “Your drunk, jealous, petty, and dom side?” His voice was doing things to you. You were so wide open for this man it was crazy and the final nail in the coffin.”

 “I was not petty.”

 “Oh, you were petty. I think you would beat several women at it.” Chris laughed, but slowly the silence returned.

 “Y/N.”

You moaned your response again. He didn’t speak right away, though; he waited for nearly a minute before he quietly spoke.

 “I need the words. I need--the titles, the ex--exclusivity.”

 The words hung in the air between you. Your eyes were wide open now, but you didn’t speak. You didn’t know what to say. After a few minutes, he gently lifted your head and turned it to him. Resting your chin on his chest, the two of you gazed at each other.

 “I need you. I need us the way we’ve always been, but so much more.”

 It was then you understood what you felt yesterday at the luncheon and what you’ve been gradually feeling over the last few months.

 “I love you, Y/N.” Your heart was racing as fast as his. It was cute. You raised up on him, changing the angle of his half-hardened cock. Both of you moaned. When you sat there looking at his lazy drooped eyes, you almost laughed. Of course, this is where the two of you ended up.

 “If you don’t feel the same, just say it. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

 “I love you too, Chris.”

 “Really?” You nodded and smiled. He was adorable when he was insecure.

 “What about those two idiots from--,” Chris began before you groaned and got off of him. Chris sucked in a breath and released a groan. When you came back, you had your phone in hand holding it out to him.

 “Take it. The code is 081119.” Chris cautiously took your phone and tapped in the code as you sat on his thighs. “Go to contacts. Find Charlie and Pablo. Do whatever you want with them.” You watched Chris as he searched through and found what you told him to. He looked at you as if he were thinking about something. You didn’t waver, only gave him a disinterested look.

 “Whatever I want?”

 “Whatever you want.” He smiled and tapped away.

 “Your services won’t be needed. I’m in love with someone else, and he has the biggest, thickest--.” You lurched for your phone as he pulled it back to flip you onto your back. His laugh was loud.

 “Don’t be a dick about it, Chris. I may still have to work with them one day,” you whined. Chris showed you the blank screen. He hadn’t typed anything.

 “I can be a real dick; just remember that.” You smiled, seeing more of his possessive, territorial side.

 “You know, this possessiveness and territorial alpha thing is really hot.”

 “Yeah? It turns you on?”

 “Little bit.” You smiled and allowed him to spread your legs with his free hand. When you felt the heaviness of his member pressing against your slit, you moaned.

 “Are you watching?” you looked at your screen and watched him tap the delete contact button. He did the same for both of them then tossed your phone aside.

 “Mine!” You smiled and bit your bottom lip.

 “Mine,” you repeated. Chris smiled and kissed you softly before he pulled back and slid into you, connecting your bodies with a smooth stroke.

 “You have me as daddy in your phone.” His smile was so full you were sure it was his cocky side coming out.

 “I’ll show you, daddy.”

 Chris pulled a moan from you, and you knew it was just the beginning. There was nothing like we’re officially together sex, especially territorial we’re officially together sex.

[f00pyf00p]

Four-Year Anniversary

Fandom: Sanders Sides  Characters: Logan, Virgil, Roman, Mentions of Patton Rating: General Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: None that I’m aware of Word count: 3017 Summary: Roman is determined to make Logan and Virgil will enjoy their anniversary, even if they don't seem to be particularly interested in it themselves. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 1: Debate/Anniversary @analogicalweek 

Read on AO3!

Virgil was the first one out of the two to awaken. It was an odd but welcome occurrence, and one he celebrated by shifting over and cuddling into his partner, wrapping one arm over Logan’s waist, and kissing the side of his neck.

There was a soft mumble from the other person. Virgil kissed him again.

“I don’t wake you up when I happen to awaken first,” Logan grumbled. “Besides, I require abnormal amounts of strength today.”

Virgil frowned. “Why?”

“Roman.”

Right.

Today was their anniversary. It was their four-year anniversary (that thought alone had Virgil pulling Logan a little closer) and while to them, that meant… not a lot, to Roman it meant much more than it should, especially considering he wasn’t even in the relationship.

“20 bucks says he’s made the kitchen look like a really fancy restaurant.”

Logan's only response was a quiet groan.

“What things do you think we’ll see the moment we open the bedroom door?” Virgil nudged him. “I’ve got rose petals, a basket of chocolates, and a radio playing the sound of Roman singing love songs.”

“Teddy bears,” Logan yawned. He curled closer into the blankets and Virgil suddenly wished to grab his adorable boyfriend and squish him. He settled to push himself up for a kiss on the cheek. “On Valentine’s Day when Thomas went to CVS Roman kept looking from the giant stuffed bears to us. He probably summoned some.”

“He summoned some yesterday during the “First Time Thomas had Mac n’ Cheese” anniversary. Do you really think he’ll do it again?”

“He used those frilly streamers for a full week for “The First TV” anniversary, “The Steven Universe” anniversary, “The First Time Liking Broccoli” anniversary, and “The First Time Hearing the Evan Hansen Musical” anniversary.”

Virgil’s head flopped onto Logan’s shoulder. “Maybe we will have teddy bears then.”

“I’ll burn whatever stupid bear he gets me.”

“What if it's a unicorn bear?”

Logan’s cheeks tinted a very light pink and he opened both eyes to glare at the man hanging above him. Virgil gave a cheeky grin and Logan rolled his eyes before re-closing them and settling back into the pillows.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Virgil nudged playfully.

“Shut up.”

Virgil flopped back down and pressed his face into the back of Logan’s neck. He had barely been there for a second before he was peppering kisses down the back of it, triggering a loud sigh and then a rolling from Logan’s so they were nearly nose to nose.

“You have a lot of energy today,” Logan remarked.

Virgil reached up and kissed his nose.

“We could say in bed forever,” Virgil told him. “Then we get to avoid Roman.”

“That would hurt Roman’s feelings.” Logan’s expression turned more sheepish. “I’m trying not to do that anymore.”

Virgil’s heart bloomed with love for this man in front of him, who could accept the fact that he had made mistakes and who worked so hard to improve them.

“Still,” Virgil pressed. “We can stall.”

Logan shrugged and Virgil took that as permission to lean forward and fully capture his boyfriend’s lips within his own.

__

Roman was positive he had forgotten something. Something important. Something they needed.

He ran down his checklist.

A path of red and white roses petals, leading from Logan’s bedroom (which had pretty much become Logan and Virgil’s bedroom at this point) to the kitchen.

Baskets, filled with chocolates, fruits, flowers, and a coffee maker. Two large teddy bears, one white, one grey.

Then in the kitchen…

Waffles, cooked to perfection by Patton. Hot syrup, berries, whipped cream, and then there was the fact that the entire kitchen had been shifted to look like one of those fancy diners.

He had created an entire ballroom, filled it to the brim with random facets of Thomas’s personality, added music and snacks, and then closed it off for later.

His room was open to go outside and eat at the picnic he had set up, on a blanket completely covered in hearts.

What had he missed?

Crap! There were supposed to be chocolates at the picnic! Roman hurriedly snapped his fingers and felt himself relax.

Wait.

Music.

With another snap of his fingers, radios appeared at every single one of the spots he had set up for Logan and Virgil, all filled with the sound of his voice singing a variety of love songs.

Now, everything was perfect, as it should be for Logan and Virgil’s fourth anniversary.

The bedroom door opened. Roman could tell because the sound of him singing “You Matter to Me” from Waitress slowly started up, followed by Roman’s loud singing.

I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes

They've seen things you never quite say, but I hear…

Logan came into the kitchen first. He blinked at the fancy diner and offered Roman what was probably a smile- Roman wasn’t quite sure, but admittedly, it wasn’t like the logical side smiled much anyway. As Logan gingerly took a seat, Virgil appeared behind him. His hands flinched slightly at the sight but he did smile at Roman before moving for the coffee machine.

“No!”

Virgil blinked. Had Roman turned to look at Logan, he would’ve noticed the side putting his head in his hands, but his gaze was fixated solely on Virgil and the mugs he was reaching for.

“I’ll do that!” Roman stepped forward and shoved Virgil towards the table. “It’s your day!”

“I um…” Virgil licked his lips. “I don’t want-”

“We appreciate it, Roman,” Logan interrupted. He fixed Virgil with a look. “Just breakfast, right?”

Roman nodded eagerly.

Virgil pursed his lips before moving back over to the table Logan was already seated at and taking the spot across from him. The two of them leaned forward, probably to tell each other how pleased they were with Roman’s efforts, while Roman reached for the coffee.

He had been setting up things like this for the past four years, every time their anniversary hit, and he had never seemed to get it quite right. Somewhere along the line, one or the other always disappeared and everything fell to shambles pretty quickly.

It didn’t matter. Roman would make today so enjoyable, they would wish everyday was Anniversary Day.

He placed two coffee mugs in front of them. “What would you like to eat?” He asked.

Logan and Virgil looked at each other, then over to the obvious stack of waffles sitting on the counter.

“Toast,” Virgil deadpanned.

Logan hid his smile with a single hand. He nodded vaguely in the waffles direction and Roman skipped over to the platter and then placed it in the middle of the lovebird’s table.

“Thank you, Roman.” Logan met his eyes and gave a quiet nod before reaching to grab a waffle with his fork.

They ate in relative silence, now and then raising an eyebrow or flickering their eyes in a direction to communicate some sort of message Roman didn’t understand. He waited patiently for the two of them to finish eating before snapping his fingers and clearing the table in an instant.

“Right! Now, I have an outdoorsy activity plan for you including Swan Boats-”

“I can’t!” Virgil interrupted.

Roman paused. “Why not?”

“I’m… allergic to water?”

There was a beat of silence. Logan stared open-mouthed at Virgil but Roman nodded knowingly.

“Okay, then we can skip the Swan Boats and go right to the theater.”

Logan winced at that.

“Don’t worry,” Roman said quickly. “It’s gay.”

“Look, Roman, I’m sure your play is very good… who’s in it?”

“Me!”

Virgil closed his eyes and Logan licked his lips.

“Right. I’m sure it’s… adequate. But I’m not very fond of theater-”

“You’ll like this one,” Roman said. “Come on! I promise it’ll be fun!”

Virgil and Logan shared another one of their looks. Their hands laced together and both of them nodded over at Roman, who was all too happy to lead them out of the kitchen and towards his room.

When Roman glanced behind him, he found Virgil raising his eyebrows at Logan, an expression that Logan seemed to be purposely ignoring. Roman wasn’t quite sure what to make of it but he chose to leave his strange nerds to whatever they were up to and concentrate on the performance he was about to give. It would be a bit difficult to give, as for some reason, none of the other sides that preferred acting had liked the idea of acting for Logan and Virgil.

“Logan hates theater,” Courage had said, “and Virgil is scared of being the only audience member clapping. Besides, you know they don’t do anything for anniversaries anyway.”

Roman did know that, which is why he had set up this show for them. In his opinion, it was important to celebrate the big moments. Especially four years of being together.

His performance began with a song about feeling lost and alone. The moment the song began, Logan began shifting in his seat and Virgil muttered something in his ear.

During intermission, Logan went up to Roman and gave him what could’ve either been a smile or a grimace.

“I have work,” he said simply. “Virgil says he’ll watch the rest of your performance and tell me about it, because I don’t want your efforts to go unwatched, but I do really need to go.”

Roman stared at him. “It’s your anniversary! You should be relaxing!”

Logan just shrugged. “I don’t see an anniversary as an achievement.”

Before Roman could even begin to unpack all that, Logan gave him a tiny wave and left Virgil to watch the rest of Roman’s performance alone.

__

Okay, so the theater and the swan boats were a bust. That was fine. Roman had plenty of other things planned for today.

Except, then Virgil wanted to go work, so only he and Logan went to Patton’s cooking class.

And then Logan saw a book he hadn’t read in the library, so Virgil did the escape room by himself (he did manage to complete it though.)

And then both Logan and Virgil were busy, so the picnic was completely ruined.

By 3 o’clock, Roman had all but given up trying to get Logan and Virgil to do fun things and was sitting by the kitchen table, head firmly planted on the tabletop, and letting out quiet moans as if he were a fish that had just been gutted.

There was a creak from the chair beside him. Roman turned his head to the side and blinked rapidly at Logan. The side’s expression was unreadable, but Roman sat up and glared fully at his stupid friend.

“Why don’t you just enjoy the stuff I make you!?” Roman threw his hands up in the air. “You’ve been together for four years! You should celebrate that!”

Logan sighed quietly. “Would it make you feel better if Virgil and I did one of your… date ideas?”

“No!” Roman crossed his arms over his chest. “It would make me feel better if you wanted to celebrate.”

“So we can’t make you feel better then?”

It took Roman a second to figure out what he was insinuating. That the only reason he would do anything Roman planned was for him and not their relationship. “Why don’t you want to celebrate!?” he practically shouted.

Virgil appeared in the doorway. Roman’s eyes flickered between the two of them but it was Logan who answered his question.

“Virgil doesn’t like the over-attention, and I don’t see an anniversary as an achievement.” His voice was casual as if they were discussing how the sky was blue or that water made things wet. “The true achievements in a relationship are when you compromise, help the other through obstacles, show your interest in their interests. It’s not an arbitrary date.”

Roman stared rather blankly at him.

“The achievement,” Logan continued, “is just being in the relationship. It doesn’t matter to me how long I’m with Virgil, so long as I am.”

“You fucking-” Virgil spoke from the doorway, voice a bit more muffled than usual.

Logan glanced behind him, eyebrows knit together, and barely had time to ask “what?” before Virgil had hauled him out of his chair, waved at Roman, and pulled Logan out of the kitchen.

Roman snapped his fingers, and all of the plans he had made for the day- the party, the trivia game, the Disney movie marathon- vanished into thin air.

__

Logan walked into his room later that night and was not at all surprised to find Virgil laying across his bed, computer open to Disney+, and Virgil browsing through it in an attempt to find a movie they could watch together. It was a common sight- although normally, Virgil wore his hoodie instead of the skeleton onesie on at the moment. And normally, there wasn’t a unicorn onesie spread out off to the side of him in a very obvious message as to what Logan was to wear.

He scooped the onesie up.

“Dinner?” Virgil glanced over at him. He smiled widely at the sight of conjured Chinese food and then rolled his eyes. “Utter sap.”

Logan was still trying not to melt from the mere look on Virgil’s face and wasn’t able to find his tongue before Virgil had sat up and given him a soft kiss.

“We’re not eating on the bed,” Logan managed when they broke apart.

“Then you better set up the beanbags.” Virgil stuck his tongue out and then instantly went back to browsing. “Are you against musical Disney movies?”

“I suppose not.” Logan grimaced at the thought of the show Roman had put on. “However, I’d prefer it to not be a romance.”

Virgil’s gaze laughed back at him, as if he too was remembering the oddity of watching Roman play all parts of a romance play- although Logan had managed to escape before watching Roman passionately make out with… nobody.

And while he was sorry he had left Virgil alone for that, he was also incredibly happy he missed it.

Logan set the Chinese food down on his desk and headed over towards the hamper set off to the side of his room. It took him less than a minute to strip from his earlier dress clothes, slip into the onesie Virgil clearly wanted him in, and tie a blue tie around the front of it.

“Moana doesn’t have any romance in it,” Virgil said aloud. Before Logan could respond he muttered, “I’m in the mood for a classic though.”

Logan left him to it (Virgil would figure out what he wanted eventually) and made his way over to the ridiculously large bean bag usually set up in the corner of the room. Virgil had insisted they get it practically the moment he moved in, and Logan had to admit, the thing was quite useful.

At the moment though, it was completely covered in graphic novels Virgil read while listening to his loud emo music.

Logan sorted them onto the shelf as quickly as he could, ignoring the little “hmms” and “I hate that movies” coming from his bed. Once the beanbag was completely cleared off, Logan snatched their favorite blanket- a weighted galaxy one and sent it fluttering over the top.

“Have you picked a movie yet, Virge?”

“No.” Virgil sighed. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I think you’ve given me every possible meaning to that question.”

“Fuck you.”

Logan smiled softly at the familiar nonthreatening words. He tapped the back of Virgil’s legs as he walked back over to grab the Chinese food, as a quiet friendly reminder that everything was ready for him.

“Mulan,” Virgil said aloud. He twisted to meet Logan’s eyes. “Mulan? Not the hideous new one, obviously. The old one.”

“Satisfactory.”

Virgil's answering smile is bright and not for the first time in their relationship- or really not for the first time that day, Logan is reminded exactly why he fell in love with him. He said nothing as Virgil jumped up and settled into the beanbag, holding one arm out for Logan to curl into before dropping the weighting blanket over both of them.

Virgil balanced the computer on his knees and Logan used the tension of the blanket as a sort of table Chinese food. He curled into Virgil’s side, letting out a quiet breath.

“I can’t believe Mr. I-Don't-Care-About-Anniversaries got my favorite takeout for our anniversary,” Virgil teased lightly.

Logan ignored the heat rushing into his cheeks. “You still enjoy them, even if you don’t like grand gestures. I’m not above pushing aside my opinion to make you happy.”

“You are annoyingly sweet, Logan.”

Logan smiled and leaned up to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. Virgil’s answer was to shove fried rice into his face and click the start of the movie.

“Did you know,” Logan said over the music of the opening credits, “that the true story of Mulan is a lot more feminist than what Disney was going for here?”

“Yeah?” Virgil supplied.

“Yeah. In the real folktale, Mulan’s family knew she was leaving and supported her. Plus, when the army found out she was a woman, they didn’t care and just let her stay because she was that strong of a soldier.”

Logan glanced over at Virgil and found that he was facing him, barely even an inch away. Their breath mingled and Logan's eyes darted down to his boyfriend’s lips.

“I expect you to rip this movie apart with me,” Virgil whispered.

“Obviously.”

He wasn’t sure who leaned forward first, but by the time Shan Yu had come on screen, Virgil’s lips were soft against his.

He did know that Virgil was the first to pull back and shovel another chopstick full of fried rice into his mouth.

“This guy sucks,” Virgil said, jabbing a single finger at Shan Yu. “I hope that when he goes to charge his phone, it only works at a certain angle.”

“He’s the villain- I- wait. Virgil, they don’t have phones-”

Virgil stuck a dumpling into his open mouth.

[acuppellarp]

Welcome (back!) to A Cup-pella, Ace! We’re excited to have you and Elijah Love in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Ace + she/her/it Age: 32 Timezone: CST Ships: Elijah/Cello Solo, Elijah/The New York Philharmonic Anti-Ships: Elijah/Forced

IC INFO

Full Name: Elijah Elise Love Face Claim: Dewanda Wise Age/Birthday: 29/Nov 11th Occupation: The Chelsea Symphony (Cello), Personal Music Teacher (Cello/Violin/Viola/Bass), Always Preparing for a New York Philharmonic audition Personality: Stubborn, guarded, protective, independent, compassionate, nurturing Hometown: North Bethesda, MD Bio: When politics is the family business, there are always heavy expectations on every member of said family. And that old adage is true, image is everything. Even before the invasive nature of social media, proper conduct in every public setting wasn’t a suggestion but a written in stone rule. Katherine Thompson and Michael Love both grew up in families that had some hand in the political world. From advisors to lobbyist to congressman. These two families traveled in important circles, so it was no surprise to anyone when Kate and Mike found one another. The match was pleasing to their families, to say the least, they looked good on paper, a couple of lawyers headed for the senate. It was a perfect match, it was just lucky for the pair they’d actually fallen in love with one another.

The outside view of the pair’s life was picturesque. They married, practiced law at separate but equally prominent firms, before both throwing their hats in the political ring. Michael hated every minute of all of it, but there were those pesky expectations to live up to. Katherine, on the other hand, thrived. She was meant for that world, not simply breed for it. Katherine was a rising political star.

Elijah Elise Love came at the complete wrong time but she was adored, especially by her father, he doted completely. Three years later one little Evelyn Anissa Love completed the brood. Michael took to fatherhood immediately, and it wasn’t long before he decided to take a job at a small nonprofit and help support his wife’s political career by being the primary caregiver to their children. He had finally found his calling, husband and father. Music lessons, dance recitals, elementary school bake sales, he was there for it all, and never made his wife feel an ounce of guilt for missing most of it. He was his girls’ whole world, until that fateful day when being at the wrong place at the wrong time turned that world upside down and ended a life.

A young Elijah wanted nothing more than to make her mother proud. The loss of her father left such a hole, and  though she was aware she would never be able to fill that space for her mother and sister she could portray the image everyone wanted to see, perfect dutiful daughter. When her mother went back to her office Elijah kept up appearances at school and helped take care of her little sister. At first she was all too happy to do it but over time it became suffocating. The one thing that gave Elijah solace when things got too difficult or her anxiety was too high was music. The girl was a natural with every instrument she tried, a favorite of every private music tutor her mother sent in, but there was something magical about the strings, especially the Cello. It was large and she felt powerful wielding it. Being the perfectionist that she was, Elijah practiced whenever she had a free moment, and that along with her natural musicality made for something like a prodigal experience.

While the widowed mother of two’s political star continued to rise, her actual presence in her home became more sparse. She always made time for them when it was time for a photo-op, Elijah noted, but her mother couldn’t be bothered when it really mattered. Evelyn needed someone to be there and Elijah was it. She checked homework and made snacks for sleepovers, and braided hair for special occasions. At the tender age of 14 Elijah’s Cello instructor presented an opportunity for her to attend Interlochen Center for the Arts. Elijah decided to turn it down, without so much as a mention to her mother, because if she were gone who would take care of her sister? Though it was a choice she began to have feelings of resentment, and though she never took that out on Evelyn, Elijah found small ways of rebelling. She got her nose pierced, died her hair blue, she was certainly not what her mom considered photo-op ready any longer. It also made for a few issues in her school orchestra performances, but when you were as great as Elijah, you couldn’t be denied.  

High school was a continuous battle for Elijah and her mother but eventually, while the teen experimented with looks and hung out with “questionable” associates her mother didn’t approve of, they found ways of compromising. As long as her mother didn’t restrict her music, she would make it work, for her sister’s sake. In the end she was still that responsible perfectionist who deep down just wanted to make everyone proud, as much as she fought against that fact.  

After months of rehearsal and a fairly intense application process, Elijah was accepted to Juliard School of Music, continuing her love affair with the cello, and still remaining close enough to home, to get to her sister whenever she was needed. The new found freedom away from the public eye was an awakening for her. New experiences unhindered by persona. She could breath, and she could be asked out by the girl who she’d been stumbling around for weeks and say yes without the scrutiny and worry of what having a gay daughter meant for her mother’s political career prospects. What a revelation.

Eventually Elijah got her Masters and began playing in the Chelsea Symphony Orchestra, following in her father’s non profit footsteps, as well as giving private lessons. She’s always dreamed of playing with the New York Philharmonic but always has an excuse as to why she has to put it off, but she has vowed to make her 30th year audition year. Being a serious classical musician who doesn’t necessarily look the part both opens and closes doors for her but she’s found her own vibe and is comfortable in her skin and doesn’t believe her music requires her to compromise that… so maybe the Philharmonic will accept her crazy curls and all.

Pets: Salem (black cat)

Relationships:

Rachel Berry, Dani Harper, Stevie Evans: Roommates, Elijah gets along with all of them. She doesn’t step on any toes, but she may irritate with in apartment practice. She’d make up for it with really good homemade whatever their little hearts desired.

Darcy Allen: Surprisingly to some the physical exertion required,  and the amount of injuries sustained, to be an orchestra musician rivals that of athletes. Darcy keeps Elijah from completely falling apart and she’s pretty easy to talk to as well.

EXTRA INFO

Elijah Love/@E_Cellove/description: Sister, Cellist, Teacher. It’s never too late to start again.

Five latest tweets:

@E_Cellove: There is cheeto dust on my bow, I’m going to hang someone’s child from a line

@E_Cellove: My 2 yr old niece just played a song she composed on the piano #prodigy

@E_Cellove: Guess who’s going to be a Blackspert on Smart Funny and Black!

@E_Cellove: I accidentally got spicy gauc and you all know I’m a wimp 😭

@E_Cellove: Crooklyn is on, my favorite Spike Lee joint and I have my tissues ready.

[wagingwar-rp]

Welcome to Waging War, Amanda. The role of Alecto Carrow is now taken.

I fell in love with your interpretation of Alecto. You’ve made her unique and strong in her own right, Especially your details in the Boggart and personality traits section, as well as your para sample, really stood out. You’re very dedicated and I can’t wait to see your Alecto in action. I’m sure you’ll reveal her full potential in no time and wreak havoc with her once we’ve started roleplaying.  I’m glad you’ve applied and there’s nothing I can do than give her into your capable hands. Your FC change to Evan Rachel Wood has been accepted! -- Admin Sass. Please submit your blog in the next 24 hours and follow all other steps on our checklist.

OOC INFORMATION

NAME: Amanda. PRONOUNS: Her/She.  AGE: 22.  TIMEZONE: EST. ACTIVITY-LEVEL: 7 to 8. I’m finishing up my final class to get my degree, moving to a new state and hopefully starting a job. So until my class is over & I’m settled, my replies will probably be limited to what I can get done at night! But by the beginning of July I should hopefully bump to an 8-9.  TRIGGERS: removed by the admin. ANYTHING ELSE: I’m so excited to be applying with you guys because this group looks amazing. I’m hoping everything turned out alright, but the html formatting threw me a bit when filling out the application, so apologies in advance if anything is wrong! Thanks for taking the time to consider my application x.

IC INFORMATION

BASIC INFORMATION

CHARACTER YOU’RE APPLYING FOR: Alecto Carrow.  FACECLAIM: Evan Rachel Wood. REASON FOR YOUR CHOICE: I’ve written Alecto once or twice in the past, and quite honestly when I was originally drawn to this roleplay I’d been planning to apply for someone else. But when her character description was posted I swooned. I’m typically one for OC’s because it allows me inspiration but I almost immediately sat down to write. I think there is a lot of potential for her, and that’s something I’m excited to explore. 

MAGICAL TOOLS 

WAND:  Upon entering Ollivanders, Alecto tried a variety of different wands, but each seemed to send a spell ricocheting off the nearest object before something either burst into flames, or exploded. It was the fifth failure that caused her frustration, and the tenth that allowed her to believe she was broken. Each had felt horribly wrong within her grasp, wrong to the point where she cringed and set them down again before even bothering to test a spell. The outcome would be obvious.

The pattern continued until the thirteenth was finally - and almost reluctantly on the wand makers behalf - placed within her hand. The wand practically purred in delight and despite her earlier frustration, Alecto floated out of the store stocked on pure bliss.

Though it was - at least in her mind - a match made in heaven, mastery was perhaps hell. The wand demanded that she earned the right to wield it, a challenge Alecto willingly accepted. Since achieving that mastery, it satisfies her to know that it is her possession and won’t bend to anyone else’s will without a fight. Just like her. 

PATRONUS:  Though she has tried multiple times, Alecto is incapable of producing a patronus. The light that is emitted always sputters and flickers out within seconds, never taking a real form. Though it frustrates her, she’s determined. But of course the more she continues to try, the more she fails, and the more frustrated she becomes. It’s an endless, vicious cycle but her failures aren’t due to lack of effort. It’s a lack of a good, strong memory and pristine concentration. Sure, she has plenty of memories that light up some sort of spark in her heart, but none that sing to her soul. Even if there were a memory, her concentration is rubbish - interrupted by the thought of an impending future she’s not sure she wants any part of.

Had she been able to produce a patronus, it would have been a lion. Odd, considering her Hogwarts house, but horribly fitting. Protective [of those she cares for], brave [when prompted], a hunter [when desired], willing to fight, and part of a pride [something she currently lacks], Alecto is a lioness. She just needs a reason to prove it.

BOGGART: Alecto hates being vulnerable because it always seems to prompt Amycus into trying to protect her. So when Boggarts were brought into the classroom, he’d watched her like a hawk - fingers curled worriedly around his wand, ready to banish the creature within a moments notice. That needy protection had made her want to cringe. Though countless people before her in line had broken down or frozen up at the sight of their Boggart, she knew she’d be different. While others had been warranted a pass for their behavior, everyone knew her twin would swoop in to save the day. Judgement would shine in their eyes because it would only prove that a lady had no role in the impending war.

Placing herself toward the middle of the line of student, Alecto had carefully observed what those before her had witnessed and quickly made an educated guess on her own worst fears. It was why there was no shock when the doppleganger of her twin came swaggering out of the wardrobe, that confident grin smeared across his face. She’d never been victim to it - to the predatory look - but she could see why it made people want to turn tail and run the opposite direction. The phrases that rolled from his -its- tongue were exactly what she’d expected, and banishing the creature would have been easy - hardly an effort. This was a scenario she’d run over in her head countless times before because Alecto loved her family - would until her last breath - but if they ever thought they could walk all over her or throw her away without consequences, they were wrong. She’d rise stronger then before, and destroy them [and herself] in the process if that was what it took to prove herself. To prove them wrong. But the creature stayed, sneering upon her with clear disapproval. “You’ll never be anything more then a trophy wife - good for breeding. A pretty face and smart certainly - but nothing should pass your lips but a sweet ‘yes dear’ as you address your superiors. Your husband.” She had needed him to see it. Needed Amycus to understand her fears. But the creature rippled and shifted into her body on the floor - battered and bloodied - before disappearing into the wardrobe completely. Hands gripped her face gently, drawing her gaze as concern from her twin reflected back at her. He drew her from the front of the room, reassurances dripping from his lips like sweet honey. But it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

A LAYER DEEPER

PERSONALITY TRAITS:  Coquettish. It was one thing to stay within the Manor and be daddies little girl - to have things handed to you on a silver platter before you even asked for them. It was another to discover the real world didn’t function the way it did within the walls of the Carrow household. To get things you wanted, you’d be forced to get them yourself. Being one of the few females within Voldemort’s ranks, she’s come to the quick realization that relying on her brother isn’t something she can [or wants] to do - but a bit of flirtation can go a long way - particularly when people have no idea they’re being played.

Loyal. When she finds herself attached to something - whether it be a cause or a person - Alecto dedicates herself to it without question. The combined powers of Heaven and Hell could not stop her from protecting or helping those she cares for.

Enigmatic. Everyone has a mask, Alecto is just particularly good at wearing hers. While her personality is outwardly presented as something to push people away, she wants nothing more then for someone to see what lies underneath.

Stubborn. A trait paired with having a strong will. Once set on an opinion, it’s rather hard to sway her, even it it is wrong. She knows that in reality its something she’ll have to change in the future if she wants to appeal to the public eye, but until then she refuses to budge.

CONNECTIONS: Amycus Carrow. Should anything ever happen to him, Alecto would tear apart the world and still not be satisfied. They are two halves of the same whole, but she realizes that at times, she wants to be whole on her own. They’ve spent far to long relying on one another as a crutch, depending on the other to act or feel for them. She loves him, but she wants to stop being considered two for the price of one. Alone, she should be just as valuable, as should he.

Purebloods. Can we talk best friends since nappies? The friends that used to play house and pretend to be married? The friends that go shopping and gossip so brutally they could probably make someone cry? That giggle together? The friends who looks at Amycus and scoffs because he really isn’t that scary? Pft, and what about enemies? Like there has got to be some sneaky stuff going on; families trying to undermine one another, children growing up hating each other but pretending to be friends? GAH! There is literally so much you can do between pureblooded families alone [I mean hell - venture into the world beyond the U.K. and that expands like 1000%]. I think I could probably blabber on and on about how wondrous they could be before I even began to mention anyone else.

FUTURE PLOT IDEAS: Idea One: Alecto isn’t taken seriously; whether it’s within Voldemort’s army, or her own family, people her brush her off because she’s a women. She’s expected to follow orders [her father’s, Amycus, or Voldemort’s]. And it’s likely she only joined Voldemort for one of two reasons. [1] It was expected because of the whole blood purity aspect, [2] if she hadn’t, Amycus would have done so without her and she would have been left within her fathers clutches [can anyone say betrothal?]. Had it been up to her, she probably would have run off somewhere relatively safe with her brother and left the fighting up to everyone else. But it wasn’t up to her, and not joining would have left her unmemorable and unimportant. If anything, Alecto is a fighter. But I want her to take a step back and figure out if it’s what she wants, because I have a feeling no one has never genuinely asked what it is she wants, but rather they just assume they know whats best. What if she wants to travel? Have some whirlwind romance? To have a real career rather then be a housewife or socialite? To venture into the muggle world and actually see what she’s meant to be hating? I have the idea that she’s just so focused on pleasing others and proving herself that she’s hardly taken a breath to stop and figure herself out.

Idea Two: She has potential, but it’s untapped because no one has given her a real chance to prove herself yet. But that untapped potential is matched with unrelenting fury - someone just needs to teach her how to properly direct it. I can see one of two things happening, and they’re largely dependent on her interactions with other people. [1] Someone gives her a big old slap of reality. And by that I mean someone needs to somehow show her that the world is more then pureblooded royalty, and that muggles are actually okay [not that she would EVER admit that]. It would destroy everything her world was built on, and she’d come to a quick realization of why women haven’t been thrown onto the front lines before [lets be real, war would be over and done with in a day, and blood purity would probably not be a thing]. Put her on the opposite side she currently stands because she’s angry and that can be used against anyone. OR [2] Put her behind enemy lines as she tries to “reform” from her prejudice. Make her cuddle up to some muggleborns and halfbloods to do what she’s been taught - gather information and manipulate. Gain trust and destroy. 

SEXUALITY & SHIPS: Canon is cool and all, but I have and always will ship 100% for chemistry. I think it’s incredibly important for two characters [and in turn, their writers] to vibe off one another before anything becomes concrete. For that reason, I’m not going to set a sexuality because I want to leave myself open to possibilities.

That being said, I am a huge sucker for angst. Romeo/Juliet “we-cant-be-together-because-of-blahblahblah” nonsense? It is the peanut butter to my jelly. And I think contrast is beautiful so I’d loveeeee something like that. But again, chemistry all the way.

EXTRA SECTION

Alecto is actually my love, so you can find anything related to her on this mock blog. Most posts are inspo related, but anything that I’ve directly made will be tagged with wwtalk. But if you’re interested, the navi will take you to more direct posts [i.e. quotes, vanity, relationship inspo, etc].

PARA SAMPLE

Lips curled into an elegant smile, a bubble of laughter erupting as if the words from the woman she was listening to were the most intelligent and dreadfully amusing thing she’d heard all morning. Just as everything before that had been. Alecto tried -really tried- not to let it bother her. But each luncheon, or tea, or ladies gathering was slowly chipping away at her restraint. It was for the greater good. At least that’s what they told her. So she put on a dress that complimented her curves, and a dazzling smile before joining the rest of the mindless bimbos who simpered over the idea of winning a pureblooded husband with good standing. Pathetic.

That day, all it took was a singular comment to form the crack, and another backhanded remark to send her rage shattering completely. She’d struggled to conceal it, fingers twitching beneath the table, itching for her wand and instead curling painfully into the folds of her dress as one of the pureblooded women gave her a pitying look. Alecto had wanted to scream. To sneer in their faces and draw a wand because realistically they would have expected men to do the fighting; women were meant for social destruction, not the physical kind. Instead her lips had drawn into a thin-lipped smile - one that visibly unsettled several of the women present, but she’d stayed at the luncheon. She was just the victim of that gathering. It would change next time they met, it always did. But she stayed because it was what they would have wanted.

The moment her feet hit the cobblestone outside of Carrow Manor, the door swung open to reveal her house elf. The rage must have been rolling off her in waves because the creature quietly took her coat without so much as glancing up from the floor. It even went so far as to thank her for allowing it the pleasure of serving her.

She didn’t stop moving, not until the door of her room had been spelled shut and silencing charms were firmly in place. Only then did her wand draw and only then did destruction rain from the heavens. Feathers floated through the air from destroyed pillows, vases shattered, glass cracked.

How dare they shove her into a corner and ask her to play nice with the rest of the pureblooded women. How dare they require that she attend luncheons and teas to “gather pertinent information,” HA! As if it was ever anything useful. Who gave two flying hippogriffs if someone was cheating on her husband with some pool boy-esque younger pureblood? How was that helping their mission? How was gossip doing them any good?

The only reason she’d been offered entrance into their exclusive little club was because of him. Her twin. A two for one deal. “No me, not without her.” At least that’s what he claimed. But she knew better. Knew it was just some excuse to keep her close. To keep her “safe” until their father was stupid enough to marry her off to some other pureblood. But that was the point of the entire thing, wasn’t it? The luncheons, the teas? They had accepted her because of Amycus, but she was nothing more then a joke in their eyes. A joke that would be pushed aside once a betrothal began. After all, a wifes job was to produce an heir and a spare, to socialize with women of her standing and plan get togethers - not fight in a war.

Drained of any remaining fight, she sank onto her bed, head falling into her hands. The only sounds in the room were the quiet dusting of feathers as they drifted to the ground, and a small clock she’d somehow managed not to destroy.