#I know I am being insufferable it’s like silence and then 8 million posts about total nonsense and bs and I’m sorry

[mr-chrisevans]

for the drabble requests could you do number 8 with chris please!

Here we go! I actually had a great time writing this so I hope you enjoy it! More to come tomorrow in all likelihood but check out the original post here for more prompts.

Title: Happy Holidays, I Guess

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Prompt: “Look, I only came here for the Christmas cookies.”

You sat in your car outside the house for a few minutes, trying to find the will to go inside. The last thing you wanted to do was go to a holiday party filled with people from your hometown, but Chris insisted you come with him. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you quickly pulled it out to see a text from Chris.

Chris

I can see your car outside.

Get in here or I will pull you out of the car myself don’t try me.

Y/N

God you are the worst.

You sighed heavily and finally got out of the car, carefully making your way up the driveway in the snow to make it to the front door. Before you could even knock Chris was standing in the doorway beaming.

“Y/N, you are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, but I’m really glad to see you.” He pulled you inside and shut the door behind you.

“Look, I only came here for the Christmas cookies.” You shrugged off your coat and let him hang it up for you in the coat closet. “The fact that I let you convince me to do this is a testament to your skills of persuasion.”

“I know our hometown friends aren’t exactly your favorite people, but we can spend tonight making fun of all the people who were really shitty in high school and are now horrifically boring.”

“With that I guess I’m not only here for the cookies.” You joked.

Chris laughed and wrapped an arm around you and lead you into the kitchen. “Let’s get you something to drink because I think you’re going to need it.”

The second you got to the kitchen you were bombarded by hellos and questions about how you’ve been doing since you moved and a million other questions that you had absolutely zero desire to answer but had to be nice. Chris discreetly handed you a beer as you started talking to Kelly, the girl who hated you for two years because you beat her out for the lead part in the fall play sophomore year. “Yeah, I really love New York it’s a fantastic city.” You smiled at her. “How about you, what have you been doing?” You asked politely with no actually interest in what her answer was going to be.

“Well, George and I got married earlier this year so that’s been the most exciting thing ever.” She beamed at you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Chris mouth ‘Not surprised’, and you tried not to laugh as she kept talking. “Not nearly as exciting as being a writer in New York though.” She said with the tiniest edge of sarcasm in her voice.

“Well, you know, everyone’s got something don’t they. It’s been great talking to you Kelly but I think we’ve got to make some rounds and say hi.” You quickly excused yourself and grabbed Chris’ arm and pulled him with you into a corner of the living room. The fake smile you had plastered on your face quickly melted off. “I’ve been here all of fifteen minutes and it is already insufferable.” You took a long sip of your beer and looked at all the people sitting in the living room. “I don’t even see any cookies here.”

“Wait here, I will be right back.” He walked back into the kitchen and left you leaning on the back windows by yourself, observing the people you went high school with as they steadily got drunker and devolved into their high-school selves. “Voila!” Chris exclaimed as he walked back over to you, an entire tray of decorated cookies in hand. “I promised cookies and now I have delivered.”

“Oh thank god.” You took a cookie off the tray and bit into it immediately. “That’s a damn good cookie.” You said as you chewed.

“Well thank you, I made these myself.” He said with a smile on his face.

“You are such a liar I saw these exact cookies at the grocery store the other day.”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t make them, but I did buy them so that counts for something.”

You chuckled at him and continued eating your cookie. “How come we never got invited to parties like this in high school? I mean, we weren’t that weird, were we?” You asked.

“We definitely weren’t weirder than any of the other theater kids, but I’m pretty sure Kelly had you on the party blacklist after the Midsummer Night’s Dream debacle. And since I was your best friend they stuck me on there too.”

“I fucking knew it.” You laughed. “She never could have pulled off Hermia though, let’s be honest.”

“Being Hermia was probably your finest hour of high school theater. Perfect performance, if you ask me.”

“I can’t believe her and George are still together. How on Earth did that happen?”

“I know, it makes literally no sense.” Chris said. “I swear I heard he cheated on her when they were in college with some girl he met when he went abroad for a semester.”

You laughed. “I would not put it past him, I mean look at him now.” George sat perched on the arm of the sofa talking very animatedly with a girl who was definitely not Kelly. “What a prick.”

Chris looked at his watch for a second, sighed, and turned to you. “I think we’ve been here long enough, shall we go for an Irish exit?”

“I would love nothing more.” You agreed excitedly and quickly finished your beer before following him out to the front hall. You both pulled on your coats as you walked out the door. “Shit.” You said, stopping on the driveway. “I should have grabbed another cookie.”

Chris stopped for a second and looked down the street, thinking. “Toss me your keys, I have an idea.”

“You want to drive my car?” You asked skeptically.

“Oh come on. I’m a much better driver than I was in high school.” You hesitated still before finally tossing him the keys. “Thank god, it’s fucking cold out here.” He ran over to the car and threw himself into the driver’s seat.”

“So where exactly are we headed?” You asked as he started the car and pulled back on to the street.

“It’s a surprise. Trust me you’ll love it.” The two of you drove for a few minutes in a comfortable silence while cheesy Christmas songs played on the radio. Before too long, Chris pulled into the parking lot of the old diner in town and turned off the car. “Well, surprise!”

“Shit, I haven’t been to Jack’s in ages. I don’t even remember the last time I was here.”

He got out of the car and gestured for you to do the same. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

You walked inside the building, the warm air and smell of coffee greeting you. “Go ahead and take a seat anywhere, we’ll be over to help you in a second.” The woman behind the counter told the two of you. You both smiled and made your way to a booth. There were only a few other people there so it was pretty quiet and you managed to snag the booth you used to always sit at. 

“I don’t even have to look at a menu, I know exactly what I am getting.” You said as you slid into the booth opposite Chris.

He grinned. “I knew you would love this. You can never beat a late night trip to Jack’s”

“God, we used to do this all the time. No wonder my acne was so bad, Jesus.” You joked and the two of you laughed.

“We were definitely here way too often. That’s probably why everyone thought we were weird. They were out getting drunk in someone’s unfinished basement and we were here trying to see who could drink a milkshake the fastest.”

“And I beat you every time.” You said proudly.

“I was just very sensitive to cold, it’s not my fault.” He responded, trying to defend himself.

“Excuses, excuses.” He tried to continue his defense but the woman behind the counter had made her way over to take your order. 

She set down two glasses of water on the table before pulling out a little notepad from her apron. “What can I get started for you two tonight?” Her thick Boston accent made you feel even more at home in the diner.

“I will have the classic grilled cheese and tomato soup please.” 

She turned to Chris. “And for you?”

His eyes lingered on the menu for a moment before he looked back at the waitress. “I will have the cheeseburger and fries and we will split a chocolate milkshake.” He looked at you and smiled as she wrote down the order.

“I’ll be right back with all that. Anything else I can get for you besides water?”

“No I think we’re all set,” you replied. “Thank you.” 

“I think we’ve talked enough about the past tonight, it’s time to move on to the present.” Chris said, holding his glass of water between is hands as he leaned into the table. “How’s New York been lately?”

You sighed and played with your straw. “I mean, don’t get me wrong I absolutely love the city, but sometimes it can be a lot.”

He nodded along with you. “I totally get it. Work has been okay though, right?” He continued. You chewed on your lip a little and stared into your glass of water. “I take that as a no.” He added and leaned back into the booth.

You stared up at him. “No, it’s definitely not given that I no longer have a job.”

“Shit, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You tried to shrug it off. “It’ll be okay. I’ll figure something out soon.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to come to the party, wasn’t it?”

“And he puts the pieces of the puzzle together.” You lifted your glass to him in mock cheers. “I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to tell people here that I was now officially unemployed.”

“Right before Christmas too. Fucking rough.”

“We always knew my boss was a dick and now we have the ultimate proof.” You joked.

“If he didn’t live in an apartment in New York I would say we should egg his house.”

“Damn, that would’ve been amazing.” You both laughed.

“Well, let’s toast,” he said, gesturing for you to lift your glass with him, “to things being even marginally less shitty next year.” You clinked your glasses together and took a sip of your water. 

“That is definitely something I can drink to.” 

[moritzstiefelwiki]

It's Called Peacocking and I Will Have None of It

Hernst | 1748 Words | AO3

In which Ernst loves guys with nice abs and loses control of his mouth while trying to prove how not-gay he is.

This started as a joke and kind of? Spiralled a bit? I'm havin fun tho. Shoutout to @melgayiorgabor for beta reading and @alloftheus-es for helping me Keep Things Moving,, I lov u guys. Ab rant taken from here

Ernst loved Instagram. He wasn’t following a lot of people, outside of his friend group he followed 7 or 8 artists and a few photographers. He spent plenty of times in the tags so it didn’t matter, and besides he needed his feed to be as uncluttered as possible for a very important reason.

See, here’s the thing about his friend group- it included Hanschen Rilow and Melchior Gabor. They were both intelligent, insufferable (though in entirely different ways), and easy on the eyes. Of course, he had to follow Hanschen, the two of them were quite close and that’s what friends do. They follow each other. Melchior, of course, was close enough to Ernst that it made perfect sense to follow him as well.

Ernst would never admit it but the only reason he had gotten Instagram in the first place is because of the amount of times he caught Hanschen taking shirtless selfies- you can’t just stare at someone’s abs in real life, but it’s perfectly safe to do so through a screen. And, as he found out, Hanschen wasn’t the only one. He was looking through the accounts Hanschen followed, checking anyone with a familiar username or icon and found Melchior did the same thing. As did Bobby Maler.

Ernst didn’t have any reason to explain why he followed Bobby, the two of them had spoken maybe twice in the past year, but he had to. Bobby, Hanschen, and Melchior were all well-built and had no problems with showing off.  

And god, he was glad that they did.

Ernst was scrolling lazily through his feed as he ate his lunch. Wendla was leaning against his shoulder as she chatted with Ilse. He put his phone down so he could rummage through his bag for his water bottle, not bothering to lock the screen.

“Why does Hanschen post so many pictures of his abs?” Ernst turned to Wendla as she spoke, she was looking down at his phone where one of Hanschen's many pics of him lifting his shirt up just so was displayed.

Ilse laughed, “He’s an asshole, it’s probably the only way he can get anyone to go out with him. Hey, Ernst do you know why he likes to post so many shirtless pics? You’re his best friend aren’t you?”

“I think he just likes the attention- look at the comments on this one,” he pulled them up and held his phone out to show her.

Wendla rolled her eyes, “I don’t think it matters why he does it, he posts way too many of these.”

Ernst disagreed, Hanshen could post a new one every hour and he would be more than happy to see them.

God, he sounds gay. Ilse is practically a mind reader, what if she suspects he likes Hanschen- she wouldn’t be wrong but- oh god-

“If I want to get a girl, I don't need to show my abs- mainly 'cause they don't exist. And I don't want to have to do this but I'm gonna. Why do people show their abs on the internet?” Why was he speaking? “Why is it that when I go on the internet I have to weed through so many photos of guys just- lifting their shirts up to expose this part of their stomach, which is rock hard by the way,” he cringed internally a little bit, that sounded gay, oh hell, “I don't know. I don't get it,” he paused for a moment.

“Why? What good does it do? Are they doing this and taking the photo thinking  that ‘maybe if I do this just enough, somewhere in Africa a young child will get to the watering hole knowing that I was thinking about them.’”

The girls were laughing. Why can’t he stop?

"'I need people to know that I've got a flat stomach because I don't want them thinking I've got some sort of weird torso hole because they're going to start putting things in it’"

What is he saying, what on Earth is that even supposed to mean?

"'If the internet knows that I have a flat stomach, we will win the war on terror.’"

He heard a third laugh, this time from behind him. “What, is that supposed to be me?” Hanschen. Perfect, just what he needed.

He could feel his cheeks start heating up a little bit.

Ernst didn’t think before continuing, he couldn’t afford to, “Look, it's called peacocking and I will have none of it, you animalistic fuck.  Maybe you should try working on something that matters instead of your lower torso-- where those lines go that point to your dick like a weird, subliminal message. If you want people to know about this whole area of your body, just put it on your business card. You could say like-  ‘Dick Johnson, ab enthusiast.’"

Ernst could see the concern creeping into Hanschen’s expression, tainting his amusement. “Are you alr-”

“That way they know they don't want to hang out with you.” Ernst hated himself for being responsible for the hurt look that flashed across Hanschen’s face.

For reasons unknown, he continued talking.

“You can usually tell that people have abs just by looking at them, nobody is ever surprised to find out that somebody has abs. Woah Dickhead Jones! I didn't-” he faltered for a second when he saw the way Hanschen's jaw clenched, “would have never guessed! Never in a million years would've known that you have a flat stomach.” He didn't love the look in Hanschen's eyes. “You only tweet about going to the gym all the time and you wear a t-shirt that's kinda like saran wrap"

Hanschen laughed again, this time it almost sounded forced, “you love it.” He did. “Look,  ladies you don't want a guy that has a flat stomach because the whole time he's with you he's gonna be thinking ‘Jeez, this might be good for my abs.’” Jeez, he really needed to stop talking. "'Oh, I wonder what my abs think of this.’" Oh, why is he still going on about this?

“And guys like me, we're only thinking, y'know, ‘I really hope this doesn't make me fart.’” Ernst wanted to curl up and die, “and that's for you really, that's all for you 'cause I don't care where I fart.”  He really needs to stop. “If my pants are off, it doesn't matter where I'm farting 'cause the whole front row is getting wet.”

Oh, God.

The girls were laughing but he paid no attention to them.

Hanschen wasn't laughing. His face was suspiciously neutral.

“We’ll huddle over the Homer, maybe do a little Achilles and Patroclus.”

Ernst hadn't missed the innuendo when Hanschen approached him after school and asked him if he wanted to study, he just hadn’t thought anything of it. It wasn’t unusual for him to say things like that- he’d been “flirting” and using pick up lines on Ernst for as long as he could remember. Sometimes he was cheesy, sometimes he was clever, sometimes he was dirty, and sometimes he was just downright terrible. Ernst had figured it was just practice- just Hanschen’s way of keeping his mind sharp for when he was actually flirting with someone.

He felt awful about the things he had said at lunch earlier that day and nearly declined Hanschen’s invitation to study, but he took the pick up line as a sign Hanschen wasn’t (as) upset anymore (not that he would ever admit to being hurt in the first place) and Ernst really needed help with calculus, he was dangerously close to falling behind again.

The walk to Hanschen’s house started fine, but it wasn’t long until they fell into a tense silence.

Hanschen was the one who broke it.

“You're very passionate about abs, aren't you Ernst?”

Somehow this threw Ernst off more than any of the things Hanschen had said in the past week- including the time he punctuated a breathy “I like to keep my hands busy” by squeezing Ernst's inner thigh.

“No.” What was the point in lying, if he couldn't talk to him about this then who? “Yes? Maybe not passionate but-” He shook his head before continuing, “I'm really sorry about what I said earlier. It's just-” He stopped walking. “I just really like all those pictures you post.”

Hanschen stopped as well and turned to face him. “Oh?”

“I didn't want the girls to know, I'm sorry, I got nervous and just started talking and I couldn't stop. I'm gay, Hanschen.”

“You're gay? You like men?” Hanschen looked incredulous. “You mean to tell me you're attracted to men and none of the flirting, none of it, had any kind of effect on you?” This time Hanschen was the one shaking his head, “Christ, I thought you were straight. Am I really that bad at hitting on you?”

“You- what?”

“Surely you must have noticed, I've been far from subtle about this for how many years?”

“I didn't? I mean, I did, I didn't think you meant any of it.”

“You can't be serious.” Hanschen sighed, “what on Earth would make you think that? You know I'm not straight.”

“Yes, but-”

“What's the problem then?”

“Why would you want to flirt with me?”

“Why would I- because I like you, you moron!”

“You what?” It was Ernst's turn to look incredulous. “But you're-” he gestured vaguely at Hanschen “-you.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know?” He paused for a moment as his mind caught up with the conversation, “hold on did you just say that you like me?”

Hanschen laughed, “how much clearer do I need to make myself? It's not a problem, is it?”

“A problem?” Ernst's hands were suddenly very interesting. “No, definitely not a problem.”

“So then wha- mmph!”

Ernst had, in a brilliant moment of definitely not thinking, all but lunged at Hanschen and kissed him.

He pulled away from Hanschen after he realized exactly what he had just done and looked at his (surprisingly flushed) face. He had a feeling his own face was pink as well.

Oh god, he really shouldn't have done that.

Hanschen brought his right hand up to gently cup the back of Ernst's neck and pull him into another kiss, this one brief and gentle.

Or maybe he really should've done it sooner.

“Let's go Ernst, this is hardly the place for Achilles and Patroclus.”

His calculus grade was about to drop, wasn't it?