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ccalhoun · 2 years

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Edward Nashton x Psychiatrist!Male!Reader

req?: yep!

warnings: smut, male reader, ftm reader, bottom reader, sub reader, no mention of reader's chest, pre-op reader, top edward, soft dom edward, slightly switchy edward, edward is a bit of a creep, edward is taller than reader but it's not said by how much, porn with plot, vaginal penetration, p in v sex, terms "cunt" and "clit" used, pet names, long fic

note: sorry about not posting

cut for length!

Edward Nashton, your best patient. After meeting with the other psychiatrists, he said he would only talk to you. Ed stood by his promise, whenever anyone who wasn't you walked into the room he would refuse to talk. Arkham soon complied with his request and you were his official psychiatrist. You were so nice to him too, bringing papers for him to draw or write on, asking your boss to get Ed new glasses, bringing Ed books, small stuff that just made his day.

It was time for another session with Ed, you grabbed some blank paper and a new green pen you got just for Ed, a new book for him, and your usual papers that you fill out every session. You walked down the cold corridors to the therapy room, it was unusually quiet as most of the other patients were out in the cafeteria. You opened the door and saw Edward sitting, staring at his hands. As normal, Edward had his wrists chained and was sitting at his side of the table waiting for you.

"Hi, Eddie!" You said, Ed gave you a small wave and smiled. You sat your stuff down on the table and were going to sit down before noticing that his glasses were still cracked, you leaned over and lightly held the edge of his glasses by the crack in his clear glasses. "Gosh, still cracked? I am so sorry, Eddie, I have been talking to management about getting you new ones," As you spoke, Ed's face flushed a little at the proximity, your faces so close Ed could see every little detail.

You leaned back and sat down, pulling out the papers and pen you got for Ed, he loved to write in his code while you two talked. You could never figure out how he was able to engage in conversation and write his notes simultaneously, but the skill was admirable. You set them in front of him with the new book, it was a sort of schedule for you two when you did your weekly meetings. Once you got your paperwork ready, you looked up at Edward who was reading the synopsis of the new book while he waited.

"So, Ed," You stated to catch his attention, "How have you been feeling this past week?" You asked. It was a question you always asked at the beginning of every session, it was the question every psychiatrist asked but you had cared for him and his feelings the past months you got to know him. Ed was very kind and caring for others around him, he paid attention to everything that was happening around him and hardly seemed like a violent criminal.

"I've been ok, lots of stressful things have been happening and there's been a lot of changes around Arkham that I don't like. Everything has been happening so suddenly and it's been making me want to hurt the other inmates," Ed said, he was always honest with you. You jotted that down and filled out that he's been thinking of hurting others. You looked back up at him from your papers.

"Have you been thinking of hurting yourself?" You asked, genuinely worried. You weren't supposed to pick favorites but, Ed was the nicest of all the patients at Arkham and you could never live with the thought that you weren't able to help him. He hesitated before speaking, seemingly nervous to speak at all.

"Some thoughts, yes, but I swear I would never put them into action. I promise," Ed spoke as if he was comforting you, truth was he cared about you more than you could ever know. The things he wrote in his code were always about how nice you looked or about how you seemed especially caring that session. Your face filled with relief at the promise, and you wrote something down in your notes before looking back up at him.

"And, how has your anxiety been on a scale of one to ten?" You stated what was on the papers and were legally bound to ask, you never liked the questions much but asked them anyways. Luckily, Ed always answered even if neither of you liked the repetitive and annoying questions. The next few minutes go like that, you ask questions and write things down. After the questions you smiled at Edward, he was slowly getting better.

"Eddie, you're doing better than last week!" You said happily, you set your papers down and looked at the camera for a quick minute before turning back to Edward, "Are you ok with hugs?" You asked him, Ed's face filled with excitement at the question, nodding furiously with excitement. He never thought the day would come when you finally hug him! You swiftly got up and went to the other side of the table, embracing Ed in a warm hug. Ed tried his best to hug you back with his cuffed hands, but he was happy to be getting any contact at all.

You pulled away from the hug and sat back down across from Edward, looking down at the papers you gave Edward you noticed that they were all nearly full. He was a fast writer and in a language that wasn't even English, in a language he made up himself!

"Are you liking the green pen I got you?" The words left your mouth before you could even think about them, you were glad you said them as after you spoke, Edward started ranting about it and how smooth it was and how the color was his favorite shade of green. You caught yourself staring and snapped yourself out of it. You looked at the sheets again, all in his code! From what you knew, only Batman, the GCPD, and Edward himself knew it.

"Are you ever going to teach me this code?" You were curious about what he wrote. Edward quickly shoved the papers into a single pile, his hands were slightly bruised and had small cuts on them, you took quick notice and scrapped your previous thought. One of your hands shot to his and held it a bit closer to your face. "Did someone do this to you? Is there someone I need to report?" You rushed out, your tone was that of anxiety, who would do that to him in the first place?

Edward didn't say anything at first, he could feel your breath on his hand and you were so worried for him, his feelings of love only grew more at that moment. You were so gentle and nice compared to how others treated him, it was like you were an angel sent from heaven specifically to help him.

"No one did it, I'm fine. I just got frustrated and needed to punch something," Ed said calmly, he didn't take his hand from your loving touch, your skin was warm and soft compared to his rough and slightly calloused hands. You stayed staring at his hand and kept it in your grasp.

"If someone hurts you please, let me know. I want you to be safe here, Eddie," You looked up at him as you spoke, essentially begging him to speak to you. He took that sign and planned to use it for later use. Another inmate was bothering him, but he would tell you that at a more fitting time.

"I will don't worry," Ed said softly, he moved his hand from your grasp and cupped your face for a few seconds before moving his hand back down to the table. Your face flushed lightly from him touching you and you shook the thoughts from your head, he was your patient after all! Edward noticed the blush which only motivated him to earn your love more, in his eyes you were the adorable psychiatrist who loved him.

You checked your watch, you two had almost 20 minutes still left. You decided to look back at your paperwork and saw you had some space left you talked to him about how he was interacting with the other inmates. You soon found out they liked him for coming up with plans to kill the mayor and explode the sea walls, but still gave him shit and either ignored him or mocked him.

You wrote down how he had made one friend-ish, their cells were next to each other and they talked and told riddles to each other. You were happy about the news and after you two talked Edward asked about you, which wasn't what you were expecting but you trusted him enough to talk.

"Well, I don't do a lot since most of my day is spent in Arkham, but I go out with friends now and then!" You spoke truthfully. Edward looked engrossed with you, you didn't say much after that as a guard came in and said that your time was over. You smiled softly at Ed and stood up, you gathered your papers and the papers from Ed, letting him keep the book. You said goodbye and said you'd see him next week, walking back to your office.

You walked through the chilly halls of Arkham, and the patients yelled at you as they tended to do. You didn't mind much, there was no way they could break out and hurt you. You unlocked the door to your office and walked inside, closing the door behind you. You sat down at your desk and worked on digitalizing the files. As you sat, you realized you had never gotten the green pen or even seen it at all.

In Edward's cell, they took off his chains. He had nabbed the pen without you or the guard noticing and took it apart in his cell. He looked outside the bars of his cage and noticed one guard was busy watching a TV in his office and the other was doing who knows what. Ed was careful and concise as he picked the door of his cell door, he made sure to be quiet and when he knew the door was unlocked, he slowly opened it and closed it softly so it barely made a noise.

Edward made his way towards your office, he took the time to learn your exact schedule, knowing when you had appointments with other patients and when you left to go home, he knew almost everything about you. He got to your office and heard the clicking of keys on your keyboard and was thrilled to know that you didn't even notice he stole the pen from you to his knowledge at least.

Edward knocked on your door, listening to the sound of your shoes tapping against the hard floor. You opened the door and there he was, Edward's hand shot up and covered your mouth before you could say anything that would give his presence away. He slowly backed you up into your room, he took the hand that was over your mouth away and used it to close the door and lock it.

"Listen, I have a good explanation, I swear! I just, took your pen and I feel so bad and I wanted to see you and-" Edward started, his ramblings filling up the air of your cold office. You cut him off by holding your finger up, Edward understood and quickly stopped talking. You looked at him sympathetically.

"What was the real reason you broke out of your cell? We had a session earlier, did something happen?" You asked, he was harmless so you weren't too worried about him hurting you in any way. He looked more nervous than threatening, his stance was closed in and he was twiddling his thumbs mindlessly.

"Well, I just like you a lot. Romantically, I mean. I'm constantly thinking of you. In our session today you looked extra nice and all I could think about was how handsome you are. Everything about you is more beautiful than anything any artist could depict," Edward said, as he spoke your hand lowered to your side and he stepped closer to you. You always thought Ed was cute and sweet, and maybe if you met him under different circumstances you would date him. Unfortunately, in reality, you were his psychiatrist, he was your patient.

"Eddie, if you weren't a patient I would but I can't," You spoke softly and gently, you felt a little bad. Edward just poured his heart out to you and as much as you liked him you couldn't date him. Ed's smile went away instantly, he wanted it to work between you.

"Why can't you date me? We can keep it a secret, no one will know except us," Ed pushed, he made a good point. Normally, your patients were completely unwell and wanted to actively hurt everyone around them. Ed was better, he just took his sense of justice a bit too far. In almost every aspect, Ed was a good person.

"You're right, but please don't tell anyone about it. As much as I like you, I don't want to get fired," You finally said, Ed was overjoyed at the agreement. He quickly leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, his hand moving up to cup your cheek in a comforting manner just as he did during your session earlier that day. Edward pulled back from the kiss and looked at you, he had a blush sprinkled across his cheeks, though his expression was a little worried that you wouldn't like the kiss, and was pleasantly surprised when you leaned back up to kiss him again.

The hand that wasn't on your face moved to hold your waist and slowly backed you up towards your desk while you continued your make-out. Once you reached the edge of your desk, Edward drew back from the kiss and smiled at you.

"Do you really want to do this?" Edward's voice was soft, he was just double-checking that you consented. You gave a nod and Edward smiled before speaking again, "I need a verbal answer, baby,"

"Yes, I want to," You were quiet but Edward heard what you said, he kissed you on the cheek and moved the hand on your face down to match the one on your waist. He moved his hands down and hoisted you up on your desk, loving the way your arms shot to hold onto his upper arm to keep yourself steady.

"Before we start, I wanted to tell you that I'm trans," You rushed out, almost stuttering as the words tumbled from your mouth. Edward left another kiss on your cheek to reassure you as he figured out how he could put what he was going to say.

"I figured it out before, don't worry. I love you and I promise that you being trans won't stop that," Ed's voice was sweet, and as he spoke his hands got to work unbuttoning your shirt. Edward started gently kissing your neck, he knew he couldn't leave hickeys on your neck but loved the sounds that you made when his teeth lightly grazed your collarbone.

Edward's left hand moved to unbutton your pants and rub against you through your underwear. Edward's hand eventually moved out of your pants and used both of his hands to pull your pants down to about mid-thigh. Ed's right hand moved to hold the back of your neck while he started kissing you again, adding tongue and muffling your moans as his left hand returned to rubbing your cunt through your underwear.

Everything moved so fast, that before you could tell what was happening you were being bent over your desk and Ed was slowly fingering you to prep you for his cock. Edward was a bit over average, around 6 inches, and slightly girthy. After fingering you for a bit, he pulled out his fingers and gave his member a few pumps.

Ed led his cock into your hole with one hand, the other hand on the small of the back so you wouldn't squirm too much. Ed soon bottomed out and stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust. He figured you had done it about as many times as him, some experimenting in high school and a one-night stand here and there but he wasn't expecting you to be as tight as you were. He moved his hands so one was on each side of your head on your desk, he let out small whimpers as he held back from just thrusting into you early.

"Just move when you're ready," Ed stuttered out, panting as he restrained himself. After a little bit of you adjusting to his size, you lightly pushed back against him and moaned when you felt Ed's tip rub against your g-spot. Your knees went weak and you sought the pleasure again, Ed got the hint and chuckled lightly. Ed set a slow pace and sped up with each thrust, the hand that was on his cock moving to rub your clit. Your moans were like music to his ears, he was whispering sweet nothings to you as he guided you through your orgasm.

"Shh, shh, I got you," Ed cooed as you came around his cock, he let out a whine when your velvet walls clenched around him. Ed pulled out and jerked himself off the rest of the way, the sticky white substance landing on your lower back as he came with a moan.

You slowly stood back up, your legs shaking from the encounter. You turned around and landed a kiss on Ed's cheek before grabbing a tissue and cleaning up a bit, "Sorry about erm— the mess," You gestured towards the ring of your cream on Ed's cock.

"No need to apologize, darling," Ed said as he got a tissue and cleaned it off himself, throwing away the tissue afterward. "We need to do this again sometime," He said. As he was speaking he was pulling up the pants that the prison provided and buttoning them up. Ed adjusted his glasses and your soul left your body when you saw the sight in front of you. Ed's hair was messy and stuck to the slight sweat on his face and neck. Ed noticed your staring and let out another chuckle. "You'll have to wait before you can get my pants off again, m/n" Ed spoke in a teasing tone.

"Wait," You stuttered out, "How are you supposed to get back into your cell?" You said worriedly, you quickly pulled your underwear and pants back up and fixed your shirt, "I should walk you back to your cell so they won't have any questions," You rushed out, really just wanting to spend more time with your patient before seeing him again tomorrow. Ed agreed with a smile and made sure he looked like he didn't just rearrange your guts before standing by the door so you could escort him out.

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#ccalhoun #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #ftm reader #bottom reader

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chaoticspacefam · 7 months

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11, 15, 27 and 30 for Ahaszaai twins (questions for extraordinary muses)? (sorry if late)

From [Questions for 'Extraordinary' Muses]

(if you either want the list or wanna send in some more. Ik I rb'd this a while ago but after this & the blorbo bingo one(s) are answered the askbox is gonna be empty again so open to taking more if y'all want! 💪)

Thank you for the ask @a-master-procrastinator !! I had fun with this one hehe

Some notes:

Gonna take the stance of "ability" being the Force ability that they're most well-known for rather than just the Force as a whole because. That's not "extraordinary" in and of itself in the SWTOR universe xP Click the ability name for the Wookieepedia page in case you're not familiar with the Force ability itself and want a refresher/explanation! :3 For Saarai, it's psychometry and for Ni'kasi it's Force-walking

Also feel like it'd be more fun to answer these in-character for a change so that's what we're gonna do! 😊

Alrighty now that we're on the same page, onto the questions!! :'DD Under a cut bc it's a long post, no specific warnings needed other than spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor storyline if you haven't done it, some swearing, and some mild implied angst <3

11. Have you ever had an embarrassing moment while using your ability?

Saarai huffs softly, her jaw spurs rattling in embarrassment as she ducks her head and mutters. "Lana and Koth promised not to tell anyone!" she whines, staring at her own shoes for a moment, before begrudgingly looking up to answer. "...Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll admit it." the Pureblood shuffles her weight from one foot to another, arms crossing over her broad chest. "Sometimes I forget to wear my gloves, so it can be pretty embarrassing when I pick something up or touch something and all of a sudden I'm bitch-slapped with a torrent of Force visions about all the blood and death and shit that the thing was connected to. Usually I'm er...I'm better at planting my feet and pushing through it but...." a distant look enters her sulfur-yellow eyes, and she trails off for a long moment as if Saarai were somewhere else entirely. If you're observant, you'll notice a shudder of discomfort work its way through the Pureblood's normally-sturdy frame. "But Nathema...that was a whole different beast. I didn't think- Gods, I never wanted to cry like that in front of Lana or Koth but it all hit me at once and I just couldn't help it." It might be best not to press her for more details, whatever she saw in those visions, it clearly was upsetting for Saarai.

Ni'kasi, however, remains quiet at first. Her eyes scrutinise you closely, as if she's trying to decide whether she can get away with giving away information that might make her 'vulnerable'. A soft breath huffs from her nostrils, and she shakes her shoulders out before admitting, her face blank and unreadable of any sort of humiliation or sheepishness that might give away how she really feels about the story she's telling. "....I suppose, the first time I tried to use it. The first time I fought Thanaton. That's what I get for trusting Zash at her word, it never happened again, and it never will. I got cocky, and figured I could handle far more power than I was prepared to." more quietly, she mutters. "Mother was right, as usual. Should've listened to her." her impassive mask of an expression does crack, then, as she flashes a sharp-toothed grin. "Fucker's deader than the ghosts in my head, now so...tell someone about Darth Occulus' greatest fuck up, or don't. Nobody's going to believe you if you do."

15. Would you ever choose to trade your ability for another?

Again, Saarai goes quiet. For a moment you wonder if she's heard your question at all, but when she speaks up it's clear she had, it was just something she genuinely had to put a lot of thought into for a moment. "....You know what? I don't think so." she shrugs, letting out a mirthful laugh and seeming to shake off the melancholy that had taken hold of her moments before. "Listen, as much as not being able to touch shit without gloves on can suck sometimes it's...it's something that's always been there, y'know? It's a part of me, just like the Force is. I think I'd feel like I wasn't whole if I woke up tomorrow and the psychometry was gone."

Ni'kasi doesn't even hesitate before she shakes her head. "No. Not for anything in the galaxy. It was a difficult ability to master, but it...gave me a connection to my family, my mother in particular, that I'm not sure I would've had without it." she smirks, thinking of Thanaton, though her lips settle into a smile that's far more fond as she carries on talking. "I could've found a way to kill that bastard without it, but...having mother there to talk to, even now, is nice. Makes me miss her a lot less than I did before I learned to Force-walk."

27. If you could give your abilities to one person for a day, who would it be?

Saarai's answer this time is far more immediate, and her voice raises perhaps a little more than she means it to in her vigor to convey her point. "NO ONE!" seeming to realize that such a loud outburst might have startled you, she coughs, spurs trembling again, and when she speaks again her tone returns to its normal register. "Look, I'm not even sure if this is something that you can just learn or...or give to someone else. I was born with it, as far as I know. But even if it was possible, trust me, I wouldn't want anyone else rushing into this. It seems cool on paper, and as much as I'm used to it now and wouldn't get "rid" of it, seriously...it gets old real fast. When it's helpful, it's helpful but when it sucks? It really sucks. The constant fear that some weapon or object you pick up is gonna be a metaphorical brick to the face, the nightmares in your sleep...You don't want this."

Lady Occulus folds her arms behind her back, raises her chin and stares down at you, hard. "Why?" she asks at length, trying to parse out why you're prying into that particular question. "Who wants to know?"

(Author intervention (for the actual answer since Kas isn't gonna give it 🤣) : She might entertain teaching an apprentice she trusts, buuuuuttt she'd have to be certain they wouldn't turn on her and use it against her. I mean, that's basically what she did to Zash and Thanaton and she's not stupid enough to open herself up to that same achilles' heel 😉)

30. Name one skill you haven’t yet perfected that you want to master.

Saarai smiles again, a big, toothy grin this time. Unlike her twin, she's not the least bit shy about admitting her shortcomings and even laughs as she does so. "I wouldn't mind learning how to be better with Force lightning. It's not something I was ever good at, I can do a little but...Kas and Lana are way better at it than I am." she gestures at her posture, all bulk and hard muscle. "Doesn't lend itself so well to the artistry and the fine hand movements, does it? Nah, I'm more like...the battering ram that kicks the door in while they do the finicky lightning work. Still, it might be handy to be better at it, bet it comes in handy for short-circuiting those droids, or consoles and stuff."

Ni'kasi sniffs, seeming almost offended that you're still trying to poke into her weak points. When Rai gets more animated discussing hers, however, she seems to consider an answer of her own that isn't too damning to her reputation. A soft chuckle escapes the Pureblood, her eyes shining with an undeniable fondness and admiration for her sister, if you're looking closely enough to notice that is. "...I'm not good with people. Not like Rai is. Bossing people around and telling them what to do? That I can do. But making friends, making people like me? She makes it look so fucking easy and sometimes I wish I could be more like her..."

#Q&A with the fam #extraordinary muse asks #swtor oc: saarai ahaszaai #swtor oc: ni'kasi ahaszaai #the ahaszaai twins #long post #this one was a *LOT* of fun; thanks pauletta!!#i kinda turned this into a defacto interview format but it felt right?#it was fun i enjoyed this a lot /pos :D #lana and koth. your girlfriend would like a word with you /jk #thank you for the ask!#a-master-procrastinator

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allthewriteplaces · 4 months

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Magnolia In May: Chapter Fourteen

Author's Note: Finally on time again for once. Sorry I haven't been posting much lately. I've been going through a lot with the loss of my dog and it's been hard getting back into the swing of things, but I promise you I will try my best to continue this story for you all. Thanks for sticking around.

Chapter Summary: Life has been going smoothly so far at Lizzie's place, but one phone call is about to change everything.

Chapter Warning(s): None, really.

Word Count: 3727

Chapter Fourteen

“I don’t know, I think I’m going to win again.”

That night, Lizzie, Charlie, Ruby and I sat in the living room playing a board game. The nice weather didn’t stay for long, as predicted, and an army of heavy clouds charged toward us, bringing with it rumbles of thunder that made the house tremble in fear. Ruby wasn’t fond of thunderstorms, so she had made her way downstairs as Lizzie and I were sitting in the living room drinking tea and when she asked if she could stay up with us, we couldn’t say no. Eventually, Charlie sensed what was going on and once he was up, Lizzie figured there was one thing to do, and that was to wait for the storm to pass, playing games and making shadow puppets on the walls.

They’d taken a nap just before dinner, so they weren’t exactly tired, unlike the two of us. Lizzie had been writing in her spare time, and that took a lot of mental energy and concentration, much like the meeting they’d had earlier.

“I swear, we were talking about having or not having balloons, they were inches away from tearing each other to pieces,” Lizzie had said earlier that afternoon with a soft chuckle. It was after the rest of the family left and we were tidying things up, putting things back in order. “Luckily they didn’t, because Polly talked some sense into them — I swear, she has more of that then most of the people in that room, and Aberama was ready to step in and separate the two of them if things got ugly.”

“Arguing over balloons?” I responded, not sure why something as insignificant as that would cause such an uproar. “You’d think they were behaving like children instead of grown adults.”

“Exactly. Polly told them that the children, who are much younger, were behaving better than they were and Ada and I couldn’t help smiling.”

I could see her massaging her temple with her fingers now and then and going back to playing the game, pretending that the headache was nothing at all. Sometimes I would ask her if she wanted me to get her a cold compress. That usually worked for me when I had a headache.

“No fair!” said Charlie.

“How do you keep winning, Mummy?” asked Ruby, equally surprised.

“I guess it’s just my lucky night,” she answered, looking at the three of us with a satisfied grin on her face.

Just then, the telephone rang. At once, both of the kids ran over to it. Both of their parents had instructed them not to answer the door to anyone unless it was either of them or her aunts and uncles, but with the phone, they were told to wait until an adult could pick up the phone. Lizzie stood up and trotted over. The train of her nightgown floated behind her. She picked it up and while holding it to her ear, she uttered an uncertain ‘Hello?’

I looked at the clock. It was a little past nine. Normally, on school nights, Thomas called a little earlier so that they could go to sleep, but tonight was Friday and Lizzie always let them stay up on Friday nights. This was the time he normally called, but instead of the relieved smile I would usually see once she heard his voice on the other end. Instead, there was a very long and intense silence.

“Mummy?” Ruby whispered, but her mother calmly shushed her.

“Hold on a moment,” she said into the phone and placed it upside down on the coffee table. “Charlie, you and Ruby stay downstairs with Jessie. Don’t pick up the phone, and don’t come up the stairs, do you hear me?”

Charlie nodded and then sat down on the couch. Ruby did the same.

“Mummy?” she asked, looking between the two of us.

“Sweetheart, I promise I will tell you everything, but you have to promise me you’ll do as you’re told.”

“I promise,” she said, her bottom lip trembled and she squeezed her eyes shut and her mother kissed the top of her head. As I saw her hurriedly kiss the top of her head, and rush up the stairs and to the telephone in her own office, all of a sudden, I felt the ground crumble beneath me. I felt too weak to stand, so I sat down on the couch between the kids, trying to remain strong in order to make them feel less scared. I didn’t touch the phone, either, even though I was this close to doing so.

“Is everything okay?” asked Charlie. He could tell something was wrong the second his mother left the room. I looked down, not wanting to say anything until we knew for certain what was going on, but at the same time, he looked so worried.

“I’m not sure, Charlie,” I answered and wrapped my arm around his shoulder as he laid his head on my chest. Ruby sniffled and I brought her close to me, too. “But whatever it is, we have to be strong, alright? For your mum, for me, and for each other.”

So we sat there for a few minutes, holding onto one another, until Lizzie came down and silently sat down on the other side of Charlie. They both glanced up at her and she looked back at them with an expression I had never seen her wear before.

“Charlie, Ruby,” she said slowly and she took a deep breath. “I just got off the phone with the doctor and he shared with me some news.”

Neither of them said a word, but I could see the gears turning in their minds. I could see them putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Charlie was the one to eventually cut through the silence, whispering one word under his breath.

“Dad.”

“Yes.” Lizzie’s voice trembled. She looked down at her hands resting on her lap, then she noticed Charlie’s eyes becoming misty as his gaze focused on something far, far away from the four walls of his bedroom. I grew more concerned when I noticed how dreadfully pale his face became. She brought him close to her and kissed the top of his head and held onto him for a long time, rocking him back and forth while glancing over his shoulder at Ruby and I.

“Did the doctor say what happened?” I attempted to keep my own voice steady.

She nodded subtly, but she didn’t answer the question right away. I figured that if she was this worried, if it took her a moment to gather her thoughts and feelings and find a way to answer without going into too much detail, if even the children could pick up on her anxiety, then it must be serious. All of my worst fears immediately came to light, and all I could think about was What if.

“Well, it was hard for me to get an explanation because even the doctor didn’t even know what happened, but my guess is that he had a run in with some of his enemies, and they weren’t too thrilled to see him, and knowing Tommy, he tried to fight them off. He did tell me that he’s badly hurt and that he will have to stay in the hospital for a week.”

“A week?” Charlie echoed, lifting his head up and Lizzie nodded, smoothing out his hair. “What if he can’t make it in time for his birthday?”

“Then we will just have to wait until he comes home, eh?” she answered. She reached over and brushed a finger along Ruby’s cheek. “We’ll have a big birthday party for him, the whole family will be there, and it will be so much fun.”

Usually, this would reassure them, but I could sense that even though they smiled and that they changed the subject to something else while they were helping to put away the pieces of the game, moments after, as I tucked them in and was just about to blow out the candle, Ruby turned over in bed and in the warm light, I could see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Jessie?” she said in a soft voice, almost too soft for me to hear her.

“What is it, my love?”

“Is Daddy going to die?” Her breath caught in her throat and I paused. Charlie must have been thinking the exact same thing, because now he was sitting up and looking as though he were about to cry, too. I would be lying if I said that the thought hadn’t crossed mine and Lizzie’s mind as well, but neither of us wanted to worry them even more than they already were.

Exhaling through my nose, trying to keep my own emotions and worries at bay, I sat at the end of her bed and rubbed her back soothingly while addressing them. These kids were as smart as their parents, they could pick up the subtlest hint of worry, as it was made obvious downstairs when they saw their mum on the phone, so I knew that there was no point in sugarcoating things or trying to make it seem like everything was going to be okay, when I wasn’t sure.

“We don’t know, sweetheart, but I do know for a fact your daddy is the strongest, and bravest man in the whole world, and that the doctors are taking really good care of your dad. He will know what to do, and if there’s anything we need to worry about, he will call us on the telephone and let us know.”

“Can we go and see him?” asked Charlie, pulling the sheets back.

“It’s much too late to go now. Besides, he’s probably sleeping, but your mum said that if you promise to go to sleep, too, then maybe we can go and see him tomorrow.”

With a relieved smile, he burrowed back under the covers and laid his head against his pillow, feeling all the worry slip away, at least for the time being. I adjusted his covers and kissed the top of his head before doing the same with Ruby. She was just starting to relax enough that her eyes were getting droopy. I blew out the candle softly and when I eventually felt like it was a good time to leave the room, I listened for any sounds of thunder, but all that seemed to remain was the sound of the rain tapping rhythmically on the roof and window. It was almost reassuring, as if it was trying to tell me that things were actually going to be alright.

******

Lessons for the next morning were cancelled, I telephoned Mister Collins a few hours before he would normally be scheduled to arrive and explained the situation to him. Fortunately, he lived less than an hour away from Arrow House and it wouldn’t take him that much longer to get to Lizzie’s estate, but still, it would have been rude to not inform him of said change in schedule in advance. While we were speaking, he did his best to reassure me that Mister Shelby — whilst speaking of our employer as well as anyone within the family, we always referred to them by the title in which they preferred — would be as right as rain in no time, but told me to wish him a speedy recovery on his behalf anyhow. He also wanted me to wish the children, who he also called Mister and Miss Shelby all the best.

As I’ve said before, we all loved Mister Collins. He was a kindly, considerate and patient man. He was never strict with them, and if they needed extra help in a subject, he never lost patience with them and made sure they understood it well enough before moving onto something else. They also both had their strengths. Charlie had become an expert in fractions, and could already multiply by twos, tens and fives, and Ruby was quite clever when it came to spelling.

But be as it may, the summer holidays were just around the corner and they were excited that there would be no more lessons until the autumn. However, they insisted that Miss Milligan still come every week to help them with their music. The children had progressed really well. Charlie had gotten the hang of a few songs, though we always needed to make sure that his strings were properly tuned and that the bow had enough rosin on it, not too much, not too little. Ruby was now able to use two hands to play the piano, and had learned a song that her dad loved. She wasn’t able to read sheet music like most children, she only needed to hear the song and then play the right notes.

Lizzie made several calls to the rest of the family to explain what had happened and then was on the telephone with the doctor, letting him know when we would be coming in to see Thomas. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, nor did it feel right for me to eavesdrop, but I hoped and prayed that his condition had improved.

Eventually, she came back and sat down at the head of the table. Her eyes were gritty, like she didn’t get any sleep at all. I couldn’t imagine that I looked much better or that I blamed her. I spent a majority of the night and most of the early morning tossing and turning, unable to stop myself from imagining the worst case scenario: the whole family gathered in the hospital, some kneeling by the bed weeping and sobbing, the children begging their father to come back to them, and him just laying there motionless and lifeless with his eyes closed and more than once this fear made me too scared to even close my eyes.

For a while, the only sound that could be heard was the sound of cutlery scraping against the plates, until I spoke.

“What did the others say when you told them?” I asked.

“Understandably, they were all worried. Some of them wondered why they weren’t called before I was, but I said that Tommy had me listed as his emergency contact, which meant of course they would call me first if anything was wrong.”

“They’ll all go in and see him?”

“That’s what they said. I said we’re going in at noon and we’ll stay for a bit, then Ada and Ben will be going in at two, Arthur and Linda at five, and Polly said she’ll see him later on in the evening.”

“That way he’s not too overwhelmed?”

“Exactly, and then I’ll give the doctors their numbers in case something goes wrong.” Then she turned to the kids and lowered her voice a bit. “So when we go and see Daddy, we need to use our inside voices, okay?”

“Because he’ll be tired?” asked Charlie and she nodded.

“Yes, when you’re hurt like that you feel tired and sick.”

“Can we give him our drawings?” He proudly held up a sketch that he drew on paper, describing to us what was on it, like an artist of a museum explaining his piece as it was unveiled. “See? That’s dad, that’s you, that’s Ruby and that’s Jessie. I was going to give it to him for his birthday, but I think it might help him feel better.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Charlie,” I said, smiling warmly at him. “Your dad is going to love it.”

“Wait! I need to finish the drawing I made!” said Ruby.

“Finish your breakfast first, darling, then you can go, alright? Besides, we’re not in any hurry to leave.” She placed a hand on her back and rubbed it soothingly, something I knew to calm her down. Reluctantly, Ruby nodded and then sat back down in her chair, picking up her fork and knife. She still had some food left on her plate, so she ate what she could. I couldn’t imagine any of us had much of an appetite, but I didn’t want them to be too hungry later on as we had a considerably long drive ahead of us. When she did eventually finish, she looked to her mother for permission to leave the breakfast table. By the looks of it, she’d finished eating so her mother gave her the okay to leave and sliding out of her chair, she hurried up the stairs. Charlie went after her and Lizzie and I started cleaning up.

Thomas had hired a cook and a maid for her when the divorce was finalised and she’d moved out of Arrow House, but I’d only ever seen them come in yesterday when we were having all of the family over. Most of the time, she preferred to do things her own way. She said that it helped her feel more independent and more in control of her own situation, as much as she appreciated the extra help now and again.

I put on some gloves and then filled the sink up with hot water and soap, watching the plate become cleaner and shinier as I scrubbed all the accumulated crud off with a sponge.

“Are you sure you don’t mind cleaning those?” she asked, “I know that it’s not a pleasant job, especially when food sticks to the plate and gets all soggy.”

“You’re right about that. I’ll be honest, I never liked doing the dishes as a kid, when it was my turn to do them, I used to come up with all sorts of excuses to avoid it, because like you said, all the soggy food can be unpleasant, but being a grown-up comes with all sorts of challenges and sometimes you can’t be afraid of getting your hands dirty.”

Joking around was the only thing we can think of to get our minds off of everything, but the relief only lasted a short while. Her smile flickered away and the crinkles in her forehead began to show themselves.

“I barely slept all night,” she said, wiping a hand *across her forehead and looking down at the water in the sink. It was becoming less and less clear and more sudsy. “Actually, I haven’t slept since the day he left. All I am able to do is lay there, tossing and turning and flipping my pillow over and over again and I keep thinking, ‘What if he dies tonight and I’m not with him? What am I going to tell the kids who love their father more than anything in the world? How am I going to tell his aunt and siblings?’ Just that dread is enough to…..”

I remained silent for a moment, allowing her to vent her feelings to me without interruption.

“Of course that’s always been my greatest fear. Even before we started seeing each other, I always wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew, if he was messing with the wrong people.” She leaned back against the counter and rubbed a hand across her face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be pinning this all on you. You’re not a doctor. It’s not your job to fix me.”

“Don’t apologise for letting yourself feel things, I understand you’re worried. I am, too.” I turned around, wanting to put one of my hands on her shoulder as a sign of comfort, but it would probably not be a good idea with my soapy hands. “But the doctor is doing everything that he possibly can to help him feel better, and seeing the three of you will definitely cheer him up.”

“Four,” she corrected. “You’re part of this family now, too, you know.”

Just as I was about to reply, the kids came thundering back down the stairs.

“Mummy! Do you wanna see my drawing?” Ruby asked, hiding the paper behind her back. She was waiting for us to answer her.

“Of course I would, lovey,” she answered and then gasped when Ruby revealed her art piece, holding it up the same way Charlie held his drawing up earlier.

“It’s Daddy and I having a tea party, like he did when I was little.”

“I’m sure he’s going to love it!” I told her.

“Do you want me to carry it out to the car?” asked Lizzie and Ruby nodded, handing the picture to Lizzie. Charlie did the same. “And you wrote your names on them so he knows who drew what drawing. Well done!”

Lizzie tucked both pictures under her arm while being careful not to crinkle them. Charlie followed her into the hallway and turned the doorknob. I walked behind them and held his hand as the four of us walked down the steps.

“Can we take the caravan, Mummy?” Ruby inquired.

“Hmm…” I looked up at the sky. It had turned a depressing shade of grey, and I could have sworn I felt a raindrop landing on the tip of my nose. “It looks like it might rain and the ground is a bit too muddy from the rain the other day. The wheels might get stuck.”

“Maybe when it’s nicer outside we can take it out again,” Lizzie added. She opened the car door and the kids climbed up into the back row.

“Like the time we went on a picnic with Daddy and Jessie,” said Ruby, getting situated in her seat and then buckling her seatbelt.

“A picnic? And you didn’t invite me?” Lizzie exclaimed, pretending to be hurt and turning around in the driver’s seat to face them, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Mum, are you really crying?” said Charlie, genuinely concerned, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure whether or not she was actually offended by not being invited to the picnic.

“No, I’m not crying,” she assured him, chuckling softly. “I’m sure you had a really good time with your dad and Jessie.”

“We did. Jessie was drawing kitty cats and then Daddy pretended to be a cat,” said Ruby, giggling at the memory. “Do you remember that, Jessie?”

“How could I possibly forget?” I replied, smiling at her and then turning to look out the window as the car pulled out of the driveway and onto the road and the rest of their conversation floated around me.

To be continued!

Taglist: @runnning-outof-time @zablife @sherbitdibdab @izabesworld @cillmequick

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #fanfic #fanfiction

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v0idspeak · 1 year

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RQ stream notes

So today Rusty Quill streamed! Woo! Alex J. Newall did a creative jam to create an audio drama in... 2 hours? I think? Anyway! I took notes!

The end result was an elevator pitch, synopsis for 6 episodes, and a somewhat fully-produced pilot episode.

It features three main characters (two protagonists and an antagonist) and two entire dogs, in a Noir Western setting.

Enjoy the notes! (Warning: they are long.)

Alex' ground rules -No swearing/anything that'll get him kicked off Twitch -Only original stories -No TMP spoilers or he gets bapped -6-part series with 10min of fully produced audio drama

-Genre - usually do a genre blend (between two different genres) (ex.: romoantic-horror) to allow for more elaborate concepts Genre choice: Noir | Western -Did some brainstorming for keywords in Aesthetics -Quickly going through Wikipedia to research the genres and find points to fill the project guide. Determine how long we have VS what kinds of stories we have time to do -Get a couple characters (3 to be exact) -Elevator pitch -Character bio detail brainstorming -Quick summary of each episode, per season -Cannibalism gave title idea: Eat the Rich (lmao actual cannibal Shia LaBoeuf) -Text between brackets is to the creators' benefit rather than in the actual episode -Pilot needs a Final Complication/hook/cliffhanger in order to get the listener's attention -Alex abuses of speech-to-text (it fights back sometimes) -Writes pilot script -Writes tagline mid-pilot scripting -Once script is over, highlighted parts that are being voice-acted -Started actually voice acting the scene -Silent sound markers (snap fingers - wait a few seconds - snap fingers again. I think this is for denoising purposes) -Occasionally makes voiceacting notes/redoes lines -Moving screams in separate layers. A lot of things he's doing can be done automatically but he's doing it in Audacity manually so we see what's going on. He'll also be taking shortcuts and such that he shouldn't -Silence marker - effect - noise reduction (after getting sound profile for the silence) -(reduce memory load by doing Stereo To Mono while working; do NOT do this for a real podcast ahaha) -Normalize audio -Audacity is a destructive audio program which makes things Difficult (I think Reaper isn't which is neat) -Use fades to hide a cut -One track per scene? -Use scene cuts where a lot is left unsaid -Once dialogue is cut, finds SFX (he has soundbanks - soundbanks good) -Oh No Soundscaping (TM) -And then Music (ft. Upbeat Sax- I mean what?) -Exporting stuff is very frustrating (ft. Alex flappy hands, but angy) -Does artwork during exporting (ft. Alex goat noises) (graphic design is his passion) (he's using Paint) -EQ work! -Exporting -Alex is very good at doing the post-episode monologue

Brainstorm Template: -Key Info *Title (Eat the rich) *Logline (It's dog eat dog in the belly of the new world beast) *Elevator pitch (Grim the gritty outsider with nothing to lose stumbles upon the railway being built none other than Princeton with dangerous labour practices and there's a secret conspiracy that can only be unearther with the help of Elisa Thorne. Mining equipment, illegal land grab at the outskirts of OldNew Manchester *Genre (Western | Noir) *Series format (6x10 episodes)

-Aesthetics *Tone (introspective | outside the law | Death of the wilderness | Gritty | Vigilante | Brooding | Corruption) *FX (Wind, tumbleweed, Narrator/VO, guns, whip snap, gravel, vultures, door hinges, whistling, campfire, horses, wood, saxophone, sound of smoke, train heist) *Music (Slow n low, sax, jazz, saloon piano, blues/harmonica, banjo, cello) *Visuals (dust bowl, urban, smokey, wilderness, night, American, chiaroscuro, trenchcoats, hats)

Project guide -World guide *Noir (No happy endings promised) *Sandbox (calamity james retelling,

-Characters CHARACTER | ROLE | AGE | PRONOUNS performance guide Bio

Elisa Thorne | LAW LADY | 37 | She/her No nonsense brusqye, played by April Bio: Has wife, has cool dog, loves flowers, run away from money,

Grim | GRITTY OUTSIDER | 55 | They/them Mr badger from Wind in the Willows meets An no country for old men Bio: Never sleeps, sharpshooter, Also Has A Bigger Dog, caffeine addiction

Elon Princeton | CAPITALIST | AGE | HE/HIM Just everything that's wrong with the world right now condensed into a person Bio: Menacing knitting, Illegally obtained Emerald mine, father of Elisa's wife, allergic to dogs

Season synposes

S1 - 1 (pilot) (Grim rolls into town as Elon is announcing that they can finally finish the final phase of the railway connecting city with a remote outpost, Eliza attempts arrest due to dog attacking Elon, Grim driven out of town as he is too dangerous to be captured, Grim sneaks back into city because they cannot leave without their coffee. Discover Elon's conspiracy - they are hgiding bodies beneath railway [Elon is a cannibal] [Elon is an actual accountable cannibal accountant lmao] [Picked up in the Emerald Mine Disaster, continued bc he likes it & hates the poor]. Grim gets a pardon if they help take Elon down. Eliza discovers her wife has disappeared) 2 - (Eliza investigates missing wife with poor results, Grim gets involved despite themself and starts using off the book methods to squeeze info from contacts including some ranches from outside of town & implied secrets about Elon, Grim gets results - gunfight - Elisa forced to rescue Grim - forced to get along - respect each other) 3 - (staged train robbery to cover up final shipment of bodies, Grim injured) 4 - reversal (Eliza's wife revealed to have been covering for Elon, Elon takes control of town and Eliza is framed for robbery. Eliza forced out of town.) 5 - knot (Elon covers up recent scandal (illicit affair with newly arrived rancher) w disappearance of [???] Discover bodies) 6 - conclusion/finale (Discover Elon cannibal, Elon eaten by dogs, Eliza's wife Irene chooses Dad over Eliza bc NOIR, Grim leaves, there is no justice)

Pilot script *Scene 1 Grim rolls into town as Elon is announcing that they can finally finish the final phase of the railway connecting city with a remote outpost, -Grim is unimpressed and picks a fight -Eliza attempts to descalate situation despite hating Elon and fails bc Grim is unhelpful & dog is worrying Elon -Grim hears automobile backfiring, assumes they are under fire, gunfighting ensues (gunfighting shoes???) -Grim flees town (Grim driven out of town as he is too dangerous to be captured)

*Scene 2 Grim sneaks back into city because they cannot leave without their coffee. -Via railway into city -Witnesses bodies being laid amongst the sleepers (Discover Elon's conspiracy - they are hgiding bodies beneath railway)

*Scene 3 -Despite Grim's instincts, they decide to warn sheriff Eliza about bodies (Twist because Noir -Alex) -Eliza arrests Grimm (assuming they are lying) until hearing name Elon -Dogs like each other :D -Irene enters with late night surprise dinner for Eliza - immediately hides suspicions and lies to wife about Grim. Grim is shocked but plays along. (This thing writes ITSELF!! -Alex)

[Elon is a cannibal] [Elon is an actual accountable cannibal accountant lmao] [Picked up in the Emerald Mine Disaster, continued bc he likes it & hates the poor].

*Scene 4 (written after scene 5 - lull in action -Grim sitting on Eliza's porch and mulling things over - plays harmonica

Scene 5 -Eliza discovers wife has disappeared and demands Grim's help bc they are an oustsider & closest thing to friend that Eliza has in this messed up city Grim gets a pardon if they help take Elon down. Eliza discovers her wife has disappeared

[HERE, Alex takes more detailed notes and doesn't really pause so I didn't note the dialogue and such. Also Alex's accent is glorious.] [He talked about digging a pit and now everyone in chat is spamming DIG] [The speech to text keeps writing Gunfight Ensues as Gunfighting Shoes.] ["I like Grim. Grim's a fun character." Same, Alex, same.] [Shoutout to Alex doing beatboxing with a weird dog noise while trimming sounds] [plays thunder sound "Ohohoho! I don't care if it's Gothic! My wife has dissapeared KPHHHHHW"] [Alex' frustrated sounds are something to behold. Gremlin noises fr.] [Chat has started singing Hellfire by the Mechanisms] ["I warn everyone, this isn't going to be a thing that is pleasant to listen to"] ["NARRATION!"] [File is huge. There is now a vote in chat, called Chonk? with three options, Chonk, Chonk, and Chonk. The first Chonk won!] [Notetaker's note: I still miss Winston Princeton]

TMP news: "Jonny has pitched to me the most horrific thing ever" [about s3 of TMP?] etc etc (can't share it. WHAT A TEASE >:| /lh)

#rq stream #Rusty Quill stream #Rusty Quill #Notes #Unofficial Note-Taker Void returns

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sweetillusicn · 2 years

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[ tye sheridan, cis man, he/him. ] ✧･ﾟ is that [ rick ollman ] who just stumbled into town? rumour has it that they’re the [ twenty-five ] year old child of [ fiona phillips and ryan ollman ] from [ so weird ]. i’ve also heard that they’re [ creative ] but [ self-sacrificing ] and have [ 1 younger ] sibling. i could almost swear i heard [ in the darkness - mackenzie phillips ] playing when they appeared. [ sho, 25, est, she/her. ]

Although she was trying to live a normal life, Fiona never forgot Ryan. They kept in touch, and eventually started dating. When they were in their 20s, Ryan proposed. A while after getting married, Fiona gave birth to a son. They named him after her father, Rick.

Rick was a very curious child growing up. He loved coming to the lab with his dad, as well as going to his dad’s lectures.

He also took a great interest in music, and considering his mother had musical talent as well as his grandparents, it was only a matter of time before he got into music. He likes to sing and play guitar and piano in his free time.

As a child he had an imaginary friend who was a Scottish will o’ the wisp who had dreams of becoming president. Unbeknownst to him, his imaginary friend happened to be very real, and after escaping the disk he was trapped on, Bricriu went to check in on Fiona and make sure she was keeping her promise to him.

As Rick grew up, he took an interest in creative writing, as well as his mom’s interest in blogging. He began to look back at his mom’s blog posts, as well as his dad’s research and decided to start writing science fiction and fantasy short stories based on both. They’d often get published in his school’s literary magazine.

One night in his senior year of high school, when researching for a new story, he accidentally found his mother’s spell book in the attic. While reading it, he unintentionally opened a door to the spirit world. Scared of what had happened, he kept it a secret from his parents.

A few days later when Fiona and Ryan were both out one night and his sibling was over at a friend’s, Rick found out that his imaginary friend was anything but imaginary. The will o’ the wisp Bricriu came to the house and told him about the forces in the spirit realm. Despite Fiona severing herself from the spirit world, they were angered once more when they learned that her son had opened a doorway to their world.

It was then that Bricriu gave Rick a choice: he could chance that those in the spirit world might go after him and his family, or Bricriu could protect him and his family. All he asked for in return was to possess Rick’s body. Knowing he couldn’t protect himself and his family against angry spirits, Rick agreed to the deal.

Bricriu paused time to look over Rick’s memories, mannerisms, and everything in between and snapped himself back once he was done. If they don’t know Bricriu’s tell signs, no one would be able to tell something was actually off about Rick.

However, Bricriu’s possession is more like a symbiosis: most of the time, Rick has full control of his body. However, Bricriu will pop up if he feels like it. Mostly he pops up when he sees that Rick needs it or if something (or someone) specific catches his eye.

Considering Fiona has forgotten Bricriu’s one true name, she can’t banish him. And since Bricriu has never told Rick his name, unless someone wants to try and guess it, he won’t be getting banished anytime soon.

Rick will often talk to Bricriu and ask for his advice on the supernatural if necessary. The two usually communicate through a small journal Rick always carries around. But if no one is in the immediate vicinity, then Rick will hold a conversation with him out loud.

Rick can get very restless if he has to sit still for a long time. The only time manages to sit still is when writing or playing guitar or piano, and still you’ll see him tapping his foot or fidgeting with something.

Rick will do anything for his family and friends. He loves his parents and his sibling dearly, and will always work to keep his friendships. If you’re someone he cares about and you need him he’ll absolutely go to bat for you.

Rick identifies as bisexual. Bricriu on the other hand, won’t openly discuss his relationships or sexuality. But there was one special person back in Scotland he found himself falling for…despite being a glowing ball of light.

Although Rick comes from a famous family, he won’t openly say it. If you guess or joke that he’s related to Molly Phillips, he won’t deny it. But he won’t go around telling people because he doesn’t want people befriending him only because of who his grandmother is.

Although Rick only has slight magical abilities, Bricriu has knowledge of Celtic magic and runes, can freeze time, and can change his appearance.

Before coming to town, Rick was working on writing his first full-length novel.

#{intros}#{intros || Rick}

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ace-of-zaun · 2 years

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Roger That (One-shot NSFW)

Silco x f!reader - NSFW

CW: dirty talk, groping, lingerie, established relationship, swears, phonetic alphabet/military talk?, fluff, the worst jokes I’ve ever written (I mean it, they’re shameful), MDNI please

2.6k words

Summary: You decide to give the Eye of Zaun a cheeky little gift in an attempt to bring you closer together. Of course, your idea backfires when Silco takes it upon himself to use that gift to torment you at the most inappropriate times…

A/N: I was already in the middle of writing this one up when parm posted her John Seed drabble (read it, it’s very good, and also NSFW). I promise I didn’t mean to have a similar premise, I’m just an idiot with bad timing! -elsie x

It only dawned on you that your little idea may have been a mistake when the sound of Silco’s dangerously low voice vibrates through your ear canal, as if he was standing directly behind you.

“What are you wearing, my dove?”

In hindsight, giving the Eye of Zaun the ability to speak to you whenever he wanted, from anywhere within The Last Drop, could have only ended in this kind of exquisite disaster.

You’d been busy overseeing the training of a new recruit in the bar’s basement when your partner’s voice rang through the little earpiece that connected you to him, through the new set of walkie talkies you’d purchased as a gift.

The idea had been born from your ever-growing frustration that you barely saw your partner-in-crime anymore. You’d originally hoped that taking the step of moving in with Silco would have solved the problem, but it had most likely exacerbated it.

As his in-house manager, you were in charge of supervising the staff in their day-to-day business. It had quickly become a job you not only enjoyed, but excelled in, as you found yourself receiving mission reports, sorting out any internal conflicts, and even training the new recruits to meet Silco’s high standard of combat. Although, without a doubt, the most rewarding part was that it eased the weight off your lover’s shoulders, instead of letting him take all the responsibility himself.

But the practicalities of your new role meant that your days were usually spent in the basement of The Last Drop or in the bar, whereas Silco’s would be spent in his office completing endless reams of paperwork, or out doing rounds on the shimmer factories.

Granted, you adored the time you did get to spend with him. Waking up in the morning wrapped in his arms felt like your own personal heaven. Those few moments where you could gently run your fingers through his soft, greying hair, as he traced soothing patterns on your lower back in the peaceful quiet, were more addictive than any dose of shimmer.

But as of late, those moments were few and far between. To make matters worse, the arrival of an issue from one of the chem-barons acting up had resulted in both of your workloads being doubled. All in all, it meant that you were so busy, you barely even saw one another to eat or sleep, let alone talk. So the chance to rectify that dilemma may have been on the forefront of your mind when you came across your gift.

You’d been out buying new weapons for an upcoming raid when you’d seen them. A set of long-range walkie talkies.The arms-dealer had insisted they were perfect for missions that required stealth because they worked at an impressive distance between each handset. But your mind had other plans for the little gadgets, that definitely didn’t involve covert missions in the field.

When you’d first presented him with your gift, he’d been, to put it mildly, fucking baffled.

“What’s this?” Silco had asked, his brow furrowing as he looked down at the equipment you’d placed on his desk.

“Walkie Talkies,” you tell him.

“What for?”

“So we can talkie while we walkie.”

The dead-pan look he’d given you was akin to being smacked in the face with a wet fish. Normally, you’d have cackled with laughter at his wicked sense of comedic timing, but you’d felt much too tired and disheartened to fully appreciate it. You missed him.

You sighed unhappily.

“I hate that this mess with the chem-barons means we hardly get to see each other anymore. So, I thought we could use these to talk to each other when we’re apart, but both in the building. I just thought it might bring us a bit closer together,” you’d admitted quietly.

Silco’s cool demeanour had melted instantly at your heartfelt confession.

“Alright, my lovely. How do they work?”

Your smile is nothing short of tender as you’d shown him which button lets you talk to one another, which changes the frequency, and how he can attach the ear piece so no-one else can hear your voice but him. Then, you’d begun to test just how far apart they actually worked, starting from the other side of his office, and gradually getting further and further away until you’re standing in the basement, listening to him ramble about the absurdity of new technology.

At first, you’d only used the walkie talkies to inform each other of any pressing news, or to tell one another that you were going out. Of course, that quickly progressed to asking him how he was, if he needed anything to eat, or just reminding him to take a break every so often.

Then, you’d started to take the opportunity to interject his day with terrible jokes, in a futile attempt to make the old man laugh.

“Knock knock.”

“What?”

“Knock knock,” you repeat, as you sit at a table in the bar, sorting through your file of reports from the week’s assignments.

His sigh is crackly as it reverberates through the ear piece.

“Come on, Sil, play along,” you beg, in an almost melodic tone.

There’s silence on the other end, which you take as a sign to ask again.

“Knock knock.”

“Who is there?” Silco asks reluctantly, as if it’s shortening his life span by simply uttering the question.

“The Industrial-ist,” you emphasise.

“…Darling.”

“Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in an industrial-twist!”

There’s a pointed silence and you can only imagine the wonderful expression of pure agony that must be adorning his face.

“That was horrific.”

“I know, that’s why you love me,” you tell him smugly.

You’d even tried to get him to learn the phonetic alphabet, but that plan had back-fired when you’d decided to tease him at a time when he was absolutely exhausted, and not really in the mood for your playful torment.

“Hey, Sil?”

“Yes, darling?”

“You’re a Bravo Indigo Tango Charlie Hotel.”

“…I see.”

“Not really, you’re wonderful.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“I mean it, you’re Golf… Oscar… Romeo… uh, Golf? Uh…what’s next? G, O, R, G… Shit, this is much harder to do off the top of my head,” you ramble into the microphone, “Gorgeous! I’m trying to tell you you’re gorgeous!”

“Not as gorgeous as you, my dear.”

And despite his lacklustre response, you knew he wasn’t really mad at you. Hell, if he wasn’t so tired, he’d probably have retorted with a name that was much worse, or, if you were lucky, would have threatened to tie you up.

Of course, regardless of the teasing, you never missed the opportunity to express your overflowing love for him, especially when you knew he was stressed or having a difficult day.

“Sweetheart?” you would call, pressing the button down when you were sure no-one else was listening.

“Yes, my lovely?”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” was his steady, yet ardent reply.

And even though it wasn’t the first time you’d heard him declare those words (and it certainly wouldn’t be the last), it still made your heart flutter, like it had been enchanted with the purest of magic.

Unfortunately for you, the love of your life had quickly worked out that if the walkie talkies could be used to amiably chat to you throughout the day, then they could also be used for more risqué communications. Silco knew that only you could hear his voice with the earpiece in, which only served to make his ministrations more provocative.

One time, you’d been handing out paychecks to the staff when his low, gravelly voice had rung through the ear piece.

“I’m thinking of you.”

“Oh, yeah?” you’d replied, startling some of the staff members in the bar.

“Thinking of all the lovely sounds you’re going to make tonight when I lick every inch of you.”

…The horny, old bastard.

And that particular development was how you’d found yourself standing in the basement, feeling an odd mixture of both horrified and aroused at the sound of Silco’s filthy question in your ear.

“What are you wearing, my dove?”

His low tone of voice revealed exactly where he was going with his line of questioning, and it must have shown on your face, because the recruit who was busy doing sit-ups frowned at your flustered expression.

It was no secret that your walkie talkie was only connected to Silco, so the recruit had every right to look as suspicious as they did at your change in demeanour. You cleared your throat nervously and shifted on your feet, trying to choose the most generic response you could think of.

“Uh…the usual?” you reply tentatively, hoping he’ll understand you were in the presence of an audience.

“Take it off.”

Oh no. Nope. You’re not doing that right now. No chance in hell.

You should have known he’d eventually try something like this, the sadistic little fucker.

“I can’t right now, I’m training a recruit,” you tell him, hoping your dry, professional voice will put him off.

“What is their name?”

“Sorry?”

“What is the recruit’s name?”

“Bree.”

The poor recruit looks petrified at their name being mentioned to the Eye of Zaun, and you give them an apologetic glance. It doesn’t seem to help.

“If you’re not in our bedroom in 5 minutes, I’ll come down there and force Bree to watch while I pull your clothes off one by one with my teeth.”

Despite the many outrageous rumours about the King of the Undercity, the one that was irrevocably and undeniably true, was that he always delivered on a threat.

You scramble to dismiss the recruit, who was beginning to look decidedly ill with how pale their face had become, no doubt concerned they were in some kind of trouble with the kingpin.

After a mad dash up the stairs, through the bar, and up into his office, you’re basically panting by the time you reach the door to your adjoining bedroom. If it wasn’t at the very least from your quick movements, the breathlessness was definitely from excitement at finally getting to spend some quality time with your partner. And by the sound of his demanding voice earlier, you can only assume that Silco is feeling just the same.

Your heart racing as you place your fingers on the door handle, you push the bedroom door open and gingerly step into the room.

He’s not in there.

…What?

You briefly panic that he’d gotten too impatient and that you’d somehow missed him making his way down to the basement.

“Okay, I’m here. Where are you?” you speak, as you press the button down.

“Put it on.”

It’s only after hearing his emphatic command that you spot the silk, almost see-through chemise laid out on the bed. Oh.

Part of you isn’t actually that surprised. Silco was very generous in his gifts to you, and you were more than aware of his penchant for seeing you in expensive (revealing) clothing. Heat flushes through your body thinking of the way you know his eyes will shamelessly roam over you, so you diligently put it on like he asked, expecting him to appear as soon as you’re suitably dressed for him.

“I’m wearing it,” you say, as alluringly as possible into the walkie talkie.

“Come down to the bar.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Absolutely not.

What was he thinking?? There was no way you were going to walk through The Last Drop for all his guards and employees to see you in such a revealing outfit.

“Silco, I’m not walking about the place dressed like this,” you mumble, your cheeks growing red in embarrassment.

“No-one else will see you, darling. I promise. You’re all mine. For my eyes only.”

Well, you couldn’t say no to that.

You make your way through the office, and cautiously peek your head around the door, peering into the corridor. Unable to spot the guard who usually stands at the entrance, you creep your way towards the bar, praying to Janna that nobody will see you. You didn’t think you’d be able to look any of the staff in the eye again if they saw you wearing this.

With nowhere to clip the walkie talkie onto, you carried it in your hand, the earpiece still snugly in your ear as you finally emerged onto the balcony of the bar. It’s completely empty. It had been populated with a few employees and the bar staff when you’d dashed through on your way up to Silco’s office earlier, but now, it was desolate. How had he managed to clear it out so quickly? Maybe it had something to do with him being the most dangerous man in the city. Hmm. Maybe.

The lights had been turned down so low, that you could barely see into the shadows of the bar, and no amount of squinting was helping you to see where your lover was hiding.

Ah. So that’s what he was after. A little game of cat and mouse. And you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t send a pleasant shiver up your spine.

A quick turn of the head revealed that the curtain to your private booth across the mezzanine was closed, which usually meant that it was occupied. Would he really make it that easy? You decide to take your chances and surreptitiously stalk over to the booth, trying to keep your footsteps as light as possible.

“Are we playing hide and seek?” you ask into the microphone coyly, as you approach the curtain of the private booth.

There’s no response, so you assume you must be getting close enough that speaking would give his position away. Slowly, slowly, you reach out to wrap your fingers around the curtain, and yank it back. It’s empty.

“Not quite, my lovely. You’re going to have to try a bit harder than that if you want to find me,” Silco taunts, his tone becoming more and more wicked as he speaks.

You huff out a noise of frustration and make your way down the stairs to the main floor of the bar. It’s even more difficult to navigate the room downstairs and you find yourself struggling to avoid bumping into anything and giving yourself any unwanted bruises. Carefully, you edge your way through the bar, peering into the corners you think he might be hidden in.

Just as you’re about to pass another booth, a pair of strong arms grab you around the waist and yank you backwards onto the cool, leather seats. You can’t help the startled shriek you let out, but it’s quickly cut off when you finally see his captivating eyes, as you’re pulled onto his lap. You’re straddling him now, chest to chest, with your calves lining the outside of his thighs.

“I win,” Silco murmurs, his pupils blown wide as you latch your hands comfortably around his shoulders.

As expected, his mismatched eyes begin to traverse every inch of your body, lingering on the curves of skin that are revealed to him. His sinful hands trace a smooth pattern from your neck, to the small of your back, around your waist, and down the outside of your thighs. The sensations his touch causes to ripple through your body are ethereal.

“Ravishing,” he purrs, as he leans forward to drag his lips along your collarbone, “I must say, I was dubious when you bought these little devices, but I see their value now.”

With his confession now out in the open, Silco roughly pulls the earpiece from your ear at the same time as he pinches your backside, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Now, take it off so I can devour you.”

You blindly throw the walkie talkie across the cushioned seat and lean forward, so your lips touch the shell of his ear, as you whisper seductively.

“Roger That, sir.”

A/N: I promise I’ll write something more serious soon, I’m just having too much fun putting silco in the most ridiculous situations I can think of lmao

#silco #silco x reader #silco x f!reader #silco x you #silco fic #silco arcane

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mickey-henry · 3 years

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky’s been flirting with you, but hasn’t taken it further than that. frustrated, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: occasional swearing (but not much) and frustrating flirting (I’d be melting if it was happening to me). besides that, this fic is pure fluffy fun.

author’s note: hello there! this is my second fic; I’m very excited to post it! I found the header image here, and if you want to listen to the song I reference in this fic, you can listen here. bold text indicates singing, while italicized text refers to inner thoughts. likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖

Bucky Barnes is an acquaintance at best. The two of you rarely work together, and with conflicting schedules, you see little of each other around the compound. On a random Friday in April, however, something changes in you. The moment is nothing out of the ordinary. You’re sitting on the couch in the main living space, re-reading one of your favorite books. Bucky has just returned from a mission; you glance up to see his exhausted expression. He catches your eye, winking with a smile, before walking to his room. Your heart flutters and your head freezes at the response. “Oh, no,” you think to yourself. “Maybe that was a one-time thing? I don’t actually like him, right?” Wrong.

Ever since that night, the mere presence of Bucky Barnes drives you crazy: his stunning blue eyes that squint ever so slightly when he smiles, his adorable nose that crinkles when he laughs, his pillowy lips that you lose yourself in, his fluffy hair you can’t help but imagine running your fingers through, his scruff speckled jawline that you wish would brush along your hands, cheeks, anywhere really. He occupies your dreams; you can’t escape this man even if you try. Today, he drives you crazier than usual. He stands in the compound's kitchen in a tight black t-shirt, one that leaves nothing to the imagination. This is the first time you’ve seen him in short sleeves, in anything other than tactical gear. You can’t help but stare as he prepares his lunch. The shirt hugs his frame tight, accentuating his biceps that had no right to be that big. “Gosh, he must spend hours in the gym to look like that.” You then notice the vein in his right arm protruding from his skin, tracing it with your eyes. You didn’t think he could become any more beautiful, but here he is before you, incredible as ever.

You’re pulled from your reverie when Bucky calls your name. “Yeah?” you reply, barely masking the startled stutter in your voice.

“Pass me the salt?”

“Oh! Sure, of course,” you muster, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of you as you hand him the salt shaker.

“Thanks, doll,” he flirts with a smile, the same one he gave you that night when he got back to the compound. You nearly choke. “Bucky Barnes called me a term of endearment?!? Holy shit.” Your heart swells and you look down at your glass in a desperate attempt to hide the blush creeping its way across your cheeks. “Goodness gracious, I respond this way from a simple word?” You couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if he touched you.

It didn’t take long to find out. The following day, you stand in the kitchen prepping your lunch, singing softly along to the song playing from your phone. Bucky appears soon after. He stands close to you for a moment, closer than necessary, but of course you don’t mind. He has just showered; his cologne lingers in the air, intoxicating you. Somehow, you keep singing along, showing no sign that your mind is elsewhere.

“Ugh, he smells amazing. This man has too much power over me; this is ridiculous! I don’t even remember what I was doing—”

“You have a beautiful voice,” he compliments.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you softly reply, your heart racing at his praise.

“Let me get by you real fast, doll,” he says, moving to walk behind you.

“There he goes again with the pet name. My god, could this get any worse—”

He places his hands gently on your hips as he moves beside you. Electricity travels through your whole body; you’re internally screaming at his touch. His hands feel better than you imagined. Even though the contact lasts only a moment, the effects of his touch linger after, leaving you speechless.

You hear a musical chuckle from the man behind you. “Is he teasing me? It sure feels like it,” you wonder. There is no way that he can’t see the effect he has on you. Before you can even formulate another thought, he touches you again as he moves back to the other side of you. “That was definitely on purpose; certainly he wouldn’t do this by accident. Right?”

Your eyes linger as he finishes putting together his lunch. He catches your gaze and smiles. “See you later, sweetheart,” he says with a wink before leaving the room. “Okay, that answers my question; that was very intentional. What am I going to do with myself?”

You don’t know how much longer you can take his teasing. Throughout the week, he ups his antics, calling you pet names more than your own, stealing touches whenever he can get away with it, smiling whenever you make eye contact. The tension is insatiable; thoughts of Bucky follow you everywhere. You decide to take matters in your own hands; Bucky did not seem to be planning to make a move anytime soon. If he is going to tease the hell out of you, you might as well get some payback.

───────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Tony’s announcement of Friday night karaoke gives you a wicked idea. However, for it to work, you need to recruit help. You know just who to ask. It doesn’t take long to find Sam and Steve; they spent a ton of their free time sparring in the gym. They seem to be at the end of their workout, their movements slow and sloppy, relying on witty retorts to throw off the other. They stop when they notice your arrival.

“Hey!” Sam says with a smile, hugging you as you approach. You squeeze him tightly, even with his sticky sweat coating his arms. You greet Steve with a hug too.

“What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Steve asks as you let go.

“Can I ask you guys something? And you promise you two won’t laugh at me? Especially if I'm reading this wrong?”

“Of course,” answers Steve.

“Yeah, for sure,” replies Sam.

You hesitate for a second, taking a deep breath. “Does Bucky like me? I swear he does. He keeps teasing me, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I think I am practically in love with the guy at this point, he’s so beautiful and—”

You stop as the boys exchange glances and begin laughing.

You cross your arms, hurt. “You said you wouldn’t laugh at me! I can’t control how I feel.”

“No! Wait! We aren’t laughing at you!” Steve says between giggles.

You furrow your brows. “Then why are you laughing?”

“Bucky’s obsessed with you,” Steve answers after calming his laughter.

“God, yes, you’re all he talks about nowadays,” Sam adds.

“What?! He does? Why? Are you shitting me right now? Because that would be really freaking mean—“

“No! Of course not,” Steve insists. “Don’t you see the way he looks at you?”

“And the pet names he gives you?” Sam adds.

“And how he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself lately?” Steve finishes.

Now you feel stupid for even asking. Of course you noticed all of those things. They were all you ever thought about. “Well, yeah, but maybe he does that with all the girls.”

“What girls?” Sam retorted. “The only women who are here often enough to cross paths with him are you, Natasha, and Wanda. Wanda’s with Vision, as weird as that is, but love is love. Natasha shoots daggers at anyone who looks at her with love in their eyes. That leaves you.”

“Why in the world would he like me? Of all people? He’s out of my league,” you sigh,

Sam’s scoff pulls you from your thoughts. “Bucky? Out of your league? He’s a crazy ex-assassin with emotional issues! If anything, he's out of your league.”

“You’re a catch, why wouldn’t he like you?” Steve assures.

Steve and Sam always know just what to say to make you feel better. “I guess you’re right,” you admit with a defeated grin.

“So, you know how Bucky feels. What are you going to do about it?” Steve asks.

“I have an idea, but I need your help.”

“We’re listening.”

You divulge your plan to them. They smile, hyping you up.

“Dude, I’m so down!” Sam exclaims, clapping his hands in excitement.

“You think this will work?”

“Definitely,” Steve assures. “This is going to be amazing!”

“Okay then, we’re doing this. Let’s go find Bucky. Time to initiate phase one.”

───────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky is sitting on the common room couch, flipping through a book when he sees you, Sam, and Steve enter. He exchanges a glance with you, smiling as your eyes light up. The three of you sit down. You’re sitting next to Sam, closer than usual. There’s a brief moment of silence before you speak. “Sam, are you going to karaoke night?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss everyone’s drunk-ass singing for the world.”

“Will you be my duet partner?”

This catches Bucky’s attention. He looks up from his book. Why the hell were you asking Sam to sing with you? You normally ask the girls...

“Sure thing, baby. It’ll be a ton of fun!” Sam smiles.

Baby?! What?! How dare he call you a pet name, his girl, right in front of him? Well, you may not be his girl yet, but Sam knows how he feels about you. What the hell is he thinking?

“Yay! This’ll be so fun!” You hug him, grabbing his hand before continuing, “Wanna practice with me in a bit?”

“Find me when you’re ready, sweetheart,” Sam answers, kissing your knuckle before letting go of your hand.

Sweetheart?! What the fuck was going on? Did he miss his shot? Would Sam really do that to him? Bucky can barely handle his swirling thoughts. He storms out of the room without looking back.

Steve can’t help but laugh once Bucky is out of earshot. “That worked a little too well, wouldn’t you say so?”

“That wasn’t too far, was it?” you ask with a worried expression on your face.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. He’ll just come on even stronger now. He won’t give up on you that easily,” Sam assures you.

───────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky can barely contain his anger as you step on the stage with Sam, giggling and smiling at your karaoke partner. Jealousy engulfs him. He can barely listen to the start of the song, ignoring the catchy beat blasting through the speakers. He doesn’t recognize the song, but looks up from his drink when you sing, “Hey Bucky boy, what you doing tonight? I wanna see what you got in store."

He looks right at you. Did she just say Bucky?

Sam echoes, “Hey, hey Bucky!” Well, that answers his question.

“You're giving it your all when you're dancing on me. I want to see if you can give me some more,” you continue, twirling your fingers through your hair.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“You can be my man, I can be your girl, and we can pump this jam however you want,” you sing, swaying your hips to the cadence of the lyrics.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“Pump it from the side, pump it upside down, or we can pump it from the back and the front,” you wink as you finish the line. Bucky sits up suddenly, crossing his legs, his face turning beet red. You smile, knowing the plan was working. Steve laughs from beside him. He keeps his eyes glued on you as the two of you continue the song, utterly entranced. You look him right in the eye as you end the song, “I want you tonight.”

You saunter over to where he is sitting after high-fiving Sam, confidence filling your chest. “So, what did you think of my performance, Bucky?”

You yelp as he grabs your hips and pulls you down to sit on his lap. His voice deepens, “you’re such a tease, you know that right?”

You laugh. “I’m the tease? Really? You’re the one who just pulled me onto your lap and taunts me with flirtatious remarks and smiles all freaking day. My god Bucky, make a move already—”

He cuts you off, pulling you in for a kiss, his flesh arm grabbing the back of your neck. The team whoops and cheers.

“Glad you finally made a move, Bucky,” you pant as your lips part from his.

“Best decision I ever made in my life, doll.” Before you can respond, he kisses you again, the karaoke bar fading in the background as you finally embrace the man of your dreams.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mickey-henry #bucky barnes fic #my fic: hey bucky #mel's writing

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sebsbrokentoe · 3 years

Text

Comfort

A/N: I’m actually nervous to post this one cause yk i always doubt myself but this was purely because of the gif because it does things to me.

taglist entry form

masterlist

warnings: fluff, some kissing, 18+, Bucky is honestly a warning.

word count: 734

You were nose down in another book of yours trying to pay attention to the words but you had a distraction next to you.

“Babe come on, please” Bucky was very needy today, more than usual, normally you would be the one annoying him but everywhere you went he followed, you even had to lock him out of the bathroom when you needed to pee.

“I’m reading Bucky, give me a few more minutes”. You refrained from looking at him but you knew he was pouting like a child.

“But you said that a few minutes ago, which means your few minutes are up”. Apparently, he had enough of your few minutes nonsense and pulled the book out of your hands, which made you kind of upset because now you lost your page, but you couldn’t even stay mad at his pouty face because he gave you that look, which could make anyone fall at his feet. You tried not to fall for it but you were only human.

You were pulled into his lap, with a grin on Bucky’s face the size of the Cheshire cat. You couldn’t help but smile at him, his giddiness rubbing off on you. You reached to put your hands around his neck, while he had his hands on hips, moving up and down.

“Is this what you wanted?” You smirked at him a bit playfully at his neediness when he leaned forward to sit upright to hold you tighter.

“You’re not close enough”. He pouted again trying to pull you as close as possible, tugging on your hoodie sliping his hands under the fabric to hold your waist. You laughed at him when he went further to rest his head on your breasts squeezing your waist a bit too much but you didn’t complain

“I don’t think you could get any closer” Your hands found their way in his hair slightly tugging it when he let out a small moan at the feeling.

These were your favourite moments with him, the simple ones where you both would just hold each other and not worry about anything. It was the only peaceful time he had, whenever you were around. Normally he would prefer just lying around with you but you were always doing something, whether it was baking, reading a book, dancing to music, watching movies or browsing the bookstore, you always wanted to explore. On some days he would convince you to relax and just lie down with him, it didn’t take long to convince you though, a few kisses and some promises about what he would do to you and you’d all but fall at his feet. He loved having that effect on you but he would be lying if he said you didn’t do the same to him.

“We could be closer if you took off your clothes, you know”. Then he went on to pull your hoodie off but unfortunately for him he was unsuccessful.

“It’s freezing cold in here, I’m not taking off my clothes”. You would swear you told him that you were breaking up with him when you with the look on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at his face, feeling content at the moment.

“I’ll make it up to you later, i promise” You linked your hands behind his neck to pull yourself closer to him and pecked him lightly on the lips but that wasn’t enough for him and he held your waist on his lap and went back in for more. He sipped his tongue into your mouth with no resistance from your side, your hips now having a mind of their own started to gently move against his crotch, earning a moan from the both of you. Your mouths danced together and he moved your hips with more vigour, you now pulled away to moan against his mouth.

Suddenly, he stopped moving your hips and stopped his movements altogether, pulling away to look at you with a smirk on his face, his lips pink and swollen.

“Later, remember” You groaned, disappointment flowing through you when you realised he used your own words against you. You rested your head on his chest and he kissed your hair while laughing at your condition.

“Come on, we’ll get some food and I”ll have my dessert after” And well you couldn’t be more excited to get some food.

#Bucky Barnes #soft bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x you #bucky x poc!reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Rainy Days

Spencer x Reader

Request: @starwithoutdarkness - Hey! I heard you were looking for requests! Maybe Spencer Reid x reader fake dating fluff? Combined with Request: @paulaern - Hello! What about Spencer Reid x reader when they realizes they love each other? Like reader makes something for Spencer and he thinks like "I can't deny anymore, I'm completely and hopeless in love with her" or something like that (G!neutral if you want)

A/N: Thank you so much for sending in requests! Hope this makes you smile!

Warnings: Swearing, moderate BAU violence, creepy men, fluffiest fluff, intense headache description. Set randomly post prison Reid but Hotch is still there because he should have been! WC-2,488

Spencer was staring at the geo-profile he had been working on all day, very glad to be inside. The weather in Seattle had stayed consistently rainy for the two days the BAU team had been in town assisting in catching a killer, who had been committing serial robberies/murders with no apparent rhyme or reason. And while Spencer didn’t mind the rain, he did mind loud, busy cities. Combined, they usually led to a headache that would take a day or two to recover.

The door to the conference room he was working alone in burst open and slammed shut so suddenly he nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to see-

You.

Spencer hated it when you appeared without warning, catching him entirely off guard and presenting the risk that you would notice the visible effort it took for him to compose himself around you.

While he’d noticed how beautiful and hilarious and empathetic you were the moment you joined the team, he’d fallen in love with you when you had your first case with them. Spencer had begun to ramble about the specifics of casinos, and how ‘beating the house’ was nearly impossible, when the rest of the team had tuned out. A temporary member, Agent Seaver, had sneered ‘I’m sorry I asked.” Effectively shutting him up. But then you had turned in your seat next to him and, after shooting Seaver a look had asked him to continue. And though he didn’t have that much more to say, and it wasn’t all that interesting, you listened to every single word and thanked him.

It had been years since that had happened, your friendship had blossomed into best friends, something Spencer cherished immensely. This was partly why he shoved his feelings down. The relationship did not need to change for Spencer to remain happy; as long as he got to spend time with you at work, or watch movies and make tent forts in his living room. And visit his mom (who adored you and always gave you book recommendations that you would be sure to read the moment you could), or go to comic conventions and museums...yes, as long as he could always do those things with you, he was happy.

No need to risk changing a perfect thing.

Now though, you were shutting the door and giving him your most panicked look, wide-eyed, with your hair damp from the rain you no doubt had run through to get inside, accounting for your breathlessness. If it weren’t for the worry that had sprung up inside of him upon seeing your expression, he would have fixated on how beautiful you looked at that moment.

“Spencer, you’re my boyfriend.” You whisper yelled at him, quickly stepping closer and setting your bag down on the conference table.

“Wha-“ He began, but you cut him off frantically.

“I’ll explain-just, oh fuck-“

Spencer stood frozen to the spot as the door reopened and one of the senior detectives sauntered in, a friendly smile somewhat overshadowed by the almost predatorial glint in his eyes. You awkwardly stepped closer to Spencer, raising a hand in hello.

“Agent (Y/L/N), great to see you’re back, I was hoping to catch you before the end of the day!” He said merrily, placing two hands on the back of the nearest chair. Something about the way his hands gripped the chair made Spencer feel...on edge.

You gave the fakest little giggle Spencer had ever heard from you, “Oh, nice to see you too Detective! Just had to catch up with Agent Reid here...”

When his eyes moved from you to assess Spencer briefly, he felt a protective force rear up, instincts entirely at alert. Without hesitating, he casually draped an arm over your shoulder, brushing some hair back as he did, and replied, “And you promised we could get some coffee from the Starbucks down the road, hon.”

He enjoyed the way your cheeks flushed and noticed the pulse in your neck pick up. You glanced up at him, trying to look coy but he knew you too well and could see you were partly surprised, and also trying not to laugh.

“Um, of course, I nearly forgot, babe, let’s go in about 5-unless, did you need something specific, Detective?” She broke off to glance back at the now scowling man, who gave an annoyed jerk of his head before stomping back out of the room.

Once the door banged closed behind him, you let out the biggest sigh of relief, raising a hand to your face in dismay.

Spencer hadn’t removed his arm yet, “I’m assuming I just helped you avoid being asked out, but why-?”

“Uhg, Spencer, I’ve already turned him down TWICE since we’ve arrived! He’s literally the kind of dude who doesn’t take no for an answer unless another man has some fucking misogynistic claim over the woman!” You exclaimed, before moving to stand right in front of Spencer and lean just your head to his chest, staring down at the floor, “I hate everything.”

Spencer laughed, patting your back softly, but internally making note that he wouldn’t be letting you go anywhere alone for the rest of this case-that detective gave him the creeps. And while you were beyond capable of protecting yourself, he just knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything if he thought you could be hurt.

“Well, just so we’re clear I would never want to be called ‘babe’ in a relationship.” He joked and the desired effect was his immediate reward when you lifted your head and giggled-your genuine, beautiful little giggle-and then grinned.

“Spencer, you called me ‘hon’ like we were 70.”

Spencer considered a moment, “We could be, you’ll be Gladys and I’ll be-“

“Winston!” You supplied eagerly, and he frowned at you, trying not to laugh.

“Winston?”

“It’s really very dignified, the kind of name where people call you ‘sir’.” You replied cheekily, and while Spencer grinned, a part of him felt a swoop of pleasure when your lips formed the word ‘sir’.

He decided very quickly that he liked the idea of you calling him that. And then, just as swiftly dismissed that train of thought and chastised himself.

As you both stood together and laughed, the door swung open and Hotch and the team followed him in, all in various stages of the results of exposure to the rain, looking equally grim. Spencer and you abruptly stopped when you saw their expressions and launched back into work mode seamlessly.

———

Two days later, the team was closing in on the unsub and everyone was on high alert. Taking the profile and applying it to the geo-profile he had been working on, Spencer had narrowed down this grubby old apartment that sat above a nightclub as the most likely spot the unsub was staying at. Of course, they were arriving at night which meant the club was busy and loud, people lined up out the doors waiting for their chance to enter, pay too much for a drink and grind their bodies against strangers.

Spencer’s headache from the unforgiving rain was thrumming now with the music that seemed entirely unencumbered by the walls of the stairwell, the team slowly climbing. It was bad enough that his eyes narrowed somewhat, but he didn’t lose focus.

You were behind him, watching his six as Hotch and Morgan approached the door ahead and prepared to breach. Spencer slipped a hand behind his back and, on cue, you’re pinky wrapped with his. A brief promise to each other, ‘I’ve got you.’.

They had anticipated violence and heavy arms, so when their announcement was met with silence and the door was kicked open, the tactical response was to secure positions and carefully proceed. Agents and SWAT members lined the building and were, at that moment, securing the club below to ensure the unsub couldn’t flee into a room full of potential hostages.

Spencer and you were the third pair to enter, quickly moving ahead of the others to secure more rooms, eyes peeled for movement. The floor was covered in litter and random spots of dirt and dried substances. It smelled like body odour and axe body spray-which immediately went to Spencer’s headache and caused it to throb in protest.

“Freeze!”

You had shouted right as Spencer noticed the movement from a back room down the hall, as the unsub leaned out and, not abiding by the command, opened fire. Spencer grabbed you and swung you both behind the wall of the kitchen, out of the line of fire while he shouted the unsubs location.

You recovered quickly, dropping to the ground and leaning out to return fire as Hotch and Morgan ran across to the living room to join the battle. It only took a few moments after that before Morgan managed to get a shot to the suspect's shoulder and he fell with a cry of anguish.

You popped up from the ground, watching as Prentiss and Rossi moved forward to secure the man, and barked into your radio for medics to come in.

Spencer, meanwhile, was reeling. When the shots in the room had all joined together in a cacophony, sound and noise piercing his skull, it had converted to pain and panic in his skull, overwhelming him. He had used his own body to shield yours when he pulled you with him into the wall, and the caution he took with you meant he hadn’t caught himself carefully enough, his head bouncing lightly off of the stone wall.

Which, on a normal day would have simply been annoying. But today, with a headache so severe he was beginning to get spots in his vision, it was detrimental. The scene was secure, so he allowed his eyes to shut, a meagre reprieve but at least it was something, at least he didn’t have to see the beams from the flashlights or the pulsing of the neon signs outside of the windows...

“Winston, take my hand.” Your voice was so, so soft. Spencer let his mouth open slightly, a small rush of air all he managed, trying to say ‘I can’t-it hurts, make it stop’ but you grasped his hand tightly and pulled and he followed, his other hand reaching and grabbing that back of your vest, he let you lead him.

He knew from the reduced foot traffic of agents and crime scene workers that you were taking the rear exit, a stairwell that was narrower than the main. He peeked through his lashes to take the stairs, and then suddenly, the cool night air hit him and the door was closing behind you both.

You kept walking with purpose, leading Spencer further away from the loud building. The rain spattered his face but with each step the noise reduced and after a short walk it became relatively quiet.

“Sit.” You murmured, halting. Spencer opened his eyes and saw that you had led him to the farthest spot in the parking lot from the building, where trees lined the lot along a community park that was probably utilized by vagrants and drug dealers more than families. But there was a bench, and you were waiting for him to take a seat. You had pulled out a compact, expandable emergency rain shield from one of the pockets on your FBI utility belt and tossed it on the bench, protecting you both from soaking your underwear.

Spencer sat, setting his elbows on his legs and leaning forward with his hands pressed to his face. He took deep, steadying breaths as you joined him, your hand on the back of his neck. At first, he thought you were just resting it there because his FBI vest would have prevented him from feeling your hand on his back, however, a moment later it was joined by your other hand and a very cold object.

Resisting the urge to pull away, he gasped at the contact, “What-?”

“On-the-go cold compress, Doctor.” You explained, leaving it in place and then rummaging again. Spencer wanted to look but the compress, combined with the quiet, was already doing wonders. He continued to take deep breaths.

“When you’re ready, try this.” You said softly, pressing something to his hand. Opening his eyes, he saw a mini flask that had his name written on the side.

He turned his head slowly so as not to move the compress and met your eyes, which were assessing him with concern. “(Y/N), when did we start drinking on the job?”

You giggled quietly, “It’s just water mixed with this like, vitamin powder that’s supposed to be good for rehydrating you quickly. I did some research on how to help headaches like yours on the go, just in case, and I made this ‘Spencer’ care bag.” You rambled a little when he didn’t reply.

Spencer looked back at the flask and opened it, quickly downing the contents. It tasted pretty fruity and he realized he was thirsty, this taking the edge off.

“Is it okay?” You asked. Spencer raised his head and met your eyes, searching them.

He was overwhelmed, the headache already fading, in its place an intensely warm feeling building inside of him as he considered the time and effort you had taken to care for him. He hadn’t asked you, or hinted, you had just taken it on to find a way to help him and you were right there when he needed you the most.

You had always been there when he needed you. When he had been shot protecting Blake, when he struggled to care for his mother, when he had gone to prison, when he was freed, you were there.

The words tumbled out, unable to be contained a second longer.

“I am hopelessly in love with you.”

Your mouth opened and closed in surprise, taken entirely off guard. Though he worried what you would say, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt having finally said it out loud. He watched patiently as your mind processed his confession, holding his breath.

“I-Spencer,” And then suddenly your lips were pressing into his and the pain from his headache ceased entirely. Spencer was consumed by the feel of you against him, of your hands holding his face and the hum of content you gave when he returned your passion, dropping his flask and sliding his hands up your neck, gripping tenderly.

After what could have been hours, weeks, or years, you both broke apart, pulling back just enough to make eye contact without your eyes crossing. Neither of you let go, your breath puffing out in wisps in the cold night air.

“I love you too,” You breathed, “I could grow old with you, Winston.”

Spencer laughed, relief and happiness swooping through him at your words, “Gladys, I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.”

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

You grinned back at Spencer, and then he kissed you again.

#spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #bau x reader #fluff #fake dating #requested #fanfic #reader insert #friends to lovers #best friend #love #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction

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rheawritessometimes · 3 years

Text

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Childe gets an owie while sparing. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Violence, Swearing, Angry Reader, Injury, Physical Intimacy (Kissing).

{ Notes } Hurting Childe just a little because he refused to come home for me. Lost the 50/50. Reader is a sword user. Reader is suggested to be the Traveler. Self-indulgent again because all my writing is. This one is a real trainwreck but I didn't want to go too long without posting. Something better than nothing? Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,404

Meeting Childe at the Golden House every week had been your routine for a while now. Right after you had defeated him the first time, he immediately begged you to train with him and you gave in, unable to bear those puppy-dog eyes. And the entire week he spent pestering you about it.

The whole fiasco with Osial had been put behind the both of you. It was probably true that you were too quick to forgive Childe, but he was just so charming. Not to mention he often paid for your meals, suggesting going out to eat after your sessions or if he saw you around the harbor. On a few occasions, you had been out eating with friends or on your own and found he had picked up your tab.

Since Liyue hadn't been destroyed and you got free food out of it, you really weren't all too upset about the situation. The Snezhnayan was actually pretty easy to get along with when Fatui matters weren't involved. He made you laugh too, so you supposed you could tolerate the once-weekly sparing sessions with him.

Childe called it sparing, but normal people didn't spar with actual weapons and fight like they were going to kill their partner. At first, you had tried to convince him it would be much better and safer for the both of you to use practice weapons instead of sharpened blades and arrows. He was quick to decline, saying something about both of you being competent enough not to get seriously hurt. You thought about refuting that on the basis that he had yet to beat you even once.

Even so, every week you found yourself pushing through the doors to the chamber Childe was always patiently waiting in. You'd never gotten there before him and wondered if he intentionally came early. You wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, he probably paced the room plotting his seemingly unobtainable victory.

The hydro vision paired with his combat experience and skill made him a difficult opponent, but he didn't seem terribly good at strategy. He might have been careless because it wasn't a real fight, but somehow you doubted that. He seemed the type to always give it his all. It could be that was his problem, since his loss usually came due to his exhaustion. Maybe if he didn't spend so much energy trying to show off he'd actually be a proper challenge.

"You're finally here," Childe proclaimed dramatically, voice echoing off the walls, "I thought you might have gotten lost on the way or something. Was starting to worry I'd need to go out and rescue you."

"I'm fifteen minutes early, Childe. How long have you been waiting?" you asked dryly, raising your eyebrow questioningly. You took a moment to shrug your adventuring pack off your shoulders and drop it near the door. You rolled your shoulders, relieved to be free of the weight.

"Ahah, anyways, we should get started. I have some business to attend to today," he responded, indiscreetly ignoring your question. It shouldn't have been very surprising that he didn't wait for your response before sending an arrow flying in your direction, but he'd always waited for you to signal you were ready before starting in the past.

Materializing your sword out of habit more than anything else, you raised it to block the arrow with the flat of the blade. The arrow bounced off the metal with a weak dink, clattering to the ground. If you'd reacted a moment later it would have pierced you.

You shot Childe a dirty look, irate from the cheap shot. He responded by grinning wider and taking aim again. You silently promised that he would face your wrath shortly.

Advancing towards him, you swatted the arrow flying your way with your sword. A bow would be less effective at close range, so you intended to close the distance. The redhead laughed, a hint of nervousness creeping into the sound at the pace of your advance. Or perhaps it was the building rage in your eyes.

The bow dematerialized, now Childe held dual hydro-blades in his hands in anticipation of close combat. Once in range, he immediately swiped at you with a blade. You stepped back out of the way, quickly bringing up your sword to parry the next slash coming from the opposite blade.

Childe seemed encouraged by you backing away, a smug look crossing his face. You furrowed your brows, he was so unthoughtful. He insists on using real weapons, shoots at you before you're ready, and now he has the audacity to get cocky.

You raise your blade to swing down at him and he catches your sword on crossed hydro-blades. He lets out a little huff of air, not expecting you to strike with such force, but his arms hold steady. You swiftly draw your blade back to slash at him again. Thorough training has you swiping at him with practiced ease while Childe is forced to switch to the defensive.

It gives you a sort of satisfaction to see his expression change to one of worry, it was your first time seeing such a look on him. You had no intention of actually hurting him, but it was nice to scare him a little. Maybe after this, he'd take the dangers of sparing with actual weapons a little more seriously. But probably not.

You're hardly thinking when his hydro-blades finally fail to parry your blows, the flat of your blade slamming into the side of his chest resulting in a soft crack barely loud enough to reach your ears. A look of surprise crosses your face when he lets out a pained grunt, what had happened finally being processed in your mind.

Immediately you drop your sword, ignoring it as it clatters to the ground before dematerializing. You were internally relieved to see his hydro-blades dissipate too, it would have been terribly unsportsmanly of him to stab you now. Stepping forward on instinct, you pause as you realize you're not exactly sure what to do.

Childe clutches his chest as he coughs a few times and a flood of panic washes over you. If you broke his ribs, his lungs could have been punctured. That would be bad.

"Fuck, that hurts," he huffed out before he attempted to gingerly sit down, right in the middle of the Golden House. Childe winced at the movement, but he managed to settle, leaning on his arms for support. His breathing was heavy from the strain of sparing and you felt extremely guilty, broken ribs had a tendency to hurt terribly and pain would flare up with every breath. At least he seemed to be breathing okay, so his lungs were probably intact.

"Let me get something to ease the pain," you said hastily, jogging towards the door to grab your bag. Your first thought was to numb him up before bringing him to Bubu Pharmacy to get some proper help.

"Aw, are you actually worried about me?" he cooed teasingly, maintaining that signature annoying grin despite the pain that followed him speaking. It was easy to ignore him as you rummaged through your bag for something useful.

It crossed your mind that it would be exceedingly difficult to get him all the way back to Liyue if you gave him anything strong. That limited your options rather greatly, adding that on to your lacking medical knowledge and limited variety of resources left you with fewer options than you would have liked. He probably could make it back without any anesthetic but it would be slow and you'd feel terrible for it.

Even with your lack of selection, you were thankful to have some knowledge and materials for this sort of thing, adventuring made you better at improvising and you learned a lot along the way. Taking everything into consideration, you decided it would be best to go with something topical. You could make a salve to numb up the area and then hopefully drag him to Bubu Pharmacy.

"I'm really sorry, Childe," you apologized, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Oh don't worry about it, this isn't the first time I've broken my ribs. Probably won't be the last, either," he replied with a laugh, which caused him to wince. You only frowned at him as you pulled out some plants to grind up. A rock would have worked, but you kept a mortar and pestle for this kind of thing after realizing you'd be doing it often.

You were soon mashing some leaves and a few petals into a paste, with some water Childe so graciously provided. Having a hydro user around was rather convenient when practicing field medicine.

"Whatcha makin'?" Childe asks after a short period of silence, leaning over to get a closer look. You wonder if he's actually curious or if he just can't tolerate the quiet. It seemed the two of you were always talking when you were together, save for when your sparing got too intense to spare the breath.

"A salve to numb you up so I can drag you to Bubu Pharmacy," you responded, still mostly focused on getting the paste to the right consistency.

"What? No, I can't go. I've got work to do," he argued, moving to stand up now.

You were quick to grab his wrist to prevent him from getting up, furrowing your brows. Childe paused, waiting for your explanation.

"You have at least one broken rib, whatever you need to do can wait," you told him sternly, maintaining eye contact. He turned his gaze away from you to hum in contemplation. He knew well enough that giving injuries time to heal was important, but so was his job.

"Fine, I guess what I was supposed to do today isn't that important," he relented, leaning back into a comfortable position once more. Childe had a feeling that if he had insisted on working you'd have found a way to stop him anyway.

"Can you take off your shirt?" you asked, trying to sound as casual and not awkward as possible once you were satisfied with the consistency of the paste. You would have offered to allow him to apply it himself but you figured it would be less painful this way, plus you'd need to bandage his chest afterward, so it didn't make much of a difference.

"Oh my, you're not usually this bold," he teased, reaching to begin undoing the clasps holding his jacket together. His remark made you decide against offering your assistance despite the awareness that even just wriggling out of the jacket probably hurt. It's okay to be a little petty sometimes. As a treat.

Once his torso was bare you shifted your position to be a bit closer and examined his side. There was already the beginning of bruising, but it would get much darker by tomorrow. You ignored the scars and other bruises that were present, very aware of the fact the redhead would tease you for staring if you looked any longer.

"I promise I'll be gentle," you assured, "But it'll probably hurt a little."

Childe just hummed, waving off your warning, so you gathered some of the salve on your fingers. You silently wished you'd had gloves that weren't absorbent with you so your hands wouldn't grow numb later.

It was a quick process of spreading the paste over his ribs, but his eyes remained on you the entire time. You couldn't be sure if he was just interested in what you were doing, but it surprised you that he remained entirely silent.

"It'll take a little while to numb up. I'm going to bandage your chest for support. This will hurt more," you informed him, dragging your pack towards you to dig out a roll of bandages.

"Don't worry, I'm a tough boy," he laughed in response, and you could only smile and shake your head at him. You had faith in his strength, but that didn't stop the guilt you felt over being responsible for his pain. It did make you feel better when he started reminiscing on past injuries he'd sustained in battle once you began bandaging him. How he could look back on them so fondly was a mystery to you.

At first, you were mindful to touch him as little as possible while you were wrapping the bandages. They needed to be a little tight to provide support but you tried to ensure they put as little pressure on his ribs as possible. Unfortunately, your fingers started to grow numb and you hadn't realized you'd been bandaging too tightly until Childe let out a soft grunt of pain.

"Fuck, sorry," you apologized, quickly unraveling the last section of bandaging to rewrap it more loosely.

"Don't worry about it," he said, thinking for a moment before adding, "But, if you want to make it up to me, a kiss would make me feel better."

Pausing in your ministrations, you looked up to see a cheeky grin on his face. You raised a brow, giving him an entirely unimpressed expression. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to flirt like this, trying to get a reaction out of you. But as you reached one hand up to gently grab his chin, it was his turn to become flustered.

Leaning up, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before moving away and releasing your hold on him. You patted his cheek twice, giving him an amused grin.

"You're welcome."

"Hey! That doesn't count!" Childe immediately whined, pouting at you. You could only laugh at his playful antics as you finally finished wrapping his chest.

"You're cruel, you know that?" the Snezhnayan grumbled, eyebrows still furrowed as he continued to pout. He really did seem like a spoiled kid at this moment and you laughed again, causing his frown to deepen.

You knew his demeanor was all theatrical, but as you stared at his expression you found yourself leaning towards him again. You gently pressed your lips to his, smiling into the kiss when his hands eagerly flew up to your face. You indulged in the kiss for a few moments, smirking when he followed you as you pulled away. Putting a hand on his shoulder, you halted his attempt to continue.

"You can have another kiss once you get checked out at Bubu Pharmacy."

If you read all that, I'm sorry lol. I wanted to spend more time on it but I don't want to take too long posting things. Anyways, if you have any better ideas for what I should write send them in. Please.

There's a part two now: Part 2

#.rhea writes #.r let's make a deal #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader #genshin childe #childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia #tartagalicious #taking my anger out on childe #but also simping for childe #fluff #is this fluff?

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prince-honeypaw · 2 years

Note

Hi!! All your posts make me so happy! If it’s okay could I request some regressor Dabi headcanons? Absolutely anything is fine but if you want more specific maybe something to do with regressing for the first time and/or accepting that side of himself! Hope you’re having a good day/night!! 💕

♡ Thank you so much for the sweet message! I hope you don't mind the lateness of this post as I waffled around on it a lot before I got around to some ideas that I was happy with.

♡ WARNING: This starts off a little more angsty than I usually go. There will be mentions of sickness and injuries so please proceed with caution and care!

♡ Please enjoy!

♡ The earliest memory Dabi has of his regression was not long after the incident that left him riddled with third degree burns. He'd been patched up by a nameless and faceless entity then sent on his way where he met Giran. Dabi was a pretty sad sight, vomiting up bile in an alleyway after bumping one of his mended knees into a crate... and the guy couldn't leave him there to rot. He was just a kid. So, Dabi ended up crashing with the broker for a long while.

♡ His first few months were actually spent almost entirely in his headspace! Though, the harder parts of his headspace to be exact. The pain of his stitches and the lingering nausea that came with his painkillers left him a mess. He'd wake up shrieking and wailing at odd hours, phantom pains ricocheting through his nerves, digging his nails into his clothes until they ripped and let the cool air settle him back into reality. Then he'd hug his pillow as tight as possible and try to settle back to sleep.

♡ When everything settled into a new normal and Dabi could properly leave his headspace... He shoved it to the farthest corners of his mind, swearing to never- EVER- be seen in such a vulnerable state again. And he didn't.

♡ For awhile.

♡ After being in the league for awhile, Dabi thought that he could keep that promise to himself. He had a pretty good read on everyone; the only plausible threats to luring out The Beast had to be Kurogiri or Magne so far and that was fine, they were easy to avoid.

♡ He did not anticipate the sleeper hit that was Tomura Shigaraki being a regressor.

♡ It was a fleeting mention when Tomura seemed less coordinated, a conversation that lasted maybe less than a minute: "Is Shigaraki okay? He looks kinda lost," Spinner had asked. And Toga had responded in something of a chirp, "Didn't you know? Tomura regresses! Kurogiri said it happens sometimes and keeps him mellowed out, so don't be weird about it!" "Hey- Who said I would be weird about it?! I don't even-"

♡ Dabi had stopped listening after that and tried to forget he ever even heard it in the first place. (He couldn't forget.)

♡ The nail in the coffin came when a sudden drop left him... Desperate. He craved some sort of familiar company, no matter the cost. So he slinks out of the safety of his room, quiet as a mouse... And carefully tugs the fabric of Big Sis Mag's shirt, looking as pitiful as a kitten in the rain.

♡ Ken is no idiot. She picks up pretty quick that she's got a toddler on her hands and knows better than to make a big deal about it. He's just there to chill.

♡ Or. He was just there to chill until he watched Jin pick Himiko up to swat at Atsuhiro's top hat and decided that he would also like to go up, please.

♡ Looks up at Ken with the Biggest eyes and points, "Go up, sis?"

♡ And. Well... She isn't going to just say no like some kind of a jerk! So... She picks him up on her hip and accepts the grabby hands that eagerly examine the new surroundings.

♡ (Her glasses are inevitably taken and chewed on.)

♡ Dabi is rather fascinated, really. Despite his worries that he'd be seen as weak- a liability even, no one really cared that he was little. It was just something that happened, something that maybe he needed.

♡ Something that was apart of him.

♡ And that was okay to them.

♡ Maybe, just maybe, it also became okay to him too.

#tw: vomit #tw: injury #sfw agere #bnha agere #Agere Dabi #Honey HCs

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years

Text

Irresistible Danger - Part 57

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,388

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Author’s Note: We’re interrupting the emotions and angst for a healthy dose of smut in this one.

A Wonderfully Well-F*cked Morning

You drifted to consciousness on a wave of pleasure, the sensations happening below your waist causing you to automatically arch your back and reach down. When your fingers came in contact with thick, soft hair at the same time that a wet tongue hit your clit, your brain finally decided to come online. Eyes opening in surprise, you looked down and found the breathtaking visual of Negan’s gorgeous face buried between your thighs.

Holy shit, what a way to start the day.

Glancing up, his mouth curled in a soul-stealing grin at the sight of you awake and watching. His “mornin’ doll” was spoken directly to your soaked cunt, the rumbled vibration of the words making you give a small moan and open your thighs wider, so he could do as he wished.

And, apparently, what he wished was to drive you absolutely mad with desire. The distant and withdrawn Negan of last night was gone, and in his place was the playful and passionate man before you. He teased with soft kisses along the crease at the top of your thigh and lazy laps of his tongue that just barely grazed where you needed them. When you tried to lift your hips in search of more friction, his large hands pinned them to the mattress.

It wasn’t long before you had a deathgrip on his hair, thighs trembling, and even the muscles in your stomach starting to quiver. And yet still he continued, the devilish gleam in his eyes when he glanced up at you while gently sucking your clit almost enough to send you over the edge, until he backed off and went back to nipping at your inner thighs instead.

You were just about to beg, plead, and promise whatever he wanted, including your soul, when a muffled knocking sound broke through the top layer of hazy desire shrouding you. Negan ignored the noise, continuing with his delicious torture so that you almost instantly forgot the sound had ever happened. But then it came again a few seconds later, this time loud and sharp...and right outside the bedroom door.

Letting go of his hair and jolting up onto your elbows, you looked down at Negan with wide eyes. He had finally lifted his head from your pussy, the sight of his lips glistening with your wetness causing a soft moan to escape that you prayed whoever was at the door didn’t hear.

“Fucking leave!” he yelled in that no-nonsense tone that both terrified and yet also made an extra trickle of wetness run down your thigh.

The voice that responded was muffled through the door, but still unmistakably Simon. “Sorry, boss, but there’s a situation that needs your urgent attention in meeting room C.”

Cursing harshly, Negan dropped his forehead to your lower stomach for a few seconds before lifting his head and yelling back, “I’ll fucking be there in 5!”

You stared in the direction of the office and listened for a few seconds until the unmistakable sound of Simon banging the door closed sounded (perhaps a bit louder than needed, as if he was letting you know that he was gone). You turned back to Negan, who now had a devious smirk on his face as he looked up at you.

Giving a doubtful expression, you said, “Only five minutes?”

“Oh, doll,” he chuckled, head ducking down so the rest was muffled against your wet flesh. “That’s plenty of time.”

It was then that you realized just how much he had been toying with you before, as his demeanor instantly changed from playful to intense, and he set to work on your cunt. He knew just where to nip and lick, and when he latched onto your clit and sucked with the perfect amount of pressure, you shot off like a rocket, coming in less than a minute from when Simon had left.

Still panting and sprawled across the mattress, you watched dazedly as he got up and went to his armoire for clothes to get dressed. He winced when tucking his erection into the boxer briefs and dark grey pants, and the bulge made your mouth water.

“What about you?” you asked with a nod in his cock’s direction.

Pulling on his boots, he then straightened and trailed desire-bright eyes over your sated form spread out on his bed. “I thought I already made that clear, doll,” he quipped.

Unsure if it was the post-orgasm haze making you so dense or if he was purposely being vague, you asked, “What’s that?”

Walking around the side of the bed fully dressed, while you lay totally naked with thighs still spread and naked chest heaving, he ran a warm, calloused hand down over your throat and the tips of your breasts before answering.

“That this relationship is about more than me getting my fucking rocks off.”

His hand moved lower, between your thighs, and he watched as if mesmerized at how you shuddered and arched into the feel of his touch on your still-sensitive flesh. “However, that being said-” he backed up a step and pointed at you with a stern look on his face, “-don’t fucking move from that bed until I get back.”

He then tucked his tongue into his cheek, gave a playful wink, and was gone. Staring up at the ceiling, you figured this was one order you’d gladly follow, seeing as how your muscles wouldn’t be able to function properly enough to help you stand, anyways. It wasn’t until a couple minutes after he was gone that you sat straight up on the bed at the remembrance of his earlier words.

He had called it a relationship!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Forty-five minutes later and you, unsurprisingly, were in fact not able to follow his order, after all. Which shouldn’t be a surprise because, well, it was you we were talking about here, and when did you ever listen?

You had tried though, really you had. After Negan left, and your breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, you sat up against the headboard to wait. Your eyes landed on a book that was open facedown on his bedside table, and the parallel to your own reading habits made you smile. Picking it up, you saw that it was some sort of psychological thriller. Making a note of what page it had been opened to, you huddled down into the plush mattress, the soft black headboard at your back, and started reading from the beginning.

However, when the black and grey wall clock near the door ticked by almost an hour that he had been gone, you put the book down and sighed in annoyance. Whatever the emergency meeting had been about, it looked as though it might take a while, and you didn’t enjoy the thought of sitting here all morning and afternoon waiting, as if at his beck and call. Your brain also unhelpfully threw out the reminder of your previous plan not to have sex with Negan until a serious conversation was had about that damned padlocked box of unanswered questions. The subconscious, exasperated with the brain pulling this bullshit so early in the morning, yelled at it to please shut the hell up.

Fuck it, you can at least freshen up a bit before he gets back, you thought while tossing off the sheet and standing from the bed. Stretching pleasantly sore muscles, you wandered over to the large armoire and tugged open one of the drawers. Smiling at how neatly the clothes inside were folded, you selected a moss green shirt and pulled it over your head. It was much baggier than his usual style, and you had never seen him wear it before, making you wonder if he ever got a chance to take off his leader armor and just sit around relaxing the day away in baggy sweats with a good book. Probably not, seeing as how he couldn’t even enjoy a perfectly delightful you-flavored breakfast without being interrupted.

Heading into the bathroom to relieve your bladder and then wash your hands and face, you looked in the large mirror. Finger-combing hair that had seen better days, you then opened up some of the drawers under the sink that you hadn’t checked yet, mostly out of nosey curiosity. Finding one at the bottom that was stocked full of extra bars of soap, toothpaste, and still-packaged toothbrushes, you let out a tiny whoop of joy. Jackpot!

Opening a green and white toothbrush, you grabbed the already opened toothpaste that was on the countertop and squeezed a dollop onto the brush. Giving a sigh of happiness at the clean, minty taste, you weren’t even worried about Negan being upset you had stolen one of his unopened brushes. Especially since you’d have fresh breath when he crawled back in the bed with you and-

That fantasy died a quick death when the reflection of the man himself stepped into view while you were mid-brush. Locking eyes with him in the mirror, you saw a flicker of something in his expression as he took you in, standing there in his shirt and brushing your teeth with his personal supplies.

“I thought I told you to be in the fucking bed when I got back,” he said, but his voice didn’t have the extra little growl that signified he was truly pissed. In fact, he almost sounded amused.

Before you could even remove the toothbrush to respond, he stepped up behind you so that his front was pressed into your back. “Nevermind, doll,” he drawled while still holding your gaze in the mirror. “This’ll work too.”

You almost choked on toothpaste from gasping at the feel of his large, rough hands running up under the hem of the shirt and over your bare hips. Quickly leaning down to spit out the paste into the sink, you turned on the water and used a cupped hand to rinse out your mouth as he continued rubbing his palms along your torso and down over the outside of your thighs. When you put the toothbrush down and straightened, his mouth immediately attacked the back of your neck, sucking and nipping lightly. His hands moved further up under the shirt to cup your breasts, and his deft fingers pinched and twisted sensitive nipples at the same time that he ground his hips against your bare ass, letting you feel the ridge of his erection through the rough fabric of the pants.

You moaned softly and pressed back into him, almost overwhelmed by how quickly he had barged in and taken control of your body’s reaction. Any thoughts of self-doubt or questions of where you stood with him temporarily flew out the window in the face of the onslaught of intense and thorough possession he was directing your way.

Unlike when you first woke up this morning, no part of him was teasing or going slow this time around. He quickly pulled the baggy shirt up over your head, and the sight of you totally bare made a groan punch from his chest.

He whipped his own shirt and pants off in a quick flurry of movement before leaning in so that his warm chest was pressed into your back as he opened one of the drawers at your hip and pulled out a condom.

Wasting no time, he opened it and rolled it down the swollen cock pressing into the small of your back. When he bent his knees to line up with your entrance, you assisted by hiking a knee up on the edge of the countertop, presenting yourself to him in a way that made him pause for a moment, as if in awe, before plunging inside you with a fierce thrust and strangled growl against the back of your neck.

You looked up and were instantly transfixed by the sight in the mirror. Negan’s tattooed, leanly muscled form towered over yours, his rough edges and possessive thrusts juxtaposed against your softer curves and arching form.

You watched his reflection as he gripped your hips and looked down between your bodies to watch himself fuck you, the sight making you moan and clench around his cock. His gaze lifted, amber eyes locking on yours in the mirror.

One of his hands left your hip, trailing hungrily around the front of your body and up over your stomach and breasts before wrapping long fingers around the front of your throat. The grip was light, but the ruthless ownership behind both it and his pumping hips made your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy.

He leaned in over you, breath coming in hot strikes against the side of your throat. “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl? Like being all. Fucking. Mine.”

The last words were each punctuated by a harsh thrust, making you cry out and open lust-filled eyes. His face was there beside your own, jaw clenched as he watched your reflection in the mirror with a fierce, almost pained expression. He let out a little snarl before turning his mouth to nip at the curve of your shoulder, and that combined with his grip at your throat and heavy, thick cock fucking you against the counter all combined to throw you into an orgasm without warning. He groaned as you shuddered and clenched in his hold, his gravel over sandpaper voice in your ear.

“Yes, milk my fucking cock.”

Coming down off the wave of pleasure, you realized that his pace hadn’t slowed down, that he hadn’t finished yet. You lowered the leg propped up on the counter, needing both feet braced against the cool, tiled floor to keep your shaky body steady.

Your gaze dropped, taking in the reflection of what was happening between your thighs. Both his cock and the inside of your thighs glistened with a coating of your release, and he felt even bigger inside of you, now that your walls were a little swollen and tender from both the friction of his cock and your recent orgasm. Right when his movements became almost too overwhelming against your oversensitized cunt, and you were about to ask for a break, he paused his thrusts and removed the hand from around your throat.

Your thought that he was granting you a reprieve was instantly proven wrong when he gave a growled warning of, “Brace your arms on the sink,” right before his forearms hooked down under both your knees and lifted your entire lower body off the ground. Since the action pushed you forward, your body had no choice but to do as he said, forearms holding the weight of your upper body against the surface of the sink while your lower half hung suspended at the perfect height for his cock.

He resumed his quick pace, fucking into you relentlessly. And, surprisingly, instead of becoming too much, the sensations pulled back from borderline painful and started to feel pleasurable again. Very pleasurable.

Your whimper caused him to give a low moan in response, and his voice came through gritted teeth. “That’s it, doll. Fucking come for me again.”

Trying to find your voice, you wanted to say that you weren’t sure if that was possible, that coming again so soon wasn’t likely. Instead, the words choked in your throat when he bent down and licked up your spine before sucking roughly on the skin of your back. He then ground his cock into you so hard that your pelvis pushed against the edge of the counter, the hard surface rubbing over your clit in exactly the right way needed to send your body spasming into a second orgasm.

You lost yourself in pleasure that had no beginning and no end, just endless heavy waves of bliss. Dimly, you heard him give a groan of completion as he gave a few sharp, hard thrusts, and then his body went still. He allowed your legs to lower to the tiled floor, and thank god for being braced on the countertop, otherwise you would’ve crumpled in a quivery heap at his feet.

You took in the reflection of both you and Negan’s sex-dazed expressions, skin flushed and dewy with sweat despite the cool bathroom. A satisfied smile curved his lips, and you watched in the mirror as he bent down and kissed the curve where your neck met shoulder, the scratch of his beard rising goosebumps to the already sensitive flesh. He hummed happily against your skin, and you wished that the two of you could stay in this intimate bubble forever. That no outside intruders or internal thoughts could stand in the way of feeling like this with him every single day.

As if he were thinking something similar, he ran a warm hand down over the curve of your hip and said in a sexy, husky voice, “Now that is a perfect fucking way to finish off the morning.”

Unable to help a dreamy smile in return, you were finally able to fully stand up from the counter without fear of your legs giving out. Turning in his hold, you twined arms up around his neck and tugged him down for a proper kiss involving lips and tongues and even a hint of teeth.

You pulled away after a few long moments, and offered, “What are your plans for today?”

Biting his lip and giving one of his signature cheeky grins, he replied, “I have to go over some new outpost security measures with Simon this afternoon. However…” his hands cupped your ass and kneaded possessively, “my evening is all fucking yours.”

Lord, but you liked the sound of that. Standing on tiptoe and placing another, softer kiss to his lips, you suggested, “How about I bring us dinner around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied with one last squeeze of his hands before he stepped away to dispose of the condom and gather both your clothes off the tiles.

The men had brought back some freshly butchered deer meat from the supply run, and Ben had been excited to try making stew with both it and vegetables from the garden. Thinking of Ben was also a reminder that you had promised to hang out with him today. You were very curious to hear details about what was going on with him and Simon, not to mention needing a friend to talk through some of your own worries regarding Negan.

Pulling the baggy green shirt back on, you preceded him into the bedroom and grabbed your jeans from where they had been discarded on the floor last night. You didn’t want to return his shirt, so tucked it into the jeans to hide the obviously ill-fitting length of it before pulling on your sneakers. Turning, you found an also fully-dressed Negan watching you. His gaze took in the outfit with an expression that was difficult to decipher, but seemed somewhere between appreciative and smug at the sight of you in his shirt.

Struggling not to roll your eyes or make a comment about “males and their strange possessiveness”, you walked out of the bedroom with him following behind. Stopping at the closed office door, you turned and looked up at him, unable to resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers down over his bearded cheek. He bent and gave you one final kiss in return, then opened the door and watched you leave.

You weren’t able to contain the happy grin tipping up the corners of your mouth. Not even the sudden appearance of the brain, who was dragging the padlocked box of questions, could dim your mood. The subconscious strode happily at your side, but as the brain fell more and more behind, struggling to keep up with the heavy metal box, it turned with a sigh and went back to help.

I know. I know! We’ll have a conversation with him tonight; open up the box and air out some of those unanswered questions. But for right now, we’re going to bask in the afterglow of such a wonderfully well-fucked morning.

The brain and subconscious didn’t argue, just huffed and puffed as they worked together to finally pick the box up off the ground. Balancing the heavy weight between them, they gave each other exasperated looks, then hurried down the hall after you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#negan #twd #negan smut #negan fanfics #negan fanfiction #irresistible danger #ash writes #the walking dead #twd negan #negan's thirst squad #negan x you #negan slow burn #slow burn #negan x reader #the walking dead negan #fanfic #fanfiction

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nerdzzone · 3 years

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Luckless Romance

Summary: When Whitney Taylor was lucky enough to get the job of a lifetime doing a photoshoot for Marvel Studios, she didn’t expect to come away from the experience with a new friend. Especially not a friend that she quickly fell head over heels for.

Convinced that those feelings were completely one sided, she kept them to herself - until one night changed everything.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Prequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy + -More Hearts Than Mine-

Note: While this is set before the other two parts of this story, I would definitely recommend reading the other two first if you haven’t already. I know that might seem odd, but I do think it flows better that way. This is more of an aside than an introduction, I think, but it could just be that I wrote them in this order so that’s how it makes sense to me.

Anyway! Thank you to everyone who has been eagerly awaiting this part of their story. The support has been so motivating and I’m already working on more little snippets of their lives together that should hopefully be posted soon.

Please let me know what you think!

_____

August 2015

Growing up in Los Angeles - especially with a rather well known uncle - I was very aware that celebrities were really just normal people who usually weren't deserving of the obsessive adoration they received from the general public.

That being said, it still felt very surreal when I found myself sitting around a table with some of Hollywood's biggest stars as we celebrated the end of a long and tiring photo shoot in which I was the photographer. Three weeks earlier, I had been slaving away at a department store portrait studio taking boring, uninspired family photos, so the contrast between that and where I was now - sharing drinks with the cast of Marvel's next big movie after wrapping my first real photography gig - would be enough to make anyone feel a tad awestruck.

It didn't help that it had all come together so quickly that I'd hardly had time to wrap my head around it. The photographer that they originally had lined up to do the shoot had some kind of family emergency and had to drop out at the last minute. They were going to postpone the shoot indefinitely, but my family connections with Iron Man provided another solution. My uncle Rob wasted no time in giving Marvel my name and portfolio and less than twenty-four hours later I was signing a contract for the biggest career opportunity I'd ever had.

I was endlessly grateful - the pay was far better than I was getting at the department store and there was plenty of potential for more Marvel related photo shoots in the future - but the pressure was nerve wracking. I'd hardly slept at all in the few days leading up to it and by the time we wrapped, I was exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and the relief that I survived kicked in, I was very much looking forward to crawling into my bed with a nice glass of wine to get a good night's sleep before I started the editing process the next day.

But there was no time for rest with this crowd and it was quickly decided that we were all going out for some kind of unofficial wrap party. The official one had been two weeks before when they'd finished filming in Georgia, but now that they were reunited in L.A., it seemed another celebration was necessary. I'd protested at first and tried to sneak off before they could realize I was gone, but my uncle thwarted my plan and, after a few minutes of heavy guilting about how long it had been since I'd spent any time with him, I reluctantly agreed.

Which was how I found myself sitting at a table in a private room of a popular bar with my uncle - Robert Downey Jr - my Aunt Susan, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johannsen and Paul Rudd. There were other cast members and their friends dotted around the room, some sitting by the bar while others played pool, and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I'd been given a chance to join this team of incredibly talented people in some small way.

I was also taking a moment to be grateful that my placement in the booth we were sitting in gave me the opportunity to be sandwiched between the wall and Chris Evans - who smelt so good that it should probably be illegal.

There'd been a spark between us all day. He was attractive - I'd known that going in, it was a pretty beautiful cast - but seeing him in person with all his Captain America muscles was really quite a sight.

But it was more than just that.

There was something about the way he looked at me, flashing me those blush inducing smirks along side his teasing comments and the way he was so genuinely kind and polite to me throughout the whole day. I was sure that my uncle had warned them that this was my first high profile shoot, but Chris had been incredibly supportive and he never came across as condescending if he offered me any suggestions. He checked in with me throughout the day to make sure that I wasn't getting too overwhelmed and it was very much appreciated despite the fact that his effortless flirting often left me more distracted than productive.

Sitting next to him now, feeling his thigh pressed against mine due to the tight squeeze needed to fit our whole group around the table, had me very distracted again until my uncle dragged me back into the conversation.

"So, Whitney, how's Trent?"

His question, or more likely the displeasure in his voice when he asked it, captured the attention of the table and all eyes were on me as I shrugged.

"He's great as far as I know, but I haven't talked to him in a while," I admitted. "We broke up a couple of months ago."

"Thank god for that," Robert grinned. "It's about time!"

"Don't be insensitive," Susan scolded him, which probably would have been deserved if I didn't know how accurate of a statement it was. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I think she means 'what horrible thing did he do that finally made you come to your senses'?"

Susan swatted at her husband, but I cringed at the memory.

"It was really bad. I don't even want to tell you."

His jaw tightened at that remark as his glee shifted to something more like concern.

"What did he do? Do I need to assemble my team of Avengers and kick his ass?"

I giggled at the thought of that happening as all the men around the table voiced their willingness to help.

"Thank you, but no, I'd rather you didn't," I assured them. "It wasn't anything horrific, it's just embarrassing that I ever went out with someone as sleezy as he was."

Chris glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Well, in that case, you gotta tell us now..."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement and I, rather foolishly, looked at my uncle for support, but all I received was a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. So, against my better judgment and with a sigh of shame and regret, I explained.

"He took me out for drinks on my birthday and invited some woman that he met on Tinder to join us," I informed them. "Apparently, without my knowledge, he'd advertised that we were looking for someone to join us for a threesome that night which was his birthday gift to me."

There was a collective widening of eyes and, after approximately two seconds of stunned silence, a howl of laughter came from my uncle. The rest of the group, however, seemed unsure what to say until Paul spoke up.

"Well, was that was you asked for?"

"No!" I shrieked in protest. "I mean, to each their own, but no! Absolutely not!"

My uncle looked like he was about to cry from laughter as the rest of the group joined in with him. All except for Chris, who was biting back a smile with what seemed to be a considerable amount of effort.

"Guys, c'mon, don't laugh at that!" He scolded them. "That's horrible!"

"Oh, don't feel too bad for her," Robert warned him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "The guy took her to Hooters on their first date and she still agreed to see him again."

It was true and looking back, I had no way to justify such a poor choice. I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a long sip from the gin and tonic in front of me.

"Shut up," I huffed. "He said he just liked the wings there..."

"That's classic," Sebastian smirked. "That's what they all say!"

"Why did you even agree to go out with a man named Trent?" Anthony chimed in. "There's no way someone named Trent isn't going to be a douche bag."

Chris laughed then, throwing his head back as his hand came up to rest on his chest.

"That's true!" He howled and, as embarrassed as I was by the situation, I couldn't help but feel a different kind of flush at the sound of his heartfelt laugh.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Susan chimed in despite the smile on her face as well. "It sounds like poor Whitney has learned her lesson so there's no need to make her feel any worse."

Robert shrugged and gave me a pointed look.

"As long as she promises to make better choices."

I appreciated that he had my best interest at heart, but I rolled my eyes anyway in a show of annoyance.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm swearing off men for a while so there will be no choices made at all, good or bad, for the foreseeable future."

Susan frowned at that information, clearly displeased by my resignation to being alone, but luckily, a distraction arrived at our table and forced a change of subject - a distraction in the form of Jeremy Renner with a very full tray of shots.

Everyone cheered at the sight of him, but my uncle nudged me under the table to draw my attention back towards him.

"This is why I call him the Lord of the Underworld," he warned me. "Be careful..."

"Don't listen to him!" Jeremy insisted, handing out two shots to everyone except my aunt and uncle who weren't drinking. "I just know how to encourage everyone to have a good time."

"Does this group need any encouragement?"

Scarlett's question earned a laugh from the crowd, but Jeremy nodded his head.

"Apparently so or you wouldn't all be sitting in a corner, nursing your first drinks!" He pointed out. "So, drink up!"

He lifted a shot glass in the air and we all copied the action, giving a 'cheers' before tossing back the sharp tequila he'd chosen. The second shot went down almost immediately after and as I felt it burning down my throat, I knew we were in for quite a night.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Chris asked as we stood around a ping pong table with Anthony and Scarlett a bit later in the evening. "Girls against boys?"

"No way, man," Anthony shook his head, putting his arm around Scarlett's shoulders. "I want this one on my team."

"Ouch," Chris smirked. "But whatever, I was just trying to make it fair. If you want to play against the two best players then that's your choice."

"You literally met her today," Scarlett reminded him with a laugh. "How would you know what her ping pong skills are like?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my uncle beat me to it as he chimed in from where he sat at a nearby table.

"She's terrible at almost every sport, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with competitive spirit."

"Terrible is harsh!"

My protest did nothing to reassure Chris though as he shook his head.

"Good thing I have enough skill for the both of us then."

"I have skills!" I insisted. "Let's stop messing around and I'll prove it."

Anthony joined in the laughter at my expense as he bounced the ball on the table.

"Alright, do we all know the rules?" He asked. "The ball has to bounce once on your side of the table before you can hit it back."

"First to ten?" Chris suggested. "We'll let you guys go first."

We all agreed and Anthony bounced the ball again as he prepared to serve. He started off slow and gentle, lobbing it over slowly enough that I returned it with no trouble. However, when Scarlett hit it back, Chris made it clear he was here to play as he hit it with enough force that Scarlett had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.

"Yes!" I cheered, reaching over to high five Chris. "Nice one!"

"Okay, I see how it is," Anthony shook his head as he tossed the ball back to us for our serve. "No holding back now."

Chris smirked as he easily caught the ball. He didn't waste any time before throwing it back with a hard serve, but this time they were ready for it and Anthony hit it back easily. He aimed it at me, which I could only assume was deliberate due to my uncle's doubts of my abilities, but I managed to send it straight back. His surprise at my success was clear as he was unprepared for it to be heading back in his direction and we scored another point.

"Beginners luck!"

Robert's interjection from the sidelines earned him a rude gesture from me, but I knew he was probably right - unless the last couple of drinks had somehow sharpened my reflexes and I seriously doubted that as I was already well on my way past tipsy.

However, the next few rounds showed that my uncle had been wrong and I, apparently, had quite a knack for table tennis. Chris and I worked together like a dream and were absolutely decimating Scarlett and Anthony. The game was almost over as fast as it started, but when we only needed one more point Chris suddenly appeared to give up. He missed shot after shot and we were quickly losing our lead which was making me lose my temper.

"Dammit, Chris," I huffed, trying to suppress my annoyance as he missed a very easy ball. "Get it together over there!"

"Me?!" He gawked. "I thought you were going to get that one!"

"It was clearly on your side!"

"If that's what you think," he started as he picked up the ball and came back to the table. "Then you need to get your eyes tested, sweetheart."

"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I shot back. "Start paying more attention before you make us lose."

"Whatever you say," he smirked at me before adding: "Sweetheart."

I shot him a glare and - without thinking - I swatted his very hard to ignore, perfectly sculpted bum with my paddle. He yelped, catching the ball that he'd just thrown into the air with the intention of serving and stared at me wide-eyed. I was almost as surprised by the action as he was and I opened my mouth to apologize, but I was interrupted before I could.

"Careful there, Whitney," Sebastian warned from where he sat with my uncle at the spectator's table. "That's Marvel property!"

"They're very protective of it too," Anthony joked. "It's one of their best assets."

"Yeah, so show it some respect," Chris demanded, looking cocky despite the slight red tint to his cheeks. "And anyway, if you're trying to get me to focus then I don't think making me think about spanking is a great strategy."

"Ooh," I giggled. "Someone get me the number for TMZ! I've got tomorrow's headline ready for them: 'Chris Evans likes to be spanked'!"

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gently served the ball.

"Who said I like to be the one receiving?"

My mouth went dry when I realized what he was implying and several uncalled fantasies flashed through my brain. With that short little sentence, images filled my mind of him using his large hands for something entirely different to what they were currently doing - something that perhaps involved bending me over his lap. I felt a wave of heat wash over me at that thought as my gaze was drawn to him while I wondered if he was aware of the effect that he had on me. I was so pathetically distracted that I didn't even see the ball coming back towards us until it hit me on the side of my head.

Despite my embarrassing blunder, Chris and I managed to get ourselves together quickly enough to still win the game and our victory was promptly celebrated by another round of drinks.

My aunt and uncle left not long after that as they were eager to get home to their young children, but my uncle couldn't go without a few parting words when I hugged them goodbye.

"Chris is a good man," he informed me. "I'm not sure what his stance is on threesomes, but he wouldn't take you to Hooters on a first date, that's for sure."

I could tell what he was implying, but I questioned him anyway. The only answer I could pull out of him was a teasing wink and Susan ushered him out the door with a roll of her eyes and firm instructions for me to call them soon.

I tried to push his comment from my mind because the thought of a man as handsome, funny and intelligent as Chris Evans even considering the idea of taking me on a date seemed like insanity, but I would have been lying if I said it didn't instill a tiny flicker of hope in me. I was fairly certain that he had been flirting with me so maybe it wasn't entirely as far-fetched as my low self-esteem would have me believe.

I tried not to dwell on his words too much through the rest of the evening, but it was hard to shake the idea from my mind. Especially with how tactile he was with me. Whether it was when we moved on to dancing and he pulled me close, whenever we were walking to the bar and kept his arm draped around my waist or when we eventually settled on a pair of bar stools, sitting close enough that my knees were tucked between his.

That was how we were sat, tucked together at the bar, when I finished another drink and realized that the fuzziness in my head and the weight of my eyelids were telling me that it was time to head home. I wasn't eager for the night to end, I wanted to stay in this little flirtatious bubble as long as possible, but I could feel the alcohol induced fatigue hitting me and I knew I needed to leave before I no longer had the energy.

"How are you getting home?" Chris asked when I announced my departure. "Do you want some company while you wait for a cab?"

"Oh, that's okay," I assured him as I slid off the bar stool I'd been sitting on. "I'm just gonna walk."

"Walk?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where do you live?"

"Only about twenty minutes away," I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

I was being purposely vague, but Chris' questions persisted until I finally confessed what neighbourhood I lived in. Once I did, a worried look clouded his face.

"Really? That's not a great area..."

"It's not that bad!" I insisted. "I mean, I'll definitely move once the photography thing picks up and I would appreciate if you don't tell my uncle, but it's not that bad."

"He doesn't know?" Chris raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could only be interpreted as one of judgment. I nodded in answer to his question and he sighed, tossing back the last of the beer in front of him before standing up as well. "Just let me say goodbye and I'll walk with you."

"No, no, you don't have to do that! Stay with your friends."

"My Ma would kill me if she found out I let a woman walk home alone and I'm guessing Robert would have something to say about it too from what you just said," he insisted, flashing me one of his dazzling smiles. "Besides, I was gonna head out soon anyway."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded in response.

"Absolutely."

I felt bad that he was leaving because of me, but I had a feeling that any arguments would be futile. I followed him around the room, saying goodbye to the few people who were still at the bar before we headed outside. As soon as the fresh air hit me, I really felt the full affects of the several drinks I'd had throughout the night and I was quite grateful for Chris' company on my walk.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry you had to leave early."

Chris had pulled his baseball hat lower on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity a bit more, but the people bustling in the streets were too oblivious or drunk to pay much attention.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled down at me. "It was time for me to go anyway. I've had enough wild nights with Renner to know that nothing good happens after midnight."

"Oh, I see how it is," I smirked. "I thought this was a chivalrous gesture, but it's just an act of self-preservation."

Chris laughed, a deep laugh that made my smirk slide into a grin, as he held out his arm for me to take which I happily did.

"Can't it be both?"

"I suppose. I guess you must be pretty chivalrous to take on a role like Captain America." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up. "Sorry, that was dumb. I sound like some shitty interviewer. Like, 'tell me what aspects of the character you see in yourself'."

I'd put on a bad, faux news anchor voice for the last part of that sentence and I felt Chris' arm shake as he chuckled, but he shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It's a fair question," he assured me. "I think I've always been pretty chivalrous. I'm close with my mom and two sisters so they made sure I knew how to treat a lady. But that is one bonus of playing a character like Cap, he has such strong morals and such a steady sense of right and wrong, it inspires me to be as much like him as I can be."

Just as he finished his thought, I stumbled over an uneven part of the sidewalk and was only saved from face planting by his grip on my arm. I flushed with embarrassment again, but the alcohol in my system had me dissolving into giggles.

"Sorry, thank you. Wow, I'd say you really do have some Captain America traits." I flashed him a smile. "Was it like a lifelong dream for you? If you don't mind me asking, last question about it, I promise."

"You can ask all the questions you want," he shrugged and it seemed genuine, not just an expected assurance. "But no, it wasn't. I actually turned it down several times."

"Really? You did? Isn't a role like that every actor's dream?"

"Probably," he nodded. "But I did the Marvel thing with Fantastic Four and even that little taste of fame was almost too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm so grateful for all the opportunities I've been given, but it can be a lot to deal with."

"Those obsessive fangirls too much for you?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. " I was already having panic attacks, so I wasn't sure that I could handle taking that next step. But it's more just the total lack of privacy that comes with fame. Not just for me either, I knew it would affect my whole family."

"That makes sense," I nodded, knowing from my own experience that he was absolutely right. There'd been a few unfortunate incidents on slow news days where articles about 'Robert Downey Jr.'s niece' had popped up after some of my poorer choices in life. "Are you glad that you went for it now?"

"Absolutely! It was the best thing I've ever done. There are times when I still struggle, I don't do well at the premieres with all the pressure and the people, but the whole cast is like a family so the support is amazing."

"It's really sweet how close you guys all seem to be."

"It makes a big difference," Chris agreed as we turned off the main street in the direction of my neighbourhood. "But what about you? Have you always wanted to be a photographer?"

I paused for a moment as I tried to get my rather tipsy brain to figure out the simplest response to his question.

"Yes and no," I finally answered. "I've always loved photography, but I never really considered it as a career until about two years ago. I actually went to university to study accounting."

"Accounting? Wow, so you're a math wiz?"

"Hardly," I giggled. "It was what my dad wanted me to do to guarantee myself a solid career, but I hated it. I flunked out within a year. I'm not entirely sure that my dad has ever forgiven me for it, he was really disappointed in me."

"But surely he just wants you to be happy, whatever job you have..."

"You would think so," I shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it all the time though. He's very against the whole starving artist thing. He's not a bad person, but he's very practical and just can't understand how suffocating an office job would be for someone who likes to be creative. I get the impression that just being around me these days exasperates him."

I felt another blush cover my cheeks as I realized I was over-sharing. It could easily be blamed on the alcohol, but Chris was a good listener and I found him very easy to talk to.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "That was more information than you probably needed."

"You don't need to apologize so much," Chris assured me. "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want to hear the answer."

"Sor-" I paused. "Bad habit, I guess."

Chris squeezed my arm and shot me a reassuring smile before getting our conversation back on track.

"So, what made you persevere with photography in the end?"

"I just really enjoy doing it. I love capturing those unexpected moments, like the awkward laughter in between poses, the moments when people have their guard down and don't realize how beautiful they look. Then, when I get to share the photos I've taken with people and they see themselves in a different way, the joy it brings them makes it worth any financial struggles." As I finished my explanation, a thought struck me. "I actually got some good ones today, just on my phone when you guys first came in, not doing the planned and posed stuff."

They'd all been so excited to see each other even though it was just a few short weeks since they'd wrapped the film. It was sweet and I hadn't been able to resist capturing their reunion.

"Really? Could I see them?"

"If you give me your phone number, I can send them to you," I smiled up at him. "That would actually be helpful. They're obviously different than the ones I took for the actual shoot, but you can tell me if they're any good or if you think I just got the job because of my connections."

I reached into my bag and handed my phone to Chris so he could type in his number which he did before shooting me a skeptical glance.

"Do you really think your connection to Robert is the only reason you got the job?"

"Well, it was all so last minute. I can't help, but assume it's a mix of desperation and some pulled strings," I admitted. "But I know this is my one shot. Robert really believes in people making their own way in life so if I totally blow this opportunity, I know he won't fight for them to have me back again and I wouldn't want him to."

We turned another corner, taking us just a few blocks from my apartment building as Chris answered.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten you the job if there was any chance that he thought you would fail," Chris assured me. "But he is a good person to have in your corner. I probably wouldn't have taken the Captain America gig at all if it wasn't for him convincing me I could do it. He can be very persuasive."

I smiled at that information. I knew my uncle didn't like to take no for an answer so I could imagine how that conversation went.

"He can be very encouraging when he needs to be," I agreed. "Even if that encouragement sometimes comes out in the form of publicly shaming someone for their taste in men."

Chris let out another deep laugh and shook his head.

"C'mon, you gotta admit you deserved that."

"I did not!"

"He took you to Hooters and you didn't run away as fast as possible," Chris reminded me as if I could have forgotten such an embarrassing decision. "If that's not deserving of some public shaming then I don't know what is."

"Dating is hard these days," I huffed. "Maybe it would be easier if I had giant muscles like you, but it's hard to meet people."

"I think having muscles the size of mine would actually make you less hot."

I couldn't bite back the giggle that slipped from my lips as I looked up at him with a questioning raise of my eyebrows.

"Less hot?" I asked. "That would imply that you think I'm hot now."

"I do," Chris smirked confidently. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words instantly made my cheeks heat up again. I'd baited him into the compliment, but I didn't expect his blunt and honest answer. I was stunned into a momentary silence that only made Chris' smirk grow wider until I giggled once again.

"You're just drunk."

"I am not," Chris chuckled. "Well, maybe a little, but that doesn't change the facts."

There was a grin on my face and I felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Chris Evans just called me gorgeous. Any woman who said they didn't swoon in that situation was probably lying.

"That's very sweet of you to say," I told him, trying to play it cool. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

Chris squeezed my arm again as he flashed me a smile.

My apartment building was in sight now, just half a block away, and I was disappointed that our evening was about to end.

I was comfortable with Chris. He was nice and easy to talk to and I'd had more fun and laughs with him in the last few hours than I'd had throughout most of my last relationship. But despite our harmless flirting, I knew he was too good for me. I knew that I didn't stand a chance with him and that when the alcohol wore off and the sun came up, he would see that. As much as I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I could hardly keep us walking in circles around the block without him noticing so I reluctantly slowed to a stop outside my building.

"This is me..."

Chris looked up and nodded slowly.

"It doesn't look so bad."

"Because it's not!" I insisted. "Honestly, this isn't that bad of a neighbourhood."

"Well, it's not that great either, Whitney."

Another giggle slipped from my lips as I pulled my keys out of my purse, reluctantly slipping my arm from his.

"Your accent makes my name sound funny," I teased. "You don't say Whitney, you say Win-ney."

Chris laughed, but shook his head.

"Now who's drunk."

"Oh, definitely me," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Okay, Winnie, whatever you say."

He said my name wrong on purpose that time, but there was something about it that put a smile on my face. Emboldened by the alcohol and by his flirtatious nature, I decided to take a chance.

"Do you want to come up for a bit?" I asked. "One last drink maybe?"

Chris hesitated, but after a moment of thought, he shook his head.

"Nah, I should probably get home. I think I've had enough drinks for tonight." His solid reasoning eased the blow of rejection slightly, but it still burned me up inside. "Thanks for the invite though, maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time."

"Sure," I nodded, hoping I was masking my disappointment. "That would be nice."

"Great," he grinned before pulling me into a hug. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends."

Friends.

Good friends.

His words echoed in my head as I agreed and slipped out of his grasp. We said our goodbyes, I thanked him for escorting me home and I watched as he walked back down the street before I went inside.

Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.

At least he'd made himself clear and subtly let me down easy before I had chance to form any wrong ideas about what our relationship was or could be. It hurt and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit like a stab in the heart, but I was glad that he'd put me in my place before I made a fool of myself by making a move.

I knew I'd been getting ahead of myself anyway. I knew he was way out of my league, but he'd called me gorgeous and walked me home. He'd even given me a nickname. Maybe I'm just easy to impress, but it felt like he was interested. I guess being a big star in Hollywood requires a certain level of charm though and he was probably just used to being naturally flirtatious with most of the women he encounters.

I sighed as I let myself into my apartment and tossed my bag on the table by the door. I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world only moments earlier and now I was back to feeling like I was a romantic lost cause. I dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for bed and flopped down on top of the blankets - it was too hot to be under them and I didn't have the luxury of air conditioning.

Perhaps it was for the best that Chris declined my invitation to come upstairs, I thought to myself. This apartment was hardly up to Hollywood standards, it was hardly up to my own standards even if it was all that I could afford.

As my head laid on the pillow and my heart sat heavy in my chest, I told myself that it was fine. If Chris wanted to just be friends then I would be grateful that he even wanted that. I made a mental note to send him those pictures in the morning - because I'd promised to and not because I was curious to see what kind of response I would get when he was sober - and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of my new friend.

---

July 2016

And so, we were friends. Good friends, maybe even great friends.

I sent Chris the photos he’d asked for the day after we met and we spent most of that day messaging back and forth. Our friendship only grew from there and, whenever he was in town, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.

But we kept things very much friendly.

There was some flirtatious exchanges, but I respected his wishes and kept the feelings that I'd developed to myself.

My career really took off in the year after we met as well. That first Marvel photo shoot had gone incredibly well which led to several more contracts with them as well as other high profile jobs. It was a long, busy year, but I was grateful and relished in my success.

I'd even managed to move into a new apartment in a much nicer neighbourhood which felt like quite a big achievement and had finally silenced Chris' fretting about my safety. I moved in May, but our busy schedules kept him from seeing my upgraded home for himself until that summer, almost a year after we met. He was returning to L.A. from a trip home to Massachusetts and we hadn't seen each other in months so I was very eager for our reunion. Despite the fact that were still in constant communication, I'd missed him terribly and had been counting down the minutes until he would be arriving at my place.

"So," My friend's voiced echoed through my phone from where it sat on the bathroom counter while I finished curling my hair into beachy waves. "Are you going to finally make a move tonight?"

"No," I scoffed. "Of course not, Hannah. I've not seen him in a while now, I want us to have a good time. I don't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin everything."

"I will bet you a thousand dollars that it wouldn't ruin everything," she insisted. "Honestly, I will give you a thousand dollars if you make a move tonight and it goes badly."

I rolled my eyes as I finished the last curly wave and reached for my hairspray.

"You can't put a price on my friendship with Chris."

"Oh my god," she groaned. "He's told you that he thinks you're gorgeous, he makes time to hang out with you whenever he can and he texts you every single day. He treats you better than any boyfriend you've ever had. How can you think he doesn't have feelings for you?"

I took a moment to spray my hair and give myself one last look over before taking her off speaker and answering the question as I walked towards my kitchen.

"Because he straight up told me that he wants to be friends," I reminded her. "And he's never given me any other signs that he's interested in anything more."

"He doesn't need to give you any signs. When someone looks at you the way that he looks at you that says enough."

"Well, I'm going to need him to say a little more."

Another groan came through the phone as the buzzer to my apartment rang.

"You're impossible."

"I know, I know, and my lack of self-esteem will make me die alone," I said, repeating the words she'd told me a hundred times. "But he's here now, so you're going to have to save your criticisms for another time."

"Just tell him how you feel," she huffed. "I expect a full report in the morning."

The buzzer rang again as I agreed and said my goodbyes to my friend. I took a deep breath and a moment to push Hannah's words from my mind before pressing the button on the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Win, it's me! Let me up."

I pressed the button to unlock the door and felt my lips slide into a cheek aching grin just from the sound of his voice. It had been too long since we'd had a chance to hang out and I was very much looking forward to a nice evening together.

It took him barely a minute to get up to my apartment, knocking twice before letting himself in.

"Hey!" I grinned, rushing towards him as he held his arms open. I threw mine around him as soon as I was close enough and squeezed him tightly. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," he smiled. "Nice place you got here, someone's doing well for themselves."

"Oh, please," I giggled, slipping out of his arms. "I've seen your house, Mr. Evans. This is a dump compared to where you live."

"Nah, this place is great!"

"It's definitely an improvement," I admitted as I led him towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? I bought that beer you like."

"You didn't have to do that. I would have been fine with whatever you have in," he chided me, but I waved him off and assured him it was fine. "What's the plan for tonight anyway?"

I shrugged as I opened the fridge to get a beer out for him and a bottle of wine for myself.

"I don't mind. Do you want to go out for drinks later or just stay here? It is a Saturday so everywhere around here will be packed with women in their early twenties if you'd like your ego stroked a bit."

I was referring to the last time we'd gone out and made the mistake of going to a bar that turned out to be pretty unfriendly to celebrities. A lot of places in L.A. made it easy for celebrities to go under the radar, but the place we'd gone to apparently wasn't one of them. There was a steady stream of beautiful young women trying their luck with Chris all night until we eventually fled and went back to his place just to give him some peace.

Chris laughed, clearly understanding what I was referencing, but he shook his head.

"Honestly? I'd prefer to stay in tonight," he admitted, but a smirk slid onto his face as he very obviously gave me a once over. "But you got all dressed up and it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that on a night in."

"Oh, this old thing?" I glanced down at the short black sundress I was wearing, a blush covering my cheeks from his compliment. "I just put this on in case we did decide to go out, but staying in sounds good to me. I'm well stocked with supplies."

I gestured to the wine and beer on the counter and the few bottles of hard liquor behind them.

"Then we'll stay in?"

"Sure," I nodded as a thought hit me and I gasped with excitement. "Oh, we can sit on my balcony! It over looks the park and I just got a new little couch for it."

"Very fancy," Chris laughed. "You really are doing well for yourself."

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I don’t think Ikea patio furniture is a particularly high aspiration for anyone."

"Don't sell yourself short! You're finally getting recognition for your talent and that's worth celebrating."

I smiled as I led him through the living room and opened the door to my balcony with a flourish. The heat of July in California hit us immediately, but the balcony was shaded which made it a more reasonable temperature.

"This is nice," Chris nodded approvingly. "Well done, Winnie."

He sat on the couch and held his beer up towards me. I gently clinked my glass against it before sitting next to him. I thanked him once I was settled, hiding the width of my grin with my glass as I took a sip.

"So, how was Massachusetts?" I asked, curling my feet underneath me. "Do you have much more time off or are you back at it pretty quick?"

"I've actually got some time off," Chris informed me. "I think I'll probably spend most of it back home. It was great being there the last few weeks. It just feels better than L.A."

"Most places probably feel better than L.A.," I pointed out with a scoff. "This place is exhausting."

"You should come visit some time," Chris suggested before flashing me a smirk. "I feel bad leaving you here when I'm clearly your only friend."

"Excuse me, that is not true!" I protested, my jaw dropping at his insult as he chuckled at his own joke. "I have plenty of friends, thank you very much. All those liquor bottles on the counter are leftover from my very crowded house-warming party."

"Oh, no, Winnie," he laughed, his hand coming up to his chest. "Don't try and provide evidence that you have friends. That makes you seem even more pathetic."

"More pathetic than what? I have friends!"

"Imaginary ones don't count."

I couldn't help, but laugh at that insult as I shook my head.

"You're so rude. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you have no one else." He shot me a very over the top look of pity until I swatted his arm and he dissolved into laughter again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Seriously though, you should come out to Massachusetts sometime. I'll show you around."

"That would be fun," I agreed. "I'm pretty busy with work over the summer, but I think I'm in New York for a shoot in September. I could maybe tie a trip in with that if you're still out there."

"I should be if nothing else comes up," Chris nodded. "And fall is a great time to come. It's gorgeous."

"I bet. It would be nice to experience a season instead of just this sweltering L.A. heat all the time."

I made a face to emphasize my point as I sipped my drink and Chris eyed me suspiciously.

"I can't help, but get the impression that you're not loving it here at the moment..."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Not really. I thought moving into a better apartment would help, but I'm just kinda tired of it, I guess."

"It can be draining here," he nodded. "Have you thought about moving somewhere else?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"Not really. I'd miss my family too much. I'd have to have a good reason, I think, or know someone wherever I was going."

"Well, you'll always know someone in Massachusetts," he smiled. "And my Ma would love you. I'm sure she'd take you in right away."

"Awe, Mama Evans. I'd love to meet her...Mostly so I could demand an apology for her part in raising such a horrible man."

Chris threw his head back with another chest grab worthy laugh.

"Oh man, I know. My brother is pretty awful."

I snorted a laugh at his comeback, but shook my head.

"Scott was delightful the few times I met him," I informed him. "I was clearly talking about you."

"Me?!" He gasped dramatically. "What are you talking about? I'm a total gentleman."

"Imaginary friends don't count," I repeated his words back to him in a very bad impression of his deep voice and Boston accent. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman."

"It's called a joke, Winnie," he teased. "Try having a sense of humour."

I stuck my tongue out at him in response, but I had to admit that the teasing was nice. I really had missed him while he was away and I was relieved that we fell back together so naturally that it was like we'd never been apart.

Our conversation continued to flow well into the night and so did our drinks. A few hours later and several alcoholic beverages down, the temperature was starting to drop a bit as the sun set, but our conversation was just starting to heat up.

"So," Chris turned to me with a smirk as he sipped the tequila sunrise I'd just made for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't like it, that it would be too sweet, but apparently he was too tipsy to really care. "How's your love life these days? Any more trips to Hooters?"

I snorted a laugh as I shook my head.

"I need more alcohol if we're going to delve into my love life."

Mostly because the biggest detriment to my romantic life was currently sitting on the couch with me, but I wasn't going to volunteer that information. Chris nudged the bottom of the glass in my hand, gently enough not to spill any but firmly enough to lift it slightly.

"Drink up then because I'm curious. Especially after a statement like that."

The irony of someone who was very vocal about how much they hated being constantly interrogated and harassed about their love life trying to do that exact thing to me wasn't lost on me, but I knew he'd keep pestering me until I opened up. I did as Chris suggested and took a large swig of my drink before answering him.

"No, there hasn't been any more dates at Hooters lately," I assured him. "But I did go on a date last week that was disappointing in it's own way."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? How so?"

"He turned out to be a Robert Downey Jr. fanboy," I admitted, rolling my eyes as Chris let out a laugh. "It was going well until I made the mistake of mentioning that he's my uncle. He wouldn't shut up about him - stop laughing! - It was awful. Honestly, he went on and on! I eventually asked him if he'd rather be on a date with my uncle than me."

"And what did he say?"

I scowled at the memory.

"He said yes and asked for his number." That admission drew another howl of laughter from Chris and I couldn't help, but giggle along with him despite my shaking head. "Honestly, Chris, it's not funny. I have the worst luck."

"You have the worst taste in men." He corrected and I wondered briefly if he'd be less confident in that statement if he knew that he was my taste, even more so when he continued. "You're only interested in the douchey guys and then you're always shocked when they act like assholes."

"That is so not true!" I protested. "How am I supposed to know they're going to be douche bags? We talk for like two days on a dating app before we meet up and they always seem normal!"

"What was this one's job?"

I cringed and took another big swig of my drink.

"A club promoter."

"Exactly!" Chris groaned. "And hadn't the one before him quit his job to try and get famous on YouTube?"

"Instagram," I corrected. "But, so what? I struggled for a long time before my career went anywhere. You can't judge people by something like that."

"For the most part, I agree with you," Chris nodded. "But there are some careers that only attract a certain kind of person."

I huffed at his logic, but there was some truth to what he was saying.

"Dating is just hard these days," I insisted. "Besides, from what I've seen online lately, you're one to talk about messy relationships."

Now it was Chris' turn to take a gulp of the drink in his hand as he raised an eyebrow at my claim.

"Everything you read about me is bullshit, you know that. I haven't dated anyone lately, people just like to make things up."

"Oh, what I was reading the other day wasn't really about who you were dating."

That got his attention as he shot me a surprised look.

"What was it about then?"

"I thought it was all bullshit?" I smirked. "Does it matter what it was if it's not true?"

Chris shrugged.

"Even if it's not true, I like to know what people are saying about me."

"And you don't have a team to provide you with that information?"

"I do," he nodded. "But they don't tell me everything so I'd love to know what you read."

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy about disclosing what I'd seen. I took a moment to figure out how to say it before telling him.

"I stumbled across an article that claimed an anonymous source, who recently spent the night with you, told them that you are not particularly skilled at going down on a woman."

Chris' jaw dropped and I couldn't help, but laugh again at the outrage on his face.

"That's fuckin' bullshit!" He protested. "Why would anyone believe an anonymous source? It's obviously not true! Why would they even write that?"

I smirked again as I tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside me. Of course, I didn't believe an anonymous source and I felt bad for Chris that mean rumours like that were being spread around the internet, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease him about it anyway.

"I don't know. She must have had some kind of proof, they wouldn't have published it without fact checking."

"They absolutely would!" Chris laughed incredulously. "They publish anything that gets clicks!"

I shrugged and tried to stifle the giggles still fighting to come out.

"It seemed pretty believable to me. I'm not trying to be mean, but maybe just take the criticism and use it to grow."

"I don't need to use it to grow!" He insisted. "I have plenty of skills in that area, I've never had any complaints."

"Until now."

"It's not true!"

"Unfortunately, I'll never know..."

I froze, hearing my words echo through my head as Chris' eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before a twinkle appeared. It was a simple statement, but we both picked up on what it implied, especially with the hint of intrigue, almost challenge, in my voice.

Chris tossed back the last of his drink and then shifted, sitting up a bit straighter as the look of annoyance on his face had changed into something almost cocky. I took a sip of my own drink, hoping to drown the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach as the cool evening breeze suddenly did nothing to ease the heat that surrounded us.

"Well, how am I suppose to prove it to you?"

He moved his hand until it was resting on my knee and I had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. We were fairly affectionate and much more touchy with each other than many friends were, but this felt different. There was a tension between us now and I swallowed hard, not wanting the alcohol in my system to make me misinterpret anything.

"I don't know." I bit my lip as he stared me down, a smirk back on his face now. "Why don't you de-describe it?"

Demonstrate.

Demonstrate was the word that I was looking for, the word that was on the tip of my tongue.

Describe was not quite as flirtatious. It was like I'd just set him some kind of essay assignment. I cringed, but Chris was unfazed as he chuckled and nodded his head.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Where should I start?"

Before I even had time to answer, he began his explanation.

His voice was low as he spoke, sparing no detail. He described every kiss, every touch and every little tease. By the time he was describing how much he liked to watch whoever was he was pleasuring, looking up from where his face was buried to see her orgasm roll through her body, I was almost shamelessly panting. His hand was still on my leg, stroking higher and higher on my thigh and I felt more aroused from his words than I had from the last few sexual encounters that I'd had.

He was watching me when he finished speaking, a smirk on his face and his eyes narrowed in a seductive stare as I took a shaky breath.

It was now or never.

Tossing back the last of my drink, I put my glass on the table. Then, I took the glass in his hand and did the same.

He was watching me the whole time, meeting my eyes as I sat back on the couch. My mind was running a mile a minute as the gravity of the situation hit me, but I tried to push all thoughts of doubt from my head as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes flicked down to watch the movement and that was all the confirmation I needed.

I darted forward fast enough that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and pressed my lips against his.

There was a brief moment when he froze. I felt his hand tense on my thigh and his body seemed more rigid than it had moments ago, but he recovered quickly and a low growl came from his throat before his hands moved to my waist and effortlessly lifted me into his lap.

I gasped at the movement, momentarily taking my lips away from his, but before I could even mumble out any comments on his strength, he'd pressed our lips together again.

It was a sloppy kiss. Spurred on by our mounting tension and the panic bubbling inside me that any minute now he would change his mind and push me away in disgust, our movements were frantic and desperate. My hands slid around his neck, one moving up to the back of his head as if I needed to hold him in place, but his fingers digging into my waist made me think that he was having the same thought.

Eventually though, the need for air forced us apart and I rested my forehead against his as we fought to catch our breath. The pause in our actions gave my brain time to catch up to my body and I immediately felt the nerves kick in.

Logically, I knew we should slow things down and talk about what this meant. My feelings for Chris went deeper than a drunken hook up and I was setting myself up for heartbreak if he wasn't on the same page. However, there was a more impulsive part of my brain that didn't care. I'd wanted this for so long, surely I deserved a chance to just enjoy it.

As if Chris could read my mind, his deep voice cut through my thoughts.

"Are we really doing this?"

I bit my lip, knowing this was the time to voice any concerns that I had, but as I stared into his eyes, I couldn't make myself jeopardize the moment.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm in if you are?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face as he nodded as well.

"I've been waiting almost a whole fuckin' year for this," he admitted. "I'm absolutely in."

I felt my heart flutter at his confession. If he'd been waiting for this as long as I had then that must have meant that we were on the same page. No one waits that long for a meaningless fuck, he would have made a move by now if there wasn't more to it.

In an effort to silence my overactive brain, I pressed my lips back against his which proved to be the perfect distraction. All worries and cares slipped from my mind as his tongue slipped back into my mouth and his hands drifted down to cup my ass. I could practically feel them burning through my thin dress and as they squeezed slightly, pressing my hips closer towards his, I could tell that my panties were already much damper than was probably reasonable.

But the anticipation was practically killing me.

My body felt like it was on fire as every brush of his tongue, every caress of my skin, every sigh that fell from his lips against my mouth, had me writing against him like a cat in heat. Often, when I'd imagined what this moment would be like, I'd assumed it would be slow - we'd take our time and savour every touch - but I hadn't factored in just how desperate we'd both be or how quickly I would be filled with the absolute need for there to be less layers of fabric between us.

Chris sucked in a deep breath as his lips moved from mine, sliding lower to kiss along my jaw. I could feel a bulge growing between us, telling me that he was as overeager as I was so, as shivers tingled down my spine from the trail his mouth was taking, I fought through the distractions to speak.

"Chris," I panted. "Let's go inside."

His lips paused their movement as he nuzzled into my neck.

"Not much of an exhibitionist?"

"Not on the first date."

My words were teasing and a shrug of my shoulders accompanied my response, earning a chuckle from Chris.

"Alright, that's fair."

I nudged his head away from my skin so I could press another soft kiss to his lips.

My intention was to then climb off of his lap and lead him into my apartment, but he had other ideas as his hands slid under my thighs and his grip tightened. With one smooth motion and an impressive show of strength, he stood from the couch and lifted me up with him. I gasped and rushed to wrap my legs around his waist for stability, but the smirk on his face and the bulge of his bicep told me that it probably wasn't necessary. He was incredibly strong and it sent another flush of arousal through me at the thought of the beautifully sculpted physique under his clothes.

"Are you bulking up for Cap again?"

I mumbled the words in an attempt to keep my mind busy and stop myself before I started rubbing myself against his stomach. With the way my legs were positioned there was merely a shirt and my panties between us and it was entirely too tempting.

"Nah, got a month or two before that starts again," he informed me, quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

I pointed him towards the door of my bedroom before answering as I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.

"So, you're like, always this strong?"

Chris chuckled slightly as he kicked my bedroom door open.

"Well, I'm no club promoter," he teased. "But I do tend to stay at a certain level of fitness for when the job does require it."

My jaw dropped at his audacity to bring that up again at a moment like this, but I couldn't stop the snort of laughter that slipped out.

"Shut up," I demanded, letting my thumb stroke against the soft skin on the back of his neck. "Before I come to my senses and ask you to leave."

Now it was Chris' turn to laugh as he gently tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me like a lion stalking it's prey.

"C'mon," he smirked as he hovered over me. "I think we both know that the last thing you want me to do right now is leave."

With that, he pressed his lips back against mine before I had chance to argue. Not that I would have, because he was absolutely right. There was a long list of things I wanted him to do, but leaving was not one of them. In fact, as I let my arms slid over his toned shoulders, I pulled him even closer.

I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to hear every little grunt and moan, I wanted to feel every inch of his body against mine, I wanted to see his muscles quiver and twitch with pleasure, I wanted him inside me and we'd barely even started. A year of waiting would make anyone desperate and, as much as I was revelling in his talented mouth as it moved against my own, I was eager to see what else he could do with it.

Sliding my hands down along his back, I ran them over his waist until they were at the hem of his shirt and, in an attempt to move things along, I slid them back up over his stomach, bringing his shirt with them. I paused, taking a moment to trace over his abs and he chuckled, moving his lips down to nuzzle them into my neck.

"That tickles," he mumbled against my skin as I smiled.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that these muscles are real."

"They are," he smiled up at me. "Are you impressed?"

"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile of my own. "I'll be more impressed if you get these clothes out of the way and let me admire you properly."

He chuckled again, but didn't fight as I pulled his shirt over his head. The light in the room was dim and the way we were positioned didn't give me an optimal view, but what I could see was enough to draw a soft gasp from my lips.

I'd seen him shirtless and in even less from a few sneaky Google searches and watching his old movies, but seeing it all right in front of me was quite a treat. I had to double check that I wasn't drooling at the sight as I openly stared, my mouth slightly agape.

I realized I was probably ogling him a little too long when a faint blush covered his cheeks and he ducked his head back against my neck. He placed another soft kiss against my skin before he spoke.

"Now, it's your turn."

"Okay," I agreed, swallowing hard. "But just keep in mind that I don't look like that."

I ran my hands up and down his sides to emphasize what I was referring to and I felt more than heard him chuckle as he peered up at me once more.

"I'd be disappointed if we had the same upper body," he teased. "I mean, if I'm being honest."

I rolled my eyes despite the smile on my face.

"You know what I mean," I insisted. "I'm not sculpted by the Gods like you are."

His head fell back against my shoulder as he shook with laughter before shaking his head.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured me. "You're too hard on yourself. You're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words took me back to the first night we met as the sincerity in his voice was the same as it had been back then. And there was something about the confidence with which he spoke that had me believing him.

So, as his hands slid under my dress - teasing the outside of my thighs in a way that had me biting my lip to force back a moan - I pushed any negative thoughts or doubts about myself from my mind. I even felt a hint of pride when my dress was discarded, exposing my lack of bra, and making Chris' eyes darken as they scoured over my body.

"Fuck, Winnie," he groaned as he soaked in the sight of my exposed chest. "You're beautiful."

I felt my heart flutter at the genuine awe in his voice and at his word choice. Gorgeous, hot, sexy - those are all compliments I would have loved to receive from him, but beautiful. It seemed deeper, more romantic. There was a brief reminder from the voice in my head that perhaps the importance of such a simple word was a signal I shouldn't be moving forward with this without having a very serious conversation about feelings first, but I was quick to ignore it as I pulled Chris back to my lips.

It seemed he was as desperate to move things along as I was though as his mouth didn't linger against mine for very long before it was trailing a path down my neck. He paused when he got to my chest, letting out a groan as he nuzzled the skin before sucking it just hard enough to leave a faint mark when he moved back. The sight had me squirming beneath him and he shot me a smirk before moving his lips to my nipple.

Gasping at the sensation, I arched up towards him as he continued to nip and tease me. If his current actions were anything to go by then whoever wrote the article that I read was very sorely mistaken. He appeared to be incredibly talented with his mouth and by the time he moved away from my nipple to continue his path down my body, my chest was heaving and I was sure that I was just one gentle touch away from my peak.

However, I was disappointed when he got to the top of my panties and, after licking along the skin of my lower stomach, pushed himself up and moved off of me to stand at the foot of my bed. I whined in protest, wanting him as close to me as possible, but all I got was a smirk in response.

"Patience," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans.

I wanted to pout, to argue that I'd been patient enough in the last year, but any complaints died on my tongue as he pushed his jeans to the floor. As he stood in front of me, only in his underwear, my sense of urgency was replaced by an appreciation for the chance to admire his chiselled body. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better view and he chuckled at the look of wonder that I was sure was on my face.

His underwear was the next thing to go and the anticipation turned quickly to shock as my jaw dropped at what he revealed. I could have assumed from the large bulge that he was quite well-endowed, but seeing it confirmed sent a whole new flush of arousal through me. I mumbled out a 'wow' as I bit my lip and tried to take it all in - he truly was a gorgeous man.

"Like what you see?"

His question snapped me out of my daze as he knelt back down on the end of the bed.

"Very much so," I nodded, desperate to feel his body over mine once again. "Come back up here."

"No," Chris grinned as he ducked down to place a kiss on my ankle. "Not yet."

Again, part of me wanted to argue and demand that he return his mouth to mine and get things moving, but before I could even open my mouth, he made his intentions clear - by tracing his fingers up my leg with his lips close behind.

I was quivering under his touch, still leaning up on my elbows when he reached the edge of the panties I was wearing. He glanced up at me as he licked along the lace before he bit into the material and tugged. I lifted my hips to ease his struggle as he yanked my panties down my legs with his teeth. The sight of it had me squeezing my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction, but as soon as my underwear joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, he was quick to pull my legs apart again.

"Keep 'em open for me," he demanded, that damn smirk still firmly on his face. "I've got something to prove."

I giggled at that statement, but did as he asked. I was still watching his movements, until he dipped his head forehead and pressed his lips against me. That first moment of contact was enough to have my head flopping back against the pillows as my hands shot down to grip his hair. I was vaguely aware of him mumbling something about how wet I was, but my brain was too busy trying to process the pleasure he was giving me to take in his words.

He wasted no time demonstrating everything that he'd described to me earlier that night. His tongue was focused and precise in its movements and, contrary to what I read, he clearly knew what he was doing as he easily narrowed in on my clit. It wasn't enough though. I needed more pressure, more friction, and I pushed up towards him with a moan on my lips to urge him on. He wasn't having any of that as his hands looped under my thighs to settle on my hips, holding me in place, but he increased the pressure as he apparently understood what I needed despite my lack of ability to verbalize it.

I immediately felt a familiar feeling starting to build.

He sucked and licked with an urgency that I very much appreciated, flicking his tongue in just the right spot at just the right speed to have me trembling beneath him. I managed to gasp out a warning 'oh god' as my hands gripped his hair even tighter and I fell apart into a puddle of whimpers and moans. My orgasm hit me more fiercely than I'd imagined in my wildest fantasies of this moment and I arched up against him, his name pouring from my lips like a chant as he continued his efforts with a low groan of his own only adding to my pleasure.

As my breathing started to slow, Chris gently ceased his movements and moved his head back before resting his chin on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me.

"Well?"

"I'm going to write my own article," I told him, feeling that wonderful post peak bliss wash over me. "Because someone was obviously very misinformed."

Chris chuckled before pulling his hands from my hips to plant them on the bed and drag himself back over me.

"I'm glad I exceeded expectations."

"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement as his lips hovered above mine. "Now, let's see what else you can do."

Chris flashed me a smile and kissed me briefly before leaning back just enough to reach down and take his cock in his hand. Another moan fell from my lips as he rubbed it against me for a moment before nudging against my entrance and finally pressing inside. He moved slowly, but even so, I winced at the sensation. The slight burn as I stretched around him felt good but there was an undeniable ache as well. Sensing my hesitation, Chris paused and dropped his head for another soft kiss. I waited a moment, until the initial spark of discomfort had passed before pressing my hips up towards him.

He took the hint and continued his slow, almost torturous, movement until he was fully inside. The burning pain returned as it felt like he was taking up every inch of space I had to offer, but it felt incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed against my neck where his head had settled again. "You're tight..."

He shifted his hips pulling another gasp from my lips.

"Only because you're huge."

I felt a puff of laughter before he nipped at my shoulder.

"Thank you."

I would have smacked him for his cocky tone, but he moved then and suddenly my mind was blank of anything other than how good it felt. His movements were slow at first, every thrust dragging every inch of him against every nerve inside me, but his restraint quickly waned as his pace increased.

I let out a moan as my head fell back against the pillows and I hitched my leg higher on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of my thigh to hold it in place as he built a steady rhythm that had us both panting as I fought to match his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his short beard rubbed against my skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was like he was completely encompassing me, smothering all of my senses and I could feel the pressure building again in the pit of my stomach in a way that it all felt like too much, but not enough all at the same time. I clenched around him, earning a groan of approval from Chris as I swore I could feel him twitch inside me. The pleasure was building quickly and his thrusts got sloppier and more frantic until suddenly he pulled out of me completely.

I felt empty and immediately wanted him back inside of me, my disappointment only growing as he pushed himself up to kneel back on his heels. The only compensation was how good he looked, muscles tight and his cock hard, practically throbbing and shiny from my being drenched in my wetness.

"Turn over," he instructed, his raspy voice bringing me back to the task at hand.

It took a moment for me to process his words, but I giggled as soon as I did.

"What?" He asked, a smile on his face.

"Nothing," I laughed again as I pushed myself up to do as he asked. "You just really are 'clearly' an ass man."

A look of realization crossed his face as he cringed slightly, his hand pausing from where he had reached down to stroke himself. I settled on my knees with my back to him as he answered.

"You heard about that?"

He was referring to the comments that he made on Anna Faris' podcast and I nodded my head.

"Everyone heard about that," I teased.

He chuckled, but didn't deny it as I leaned forward to rest on my hands. The wetness between my legs felt cool from the air in the room and I suddenly felt very exposed, knowing what the view must look like from his position. Again, my worries were brief though as his hands settled on my ass, kneading and squeezing as he let out a low groan.

"With an ass like this though, can you blame me?" He asked, sliding the fingers of one hand down towards the part of me that was practically throbbing with need. My head fell forward as he gently brushed over my clit before sinking two fingers inside me. It wasn't enough, not after the stretch of his cock, but he moved them with almost criminal precision against a spot that made me tense as I moaned with pleasure. "You've been drivin' me wild ever since that night we met. Those black jeans were so tight, it was like you were poured into 'em."

His words were muttered low and quiet and as much as I appreciated the compliment, I was such a puddle of mush from the movement of his fingers that I couldn't string together a sentence in response. He kept talking, whispering words of encouragement and adoration and it only added to my pleasure, but it wasn't until his thumb pressed against my clit that I felt myself start to bubble over. With a cry that I hoped served as a warning of my impending climax, I arched my back to press myself further towards him.

"Atta girl, Winnie..."

His breath was hot against the cheek of my ass and he continued his actions, placing a soft kiss on my skin. I was close, so close, but just not quite there until he did something that surprised me and sank his teeth into the spot his mouth was resting on. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to leave a mark and it was definitely enough to send me over the edge. Moaning out his name again as I pressed back towards him, I felt myself quivering around his fingers as the pleasure tore through my body.

My elbows were quaking with effort as they tried to hold me up while he kept his fingers gently working until my orgasm came to an end. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but I knew I wanted him inside me again so I shot him a look over my shoulder.

"Chris," I panted. "Fuck me, please."

His eyes darkened at my request, but he wasted no time, quickly shifting until he was positioned behind me and sliding himself back inside. He felt even bigger in our new position and his need was made clear as his hands settled on my hips to use them as leverage, thrusting into me at a much more frantic pace than he had before.

The stretch and feel of him deep inside me had me moaning and arching my back once again, but I was doubtful that I would reach another peak - until Chris slid one of his hands from my hip, over my stomach and back down to my clit. The sensation combined with his movements and all the noises pouring from his mouth had a tightness in my stomach forming again with shocking speed. It was just shy of overwhelming as my two previous orgasms had left me feeling rather sensitive already, but when Chris picked up the pace even more, his grunts and groans getting more desperate, I leaned into the sensation. It only took a minute or two more before he finally pressed himself deep inside me, stilling as he let out a low moan and I followed him over the edge once more.

After a few final thrusts through his release, Chris leaned forward to press his chest against my back. I could feel how hard he was breathing and soaked in the moment of bliss until my arms finally gave out underneath me. We landed in a heap face down on the bed, but Chris quickly rolled off of me before pulling me tight against his side.

"Wow," he breathed out. "Winnie, that was...wow."

I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.

"It was," I agreed. "I take back any doubts about your abilities."

He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Thanks," he smiled as I peered up at him until he let a yawn slip out. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"

His question made my own smile widen even more.

"Of course not!"

He breathed out a sigh of relief at my words as I felt a wave of reassurance myself. He wanted to stay. He wasn't about to rush out the door the moment we were done and I filed that information away as more evidence that we were on the same page.

I felt like I should get up - to use the bathroom and offer my guest some water - but our activities had my whole body feeling like jelly. I was vaguely aware of a mumbled 'goodnight' from Chris, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before I could even respond.

The next morning as I slowly woke up, it took me a moment to remember why I was naked and why there was a pleasant, but very noticeable ache between my thighs. As the memory came back to me, a smile slid onto my face, but when I rolled over to find the bed empty, a flicker of worry sparked in the pit of my stomach. Especially when a glance at the clock told me that it was only seven in the morning. We couldn't have fallen asleep much before one so there was no good reason for him to be out of bed already.

I called out his name, hopeful that he would respond, but I wasn't entirely surprised when he didn't. The dread I was feeling intensified at the silence around me and I dragged myself out of bed with the intention of checking if he was in the bathroom or perhaps back out on the balcony. However, the sight of what was on the floor, or more accurately what wasn’t on the floor, made me pause. My dress and panties were laying where they'd been tossed, but his clothes were no where to be seen.

Trying to keep a level head, I quickly pulled on the oversized shirt that I usually slept in and ventured out of my bedroom, but my fears were quickly confirmed. My apartment was empty.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I desperately tried to rationalize his disappearance. Maybe he woke up early and went out to get us breakfast and coffee? The dull throbbing in my head told me that I could certainly use a good shot of caffeine and it was a pretty safe bet that he was feeling the same. But, when he didn't return after half an hour, I assumed that theory was just an optimistic wish.

After forty-five minutes of sitting on my couch, watching the door - willing it to open and for Chris to appear - I sent him a text. I tried to keep it low key and chill, but after another hour of staring at my phone, the words "Hey, where'd you go?" started to seem more and more desperate.

By ten o'clock with no response and no sign of Chris returning, I accepted the situation for what it was.

He wasn't coming back.

It was a drunken mistake that he clearly regretted.

We'd risked our entire relationship for one night of wonderful, incredible, but meaningless sex and he didn't even have the guts to stick around long enough to talk to me about it.

One stupid night and I'd lost one of my best friends.

The thought brought tears to my eyes and, before I could stop myself, I was blubbering like a baby as I curled up on my couch. I was devastated and heartbroken. I'd let myself believe that maybe he wanted me the same way that I wanted him because we were so close and I never would have imagined that he would let it go that far just to ditch me in the morning without even a goodbye. Surely, after a year of such strong friendship, I deserved more than that.

But no matter how stupid and naive I felt in that moment, nothing would compare to the level of utter foolishness I felt later that day when I was tiding up and realized that there wasn't a condom in sight.

Part Two

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces

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

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haus-seeblick · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 2: No Vacancy

Title: Backroad Romance

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,119

Tags: First Kiss, Dean Winchester and Castiel are Alone in the Dark, Mild Angst With a Happy Ending, Sam Ships It, Making out in the Impala

On AO3 Here

“You’re shittin’ me, Sammy.” Dean groans and smacks the steering wheel with his palm. “There’s no room in the whole place?”

Sam’s voice floats into the Impala, high and tinny over the burner phone’s speakers. “No vacancy, Dean, I’m sorry, I checked with them three times--”

“--Nah, nah, it’s cool, we believe you,” Dean interrupts, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear so he can rub his face while steering around a bend. Cas reaches over and deftly slips the phone away, fingers pinched like he’s removing a block from a Jenga tower.

“Did you and Eileen find accommodations?” Cas asks, holding the phone out in front of him so Dean can listen in.

There’s a short pause, then: “Yeah… yeah, we did, but guys, the room is really small, like, a closet, I swear, and there’s only one bed, and--”

This time it’s Cas who interrupts. “--and you wish to engage in private romantic activities. Dean and I completely understand.”

They’re on a straight stretch of highway, but Dean still manages to swerve clumsily into the shoulder. He hastily course-corrects and bites down the urge to snap at Cas for-- for what? For talking like that? For using his deep, rough voice to say any words even vaguely related to--

No. It’s not Cas’ fault that everything he does steadily turns Dean into more and more of a creep. Dean shakes his head firmly and tunes back in to the conversation just in time to catch Sam awkwardly stumbling over his reply. Dean leans over, cutting him off with a whistle into the phone.

“We’ll be fine, little brother. Be a gentleman. Don’t hog the sheets. Girl like Eileen doesn’t come around every day.”

He can feel the bitchface radiating through the speaker and motions at Cas to hang up. Cas frowns and gravely says “Dean would like to end the conversation. Goodbye, Sam,” before flipping the phone shut. He drops it into the cupholder.

Dean makes a show of focusing on the road to avoid looking at Cas. He knows Cas is staring at him; it’s just something the guy does, sitting in the passenger seat and gazing at Dean as if the whole world isn’t flashing by outside.

Dean’s long stopped commenting on it. Let the dude stare.

He clears his throat. “We’ll probably have to find a logging road or something. Pull in and hole up for the night.”

“All right,” Cas replies. He opens the glovebox and pulls out the local map they picked up this afternoon when they rolled into Matlock, Washington, to investigate a haunted post office. It was a gray, dinky, bleak town and the poor ghost lurking around the mailroom seemed more melancholy than anything. She allowed them to dispatch her into the afterlife with very little struggle; that is, after some creative sweet-talking by Sam.

Eileen had teased Sam mercilessly about it before Dean had even gotten a chance. That’s how Dean knows she’s The One.

There was, of course, no motel in town. Sam and Eileen hit the road before Dean and Cas, because Dean insisted on getting a burger for dinner at the tiny diner on Main Street (a mistake). Now he’s staring down the barrel of a night alone with Cas, in cramped quarters, on a dark backroad. If they hadn’t already driven all day to get to Matlock, Dean would push on until they found a motel with vacancies, but he’s exhausted and Cas is just human enough these days to actually be tired too.

“There’s an access road nearby,” Cas says, tracing the map with his index finger. “In a quarter mile. Left.”

Dean follows his directions and sure enough, there’s a bumpy logging road branching off from the highway, stretching deep into the pitch-black trees. Dean pulls in about five hundred feet before turning off the lights and the ignition.

It’s silent. The darkness is all-encompassing, pressing in on Dean, so heavy it’s like he can feel it on his eyelids when he blinks. He takes a slightly shaky breath. Cas is utterly still, as usual, not a single rustle or exhale indicating his presence in the gloom, but Dean feels him there as intensely as he’d feel a roaring bonfire. His heart thuds in his ears.

Why is he freaking out? He’s slept in the car with Sam a million times. But even as he thinks that, he knows, he knows, that this is different. His brain starts whirling through logistics -- who’s gonna take the back seat? Is Cas even gonna sleep the whole night? Or will he wake up and just sit there, staring at Dean for hours, inches away?

Dean needs to shut off his brain. He taps the seat and says “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean,” comes the immediate response, measured and reassuring. “Would you like to talk?”

Relaxing against the seat and slinging an arm over the backrest, Dean peers over to the passenger side. “Sure.”

The moon’s out tonight, far above the trees, and the grayscale of nighttime slowly bleeds into view as Dean’s eyes adjust. He can just make out the sharp angle of Cas’ nose, the slope of his chest and the outline of his hands folded in his lap. He’s always so upright, so proper. Dean wonders what it would feel like to undo him.

“Are Sam and Eileen having sex?”

Dean chokes on air. Sputtering, he braces himself on the seat and coughs until his eyes stop watering. “What?” he wheezes. “Why-- Dude, why would you ask that?”

He sees Cas turn his head to regard him. Even in the dark, Dean can imagine the piercing gaze.

“It was unclear to me what you meant by ‘be a gentleman.’” Cas lifts his hands to shape the finger quotes. “I assumed the two of them would take advantage of their privacy to engage in physical intimacy. Was your comment meant to discourage Sam from having sex?”

Dean throws up his hands desperately. “Okay-- okay, first of all, quit talking about my brother doing it. And second, no, I wasn’t ‘discouraging’ him, just reminding him to treat Eileen like a lady. You know, romance her a little.”

The darkness is a godsend as Dean’s cheeks flush hotter with every word. He’s surprised they’re not glowing. He taps the seat in a random pattern as Cas sits quietly, seemingly digesting the information.

When he responds, it’s slow and thoughtful. “In the pornography I’ve watched, the participants always begin undressing one another rather quickly. And in my own experiences, there has been very little that I would label ‘romantic.’ What is classified as ‘romance,’ Dean?”

Well, shit. The last of Dean’s composure evaporates, sizzles away like a drop of water meeting his burning face. He drops his head into his hands and groans.

Cas leans forward, his knee brushing Dean’s. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asks, voice laden with concern.

Dean’s throat is tight, his fingers sweaty against his forehead. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to at least open his eyes against the shadow of his palms. “Uh-- no. No, Cas. You, uh-- you should be able to ask that kinda stuff. Human stuff. I get that it’s, uh-- it’s important to know. For, y’know. So you can--”

There’s a hand on his knee. A warm, strong hand. Long fingers. Weighty. Dean’s heart kicks into overdrive. He slowly, very slowly, lowers his hands to peek at Cas.

“How do you like to be romanced, Dean?”

There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing in Dean’s brain. It’s a chamber of silence. A void. He stares at the outline of Cas’ wild hair, mouth slightly open.

“...Dean?” The hand on his knee shifts slightly and Dean’s blank brain runs zero interference as his own hand darts out and stills the one threatening to leave his leg. As soon as his skin makes contact with Cas’, though, everything zings back online in a rushing roar.

Play it off, Winchester. Crack a joke. C’mon. “Hah, funny, buddy, you really got me there--”

“--Kissing’s nice.”

He snaps his mouth shut too late. The words float away, unrecoverable.

Cas tilts his head. Then, slowly, very slowly, as if he’s afraid of spooking Dean, he turns his hand around under Dean’s so that they’re palm to palm. An invitation.

With a pounding heart, Dean accepts it. He laces their fingers together. His palm feels even sweatier when it’s rubbing up against Cas’ dry, smooth skin.

Sexy, Dean. Way to go.

Somehow, even though it was Cas asking the questions, he’s the one leading now, shifting closer, laying his left arm along the backrest behind Dean’s shoulders. Their faces are so close that they’re sharing air, just two shadows suspended in a frozen moment.

“May I kiss you?” Cas murmurs gently, his breath washing over Dean’s lips. It smells like rain-refreshed air, like a promise of sunshine, alleviating the weight of the darkness. Dean tentatively chases it with his tongue, wetting his lips and leaving them parted.

“Yeah,” he whispers back. Because fuck, he wants this. He’s wanted this for so long.

And Cas wants it, too.

Dean always imagined that his first kiss with Cas would be an inferno, fireworks, showering sparks, all those cliches. That it would yank him from his body and send him floating through the ether.

It’s not like any of that. It’s better. It’s real.

Cas’ lips are just lips -- a little more chapped than Dean’s used to, perhaps, but they meet his in a familiar brush, followed by the typical tentative press, leading into a hesitant swipe of the tongue.

He’s kissing Cas. Cas, who he’s built up in his head for so long as this untouchable, impossible ideal, who stormed Hell to drag him out, who smote demons with his bare hands, who is so inconceivably old that Dean should be just a speck of sand under his eternal gaze.

Instead, that same Cas is busy dragging his fingers down the side of Dean’s neck. A crest of goosebumps follow, shivers trailing down Dean’s torso, and he gasps a quivery breath against Cas’ lips. He’s not used to being led. Normally he’s the one in charge, giving as good as he gets, focused on hitting the highlights, satisfying his partner. There’s a whole formula.

He’s never trembled like this before.

“Dean,” Cas whispers against his mouth, reverent, his voice somehow gravelly even as a breath. He suddenly pulls his hand free from Dean’s and grips his bicep, dropping his other arm from the backrest to wrap around Dean’s waist. Without preamble, he twists, tugging Dean across his lap. Dean yelps and hurriedly adjusts his legs, ending up with his knees on the seat, straddling Cas’ thighs. His fingers and toes are zinging in excitement.

Goddamn. Who knew being manhandled would do it for him?

The crown of his head presses against the roof of the car and he slouches forward until their foreheads are touching. He pushes his hands into Cas’ hair.

Cas surges forward again, nudging Dean’s head to the side and pressing his lips to Dean’s neck. Dean groans, low and shaky, as Cas parts his lips and sucks a trail up to Dean’s earlobe, his tongue soothing in the wake of his mouth, dragging over every mark that he coaxes to the surface. Dean knows his neck will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he finds he can’t bring himself to care, not when Cas’ teeth are busy grazing the shell of his ear.

“Jeez, Cas,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to Cas’ shoulder. He's hard already, hips twitching a little, but he keeps his hands firmly in Cas’ hair, tugging the soft, thick strands, guiding Cas’ mouth back down to his neck. His pulse hammers under each press of chapped lips.

He pulls back and captures Cas’ mouth again, sliding his tongue into that wet heat. They trade open-mouthed kisses, a bit sloppy, while Cas’ hands glide up Dean’s back under his flannel. Dean’s absolutely flying, his pounding heart easily winning the battle against the tiny voice in his head dredging up reasons to stop, reasons to run.

He wants to stay .

Their kisses have escalated to a panting, frenzied give-and-take, and Dean’s tired of hunching over. He drops his hands onto Cas’ shoulders and starts leaning back over to the driver’s seat, trying to pull Cas on top of him. Cas whines when their lips separate, but he catches on quickly. A little too quickly. He grips Dean’s waist and shifts him along the bench seat with such force that Dean’s arm goes flying and his elbow smacks right into the middle of the steering wheel.

The horn blares, rending the night.

Both Dean and Cas jerk upright, instantly on high alert. Reality takes a moment to catch up with them.

Cas recovers first. “That startled me,” he says, voice wrecked.

Dean lets out a long breath. He’s still got one leg up on the seat, the other one cramped awkwardly next to the steering wheel. He drags a hand across his face and lets out a breathy laugh. The next thing he knows, he’s doubled over, laughing so hard his cheeks hurt and his eyes water.

He’s just so goddamn happy.

Cas watches him, head tilted in the shadows. Dean lets his laughter run its course, petering out with a sigh of mirth and hand slapped on Cas’ knee.

“What a night, huh?” he says.

Cas lifts a hand and strokes Dean’s cheek with his knuckles. Even after all that making out, this one gesture seems inordinately intimate. But Dean just smiles.

Cas swipes his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone one more time before slowly, almost reluctantly, letting his hand fall. “You need to sleep.”

Dean nods and glances into the backseat. “You do too, don’t you? At least a bit? Maybe we can both fit back there.”

They get out of the car -- the cool night air rushes into Dean’s lungs and fizzes through his chest, bringing the events of the past half hour into blood-rich focus in his brain. He steels himself for the freakout, for the doubt and the deflection, but it doesn’t come. He feels right.

They crawl into the backseat, awkwardly shuffling and shifting, ending up with Cas sitting mostly upright (insisting that he’s fine) and Dean laid out on the seat with his head in Cas’ lap.

He drops off to sleep faster than he has a long time, Cas’ long fingers carding through his hair.

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

It’s the light that wakes him, pale gray seeping under his lashes and rousing him from a blissfully dreamless sleep. He lifts his head and immediately winces -- his neck is stiff as a board and his back aches all the way down to his tailbone. He’s really getting too old to be sleeping in the car.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean twists around and peers blearily up at Cas, who’s gazing down at him with one of his rare enigmatic smiles. Dean yawns and stretches as best he can, his back popping. He pushes himself up until he’s sitting next to Cas.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Cas leans over and, before Dean can react, presses a warm, dry kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Sore body or not, this is the best morning of Dean’s life.

They extract themselves from the backseat and stumble into the damp early-morning air. Dean pops the collar of his flannel after a single glance into the side mirror. He’s got a lot of hickies.

They take a second to stretch (Dean admires the way Cas’ pecs shift under his dress shirt as he reaches for the sky) before sliding into the front seat. Dean backs them out of the logging road, the verdant green pines on either side nearly overwhelming his night-accustomed eyes.

Cas calls Sam as they roar down the highway again. It’s only 5 a.m., but Dean handed Cas the phone and told him to give Sam a wakeup call. The kid deserves it after a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

They pull into the parking lot of the Cedar Crest Motel just past 5:30. Dean ends up having to park on the street, though, because the lot’s at capacity, not a single spot unoccupied. He pats Baby in apology as he leaves her, and he and Cas make their way to the room number that a very irritated, cranky Sam snapped at them over the phone.

They’ve almost reached it when Dean suddenly stops dead. He grabs Cas’ arm. Cas shoots him a questioning glance.

“Look." Dean points up at the motel sign. There, huge red letters, blinking through the pale morning light, spell out a clear VACANCY.

“It’s hardly been six hours," Dean says. "No one would’ve checked out in the middle of the night.”

Suspicion rising rapidly, he strides to Sam’s door and knocks as obnoxiously as he can. As soon as the door creaks open, he reaches through and grabs Sam’s shirt, yanking him outside. Sam protests and slaps at Dean with one hand, shoving his bird’s nest hair out of his face with the other.

“What the hell, Dean!”

Dean just throws one arm up at the sign, staring at Sam with raised eyebrows. As soon as Sam sees what he’s pointing at, he shrinks into what Dean immediately recognizes as guilty little brother posture. He’s not even trying to hide it.

Sam clears his throat awkwardly, eyes darting between Dean and Sam, before holding out a placating hand. “I just-- I just thought, maybe you could use some time alone,” he explains hastily, backing up a bit into the room. “If we all ended up here, Dean, you’d insist that we share, you know you would.”

Dean knows Sam’s right (he’s careful with their fake money, so sue him), but he keeps glaring regardless.

“I just wanted some time with Eileen,” Sam mumbles, deflating a bit. “And I thought, y’know, with how you and Cas have been acting lately, that you’d-- uh, that you’d want some time together, too.”

Dean sputters. “Acting? We-- what--”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas says, deep voice cutting off Dean’s protests. “We had a very pleasant night.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he straightens up, a knowing grin stretching over his face. His eyes dart to Dean’s popped collar. “Oh yeah? Did you now?”

Dean shoves him into the room and slams the door shut. There. He turns to Cas, who looks amused.

“Give me at least a couple days before blabbing to my brother,” Dean says, but he finds himself smiling. Cas nods. He reaches out and takes Dean’s hand, just for a moment, squeezing before letting it fall again.

“Of course, Dean.”

#suptober21 #no vacancy #gotta love some cramped car kissing #scheming sam strikes again #destiel fanfic

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