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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {12}

Chris Evans x Reader Series

Warning: Lots of Cursing, Plot, Angst, Slow Burn, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 6.2k

Note: Okay, so this ask/request came in and I was all prepped to write it as a one shot, but I had so many separate ideas that sprang to mind for it and from it. As of right now, I am going to play this one by ear. Hell, I might just keep writing it as long as we’re all in our quarantine/self-isolation. So, it might be one part every week, or I might change it. I honestly have no idea, so let’s start with calling it a mini-series and see where it goes. Thank you anon for the request, hope it’s cool I tweak, twist and stretch this out.

I hope you guys enjoy this. Thank you for reading as always!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive & Pic Heavy***

Previous Chapters: Q1 | Q2 | Q3 | Q4 | Q5 | Q6 | Q7 | Q8 | Q9 | Q10 | Q11 |

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-Quarantine: Day 54-

-Chris-

He’d thought about kissing you for years. He’d had countless dreams about it and umpteen daydream about how it would happen, how it would feel, and a slew of other things. In three years, the thoughts were always different. He never imagined it would have gone the way that it had. He expected something accidental, or even awkward like a stupid caught under mistletoe thing or even the midnight new year’s kiss you’re suckered into because you’re standing close. That was not what happened. From the day when he’d admitted to you being a temptation, he’d been overcome with the desire to kiss you. The day at his hideaway, that desire had turned into a need. It was now three days later, but he could still taste your lips. Still.

Groaning, he rubbed his face and walked over to his window. He had to find a way to get a grip. He felt out of control like he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t see you, talk to you, touch you, kiss you, making love to you. With that thought, he hit his forehead into the window and groaned.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

The coolness of the glass was only a slight relief until he opened his eyes and saw you sitting beside the pool in yet another sexy bikini. Slowly he looked along your legs that were glistening with what he suspected was coconut oil. You smelled like the stuff every time he was around you, coconut oil and every tropical fruit known to planet Earth. He loved it more and more with each passing day. You smelled good enough to eat, and he’d thought about several ways he’d like to devour you.

“Get a fucking grip, man!”

When he was about to walk away, you changed positions. He watched as you got onto your knees and peeled off your cover-up to then flip over and bend over, giving him the perfect view of your ass. He felt his face press against the glass, and all he had to do was stick his tongue out to look like the horndog he felt like he was. He always knew you had the perfect ass, but now looking at it practically in all its glory, he realized he didn’t know shit. You had curves his palms were itching to explore. You bent over to the table near your lounge chair and picked up a glass then brought it to your lips. He couldn’t look away. He literally had to forcibly pull himself from the window. Temptation was a horrible thing, a dangerous thing.

It was temptation he’d battled over the last three days. It was a battle that fluctuated every hour. One hour he was winning the war, and the next, he was the weakest man in the world and damn ready to kick down the guesthouse door and burying his face between those sinful thighs. He literally had to force his mind onto other things. It was hard three days ago, and it was hard today.

For the last few hours, he’d been trying to make plans in a world that was shut down. Businesses were closed, venues closed, restaurants closed, everything had come to a standstill. That meant he had to get creative. He went through the plan in his head one more time and took up the freshly sealed envelope as he walked to his door. He’d missed this morning’s breakfast on purpose. He knew that if he faced you so soon after last night, every single thing he was feeling would be painted across his face. He also knew that if he came face to face with his family, then he’d go round and round the situation yet again.

When he got in from walking you back to the guesthouse, he was restless. He couldn’t sit still. After a shower, he still hadn’t exhausted himself. He was wide awake and wanted to do a lot more than go to sleep. From the light on in the guesthouse, he suspected it was the same with you. Every time he laid down and tried to close his eyes, they popped right back open. He went around the last few hours with you, then the last weeks since quarantine began, and he even went as far back as the entire three years he’d known you.

His first instinct was not to waste any more time and plan that date for the next day, but by the time the sun came up, and he’d gone two miles more than he usually would have, he was in his head. He came up with countless reasons to nip things in the bud.

It began with you being too young for him. He was two weeks away from being thirty-nine, and you’d just gotten to thirty. He never saw himself doing the whole older man/younger woman thing. The two of you were at different stages in life. He’d made a promise, an important one. He never went back on promises he made; he was always as good as his word. That was just the kind of man he was. You had a type, and it was one he didn’t fit the criteria for. The two of you led and lived two completely different lives.

This went on all day, for three days straight. The day would begin with him going through countless reasons to end things before they began, or he crossed a line, and by the end of the day, he was right back to where he began, wanting to cross all the lines. He stayed at his hideaway knowing that you wouldn’t show up there again without the okay, and it was a fact he took comfort in. He ate there, slept there, and kept to himself for the most part. When he went back to the main house, it was to make sure you didn’t take his absence in the wrong way and to make sure he didn’t take ten steps back in the progress that was made.

Every time he saw you, it didn’t take long for your eyes to meet. Once they did, it was the most intense experience. It always felt like your mental brainwaves reached out for one another, and when they synced, it was better than every connection he’d ever thought he had. It was an indescribable feeling but one that reverberated throughout him. He always wanted to get closer. If you were across the dinner table, he wanted to push everything off and kick everyone out and slam you on it. If you were across the pool and your eyes met, everyone disappeared, and the two of you went on this mental trip together, one that had him panting like a dog and sweating by the time either of you looked away.

The one thing that tripped him up was the night before when he caught you openly ogling him. It was another night of drinking around a bonfire on the beach with the adults, and you were unusually quiet while nursing your glass of wine. He noticed little looks throughout the night, but it was while everyone was enthralled in conversation. When he did notice you outright looking over him, you started at his neck and went lower along his torso and arms. When your eyes dropped to his waist, he was having trouble breathing. Under the intense heat of your eyes, it took everything in him to stay seated and not throw you over his shoulder and run with you down the beach to the tall grass where he knew he could have his way with you. That was when he knew he had to leave, so he did. Once in his bedroom, he was trapped with his thoughts and imagination, and the entire process began again.

By the time morning came, he was right back to square one, wanting you more than he’d ever wanted any other woman and knowing he had to back away from this. Now he was at the point of saying fuck it. He was only so strong, and three years of continuous strength was impressive enough.

“Where’ve you been these last three days?”

His mother stood before him with her arms crossed as she leaned against the front door.

“Uh, well—around.”

“Around?” Her eyes bored into him, and he knew it was a matter of time before she saw right through him.

“I was gonna--,” he began before she cut him off.

“Let’s take a walk. The others can handle the restocking of supplies.”

“Ma, it would go faster--,” he began.

“Walk with your mother, Christopher!” She didn’t even wait for him to respond before she walked out the front door. He knew he had to follow, so follow he did.

They walked through the front yard along the graveled path in silence for several moments. The chirping of the birds and gentle breeze in the air said summer was on its way. It was a beautiful day, and he hoped it would remain that way to produce a beautiful night.

“How are you handling the shift in dynamics in your life with this quarantine?”

“What do you mean?”

“With what you’ve been doing.” The way she looked at him had him paused, thinking maybe she knew. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

“Normally you’re working twenty-three hours of the day and have little to no free time. It’s been opposite, right?”

Relieved, he sighed and nodded. “Yeah. It’s been—different, a real change, but honestly, I think I like it more than I should.”

She smiled and patted his back. “Good. I’ve always told you that you need to take the time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. It is important to have some time to yourself to reflect and recalculate your life choices and decisions, time to see what has been working from what is a massive failure, and make the necessary changes that will impact your life positively. It is important to listen to recognize the signs of life and listen to them. If you go against them, you end up in situations that quickly flutter out of control, and then you’re worse off than when you began.”

He felt like she was hinting at something very discreetly, and it drove him crazy. She spoke like this when she knew something no one else knew that she knew. When he looked at her, she looked to him with slightly raised eyebrows.

“Uh—okay.”

“Have you recognized any life signs within the last—seven weeks?”

“Ma, what are you talking about? You only go on these deeply philosophical rants when you’re holding on a piece of information that can throw a monkey wrench in something.”

“I have no such piece of information.”

He didn’t believe her but decided to let it rest. They took a turn toward the path for the beach and fell into a comfortable silence before she began talking about current events. This was where he got his outspoken nature. She had no problem giving criticism of government policies and officials, and neither did he.

Soon the sand was underneath their feet then she spoke again.

“So getting to spend this time with Y/N has been great, right?”

He scoffed and laughed. “So this is what this walk is about? What did I do now, ma?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but since you brought it up, do you have to be so cold?”

“Cold? I’m not cold.”

“I know that. She doesn’t.”

He looked to her and knew the two of you had talked. “Has she said something to you?”

“Do you care?”

He sighed and focused on the sand beneath his feet. If he said yes, then she could read into it, and if he said no, then he knew she’d know he was lying. His mother could always tell between his truths and lies. It was infuriating.

“Maybe just be nicer, that’s all and maybe stay away from dropping that you think she makes shitty decisions.”

He snorted but cringed at the same time. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He was in his feelings, and it popped right out.

“Yeah, that was bad,” he agreed.

“Get to know her a little.”

“Ha, I think that would defeat the purpose. Don’t you think?”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer. There was no need to.

“Who says I don’t know her?”

“Learning things about someone on the surface is different than really getting to know someone and all the nuances that make them who they are. She’s a real catch, Chris. I liked her when Scott first brought her around, but these three years—she’s an incredible woman.”

Her words were not helping his internal struggle. They were only making him sway to the side he shouldn’t even be on. It was getting impossible to keep his distance from you, impossible to let another fifty-something days pass where he didn’t bury his face in your neck.

“Isn’t it funny how the universe brings things and people into your life at the most opportune times? Often it’s times when we need to make a change—when we’re ready to make a change,” she said in her Obi-Wan Kenobi wise one teaching tone.

He would have said something about how she was as subtle as a train, but he agreed with her on this one. For the last few days, he’d began thinking it was meant for you to be quarantined with him and his family, it was meant for the two of you to be trapped this close. His mind went back to something his mother said years ago, something that made even more sense now. He nearly laughed out loud.

“Just be the amazing man I raised, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve and spoke from his heart and did everything with light and love. Remember him?”

He nearly threw up in his mouth.

“He wasn’t so bad,” his mother continued.

“Everyone seems to love this guy a lot more.”

“They never knew the other guy. I understand that not everyone deserves to know that you, but I’m sure some people might deserve to see him.”

She looped her arm with his and reassuringly patted his forearm. She knew she was right, and even though he hated to admit when she was right, she was. When they climbed the last step leading to the backyard from the beach, you were no longer at the pool.

“I’m going to make sure everything is packed away where I like. You—enjoy the sunshine,” his mother said with a smile and an almost unnoticeable head nudge toward the guesthouse before she walked away toward the house.

He stood there for a few moments going over his own thoughts. This was supposed to be one of the easiest decisions. It was, but it was also a decision that would cause a domino effect. It was like he had to come to terms with flipping the first domino, come to terms with everything he would end up doing as a result of this date. Digging in his back pocket for the envelope, he slapped his palm with it and walked toward the guesthouse. Once at the door, he wedged it in the crack and released the anxious breath he held before he walked off to prepare for the night.

-Y/N-

You’d been staring at the envelope for the last thirty or so minutes. When you’d come back from the bike ride with the kids, you didn’t expect to see it wedged in the door. At first, you thought it was mail that was forwarded to you, but then you realized you hadn’t given any forwarding instructions. It was then you saw your name scribbled across the front of it, and you immediately recognized Chris’s handwriting.

You were enjoying the agonizing stares and wayward glances of the last few days. You were grateful for the space he was giving you. You didn’t know if he was doing it for you or if he was having second thoughts. Whatever it was, you were glad about it. You were able to go over every single word that was spoken the night at his place, analyze every action, and even daydream about that kiss. You’d never been kissed like that in all your thirty years. None of your crushes, school boyfriends, adult boyfriends, Charles included had ever kissed you like that, and none of them had ever had you feeling what you felt in those two minutes.

For the last few days, that was what was fucking you up. You’d kissed plenty of guys, you were in no means promiscuous, but you enjoyed having freedom of your body and did what you pleased with it. While you were ultimate level exclusive with who you allowed close to you, you had no problem claiming your pleasure. You’d kissed men who loved to use too much tongue or drown you in saliva, or peck at you like they were a bird and you a worm. You’d kissed men who knew what they were doing and those who were entirely clueless, but with him it was different.

He didn’t use too much tongue; it was the right amount, and he had a thing where he rolled it around yours that sent goosebumps down your spine. The level of saliva was perfection; the only thing that was drowning was your underwear. Then the way he nibbled at your bottom lip and sucked; it took your breath away. It was clear he knew what he was doing. He was at expert mastery in the art of the kiss, and because of it, you were ready to risk it all, and that was a first—a first that scared the shit out of you.

You’d never had this reaction to a man before, and you were enjoying prolonging it though it was absolute torture. Every time you caught him watching you, you played whatever you were doing up. If you were walking, you’d swish your ass a little more, swimming you’d lean against the pool wall and pretend you’re stretching your back, which sent your breasts out even more. It was amusing to see his reactions. You thought you’d been stealthy with checking him out, but on the beach last night, you realized you were the opposite of stealthy. When your eyes met, it sent you entirely over the edge. When you went to bed that night, you couldn’t help but bring out your bullet vibrator. Your finger was no longer cutting it.

“Open the goddamn envelope, Y/N.”

You trailed your fingertips over your name that he’d written and flipped it over, ready to rip it open. You unfolded a sheet of white paper and smiled at his messy but strategic handwriting.

-Y/N-

I’ve been trying to figure out the best day and the best way to go about this. You mean that much.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

Will you have dinner with me tonight?

If your answer is yes, please meet me at seven at the house in the woods. God, I hope your answer is yes.

-Chris

Your smile was so wide, your cheeks hurt. You could imagine his cheeks were flushed as he wrote this. Such a dork, you thought to yourself.

“A sweet dork. Huh.”

You took notice of the butterflies fluttering around your belly and dropped back on the couch with a loud groan.

“Get a grip, Y/N. It is just a date. One date, one meaningless date,” you drilled with your eyes closed, trying to slow your racing heart.

After a few minutes, you sprang back up to a sitting position with panic coursing through you.

“Fuck, what do I wear!?”

You leaped to your feet and ran into the bedroom to rifle through the closet and drawers. When you packed for this quarantine, you packed sweats, leggings, tanks, swimsuits, cover-ups, underwear, sleepwear, and even lingerie. You didn’t even want to wear actual fabric, so nothing was adequate for a date. After twenty minutes of searching, your entire floor was covered with clothes, and you were sitting in the middle of it full on panicking.

“What do I do?” Closing your eyes, you fell back onto the pillow of clothing and berated yourself for not thinking to pack anything nice.

After a long, while you got up and looked around and decided you just had to improvise and cross your fingers it looked good together. It took you almost an hour to find something you were remotely okay with that wasn’t overtly sexy or way too chill. You wanted his jaw to drop when he saw you, but you didn’t want him thinking you were some easy piece of ass. After putting it together, you hopped in the shower. When you eyed your hair remover lotion and thought if you should bother. After barely fifteen seconds of decision making, you slathered the lotion on. Better safe than sorry, you thought.

By the time you got out of the shower, you had forty minutes to get yourself put together to get to the house. It wasn’t enough time; you knew that. You wanted to give him the full date look. The full glory of a put together you. It probably didn’t matter seeing that he’d seen you without make up these last seven weeks anyway. Something in you said to carry on as usual. By the time you were finished, you slipped on your slides, refusing to dwell on the fact you didn’t have not one pair of heels. You probably looked a hot mess.

When you opened the door, there was the bike Chris had found you for the bike ride with yet another note in the basket. You smiled, and as you were about to take it, your phone went off.

MSG Scott: Coming to dinner?

Fuck, you thought as you wracked your brain with a response. You couldn’t very well tell him you weren’t because you were going on a date with his brother. You groaned and took a deep breath as you tapped a response out.

MSG: No. Somehow, I have three zoom meetings tonight about a serious project. I’ll be doing this all night. I’ll come by and grab something when I’m done.

MSG Scott: Okay. I’ll even leave a bottle of wine in the fridge for you. I think you’ll need it.

You smiled but felt like an asshole. Chris was probably going to be balls deep in you in a few hours, and he had no idea. The thought of it had you excited. Grabbing the envelope, you opened it and read the note inside.

-Your chariot awaits-

You smiled rolled your eyes as you walked the bike toward the wooded area of the property. Once on the path, you wrapped the hem of your skirt and climbed onto the bike and set off. You did your best to not think about the many ways this night could go. You wanted to stay present because you knew that if your mind wandered, then you’d put yourself in a state of anxiousness for the rest of the night.

Before you knew it, you were in front of the gate, and your heart was racing, and it wasn’t from the exercise. You climbed off the bike and leaned it against the gate before you pushed through it and nearly fell on your face at the sight before you. The path before you was trailed with lights that made a path toward the house. As you took in the house, you couldn’t help but say, wow. It was covered in twinkle lights that lit up the property with a warm and romantic glow.

When you looked back to the path, you saw Chris standing there. From the distance you were at, you couldn’t fully make out his face. You hesitated taking your first step but pushed away the uncertainty and walked on. It felt like the longest walk you’d ever taken. After what felt like five minutes, you stopped in front of him. He looked a little shocked and something else you couldn’t decipher.

“Hi,” Chris whispered. You smiled small at first, but it spread in seconds.

“Hi. I’m sorry I’m late. It was a task and a half getting to this,” you said, signaling from your face to body. Chris then slowly looked over your figure before he returned to your face.

“You look—wow incredible.”

You smiled and released your nervous breath and the worry that he wouldn’t like how you looked.

“Yeah? I wasn’t sure. I literally had nothing to wear.”

“You could have come in sweats and a t-shirt, and you’d still look incredible.” You tried to keep a straight face, but it was impossible, your blush took over.

“Thank you,” you bashfully whispered.

“These are for you.” Chris held out a bouquet of sunflowers and daisies to you. You couldn’t believe your eyes, and he must have sensed your hesitation.

“Sunflowers, they mean happiness, adoration, and even loyalty while the daisies mean innocence, purity, and new beginnings,” Chris explained with his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t need to speak loudly, you heard him loud and clear, and the wat his voice wrapped around you and coxed you closer was not missed.

“Innocence and purity, huh.” You reached out and took the flowers from him and brought them to your nose.

“What don’t think you fit the criteria?”

“Ha, innocent and pure, nope. How did you get these?”

“I picked them. I think my mother will be very upset tomorrow, but this was an emergency.” You smiled and shook your head. He had game.

“Thank you.”

He led the way to the house then stopped to let you walk up the steps and across the front deck before him. As you walked, you could feel his eyes on you, and you were glad you’d chosen this mix and match outfit. Just as you were going to walk inside, Chris took your hand, stopping you in your tracks. When your eyes met, he came closer then looked at your hands. His fingers softly grazed yours, and goosebumps flew up your arm. When he was inches from your face, he looked back into your eyes.

“Close your eyes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Close your eyes. This is your first test in trusting me.”

You cocked your head to the side and took him in. He was being serious. Scoffing, you shook your head and closed your eyes only to snap them open again. He hadn’t moved an inch. He just stood there patiently waiting. Sighing, you closed your eyes and kept them shut. You didn’t know what he was doing, and the fact that you had no control over this set you off. After a minute, your anxiety was at its peak.

“Hopefully, by the end of the night when I ask you to do that again, it’ll be easier for you.” His lips were close to your ear. You could smell his cologne and picked up the hint of mint and basil that came off him.

He took your other hand and led you.

“Keep coming; you’re doing great.”

After a few more steps, you stopped. You wanted to open and look, but you fought the urge and instead waited for him to tell you to. Again, it felt like an eternity of silence.

“Open them.” You took a deep breath and opened your eyes and slowly blew it out when you took in what he’d been doing. Before you, the limbs of the trees were draped in twinkle lights that hung down, mimicking the limbs of a weeping willow tree. In the dead center of the dangling lights was a table set for two with lit candles to finish off the décor. You were blown away to the point of speechlessness.

“Wow.” It was a whisper. Chris stepped out before you and held out his hand for yours. When you placed it in his palm, he led you across the deck down to the scene. You looked around and took notice of a movie screen that was on the exterior wall, and a setup area with candles, cushions, and flowers. You smiled to yourself.

Chris motioned to the seat for you, and you wasted no time sitting with a plop. Your head was spinning looking at everything he’d done. This looked like he went through a lot of trouble.

I’m going to check on dinner. I’ll be right back.” You nodded and watched him walk toward the house. For the first time, you took in his crisp white shirt and tan colored pants. It was casual, but he looked good. Your eyes dropped to his ass and smiled. He looked really good, you thought. When he disappeared inside, you took in your surroundings again. Taking out your phone, you snapped a few pictures, so you could reminisce later as you reflected.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize when he’d returned. When he touched your shoulder, it scared you half to death.

“I’m sorry, I thought you heard me.”

“Oh god, no. I’m sorry I zoned out.”

“Everything okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you slowly released it and nodded. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I was just—admiring what you’ve done here,” you informed.

“Do you like it?”

“What’s not to like? It’s beautiful, really beautiful,” you said with a smile before you looked at him. when you did a relieved look washed over him, and that was when you saw he was nervous too.

“Wine? I know you prefer white, but I have some red too.”

“But you prefer beer, I can drink beer,” you countered.

“I’m much more than a beer drinker. We’ll start with the white.” Chris began opening the bottle, and your attention dropped to his hands. He had his cuffs rolled up just enough to show his forearms. As he gripped the bottle and the opener, every single vein bulged in his arm and hands, and just like that, your mind was in the gutter.

Clearing your throat, you straightened, “Actually, let’s start with the red.”

“Red?”

“Yeah, red wine is more potent.”

“Potent. Uh—do you think stronger is a good idea?”

You studied him and smirked. “What do you think if I drink red wine that I’ll try to jump your bones?”

His smile was boyish and adorable. “I never said that. Just thought you’d want a clear head.”

“I can more than hold my liquor,” you finished. Chris nodded and switched gears and began opening the red wine instead. When he filled your glass halfway, you eyed him, which made him snort before he poured a little more.

“What should we drink to?”

You thought about it for a few moments then crossed your legs. Chris’ eyes dropped to your exposed thigh, and you thought this was almost too easy.

“What do you want to drink to?”

Chris looked up from your thigh with just his eyes, and you were stunned silent yet again.

“No masks,” Chris proposed holding his glass out to you.

“No masks,” you repeated, tapping your glass to his before you took a hearty gulp of the semi-sweet but tart liquid and moaned.

“Nice choice,” you commented. You could taste the berry and hickory undertones in it, but it wasn’t overpowering.

“Of course, you’d think so, the wine collector.”

“Hey, if you like to drink, you better get a hobby that correlates.” He smiled warmly before he sat adjacent to you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you from the guesthouse. I wanted to but--,” Chris began.

“No, no need to apologize. I understand. Honestly, I think meeting here was a better idea. Cute message, though.” Again, he smiled, and you took another hearty gulp of wine that turned into quite the mouthful.

“Thirsty?”

“You have no idea,” you answered. Chris just watched you, and the longer he did, the more your nerves were playing tricks on you.

This was insane, you thought. No man had you this nervous and anxious. In all the years of first dates, this was a first. You were usually calm, cool, collected, and completely detached and objective. It was all to ensure you analyzed the night correctly down to your date’s words, body language, and efforts with planning the night. You were struggling with remaining objective.

Your knees nearly buckled when you’d walked through the gate. Then when you stood before him, you nearly panted out to give away just how breathless he made you. When you saw what he’d done to the back of the house, you almost let loose an “aww,” and now you were barely keeping it together to not melt right into him, and it hadn’t even been an hour yet. He was already presenting completely different than he had in the entire three years you’d known him. Your head was still spinning.

“Are you hungry?”

Keeping your fresh ass in check, you nodded and took another long sip of your wine. Chris stood and walked back into the house, and you used the time to find your chill.

When he laid down the trey, he carried he arranged the plates and assortment he’d prepared across the table. The scents coming from the plates had your belly grumbling.

“Wow, this smells incredible.”

“You sound surprised. I can cook, you know.”

“I’d heard stories of you being able to do a little somethin’.”

“I do more than a little somethin’, I can throw all the way down in the kitchen,” Chris bragged. You nodded as you laughed.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Chris sat and waited for you to take a bite. You sliced your meat and put a piece in your mouth. Instantly the juices of the steak washed over your tongue, and you couldn’t help but moan.

“Uh-huh, told you. Chef Evans!”

“All right, it’s good. No need to brag. Cockiness in men is unattractive.”

“You’re a liar, and you know it,” Chris dryly responded which made you laugh loudly.

The two of you ate in silence for a few moments.

“I’ve always liked your laugh.”

Your shock was evident. He smiled as he finished his mouthful.

“Ah, that’s right, you thought I hated everything about you. Got it,” Chris teased.

“Wow, this is surreal,” you added.

“I always thought I was doing such a horrible job hiding how I really felt, thought I was so see through. Either I was better than I thought, or you’re not as good at reading people as you thought.”

“Hey, not cool. Don’t come for me, Chris.”

He laughed again and continued to eat. Your head ran to New Year's Eve. “New Year's Eve, that comment you said. Was that bullshit?”

His smile was soft as he finished chewing. “Complete bullshit.”

You busted out laughing then and squealed. You really thought he was throwing shade at you.

“Oh my god. You asshole. The rest of the night I was in my feelings, I was so salty. Wow, Chris.”

He laughed some more as you shook your head.

“Wait, is this what Sebastian meant?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“As I was making my way over, Sebastian and I chatted, and he said he liked my dress and that no wonder he’s so conflicted,” you divulged.

“Wow, he said that?” You nodded and waited for him to answer.

“Wow. Um, yeah I guess. We’d gone out drinking before, and I must have had too much, and I think I may have let something slip,” Chris explained.

“Wow. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not, you saw what I wanted you to—what I needed you to,” Chris slid in.

“I was so salty that I was so determined to have fun and ignore you. When Charles approached me, I said, fuck it why not to leaving with him,” you confessed. Chris’s eyes bugged as he leaned back.

“You’re kidding.”

With a yikes face, you shook your head. “Hand to God.”

“Woow. You’re telling me I drove you to him?” His disbelief was evident; you juggled your head from side to side, not wanting to say yes or no.

“Wow, I’m about to flip this fucking table.”

You laughed out loud again and covered your mouth, trying to hide just how amused you were. This was perfect comedic irony. Chris finished his glass of wine, then shook his head.

“Guess I am the asshole.” You shrugged and continued eating.

Thanks to the laughter, your anxiety had decreased, but you were now wondering if he was thinking about you sleeping with Charles on New Year’s. When you glanced at him, his expression was unreadable, his brows were knitted, and it looked like he was in deep thought, but you couldn’t read if his thoughts were angry ones.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

You smiled fondly as you nodded. It was one of the few pleasant outings with him.

“God, that lake was beautiful,” you reminisced.

“It was. I thought you were gorgeous; your smile was the first thing I noticed. Then your laugh,” Chris began with a soft smile on his lips. “I remember watching you cannonball over and over into the lake. You had endless energy, and you never looked more beautiful. You were so full of light and joy. I don’t know; there was something about you that just made me feel like a firefly drawn to you like you were a flame. Then when you began telling your story, I was hooked. You were funny, charismatic, silly, and just carefree. That is one of my favorite memories of you,” Chris finished.

You didn’t know what to say to that. You had no idea he held that day or memory close at all.

“We talked for two hours straight that night, right?”

He nodded, and the two of you just stared at the flame of the candle, both lost in the memory.

“I remember thinking that night that Jesus Scott’s brother is hot, but he’s smart,” you admitted. When Chris looked at you, you regretted opening your mouth. You gulped down the remainder of the wine and blew out.

“That was the night I realized I liked you.”

“Liked, liked?”

“No, liked, liked was later,” Chris said.

“When?”

He studied you for a minute then finished his glass before he reached for the bottle to refill your glasses.

“It was the fourth of July. We all went to the firework thing in the Hamptons, and the whole night, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. I watched guy after guy approach you, flirt, and with each of them, I felt something that was unfamiliar to me—jealousy.”

“You’d never felt jealousy before?”

“When it comes to a woman or men who talk to her? Never. The way I lived my life back then—there was no reason or room for it. I felt it that night, though, and it was unsettling. You talked, and I was hanging off every single word. When the fireworks started, the first burst in the sky lit you up in this amazing light, and the happiness on your face hit me harder than a Mack truck ever could. It was the most uncomfortable I’d ever felt, the most insecure and fearful. It terrified me, but like a firefly, to the flame, I had to get closer. Then when you looked back at me something felt different in that moment, I saw something in your eyes that was unsettling.”

“Was that when you disappeared? I remember I reached back for your hand and got your fingers. Then they were gone. I looked back, and you were walking away in the crowd.”

The emotions that came back with the memory surprised you. You’d buried that night so deep, but having it resurface now was unexpected. You took a long sip from your glass and tried to work through the feeling of nakedness.

“I’ve regretted that night for a long time,” Chris quietly admitted. You studied him and waited for him to continue.

“Some nights, I thought I regretted walking away, others I thought I regretted everything else.”

“And tonight? What do you regret?”

His eyes met yours, and it was there they remained. The longer he stared at you, the louder your heartbeat. You were sure he could hear it, but he didn’t say anything about it. His eyes dropped to your lips and stayed there for quite a while before sadness washed over his face, and his eyes dropped to the table.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” he softly whispered. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something behind all of that. Something had just happened.

Before you could bring it up, he changed the subject and asked you about work. For the next fifteen minutes, you explained what you did and your goals and hopes and dreams when it came to your craft. Chris happily listened and never looked bored by a thing you said. He genuinely looked interested.

Dinner was delicious, and the conversation was flowing and the worries of earlier that you’d have nothing to talk about dissipated. You talked about a wide range of things that didn’t stop at work or interests. You even ventured into the hard-hitting things such as politics. When he went into a spirited rant about his beliefs, you sat there happily listening.

When he spoke like this with conviction, you found him most attractive. You loved an educated man, a man who had a brain and was not afraid to show it. It was clear he wasn’t his vocabulary was on point, and with every three-hundred-point Scrabble word he dropped, you drank more and more of your wine, hoping it would douse the fire in the pit of your stomach. It did nothing.

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch his mouth. It moved beautifully as if he were speaking the most creative prose. You loved the way his mouth formed the words and letters. He had your undivided attention. Four bottles of wine later, you were still sitting at the table talking, and you didn’t mind at all. You couldn’t help but think how you’d misjudged him all these years. You’d put up a wall after that fourth of July, and with each interaction, you just added another pane of glass to make it thick enough that he could see you, but he’d have no effect. It was clear to you now that he was shattering each pane of glass. His effort into tonight took half of it. He was easy to talk to, the way your brains played off of each other was something you’d expected.

When he turned on a movie to fit across the screen of the makeshift movie theater, you were in a comfortable bubble. He handed you the remote, and that was how Netflix and chill began. You watched an action-comedy that had the two of you laughing loud enough to wake the animals in the woods. Neither of you cared. He laughed when you laughed, and you did the same. Every time he clasped his hand to his chest as he laughed, it pulled at your heartstrings, heartstrings you had no idea existed for him. This one night was fucking you up more than three years of his cold and frigid antics.

“Wow, I’m gonna have to call Helms and tell him what a fucking good job he did with this,” Chris announced through fits of laughter.

“Him? My god, that little boy. Shit with my luck that would be my son,” you admitted, which set Chris off on another laughing fit, one that you joined in on.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious. He’d be dropping all sorts of f-bombs and pussy talk.”

“In his Bostonian accent,” Chris added through laughs.

“Yes. You can see it too.”

“Yeah, like fugettaboutit sweetart now show me that pussy.”

You busted out laughing again and hit him on the shoulder.

“Oh my god, my son would be a badass kid, I can see it now.”

“Nah, I’d keep his ass in line,” Chris said.

“Whatever, you’d be laughing with him egging him because he takes after your ass with that dirty ass mouth,” you added. You laughed together for a few moments before you both slowly registered what you’d said and how it came off. You both had just referred to your future imaginary son as a son you would share. Oh fuck, you thought as you finished your wine.

“I’m gonna get started on those dishes,” Chris announced as he stood and walked off to the table still littered with dishes and utensils.

You sat there and grabbed the bottle before you, and took it to the head while you reflected a little. After a few minutes, you decided thinking was the enemy right now and took up the glasses to walk inside. Chris had already started loading the dishwasher when you approached.

“Hey, got room for two more?”

“Thanks.” He took the glasses and busied himself once again. You hopped onto the counter beside the sink and crossed your legs, leaving your thigh exposed.

“Why did you build a house on your property that already has a house?”

“This is usually where everyone comes to let loose. Often the house is always full, and it gets loud. I thought it would be a good idea to have somewhere I could hear myself think or even work.”

“This is really cool, and interestingly enough, it looks like you. There are so many details that just screams Chris,” you said.

“Like what?”

“The bed.”

You didn’t mean to go right there, but the wine was finally beginning to work.

“The bed?”

You nodded and brought the wine bottle to your head again.

“How?”

“It’s rustic, kind of, and the plaid on it. You have a lumberjack thing when you come home.”

He snorted and laughed out loud. “Wow, a lumberjack?”

“What’s there’s nothing wrong with lumberjacks. There are plenty of women who get hot for lumberjacks.”

“Are you one of them?” Chris glanced back at you with an eyebrow raised. You smiled.

“Maybe,” you muttered before taking another sip from the bottle.

“What do you get hot for?” He didn’t look back that time. He continued on as if he hadn’t heard you, but you knew he had.

“Not gonna tell me? Gonna make me guess? Okay, I can guess. Let’s see,” you began drinking down the wine.

“From the expert analysis of members of Lipstick Alley I’d say tall, slim, partly curvy by slim standards, hair color doesn’t matter not really, you can take blonde, red, brown, black, but beauty does, pretty eyes, slim nose, big boobs, nice ass by slim white girl standards,” you listed off as Chris dried his hands and walked to you. When he was before you, he took the bottle from your hands to raise it to his mouth.

“Sound about right?”

“Does any of that describe you?”

“Not at all,” you answered with a smirk as you uncrossed your legs.

“Then I guess that doesn’t make me hot. Only you have made me hot for the last three years,” he blatantly admitted.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “You’re full of shit.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been fucking all these years. So hence, you’re full of shit.”

You made a move to hop down, but Chris was between your knees in seconds, stopping you. “How do you know I didn’t have to think about you all these years?”

Butterflies filled your belly again.

“Uh--,” you began.

“Cat got your tongue? Is it really that impossible to be true? Impossible to think that all these years I’ve had you in my head while I was with anyone else, had you in my head every night where I stroked myself, had you in my head every night for the last fifty-two days?” You were speechless as you searched his eyes.

“Welcome to my prison, Y/N,” Chris whispered close to your ear before he walked away back toward the back deck.

You couldn’t believe your ears. Had he really just admitted to using your image to fuck the thots he had all this time? Had he really just called it a prison? You hopped off the counter and walked out back.

“What kind of shit is that to say?”

“It was the truth,” Chris calmly said as he leaned against the table to then cross his stretched out legs.

“You’re telling me you thought of me while you fucked every girl over the last three years? You thought about me as you had sex with other women? How am I supposed to take that? Is that supposed to feel good?”

You felt jealousy like you’d never felt before. “Wow.”

“Does it feel the same way I felt seeing you parade around with every Thomas, Randall, Trevor, Harry, and Charles? Hearing the stories from our friends, sitting there?”

“There is a huge difference there. You knew how you felt. I--,” you snapped your mouth shut and turned your back to him.

“You what?”

“I didn’t know how I felt,” you quietly responded before you spun to him. “You knew how you felt but still chose to fuck them. You still chose how the last three years happened. Now you tell me this. Why?”

“I made a promise, Y/N.”

“To who?!”

“It’s not important,” he began before you got fed up and got closer.

“The hell it isn’t. who did you promise, Chris?!”

“You!”

You lurched back and looked at him as confusion filled you.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

Tag List:

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.

#quarantine: a love story fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #Q12 #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic #black fanfiction #quarantine fanfic

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elisaphoenix13 · 5 years

Text

For The Fairies

Stephen had been gone from the Tower for a few days to help Wong deal with a being from another dimension, but as soon as he stepped through his portal into his shared bedroom, he immediately felt tension in the air. It wasn't angry or thick enough to cut with a knife, but it was definitely annoyed.

The origin of the annoyance, Tony Stark, slumps into the room with an exasperated and defeated look until he spots Stephen and grimaces.

"He's your son now." Tony flops onto their bed as Stephen changes out of his robes.

"What is it this time?"

"He has gone on strike. Against sleep. He's been awake for three days Stephanie! Peter's driving me crazy!"

Stephen furrows a brow. "Why exactly is he refusing to sleep?"

"Who the hell knows with that kid? Yes I did ask," The doctor closes his mouth. "He went off on some tangent about hallucinations and I kind of clocked out halfway through his babbling. He was already awake for two days at that point and wasn't making much sense anyway."

"I'm guessing you want me to try to get him to sleep."

"Oh would you? I'm going to take a nap."

The sorcerer smirks. "If Peter has you taking a nap then it must be bad."

Tony flips him off over his shoulder as Stephen leaves their room, and the doctor soon finds Peter standing in the kitchen with a mug half full of coffee. If he watched the teen close enough, he could see him practically vibrating in his skin.

Stephen quietly approaches Peter and prys what is left of the cold coffee from the boy's hands, dumps it in the sink, and leads him to a chair at the table before sitting across from him. He watches dull eyes suddenly brighten in recognition and Peter grins.

"You're home!"

"Peter." Stephen starts slowly and the boy tilts his head. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I'm on a super secret mission!"

The sorcerer bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. Just how far gone was this kid? He was obviously already zoning in and out of awareness if how he found the teen was anything to go by. Dark bags were forming under his eyes and his eyelids were drooping, so Stephen had to go about this carefully.

"Spiderling. What's two times two?"

Peter gives him a look like he had grown another head. "Its not nice to ask hard questions."

Very gone. "Okay. You're going to bed."

Peter jumps to his feet when Stephen stands and stumbles momentarily. "No! I have to know how long it takes!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The fairies!"

His cub had officially gone insane.

Well shit...Natasha was rubbing off on him if he was considering Peter his cub. He really needed to nip that in the bud before he actually said it out loud. If he did, he would never hear the end of it. It was bad enough they were all calling him Mom.

"There are no fairies Peter. I should know."

"They only appear when you're sleep deprived because then they think you can't see them."

"Your logic astounds me. Bed. Now."

Peter jumps up to the ceiling when Stephen reaches out toward him and the sorcerer sighs loudly. He had not signed up for this. He was tired and really hoping that the vigilante would see reason and listen to him, but the boy was too far gone in his exhaustion.

So the sorcerer tried whatever he could think of to get the boy to agree to bed. Cuddles?

Nope, Peter knew that would lead to him passing out.

Sleep aids?

Peter would metabolize those faster than they could take effect.

Movies?

He was barely sitting still long enough to listen to Mama Bear's offers. He was acting like a six year old instead of--

Oh.

"I know why you aren't seeing the fairies yet."

Peter freezes and looks down at him skeptically. "Why?"

"Have you drank any warm milk?"

"No."

"There's your problem. They only show themselves to someone who drinks warm milk. It shows them they can trust you not to hurt them." Stephen felt ridiculous but he would try anything at this point. "Why don't you go sit on the couch? I'll bring you some."

Peter nods excitedly and crawls across the ceiling into the living room and the sorcerer makes true to his promise of warm milk. Of all the weird things he's had to deal with, whether it be beings from another dimension or even Tony and Peter themselves, this was definitely in his top ten. If a yeti broke through a window, he wouldn't even bat an eye. A sleep deprived, fairy believing sixteen year old boy was weirder.

He never thought he would say that.

Stephen carries the warm milk into the living room and hands it to the vibrating teen and sits down tiredly. Peter chugs his drink and places the empty mug on the coffee table, and Stephen waits with apprehension.

It took less than three minutes.

Peter drools on the throw pillow under his head and Stephen motions toward Levi.

"Take him to bed."

The Cloak wraps around the deeply sleeping teen and carries him off to his room and the doctor returns to his and Tony's room. With a flop, much like the one Tony made earlier, Stephen lands on the bed and buries his face into his pillow with a satisfied groan.

The engineer beside him grunts at the disturbance. "He asleep?"

"After two hours of trying to peel him off the ceiling."

"How did you do it?"

"Warm milk."

Tony guffaws. "God, he's such a kid."

"Only because I convinced him it would bring the fairies."

"Fairies? No...no...I don't want to know."

Stephen laughs. "He was so far gone I'm sure he won't even remember."

"Little shit."

"Understatement of the year."

#tony stark #mama bear stephen strange #peter parker #supremefamily #ironstrange #irondad #ironstrange family

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grizztomysam · 5 years

Text

Grizzam and Power Naps Mini Fic

Disclaimer..lowkey NSFW..but really mild cuz I’ve yet to go buck wild

=================================

Taking care of a baby and toiling away at a farm that is responsible for the prevention of 200 plus citizens from starving to death can be exhausting. It’s an ache in the bones, lids so heavy, Imma close my eyes for a minute, head jerking back as they’re free falling mid dream, tired kind of exhaustion. Which doesn’t really help a relationship when your still in its honeymoon stages, although Grizz likes to argue its the only stage they’ll ever be in. He’ll always want Sam even when he gets all wrinkly and grey, earning him a scrunching of Sam’s button nose and “Ew..geriatric sex!” Which is cute as fuck and he nips the argument in the bud after he kisses Sam silly.

Kissing he discovers almost always solves everything.

What it can’t help is how tired they always seem to be. Not even the promise of alone time for some sexy sexy on all hard and soft surfaces deemed “Eden’s never going to reach that” can tempt them from the allure of long ass power nap. A contradiction in itself. Because a power nap by Sam’s definition meant a minimum of at least nine hours.

“That’s not a power nap Sam, that’s hibernation levels type of sleep.”

“Oh semantics...”

“That’s...that’s not how it works and no--”

But he drops it because Sam kisses him this time and that thing he does with his tongue can’t be legal.

They try tho. With an enthusiasm that brings forth a temporary rush of adrenaline against the stubborn and suffocating grip of work fatigue to make things interesting and romantic and new. But it’s so fucking hard.

Sex is awesome..but sleep is nice too.

It’s a particularly long ass day at the farm and Grizz is close to screaming or bawling, whichever comes first. The patch of romaine lettuce he’d carefully coaxed from seedlings have turned brown and riddled with pest holes and he’s itching to have a go at said pest with the heel of his work boot. He’s a lover not a fighter, once sobbing to his mom when he was seven how to perform CPR on a limp caterpillar he’d found on his windowsill. But his lettuce is hurt and he’s pissed. Because when push comes to shove, he’ll fucking defend to the death what’s his Goddamnit.

And he really is oh so tired, going on a measly four hours of sleep because Eden is teething and Sam looked like death last night, red rimmed eyes wet and helpless as he tried everything to get the squirming baby to bed. Becca was MIA; quarantined in the medical bay at the hospital after catching some freak of nature flu strain when it wasn’t even flu season. She was recovering, thank the Lord, but still weak and unsafe for Eden to be around.

He feels guilty he has the farm to run off to, tho Sam would argue its hard work and an obligation to the town. But he also really loves the dirt and endless potential of life it can grow. It’s back breaking yes, leaves him dripping and soaked in sweat, blistered hands and a farmer tan more reddish pink than glowy brown that Sam can’t surely find appealing, but he’s afforded a few hours of peace from Eden’s screaming lungs.

Because that baby can really yell. She’s tiny and cute and gorgeous as all hell, her baby head fitting neatly into his palm, but her lungs can’t be of the human species. He hopes it manifests into something nice like a beautiful soprano. Eden will only get louder and a screaming teenage Eden will be scary. At least a singing one won’t be so bad.

He wishes Sam would be able to hear that if it ever happens. He’s wistful remembering the night he’d forgotten how to breathe, because he was teetering at the edge of either having his heart crushed into a million fucking pieces or finally getting to taste Sam’s lips. The night Sam wished he could hear his voice.

If it meant Sam could hear again he wouldn’t hesitate to give up his own. But he keeps that to himself. Sam is too selfless to accept selfless acts back.

But he still would tho.

The moment is broken when he hears the ping of a text received from his phone.

Hey sexy farmer boy! Gwen’s gonna take Eden for the night...Wanna meet me on the couch later after your shift? I think it misses our naked butts.

He bites the inside of his cheek from grinning too wide as he rolls his eyes at the screen. But the the cobwebs and the tired in his head slowly ebb away.

He can handle two more hours.

Turns out he can’t. A bounty of things can happen in two hours when sleep deprived. Terrible terrible things like bawling and screaming at plants, stumbling over roots and almost cracking his skull wide open and falling and crushing the tomatoes he’d just picked off the vine after stumbling over roots and almost cracking his skull wide open. The shiny, big, juicy, multicolored heirloom tomatoes that would have made his grandpapa swoon with delight. He wants to punch the goddamn root.

At this rate they were screwed for the coming winter.

Bruised and battered and dirty he slinks back home defeated.

He has the right mind to steel back his scowl and quiet his mutterings of bloody murder for wayward roots that have the gall to grow above ground as he stands outside their front door. Composes himself and attempts to fashion some semblance of a smile.

Sam greets him at the door, he appears to have been waiting by the stairs in the foyer and reaches for a hug but stops.

Sam has always been able read right through him.

The shorter boy reaches up to cradle his face, running a soft finger across the space between his lips and chin as he kissed him on the tip of his nose.

“You ok?”

He sighs heavy but turns his head to plant a quick peck into Sam’s palm and nods.

“I’m just dirty and all. Let me wash up and I’ll meet you on the couch?”

Sam lets it go, but his eyes promise a talk will be had later on.

The shower helps, and his body soon hums to the promised feel of Sam’s hands on his own.

Disobedient plant children and screaming babies are forgotten.

“Hey baby..” Sam murmurs it into the line of his jaw..all breathy and hot after he grabs the smaller boy by the waist all sudden and rough to straddle his lap, pulling a giggled gasp from Sam’s lips, as they both fall back onto the couch.

His brain is happy and Gareth junior seemed to have perked up a bit, as his hands find purchase onto the loops of Sam’s jean, gripping and guiding Sam’s hips to rock against his own.

“You smell so good..” Sam moans into his ear, eliciting a growl from his throat.

Sam’s moaning was definitely the 8th wonder of the world.

The friction is delicious and Sam’s fingers are now kneading a pattern between soft and hard pressure on the sensitive skin at his nape and the soft space behind his ears. His lips kiss, languid and open, onto the juncture of Grizz’s neck, usually resulting to immediate eyes rolling back and ripped clothes on the floor.

But this time his lids grow heavy. A “No,no no..don’t you fucking dare” echoes in his head but its growing cloudy and distant.

The ministrations on his scalp lulls and soothes and he feels the rocking of their hips slow as his hands lose their grip on Sam’s hip, its rhythm stutters and then stops.

Sam’s mouth have stilled, but stay open, jaw slack as muffled snores fill the air, his cheek pressed into the crook of Grizz’s shoulder.

Goddamnit, he thinks, following soon after.

“Fucking adorable shit.”

Gwen stands with a smug smirk at the arched doorway to the living room, balancing a gurgling Eden on her hip, as she ogled, leered really, at the snoring coupled spectacle on the couch.

Sam is straddling and cuddled into Grizz’s neck like a man-sized koala while Grizz held him in place with a curled arm, the other dangling and trailing the carpeted floor below. Their clothes are in dissarray, Grizz’s left shoulder exposed, the collar of his shirt having been stretched taut, while Sam’s shirt has ridden up, leaving the freckled and dimpled dip of his lower back naked, his checkered boxers peaking from the waist of his jeans. Grizz’s head is a haloed mess as its tipped back onto the couch cushion, his mouth wide open with a line of drool falling from the corner.

The scene is clear: They were making out hot and heavy and somehow fell asleep.

Insurance purposes, she smiles all devilishly, snapping a picture.

“Can you say fucking adorable?” Gwen babbles into Eden’s chubby cheeks, stopping by the kitchen to get Eden’s forgotten pacifier. The baby blows spit bubbles and grabs for her hair as they step out the door towards home.

“Yeshh they are aren’t they, Eden. Fucking adorable.”

Becca’s gonna go for Gwen’s throat once the baby starts talking.

#Grizzam Drabble mini fic #Exhausted boyfies #another one from drafts graveyard #Grizzam #is life #grizz and sam #sam eliot #grizz visser #this would be nice if it was realized in season 2 #fic stuff #fanfic

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heartthrobcityimagine · 5 years

Text

Who is This??/Part 10/ Noah Centineo

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A/N: Holy shit ya’ll! It’s been a hot minute! I apologize for this taking so long. I’ve had a lot of issues going on in the past few months... I’ll explain more later!

Warnings: Language... As always. Ya’ll have waited long enough!

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Where we left off in Part 9:

In that moment, him lying in your hospital bed, his lips connected with yours, warm hand touching your face, you knew deep down that no matter what happened from here nothing else would matter as long as he was beside you.Together, you could face anything.

Or at least that’s what you would tell yourself for now.

LET’S GOOOOO!

Warm sunlight streamed through the curtains causing your eyes to flutter open. The silence of early morning filling your apartment, soft chirping from the birds outside your window echoing through the open window. There's a slight breeze blowing through the room causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. You snuggle further into the warm abyss of your blankets.

A heavy arm drapes across your waist, pulling your body impossibly close to the warm body laying behind yours. Soft lips grazing against to your neck, gentle kisses being peppered across your neck and shoulder, causing a quiet sigh to leave your lips. Those lips, perfectly pink and plump, could cause any girl to have palpitations, but here they were softly pecking against your neck, causing you to have a mini heart attack as your heart pounded away in your chest.

“Morning baby.” He lets out gruffly causing tingles to shoot across your body. Holy fuck… it didn’t matter how many mornings you woke up beside him, his morning voice is the sexiest sound you’d ever heard.

It had been 2 weeks since you’d left the hospital after an almost 20 day stay. Noah had been at the hospital every day from the time visiting hours started until they would kick him out, though he was very persuasive and always managed to stay later than he was supposed to. You were pretty sure he even tried bribing the poor nurses at one point. Once you were finally released to go home he drove you to your apartment and had been there every single day since. When he left for work Jace would come over. Not that you were complaining, being waited on hand and foot was pretty nice if you had to admit it.

There weren’t enough words to express just how grateful you were to Noah and Jace for everything they’d done for you. Though both of them assured you time and time again that none of what happened was your fault, you still couldn’t help but feel guilty.

You roll over so you’re chest to chest with him, your legs tangling with his own. You gently scratch his calf with the tips of your toes. Those gorgeous brown eyes gazing into your own, his hand rubs against the tiny sliver of skin where your shirt had risen. Your breathing hitches as his hand slides gently under your T-shirt slowly trailing up your side, reaching higher and higher. His hand stalls, passing over the red, scaly, patch of skin forming your newly acquired scar as he gently rubs his thumb down the length of it. Tilting his head he rubs his nose gently against yours, lips hovering over yours. Your hand slides against his side, mimicking him moments earlier as your thumb slides against his matching scar. You felt guilty that he even had a scar, because of you his body would be permanently marked.

A sigh leaving his lips as he presses them softly against yours. His lips mix with your own as one of his warm hands cups your cheek, the other grasps your hip and he pulls you underneath him as he hovers over you.

Fluffy tendrils of hair brushing against your cheek as your hands run up the plains of his broad shoulders, muscles rippling against your touch. Your fingers run through the unruly curls, gripping them in your fingers. The warmth from his naked chest radiating over you. Perfectly tanned skin pressing against yours where he had pushed your shirt up to your chest. A soft hum pouring out of your mouth has Noah pulling back from your lips to run down your neck and across your collarbone.

“I love this you know?” He sighs. A lazy smile on his face. Damn that face, perfectly chiseled, spotted with adorable freckles and one that you had come accustomed to seeing every morning. You knew he couldn’t stay forever but you could dream right?

“Me too but, eventually you’re going to have leave me you know that right?” you question him. You both had been dreading this day for the last few weeks.

“Wha… why…. Baby, I don’t….” he stammers. Completely confused as to why you would even suggest such thing.

A small giggle escapes from you as he stumbles over his words.

“For movie promo?”

His eyes widen and he grimaces as he realizes that he jumped to a way different conclusion then you were getting on about. He pokes you in the side as you let a small chuckle leaning up closer to him. The muscle in his jaw ticks as you peck kisses along the underside of his jaw. His slight stubble scratching against your lips. Grazing your lips down the side of his neck, tongue poking out ever so often to taste his skin.

A small sigh falls from his lips, “ Yeah, I hate I have to go”.

You pull back from him and look at him incredulously.

“Noah. Babe, you’ve been here every single day since I got out of the hospital, you’re running yourself thin.”

It was true, between staying with you and doing things for his newest film he was exhausted and you both knew it.

He plops on his side, so he’s facing you, draping his arm across your waist, reaching for your hand. His large hands engulf yours, your fingers slide in the spaces between his fingers that you swear were made just for you.

“I know that but, I feel like when I wasn’t around you got hurt, I’m afraid something will happen when I leave”, He confesses. His eyes looking anywhere but yours.

“Babe…” you rolled your eyes. You gently grasp his scruffy chin and pull his face down to look at you. “Jace will be here, nothing is going to happen. Let’s be honest, he’s been mother hen since everything. If it’s not you here it’s him,” you laugh. “ Plus, it’s just for a few weeks and then you’ll be back yeah?” God, he hadn’t even left yet and you were longing for the next few weeks to go by quickly.

“Yeah I guess so,” he huffs, running a hand through his hair and burying his face in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses and nips where he lay. You lay your head against his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you could die right now and be the happiest you’d ever been.

You didn’t know what it was about Noah but your heart had never felt so full. Maybe it was the way he was always asking if you were okay, even if you just stubbed a toe. Maybe it was the way that when he looked at you it was like he was looking into your soul not just at you. Or Maybe, just maybe it was the fact that after everything you had been through up until this point he had never, not once, made you feel like a burden, in fact he had fussed at you when you even mentioned it being a bother to him to help you. It wasn’t just the big acts of kindness that made you fall in love with him, it was the tiny, almost unnoticeable things that made you fall for him. Like when he would he would help you brush the tangles out of your hair when your side hurt. When he would warm your towels in the dryer while you were in the shower. When he would kiss your forehead every. single. time. before you went to bed, even when he could barely hold his eyes open himself. You knew it was the tiny things, it was always the tiny things that added up to a lot of acts of love, you just had to look a little harder for them.

Your eyes drift to the flashing numbers on the clock beside your bed, 9:30 a.m. your heart thumps wildly in your chest.

Noah would be leaving this afternoon for 2 months to promote his newest film. You were nervous. The chewed off nubs you call fingernails were an attestment to that. It’s not that you didn’t trust Noah or even thought he would do something to hurt you. It’s the fact that for 2 months he would be around the world promoting this film while you were here, and once the movie hit you knew his career would be even bigger and that meant more time spent apart. You didn't mean to sound clingy or that you weren’t excited for him, but you had just gotten him back and you really didn’t want to have to let him go again. The fact that worldwide there would be women falling at his feet and at his every beck and call did not help the situation at all. How could they not love him? A tall, dark, muscular being that was sweet as hell underneath it all.. yeah they’ll be falling at his feet just like you are.

Noah’s thumb tugging your bottom lip away from your teeth brings you back to the present. You really wished he didn’t have to leave. For the last few weeks you had been in this bubble where it seemed nothing could touch you. Your life was peaceful with he who shall not be named being locked away and couldn't hurt you. Now with Noah leaving your little bubble was being popped and the reality that while you had to go back to school and Noah had to go around the world came crashing down. How would you make this work, could you even make this work? You were an average college student and he is a budding movie star. What happens when you can’t? All these questions fill your head.

Almost as if he senses what you’re think his fingers gently rub your temples, easing some of the tension pooling there. His nose grazes softly against yours.

“ Baby, I promise I will come back to you. ”

“ I know No.... ” you sigh. “ It’s just.. I don’t know I’ve never done a long distance thing.”

“ I know baby but we can make this work. I want to make this work.” His hopeful gaze bore into your eyes, making your heat race.

He gently grasps your chin, pressing his lips to yours.

“I love you.”

It had easily become your most favorite set of words. Those three tiny words sent you into a frenzy anytime they slipped from his lips.

“I love you too.”

You wanted nothing more than to make this work with him. You wanted to be the one he called at the end of a stressful day, who ran and hugged him after a long flight back home. You wanted to be the one for him. But, you couldn’t deny the dreadful feeling churning in your stomach, telling you the opposite.

Maybe you should just end it now, save you both the heartbreak. But looking at his hopeful eyes bearing into your own you knew you couldn’t. You would take months of your own heart breaking and being in pain if it meant sparing him a single minute of it. He had already done so much for you, you had to at least try to make this work.

As dread and doubt filled your head causing your breath to hinge, you thought to yourself that you didn’t know what this next chapter of your relationship held, you just knew that come hell or high water you would hang on with all your might to the man that had saved your life and captured your heart. If at the end of this you had to let him go so he could swim while you sank, you would gladly anyday, he deserved that much from you

This moment in time, Wrapped up in each other, sun softly beaming through the curtains, fingers grazing each other’s skins, soft kisses being pressed back and forth between lips and skin, was a moment that you would keep on repeat for the next few weeks as it was all you’d have of him.

It seemed perfect, laying there snuggled up to Noah, making promises for the next few weeks to come, so why did you feel like you were really saying goodbye?

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There we go my beautiful people! I am so, so, so incredibly sorry for this taking so damn long. In the past few months I’ve had a good bit of personal issues and mental health issues that I had to take care of and put this on hold for a little while. BUT that’s alright. I am back bitches! Going to be going through some requests this week and trying to push some writing out. Let me know what you guys though of part 10.. Only a few more parts to go! I already know the ending, now just to put it into words!

Thank you guys for being so patient and waiting, all the love I’ve received in my inbox is amazing. Thank you all so much! xoxo! Leave me some love and reblogs!

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thewhiterabbit42 · 6 years

Text

The Other Side

Pairings: AU!Gabriel x AU!Reader

Summary: Survival wasn’t all there was to life in the apocalypse, and you were lucky enough to understand this.

Word Count: 5628

Tags/Warnings: smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, edging, friends with benefits, sleeping with the enemy, secret / forbidden affair

Written for: Anon - kiss request - tripping over objects / furniture and @spnkinkbingo

Square Filled: Biting

You hated using the tunnels. They always felt cold, unnaturally so, and smelled the way you imagined a tomb would: damp, earthy, filled with stagnant air and the ever present possibility of entrapment. It wasn’t that you were claustrophobic, so much as you really disliked the idea of being put beneath the ground. Especially alone.

They were the only way to get in and out of the colony unnoticed, however, and discretion was key. Mostly because Bobby might blow a gasket if he knew just how often you left on your own, not to mention the aneurysm he'd get when he found out the reason behind it.

Thankfully, the passageway you needed was short, and before you knew it, a fresh breeze was once again nipping at your cheeks. The barest whisper of something trickled across your senses as your feet guided you down the path, causing the cool night air to fill your lungs at a faster rate.

Your pulse lost its steady rhythm, and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your head tilted slightly, your instincts kicking into overdrive, but your hand never drew the blade on which it rested. You were far from alarmed, even as the rustle of wings sounded directly behind you.

“You know, if I was one of my brothers, you’d be dead right now…”

“You know, if I was anyone else, you’d spend the rest of your morning in the principal's office for misuse of emergency exits.”

The early morning sun blinded you, making it impossible to see the figure waiting for you just outside the tunnel doors. Exhaustion clung to your mind, preventing the familiar voice from registering. You whirled, unsheathing your blade, your muscles readying to strike.

Recognition override your adrenaline at the sight of your best friend’s face.

“Jesus, Wes!” You clutched the weapon to your chest, as if that would calm the frantic beating of your heart. “That’s a good way to get yourself stabbed.”

“Is that anyway to greet someone bearing gifts?” He asked, immediately holding up an old, faded travel mug. You pursed your lips, tucking away your blade as you tried to even out your breathing. You were relieved he was the one catching you sneaking back in over the fact he’d prepared a peace offering.

Your eyes flicked down, curiosity brimming. “I suppose it would be awfully ungrateful not to accept.” Wryness lifted both your tone and the corner of your mouth as you took the mug from his hands.

“If I were you, I’d drink up. Bobby’s been waiting for you since dawn.”

Shit. You’d forgotten you’d asked to meet with him.

You glanced over to find an odd look on your friend’s face.

“What?” You resisted the urge to glance down the front of you and make sure nothing was compromised. You continued to hold his stare, noticing there was something different about it, something you were too tired to tease out.

There was more to Gabriel’s presence tonight. More tension, perhaps. More energy. Or maybe there was just more of him. It carried over into his touch, that something extra feeling awfully possessive as he grabbed you by the waist.

“Since I know you’re not stupid, I can only assume you either have something terribly wrong with your sense of self-preservation, or maybe, just maybe, you somehow knew it was me...”

It wasn’t quite suspicion that colored his tone, but you also wouldn’t call it concern. What was concerning to you, however, was how guarded he was. It was as if something was brewing inside him, something that was strong enough to churn everything he kept buried up toward the surface.

“I’m having a torrid love affair with my mortal enemy…which do you think it is?” You said dryly, hoping some humor might help diffuse whatever was going on.

“Hmmmm.” He sounded less than convinced, but as his hands slipped beneath your jacket, his focus shifted. Fingertips teased tiny circles along your skin, sending small sparks of excitement through your system.

You held your breath, concentrating on him and only him; the feel of his touch, the heat of his chest on your back, the way he smelled of different air and clean rain, suggesting he had come from someplace much further away. He was your escape, and you wanted nothing more than to become lost in him.

You felt yourself slipping away as he traced the tip of his nose down behind your ear, his breath unfurling warmly against the shell of it.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he ordered. You were tempted to make a remark, but that little extra edge to him had you doing what you were told. He placed something small and square on top of your tongue, and it only took a moment for a delectable combination of sugar and cocoa to soar across your taste buds.

“Oh —”

“— God, this - is this…” You stared at Wesley, wide-eyed. “Where the hell did you find whiskey?” The look you pinned him with really said who did you have to kill for this?

“Thought you’d like that,” he grinned, patting you on the shoulder before passing you. You stared at his back a few seconds, your brain unable to comprehend the magnitude of his gift. It took a few moments to recover, and you were thankful he was in front of you as you awkwardly shuffled to catch up.

Your moan was as decadent as the long lost flavor spreading inside your mouth.

“... you like that?” He murmured, nuzzling along the side of your neck as he allowed you time to savor the surprise.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had real chocolate. Candy, sweets, anything without real nutritional value was overlooked once the fighting began. Then, once everyone realized this was really the end, treats became so uncommon they surpassed the value of gold and silver. In some places, they had become the only valuable piece of currency.

Now they were as rare as toilet paper, and you couldn’t believe the things people were willing to do for a chocolate bar.

“What would you do for one?” Insinuation danced through his tone, and you finally turned around to greet him properly. What you saw, however, had you stilling.

Gabriel’s eyes glimmered in a kaleidoscope of sentiments and colors. Greens and golds vied for dominance against a backdrop of heat. He was beautiful. Breathtaking. Perhaps one of the few truly magnificent things left in this world.

And for whatever reason, he found you deserving of his time.

“I can’t - this is too much,” you insisted, holding the cup back up to him. “I don’t deserve this.”

Wes might have been your closest friend, but things like this went beyond bestie status. If anything, you should have been procuring him impossible items for looking out for you.

Especially when he had to know whatever you were doing outside the colony was at least seven shades of questionable if not outright forbidden.

He glanced sideways at you, and your brows pulled together beneath his scrutiny. You still weren’t able to get a pulse on him, which was strange. Normally, you could both tell where each others’ heads were at.

“Oh, don’t worry, there are strings attached,” he informed you. “You’d think if we took anything from the military, it’s that the whole don’t ask, don’t tell method doesn’t really work worth shit.”

You footsteps froze, your entire system lurching to a stop with them. “Wesley…”

You didn’t want to lie to him. You weren’t certain you could after all you’d been through together, but most of all, you didn’t want him to share the burden of your secrets.

As if sensing the weight behind things, his hands shot up in surrender. “You don’t have to tell me. In fact, the less I know right now, the better.”

It wasn’t hard to read between the lines. He was catching flak about you. Then again, when wasn’t he?

“You just need to promise me you’ll come back.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. The contact combined with a stare that was far more direct than usual had you floundering.

Unsure of what to do with his concern, you went straight to your family's specialty.

“If bribery of this caliber doesn’t convince me to, nothing will.” You slipped your arm through his, tugging him away from the main path and diverting your course toward a secluded hill that ran along the edge of the colony.

You never knew how to handle these moments. It was never easy seeing Gabriel for what he was. It only reminded you how completely different you were.

He was infinite, whereas you were nothing, an insignificant speck on the cosmic timeline that would eventually fade away. You never felt worthy, even if it only came down to him needing a body with which to find pleasure.

His eyes suddenly narrowed, and your forehead wrinkled down the center. It wasn’t until you blinked that you realized what the problem was. A drop of moisture slipped past the confines of your lashes, slowly trickling down your cheek.

You didn’t understand how he could move you to such emotions so quickly when you spent most of your days struggling just to feel. It was just another bewildering piece to the enigma that was Gabriel.

“What have I told you about that?” He chided, a juxtaposition of hard and soft forming between his disapproving look and the gentle way he brushed away the streak with his knuckles.

“What have I told you about going AWOL?” Bobby scolded, not bothering to turn around from his place at the edge of the overlook. You moved next to him, taking a large swallow from your mug as you avoided the cantankerous side-eye he sent you.

No wonder Wes had opted to wait for you at the bottom of the hill. There was more bear than man present this morning.

You knew better than to jump straight into anything when Bobby was like this, and you took some time to admire the view of the colony. Everything seemed ordinary on the surface. People ambled through the center, going about their business. The previous bustle had slowed, and the bodies weaving in and out of the structures took on an ambling, weighted shuffle.

His stare eventually settled on you, lips pulling thin with appraisal. “You look like this is the last place you need to be.”

“I’m fine.” It was an automatic answer, a mistake, one you didn’t realize until his gaze intensified. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

You knew it was better to give him something rather than stonewall him, and you hoped the amendment was enough to appease him.

“We have everything we need for it and then some: beds, linens, walls, protection… and yet it always seems to be one of the things shortest in supply.” He paused, his eyes scanning the grounds some more before he continued. “You still haven’t said where you were.”

You burst through the door to the supply shed, wincing as a thunderous crack echoed through the valley. It was the third time this year you’d damaged something. Bobby was going to be so pissed.

“Gabri-mmph,” his lips smothered yours, cutting off your protest.

Shhh you heard his voice in your mind. You want to alert the whole neighborhood we’re out here?

His mouth released yours, allowing you a brief reprieve for your burning lungs. An infuriating smile pressing against your skin as he teased his way down along your collarbone. His hands fisted the sides of your shirt, and you wished you’d remembered to fix the zipper on your jacket. The last thing you needed was to have to explain why you were traipsing around at the end of winter missing vital layers. Again.

“Fuck you,” you breathed, your fingers weaving through his long, wavy strands of hair. When he lunged for your throat, hungrily devouring your skin with teeth and tongue, you tugged in an attempt to keep him focused.

An amused, albeit dark, chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat. “That’s the plan, sweets.”

He captured your lips again, reigning in his ardor as he nudged you back through the small building. You stumbled over piles of wood, scrap metal, broken pieces of furniture that might yet still serve a purpose, and you had to cling to him just to remain upright.

Your luck eventually ran out, and your foot finally hit something that refused to give, sending you tumbling backwards so quickly even he wasn’t able to stop it. Pain flared along your spine, and once your surprise wore off you realized you’d fallen against an old bookcase.

It was as good a spot as any. Gabriel shrugged out of his jacket before running his hands beneath yours and pushing it over your shoulders. You let it drop to the ground, eyes riveted as he tugged his shirt over his head. His skin looked flawless in the moonlight filtering in through the windows, your gaze trailing up his lean, defined frame to the tousled, tawny locks hanging down around his face.

Perfection you thought, and the air left the room in a sudden rush.

“I needed some air,” It wasn’t a total lie. It just wasn’t the only thing you had needed.

Strike two Bobby’s face said as he gave you a long look.

“Different air?” He asked skeptically. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, doing your best to ignore the way he stared. You knew he didn’t have a clue about anything, or else he’d be confronting you.

“I just…” You fumbled for a better explanation, one that didn’t cross the careful lines you were trying to maintain between keeping him in the dark and outright lying to him. The latter didn’t sit well with you, but you had nothing else to offer him this morning.

Except maybe some of your whiskey, and there was no way that was happening.

“... needed some air,” you repeated, taking another sip and finally glancing up at him. You aimed for neutrality, hoping you could suppress how guarded you really were.

“One of these days, kid, you’re going to tell me what that means,” he said, finally letting the issue drop.

“One of these days, we’re finding a bed,” you insisted, your hands gripping the sides of the bookcase as you all but prayed the thing didn’t collapse on you.

Gabriel had ravaged the thing, sending pieces shattering in every direction in his haste before hoisting you up on the highest shelf left, ensuring he had a place to ravish you. The setup was far from sturdy, the entire frame creaking and wiggling with every movement. You did your best to stay still as he buried his head between your thighs, whereas he tried his damndest to get you to writhe as much as possible.

“God, you’re such an ass,” you moaned, your feet digging into his back to keep your hips from rocking into his face. You wished you could have the same effect on him, that you could make him dance to whatever tune you created, from fast-paced to slow to everything in between. Yet, it was always him playing your body while you simply went along with whatever symphony he orchestrated.

You wished you could tell him now. You wished Bobby could understand that you left the walls of the camp because there wasn’t enough inside of them anymore. Only he wouldn’t.

His first reaction would be to make sure you weren’t bewitched. Once convinced your mind had not been compromised, he’d move on to coercion, insisting there must be something the angel was holding over you. It would take him some time for his denial to wear off, but once it did, then he’d think you were a silly little girl in way over her head.

Or a complete dumbass.

You weren’t sure which would be worse.

“So… I can only imagine what you want to talk about,” he began. “We got angel attacks getting closer by the day. Outposts being discovered and overrun. They’ve fractured our communication lines with the outermost colonies. There’s that damn flu making its rounds, the fact that our last four supply runs came up all but empty, and I’m sure if we looked hard enough, we could even find a spy or two…”

In other words, you better not be there to waste his time.

“Subtle,” you remarked. “And while I understand you, and the others, have very important things to worry about, I would hope the happiness of your people would be among them.”

His eyes swung to you, hard and measured. This wasn’t the first time you’d picked this battle, and he wasn’t any more thrilled to be doing it than you were.

“Hate to say it, but it’s the apocalypse. Nobody’s supposed to be happy.”

You knew you were walking a fine line. You understood his priorities. He and the other leaders had an overwhelming burden to shoulder, but sometimes they lost sight of the things that went beyond crises and survival.

“Should I quote you on that?”

You could practically feel the burn of his stare searing through the side of your head.

“We’re doing the best we can with what we have.” End of discussion.

You hated when he tried to shut you down, like you were still some naive child with no idea what life was like beyond the walls.

“Are we?” You demanded. At best, the place was a refugee camp, rather than the rebuilding of civilization they claimed. Everything about it screamed temporary. Many of the structures remained open. Only the sick, injured, and most vulnerable were afforded four walls and a roof. The rest of you made do with improvised lean-tos and tied down canvas, and even you had to admit to feeling a little salty that some of your supplies saw better quarters than the rest of you.

You made do because you had to. Because three figureheads was enough to keep a pulse on the entire place, but not nearly enough to keep ushering people forward. Even with your help, with Wes’ and a handful of others, the tide had grown stagnant over the last several months. People were drowning, and nothing good ever came from feeling like one’s head was trapped beneath the water while the surface drifted further and further away.

The only reason you weren’t losing your mind was because you had an archangel that had no problem helping you misplace it.

Fuck, he was so good at this. That tongue of his knew just how to move, just how much pressure to use, just what pace to set to get you to unravel. His fingers moved within you, and they, too, knew exactly when to curl and hit that sweet spot. You’d never known any man to pay this much attention to what you liked, and you wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he wasn’t one.

He tried to draw it out for you, bringing you right to the brink before easing you back again. It was amazing and agonizing all at once.

“Gabriel,” you pleaded, hands raking through his hair, nails scraping across his scalp as another wave of pleasure rolled through you. You rocked yourself forward, ignoring the precarious groaning of the wood, unable to see past anything but an increasingly blinding need for him to pull that final stitch and let you come undone.

“Sing for me my little songbird,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky with arousal.

“Can’t,” you panted. It was risky enough just being there with him. You didn’t need some half-cocked night patrol bursting in because the archangel needed his ego stroked.

Refusing him was clearly a challenge, his fingertips stroking your g-spot with more vigor. Your head dropped back against the wall, a half-strangled moan catching in your throat.

“Gabriel—“” your argument cut short with a whine as he all but stopped, his touch slow, feather-light -- maddening -- and you watched as your release slipped away once again.

“You will sing,” he insisted, his face breaking away from your sex to nibble tantalizingly along your inner thigh. “Even if it takes me all night to convince you to…”

“I have all day to talk,” you reminded Bobby. “Do you?”

You glanced back down at the activity below, taking another long pull from your mug. You let the liquid roll around in your mouth, savoring the taste, allowing him time to decide how he wanted this to play out.

“If you got a point, then make it.”

You nodded, but said nothing, eyes riveted to the instructional building where all the kids spent their days learning useful things. Trades. Survival skills. Tactical strategies. How to properly handle an angel blade.

“Listen,” he rounded, patience reaching its limit in the steady flush creeping up his neck. “We got five graves that need to be dug this morning, so I suggest --”

You held up a finger to him, cutting him off. “Just a moment.”

A few seconds later, a set of doors swung open and everyone between the ages of six and sixteen came filing out. Gaunt faces peered out from beneath worn and weathered layers, bodies shuffling obediently to the area a handful of adults were shepherding them. This was their time to take a break from their studies, to be children, and yet, nothing about their movements suggested they were.

There were no bursts of laughter, no lighthearted giggles or shouts, no excitement to be free from such menial tasks. There wasn’t an ounce of playfulness within the group, only solemnity and silence that was mirrored by the adults overseeing them.

“What do you see down there?” You questioned.

Bobby was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“Point made,” he conceded. “Some days it’s like half of them already think they’re dead.”

“Can you blame them?” You made a wide sweeping gesture to the entire grounds. Everything had a purpose, a function, just like everyone in the colony had a role. Some days it felt like you were all just cogs in one big machine that did nothing but demand you keep running regardless of all the death and discomfort.

“It may not be paradise, but it’s the best we can do.”

“Is it?” You pressed, unwilling to let the same cliche arguments drive the conversation. “They need a way to let off steam. Some form of entertainment, an escape, something.”

“I’ll get right on putting in a jungle gym after I bury our dead and explain to their children why their parents died from something a few Tylenol could have fixed.” Sarcasm bled heavily into his words, and you could tell you were losing him. “You want to help these people? Find us some medical supplies. Build us a clinic that doesn’t kill as many people as it helps because we can’t sanitize it properly. Guarantee us one god damn supply run that doesn’t end with somebody not coming home!”

He had a valid point, but it only strengthened your argument that much more.

“I’m not saying we ignore those things. What I’m suggesting is we don’t overlook them. Lift the sanctions on what people can bring back,” you insisted. “Simple things like books, magazines, porn.”

Actual liquor so you didn’t have to drink things that tasted like they were one bad batch away from blinding you.

Stars overlaid your vision, though it wasn’t quite how you anticipated. The bookshelf emitted a final, dying groan before giving beneath your weight. Gabriel lunged forward, pinning you to the frame with such speed that your head slammed unceremoniously back against it.

“Shit,” he muttered, fingers hastily tapping the side of your head. “Don’t check out on me yet, sweetheart.”

The ache in your skull immediately faded, and he waited for you to lock your legs around his waist before shifting your weight entirely onto him.

“Can we do things my way for once?” You asked as he moved you both away from the new pile of kindling.

He made a non-committal noise, turning to assess what other options were available for you both to get back to business.

“You know, where we don’t break anything, myself included?”

“Ha, ha, chuckles.” Sarcasm dripped from his words, though gold was more heated than anything when it pinned you beneath a look. “I have yet to hear any complaints.”

That’s because you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Unless…” He prompted, almost daring you to say something to contrary.

“No complaints,” you confirmed, stepping down to the floor. “Though it would be nice if you let me lead for a change.”

He was always the one calling the shots. For once, you wanted to be the one in charge.

Your hands smoothed up his chest before nudging him backward, and his brow shot up in a clashing combination of warning and curiosity. He allowed you to guide him toward the center of the room until something pushed into the back of his thighs. You reached behind him, ripping a sheet off an old, worn desk before playfully shoving him on top of it.

“Permission to climb aboard the Gabriel Express?”

He rolled his eyes so hard he must have pulled something, but there was no mistaking the twitch of his lips or the way some of the darkness receded from his stare.

“Do you actually have anything important to discuss, or are we planning to ride the unicorn and sparkles train straight into the station?” Bobby demanded after you went another heated round with each other.

The knuckles around your mug turned white, and you realized no amount of good whiskey was going to let you keep your cool with him today.

It was like talking to a brick wall. Nothing you said made a difference, but you forged ahead, unwilling to let it drop this time. The more you debated, the more you realized the only common ground between you was the sheer stubbornness you both possessed. Any minute now, a bell was going to go off and you were going to be ushered into your separate corners.

That, or one of you was simply going to murder the other one.

“What's the point of living if all we're going to do is survive?!” You shouted, your control dissolving as your words echoed across the valley.

One day you were going to make him lose control, but tonight was not that night.

He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, give it up, his hand tight in your hair, baring your throat when he wanted it, dragging your mouth back to him on a whim, keeping your lips locked tight until you thought you might suffocate beneath his hunger.

He let you set the pace, but the way he sat stock still beneath you resonated as more of a power move. Be careful what you wish for, sweets, that smirk of his whispered as he made you do all the work.

You took it as a challenge, doing everything you could to make him regret that decision, whether it was rising up and taking him in at a painfully slow rate or bringing him close to the edge before backing off the same as he had with you.

Bit by bit, he started splintering, the need beneath his hands increasing as he tried to undo you. You focused on the burning ache of your muscles, refusing to allow him to drag you over the edge yet. A flush spread through the length of you, sweat breaking out across your skin. Whose resolve would give first, you wondered?

Your face filled with color, less from your outburst and more from the way Bobby looked on the verge of shattering.

“Is that how you feel?” The quiet uncertainty beneath his words didn’t suit him. He was the one with the unapologetic loud mouth. He was the one filled with anger and bite. You were supposed to be the one that took the edge off things.

“Bobby --”

“Don’t Bobby me, young lady. You tell it to me straight.” His face was all stern lines and gravity, and you suddenly felt like the time you’d gotten caught beneath the gym bleachers, not only with some boy but the wrong one.

“No,” you told him. “I don’t because it’s enough that I have people who take care of me.”

You never knew how often Gabriel had your back. When you came, screaming his name and clenching so hard on his cock even he couldn’t hold back a cry, someone should have come running.

No one did.

You weren’t in any state of mind to question why, but, unbeknownst to you, he’d undone just enough of the grounds’ warding before you arrived so he could soundproof the building. He’d never admit to it, and if you ever did ask, he’d simply pass it off to unusually accommodating acoustics.

Had you known, it would have made losing your standoff a little less grating. Your pride was used to it, though, and begging him to fuck you when your legs began to tremble wasn’t really anything new.

He stilled, hands moving behind your thighs to help you ride out your pleasure exactly the way you wanted. When you were done, they moved up your backside, helping himself to a generous handful of your curves. He rolled his hips into you, giving slow, lazy thrusts that buried him in you to the hilt.

“You should see your face when you come,” he rasped, mouth ravenous along your neck. That extra something within his presence returned, removing the chill from the air and causing it to swelter.

You couldn't imagine the view was as nearly as magical as he made it sound, but who were you to argue with someone that much older than you?

“So make me again,” you challenged, emboldened by whatever was causing his energy to spill out so palpably. Your teeth sank into his lip, drawing it away from his mouth in a wholly uncharacteristic and ungentle way.

He grunted, fingertips digging into your waist before he started pounding away at you in earnest.

And make you come again, he did. With one leg over his shoulder, then both, and lastly on your back when your legs could barely move, hitting so hard and deep that every thrust was followed by your sharp cries of satisfaction.

When it was finally his turn, his eyes flashed bright with flames of gold, a gutteral noise tearing through him so fiercely the vibrations carried over onto your body. You yelped as teeth unexpectedly sank into your shoulder so hard you were surprised when there wasn’t any blood.

“Fuck,” he growled, collapsing, the weight of his body trapping you against the desk.

Instead of leaving right away, he lingered, leaving himself buried inside of you as your breaths began to slow. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, only that it didn’t take long. He never stayed more than a handful of minutes after, and you were glad not to be conscious of it. Every time left, you felt empty, physically and ways that ran so deep you didn’t want to think about them.

You awoke a handful of hours later to ray of light spilling in through the dusty windows. You were already dressed and covered in a dusty quilt that could have been tucked away in some obscure box, though you knew it hadn’t, and you might have questioned whether the night had really happened if he hadn’t left a few gifts behind for you to remember it by.

“But other people aren’t as lucky, and some people just need more.” You paused, watching two individuals square up against each other over what amounted to a shoulder brush. “Some people need to get laid or take matters into their own hands.”

Bobby made a face. “Not much standing in the way of that.”

You fixed him with a look that said there’s plenty.

“Books. Magazines. Porn,” you repeated. “Start there, and I guarantee you'll see a difference.”

Shouts rose up from below, and you knew it was only a matter of time before fists started flying. You frowned, knowing you both should get down there before the two idiots broke each others’ noses again.

“You’d think they’d just learn their lesson and steer clear of each other,” he sighed, as tired of their antics as you were.

You smirked. “Maybe they would if they had some Playboys.”

He winced. “For the love of anything good left in this world, can we please stop talking about porn?!”

You stepped back, attempting to hide your mirth as you took one last sip from your cup. You turned to head down the path, but before you could, he grabbed you by the arm.

“You’d tell me if you ever felt that way, right?” Blue eyes pinned you beneath the look, the one reserved to scare the shit out of anyone dumb enough to mess with you, and these rare moments in which he needed you to believe he actually could see through you so you wouldn't lie.

You slipped your hand into your pocket, an ache flaring across your shoulder as fingers came in contact with something. The lining to your jacket muffled the sound of the crinkling wrapper as your thumb skimmed over the nearly whole chocolate bar, pausing to worry over the small indent where a piece was missing. It brought a smile to your face as much as the bruise and warm whiskey in your belly.

“Don’t worry, dad,” you assured him. “I’ll be just fine.”

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