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pagesoflauren · 2 years

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House of Stone (1/5)

feat. professor!Andy Barber x student!single mom!reader

Premise: Spin-off/sequel to Wooden Façade; Settling into his new life as a bachelor, Andy is helping his brother Ari prepare for his wedding to their mother's former nurse. Between wedding planning and teaching, you enter his life and your eccentric one-year-old daughter catches his attention.

Warnings: mentions of sudden deaths, divorce, familial conflicts, spousal conflicts, pregnancy, and Parkinson's disease; Laurie Barber slander; teacher-student friendship; romantic/sexual tension; awkward and cringey moments; blind dates/blindsiding siblings (Ari is a menace to Andy); Andy wears glasses and is a hot professor

A/N: Important to note that the events of Defending Jacob do not occur before, during, or after this series. Andy and Laurie are divorced and Jacob lives with Laurie.

Thank you as always to @eightcevanscentral

Read Wooden Façade here

Main Masterlist

“Ari, I hope you realize we’ve been talking about ties for the past forty-five minutes,” Andy deadpans, still holding his green-colored grading pen between his fingers. In his other hand, he holds up his phone so that he can clearly see the different options in front of his brother as he facetimes him from the store.

“Can you blame me?” comes Ari’s reply, “I have no fuckin’ clue what I’m doing.”

“You’re looking for the one that speaks to you.”

“Ties don’t talk.”

“That’s not–” Andy clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“A dumbass that’s getting married,” Ari says, switching from the back camera to the front camera.

“God help the bride.”

“Hey!”

“You know what I meant,” Andy laughs. “Are you sure she didn’t give you specific options for which one to buy?”

Andy’s treated to an unflattering view of his brother as Ari moves his phone down to get a better look at the screen. The camera turns off and Andy can hear the sound of Ari’s finger tapping heavily against the screen.

“She just said get one that’s ‘cabernet.’ Is that a type of brand?”

Andy facepalms. “No, that’s a shade of red. A dark red. Which, given that your wedding is in December, makes sense.”

The camera turns on and Andy can see straight into Ari’s nose.

Andy makes a sound of disgust, “You need to start bringing handkerchiefs with you.”

Ari adjusts how he’s holding the phone and turns the camera to face the table with all his options. “Nobody asked you to look, Andy.”

“Nobody asked me, but I wasn’t given a choice.”

Andy watches Ari pick up three ties that he thinks are the right shade.

“You think any of these would work?”

Tilting his head, Andy figures they’re a good fit. “Probably. Maybe you should just buy all three and see what the missus thinks.”

His brother hums.

“Are you making that stupid face that you always do when you think of her?”

“Maybe.”

Andy gags exaggeratedly.

“Shut up,” Ari hisses.

Rolling his eyes, Andy rebuttals, “You know I’m kidding.” Then, he changes the subject. “Anyway, those are good options. And you’ll know what she thinks when you get home.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, either she’ll tell you which one is the best or she’ll say the both of you will have to go back to the store together and she’ll tell you which tie you’ll wear.”

“You’re right.”

Andy changes the subject quickly. “Well, on that note, I should sign off. I have class in fifteen minutes so I should head over there.”

Ari flips the camera to show his face and say goodbye to his brother. When they hang up, Andy puts his phone down and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he sighs before opening one of the side drawers of his desk and pulling out his glasses.

They were new, something he had to take on after his last trip to the ophthalmologist who had told him that the long hours of reading and sitting in front of a computer were doing a number on his vision. She had stated the glasses were a middle ground between compensatory and preventative.

However, Andy looked at them as a constant reminder of how much his life had changed in the past year.

His wife and son are mostly absent, his brother is soon to be married, and his mother still progressing through her illness.

Shaking his head and setting the frames on his nose, he gathers his materials for class, stuffing them into his work bag and slinging it over his shoulder, his laptop tucked into his elbow. He shuts off the light and locks his office behind him, making his way down to the large lecture hall that is far too vast for his evening class.

- - - - -

Your cousin calls your name as you try to spoon another serving into your daughter’s mouth.

“It’s 6:15,” she says.

“Oh, crap,” you sigh, flustered as you set the spoon on the saucer for it to rest.

Ivy has a terrible habit of reaching for her utensils if you leave them within arm’s reach of her, leading to globs of food flying in any direction for you to clean up.

“She just has this bowl and some milk–I think it’s still warm, you might have to heat it up again. Let me know how she goes down and–”

“Call if anything happens,” she finishes for you, handing you your water bottle, already filled up. “I got it.”

“Thank you, Winnie.” You kiss her cheek, then turn to your daughter. “Mommy loves you so much, Ivy,” you say softly to her. You kiss her chubby face, heart squeezing at the little giggles that erupt from her. “Only a few more months and I won’t have to leave,” you promise.

You know she can’t understand you, but at this point, you say it because it comforts you to tell her.

Saying goodbye one last time before shutting the door behind you, you climb into your car and drive to the university campus.

You never liked leaving in the evening. You never liked working during the day, either. You had imagined things going so differently, but life had other plans.

Troy was planning to propose, a last-ditch effort to get the both of you back in the good graces of your extremely conservative family. Neither of you intended to start having children until after you had graduated and he had gotten a higher-paying position at the company he was working for. But when the tests came back positive and were confirmed by ultrasounds, the two of you found yourselves scrambling for ways to build a home for an unborn child.

He died before any of the real planning could have started. The holidays had just ended and it was his last weekend off before he had to return to work. When he hit his head really hard after slipping in the shower, you had suggested going to the hospital to be safe. A friend from the university in the nursing program had told you unchecked head injuries were silent killers.

Insisting he was fine, he continued about his day, cooking dinner for both of you and watching a film to end the night.

He was cold in the morning and you tried to wake him up, but his eyes never opened again.

After the funeral, his mom gave you the engagement ring he had rush-ordered to her house. It was supposed to come before Christmas, but when it didn’t, he had said he would propose on Valentine’s Day.

It didn’t help when your parents iced you out, and the majority of your extended family cut contact with you as well.

Your aunt and your cousin kept in touch, supporting you throughout your pregnancy and bereavement. Your aunt put you up in a small, two-bedroom apartment she had previously been renting to students for the nearby university. She didn’t charge you anything, telling you to focus on saving your money to help support your baby.

You had decided to defer your education until after giving birth, finding a job at the DA’s office as a receptionist to make some money so that you could afford some baby essentials and maternity clothes.

When Ivy arrived, your world was turned upside even more (if that was possible). Still, your duo of relatives were at your side. When your maternity leave was up, your aunt took her during the day to watch her at the daycare she directed. Then, in the evenings when you had class, your cousin took over finishing up dinner, giving her a bath, and putting her down to sleep.

Every day came with new challenges, but things also felt easier and you felt less alone. School was distracting, work was somewhat rewarding, and Ivy was happy.

You had determined a long time ago that she would never experience anything remotely close to the loneliness and sadness you felt.

Finding a parking spot in a decently-lit area, you gather your things and walk into the building with the designated lecture hall.

It was far too big for your class; there were only ten other students in this section with you, yet for some reason, you all were placed in a massive lecture hall. Your professor didn’t even bother turning on the lights for the back half of the classroom, trying to prevent students from sitting all the way in the back and getting a nap in.

“Hi, Professor Barber,” you greet him as he sets up his computer at the podium.

He nods at you, “Evening, Miss Y/L/N.”

You sit in your usual seat in the second row, the third one from the left aisle. It’s in the middle, but not too centered where you make uncomfortable eye contact with Professor Barber as you look up at his slides.

You get settled, opening up your note-taking software on your computer and setting your phone to silent. As you place your water bottle next to your laptop for easy access, Professor Barber announces that he’s going to begin.

- - - - -

You open and close your fists, feeling the nervous tension in your arms as you watch Ivy play on her mat in the middle of the living room.

Winnie is sick; a bad case of the flu, your aunt had told you. She would need to take care of her in the evening, leaving you with nobody to watch your daughter.

Professor Barber had made it clear that last-minute absences wouldn’t be tolerated. One of your classmates hadn’t come to class for two weeks straight. When he returned, your professor immediately told him to leave and take the class next semester.

“Maybe then you’ll understand that this profession has no room for bullshit.”

You had gripped your pen tight that night, making a note in your planner to never be late and always let him know ahead of time if you were going to be absent.

It’s a unique circumstance, you realize. If you explain the situation, maybe he would be lenient this time.

Bringing your laptop to the living room to better monitor your daughter, you log in to your student account and write an email to Professor Barber.

- - -

Andy’s computer chimes as he receives an email. Finishing his note in the margin of a student’s paper, he sets down his pen and looks at his inbox.

He recognizes the name. You’re normally on time, you ask insightful questions. You sit in the second row and always take notes. You have a good standing in his class and, according to his colleagues, you’re doing well in the program.

You don’t reach out often, other than to ask an occasional clarifying question late at night, probably when you’re studying.

He opens the email.

Hi Professor Barber,

My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m in your Wednesday night Children’s Rights class.

I’m aware of your no-tolerance policy for late-notice absences, but I’m in a very difficult circumstance at the moment. I have a one-year-old daughter

You’re a mom? Andy would’ve never guessed.

He continues reading.

I have a one-year-old daughter and my evening babysitter is sick, so I won’t be able to come to class today since I have to take care of her.

Is it possible for me to attend another section during the day? I can try to request time off from work. Please let me know what my options are to succeed in your class after this setback.

Best,

Y/N

Andy bites the inside of his cheek. He understands the struggle of fulfilling commitments to work while also looking after a child all too well.

Even with Laurie being a stay-at-home mom that would look after Jacob, he couldn’t shake the paternal instinct of wanting to be there to help his son, even if it was just a little cold.

He doesn’t want you to have to deal with taking time off work–he can only imagine what kind of hoops you might have to jump through to get time off at the last minute to attend his Friday morning section of the class.

In response, he offers a suggestion.

Hi Miss Y/L/N,

Thank you for reaching out and letting me know your situation.

I wonder, would you feel comfortable bringing your daughter to class tonight? I will turn on the lights at the back of the classroom to allow both of you to sit there and have all the space you need.

Let me know if this is possible. If not, we will discuss other options.

Andrew Barber, LL.M., J.D.

Professor of Law

Boston University

He sits back for a moment then returns to grading. After a few minutes, his computer chimes again.

Hi Professor Barber,

Bringing my daughter to class is possible, yes. But I just worry about her getting fussy and interrupting. Are you sure you would be okay if she joined me tonight?

Thank you,

Y/N

He replies quickly.

Miss Y/L/N,

I would be more than happy to have your daughter as a guest tonight. And please feel free to bring whatever you need in order to keep her comfortable. If I can help in any way, let me know.

See you tonight,

Andy deletes his standard email signature, opting to sign the email with his initials in an attempt to keep the conversation light. He doesn’t want to give the impression that he thinks himself above you.

You’re a parent; he is, too. Who was he to deny you chances to properly take care of your child?

- - - - -

You’re weighed down by a lot of things.

Your backpack rests heavily on your shoulders and Ivy’s stroller–stocked with plenty of supplies for you to give her to keep her occupied during your nearly three-hour-long lecture for the evening is difficult to push through campus.

Your usual route to your lecture hall is changed; you have to use the elevators on the far side of the building instead of the stairs that will take you right to the door. All the while, you try to keep your nerves down, keeping calm so that maybe Ivy will be calm throughout the evening.

As you enter the classroom, you garner a few strange looks from your classmates. Professor Barber greets you, inviting you to park the stroller by the door as he walks to the light switch panel, flipping up the last two switches to turn on the lights at the back of the classroom as he promised in his email.

“Take your time to get settled,” he tells you, voice gentle and slow. “I shortened the lecture tonight to adjust for any extra time you might need.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, catching your breath after your trip from your car to the classroom and trying to dampen your anxious emotions.

You feel eyes on you as you grab Ivy’s bag of toys and food, slinging it over your shoulder and uncovering her seat so you can pick her up and carry her to the back row of the classroom.

She’s quiet, looking around at the new environment. One of your classmates coos at her and waves, and she waves back.

Instead of individual desks, the lecture hall has rows of long tables with all the chairs facing the front of the room. You decide it’s best for Ivy to sit on top of the table next to your workspace, placing a thick blanket so that she can sit or lay comfortably. You give her a shape toy to play with–one that doesn’t make any noise or light up.

When she seems settled, you take out your supplies for class, then look up to meet Professor Barber’s expectant gaze at the bottom of the lecture hall.

You give him a timid thumbs up and he announces he’s going to get started.

The class goes well for the first twenty minutes, then Ivy seems to fuss and you switch out her shape toy for a stuffed animal. It keeps her occupied until she tries to start typing on your computer.

“Ivy, no,” you whisper, placing her back on the blanket and giving her another stuffed animal.

She tries again, little hand reaching for the keyboard but you stop her in time.

“Ivy, please,” you try to tell her, but you know she doesn’t understand. She begins to whine, drawing everyone’s eyes up to you and you feel your face heat up. You can hear Professor Barber’s voice trail off mid-sentence.

You swear under your breath, heart racing as you try to find another toy but she insists on reaching for your keyboard.

Her whining gets louder and her eyes begin to water and you know a meltdown is coming. There’s no way you can gather everything and leave before she goes nuclear.

You hear footsteps coming up the steps to where you’re seated, looking up and catching a glimpse of your professor coming toward you.

He’s going to kick you out. Fuck.

“Is she okay?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m sorry, professor. I’m just going to go–”

“May I?” he points to her, still crying and pushing against your hands as she pursues your computer.

“Um…yes? What are you…?”

He turns her easily, picking her up under her arms and lifting her up above his head.

Ivy stops crying when he brings her down, then up again.

Then, she laughs.

You watch incredulously as he repeats his actions, hearing her giggles grow louder and louder. He smiles too, eyes crinkling under the lenses of his glasses.

He settles her on his side, supporting her bottom well with one arm. Then, he grabs the small towel you had placed on the blanket and slings it over his shoulder where her head might rest.

You realize he’s done this before, then you wonder if he’s a father.

Professor Barber looks at you, still smiling. “I can hold her, you keep taking notes.” Then, he turns to face the rest of the class, some people just staring blankly, others smiling, and others using the small interlude as an opportunity to go on their phones. “Now, as I was saying, when collaborating with a social worker, it’s important to…”

His voice trails off in your mind as you just focus on the image of him retreating down the stairs with your daughter on his arm, completely content as he continues his lecture.

At the bottom of the lecture hall, he stands next to the podium, swaying and bouncing a little. Ivy seems to enjoy it, completely fixated on his face.

She presses her hand into his beard, earning some laughs from him and your classmates. You’re horrified when she grabs his glasses, but everyone laughs again, and some people coo. He takes them from her and puts them back on, only for her to grab them again.

Eventually, he relents, letting her play with them for the rest of the lecture.

Towards the end, you notice Ivy’s body beginning to relax as she leans against his shoulder. Your professor grabs his glasses from her and places them on top of the podium, readjusting her so she’s better supported as she falls asleep.

“That’s all I have for tonight; have a good Thanksgiving break, travel safely, and come back ready to finish the semester.”

You rush to gather your things, practically running down the stairs.

“I…” you begin, then stop because you don’t know where to begin. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble,” he brushes you off, still rocking her even in her sleep. “Can I walk you to your car?” he asks.

“Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I insist if it’ll help,” he shakes his head.

“I’m sure you’re eager to get home,” you argue weakly, really not wanting to bother him further.

He practically babysat while lecturing. He clearly doesn’t mind, but you feel as if you’ve inconvenienced him regardless.

“I don’t have any classes tomorrow,” he reassures you. “I don’t mind.”

You huff a laugh, “I guess I shouldn’t argue with you…you were the ADA, after all.”

He laughs too and your face heats up as you purse your lips to hide your smile.

- - -

Andy carries your backpack as you push Ivy’s stroller, the November air chilly as the two of you walk to your car.

“I can’t thank you enough, Professor Barber,” you sigh after buckling Ivy into her seat while he places your backpack in the trunk, then puts the baby bag in.

He begins to collapse the stroller.

“Oh, I can do that, you’ve done enough.”

“Nonsense,” he dismisses you, folding it and placing it next to your other things. He shuts the door softly to not disturb your still sleeping daughter. “Happy to help.”

“I can’t express how grateful I am for all this,” you say, realizing you’re repeating yourself. “It’s a big help. And you didn’t have to do any of it–”

“Of course I did,” he shrugs. “I know the whole parenting deal. It’s a challenge.”

You smile, “How old is yours?”

“He’s sixteen now.”

“Oh, that’s a fun age,” you remark. “Ivy’s only one and she’s already got a big personality. I can’t imagine what she’ll be like when she gets to that age. What’s it been like?”

Andy purses his lips and swallows.

Truth is, he doesn’t know much about his son. Not since Laurie moved out and he went with her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”

When he looks back at your face, he can see the guilt in your eyes and he shakes his head. “No, I…” he begins. The words never come to him; how can even begin to delve into the inner workings of his family falling apart?

“It’s complicated.”

A look of sympathy comes over your face. “I can empathize.”

He feels his eyebrows furrow in confusion and curiosity. What does that mean?

“Um, I should probably head home,” you say, using your thumb to point at your car. “I’m not as lucky as you; I have an early start tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you again, professor. Happy Thanksgiving,” you smile, going around to the driver’s side of your car.

“My pleasure. Any time you need to bring her, just bring her. She was great to have in class.”

“You may regret saying that,” you joke. “Goodnight, Professor.”

“Goodnight.”

He stands there like an idiot in the middle of the parking lot as the cold bites at his body, making him shiver as he watches you drive away.

He had noticed you from the beginning, your quiet, respectful demeanor and great work ethic made you stand out against your other classmates. Now, having met your daughter, it unlocked a side of him he was forced to stow away when his family fell apart.

He realizes maybe this is what his father felt when he left; there’s a void where Jacob once was, something that Ivy seemed to fill.

Shaking his head, he reminds himself of the university policy: he’s faculty, you’re a student. It wouldn’t be appropriate.

As he makes his way to the other side of campus to the faculty parking lot, he can’t shake the stirring in his stomach. He has to press it down and push it away, no matter how much he wants to convince himself that his rapidly growing fondness for you and your daughter is platonic.

His fondness for you was never platonic to begin with.

Permatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou @bangtan-serendipity @lovemarvelousfics @rainbowkisses31 @richonne4life @damnndeanndamnn @meetmeatyourworst @tinyplanet-explorer @vivien-1211 @unknownmystery22 @nerdygirl8203 @xoxabs88xox @mariaenchanted @gotnofucks @denisemarieangelina @myoxisbroken @kelbabyblue @pspice639 @maynay43 @just-another-wretched-egg @jennmurawski13 @avantgardium-leviosa @random-butterfly @rachelderivia @kenzieam @bluemusickid @asiaaisa77 @angrybirdcr @inactivewhore @velvetcardiganbucky @madbaddic7ed @mysweetlittledesire @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @buckymydarlingangel @mayasreadingnook

Chris tag: @onetwo3000 @patzammit @astheworlddturns @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @maeleeme @tvckerlance @thiskindahotkindamusic @fizzahocleirigh @marantha @justile

Wooden Facade Taglist: @ghotifishreads @buckysteveloki-me @blackwidownat2814 @wsoldat @sn0wpiercer @aynanasstuff @fluffysmutmnstr @emerald-evans @abbatoirablaze @justalonelyslytherin

#Andy Barber #Andy Barber x reader #professor!Andy Barber x student!single mom!reader #Andy Barber fanfiction #Andy Barber fanfic #Andy Barber fluff #chris evans character #Defending Jacob fanfiction #House of Stone #ficsofpagesoflauren

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strawberrysturniolo · 4 months

Note

can you pleaseeeee do a chris sturniolo x fem reader where she invites him to meet her family? maybe she has a big family and he’s a little nervous to impress them all? i hope that doesn’t that dumb <33

meeting the family // bf!chris

super soft chris

“Baby?” my boyfriend’s voice calls from our shared bed.

I’m standing in the bathroom, drying my face with a towel while he scrolls through his phone. “Yes?”

“What time are you parents getting in today?”

Chris has been overloaded with anxiety about meeting my family since we started dating months ago. I had moved to LA for college, stumbled into Chris through mutual friends, and with him knowing that I have family on the opposite coast that he has been able to get out of having the awkward first interaction with for months, he’s beginning to panic now that it’s coming up.

He has no real reason to worry though. My parents have always been pretty casual and free to let me do what I want, make my own mistakes. But Chris was never a mistake, and while he’s paranoid about them liking him, I have plenty of confidence that today will go well.

They’re flying in from my hometown to visit me over a short break I have from school. I was flying back home so much that they decided they wanted to come to the west coast to see me for a change.

“2, but they’re Ubering to their hotel so my sister can sleep.”

My sister, who is 4, was, in the nicest way, a complete and total freak accident.

I was an only child my entire life, and when my sister popped out, our age gap was so evident that I would often get asked if I was a single teenage mom when I would take her to the store with me.

Their day of traveling with her must have been hell. It’s rough enough to go from coast to coast as is, but with a whiny 4-year-old who just wants to sleep the whole time but probably can’t find comfort on the plane, I doubt it was peaceful.

I can hear the bed creak a bit as Chris gets up and stumbles into the bathroom. His hair is a mess, curls in every direction. His eyelids are heavy, and he drops his head on my shoulder to show me just how exhausted he is. His swollen lips kiss my neck as his arms wrap around my waist. He smiles at me through the mirror, places another kiss to my cheek, then turns around to the shower, turning on the water.

“You feeling any better about the big introduction?” I ask, earning a groan in response.

“Are you trying to make me feel more nervous?”

“I’m trying to make you feel better.”

He peels his shirt off and tosses it to the ground. “I’m happy to be meeting them, but no, I’m still scared shitless.”

While he showered, I talked to my mom to coordinate our plans for the rest of the day. By the time he was back to our room, our day had been decided.

“My parents are going to Uber back to their hotel so my sister can take a nap, and then we’re going to take them to dinner,” I relay the plans back to him.

He nods as he puts on a fresh shirt and pants. “Sounds good.”

We go about the rest of our day before heading to the hotel my family will be spending the next few days at. Chris’ hand taps the wheel nervously. I offered to hold his hand, but he insisted that he was too worked up to feel comfortable holding mine, as his hand was probably too sweaty.

I couldn’t help but find it adorable how much he cared. I knew he really had nothing at all to be worried about. The idea of him caring so much though was so sweet, and I felt really lucky that I had been with someone who wanted to make a lasting impression. It made me think he wanted to make sure they liked him enough for him to be in my life for a long time.

When Chris pulled into the hotel parking lot, he let out a deep breath.

“Rainbows, butterflies, unicorns,” he muttered, trying to calm himself down.

A cackle left my mouth at the sound of him.

His eyes shot open and he glared at me. “Stop laughing!”

“Chris, this is ridiculous! You’re getting yourself worked up for nothing.”

He stared at me with a blank expression like that was enough to challenge my words.

“Babe,” I started. “My dad is as protective as any dad is, but he’s a nice man and he cares much more about me being happy than anything else. He can only protect me so much from as far as we live anyway. My mom, she’s easy going and loves everyone. And my sister is 4 and will like you as long as you acknowledge her existence. You’re fine, let’s go.”

With that, I exit the car and head for the front doors. I hear Chris’ door close behind me and his footsteps follow. I lead Chris up to my family’s room, knocking a few times so they can let us in.

The door swings open, revealing my mom. “Honey!”

Before I can say anything, her arms are wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight hug. “Hi, mom. How was your flight?”

She let out a sigh. “Exhausting, but we made it. Your sister couldn’t fall asleep and complained about her ears hurting, so she took a nap for a bit when we got settled here and-”

“SISSY!”

The sound of my sister’s voice was enough to make my face light up. I squatted down to her height as she ran to me with her arms out. I hooked my hands under her arms and picked her up, holding her at my hip.

“Hey girly! I heard you didn’t have too much fun on your flight, huh?”

“Uh uh,” she said, shaking her head before resting it on my shoulder.

I could sense her eyes on Chris, who had been standing behind me. After a few seconds, she started giggling.

I bopped her up a bit so she could look at me. “What’s so funny?”

Her cheeks blushed as she pointed to Chris, then put her head back on my shoulder.

“Ohhhhh,” I say, nodding at her as she hides from my boyfriend. “That’s Chris. He’s very nice.”

Chris waved his hand at her, smiling big enough for my sister to giggle again.

“Why don’t you guys come in and sit down for a bit?” my mom suggested.

Carrying my sister still, I walked inside with Chris behind me and sat down on the bed.

“Hi sweetheart,” my dad greeted me, kissing me on the head. He stuck his hand out to Chris, who wiped his hand on his pants before shaking my dad’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Chris.”

“Yeah– Um. You too,” Chris stumbled over his words.

In an attempt to let Chris relax a little, I sat my sister on my lap and said, “Why don’t you let Chris meet Bobo?”

Her eyes lit up and she jumped out of my lap, racing to the bed to grab her stuffed monkey.

She bolted back to Chris, holding her monkey proudly in front of him.

“This is Bobo?” he asked, an element of excitement in his tone that was enough to make any kid think that what they had to share was golden. “Can I hold him?”

She nodded, smiling.

“Wowwwwwww. Did you know monkey’s are my favorite? I had a lot when I was little.”

Her jaw dropped to the floor, making both my parents laugh.

“Bobo was with me… the whole time… on the plane,” she said. She spoke like she was out of breath, like the excitement was too much for her. “I was scared of the plane and mommy said Bobo would protect me!”

“I bet he did!” Chris nodded. “He looks like he has that power.”

I couldn’t help but smile at Chris and my sister interacting, as well as how he had finally loosened up and gotten comfortable around my family. While we continued to talk, my sister climbed up on his lap, and I fucking melted at how fast he put his arms around her for support and helped her up. She put her head on his chest, and while holding Bobo, I could see just how tired she still was.

“Uh oh,” my mom said. “Looks like she’s out again.”

All our eyes found my little sister passed out asleep on my boyfriend’s chest. He looked down to try to see for himself, but was blocked by the back of her head.

My mom stood up with her phone. “This is too cute. Do you mind if I take a picture of you guys?”

Chris didn’t even respond. Instead he looked up at my mom with the biggest smile I’d ever seen, holding onto my sister.

All his fears went away, and just like I thought, he was the perfect fit for this family.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

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teapartyprincess4two · 1 month

Text

Parenthood- C. Sturniolo

pairing: Mom!reader x Dad!Chris

classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons

inspiration: request

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship, I didn’t name the children but Chris has 2 sons in this 👍🏻

summary: head cannons of Dad!Chris.

Parenthood- M. Sturniolo (Matt’s Version)

—

☆SFW

Fatherhood is something that scared Chris beyond belief, but when you broke the news to him he couldn’t contain his excitement. When your son was born, he fell in love immediately, and you both learned to navigate being parents. Then, when you were blessed with a second son, he was even happier.

☆ Chris cherishes every single memory, he’s really sappy about it all. He has a box full of pictures, baby socks, the wristbands from the hospital, everything.

☆ “Chris, some of this is trash,” you chuckle, filtering through the endless trinkets that all seemed to hold significance to him.

☆ “Our son’s first pair of socks isn’t trash, Y/n!” he snatches the box away from you, carefully placing everything back in.

☆ “Okay, but this dirty napkin?”

☆ “I wiped my tears with that. THANK YOU,” he snatches it from you, his sassy demeanor making you laugh.

☆ Chris loves spoiling his son, whether it be with toys and games, or with summer trips.

☆ He goes all out too, splurging on trips to Disney or to elaborate water parks, making sure to book the hotel and everything.

☆ “Babe, he’s 3. He won’t even remember this,” you chuckle, dragging luggage’s behind you.

☆ “Yes you will. Right, son?” Chris coos, bouncing the baby in his arms and blowing a raspberry into his neck. The baby giggles, the sound being music to Chris’s ears.

☆ The whole week it’s just you and Chris going on all the kiddy rides, snapping pictures of your son, and passing out back at the hotel.

☆ When you find out you’re pregnant with your second son, Chris does everything in his power to make your firstborn’s last months as an only child special.

☆ He takes him to the park, cuddles him to sleep every night, and showers that boy in so much love.

☆ Even though Chris is extremely high energy, being a working dad of two is very tiring.

☆ So, when the kids get older, he starts feeling comfortable taking ‘dad naps’ in random spots around the house.

☆ “Chris, babe, can you help me in here really quick?” you’re balancing a fussy baby on your hip, the other hand stirring whatever’s on the stove.

☆ You peer your head outside to see Chris knocked out on the hanging lounge chair. His chin rests on his chest, mouth open and arms crossed as small snores fall past his lips.

☆ Your oldest son holds a long piece of grass, tickling Chris’s nose with it. Your son whispers eerily,“Wake up daaaad. Wake uppppp.” You can’t help but giggle at the sight.

☆ Chris has successfully managed to cement his legacy as the ‘cool dad,’ or at least he thinks he has.

☆ He loves wearing funky graphic t-shirts when he’s chaperoning the kids, “I was young once too. I was the shit back then, kid.”

☆ Your oldest son just rolls his eyes playfully, but in reality he really looks up to Chris.

☆ Your youngest son loves dressing up like his dad, wearing his oversized t-shirts and beanies so big they fall past his eyes.

☆ “Look mom, I look like daddy!” he exclaims, accidentally tripping on the shirt as he runs towards you.

☆ Other times, Chris will throw on some sunglasses and try acting mysterious.

☆ The mysterious act doesn’t last long though, especially not when your youngest son cuddles up next to him for his afternoon nap or when your oldest starts asking for snack money.

☆ At family parties, Chris goes all out. He’s buying a bouncy house, cooking the burgers, renting an ice cream truck, and inviting all of his family.

☆ He loves playing games with his kids, usually forming teams and challenging them, “Alright me and Matt verses you two. Losers have to jump into the pool with their clothes on.”

☆ “Okay, but uncle Nick has to be on our team,” your oldest replies, fully confident in his ability to win his dad.

☆ Nick is then recruited, and surprisingly isn’t needed because your sons are completely obliterating Chris’s team.

☆ Chris isn’t a sore loser, it’s a trait he never wants to subconsciously pass down to his kids, so he’s jumping into the pool fully clothed as his kids watch in a fit of giggles.

☆ Laundry day is easily Chris’s most hated day, especially with two messy children.

☆ He’ll ‘help’ you fold clothes, which really means that he’s toying with the same shirt and flicking through Netflix.

☆ When the kids are asleep, you and Chris will treat yourself to some takeout because that’s the only time you can order food that the kids don’t usually like.

☆ You two are like little rats, hiding in the pantry munching before the kids hear you and wake up.

☆ One small creak and you’re both frantically hiding the food. “THEY’RE COMING!” he whisper shouts, but when no one opens the door you both fall into a fit of laughter at the dramatics.

☆ As your firstborn son gets older, he starts becoming snappy and somewhat rude, as teenagers often do.

☆ And although Chris doesn’t like reprimanding his kids for the smallest things, he can be stern when it’s necessary.

☆ “Watch your fucking mouth, kid. I don’t want to hear shit like that from you again. Go to bed.” Your son is hanging his head down and trudging to his room.

☆ “Don’t you think you were a little harsh on him?” you whisper, holding onto Chris’s arm gently.

☆ “My kids aren’t gonna be disrespectful, especially not to their momma,” he replies, but when he hears your son sniffling in his room the guilt begins chipping away at him.

☆ It doesn’t take Chris long after that to enter your sons room and engulf him in a hug, scolding him in a much softer manner that informs your son that what he did was still wrong, but also that Chris still loves him.

☆ Baseball, basketball, soccer, lacrosse, hockey, football; your sons are doing it all.

☆ Chris is in the stands, cheering so loud that his voice is hoarse by the end of the game. Even when his kid’s team doesn’t win, he’s still so incredibly proud of their performance.

☆ Chris reps the jerseys, attends the practices, and coaches his sons even when they’re at home, “Widen up your stance then throw!”

☆ Whenever there’s an opportunity to make his boys laugh, Chris is taking it.

☆ He picks them up from school wearing big, fake teeth while playing silly songs on the stereo.

☆ Your sons are never embarrassed, they just hold their sides and laugh uncontrollably, “Dad I’m gonna pee, stop!”

☆ He doesn’t spoil his kids, but he definitely buys them an unnecessary amount of things. It’s mostly harmless stuff like toys, games, and sugary snacks.

☆ “They don’t need any more toys, Chris,” you scold, struggling to make space for all of it.

☆ “We don’t need anything, Y/n,” he replies, his inner child going crazy.

☆NSFW

As parents, it can be hard for you and Chris to make time for each other. Your schedules are packed with school, practices, work, and the few free moments in between are used for household chores. But Chris always makes time for you no matter what.

☆ For the most part, you have to be sneaky. During birthday parties or family events, you take advantage of how distracted your kids are and sneak away into an empty room like teenagers.

☆ Your adrenaline is pumping, clumsy fingers undoing his belt as he kisses you feverishly.

☆ “We have to be quick,” you whisper, watching hungrily as he lines himself up with your entrance.

☆ He doesn’t respond, knees wobbling and his animalistic grunts filling the room as he pumps into you quickly.

☆ Chris doesn’t last long, which is slightly embarrassing, but the times you guys have sex are so few and far between that you can’t blame him.

☆ “Sorry,” he whimpers, pulling out and collapsing next to you. “Don’t be sorry,” you smirk, straddling his hips and getting yourself off as he becomes an overstimulated mess.

☆ On date night Chris books a night at a nearby hotel, dropping the kids off with his parents and telling you to get all dolled up.

☆ He dresses up too, meeting you at the hotel bar and flirting with you like it’s his first time meeting you.

☆ “Hey beautiful, come around here often?”

☆ You play along, the butterflies swarming in your stomach despite sharing an entire life with this man, “I do. Never seen a man as handsome as you here before, though.”

☆ A few champagne glasses later, you’re both giddily walking back to the hotel room and making love under the soft lamp light.

☆ Some random mornings, he wakes up fully bricked and no matter how hard he tries to will the erection away it just won’t subside.

☆ “Y/n, baby, are you awake?” he murmurs, pressing soft, sloppy kisses on your exposed shoulders.

☆ You stir awake, a soft yawn escaping your lips as you reply, “I’m awake.”

☆ He pulls you in closer, his erection pressing against the back of your thigh.

☆ “Need some help there?” you chuckle, immediately understanding his intentions. He hums in response, letting you take over as he watches in a lazy haze.

☆ “So beautiful,” he moans, hands caressing and massaging every inch of your body. You can’t help but blush, hiding yourself in the crook of his neck.

☆ “Look at me,” he instructs, he doesn’t want to miss out on a single thing.

☆ “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” his lips are latched to yours, an overwhelming feeling of love overtaking him as he blows his load inside of you.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: meow 😋 dad Chris anyone? 🎤

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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tosomeonessomeone · 3 months

Text

soaked.

words・ 2.5k /pairings・Bang Chan x reader / genres・fluff / warnings・ none

As you strolled down the familiar streets of your hometown, memories flooded back from your childhood. The laughter, the adventures, and the bond you shared with Christopher Bahng, the leader of Stray Kids, seemed like a distant yet cherished echo.

Christopher, or Chris as you fondly called him, had always been your partner in crime. From building makeshift forts in the backyard to dreaming about conquering the world with your talents, your friendship knew no bounds.

Years had passed since Chris left your small town to pursue his dreams in South Korea. The world had known him as a rising star, a beacon of talent and charisma leading Stray Kids to fame and success. But to you, he was still the same old Chris, the boy with endless dreams and an infectious smile.

You were lounging on your couch, scrolling through your phone when a message pops up.

Chris: Hey, you there?

You: Yeah, what's up?

Chris: I'm back in town for a break. Let's catch up over dinner tonight?

You: Definitely! It's been ages since we hung out. Where do you want to go?

Chris: How about that burger joint we used to love?

You: Sounds good! See you there at 7?

Chris: Perfect! Can't wait to see you!

You grin, excited to see Chris after so long. Memories of your mischievous adventures flood back as you head to the burger joint.

As you arrive, Chris is already there, leaning against the wall, looking as cool as ever.

"Hey, stranger!" you exclaim, approaching him.

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hey, you! Long time no see."

You both settle into a booth, exchanging stories and laughing like old times.

"So, how's life as a K-pop star treating you?" you ask, taking a big bite of your burger.

Chris rolls his eyes playfully. "Oh, you know, the usual. Dance practices, fan meetings, and dodging crazy rumors."

You chuckle. "Must be tough being an international heartthrob."

He shrugs. "Eh, someone's gotta do it."

Throughout dinner, you reminisce about your childhood antics, from building forts to pulling pranks on neighbors.

"Remember the time we tried to skateboard down that steep hill and ended up in the bushes?" Chris laughs, shaking his head.

"How could I forget? We were lucky we didn't break any bones," you reply, laughing along.

As the night wears on, you realize how much you've missed Chris's company. Despite his fame, he's still the same goofball you grew up with.

During dinner, in between bites of burgers and sips of soda, Chris leans in and asks about your life.

"So, what have you been up to, besides stalking me on social media?" he teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckle, taking a sip of your drink before replying, "Oh, you know, the usual grind. Work, family stuff, trying not to embarrass myself too much."

Chris nods, genuinely interested. "How's work treating you?"

You shrug. "It's been busy, but I can't complain. Pays the bills, you know."

He nods sympathetically before his expression brightens with curiosity. "And what about your family? How's everyone doing?"

You smile, glad to share. "They're good, thanks for asking. Mom's still the same old mom, doting on everyone. Dad's busy with his projects, and my sister's off on her own adventures."

Chris nods along, listening intently. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he leans in a little closer. "So, any special someone in your life? Or are you still single and ready to mingle?"

You roll your eyes, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice. "Oh, you know me, Chris. Still navigating the treacherous waters of singledom."

He laughs, giving you a knowing look. "Well, if you ever need a wingman, you know who to call."

You both share a laugh, the easy banter flowing between you like it always has.

As the conversation continues over dinner, you can't help but inquire about Chris's fellow Stray Kids members.

"So, how are your kids?" you ask, genuinely interested in catching up on his bandmates.

Chris's eyes light up as he talks about each member, sharing anecdotes and updates about their lives and careers. He laughs as he recounts their latest shenanigans during practice and on tour, painting a vivid picture of the bond they share.

"They're all doing great, still causing chaos wherever they go," he chuckles, a fondness evident in his voice.

Then, with a playful smirk, you decide to turn the tables on him. "So, Chris," you begin, raising an eyebrow playfully, "what's the deal with you? Any lucky lady catching your eye these days, or are you still playing the field?"

Chris chuckles, running a hand through his hair before settling back in his seat. "Ah, the eternal question," he quips, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "As for my relationship status, let's just say I'm enjoying the single life for now."

You nod, understanding his stance. Being in the spotlight can undoubtedly complicate matters when it comes to romance.

"And what about all that flirting with fans?" you prod, unable to resist teasing him a bit. "Are you just a professional heartthrob, or is there more to it than meets the eye?"

Chris laughs, his grin widening. "Ah, you caught me," he admits, his tone light but genuine. "Flirting with fans is all part of the game, you know. It's about connecting with them, making them feel special. But at the end of the day, it's all in good fun."

You nod, appreciating his honesty. Being a K-pop idol comes with its own set of rules and expectations, after all.

As the night wears on, you continue to chat, trading stories and laughter until the restaurant begins to empty out around you. Despite the fame and the distance that separates you, tonight feels like old times, a reminder of the enduring bond you share with Chris, your childhood friend turned international superstar.

You and Chris make your way back home after dinner, laughter echoing through the streets, you can't help but marvel at the unexpected turn of events. The rain pours down relentlessly, catching you both off guard, but instead of seeking shelter, you find yourselves caught up in the moment, running through the streets like characters in a romance movie.

"This is insane!" you shout over the sound of the rain, unable to contain your laughter as you splash through puddles.

Chris grins, his eyes alight with exhilaration. "I know, right? Who knew we'd end up in the middle of a monsoon?"

You exchange glances, the sheer absurdity of the situation only adding to the sense of adventure. With each step, the rain pelts down harder, soaking you both to the bone, but neither of you cares. In this moment, nothing else matters except the sheer joy of being alive, of feeling the rain on your skin and the thrill of the unexpected.

As you round a corner, a small awning comes into view, offering temporary refuge from the storm. Without hesitation, you both dart beneath it, breathless and exhilarated, the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Wow, that was intense," you gasp, trying to catch your breath as you lean against the wall.

Chris nods, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Tell me about it. Remind me to check the weather forecast next time we decide to go out for dinner."

You both burst into laughter, the shared moment bonding you even closer together. And as you stand there, drenched but deliriously happy, you can't help but feel grateful for the simple joys of friendship and spontaneity.

Chris chuckles, his laughter mingling with the sound of raindrops. "Well, you know what they say about spontaneity."

"Yeah, it definitely keeps life interesting," you reply, glancing up at the darkened sky above.

You glance up at Chris, his features illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. His eyes meet yours, sparking with an intensity you've never seen before, and in that moment, everything else fades away.

Feeling emboldened by the electric energy between you, you reach out and take Chris's hand, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Without a word, you continue running through the empty streets, the raindrops falling around you like a symphony of whispers.

As you round a corner, a small square comes into view, the cobblestones slick with rain. The soft strains of music drift through the air, beckoning you closer. With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you stop and turn to face Chris.

"Hey, do you want to dance with me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris's eyes widen in surprise, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. But then, a slow smile spreads across his face, and he nods, his hand tightening around yours.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice low and husky.

Together, you step onto the rain-soaked cobblestones, the world around you fading into a blur of colors and sounds. In this moment, there is only the two of you, moving in perfect harmony to the rhythm of the rain.

As you stand there, laughing, dancing, and soaked to the bone, you can feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken tension hanging between you like a delicate thread. The air crackles with anticipation, charged with a magnetic energy that draws you closer together with every passing moment.

And then, in a bold and unexpected move, Chris reaches out, his hand finding yours with a gentle urgency. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a fire that burns brighter with each heartbeat.

With a wordless understanding, he draws you closer, his body pressed against yours in a dance as old as time. The rain falls around you, a steady rhythm punctuating the silence as you move together in perfect harmony.

His touch is electric, sending shivers racing down your spine as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you surrender to the pull of desire, your heart beating in time with his, as you drown in the depths of his gaze.

In that moment, with the rain falling around you and the world spinning madly on, Chris leans in and kisses you. It's not a fleeting touch or a casual gesture – it's a declaration, a moment of raw and unbridled passion that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

His kiss is electric, sending shockwaves coursing through your body as you surrender to the intensity of the moment. Every brush of his lips against yours sets your heart ablaze, igniting a flame that burns brighter with each passing second.

In that stolen moment beneath the stormy sky, you lose yourself in the intoxicating rush of sensation, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of rain and the feel of his touch. It's a moment suspended in time, a glimpse into a world where passion reigns supreme and love knows no bounds.

As the rain continues to fall around you, you cling to each other, lost in the dizzying whirlwind of emotion. And in that moment, with Chris's lips pressed against yours, you know that you've found something worth holding onto, something worth cherishing for eternity.

You both break from the kiss, a shared breathless moment passing between you as you gaze into each other's eyes. The rain continues to fall, a gentle cadence echoing the pounding of your hearts.

Chris's voice breaks the silence, soft but filled with emotion. "Wow," he breathes, his eyes searching yours as if trying to unravel the depths of your soul.

You smile, feeling a rush of warmth and affection wash over you. "Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "Wow indeed."

There's a tangible energy between you, a connection that defies explanation. It's as if the universe itself has conspired to bring you together in this moment, under the cloak of a stormy sky.

Chris reaches out, his hand finding yours with a tenderness that takes your breath away. "I... I didn't plan for any of this," he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

You squeeze his hand gently, reassuring him with a smile. "Me neither," you confess, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you like a comforting embrace.

For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world fading away around you. In this moment, there are no expectations, no uncertainties – only the shared promise of what could be.

And as you stand there, hand in hand, you know that no matter what the future may hold, you'll face it together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and possibility.

You can't help but let out a nervous laugh, the tension of the moment giving way to a lightheartedness that feels like a balm to your soul.

You shake your head, still incredulous at the whirlwind of emotions that brought you to this moment. "Who would've thought a rainy night and an life update dinner would lead to... this," you say, gesturing between the two of you with a mixture of disbelief and affection.

Chris smiles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "Sometimes, life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it," he muses, his tone thoughtful.

You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you. "Yeah, I guess it does," you reply, your heart filled with a newfound sense of hope and possibility.

As you stand there, sharing a moment of levity in the midst of the storm, you realize that sometimes, the most beautiful connections are forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Chris breaks the moment with a nervous laugh, his cheeks tinted with a rosy hue. "Um, so... I guess I should probably.. you know.. say something here, huh?"

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. "Go on, Chris. Lay it on me."

He takes a deep breath, his expression earnest yet endearingly shy. "Okay, here goes. I... I've always admired you, you know? From the moment we met as kids, you've been this constant presence in my life. And tonight, being here with you, dancing in the rain... it just feels right."

Your heart swells at his words, touched by the sincerity in his confession. "Chris, that's... that's really sweet," you reply, unable to suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. "I have to admit, I've always had a soft spot for you too."

He blinks, surprise evident in his eyes. "Wait, really?"

You nod, feeling a surge of courage wash over you. "Yeah, really. I mean, who else would I want to dance in the rain with?"

Chris's laughter fills the air, a melody of joy and relief. "Well, in that case, I guess we're both pretty lucky, huh?"

You nod, feeling a sense of lightness settle over you. "Yeah, I'd say we are."

And as the rain continues to fall around you, you both stand there, hand in hand, sharing a moment of laughter and connection that you know will stay with you long after the storm has passed.

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iluvmattsbeard · 2 days

Text

lost time (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: nothing!

preview: your parents and the triplets parents have been best friends ever since before you guys were even born. you were sort of forced to grow up with the triplets. you and Matt were the closest. you two were hard to separate. but as you got to high school, you sort of fell off wanting to go do your own things. now as adults, you guys reunite and decide to make up for lost time.

a/n: i’ve been having so much inspo to write. you guys are keeping me motivated! i really appreciate it. listen to the song while reading, it really sets the scene. i encourage this with every imagine i write!LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE VERY APPRECIATED! - L🤍

"Y/n!" you hear your mother shout out from excitement as she runs over to you. you put down your luggage before embracing her in a hug, "hi mom! I missed you so much." you say rubbing her back. "I missed you more Y/n!" she says pulling away, giving your dad a chance to greet you. you haven't seen them in months. you were currently living in New York after you finished high school. you always wanted to live in the big city. you were grateful for the opportunity you received. you were majoring in the Arts. it was something you always wanted to do, but being apart from your family in Boston was the hardest thing you've had to go through.

"let's get inside. we have something to tell you." your mom says with a smile. you nod as you grab your luggage but, your dad ends up taking it from your hands. "dad I got it." you say letting out a soft laugh. "no you're our guest." he says letting out a chuckle. you three walk inside the house and you take off your coat. it was currently winter time. that was the reason why you were back home. it was December 20th, five days before Christmas. you were home for the holidays. you hang your coat on the rack and take off your shoes. you walk around analyzing everything. it was still the same, except for the fact that it was decorated for Christmas. you head towards the Christmas tree as you reach out for an ornament that had your elementary school picture in it. "did you really have to add this?" you ask with a soft laugh. "it was too cute not to add sweetie!" your mom says handing you a mug of her homemade hot chocolate.

"thank you mom." you say taking it. "so, what was it you needed to tell me?" you ask taking a sip. "Marylou, Jimmy, and their boys are coming to spend the holidays with us!" you almost choke at your mother's words. "they're back in Boston?" you ask with an awkward smile. last time you seen the triplets, it wasn't quite the ideal farewell. at least with Matt it wasn't. you still talk to Nick from time to time, Chris would like your social media posts, and Matt? well, nothing was happening between the two of you. not ever since high school at least. "yeah! the boys still live with them. I think they're like entrepreneurs or something. Marylou tried explaining it to me but I didn't quite understand." your mom says. "they'll be staying here with us until after Christmas." she adds on. your eyes widen a bit, "oh? you failed to mention this before I got here?" you say with a nervous laughter. "well, I know it isn't ideal for you. I know you and Matt didn't quite leave off on a good note." she says.

-FLASHBACK-

"so what? you meet a whole new group of people that you decide not to spend any more time with me?" you say standing there with your arms crossed. "y/n, we were always together. we're older now. we don't have to be with each other every single time." Matt says frustrated. you scoff before responding, "so you're telling me you want to stop being friends?" he shakes his head, "that's not what I said. all I said was, maybe now we can just do our own things." he says. "well that's not what you've been doing. you've shut me out completely." you say with a hurt expression. "maybe because everything has changed Y/n. you know I don't hang around your crowd." he says catching you off guard. "so just because you gained popularity, apparently my 'crowd' isn't your ideal group of people?" you scoff before continuing on, "yeah maybe everything has changed. you changed." you walk away from him leaving him in silence.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

"they'll be here any minute." your mom says adjusting the centerpiece on the coffee table. you felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. you took constant sips from the warm mug as you sit down on the couch and wait. "you guys are adults now. you will figure it out." your mom says rubbing your arm. you didn't hold a grudge against Matt but, you still felt a sort of somber from the thought of what last happened. you suddenly hear a car pull up in front of your house. "they're here!" your mother says quickly getting up to rush over to the door. you stand up placing your mug on a coaster on the table before dusting off your corduroy pants due to your nervousness. "April!" you hear the familiar voice exclaim your mother's name. "Marylou!" she responds, happily embracing her in a hug. "is she here?" Marylou whispers to her. "yes she is! she's inside." your mother says before looking at the triplets boys. "Nick, Matt, and Chris!" she exclaims. "you boys are so grown up!" the boys smile with them shortly after embracing your mother individually in a hug. "hello Tyler!" Jimmy says greeting your dad, they end up doing a handshake.

after they all greeted each other, they finally headed inside carrying all their bags. you turn around swiftly as you see Marylou gasp from excitement, "my baby girl!" she says running up to you, hugging you. "hi Marylou, how have you been?" you say hugging back with a smile. "amazing now!" she pulls away looking at your mother, "April she looks just like you when you were in college." she adds on. you let out a soft laugh before turning towards the boys. Nick and Chris greet you with a hug before having a little small talk. Matt greeted you with a small 'hello' and awkward smile, which you did as well.

"i'm so excited for Christmas! it'll just be like the old days!" Marylou exclaims. "I brought the album book with photos of every Christmas we've celebrated!" "pull them out!" your mother says putting her hands together happily. now, you were all gathered around the couch as Marylou flips through the album book. "look how chubby your cheeks were Y/n." your dad points out with a chuckle. you felt your cheeks turn red from the comment as everyone laughs. "if only time would slow down." you hear your mother say. "I know. we're getting old!" Jimmy adds on. Marylou continues to flip through the book before landing on a photo of you and Matt smiling as little kids with missing teeth. you were both in matching Christmas sweaters as your head rested on his shoulder. "this is my favorite." Marylou says with a smile. you felt your heart ache from the sight of the photo. "you guys were so small!" your mom exclaims smiling. "yeah. now everything has changed." you blurt out with a fake smile. Matt turns his head towards you, shifting uncomfortably in his stance from the familiar words that came out your mouth.

*time skip*

you guys just had finished eating dinner. “that was amazing April.” Jimmy says wiping his mouth. “very delicious honey.” your dad says rubbing his stomach. everyone thanks your mother as she smiles, “my pleasure everyone!” she says cheerfully. you decided to help your mother clean up the table. the triplets were lead to the rooms they’ll be staying in for the next days by your father. Marylou and Jimmy were settling into their room.

“Y/n, get out of this kitchen.” your mother says pushing you away playfully. “mom let me help you.” you say trying to stop her. “no Y/n! this is your break. go relax or something.” she says still pushing you away. “you’re really not going to let me help?” you ask letting out a small laugh. “no! now go!” she says smiling. you shake your head with a smile before walking away. you head up the stairs, walking into your childhood bedroom. you look around at the pastel pink wallpaper as you let a small smile appear on your face. you were reminiscing over all the memories that you had in here. you were glad to be home. you then hear a slight knock at your door as you turn around to see Matt. “hi” he says. “hey”. you reply.

*time skip*

it was the next day, the mothers had plans to do some holiday baking while the dads just sat around and watched TV. Nick and Chris were out catching up with old friends as Matt stayed at the house. “Matt! Y/n! join us!” you hear your mom say happily. you walk to the kitchen as you see materials and ingredients laid out on the island table. Matt was on the opposite side of the island from you. “we’re going to bake gingerbread cookies!” Marylou says handing you and Matt aprons. you tie your hair back in a ponytail as you respond, “yummy”.

as you guys started it off, Marylou and your mother left it up to you and Matt to handle the cookies while they started to prepare this upcoming dinner. you were mixing the batter as you ask Matt to pour some flour on to the table. as he does so, you both took dough into your hands as you both talked. “i hope these turn out right.” you say. “me too.” Matt says with a smile. you guys just caught up talking about college as he talked about his career he started with his brothers. it felt nice to talk to him again. the conversation stops as he looks at your face, “wait hold on. you have a little something right here.” he says putting flour on your nose.

your mouth went slightly open from his actions as you let out a small scoff which turned into a smile. “oh really? because i think you have something on your whole face.” you say placing your floured hands on his face, rubbing it in. you pull away and start laughing, “oh you’re going to regret that.” Matt says with a grin, picking up more flour as he chases you around the kitchen. you shriek as you try to get away from him but he soon grabs you from behind, wrapping his arms around you as he rubs the flour all over your face.

“Matthew!” you exclaim. Marylou taps your mother trying to make her look at the scene that took place. “look April.” she whispers. your mother looks up and smiles. “guys! you’re making a mess!” your mother says laughing. your smile soon drifts away as you realize what was happening. you step away from Matt as you take off your apron heading straight upstairs. Matt just stood there feeling awkward.

later in the day, Matt knocks on your door anxiously. "come in." you shout out from behind the door. he opens the door stepping inside. you look at him before speaking, "what's up?" you ask sitting on your bed. you could tell he was hesitating to speak, "I think we should discuss about where we left off from the last time we've seen each other." he says sitting down next to you. "what's there to talk about? you made it very clear that you didn't want to be surrounded by me anymore." you say. "that's not true Y/n. at the time, I just felt like we were always together. I felt terrible for what I said. our friendship was great and I let it go stupidly." he says letting out a small breath.

all you do is avoid eye contact before he speaks up again, "can I make it up to you?" you look at him as you respond, "how?" “well i want to know you better now. you know, figure out what you’ve been doing ever since we fell off.” he says. you just look at him with a blank stare, “i don’t know about that.” you say.

“okay then let’s see…” he says looking at the time on his phone and smiles, "come on." he says standing up. "what? where are we going?" you ask confused. "just come on. put on a sweater." he says walking out your room. after a bit, you meet him outside as he stands there with his hands in his pockets. "Matt where are we going?" you ask putting your hands in your pockets. the snow fall was light, but the ground was coated white from earlier. he starts to walk as you follow quickly behind. "you'll see!" he exclaims. after a while, you guys were now standing at the park you use to go to as kids. "why are we here?" you ask smiling softly. "well, remember our snow days?" he asks. "of course I do. while Nick and Chris attacked each other with snowballs, you helped me build snowmen." you reply. "yeah. i'm glad you remember." he says crouching down bunching up the snow. "we're going to build a snowman." he adds on with a smile.

"this is how you're going to make it up to me?" you say crouching with him. he looks at you as he speaks, "to make up for the times we missed building a snowman." you look into his eyes for a bit before letting out a small laugh. you guys then continued to build a snowman. “it’s head is as big as yours.” you say laughing. Matt’s mouth opens slightly as he responds, “that’s so mean.” you both laugh and eventually after laid in the snow looking up at the starry sky.

“what are we going to name him?” you ask. Matt hums while he thinks before he thinks of the perfect name, “Louis.” you turn to face him as you hear the familiar name. Louis was the name of your childhood stuffed animal that you had matching with the triplets. “you remember Louis?” you ask. “of course i do. i still have his sibling.” he says which causes you to let out a small chuckle.

"I missed this." you hear him whisper. you stay silent as you thought to yourself. where was this effort back then? as much as you missed it too, you still couldn't forget. you sit up, "we should go before it gets any later." you say before getting up and walking away.

*time skip*

you were out sitting on the porch drinking hot chocolate as you had thoughts. should Matt be given another chance? he had you where he wanted you before until he made it disappear. why now does he want to fix things? your thoughts were interrupted when you feel a figure sit next to you. you turn to see who it is to find out it's Matt. "can I still prove to you I want to make up for lost time?" he says quietly. you could tell he was genuine. "okay how now?" you ask. he gets up with a smile as he asks you to follow him. he gets in the car as you join him in the passenger seat. "where are we going?" you ask putting on your seat belt. "some place special." he says as he drives off to the location. you look out the window as you see familiar scenery. you fix your posture as you try to hide a smile, "don't tell me we're doing what I think we're doing." he parks the car and smiles, "come on let's go." he says getting out the car.

he opens the trunk to reveal the famous sled you guys built together with your parents in middle school. you gasp while covering your mouth. "you kept it?!" you exclaim. "of course I did." he says pulling it out from the trunk. "we're going to do our tradition." the tradition was a silly thing you both liked to do during snow days. you would try to get to the highest hill and slide down without trying to fall off. you guys always failed. you and Matt climbed up a steep hill as you look at him. he places the sled onto the fluffy snow as he sits down leaving space for you in between his legs. you smile as you sit in front of him.

"are you ready?" Matt asks, "yes I am but, how did we do this back then? I forgot how steep this hill was!" you exclaim. you both let out a laugh as Matt speaks, "well you know the drill." "try not to fall off!" you say as he slides down the both of you. you shriek from the thrill as Matt laughs. when you guys reach the bottom, the sled comes to a sudden stop causing the both of you to tumble over into the snow. you both laid there cracking up. "I knew that would happen." you say clutching onto your stomach from how hard you were laughing.

"I don't think we'll ever not fall." Matt says shaking his head. "maybe next time." he adds on. "yeah maybe." you reply as your guys' laughter calms down. it eventually got silent as you continued to lay there with your arms by your side. you did miss this. "do you ever wonder what could've happened if we stayed close?" you ask still staring at the sky. "I'm not quite sure." he says doing the same. little did you know, he was inching his hand towards yours slowly. you guys laid there as his fingers were nearly touching yours.

*time skip*

it was finally Christmas morning, you were woken up by your mother shaking you excitedly. "Y/n! it's Christmas! time to get up." she says cheerfully. you rub your eyes as you look at her tiredly. "the triplets are already downstairs! come on!" she adds on before leaving your room. you get up and stretch before heading to the bathroom to do your morning routine. you put your hair up as you went downstairs. "good morning sunshine." Marylou says with a smile. "good morning" you reply smiling as well. "are you ready to open gifts?" you hear Chris say. "because we've been waiting." he adds on and you see Nick shove him.

"don't act like a child." Nick says to him as Chris rubs his arm. you let out a small laugh as you nod. you sit next to Matt and he greets you ‘Good morning’.

by the time all the gifts are open, everyone could be seen talking and laughing as you and Matt sit there taking everything in. "we need to make this a tradition again." your mom says. "absolutely!" Marylou says. "Y/n?" you hear Matt whisper to you. you turn your head to face him, "yeah?" you whisper back. "I got you a gift." he says. "you did?" you ask raising an eyebrow. he smiles and nods. "oh Matt... I don't have anything for you. I didn't know you were going to be here in the first place." you say with an awkward tone. "don't worry. I got this gift last minute. come with me." he says getting up. you look around as you notice nobody is paying attention. you get up as you follow him out the front door. "what plans do you have now?" you ask letting out a small laugh.

"well, I wanted to have this moment for just the two of us." he reaches into the car as he pulls out the same matching Christmas sweaters from when you were kids but in a bigger size. "Matt..." you say grabbing it slowly. "I think we should keep up with the traditions." he says putting on the sweater. you smile big as you do the same. "where did you even find these?" you asked looking down at the design. "I have my ways." he replies looking at you. you look up at him and smile, "thank you Matt." he smiles as he stands there rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I have one more thing." he says. "what? how much stuff do you have?" you say letting out a small chuckle. "you need to close your eyes for this one." you look at him confused before responding, "okay? you're not going to throw a snowball at me right?" he lets out a laugh as he shakes his head, "just close your eyes!" he exclaims. "fine sorry." you say shutting your eyes.

you heard his feet shuffle in the snow before you hear the movement stop. "alright you can open your eyes." you hear him say. you open your eyes slowly as you see Matt holding up a little plant. "Matt, is that what I think it is?" you say as your eyes turn soft and you gulp. it was a mistletoe. he lets out a shy laugh as he speaks, "you don't have to if you want but, I wanted to see if we could start a new tradition since we're older." you look at the plant as you smile wide, "of course I do." you say looking into his eyes before pulling him slowly into a soft kiss. Matt drops the mistletoe on the snow as he attaches his hands onto your waist.

you slowly pull away as you both hear a click. you and Matt turn towards the front of the house to see Marylou and your mother holding out a camera smiling. “everything has definitely changed.” your mom says. you and Matt look at each other and laugh.

a/n: this is a little longer than my usual stuff! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it! LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! comment what you think about this and if i should do more taylor swift songs for my swifties. - L🤍

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space-matt · 3 months

Note

dad!matt or dad!chris fic

a day with daddy

dad!matt.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: what do you want more from life when you can spend a whole day with your favorites girls?

author’s note: I really hope that you’ll like it! if you all want I can make a Chris’s version ♡

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English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

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revised

The long-awaited moment had finally arrived: a day with dad

Matt has decided to dedicate a day every week to spend with his two daughters, whom he considers his little princesses. When he received the news of their birth from the gynecologist, he was so ecstatic that he jumped all over the room. He immediately shared the news with his brothers, Chris and Nick, and even shed a few tears of joy.

When they were born, he was so enchanted by their presence that he didn't leave them alone for a single moment. He wanted to be with them as much as possible, which led to the idea of dedicating a day to them so that you could rest.

In the morning, he woke up early to prepare breakfast for everyone.

After finishing his morning routine, the man heads to the twin room to wake up his daughters. He sits on the bed and admires them, still in disbelief that they are his own flesh and blood. Slowly, Lola, the older twin by 20 seconds, opens her eyes and sees her father in front of her. She jumps into his arms, screaming "Daddy!" loudly enough to wake up her little sister Daisy. Daisy then wakes up and greets her father with a cheerful "Good morning, Daddy!"

He held both in his arms and gave each of them a kiss on the cheek before enter into your room. As he whispered, "Mom is still sleeping, are we going to wake her?" in a joking manner, they immediately understood with a nod and stepped out of his arms, and then screamed as they ran towards your room.

''Mummy, wake up! It's morning!!" with one click, you take them both and start tickling them, their weak point, causing the room to fill with their laughter. In the meantime, you look up and notice Matt standing on the door frame with a broad smile on his face, all thirty-two teeth showing as he looks at you. "Okay, okay, we've bothered Mom enough, now everyone has to have breakfast" he says, attracting the attention of the girls who immediately follow him like a train.

After finishing, you change into comfortable clothes and settle down on the sofa to continue watching your favorite series, which you had paused for a couple of weeks while Matt was occupied with dressing the two young ones. Suddenly, all three of them appear in front of you dressed alike, thanks to Matt's idea. You couldn't resist taking a picture to capture the adorable moment.

The morning continued after greeting you. Despite the cold, the sun sprang up, allowing you to enjoy the day as they headed towards the park.

As they walked, Matt held the hands of the little ones firmly in his own. When they reached their destination, the children spotted their cousins near the slide and ran towards them. Meanwhile, Matt approached his brother Chris.

"Did they drag you out of bed?" asked Matt with a sarcastic smile, as Chris glared at him. "Yes... I wanted to sleep a bit more, but I would do anything for them" Chris replied, turning his head towards the direction of the people who woke him up.

It was lunchtime, so they decided to walk home and then drive to McDonald's, which was the girls' favorite place. After placing their order, they enjoyed their meal at a leisurely pace, and finished it off with some ice cream.

In the meantime, you finished watching a series with an unexpected ending. Not wanting to get bored, you decided to tidy up the house, so that you could later take a nice warm bath with music in the background.

This was something you needed, as you had neglected your mental health due to all the paperwork you had to do. Thanks to these days designed by Matt, you had the opportunity to recharge your energy.

Matt and his daughters were back in the car, with their favorite songs playing at full volume. Thanks to your musical recommendations, your daughters had become obsessed with your favorite singer. Even Matt, who was initially skeptical, began to appreciate the music so much that he started humming some of the refrains and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

Upon arriving home, the twins eagerly ran towards you, showering you with hugs. Meanwhile, Matt collapsed onto the sofa to rest for a moment. However, a couple of hours later, he was awakened by a delightful aroma wafting from the kitchen.

"Hey babe, why didn't you wake me up? You know you don't have to do anything" Matt says with a sleepy look as he approaches you to give you a kiss. "You seemed more tired than me" you laugh, "So I let you rest a little." you continue to stir the ladle in the pan and he asks "Where are the girls?" to which you reply, "They're in their room coloring."

Matt decided to take a quick shower before dinner so that he could freshen up. Dinner ended early because the girls were excited to see the new Disney movie.

The evening ended in the best way possible - the four of you huddled together in bed with smiles on your faces.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x reader

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slightlymore · 1 year

Text

the neighbour

bangchan x fem reader

genre: neighbours!au, slow burn, smut!!!!, romance, tiny angst, some fluff moments, strangers to lovers, sexual tension, dual perspective

content/warnings: +18, solo m, solo f, accidental auditory voyeurism (auralism), toys solo f, lots of dirty thoughts, lots of dirty talks, raw, oral f, oral m + deepthroating + swallowing/facial, manhandling, multiple orgasms both, body worshipping, praise kink, light degradation, edging both, begging both, thigh riding, finger sucking, hand necklace, hair pulling both, biting both, spanking, mirrors, fingering, titty and nipple play, cum play, creampie, spit, overstimulation both, aftercare + they’re both lowkey perverts sksk

words: 14k

___

When he heard the first noise, Chris sighed deeply, puffing his cheeks before releasing the air. He considered himself lucky to not have had a neighbour for the longest time - not because he was worried of them being annoying - he just liked the freedom of being the only one on that building floor.

And when he heard the second noise and the buzz of many people talking, he knew he had to go outside and check on who was in the middle of moving in.

Not because he was nosy (he was) but because he wanted to understand the kind of person (or worse, family with children? god) was moving in. Also maybe they needed help (he wasn’t actually going to help, he was just a Libra and a people pleaser).

“Hey-ya” he nodded once at some uniformed men, carrying boxes upon boxes into the next door apartment. The men tipped their little hats as a greeting and Chris leaned on the door frame with arms crossed on his chest. He was a good diplomat. He was a great diplomat even. No. A spy. And he was sure he’d get all the information he wanted out of them.

He opened his mouth to start with the first of the questions when a voice blocked the words in his throat.

“Be extra careful with that one box, please. It’s fragile.”

Chris had to start from the bottom.

No, his eyes did a quick look at everything but then he thought he must start again from the bottom.

And slowly.

He stared at your shoes. Heels. Not too tall, not too short. Pointy and black. Classic. Then your ankles. God, he loved ankles. No hosiery although it was pretty cold. Did you care too much about fashion? Or not enough? God, he loved legs too. Pencil skirt. A bit outdated but it worked. Shirt and blazer? Office worker. 9-5 person. Fuck, he definitely had to stop blasting his music at night. Unbuttoned shirt. Daring. God, he loved necks. Wait, wait. Hands? Hand. Left hand. No rings. No partners or children? Maybe. Single mom? Could be. Career woman? Perhaps even worse - full or rules.

“Are you going to keep staring or will you finally turn around, go inside, and mind your own business?”

The voice returned and Chris had to finally analyze the lips. God, he loved li-

“I’m being serious,” you added.

Chris cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Hi. I noticed you’re moving in.”

You let your eyes drape over his body, from his nude toes (you made some kind of face and Chris felt really self conscious about his toes for a moment there), then his thighs (he shivered), and when you lifted one eyebrow he felt completely naked.

“Alright, I get it. It’s uncomfortable to be stared at,” he fought the urge to cover his crotch in the damn grey sweats he chose for the day.

“Yes, I am moving in. Congratulations, you have eyes,” you made a little smile. Those types of smiles you do when you hate someone and you kinda want them to notice but not too much.

Chris let out a dry chuckle in the form of air from the nose. “Thanks. Do you need any help?”

You were going to say no. You were definitely going to say no. Not only you had a whole minions squad to move in for you, but you also looked like the type of person to refuse help altogether.

“Actually,” you leaned towards the wall and Chris followed your movement as you grabbed a square soft-looking bag-box thing with both arms and handed it to him.

“Could you please take Nyx in for a few hours? She’s scared of all the noise.”

Chris silently took the bag-box and looked inside.

“It’s a cat,” he said, one beat before realizing again he was sounding a bit stupid.

“Do you always say at loud everything that goes on in your-”

“Don’t finish that,” he interrupted you.

You closed your mouth with a little smile.

Chris looked at the cat again. It was black with gorgeous green eyes.

“Hello?” he tried.

The kitty hissed and Chris impercetibly jolted in place, blinking a few times.

“It means she likes you,” you explained.

“Oh, really? Like owner like cat, I guess,” he gave you another glance.

Your eyelids dropped at the comparison as if a bit annoyed but not surprised. The glint of amusement didn’t disappear from your eyes though, so Chris was glad to understand he didn’t particularly cross any boundary. Besides staring at your legs.

“She doesn’t bite by the way. No worries.”

“I don’t mind a little kitty scratch,” Chris replied.

You stared him down for the second time, as if that information renewed your curiosity about him. Or maybe you were just making sure if he actually looked like able to survive a cat attack or not. Or handle your scratches.

“Can I pet her? Your kitty,” he asked.

Your gaze went back to his face. The little innuendo banter didn’t go unnoticed to you. He wondered if that was going to be the boundary that would make you snap.

“Too early. She needs time to warm up to you,” you simply said.

Chris nodded. “Of course.”

He went inside and placed the kitty near the living room window to have both sun and shade. Not that cats were plants by any means, but he never owned one.

Then he realized he didn’t even ask your name or get any kind of information as he planned.

Maybe he wasn’t that good of a diplomat as he thought.

___

You sat down on the plastic covered couch as the last man exited the apartment and you stared at the myriad of boxes in front of you.

“Fuck,” you whispered, one hand to rub at your temples. You wished you could still have the keys to your old place for the night. You weren’t in the mood to make your bed. Maybe you were going to sleep on the couch, still dressed and makeup on and stuff.

Then you remembered Nyx.

The neighbour opened the door after a few seconds.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Figured it was you.”

“Hey,” you said back, a bit awkwardly crossing your arms on your chest. “Thank you for taking care of Nyx,” you added.

The man took a step back as to invite you in. “It was honestly a pleasure. I realized I really enjoy cats.”

You thought for a second if you should actually get in or just ask him to go grab her and leave. But then you saw Nyx sprawled on his couch, paws in the air and all, and a smile bloomed on your face.

“You should not have let her out. She probably left so much hair around,” you took of your heels and walked towards her. His living room rug felt very soft under your toes and you made a mental note to ask him where he got it so you could plagiarize the choice.

The man closed the door behind you and walked the same route, sitting on the couch arm and staring at Nyx with a genuinely fond smile.

“I do not mind hair at all.”

You knew he didn’t mean it in a dirty innuendo way that time.

Nyx purred happily against your hand as you pet her. “Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered.

“Wait, stay. I am in the middle of making dinner. I’m sure you got nothing to eat today,” the man got back on his feet and indicated towards the kitchen.

You got up from the crouching position. “Thank you. But I was thinking I could order something. It’s fine.”

He bit his lower lip as if wondering if your refusal was politeness or if you hated him and wanted to just go home. You realized he was lowkey cute conflicted that way and you chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, the smile already blooming on his face as well.

“What are you making?” you ignored him. “Chicken breast and rice?”

The man smiled again with a hum. “Oh, so you think I look fit although that comment feels a bit insulting.”

You chuckled again shaking your head in disbelief.

“Well, it’s not chicken breast tonight but if you want that come over any meal of the day besides Friday night and I’ll probably serve you that,” he continued.

“Okay, noted. We’ll see each other only on Friday nights.”

“It’s noodle soup,” he finally answered. “And I think it’s ready.”

You watched his large shoulders as he walked towards the kitchen to check on it.

___

Your silence told Chris that you considered noodle soup a decent meal and he hoped it was decent. He wasn’t a great cook but his food was alright enough to not make him die and for the longest time he thought that was a decent level of skill. Now, seeing the spoon inching towards your mouth he really wanted the food to actually taste good.

“You don’t have to stare at me like that. I won’t die,” you lifted your gaze on him.

Chris exhaled at the tension. “I’m just worried.”

You smiled. “I can see that. I’m sure it’s more than okay.”

The reassurance didn’t help ease his nervousness.

He lifted one eyebrow, teeth gritting as he stared at the way you gently slurped on the soup then had a mouthful of noodles right after.

Your cheeks puffed a little as you chewed and the view made him smile for a moment before he remembered you were about to communicate your review. He got nervous again.

You swallowed and nodded. “Good.”

Chris blinked. “Good?”

You hummed.

“That’s it?”

You scoffed incredulous.

“I’m joking I’m joking,” he chuckled and grabbed his own chopsticks.

It went quiet for the next moments but Chris didn’t feel awkward. Nyx was rubbing herself on both of your calves and the way your eyes would soften looking down at her, with that little eyebrow lift and the sweet voice made Chris feel some type of way.

“Thank you for the meal and taking care of her,” you said and Chris waved his hand as his mouth was full.

“No need to thank me,” he replied after gulping.

“What’s your favourite food?” you asked after some more silence. Small talk huh?

Chris looked towards an imaginary point, thinking. “I like pretty much anything.”

“Okay, then next Friday you’ll eat whatever I’ll give you.”

He locked eyes with you as you reached for the glass of water and had a sip. The silence engulfed you again.

God, he felt like leaning on the table and biting your lower lip with his teeth and he didn’t even know your name.

___

The following days passed quickly as you worked full time and came home to a disastrous apartment still filled with boxes. You could swear you’d get rid of 10 and 20 appeared in their place.

You were sighing, absentmindedly rubbing your lower back while the other arm was trying to carry a few flat packed boxes you managed to empty that evening.

You weren’t sure of the time but the young woman walking towards your neighbour’s door in what seemed like a night booty call told you it was probably pretty late. She was gorgeous and you had to force yourself to look away and close your mouth as she gave you a small smiling nod, passing you by and engulfing you in a dizzying perfume. You walked quickly towards the elevator in your indoors duck slippers, not in the mood to make eye contact with the man who took care of your kitty (actual cat) and fed you last week as he’d open the door to let the woman in.

It was Thursday and you realized with a certain degree of embarassment that you have been looking forward the Firday night dinner since the moment you left his apartment after that noodle soup date.

You couldn’t understand why the sight of that woman could make you feel that uneasy and you hated yourself for the speed of your brain trying to make up excuses as to why suddenly you wouldn’t be free anymore the following day.

When you came back up the woman was presumably inside already, probably sipping some fancy wine from a fancy glass with toes in the fancy carpet the man had - that apartment complex was for wealthy people, you weren’t stupid to guess the neighbour man was pretty well off as well - or perhaps already bent over the same table you sat at the previous week.

The quiet of your apartment got disrupted by a single thud, like something falling on the ground, or well, a bed frame hitting the wall as someone throws themselves on it - or gets thrown.

Suddenly you felt like wearing your coat and shoes, and after giving Nyx a little head kiss, you exited the apartment again for a weird urge to buy a night snack from the corner shop.

___

“Working this late?”

A deep voice made you snap your head upwards, your fingers stopped in front of the door pad as you were about to type your password.

The neighbour was bringing out dirty laundry, you realized, and you wondered if he intended to wash the bedding right after the woman left. The thought was a bit ridiculous and it put you in a bit of a better mood.

“No. I went out for a corner shop trip,” you explained and the man blinked as if finally realizing you were wearing pajama pants under your coat and your hair didn’t look work appropriate. The plastic bag in your hand was also still full of the snacks you didn’t have any appetite to eat while counting minutes sitting at the white and cheap tables outside the shop wondering how come time goes by fast when you have sex but it’s so slow when others have sex.

“Got any good snacks?” he asked just to fill in the silence, you figured.

You hummed as a reply. “Laundry this late?” you asked in return.

The man looked down at the basket in his arms as if he forgot he was was carrying it. “Oh. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get productive instead.”

Good excuse, you gave him that.

“Well, have fun, then,” you pushed the front door in, waving a hand. The man gave you a little square smile, making his dimples pop. “Good snacking.”

You closed the door then for some reason turned around, staring at him through the peephole as he walked towards the elevator.

___

Chris loaded the washing machine with an empty head. He didn’t think much about the one night stand. It has been a normal, not the best, but satisfactory one night stand. Just the usual. He’d normally work a bit or go to sleep after the person would leave - this time he was doing laundry. All standard stuff.

But then he saw you and he felt a weird lump in his throat, as if he got caught red handed.

Maybe it was because his date left minutes prior and he was still a bit disoriented, or maybe it was your nighttime look, the youthful but tired expression on your face with no make-up on, or maybe the sleepy eyes you had.

Or maybe it was the impression that you left your house on purpose.

He couldn’t recall if he made the woman loud enough for you to hear anything and his bed technically should not creak, but he wasn’t fully sure because he was too - well, busy - to analyse that in the moment.

He scratched his head, staring at the way the washing machine slowly started to hum.

___

You wanted to pretend like you somehow forgot about the dinner.

Of course, you didn’t. And honestly it would have been rude to.

Somehow you were hoping that he forgot about it.

It was a random invitation anyway, a joke. You didn’t give him a specific time frame. He didn’t even confirm that he’d come.

Somehow you were hoping that he didn’t forget about it.

And if he did, should you just go and knock on his door to say hey so are you coming over or what?

You shook your head, stirring the pasta sauce with a shiver down your spine. That would be- it would be- you couldn’t even think of a proper word for that feeling. Somewhat along the lines of humiliating.

Or would that be cool? Just knock knock hey, I have dinner.

You sighed, tapping the wooden spoon on the side of the pan before placing it down on a plate.

Why were you getting so worked up over a damn dinner with some random neighbour?

What if he had plans Friday night, anyway? He looked like he could be a busy and sociable man.

You sighed again, looking around the apartment which you deep cleaned. Then you stared at the abundant portion of pasta boiling gently.

God, you didn’t even know his name.

___

Chris looked in the mirror hung near the entrance door for the last time. He felt stupid. And his hair wasn’t cooperating.

He wondered if you’d think he only wears the same black shirt all the time so he wore a black shirt with a different logo to convey the message that he changes clothes like a normal human being. Not that it mattered.

He was ashamed to admit that he has been lowkey pacing the apartment for a bit that day, brainstorming solutions for the weird up in the air dinner invitation. He should have asked for confirmation last night.

What if it was a mere joke? A random polite made up phrase in the let’s go out for coffee sometime category?

But what if you were waiting for him? He needed a back up plan in case he showed up and you’d blankly stare at him with no dinner prepared.

He felt very stupid.

And he was glad you couldn’t see the way he jumped in place and felt his heart fall down to his ass when he heard the doorbell.

“Hey,” he opened.

“Hello,” you lifted your gaze.

Were you a bit- nervous?

“I came by just in case you forgot- well, not that you’d forget, but just in case I wasn’t clear enough about the dinner invitation, but, of course, if you made other plans in the meantime and you’re not free anymore or if you’ve already eaten then-”

“I was on my way to come over,” he gently interrupted your rambling. You unclasped your hands and put them behind your back at that information. You relaxed.

“Oh,” you smiled, “well, then. I made pasta. Hope it’s okay.”

___

“Hello, baby,” the neighbour giggled entering your apartment. He placed the wine bottle he prepared - sign he really didn’t forget, you were relieved to notice - on the floor and knelt down as Nyx lazily strutted towards him and rubbed her head then back on his hand. “I really missed you.”

You walked towards the kitchen to grab the food.

“You can come over and see her whenever you want to. I somehow feel like she missed you too.”

The man got up and walked the distance towards the arranged table, placing the bottle on it. “Did she?”

His tone was low and you wondered if he talked like that to his last night date. Or maybe he could do worse? More? How deep could his voice go?

“Yeah. I guess you have good vibes,” you complimented him.

He eyed the pasta you were carrying and he whistled impressed.

“Definitely better than my noodle soup.”

“Well, let’s see about that,” you gave him a look.

“You don’t seem like you’re bad at something,” he watched you serve him while sitting down.

“Perhaps this is the only thing I’m bad at,” you murmured back.

For some reason, maybe the ambient lights, or the closeness of your plates, maybe the way the shadows on his face looked accentuating his jaw, or maybe his gaze, compelled you to talk softly.

The neighbour liked your reply and gave you a smile, those languid smiles with one corner lifted more than the other.

You served yourself and sat down.

Your gazes met again and that was his cue to taste and review. You could understand why he was nervous last week.

“Hmmm,” he simply replied after a long long chewing moment.

You lifted one eyebrow. “Hmmm?”

He chuckled. “You must be so curious to know. I want to keep you waiting some more. It’s fun.”

You scoffed amused, taking a sip of water. “Well, I won’t beg for any comment, if that’s your plan.”

Did he do this with his date too? Edging her as she looked eager for a single touch? Or did he edge her when she was about to orgasm in his arms? Did she beg? Was he capable of making a woman beg?

Well, you were close to say please is this good or not I’m going to go insane, any moment now so probably he was more than capable of doing that.

“It’s very good,” he finally said with a proud expression, seeing your shaking and annoyed leg under the table. “I really like it.”

“Hmmm,” you weren’t fully pleased, but you tasted the pasta too and you let the smile bloomed on your lips warm up the space between you.

___

It was a bit too spicy for him, Chris realized after eating half the plate. But he wasn’t just going to back away. Maybe that was a test. Do you only entertain men who can handle the spice? Well, he was going to finish the plate and ask for more.

“Your apartment is coming up nicely,” he commented after a moment of silence. The bottle was almost empty and he really liked the light in your eyes because of the glass you were sipping from.

You looked around as if staring at it from his perspective. “Still a long way to go but I am pleased with it so far.”

“It’s curious. We have specular apartments.”

Chris made a mental note to remember that you were probably sleeping head to head. Maybe he was too loud last night. Did you mind? Was the noise bothersome? Did you even hear? Somehow he wished you did.

“I met with your girlfriend last night in the corridor,” you casually thew it out there as if reading his mind.

So you met.

He knew that you knew she wasn’t his girlfriend. You just wanted confirmation, didn’t you?

It made his fingers tingle. He had a sip of his wine.

“Did you talk?” he simply asked.

He felt a bit cruel seeing the faint shadow of something in your eyes. And he felt even more cruel because he loved it.

“No, just said hi.” You had a sip of your wine.

Should he drag it some more?

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Chris finally said.

___

The relief that washed over you made you cringe. You pretended to be a bit surprised. Not too much. A bit disinterested. Neutral.

“Oh,” you just said, unsure of how people replied to something like that. Questions roamed your head? Why not? Do you have another person you’re interested in? Are you too busy for a committed relationship? Was she not your type? Are you still not over your ex? Are you some kind of fuckboy?

But none felt appropriate.

“Do you have a partner?”

He took you by surprise. “No,” you replied. “I am too busy I guess.”

The neighbour leaned back in his chair, his fingers lazily making the glass leg roll.

“Can I ask what you do?”

You rested your face in your palm. “You can ask me whatever you want.”

The man smiled.

“I’m an Executive Director,” you continued.

He smiled more widely. “Of course you are.”

“What does that mean?” you leaned in with a giggle.

The man shrugged. “You said you wouldn’t beg. Also you look like someone who doesn’t take orders, you give them.”

You relaxed in your chair as well, arms thoughtfully crossed on your chest, taking in the information. You were sure you didn’t look like that but you accepted the compliment.

“Also, you live in this luxury apartment complex,” he added as if that could make his reasoning more rational and less rooted in his will to compliment you.

You nodded with an amused expression. “Well, and what do you do? Since you also live in this apartment complex?”

The man stretched his arms and back. “I’m self employed.”

You tilted your head to the side waiting for more information.

“I’m just a music producer.”

Somehow it wasn’t surprising. You nodded. “Why ‘just’? That’s very impressive.”

“Well, it’s not more impressive than your job,” he replied.

“Knowing the C major scale is already very impressive, what are you talking about?”

The neighbour blinked a few times then gently threw his head back in a bright laugh. You stared at his closed eyes. Then his perfect teeth. Then his dimples and the earrings shaking a bit in his ears. His neck was extended and it just exposed further the chicken and rice body he was farming. Gorgeous, although it made you a little sad and you hoped he was eating well. Not that you cared for a stranger. You didn’t care at all. You didn’t care-

He opened his eyes again and your gazes met.

You didn’t care?

___

Chris was confused. He discovered everything he initially needed for his nosy spirit. But somehow it wasn’t enough and with every question he asked, a new question came to mind. Your family? Siblings? How old is Nyx? Did you have other pets before? Why did you move? What did you study?

You were polite and answered each and every one of them, exchanging the favour of asking him the same back. How long has he been producing? Was it hard? Are his songs popular? Oh, you probably heard some of them around? No way, you made that song??

Chris was very confused, especially since it was very late and he was exhausted, yet he didn’t want to move his ass from the damn chair and go home.

But then you hid a little yawn and he realized he should probably just go. He thanked you again for the dinner. Should he ask you out for the next Friday?

But you perhaps just wanted to repay him the favour. Booking you for three Fridays in a row would have been too much, he figured. You looked like a busy and sociable woman.

He was outside your door and you smiled at him seeing him out although he only had to take a few steps towards his own apartment.

“Well, goodnight-” he kept that phrase suspended.

You blinked at him.

“Y/N,” you finally said with a little smile.

He repeated your name.

“Goodnight-” you replied.

“Chris,” he added.

“Goodnight Chris.”

___

Chris felt like a pervert. No, worse. He felt like a stalker. Was it weird that he memorized the time you’d go to work and the time you came back? He didn’t try to, for real. It just happened. He’d hear your morning alarm at 7am and the way your shower ran ten minutes afterwards. Then a pause, he figured you prepared breakfast and got dressed. Then the sound of your hairdryer or whatever you did to your hair, he wasn’t fully sure. Then another pause. He liked to imagine you were putting on some makeup. His 7am brain has been busy imagining you putting on bright red lipstick, gently bent over your sink to see yourself better in the mirror, although he fully knew you would never wear that kind of lipstick to work.

Then the sound of the door closing. It wasn’t a loud bang, you were considerate, but Chris had good hearing.

He’d sleep late in the mornings usually. But your routine influenced him. So his routine became waking up at 7am with you, listen to your movements, then after you’d be gone, he’d also get up and go about his day.

Was this normal neighbour behaviour? He wasn’t sure. He’s never had one before you.

During the day he wouldn’t think of you at all. Maybe once in a while.

And then he’d hear the sound of your door opening and closing. Nyx’s meow as she’d welcome you and your muffled far away baby talk, probably calling her my love and other nicknames Chris low-key wanted to hear directed at himself.

He wouldn’t listen to you after that, he was a busy man afterwards, and he didn’t want to be a full-on creep.

But he knew you’d get in bed at around 10pm so he started to go as well. Not to sleep, he could hear the sound of the Tik Toks you were watching or the movie you’d put on. Sometimes it would be silent and he was dying of curiousity to know what were you doing. Reading? Puzzles? Listening to music over earphones?

One night it was particularly quiet, maybe you fell asleep, and Chris was about to grab his laptop and do some work when he heard a low buzz.

It was so faint that the wondered if he was just imagining it. Maybe his dirty mind was just trying to fill in his brain with images of what he’d secretly desire you to be doing. But no, it was there. He fought the urge to place his ear on the wall like a total loser and ignored it for the night, blasting music in his ears instead.

But then it happened again the following night and Chris sighed, heat travelling down his abdomen. He scratched his ear then nape. Then he huffed, closing the laptop and putting it on the side. He didn’t want to listen but he couldn’t push himself to not listen either. He was just curious, he told himself. Also, it wasn’t his fault you were masturbating in the head to head bedrooms you guys had and it wasn’t his fault that the walls weren’t particularly thick for a luxury apartment complex.

But he wasn’t curious only about the buzz.

Well, yes. He wondered what kind of toy could that be. Was it small? Was it internal or external? Was it a vibrating dildo or a clit sucking device?

But no, not really. He was more curious about the sounds you’d make. Were you a noisy person? Would you be loud or muffle your voice into the pillow? What position were you in?

God, he felt like a pervert. It wasn’t his fault you were masturbating but it was his fault for listening like that and imagining.

He reached for the headphones when the first noise arrived. He froze, fingers in mid air.

The noises increased in number and volume. Whimpers and moans.

He let his hand fall on the bed and he dug the nails into the covers ever so slightly.

He blinked, eyes towards the ceiling, your eyes probably rolled back in your head. Was that good? You were probably swallowing that toy so well, all wet and warm. He exhaled.

Like a reply, you kept moaning. He shivered, a single shiver coming from his toes up his scalp. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened again.

It was no surprise that he was hard. He wasn’t particularly dressed either so he couldn’t even lie to himself and say that he didn’t notice.

“Shit,” he mumbled out loud, passing one hand in his dark curls, then on his face. It stopped on his chest, where it buzzed with self restraintful force.

No, he wasn’t going to rub one out to the sound of his neighbour. He was not going to do that.

But you sounded so good although muffled, and the universe gifted him with too much imagination for his own good. His hand moved on its own on his flinching stomach going over the short trimmed hair and he exhaled as if he has not been breathing for the past minutes.

Oh, it felt better than usual. He was way past teenage years but with the way the precum leaked on his fingers, the thumb collecting it, he felt like a virgin masturbating for the first time. His adam apple traveled up and down his throat and he closed his eyes, pushing the head into the pillow, trying to pace the movement of his hand with the rhythm of your moans. He’s never felt dirtier and it went so quick to his head that he didn’t need much. With a groan then a higher pitched whimper he came messily on his stomach, some of it reaching his chest. Your moans increased in the same moment and Chris thought he was going to go insane, imagining you sprawled and shaking because of your own orgasm.

If he came so quickly like that, what was he going to do if you were in his arms?

___

It has been a few horny days, you realized as your hand automatically reached for he drawer on your right. Then you stopped. You felt a bit tired of your toys and that month’s ovulation felt too intense for you to keep using them.

Somehow, well, somehow you wanted the real deal. Should you go out? Go back on Tinder?

You sighed and crossed your arms on your chest, eyebrows furrowed staring at the ceiling.

Fuck it, you got up, throwing the duvet on one side.

It has been too long since you went outside or dressed up. Hell, it has been too long since you actually fucked someone, and although you mastered your own shit down to a notch, you really missed human contact. Perhaps you were very lonely and not even that horny.

The dress was on, heels were worn, hair done and your girlfriends complimented your makeup. The night seemed promising.

The man you eyed a few hours into the night wasn’t that bad either. Decent height, good breath, normal man cologne, and the alcohol in your system did the rest. You didn’t even need to hear him talk or anything. You brought him home and got down to business.

You tried, really.

And the poor dude probably also tried a lot.

But nothing could beat the way you felt on your own, thinking about your neighbour Chris with a toy buried deep inside of you pretending it was him.

___

Chris decided he wasn’t going to be creepy that night. He wondered what was going on in your life to make you masturbate that much every night. It was completely normal but he usually masturbated mostly because of stress so he couldn’t help but ask himself if you were also very stressed or if the job was talking a toll on you.

Maybe he could go over and check, maybe with the excuse to see Nyx. The evil part inside of him wanted to go over the moment you started to touch yourself, just so he could interrupt and force you to come to the door, maybe all heated up, maybe a bit pissed at him. He wanted to see your annoyed expression at the fact you couldn’t finish. He wanted you to be so pissed and horny to just slam him into the damn door and find relief through his body. Chris didn’t want anything back. He could have just watched the way you sit on his thigh and ride it, head thrown back and your nails digging into his shoulders. He could be completely content just to stare at the way your breasts moved gently, not as hard as if you were to ride his cock, but almost. He really wanted to see your frustratred expression as rocking on his thigh would not be enough for you so you’d stare at him frantically, begging with your eyes for more, because you’d never beg with your words. Chris would pretend he doesn’t understand just to see you even more impatient. Even more eager. Perhaps he could drive you to the point of pushing him down the couch and sitting on his face.

The slam against the wall made him open his eyes. That wasn’t a familiar sound. The second thud made his lift one eyebrow. Were you renovating the bedroom?

But then a male grunt made his boiling blood chill in one second.

You had guests.

You had guests who were probably slamming into you given the sheer intensity of your sudden moans.

___

“Busy and enjoyable night?”

You looked to your right where a man was loading his own washing mashine. He wasn’t looking at you but no one was around so you knew he was talking to you. You took a moment to stare at his profile, the perfect flinching jaw muscle the only detail showing his emotions, whatever they were, on his otherwise calm face.

“I guess you can say so,” you answered, a bit embarassed. “Was I too noisy?”

“I wasn’t sleeping so I didn’t mind the noise,” Chris finally looked at you. He was very casual about it.

“The fact you were awake,” you threw some other clothes in the washing machine, “makes it all somehow worse. I am sorry you had to hear all that.” You hoped he didn’t see the bed sheets you were washing but if he heard you the whole night it was probably useless to hide it.

You gave him a small smile and he imitated you. You looked as if exchanging opinions on the weather instead of commenting on your one night stand.

“I was working, so big loud earphones on. Didn’t hear much.”

Although he made sure to say that, you couldn’t fully trust him. The way he even started that conversation in the first place instead of pretending to not have heard anything, as it would have been polite to, was as if he wanted you to know he heard.

But instead of feeling shame, the situation just made your blood run faster. He heard you. He heard your moans. Was he even a bit turned on? Or maybe just pissed because you ruined his night?

“To answer your full question, busy yes, enjoyable?” you trailed off, closing the washing mashine and staring at the way the clothes started to lazily twirl around.

“not much,” you finished.

Chris was also done and he was grabbing the hamper. His eyes looked like two cuts under his curly fringe. You wondered if his hair was soft as it looked. The dude’s hair wasn’t that soft and when he went down on you and you grabbed it, your mind couldn’t help but imagine Chris’ curls instead.

He was waiting for more information.

“Didn’t make me cum once,” you shrugged and didn’t give him any time to comment on it, leaving for the stairs instead.

___

Chris turned his head to watch your back disappear behind the corner. His gaze trailed down on your ass then legs.

He exhaled through his nose.

Why was he annoyed?

Because you fucked someone? Or because you didn’t get fucked well enough the way you deserved?

Your perfume was lingering in the air as he made his way up on the stairs as well and he waited the same elevator you took. The image of you getting railed into the mattress didn’t leave his mind for a minute since last night. But he knew that no fantasy of his could get close to reality, seeing you in your skimmy pajamas that morning. Your hair, the exposed delicate skin, the curve of your neck, your lazy amused voice.

Chris gulped once as he entered the elevator. He pictured taking you against that wall. Or maybe, against the damn mirror, so you could see your expression as your knees would give up from the sheer intensity of the orgasm he’d give you.

But he couldn’t fully blame the guy. Chris wasn’t that confident either and he was sure no man could prevent cumming in his pants in seconds if you were sprawled on the bed underneath him.

What the guy had to be blamed for is that he had the opportunity to pleasure the most incredible woman Chris knew, and he failed completely.

He was sure you won’t see him again, but if the dude came around the second time Chris thought he could break his fingers, that way maybe he could remind him they exist and can be used.

He exhaled through his nose again when the elevator communicated with a ding that it arrived on the right floor.

You were waiting for him and Chris stopped in his tracks for a moment, before walking up to you.

His gaze fell on the plate your were holding.

“Made some pie,” you smiled. Your eyes were shining a bit. If that was your expression when embarrassed then he really wanted to find ways to make you shy again.

“Take it as a token of my sorry I made you listen to me moan at 2am,” you added.

“You really don’t have to feel sorry about it,” Chris smiled back but he really wanted the plate, the hamper down at his feet already to free his hands.

“Well, you clearly wanted something from me by mentioning it,” your eyes shone again. Yes, that was your embarrassed expression, but there was something more to you, he realized. Malice.

Chris didn’t confirm nor denied. “I will enjoy it, thank you,” he simply replied, your fingers touching as he grabbed the pie. Your hands were a bit cold and a shiver went down his spine, imagining those fingers trailing down his body until they would warm up on his skin.

“I hope you do,” you said then turned around, disappearing behind your apartment door.

Chris put down the pie on his kitchen table then looked down at his hand which was still faintly burning from your cold touch.

He hummed and closed his eyes, sliding it under his waistband. He fucked his fist harder and rougher than usual.

___

You realized finding human contact wasn’t that satisfactory after all, so you huffed that night and after a short tik tok trip you reached for your drawer.

Then you changed your mind. Could you just do with manual that night? It would take more time but you somehow were in the mood to be a bit frustrated physically so that the emotional frustration could be drowned instead.

You relaxed into your pillow and the realization that Chris was probably on his bed in the same position made you bit your lower lip. Your delusions made you think he was a bit upset that morning because he was jealous but then again, if he wanted to he would, right? So he probably didn’t want to.

That thought took you out of the horniness you were slipping into and brought a little of sadness instead.

Hell, he’s never even asked for your phone number. Not even as a neighbour. Weren’t you at least supposed to talk about hot water and the trash bins?

No, you weren’t horny anymore. You were pissed.

But you didn’t need Chris to masturbate.

You could just do it as usual. You didn’t need to imagine his palms on you. Nor his veiny forearms. Definitely not his pillowy and pink lips, dragging down your skin.

Your first whimper took even you by surprise but you couldn’t stop. Not when the image of Chris’ face between your thighs was burning inside your closed eyelids. Would he be gentle? Would he be rough? The only thing you were sure of was the way his velvety and wet tongue would feel like. Would he grunt while eating you out? Would he moan, desperately trying to find relief in the friction with the mattress?

Oh that was a good image.

That was such a good image that your toes curled and your fingers picked up the pace. Was he a head pusher? Or was he a good boy waiting for you to please him with your mouth the way you wanted to?

You moaned louder.

You were so close. So so so fucking close.

And then the knock on the door made your legs shake in frustration. You opened your eyes, fingers still deep inside of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. If the person didn’t leave in the next second you’d lose that goddam orgasm.

The person knocked again.

Fuck.

Brain hazy with murderous intent and anger you didn’t even consider that the only person to be able to get inside the building and knock instead of ringing the outside bell was your neighbour.

“Hey ya,” Chris smiled, lifting one plastic bag. It clinked and you figured it was beer.

___

Chris ruffled his hair at the whimpers.

He couldn’t go on like that anymore. The evil plan to well, edge? no, cockblock you and your toy? yeah, sounded too evil for him. But after you careless display of noise with the dude the previous night he though you deserved it.

At the second louder whimper he was already outside, all of the beer he accumulated in his fridge in a bag and the poor excuse of hey im bored and I wanted to see Nyx, well, I wanted to see you as well.

“...I hope I am not interrupting anything,” he repeated the phrase and completed it after you opened the door.

You were a mess, a complete mess. Your eyes were shining and he could tell you were boiling hot from the effort of fucking yourself and probably from the anger of being interrupted.

He loved it.

“No, I was- uh,” you took some steps backwards and sideways to welcome him inside. “Working out,” you finished.

Nyx came meowing towards him and he knelt down, taking her in his arms. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing didn’t leave anything to the imagination and you wondered if he also has been working out - actually working out - prior coming to have those huge and pumped biceps.

“Hello, hello,” he nuzzled his nose into Nyx’s and you smiled a little, taking the beer bag and putting it down on the low coffee table you added to the decor some days ago.

“Working out?” you heard him ask after a cuddling moment with your kitty (the real cat).

“Yeah,” you turned around, one hand on your lower back, one to scratch your forehead. “You know,” you shrugged, “Youtube pilates and such.”

Chris nodded, joining you near the couch and letting Nyx down.

“That’s great. I’ve never tried Pilates before.”

“Are you flexible?”

He thought about it. “A decent amount. Not too much I guess, though? Are you?”

You gulped at the question, your brain still hazy witht he images your dirty mind created for you some minutes ago.

“Yes? I think so,” you sat down.

He hummed as if your frantic state amused him. Well, you were probably very amusing to look at. A whole mess. And you wondered why he didn’t give you his number? Yeah.

He looked around and you thought it was because he wanted to comment on the new decor. “Do you not use any mat?”

You were starstruck. “A mat?”

Chris looked at you. “Mat.”

“Oh, it’s uh, in my bedroom.”

He nodded.

“Do you just go to the gym?” you really wanted to move the subject away from you.

He leaned forward to grab the bag and take out two beers.

“Yup. I do mostly weights.”

“Of course,” you commented.

Chris opened the bottles of beer on each other - which you actually found sexy - and handed you one. You jolted in place when you felt the cold glass on the back of your hand.

“You seem very jumpy? Is everything okay?” he murmured.

You took the bottle and chugged. “Yes.”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was talking, something interesting even, but you couldn’t concentrate. You didn’t know if it was the fact you’ve been masturbating to the thought of him ten minutes ago, or if he somehow was more fine than usual that night, or if you just were getting heated up because of the beer you kept downing like water, but you really wanted to just jump on him.

He kept moving on the couch, backwards, forwards, side, adjusting his hair, his shorts. He was pissing you off because your eyes were forced to glue on either his arms, or his rib muscles, or his hands, or his lips, or his eyes, or his jaw, or his-

“Right?” he asked again.

“Huh?” you woke up.

Chris chuckled. “Where are you?”

“I am here,” you replied, hand moving the bottle to your mouth in an already repetitive movement.

Chris stopped the bottle by placing his hand on top of yours.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He opened his mouth.

Chris smiled. “It’s empty.”

You looked down and you realized it was indeed missing any beer. But you couldn’t let go because his hand was still holding yours.

You looked at him. “Can I have another one?”

His eyes analyzed your features as if to understand if you were drunk or not. Perhaps he decided that you weren’t. “Yes,” he replied.

You waited.

He didn’t move his hand.

“Then let go?” you tried.

Chris let his fingers slide down the back of your hand then forearm before leaning in and grabbing the full bottle on the table in front of you.

The swif of his cologne made you swallow dryly. He was so close. He was too close. He was too close for your tipsy and horny brain.

His touch, the second time, gave you goosebumps and, fuck, he noticed. His gazed trailed your nude arms as he exchanged the bottles in your hand and your gaze was on his face. So you noticed the languid look on it, as he slowly traced your skin with the fingertip of his ring finger, from elbow to shoulder.

You shivered and the goosebumps got more severe.

“You’re very sensitive,” he murmured.

___

He was having fun.

He was having so much fucking fun.

You eyes looked wide, staring down his finger touching your skin like that. Your quivering eyes, your trembling lower lip, your quick breath. Was he being too evil?

He touched your beer with his and took a sip.

The sound woke you from your trance and you imitated him, licking the opening of the bottle with your tongue for a moment before pressing your lips into it to drink.

Was that a habit of yours or were you also set on making him go crazy that night?

“What were you talking about before?” you resumed the conversation.

Chris chuckled. “So you weren’t listening.”

You lifted your legs on the couch to sit on them. Your knees was touching his thigh and he leaned into it instead of moving away. He was as close as to rest his arm on your legs. Perhaps he should do that.

“I got lost, sorry,” you smiled back.

Chris took another sip and indeed rested his arm on your legs. You didn’t flinch.

But when his hand naturally cupped one of your knees, the nude thigh in your pajama shorts got covered in goosebumps again.

His chuckle was bright as he laughed at you. “You’re very very sensitive.”

You rolled your eyes with an amused scoff. “It’s normal. Everyone is like this.”

“I am not,” he challenged you.

Would you fall in the trap?

Your eyes tightened in a knowing smile taking another sip. Perhaps you were drinking too much too quickly but he wasn’t going to be the boss of you.

“I believe you,” you simply said.

Chris let his tongue poke his cheek in a visible display of disappointment and he loved the way you giggled.

And when you suddenly dragged your nails on his bicep he was ashamed to realize he probably needed a pillow to cover his crotch.

Of course you picked on that. Of course you had to.

“Is this all it takes?” you voice got suddenly low and sensual, confident as you haven’t been that night. You were having fun now.

Chris didn’t let himself lose. Not even when you reached his nape and you slowly played with the short hairs of his undercut.

His gaze never broke the connection with yours. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been bricked up since I heared your whimpers on the other side of the wall.”

Your hand stopped and your face fell. It wasn’t anger or annoyance. It wasn’t even shame as he thought. It was arousal and shock. Maybe even relief.

Chris openes his mouth to add something else. Were you going to hit him?

And when you suddenly leaned in he was almost sure you were going to give him a good slap but he found the air knocked out of his lungs instead thanks to your lips of his.

One second he was looking at you and the other he was grabbing your ass as your straddled his thighs. You hummed into the kiss and he imitated you, one palm to lift your shorts up and the other to rub at your back until reaching the back of your neck.

You were soft and warm. So soft and warm and he wanted you closer to him so he pulled towards himself until he felt your body flush on his. His fingers frantically came in the front, to feel better what he was feeling with his chest, your braless breast, first on top of your shirt then, slowly, underneath it.

___

You shivered and your broke the kiss to moan against his lips. His hands were warm and your breasts too tender. Your blood was buzzing like electricity under your skin and you desperately wanted Chris to touch every inch of it with whatever he wanted to - his body, his hands, his lips, his tongue.

Chris, the neighbour.

The neighbour that attached that damned plump lips to your neck now making you flutter your eyelashes. He wasn’t even doing that much. He wasn’t basically doing anything. Then why were you already moaning? Why were you feeling on the verge of shaking in his arms? Fuck, those arms that were wrapped around your waist, so huge and too strong for your own good. Would he throw you on the couch soon with those? You let your head fall back as he traveled down your throat, one hand to keep you in place, the other groping at the soft flesh of your ass. Then his mouth, his open wet and hot mouth, felt your cleavage and you couldn’t see anymore.

You whispered his name, or you moaned it, you weren't sure, and you felt his hard cock flinch underneath you. You hummed, hands grabbing at his hair, pushing his fringe back to see his eyes. They were sharp looking up at you from the swell of your breasts. Just undress me already, you wanted to yell, but you knew he enjoyed taking his time with you.

___

Chris needed all of his self control to not reach down and feel if you were as plump and wet as he imagined. He could tell you were on the verge to beg. You were almost there. He really really really wanted to hear your pretty voice use your polite words. Just a single please would be enough for him. So he waited. He let his tongue tease your hard nipples on top of the shirt, elliciting the sweetest moans from you and the way you rolled your eyes back made him wonder if that guy you fucked was completely clueless or if Chris was just too skilled.

But Chris could also tell he wouldn’t break you that easily the moment you let your hips down even more and rocked them once from the base of his cock to the tip.

His throat growled without him wanting too and the sound made you pull his hair a bit to make him look at you. Your eyes were presenting a challenge and he smiled teasingly on top of your chest.

Okay, he thought, and in a single movement your shirt was off of you and on the floor somewhere across the room.

He thought having you half naked sitting on him would add to your mental fuckery but he didn’t take into consideration what the view would do to him.

“Fuck,” he murmured, cupping your breasts as if seeing a pair for the first time. He gulped and looked back up right when you leaned in to kiss him deeply, arms around his neck and tongue inside his mouth.

He lost it. He completely lost it, feeling your nude back with his knuckles, and you scent, god, it inebriated him so much that he was the one on the verge to beg you for something, anything, just fucking anything.

___

You felt like mush. You felt like putty in his arms, like nothing. And when you broke off the kiss to breathe and he went back to torture your nipples, this time no fabric to rub on it but just his delicious and wet tongue on them, you felt like cumming. You actually felt like cumming. You felt like hiding your face and scream. It was already too much. It was already too much and you weren’t sure if you were thinking it or saying it out loud but Chris increased his pace, kitty licking your buds in ways that made you dig your nails into his shoulders. He didn’t even wince, he didn’t even care, teeth gently biting on the hard but tender skin and stretching it, before popping in as much as he could fit and suck until his dimples showed.

Oh, it was sinful, the movement, the sound, your noises, his heavy breath, his cock so fucking hard right underneath you. You wanted more. You needed more, the begging word lingering on the tip of your tongue.

“Shit,” you said instead, a high pitched and messy moan escaping your chest. Chris hummed deeply against your chest and his arms tightened around your body as you leaned forwards and felt your body spasm uncontrollably.

You heard his chuckle from a haze as you slowly calmed down your breath.

“Adding making woman cum just from nipple stimulation to my CV now,” he giggled, his pretty eyes right above your cleavage. You smiled, rolling your eyes. You couldn’t believe he was giggling after doing all that to you.

“Stupid. It’s just my body being sensitive, as you said.”

“And yet, that motherfucker didn’t make you cum even by accident,” his tone changed completely.

His jealousy gave you butterflies - you were kinda ashamed to admit - and all you could do was leaning down to give him a smiley kiss, and it somehow tasted sweet and gentle. His cock didn’t feel sweet though and when he slowly pushed his hips upwards his tip bumped into your sensitive clit making you jolt. Then again, and again, until you had to let his plumped lips go and breathe on them instead.

“Chris-”

“Yeah?” he murmured back.

You whined, foreheads pressing together.

___

Chris thought he was going to just cream his pants. He thought that was it, that was the moment. Because besides creaming one’s pants, he didn’t think what other appropriate reaction one could have seeing you slide down from his legs onto your knees on the floor and rest your hands on his thighs with that needy expression of yours.

“Oh, fuck,” he swallowed, one hand to messy his hair even more.

The corner of your lips lifted in a confident and amused smile. “You think I can add making man cum just from rubbing his thighs in my CV?”

“Oh, I fucking think so,” Chris replied with somewhat of a choked and amused voice. Your warm palms were doing just as you said, touching him on top of his thin shorts, until reaching underneath them for a moment and feelin his boiling skin. The print of his cock was so obvious that you wondered if it was painful so you leaned down and just touched alongside of it with your nose, making his muscles twitch, then with your open mouth, warming him through the fabric.

Chris let his head fall back for a moment, unable to keep his eyes open, then he looked back down, not wanting to lose a single movement of yours.

You looked up at him from underneath your lashes and you smiled, almost purring, letting your tongue wet his shorts ever so slightly.

“I know what you want,” he smiled with a heavy breath.

Your head tilted to the side in a silent oh really?

He hummed. “But I don’t have issues with begging. So, please,” he added in a whisper, “please please I need to feel your mouth on me.”

___

You felt a new wave of wetness pool inside your panties.

How could a man look so hot begging for it? He drove you crazy. You thought you were breaking him but he broke you instead.

He was pissing you off. He was pissing you off so badly.

“Shirt off,” you lifted yourself and he chuckled, obeying you. The way he reached back and took it off by the collar made your knees weak and they weren’t strong in the first place.

“Better?” he leaned back again.

You felt your head spin. You felt like about to choke on your breath or spit or just air. One couldn’t just look like that.

So all you could do was just to lean in, tasting that immaculate skin with your lips on his neck, feeling his collarbones, then open mouth on his chest, then finally you bit the tender but firm skin right above his waistband, close to the few veins disappearing into his underwear.

He exhaled deeply, then he inhaled sharply, and finally he whimpered, a single sound, sweet but husky. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to hear all of it. And when you felt satisfied with the mark you left on his pristine stomach, you grabbed his waistband and pulled.

“Lift your hips for me, princess,” you smiled and Chris let out an incredulous offended giggle.

Yet he did as you ordered, letting you take a moment to try and understand in which hole you could fit all of that.

___

“I’m sure you could make me cum only by looking at it, but I would appreciate a little help too,” Chris let his hands caress your jaw and then he slowly dug them into your hair.

You looked up at him then back down. “Shit,” you murmured, rubbing your thighs together.

The movement didn’t go unnoticed to him and it just made his cock jump. You looked gorgeous. He thought you looked like a wet dream but none of his wet dreams looked that good.

He exhaled with a groan as you finally let your tongue travel from the base up his tip, feeling the most prominent vein, until tasting the pre-cum. Then you grabbed it, lazily pumping as much as you could, tongue teasing his slit before swallowing half of it in one go and making him choke on air.

“That’s- this is-” he mumbled, eyes fluttering and hands imperceptibly shaking.

You hummed a question but just sucked not even letting him process anything else besides the feeling of your perfectly wet and warm mouth around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers pulling on your hair a bit the moment you started to bob your head even lower until almost touching the base with your nose. The gag sounds made him dizzy and he relaxed the grip as you let his cock out with a gasp, some saliva strings attached to the tip. You broke them with your tongue and started to eagerly sucking on his tip again, lungs trying to take in as much air as you could before diving in again.

Chris was a sinner but if that was what heaven felt like he thought he might start repenting soon.

“You’re so fucking good,” he murmured with a husky voice. He was losing it completely just like the life you were sucking out of him. “So so so fucking good,” he let his head fall back again as you hummed pleased around his cock, the short eye contact making him close his eyes, feeling the pleasure pooling too quickly inside of him. You gagged again, this time for longer and your jaw relaxed, taking him deep inside your throat again and again and again until he pulled away, his thighs shaking and his breath completely irregular.

You looked at him disappointed and a bit mad. “-m cumming, are you sure-” Chris explained with a broken voice and you huffed, taking him back inside your mouth and making him groan as if he was almost in pain.

“Shit shit shit,” he repeated like a mantra, relasing so fast and so intensely that he almost missed the way your throat moved as you swallowed almost to the last drop, letting the last sprut land on your extended tongue instead and cheek.

Chris exhaled as if he just finished running a marathon and relaxed his muscles. His fingers collected the drops of cum from your face and you smiled, grabbing his wrist with your hands and directed it towards your face.

“God,” he gulped dryly, watching you suck on his fingers and coating them with your spit. The view was almost more erotic than the one he just witnesses and he wondered if he should add a third one inside your mouth to get them all ready for what he wanted to do next.

___

One moment you were between his thick thighs, and the other you were staring at the ceiling, your back flush on the couch.

You couldn’t make sense of when or how he grabbed you and pushed you into it, the only thing you could concentrate on being the feeling of his kisses on your stomach.

And not only. The way his neck chain felt rubbing on your skin with every inch he touched with his mouth. And when you felt it, cold, sliding between your legs, you inhaled deeply, hands trying to reach and grab anything to anchor you to reality. But Chris grabbed your wrists and pinned them down to your sides. Then he pulled your shorts and underwear down your legs with a harsh pull.

“No princess for me?” you joked, trying to fight the sudden feeling of being completely naked and very much open-legged in front of him.

Chris leaned down until almost lying on you and you welcomed his naked body between your thighs, feeling how deliciously he started to get hard again only by pleasuring you.

“Princess? But you want to be fucked like a whore, don’t you?” he teased your lower lip with his teeth and you whimpered at the sweet tone but dirty words.

“Yeah?” he asked again, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, reaching for your ear and languidly tracing its shape with his tongue.

You exhaled, caressing his wide back, feeling his muscles flex as he came back towards your mouth.

“Words, princess,” his voice was husky and deep and you felt it in your chest going down to your core.

“Yes, yeah,” you breathed out. Chris smiled pleased and the glint in his eyes got darker as he disappeared from your sight and pulled you by the hips towards his mouth.

You felt like melting. You felt like melting and disappearing into his touch.

Yeah, no, it was even better than you’ve imagined. You thought you knew how his velvety tongue would feel like but no, you didn’t. You had no fucking idea, not a single clue. And in that momen you realized you were so glad for not having a third neighbour because the way Chris got you moaning and swearing was probably unbearable. He just flicked your clit, and sucked on it, then kitty licked, then let his tongue flat on you, going down to collect all drops. Again and again. It was so dirty, it was so wet and sinful, it made you unable to keep your eyes open. He fucked you with his tongue, sliding it in with a groan, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better you felt his finger making space for itself. You gasped and stared down, catching a glimpse of Chris’ almost black eyes under his fringe, and the white of his teeth, like about to devour his prey. He pumped his finger in and out, tongue back to torture you, and when he added the second one and curved them towards the sweetest spots, your spine curved as well, and you frantically grabbed at whatever you could reach. Chris kept you down with the other arm, snaking it around your thigh and pressing his palm on your lower stomach. The pressure made you choke, heighteing the pleasure until something broke inside of you and you lost control of your own body and mind, shaking so violently that you couldn’t see anymore. You felt yourself clenching around his fingers rhythmically after another gasp of air, and you realized he was shushing you, lazily kissing your thigh, and whispering quiet praises.

Then he came forwards, his bicep full and his forearm flexed keeping his body weight, the other hand still buried inside of you.

You reached up and wiped his chin and lower lip and he smiled, catching it with his mouth and slowly sucking on it.

The mewl that escaped your throat at the view made him chuckle so we wanted more, finally sliding his fingers out and shoving them inside your mouth.

The kiss that came afterwards was slow and deep, your tastes mixing together in it, his body resting on top of yours, caging you down with his weight.

___

Chris hasn’t felt that aroused in a very long time. Although your whole body was doing the conversation, your touch, your eyes, the way you’d pull him into the kiss, your legs around his waist, he really really wanted to hear you beg him for it, beg him for more, beg him to not stop.

You didn’t stop kissing him and he was grateful for your almost identical apartments because eyes closed and hands busy groping at your ass as he carried you in his arms he had to only rely on his instincts to find the bedroom and drop you on the bed. The view of you sprawled on it the way he has imagined many times in the intimacy of his dark room made him exhale with his mouth and when you lifted one foot, gently rubbing it on his abdomen he lifted one amused eyebrow, desperately wanting to bite on you. So he did just that, trying to suck on the tender skin on your hip to get you a matching spot to the one you gave him. Your gentle but amused whimpers made his cock throb almost painfully and he lied fully on his stomach, his thumb lazily pressing into your clit in circular motions. Your body kept jolting ever so slightly as he peppered kisses all over your abdomen, still sensitive, and your hands in his hair made his spine shiver deliciously.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you.

Slowly and deeply, just like the kiss he gave you, caging you under his body.

He wanted to see your expression as he reached down and lined himself up to you. He wasn’t disappointed, the gasp you let out, feeling him slide inside of you mirroring his.

Chris needed to close his eyes for a moment, lips rubbing on yours, and his nostrils filled with your perfume.

And when he opened them, your blowned out pupils, your open wet lips, your eyebrows curved in a way that communicated lust and desire made him push himself in until a single choked sound escaped from your tender throat. He did it again, and again, slowly, making you feel every bit of him, stretching you out in ways that made you wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze with broken breath.

___

It was overwhelming. So much and so full. But you needed more. You wanted him deeper. You wanted him everywhere.

“Faster,” you whimpered, arms abandoned on the pillow you pushed your head into as he obeyed, snapping his hips into you. The louder moans filled the room and you extended your throat. Chris leaned down to bite on it, the sounds of his groans reverberating inside your chest. His hands reached yours, pulling them near the headboard and pinning them down, making you bite your lips at how you let yourself be fully to his mercy. He pushed his hand on your wrists more, the other sliding back down to your hips to keep you in place.

The bed started to creak and the sheets wrinkled underneath your bodies. A thin layer of sweat shone on his silky skin and you desperately wanted to feel him. You tugged at his hand but he smirked, pressing you down again.

A single disappointed mmh made space between your whimpers.

He clicked his tongue. “You want to touch me?”

The breathy yes visibly amused him too much.

“Ask nicely,” he whispered on your lips, his hips never stopping to turn your brain into a mush.

Your reply was a dry chuckle and he caught it with his mouth transforming it into a growl.

“I see you’re not fucked up enough,” he said in a second your wrists were free, but so was your body as he got up on his knees, sliding out of you.

Your whimper of protest at the sudden emptiness made him exhale satisfied.

“Come on,” you eyed him and his beautifully arrogant face.

“What?” he turned his head to the side in that little play. His cock was heavy resting on you as he slowly slid it on top of your clit, not enough to give you any relief but enough to keep you on that edge he desperately wanted you to be on.

You extended your arms, almost touching his chest, but he grabbed your wrists again keeping them together as he kept playing with you.

“Say it,” he purred. Your hips twitched at that delicious torture. “Say what you want.”

“I want you inside of me,” you opened your eyes. “I want you to make me cum,” you tried. Maybe you’d break him. Maybe you’d make him lose control.

But he just smirked. “Yeah?”

You hummed back, your fingers shaking in the air.

“What else?”

Your bit your lower lip. “Fuck, Chris-” you skin shivered.

“Just say it, come on, and I’ll fuck you the way you want me to,” his tip teased your sensitive clit deliciously as a little taste of what he would be able to do to you.

“Say it, baby,” he added and the petname threw you off completely, making you grit your teeth.

“Please,” you voice was faint.

Chris’ cock twitched and his grip on your wrist tightened.

“Louder,” he ordered and you whined as a reply.

“Please,” you repeated. “Please please plea-”

Your words got choked as he slammed into you, so deeply to cut your airflow completely. And when he slid out and thrust into you again you tried to breathe but it felt impossible. Your pants got louder and louder matching the intensity of the skin slapping and wet sounds. Chris pulled you even closer by your hips, reaching your throat and resting his warm palm on it to keep you in place.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now,” he murmured.

“I want- to see,” you admitted and Chris stopped, just the insinuated offer making him close to finish.

He grunted and slipped out, grabbing your sides and turning you on your stomach with a single movement. You exhaled at his manhandling and when he grabbed your arms, pulling you up on your knees to face the mirror on the right, he felt your body shiver at the view, your eyes drinking in your own body then his figure right behind it.

"You want to know how you look in my arms?” he whispered in your ear, snaking his hands on your body. “You want this pretty hole stretched and filled with cum?”

Your back curved and he could see in the mirror the way your eyes almost rolled back when he slid back inside of you.

“Yes,” you whimpered back.

“That’s why you’ve been so loud, weren’t you?” He thrusted slowly and deeply.

“Yes,” you added, with a choked sound.

The realization made Chris completely dizzy. “You knew I’ve been listening?”

“I was hoping you were.”

“And what were you thinking of while burying your toys inside your cunt?”

You rolled your eyes back, his movement inside of you making it hard to speak. “About this,” you whined, one palm tentatively reaching back to touch his abdomen but you had no more force.

You fell forwards on your hands, letting him grab your waist and fuck into you faster. Between your lashes you could see his body, tall on his knees, and his gritted teeth behind those gorgeous full lips. It was too much. His touch, his strokes, his scent all around you, his voice - deep and breathy - made you dig your nails into the sheets, twirling them as hard as he thrusted inside of you.

“-m close, Chris, I am-” you tried to speak, voice muffled by the sheets you were burying your face into. The man leaned down to grab your chin and lift your head up. You exhaled, staring at your teary eyes and fucked up gaze. “Cum for me,” he grunted in your ear and you didn’t see anymore.

Your body seized up and the sounds got drowned as you screamed. Chris’ hands trembled in your peripheral vision and the feeling of his cum filling up your pulsating cunt made you moan again dragging it until you could hear again. His breath was heavy and his voice hoarse as he whispered your name laced with swears.

Your lifted your gaze in the mirror, drinking in the way he licked his lips, eyes trained on your ass as he slid his cock out. He looked at you under his eyelashed and grinned, his palm bouncing on one cheek as he gave it a good spank.

You inhaled then gasped as he knocked your thighs together and slid back in slowly.

“Chris, I’m too sensitive-” you choked and he exhaled.

“Me too,” he grunted. “You can give me another one, right, baby?”

His voice made your skin shiver with goosebumps as he leaned down to pepper wet kisses on your cheek and jaw. “Or I can just stop,” he added, stilling his hips.

You whined. “Don’t stop-please-”

Chris hummed and moved slowly, fucking his cum back in. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You let your face back down and moaned, jolts of electricity running down your veins at the overstimulation.

“Look at me,” he ordered. “If you stop looking at me I’ll stop.”

His name excaped your throat like a sob. You didn’t want him to stop but you had no force to keep your head up.

Chris’s glistening body leaned down again as much as to reach our head. His fingers were delicate but firm when he grabbed your hair and pulled up, his hips picking up the pace.

You moaned, keeping your neck extended in his hold, the swears coming out of your mouth matching his. The heat in your abdomen felt like an explosion about to happen and when he felt your walls clench he grabbed your elbows again, pulling you up on your knees to wrap his arms all around you. His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his hands kept groping at everything until his knuckles would get white. They rested on your breasts, the other to hold your waist, and you grabbed his veiny forearms, open mouth in an initial silent scream.

“That’s right, that’s it, cum baby-” he grunted, his voice caressing your shivering skin.

Your body spasmed and if it weren’t for his hold you would have heavily fallen on the bed. Chris stilled for one moment, groaning as you clenched on him, but then he thrusted again, fucking you through your orgasm until you heard the choke on his breath against your ear, releasing into your for the second time.

You didn’t know for how long you remained both still, catching your shaky breaths, gazes talking to each other because you had no more words. But the moment he pulled out you watched, his cum sliding down your thigh and pooling on the sheets underneath you.

___

Chris’ chest felt the perfect amount of hard and soft. You nuzzled into it even more and your hair tickled him. He giggled, wrapping your body even tighter.

“I’ll get you new sheets,” he murmured.

“I can get the stain out,” you murmured back. Your eyelids felt heavy after his sweet praises and the delicate touch of his hands cleaning you with a soft warm towel. You didn’t even realize how thirsty you were until he brought a glass of water and he laughed watching you down it. Then he got you another one. Then he gave you a kiss. And another one. And he giggled again when you pulled him down on top of you, making out slowly like you had all the time in the world.

And being like that in his arms you did feel like you had all the time in the world.

“I’ll just get you new sheets,” he argued.

“If you need to get me sheets everytime you fuck me you’ll go bankrupt.”

Chris remained silent so you lifted your head to look at him in the face. He was grinning.

“Is that-” he started.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s an invitation to do this again.”

Chris cupped your face with his palm. “I love how you look when you’re embarrassed.”

You chuckled dryly. “I am not embarrassed!”

Chris nodded. “Hm-mh.”

You puffed and sat up, then turned on the other side. Chris only giggled and wrapped your body again, pulling your back towards his chest. The little smile you had on your face was visible to him in the mirror in front of you and he kissed your neck once before falling asleep with you.

___

In the morning you both used a single washing machine.

“Busy and enjoyable night, neighbour?” he leaned on the door suddenly as you finished loading it. The kisses he kept giving you in the elevator made your breath heavy.

You rolled your eyes amused at his little theatrical act. “Yes.”

He hummed getting closer and you clicked the Power button.

Chris grabbed your hips loosely and pushed you towards it until your ass hit the low vibrating machine.

“He made me cum many times,” you whispered against his lips. They were curved in a smile. His eyebrows shot up as if surprised.

“Oh, really?”

“Hm-hm,” you replied then gasped as he suddenly grabbed you and lifted you on the washing machine. His body naturally slid between your thighs and the way his fingertips trailed on them made you almost mewl.

“Chris-” you tried to stop him as his mouth fell on your tender neck.

“Yeah?”

“Not here,” you murmured.

The washing machine started to rumble underneath you and you exhaled.

His eyes shone with mischief. “Why, you’re afraid some neighbour is going to hear you? Shouldn’t that turn you on?”

“I only wanted you to hear me.”

“Well, if I gag you no one will hear a thing,” he whispered.

You gulped and your thighs impercetibly tightened around his waist. The vibrations of the washing machine kept sending jolts of pleasure up your bust.

“What if someone comes in suddenly?”

“We’ll be quick,” he peppered kissed on your neck. “But I can also stop.”

His gaze was dark and twinkly with lust. Your eyelids were getting heavy.

“No, don’t stop. Please,” you whispered. “Please.”

#bangchan smut #stray kids smut #bangchan fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #bangchan stray kids smut #neighbours au

2K notes · View notes

darling-i-read-it · 10 months

Text

Blue Paint

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: spoilers for insidious the red door, spook spook

Author’s Note: my decade old crush on patrick wilson was not expecting to make any movement when i saw this movie. However, the much more age appropriate ty simpkins was there with long hair and brooding smiles and i had a moment of weakness. ig up until this movie in my brain he was still 5 and i didn't realize he's older than me

Summary: You are rooming with Chris and are close friends with her and Dalton when he starts to mentally deteriorate rip

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“Dalton? Woah, woah.”

Dalton snapped his head off the table. Your eyes went wide as you watched him wake up, blinking aggressively. His fingers were still dipping in the paint but they had dried as he slept.

“What time is it?” he grumbled. His hair was sticking up. He must’ve been out.

“7. I just got back from dinner. I was gonna ask why you weren’t there but I guess we know the answer to that.” You looked down at the desk. Whatever he had been painting was now a smeared mess. His cheek had imprinted nothing but blue onto whatever the focus was.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean…” He shook his head. “Whatever.” He moved the canvas, starting to put things back as they were.

“Your face is blue,” you noted.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, now that his brain had caught up to him. You pursed your lips. You lived above him, with Chris. She was the reason the two of you had been introduced and then you ended up going to the same building for your early classes.

“Chris said something happened at that frat party,” you said. “I just wanted to know what went down from a reliable source.” He shook his head. He was still sticky on the face. Whatever he was using to paint didn’t dry as quickly on his face as it did on his fingers. You put down your bag and looked around for something to clean him with.

“Nothing happened.” You turned around, giving him a look. He let out a sigh. “I just mean, she was being dramatic.”

“Chris being dramatic? Now who would’ve thought.” You grabbed a dirty shirt off the ground. “You like this shirt?” you asked. He looked at you, confused. He shook his head. “Cool.” You dipped it in the glass of water on his desk and then cupped his face with your hands. You started to rub off the paint. “I love Chris and I trust her. I just mean, she was saying some weird things.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” You sat on the unoccupied bed and leaned back. “Anyway. Tell me what’s going on.” He shook his head. He looked goofy, smeared with blue. If he didn’t have such a melancholy look on his face you would probably have laughed at him. “She said something about astral projection.” “It’s this whole thing.” His phone rang. It was on the table, beside the paint. He picked it up, looked at the name, and declined.

“Was that your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you answer?” “Listen, you’re asking me a lot of questions right now and I’m not necessarily equipped to answer a single one of them,” he said, exasperated. You nodded, taking the hint. Instead you sat back up and started to clean his face again.

“I have nail polish in my room that would help with this. Or, do you have rubbing alcohol?”

“You sound like my mom,” he muttered. You pursed your lips and narrowed your gaze. “She probably packed something like that.” He looked down at his bag, one of the ones he had left unpacked. You picked it up and put it on your lap. You opened it up and started to look inside.

“If not, we’ll find some. Or you can go to class in the morning all blue. It’ll really let everyone know how you’re feeling.” He laughed gently. Your eyes flicked up at him. There was something about him that you felt a fierce need to protect. There was a puppy dog aspect to his features, in his eyes. “Ah ha. Mrs. Lambert for the win,” you muttered as you pulled out some rubbing alcohol and a towel. You tossed the bag aside otherwise. And dumped some water on it first, then started to scrub.

“I can astral project,” he said slowly. You stopped rubbing, meeting his eyes. He was dead serious. “I think. That’s what Chris said anyway.” You nodded slowly, continuing your work. “You think I’m crazy.”

“No. I just think you stopped your sentence with no more details and I’m waiting for them.”

“I can see myself when I’m asleep and then I’m in this other world. Walking around, except no one can see me,” he said.

“This paint is gonna stain,” you grumbled. You sat back. “You haven’t talked to your parents?”

“No. Why would I talk to my parents about this?”

“I dunno. Maybe it was something you did when you were a kid and they would know about it. Maybe it’s genetic.”

“So what, are you like the astral projection expert now?”

“Dalton,” you said. “I’m just trying to help.” He let out a sigh.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Do you really think it’ll stain?”

“Yes.” You winced. “Can’t imagine you can skip Armagan’s class tomorrow hm?”

“I’d rather face the embarrassment.” You nodded once. “I’ll take a shower. See if it cleans it off.” You nodded.

“Mind if I hang around? Cleaning calms me. For some reason I think I should be stressed.” He shrugged.

“Mi casa es su casa.”

“Sweet. Thanks D.” He dug around his bag for some clothes while you grabbed some more napkins. The door gently shut behind him as he left, leaving you alone in his room. The night light and his lamp illuminated the desk. You started to take the stuff off the counter, dumping piles of paint into the towel as you did so. You adjusted the light so that you could see everything.

As you went to move it, Dalton’s phone turned on. You glanced at it, seeing the face of a pretty woman who had Dalton’s smile. You would’ve known it was his mom even if there hadn’t been a name to go with her phone call.

You started to put it down, then glanced at the door.

Answering it would be weird.

You had never talked to his mom. Granted, you kind of hardly knew him. But clearly he was going through something and you were a strong believer that a mom could help figure anything out.

After glancing back at the door you swiped the answer on his phone and brought it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi…sorry is this Dalton’s phone?”

“Yeah! Yes, sorry. He’s taking a shower and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t pressing,” you explained, far too quickly. You cleared your throat.

“Oh!” She cleared her throat. “Are you one of Dalton’s college friends?” She paused. “Are you a girlfriend?” You laughed nervously.

“Oh Mrs. Lambert I don’t know-” You started to regret answering the phone. This was definitely too weird.

“No, sorry, that was a weird question.”

“This is a weird conversation.” You cleared your throat. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I was just calling to check in on him, he hasn’t called that much. Would you tell him to call? I worry. He’s a brooding guy and I just wanted to make sure he was making friends out there. I mean, I guess he is making friends, considering you’re close enough to be answering his phone.” She stopped for a moment. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s…” You glanced at the door. “Actually Mrs. Lambert, I did answer for a reason.”

“Renai. Please. And I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Why did you answer?”

“He’s been a little…off lately. I mean, everyone understands going to a new place and starting school and whatever. But he was at this frat party yesterday-”

“He went to a frat party?”

“I don’t have details, I wasn’t there,” you said, and had the heart to imagine him there and laugh. “He’s been acting kind of weird when he goes to sleep. Something about astral projection. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

Suddenly she was quiet. She was stammering and then she was silent again. You glanced back at the door again. You weren’t sure how long he would be gone.

“Can you tell him to call me Y/N?”

“Yeah. Is there…anything I can do to help him?” She was silent again. You could almost imagine her, biting at her nail, wondering what was going on, what she had done wrong. You wondered what the past had brought with this subject. What happened to earn her silence?

“No, I’ll talk to him. Thank you for answering and letting me know.”

“Of course. It was nice to meet you, Renai.”

“You too Y/N.” She hung up and the silence was more threatening now that the conversation was over. She gave you no real comfort. In fact, now you felt worse.

“This is for sure staining. Do you think Armagan will care? Maybe she’ll think it's an artistic expression.” You jumped at the sound of Dalton’s voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You still had his phone in your hand. He stared at it, confused, his eyebrows knit.

“What’re you doing?”

“I really think you should call your mom D.” He looked even more confused now. His hair was wet and matt against his head.

“Did you talk to my mom?”

“I know that’s super weird,” you admitted. “But she called and you didn’t answer earlier and I just got worried. I’m worried about you.” He narrowed his eyes on you.

“I’m fine.” You handed him the phone.

“She sounded worried when I mentioned you hadn’t been sleeping well. Maybe you should-”

“I appreciate your concern but I’m okay. Really.”

You handed him back his phone. You had managed to clean up the remaining paint but you hadn’t moved around any of his supplies. You bit your lip and gestured to them.

“I didn’t move this stuff, I wasn’t sure where you wanted it.”

“Thanks.”

“I think the blue is a power movement by the way,” you said. He sat down on the bed beside you.

“I think I’ll be okay in the morning,” he admitted. “Though I’ll get some weird looks. It might be a good topic of conversation.”

“For sure! I mean, I’ll for sure talk about it.” He rolled his eyes. “Chris will also talk about it.”

“She likes to talk.”

“She’s extremely funny.”

“She is, isn’t she?” You smiled gently and looked down at your lap.

“I should probably leave you to it then. You probably have to visit some other realm in the night, huh?” He half nodded, running his hand through his hair.

“What did my mom say?” You met his eyes.

“She thought I was your girlfriend.”

“You did answer my phone,” he countered. “That was on my bedside table.” You rolled your eyes.

“Out of concern!” You shook your head. “She wanted to know if you were okay and if you had made any friends.”

“So you told her I couldn’t sleep?”

“Again! Concern!” He chuckled a bit and pulled his legs up onto the bed. He leaned against the wall, looking over at you. You turned around, a playful smile on your face. You wiped it off. “You should call her.”

“I will, I will.” You started to sit up but he grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. “Where’re you going?”

“Back to my dorm. Leaving you to sleep or walk or whatever it is you do when the lights are out.” He stared at you. You tried to read his expression. Soft, needy, trying to be guarded but doing a bad job at it. “Or I could stay. We could have a slumber party.”

“I like slumber parties.”

“Me too,” you said, smiling. “Do I get to grab my pajamas or am I being held hostage?” He rolled his eyes. “Chris is gonna get jealous. She likes slumber parties too.”

“You can invite her down.”

“There’s only two beds,” you said, gesturing to the two.

“We can share.”

“These are twin beds.” Dalton smiled, a genuine smile. He shrugged.

“We’ll get close.” You wanted to hit him but refrained, just letting yourself blush. You stood up.

“I’ll be back down in a second.” You opened the door and then turned around, leaning against it. “I’m not gonna tell Chris.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

You shut the door behind you, taking a deep breath. Boys with long stringy hair were a downfall to the best of humankind. You couldn’t exactly deny the typical college girl butterflies.

You pushed open the door to your room. Chris was sitting on her bed, book open at her legs.

“I’m going out for the night,” you said. You reached for your pajamas.

“Where’re we going?”

“Daltons.”

“Sleep over?”

“Yes ma’am.” She raised an eyebrow. “Watching over him. Doing my duties as a friend.” She watched you as you walked around the room, shutting the door behind you so that you could change.

“In separate beds?”

“Yes Chris,” you said, looking down at her. Her stare remained.

“For how long?”

“Chris!” You threw your shirt at her. She caught it, laughing gently.

“Have fun but not too much fun. Make sure he doesn’t astral walk into this bedroom again while I’m sleeping. That was fucking creepy.” You rolled your eyes.

“Thanks for your support. You’re an amazing roomie.”

“Oh I know.”

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert x fem!reader #dalton lambert imagines #insidious imagines #insidious the red door spoilers

592 notes · View notes

f10werfae · 1 year

Note

was teacher! chris pissed if some random single guys looking at single now married mom! reader's big breast! think of Chris "punishing" his wife.

Now Husband!Chris x Busty!Mom!Reader are married they’re attached to the hip, as if they’re teenagers in love, but with two kids also attached to the hips. Chris and Mom!Reader go on date nights every week, and go on small vacations every two months, an overnight getaway every two weeks. So they’re very much in love. Chris and Leon have their father son dates ALL THE TIME, even more than him and Y/n😭 It’s no secret that Mom!Reader gets ogled at all the time due to her extremely well gifted chest, but if Chris caught someone… That’s another story.

“Oi, Watch it. Don’t you have any respect for women?!” He’d shout while pushing the stroller of his baby girl, and holding Leon’s hand in the other; Y/n chuckling down the grocery aisle listening to her husband shout at the stranger. Once they get home, kids are getting their precious nap times or get dropped off at Chris’ mom’s house who absolutely loves Leon and Lana.

With Y/n still wearing front clasped bras, Chris easily opens her button up and unclasps causing her breasts to bounce out in the open, leading to a whole night of activities of Chris reminding her who she belongs to, and specifically who her tits belong to

#faesthoughts #chris evans x single!mom!reader #fae chris thoughts

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pagesoflauren · 2 years

Text

House of Stone (4/5)

feat. professor!Andy Barber x student!single mom!reader

Premise: Spin-off/sequel to Wooden Façade; Settling into his new life as a bachelor, Andy is helping his brother Ari prepare for his wedding to their mother’s former nurse. Between wedding planning and teaching, you enter his life and your eccentric one-year-old daughter catches his attention.

Warnings: mentions of sudden death, divorce, familial conflicts, spousal conflicts, a custody battle, pregnancy, and Parkinson’s disease; Laurie Barber slander; teacher-student friendship; romantic/sexual tension; awkward and cringey moments; blindsiding siblings (Ari and Bunny are menaces to Andy); Andy wears glasses and is a hot professor

A/N: This portion of House of Stone covers a FICTIONAL custody battle. While I have tried my best to do research and depict everything as accurately as possible, I do not claim to have any professional knowledge of custody battle proceedings. This is fanfiction. Please take it as such. Advice is always welcome, but hurtful and rude comments will be removed and the commenter will be blocked.

Important to note that the events of Defending Jacob do not occur before, during, or after this series. Andy and Laurie are divorced and Jacob lives with Laurie.

Thank you as always to @eightcevanscentral

Read Wooden Façade here

House of Stone Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Andy places his glasses on his nose, blinking a few times to relieve the strain in his eyes as they try to focus on the evidence in front of him.

Initially, there was an arrangement between the two of you to split the cost of a Family & Custody lawyer. Andy tried his best to use all the resources available to him to find the best one, but Troy’s parents’ lawyer had other plans.

Every lawyer he had called and presented your case to had declined on the basis that they had already met with Troy’s parents.

Andy grew irate, throwing in the towel and realizing if he wants something done, he’d have to do it himself.

Still, you offered to pay.

“I don’t want your money, Teddy.”

“But, Andy, I couldn’t possibly–that’s so much work on top of what you already do as a professor, please–”

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, placing his hand on top of yours. “Nobody would be a better lawyer for this than me. Let me take care of it.”

So, here he was on a Saturday night, running on three hours of sleep and organizing documents showing your clock hours at work, payments to your aunt’s daycare, and your transcripts at the university instead of grading papers.

Andy had called your aunt and cousin to testify on your behalf. With them, there was a solid case for you to keep Ivy. Still, you worried nonetheless. If he was honest, he was nervous too. He knew any level of custody granted to Troy’s parents would be a break in the dam; the water would surely engulf you and sweep Ivy away.

Still, he would do his damn best to make sure you wouldn’t lose her.

- - - - -

“Calling the case of Abernathy vs. Y/L/N for the custody of Ivy Paige Abernathy to order.”

The judge taps her gavel twice and a hush falls over the courtroom.

You exhale shakily, fingers folded on top of the table while your hands tremble. Another hand covers yours, squeezing tightly. Looking to your left, Andy gives you a reassuring smile.

Deep breaths, he mouths.

You nod, drawing in air through your nose and breathing out through your mouth. Craning your neck, you spy Ivy sitting quietly with your aunt and Winnie.

Seeing her now, she’s so big, grown so much since she was born. You remember looking into her face during endless nights, sobbing as she slept. Resigning yourself to being a single mother wasn’t easy and some days it’s still hard to get out of bed. Everything you do is for her; you recall so many moments when you were happy to be in her company.

“It’s you and me, Ivy,” you’d say to her. “I will never leave you.”

Your lip trembles at the thought that any of the coming nights could be the last one you spend with her.

“Mr. Siegel,” the judge addresses their lawyer, “You may stand and make the opening statement for the plaintiff.”

Slowing down your breaths, you try to keep yourself composed as the lawyer representing Troy’s parents stands.

“Your honor, Benjamin and Constance Abernathy tragically lost their only child, Troy, nearly two years ago. While they have many dear memories of him, they have been wrongly barred from seeing their only grandchild; the child that Troy fathered. Today, they’re here, fighting for rights they shouldn’t need to fight for because the defendant continues to act selfishly to keep her daughter to herself.”

Your hands unfold, closing into tight fights as your muscles begin to tighten. Next to you, Andy tenses as well, inhaling sharply.

Looking around, you see the judge nodding intently. Her eyes flicker toward you every once in a while and you don’t like the impression you’re passively making on her built on lies being eloquently spewed out by a lawyer.

The stenographer types quickly, putting every accusation on the record. Your heart sinks; you don’t feel confident in your chances.

“This trial shouldn’t even need to happen. As grandparents–Ivy’s last connection to her father– they are entitled to at least partial custody for Ivy.”

He sits down, and Troy’s parents appear to cry.

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you look at them. You considered them an extension of your family once; they welcomed you with open arms, fed you, kept you safe, and gave generously.

Now, they were trying to take away your entire world. Perhaps it was some strange form of retribution. You suspect they believe that if Troy hadn’t been with you the night he died, maybe he would still be here today.

The judge turns to you and Andy. “Mr. Barber, please stand and make the opening statement for the defendant.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Andy nods, standing. He smooths down his jacket and looks at you once more before facing the judge.

“Ma’am, Miss Y/L/N is a single mother pursuing a law degree to give her daughter a better life. Her world revolves around Ivy. When she and Mr. Troy Abernathy first discovered she was pregnant, they were immediately cut off from support systems with the exception of one relative, who continues to care for Ivy to this day. That relative is looking after Ivy presently.

“If Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy wanted to care for Ivy, they would have been providing care for her without the need for a lawsuit based on no foundations. Their attorney claims they have been ‘wrongfully barred,’ from seeing their granddaughter. However, he failed to mention that they attempted to forcibly take Ivy away a week after she was born when my client was in an extremely vulnerable position. She was still recovering from giving birth and mourning the man she loved.”

Andy swallows, pressing down the hurt that rises in his chest at the idea that you loved someone before you met him, and if he hadn’t died, you most likely would’ve still been with him.

Clearing his throat, he continues, “The plaintiff calls my client selfish. I can assure you that the evidence we have and testimonies of witnesses can prove that she is not. She is a single mother doing everything she can to make sure her daughter does not know a day of pain.”

He sits back down and looks at you. Your eyes are watery and you throw him a half-hearted smile, something to show your gratitude. He can see past the smile, sensing your nerves fraying as you listen to the judge tell the Abernathys they can move forward with testimonies.

Constance goes to the stand first. You remember her being so warm and gentle; nothing like the stoic face she wears as she approaches the stand, placing her hand on the Bible and swearing to tell the truth.

She sits and Siegel stands to question her.

“Mrs. Abernathy, would you please explain your relationship to Miss Y/L/N?”

She sighs shortly. “She was like my daughter. We adored her; it was easy to. She made my son happy and she got along with me and my husband very well.”

“How did your relationship change?”

Another sigh, a longer one this time. “When it was found out she was pregnant, she made him cut all contact with us.”

Your fists clench in your lap. So much for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, you think to yourself.

You recall Andy advising you to control your emotions as much as possible. The ability to keep a neutral face diminishes with every word Constance says.

She sniffles as she finishes, manufactured tears slipping down her cheeks as her lawyer tells her she can step down.

Benjamin goes next, spewing more lies to bury you deep in a trench you may never hope to get out of. Your heart nearly stops when your name is called to come to the stand.

Legs shaking, you rise from your chair and nearly forget how to walk. Every step is a conscious effort as you do your best to move forward and ignore the looks being thrown your way.

The bailiff holds up a Bible and instructs you to raise your right hand.

“Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you, God?”

Your mouth opens, but words struggle to come out. Paralyzed by your nerves, you know hesitation does not help your case at all.

“I-I do,” you manage, then clear your throat. “I do solemnly swear.”

“You may take a seat.”

The walled-in seat of the stand looks claustrophobic. Your movements are clumsy as you step in and lower yourself into the chair. On this side of the courtroom, next to the judge and so far away from Andy, you feel vulnerable; a sitting duck to be struck down at any moment. Locking eyes with Andy, he motions for you to breathe. Drawing air into your chest, you blink away tears.

“How are you today, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Objection,” Andy speaks. “Relevance?”

“Believe it or not, Mr. Barber, you are not the only one who cares about your client’s well-being.”

“I’ll allow it,” the judge speaks. “It’s a simple question, dear. Nothing to be afraid of.”

You nod. “I’m good–”

“Please speak up, miss, the stenographer needs to hear you.”

“I’m good,” you repeat, voice cracking.

“Good,” Mr. Siegel smiles, though you can see the venom in his eyes. “Tell me, what does a typical day look like for both you and Ivy.”

Easy question, you can answer it, you tell yourself.

“Well, I wake up at 6:30 to get ready for work, then Ivy wakes up around 7:00. I give her breakfast, usually yogurt or oatmeal. I drop her off at Rising Sun Day Care at around 8:15, 8:30 and go to work afterward. Work ends around 5, I pick up Ivy from daycare; if I have a class that evening, I pick up Winnie too because she volunteers there after school and I make dinner for all three of us. Class starts at 7:15 so I leave around 6:30 to drive to BU and come back around 10:00. Winnie then calls her mom and she comes and picks her up.”

“I see. And what kind of experience does a sixteen-year-old like Winnie have to watch a one-year-old?”

“Objection, speculation,” Andy grunts.

“Sustained.”

“Let me rephrase the question,” Mr. Siegel appeases, “What made you trust a sixteen-year-old to have the common sense to watch a one-year-old for three hours in an evening?”

“I’ve known Winnie her whole life,” you begin. “She’s always been responsible and…nurturing.” You look around to try and find the right words to defend your decision. “Her mother is a certified child caregiver and preschool director, so Winnie’s been taught how to care for young children her whole life.”

“And when did you make the decision to abandon your child in the evening to pursue a career?”

Your heart drops; what kind of question is that?

“Objection, leading.” Andy sounds angry.

“Sustained.”

“I’ll rephrase. Why pursue your career now? Why not wait until Ivy is a little bit older to pursue your degree?”

You breathe in. “We’re not…I’m not…I wasn’t in a position where I could really stand on my own and take care of her. Troy was working nonstop when I was pregnant with her and we had some savings but I had to use them for supplies and essentials. I knew I had to work to make sure I could provide for her. And I knew that being a receptionist wasn’t sustainable as a career and I just thought it would be easier to do this now so that later I wouldn’t have to leave her.”

“Plaintiff’s exhibit A,” Mr. Siegel says, grabbing a piece of paper and showing it to the judge. “Could you read this please, Miss Y/L/N?”

Taking the sheet from him, you recite a passage from a scientific study on child psychology. You know what this is; it states that children who do not receive the proper amount of affection and comfort from parents are more likely to develop a plethora of developmental and emotional disorders.

You also understand what it implies about your parenting.

“Did you consider that when you were making arrangements for Winnie to babysit for Ivy as you leave her in the evenings?”

“Objection, your honor. My client can’t see into the future.”

“But she can synthesize information from a watershed scientific study and make decisions based on the study.”

“I’ll allow it.”

You purse your lips, understanding you have to answer the question. “I don’t like leaving her in the evenings. I made that decision to establish a career for myself so that I can provide for her later in life and not have to miss out on spending time with her when she gets older.”

“And what is Ivy’s disposition when it comes to new people?”

“She loves people,” you say, “She’s very social.”

“Could it be that she’s seeking out the attention that she’s lacking from you?”

Andy shouts this time, “Objection!”

“Withdrawn.”

Your lip quivers and your vision blurs, tears streaming down your face.

“Miss, you may exit the stand.”

You tremble the entire way back to your seat, eyes cast down as the judge announces the court is adjourned for the day.

Andy ushers you out of the room and your aunt sweeps you into her arms as you all gather in the corridor of the courthouse.

“Oh, my dear,” she coos, “I’m so sorry it started out this way.”

You can’t muster the words to express your despair and anxiety, only sobbing into the shoulder of her blazer.

“Let’s get some food,” Winnie suggests quietly, passing a hand over your hair and propping Ivy up on her hip.

“Momma,” Ivy whines, reaching for you.

Your stomach grumbles loudly as you take her and your aunt teases you while reminding you it’s important to take care of yourself during this time.

Nodding, you wipe your tears and take a deep breath, pressing a kiss to Ivy’s cheek to help ground you.

“Andy,” your aunt calls to him. He looks up from his phone. “Would you like to join us?”

“I’d love to but,” he sighs, “I can’t. It’s my son, I have to pick him up.”

“Okay, well, we’ll see you next time.”

“Yeah,” he nods. His eyes lock with you and he pulls you and Ivy in for a hug. “It’ll be okay.”

You don’t react beyond an exhale; no nod, no headshake, nothing to indicate your hope. His heart sinks, but he releases you, wishing he could be in two places at once.

Before he can fully part from you, he feels a tug on his neck. Looking down, his tie is fisted in Ivy’s little hand. When his eyes meet hers, he sees the worry on her face.

“Deedee,” she mumbles sadly.

She pulls again, urging him closer, and presses her face into his cheek, a small comforting kiss.

“Aww, thank you, baby bear,” he coos quietly. Then, he looks at you. “I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”

He can see you steeling your face, trying to mask your emotions behind a look of false bravery. Sighing, he says a final goodbye and wishes he could be in two places at once.

- - -

“Jacob,” Andy calls as he rolls down the window of his car, “the hell are you doing out here?”

“I just wanted to spend time with you,” he shrugs.

Sighing, Andy reaches over and opens the passenger door. “Get in, I’ll park in the garage and we’ll go in together.”

They’re silent on their way to the apartment, but once inside, Andy interrogates him again. “You called me a bunch of times and I saw your texts, but why didn’t you just wait? I would’ve picked you up from your mom’s.”

Jacob looks guilty as his eyes drift to the floor. “I just…couldn’t wait.”

Sensing there’s something more that his son doesn’t want to talk about yet, Andy decides to drop the subject. “Well, next time, just try to wait until I can pick you up. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had gotten hurt.”

Nodding, Jacob looks at his father before rushing him, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning on his shoulder.

Andy is taken aback, not accustomed to the show of affection from his son. He hasn’t seen him often in the past two years and it almost feels new. With an exhale, he hugs him too, patting his head.

“What do you want for dinner?”

- - - - -

Since the first day in court, Jacob had been coming every weekend, sometimes more than a weekend. It led to more interactions between Andy and Laurie, figuring out driving arrangements so that not all of the transportation was her responsibility.

“Morning, Dad,” Jacob smiles, coming into the kitchen.

“Morning, kid,” he replies, pointing to the plate set up for him on the dining table.

“Did you make pancakes?”

“And bacon and eggs; and you’re gonna finish your plate. You need a…”

“Balanced breakfast,” Jacob finishes for his father. “I know.”

They sit at one end of the table and Jacob dishes on his experiences at school.

“...and finals suck.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Andy smirks, piercing a piece of pancake on his fork, “Your teachers hate finals too.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think we like grading?”

Jacob shrugs, a silent answer of, You have a point. As he chews on a slice of bacon, he looks toward the documents littering the other side of the table. “Are those all the papers you have to grade?”

“Oh, no,” Andy shakes his head. “That’s…uh. Well, I took a case.”

“What?” his son asks incredulously. “Are you serious? I thought you were done with that.”

“Thought I was too, but it was a special circumstance.”

“What do you mean?”

Andy pauses, trying to figure out how much he can share without being indiscreet. “One of my students is a single mom of a one-year-old. Her boyfriend died before their daughter was born, and now his parents are trying to claim custody of the girl.”

“Like…like full custody?” Jacob prods. “They wanna take her away?”

“Mhmm.”

“Why?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Andy shakes his head. “But sometimes people don’t have good reasons for their actions, you know?”

He sees his son deflate a little. “That’s awful. She must be really upset.”

Swallowing, Andy feels his heart squeeze at the memory of your devastated face as you cried and told him what was happening.

“She is. That’s why I’m helping her.”

Jacob nods and bites off another serving of bacon, looking thoughtful as he chews. “Can I help?”

“What have I told you about talking with your mouth–”

He swallows quickly and washes his food down with a drink of juice before repeating the question, “Can I help? You know, help you look through the documents and stuff? I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Andy’s surprised. He’s not sure where this eagerness to help comes from. He’s more familiar with the practice of side-by-side working with his son; he recalls nights when he would stay up reviewing evidence while his son constructed projects on the floor.

Working with his son was new. But not a bad kind of new.

He smiles. “I think that’d be great.”

- - -

The day flies by as the Barber boys fry their brains looking at page after page and writing notes based on the information they’ve gathered. They’ve moved from the dining table to the floor, papers spread out everywhere in some sort of organized chaos. Fueled by greasy pizza and garlic bread, they realize while Ivy’s grandparents don’t have much of a leg to stand on for claiming full custody, there’s not much that can stop the judge from granting them partial custody.

They have no criminal history, no financial troubles, and live in a good neighborhood.

“Hey dad,” Jacob says with his mouth full again.

Andy ignores it, swallowing a bite of pizza and burping a little. “What is it?”

“You’re getting a call. ‘Daria Ahmandi.’”

Furrowing his brows, he takes the phone and answers the call, “Daria.”

“Hi, Andy, sorry to call you on a weekend but earlier this week, I finally got your message about the custody battle for…Abernathy. Ivy Abernathy?”

“Oh,” Andy sighs, “Right. I’m sorry to have bothered you, I ended up taking the case–”

“That’s perfect, then,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“The name of the girl caught my attention, and then in your message, you mentioned Troy Abernathy, and I remembered I wrote his will.”

The world stands still for a moment as Andy processes what she’s saying. He reaches for Jacob, hearing an audible smack.

“Ow! Dad, what the–”

Looking at his son as he holds his nose, Andy realizes he accidentally hit him in the face.

“Sorry, kiddo, but write this down. Quickly!”

He watches his son scramble to grab his pencil and a notepad before nodding. Removing the phone from his ear, he puts the call on speaker so that Jacob can take notes.

“Daria, you wrote his will?”

“Yes.”

“Jacob, was there a will in any of these documents?”

“Um…” Jacob begins to look around.

“Andy, you won’t find the will there because it was never fulfilled.”

“What do you mean?”

“I reached out to his parents after his death to discuss the execution of his will because they were named caretakers of his assets but they never replied.”

“Who was supposed to receive his assets?” It’s a bit of a dumb question; Andy can probably guess.

“Ivy Paige Abernathy and Y/N Y/L/N, his girlfriend at the time–I think he was planning to propose to her. And she’s Ivy’s mother, I understand.”

“Yes, yes, she is,” Andy says, locking eyes with his son and smiling.

Checkmate.

- - - - -

“Defense calls Benjamin Abernathy to the stand.”

Your head whips toward Andy to look at him.

What the hell is he doing?

Shrugging, Benjamin approaches the stand and sits down, crossing his legs and foldings his hands as he waits for Andy to question him.

“Mr. Abernathy, do you know the name of Ivy’s pediatrician?”

“Objection, your honor. Relevance.”

For a moment, you almost agree with Mr. Siegel. You don’t know where Andy is going with this line of questioning.

“Your honor, this kind of question speaks to whether the Abernathys are capable of caring for Ivy. Mr. Abernathy should have no problem answering basic questions about his granddaughter.”

“Objection overruled. Answer the question, Mr. Abernathy.”

His eyes drift to the side for a moment before shaking his head. “Um, not off the top of my head, no.”

“Her name is Dr. Barra. Do you know if she has any allergies?”

“Troy never had any allergies, so I assume not.”

You huff quietly to yourself, knowing that doesn’t make any sense.

“She’s allergic to penicillin and peaches. Do you know what her favorite stuffed animal is?”

“Surely it’s the little elephant Constance and I gave her the week after she was born.”

“If you had been paying attention and looked at her the entire time you were on the stand, you would see that it’s the stuffed monkey her father gifted her before his passing.”

You look back at the seating area, finding Ivy in your aunt’s lap playing with the toy in question.

“It is clear, Mr. Abernathy, that you know nothing about this child. So why are you so adamant you know what’s best for her?”

“Well, we would know these things if Y/N had let us take on more of a role with Ivy.”

He looks right at you as he makes the jab. You swallow, doing your best to keep your trust in Andy about this.

“Why wait until now? If this was about being there for Ivy, why not support Miss Y/L/N during her pregnancy?”

Benjamin makes a show of looking down as if he was taking a moment to mourn his son. Andy bites the inside of his cheek. If he could, he would’ve told him to drop the act.

“Objection, your honor. We’ve made it clear that Miss Y/L/N cut contact between herself and Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy.”

The judge thinks for a moment. “Overruled. Answer the question, Mr. Abernathy.”

Benjamin sighs. “We were in mourning, we needed time to process everything.”

“I understand,” Andy nods. He hears a scoff from behind him, probably Constance. “No, I do,” he turns back. “But you and your wife mourn your son by leaving his fiancée alone with no resources?”

“We weren’t in any shape to take care of anyone, let alone a pregnant woman.”

Andy’s stoic face drops for a moment, satisfaction settling over him knowing he got him right where he wants him.

“You say you were in no condition to take care of another person, much less the mother of your grandchild,” Andy begins, walking back to the Defendant's table and swiping up two folders.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Andy hands one folder to the judge and the other to Benjamin.

“Defense’s exhibits F, G, H, I, and J; the last will of Mr. Troy Benjamin Abernathy; a letter from his lawyer, Mrs. Daria Amandhi, to Mr. Benjamin Abernathy and Mrs. Constance Abernathy in pursuit of executing said will; mortgage payments for the estate of Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy; a receipt of first-class airline tickets to the French Riviera; and the receipt and licensure for a new boat currently docked at Cape Cod.”

At the words “last will,” you sit up on alert. Troy had a will? He never told you.

“You say you were ‘in mourning,’ yet you and Mrs. Abernathy were able to handle your son’s estate, including draining his bank accounts and liquifying his assets.”

“Those things needed to be done, they weren’t easy.”

“No, but it was easy to leave a pregnant woman nearly destitute?”

“She had no claim to our son’s assets.”

“Oh, she didn’t? Please, read aloud from the paper labeled Exhibit F on the top left corner.”

Putting on his glasses, Benjamin flicks through the papers before finding the one he needs.

“‘I, Troy Benjamin Abernathy, being of full age and of sound mind and memory, do make, publish, and declare this to be my last Will and Testament. All the rest of my assets, both liquid and otherwise, I leave to my unborn child in the care of Y/N Y/L/N.’”

You cover your mouth to try and hide your shock. Tears prick the back of your eyes. Your heart wants to leap because Troy thought to do this, but this betrayal is just another added to the pile, weighing you down as you sink into anger.

“Let the record state that the unborn child mentioned is Ivy Paige Abernathy,” Andy addresses the stenographer before turning back to Benjamin. “Did you know this document existed?”

“This is clearly falsified.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Abernathy, that it is not. In fact, he sought out a lawyer two weeks after the doctor’s appointment confirming the pregnancy. You can see the date written at the top of the document, showing that it was filed four months before he passed away.”

Benjamin looks over the document, color draining from his face.

“It quite clearly lists my client as the recipient of your son’s life insurance, bank account, and assets. Additionally, it states a trust should be set up for his unborn child. Has this trust been established, Mr. Abernathy?”

“We-we used the money to pay for his funeral…”

“Really?” Andy feigns shock. “Did the funeral also include paying off the mortgage on your house, a brand new boat, and a trip to France–those expenses equaling the total value of your son’s estate?”

Benjamin flounders as he formulates his response, “We-we didn’t know about the existence of this document.”

“Even if that were true, sir, which I know is not as you can clearly see in Defense’s Exhibit G, your son’s attorney attempted to contact you in the days after his death. If you really truly cared about your grandchild, why would you not take her father’s money and establish a bank account in her name to set her up for the future?”

You want to scream at both him and Constance. How could they do this to you?!

Benjamin’s face begins to flush, stammering out his response, “I don’t see why I’m being attacked for this. Y/N’s parents didn’t help her either!”

Seeing red, you nearly explode but Andy comes to your defense.

“Her parents chose not to be involved and have been consistent in that choice. Unlike you and your wife. And by denying my client access to the assets that were legally hers, you forced her to work days and attend school at night to make a better life for Ivy. You were trying to exacerbate the situation in your favor, weren’t you?”

“No!” he bursts, “Going back to school was her choice.”

“Correct. But let me reiterate: it was a choice she had to make because you denied her access to assets that were hers. By being forced to work during the day, you took her away from Ivy without even being in the room. So the conditions that you have presented that you claim make her an unfit mother are conditions you created based on your decisions to withhold money that was hers.

“Instead of doing what your son trusted you to do, you didn’t. Therefore, it can be assumed that you don’t care about Ivy. You and your wife have burned through the last of your son’s money and are now trying to take the last thing he left behind: his daughter.”

“That’s a lie!”

“I don’t blame you, sir. You want to hold on to what’s left of your boy. But you have no rights here. In fact, you’re looking at a lot more legal trouble in your future.”

“Ob-Objection, your honor–!”

“Withdrawn. I’m done,” Andy interrupts, quickly glancing at the lawyer before looking at the judge. “Your honor, I move to have the case dismissed based on a lack of foundation of evidence that my client is an unfit mother for Ivy.”

“Your honor, I–”

“I think I’ve heard and seen enough, Mr. Siegel,” the judge interjects firmly. “Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy, I cannot begin to express how much time you have wasted on my part, on your counselor’s part, on Miss Y/L/N’s part, on Mr. Barber’s part–I could go on and on. This was clearly a claim filed with malicious intent to further rob a woman of a child that is rightfully hers. Furthermore, your case was not only built on false claims but also based on circumstances that you two have created for her. And I would argue that you did this knowingly.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the judge turns as she addresses you, “I would like to formally apologize to you. Nothing can compensate you for your time and the emotional distress you have faced while this case has been open. However, this is by far one of the easiest decisions I have ever made. It is this court’s decision to award full custody to Miss Y/L/N. Additionally, this court demands the plaintiffs to pay the full amount of what Miss Y/L/N is entitled to per Mr. Troy Benjamin Abernathy’s last will and testament and any additional costs, including fees Miss Y/L/N has incurred as a result of this trial. Case dismissed.”

- - - - -

You’re embarrassed as you stumble a little on the way from Andy’s car into your apartment. Feeling your face heat up as you steady yourself against the wall, you glance over your shoulder.

Everyone encouraged you to indulge at dinner after leaving the courthouse. You think it was the biggest meal you ever had; three courses including a cake all to yourself and a very generous glass of wine. The drink hit you harder than you anticipated, but Ivy is none the wiser to your inebriated state, fast asleep in Andy’s arms as he reaches for you with his free hand.

“You okay?” he chuckles.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “I haven’t had much alcohol since I found out I was pregnant with her,” you sigh. “I used to be able to hold it better.”

“Well, who can fault you for that?” he smiles, making your knees go weak. “You’re a good mother, Teddy.”

He steadies you as you walk the rest of the way to the door. Stopping to dig in your bag for your keys, your eyes rest on your daughter.

“I try,” you say as you reach out to stroke her hair.

“That’s all you can do.”

Smiling at his reassurance, you turn back to open the door and flip the light switch. Andy goes straight to Ivy’s room to set her on her bed and you retreat to your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes.

Your business casual outfit scratches uncomfortably against your skin, leaving you relieved when you pull on Troy’s old college shirt and some sleep shorts. Coming back to the living room, you find Andy unpacking Ivy’s bag.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you breathe. “You’ve…you’ve done more than enough for her.”

“I’m happy to do it,” he smiles, setting the last of her toys back in the storage bin.

“I can’t thank you for everything you’ve done,” you tell him shyly as he stands. You look down, fiddling with your fingers. “For her and for me.”

Hooking a finger under your chin, Andy tilts your head up to look at him. “You don’t have to thank me.”

You dare to place your hand on the center of his chest, hearing the fabric crinkle under your palm. Your gaze flickers from his eyes to his mouth and every fiber of your body screams for one thing.

Leaning up, you capture his lips with yours, sighing happily when he returns it, wrapping his arms around you. You dart your tongue out and he pulls away, stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” you’re quick to apologize.

“No, Ted, no,” he cups your face and kisses your forehead. “That’s not it,” he mumbles against your skin, voice rumbling soothingly.

“Then what is it?”

“You’re drunk,” he states plainly, licking his lips and tasting traces of wine from your kiss. “And you’re still my student.”

You huff.

His thumb taps on your lower lip, making you retract your pout. “June 11th.”

“What?”

“June 11th,” he repeats. “The day after you graduate. That’s when I’m taking you and Ivy out to dinner. I’ll be coming into some extra cash pretty soon, so I’d like to spoil my girls.”

Your knees finally buckle and you both giggle as he catches you.

My girls.

You and Ivy are his girls. It’s a dreamy thought and you look at the calendar to remind yourself of today’s date. “It’s April 28th,” you sigh, leaning your head on his chest. “June is so far away.”

“I know, Teddy, but I don’t wanna jeopardize your degree.”

“And your job.”

“Oh, fuck my job,” he laughs. “If I could, I’d…”

He never finishes his sentence, leaving so many unsaid desires hanging in the air. The two of you stand there in dissatisfaction, stuck in an unfortunate situation. It's only a matter of time, but he's here now and you're impatient.

“June 11th,” you agree reluctantly, looking up at him and smoothing down a stray strand of hair on the side of his head. “We’ll be free.”

Smiling, he dares to steal one more kiss. “It’s a date.”

Chris tag: @onetwo3000 @patzammit @astheworlddturns @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @maeleeme @tvckerlance @thiskindahotkindamusic @fizzahocleirigh @marantha @justile

Wood & Stone Taglist: @ghotifishreads @buckysteveloki-me @blackwidownat2814 @wsoldat @sn0wpiercer @aynanasstuff @fluffysmutmnstr @emerald-evans @abbatoirablaze @justalonelyslytherin @mrswidowjohansson @majo240820

#Andy Barber #Andy Barber fanfiction #Andy Barber fanfic #Andy Barber x reader #Andy Barber x single mom!reader #Andy Barber fluff #Andy Barber angst #Chris Evans fanfiction #Chris Evans character #House of Stone #ficsofpagesoflauren

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hysteria-things · 2 months

Text

THREE

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: chris doesn’t remember his promise, but you do.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLASHBACK, blood, crying, anxiety attack

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 750

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i don’t mean for these parts to be kinda short but it’ll get longer trust!

i wrote five things today my head HURTS SO BAD

spring break at last. the breeze hits when you get out of the minivan, little twelve-year-old you and the triplets go sprinting to the hockey rink that’s placed just outside of the playground.

marylou and jimmy were on pickup duty today for school, and because it’s friday, they took you guys to the park. your favorite place to go to with your best friends.

chris holds the rink gate open for you, and you sit down on the bench. the boys want to skate with you since you know how. you’re not as good as them, though. they’re naturals at this.

nick and matt put on their skates in seconds and go into the rink, while chris hands you his old ones that don’t fit him anymore but they do fit you. you slide them on and they fit like a glove, grunting when you struggle to get the clip on.

chris drops his left skate next to him. “let me do it.” he says, getting up from the bench with the single skate he has on and kneeling to help you.

you watch as he clips it; even tying the laces for you. you smile. “thanks.”

once his skates are secure, he joins his brothers. the three skate like mad around the rink as you slowly go around the rail, holding onto the wall from time to time.

once you get the hang of it, you feel confident enough to let go to move faster. you hear the cheers once you let go, rolling your eyes playfully.

chris makes sure to stay close enough to you just in case. you guys talk, not paying attention as much as you should…

because in seconds, a rock gets caught on your wheel and you fall forward onto the hard ground. “y/n!” chris exclaims in shock, skating to you and sitting on the ground.

“what happened?” matt asks, he and nick joining you guys on the ground.

tears spill out of your eyes, a huge cut on your leg. you’re bleeding nonstop, which doesn’t help the sobs leaving your lips.

you hate blood. whenever you see it you get severely lightheaded.

as in right now. you can’t help but stare at it, feeling dizzy the longer you do. you’re too busy staring you don’t realize the chatter around you, along with nick’s voice shouting from the playground. “mom, dad! y/n fell! she’s bleeding real bad!”

your breathing picks up. “ch-chris. it hurts— it’s ble-eding a lot.” you say between sobs.

“don’t look at it,” he replies calmly, taking your head and bringing it to his chest. his arm blocks the cut from your vision.

you close your eyes to try to catch your breath, and then you hear scurrying next to your ear. a bag plops on the floor, and matt pulls out his first aid kit.

no matter what, he always has one in his bag just in case.

it’s not deep to where you need stitches, but you got cut pretty good that it’ll definitely leave a scar.

matt lifts your leg onto his knee since he’s sitting criss-cross applesauce, taking a gauze out of a baggy. “matt’s going to put gauze on, okay? it might hurt a little.” chris says so you know what’s going on even though you can’t see.

you wince from the shock of pain, but the gauze does help with the bleeding. “now he’s going to put a big bandaid on.”

matt unwraps the bandaid, gently placing it on the cut. he tries his best to clean up as much blood as he can on your leg, but there’s a drop stain down your leg.

chris lets you go, and you glance down at the now-covered wound. you take three deep breaths just as their parents come rushing into the rink with nick. “oh dear.” marylou exclaims, coming over to help you off of the ground. “let’s get you home. you’re going to have to clean it as soon as you get there.”

chris switches places with his mother, lifting you slightly off of the ground so you don’t put as much pressure on your leg when you walk back to the car. matt and nick walk next to the two of you.

you’re more calm now, but your eyes are still red and puffy. “thank you guys for helping me.” you mumble.

chris smiles. “of course. we’ll always be here for you.”

you look at him in the eyes. “promise?”

“i promise.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #[ ✿ ] promise?

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cherriesformatt · 1 month

Note

Hi could I request Matt x reader

They are in their senior year of Highschool and it’s prom season.The reader is sad because she never had any romance in her life and dreams of a promposal.Matt really likes the reader and even though he doesn’t like bring attention to him he surprises the reader.

promposal || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff!

word count: 1,1k

a/n: I hope you like it and I did not ruin the idea!

🍒

I came home and tossed my bag and car keys on the cubby.

"Hi! I'm home!" I yelled to check if anyone was back from work or in case of my brother from school.

Only echo answered me and I sight of relief because the last thing I wanted was to small talk with everyone how my day was.

I went to my room, stripped from my clothes and wrapped my body in white, fluffy robe. I took change of clothes, my phone and dragged my feet to my parents master bathroom. They had huge bath tube and my mom had all those fancy stuff from TikTok to make a relaxing bath.

I made myself one with lots of bubbles and got in. I didn’t put any bath bomb or candles because it would give me a headache. The only thing I did was putting music on from my phone on the speaker in the bathroom.

I hated today. And all of this week to be honest.

It was this time of the year again. Senior year to be specific. Thats why I hated it even more because it's the last time ever for that.

For prom.

Everyone including my best friends were proposed to go to prom by their boyfriends. In every cute way possible. I was only there to fake smile and be happy for them but also a little jealous. Because here is the thing.

I was always so focused on school and soccer that I never, ever let any boy near me. It is a miracle that my best friends are still my friends. I was single through all high school, never went on any date and when I rejected some boys no-one asked me again. Which brings us here, I also was never asked to go for a prom. This time it was a little sad because it is going to be my last prom.

"I hate myself" I said and made my body to go under hot water while Frank Ocean was playing in the room.

I stayed like that for a second but I heard my music stopped for a massage notification so I sat back up and took my phone from the ground next to the bath tube splashing some water on the floor.

I checked the massage and I was a little surprised. It was from Matt Sturniolo. I knew him because his brother Chris was dating my best friend Maggie. He sometimes drives us to parties or games. He and his triplet brothers played hockey and lacrosse in our school. They were pretty good. Nick also did our yearbook this year. Matt and I never really had any class together and beside knowing him as Chris's brother I didn't really spend time with him. He didn’t usually stay at parties after games and even if he did he spent time with his team mates I did with mine.

I smiled a little. Was he kind of asking me out? What should I do?

Wasn't I just complaining that nobody asked me out?

And I said yes.

What am I even going to wear? It’s march and it’s going to be cold on the beach.

I spend and hour in the bath and than I ate early dinner and started to get ready.

I did blow out on my hair and put a light make up on. I didn’t want to look like I care too much. I put some jeans on and a hoodie with white Air Force 1. They had blue flowers custom painted for me on them by one of my friends.

When I got a text massage from Matt that he is waiting outside a little before 7 I told my parents I’m leaving and took my purse and locked the door behind me.

He was leaning on his car and smiled when he saw me. He looked nice. We kinda matched the outfits. He also was wearing a hoodie and jeans and white air forces.

“Hi… it’s nice to see you not on the field next to mine” he said.

That’s true. We usually just had practice or a game next to each other.

“Same to you… you stole my outfit tho” I laughed as he opened car doors for me.

“I can live with matching your outfit” He smiled looking at me and he closed the doors and went to the driver seat.

We drove to the beach talking about everything and nothing. Mostly about sports and music and the midterms.

“We’re here let’s go?” He smiled when we parked.

I got out of the car and he came to me.

“Okay I know it will sound weird but can you close your eyes? And not peek?” Ha asked me.

He was nervous?

“Okay…. But if you want to kill me my dad is going to find you and probably kill your brother for accident” I said closing my eyes and sticking my hand out for him.

He giggled at what I said and toon my hand to lead me.

Sun was setting already so it is going to be dark soon. I’m not sure what we are doing here.

I heard some sounds as we were walking on the sand but mostly it was sound of the ocean.

“Okay I’m going to let go of your hand… don’t open your eyes just yet” he said.

He dropped my hand and I stand waiting for him to tell me to open my eyes. I heard some voices too.

What the hell is happening.

“Okay… you can open your eyes now” Matt said from somewhere in front of me.

I opened my eyes and they automatically widened.

There was some lanterns going up into the sky. Like I my favorite movie.

Tangled.

I looked at them and then down to see where they are coming from. Whole lacrosse and hockey team were putting them up.

There he was standing in the middle with a poster that said:

Light up my night at prom?

And there was a painting of the tower from the movie. It was beautiful. I bet Maggie did it.

Nobody ever did anything like that for me.

“Matt what the hell?” I said coming up to him I’m pretty sure I had tears in my eyes now.

“Sooo?” He looked at me unsure of my reaction.

“Of course..” I said looking at him and wiped my cheeks with my hoodies sleeve.

Whole teams started cheering and I laughed.

“How did you even know? That I like the movie…” I asked.

“Well I talked to Chris and Chris talked to Maggie and you know…” he scratched back of his neck.

“Gosh I feel like I could kiss you right now…” I whispered.

He smiled and put one of his hands on my cheek and the other one wondered on my back to pull me closer to him. He looked deep in my eyes looking for reassurance but I just connected our lips together.

It couldn’t get any better. The best promposal I could ask for.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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maochira · 1 year

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Masterlist: Blue Lock

Request rules

The numbers next to the names indicate how many things I have written for them (excluding most posts from series, I only add something from a series to a character masterlist if the character is the main focus!)

Series/compilation/event masterlists:

Father figure coaches - Itoshi sibling!reader stories - Dad!Ego - Father figure!Ego - 100 follower writing event - Neo Egoist League assistants - Ships as parents - Blue Lock big brothers - 800 follower event

Character masterlists:

Yoichi Isagi [40]

Meguru Bachira [31]

Jingo Raichi [34]

Asahi Naruhaya [1]

Gin Gagamaru [11]

Wataru Kuon [7]

Okuhito Iemon [2]

Gurimu Igarashi [1]

Hyoma Chigiri [37]

Rensuke Kunigami [38]

Yudai Imamura

Imamura x shy!reader (headcanons)

Ikki Niko [7]

Shouei Barou [76]

Wanima brothers [6]

Zantetsu Tsurugi [32]

Reo Mikage [40]

Seishirou Nagi [30]

Aoshi Tokimitsu [47]

Jyubei Aryu [20]

Eita Otoya [18]

Kenyu Yukimiya [39]

Nijiro Nanase

Going ice skating with Nanase

Ranze Kurona [12]

Ryusei Shidou [68]

Tabito Karasu [45]

Yo Hiori [7]

Anri Teieri

Girlfriend!Anri (headcanons)

More girlfriend!Anri headcanons

Big sister!Anri (headcanons)

Single mom!Anri (headcanons)

Oliver Aiku [23]

Shuto Sendou [10]

Michael Kaiser [66]

Alexis Ness [37]

Birkenstock [6]

Benedict Grim [8]

Erik Gesner [12]

Theo Sachs [8]

Igor Schneider

Random headcanons

Dating headcanons

Igor has a crush on you (headcanons)

Ali

Random headcanons

Dating headcanons

Bachman

Dating headcanons

Don Lorenzo [31]

Jin Kiyora

Playing soccer with him at night (drabble)

Tall!reader makes Kiyora try on platform shoes (drabble)

Kiyora asks you to be his plushie (scenario)

Jinpachi Ego [17]

Noel Noa [35]

Chris Prince [22]

Lavinho [22]

Marc Snuffy [16]

Rin Itoshi [31]

Sae Itoshi [14]

Takumi Tsuyosa (OC) [7]

Satoshi Tsuyosa (OC)

Egoist Bible profile

His dynamic/relationship with Takumi

Wanting to protect Takumi

Satoshi's struggle with gender

Satoshi and Lorenzo as your parents (headcanons)

You third wheel big brother!Lorenzo's date with Satoshi (scenario)

Arisu Mochida (OC)

Egoist Bible profile

Not being used to being praised

Other things [13]

#blue lock #blue lock masterlist #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #bllk x y/n

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formulaforza · 1 year

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miss americana & the heartbreak prince masterlist

charles leclerc x female oc —what's the point of it all if you're not going to fall madly in into love?

—00. prologue

playlist social media au teaser orange show speedway

—01. all american girl

"“Because.” He doesn’t really know why he can’t land on a message, why everything he types sounds entirely too casual or formal or nothing at all like what he would say to another human being. This isn’t a problem that he’s used to having. It’s the in-person flirting that fucks him up, not the texts and DMs and comments. She was just… he doesn’t know what she was. She was just. End of sentence."

—01.5 hey google, who is christyn elliott?

—02. over the ocean call

"Chris has one student, Quinn, whose family can’t afford reduced lunch prices but also won’t request for Quinn to qualify for the free lunch. She thinks it’s an ego thing, that Quinn’s mom just isn’t able to accept that the family needs help. It’s a single parent household and the mom works two full-time jobs to try and make ends meet. After a newsletter was sent home in need of parent signatures at the beginning of the year and returned with Mama written in sloppy green crayon, Chris learned that Quinn was living a relatively self-sufficient life. As self-sufficient as a five-year-old can be."

—02.5 like real people do

—03. i think i fell in love today

"If there wasn’t something weird in the air before, there certainly is now. A new weird. A good weird. An implication of something in the air, weird. It’s out there now, just hanging above them. I want to kiss you. You can kiss me. Now all that’s left is for one of them to make the move."

—03.5 do the girls back home touch you like i do?

—04. every finger, every sigh

"She can feel eyes on her. Charles, she hopes. Charles, she can’t find in the chaos. When she does spot him, half-dead sparkler still in his hand, head drunkenly bobbing along to the beat, he’s looking right at her, grins a stupid grin and winks."

—05. monte carlo ave

"He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.” She can’t possibly understand it because he doesn’t even properly understand it, the way he feels about her. The fear he feels about losing all the indecipherable feelings. It’s just good, everything about her, about being near her. It’s all so sweet and nice and good and he really, really doesn’t want to screw it up."

—05.5 still so much I have yet to know

—06. quarter of the way

"As soon as they reach the cover of the trees, Chris is telling Hannah everything. Everything. She tells her about Austin, about how she met a guy who was just too charming to not get her number. About every nervous text and hours long FaceTime call and every picture and every conversation. She tells her about how crazy she feels, how insane she felt agreeing to fly across the world— “Wait,” Hannah questions. “You flew across the world?”"

—06.5 you're invited! welcome to dawsonville!

—07. homegrown

"It’s a twenty-three minute drive to Pig’n’Chik Barbeque in Northern Atlanta. Charles is visibly apprehensive of the little red building and the parking lot filled with the aroma of southern barbeque, but he keeps his commentary to himself. Chris knows it’s probably a little overkill, the hole-in-the wall joint being even a little too gimmicky for her taste, but that’s the whole point."

—08. it's so sweet

“I’ll be right back,” she says hurriedly, over her shoulder, letting the little girl pull her away. Charles nods and flashes her a quick wink before she’s properly whisked away, leaving him with nothing better to do than shove his hands deep in his pockets and analyze the artwork of primary school students.

—09. sweet nothing

coming soon

—10. i saw the end

coming soon

—11. the bees envy me

coming soon

—12. if i tremble

coming soon

—13. see the world

coming soon

—14. yours to keep

coming soon

—15. yours to lose

coming soon

—16. the view between villages

coming soon

—17. heaven in your eyes

coming soon

—epilogue. for the worms to eat

coming soon

#ma&thbp #mack's masterlist

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eviesaurusrex · 2 years

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ | ᴄ. ᴇᴠᴀɴꜱ

GIFs by the amazing @henricavyll

Dad!Chris Evans x Wife!Reader (DiCaprio!Reader)

summary: It’s the Lightyear world premiere in L.A.—and everyone is asking where Chris’ wife, YN, and their kids are.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: fluff, more fluff, mentions of complicated pregnancy, really short mention of traumatic child labor and death of both mother and child, double the fluff, not really proofread because I’m tired

author’s note: I don’t know where this came from. But I also don’t care because it’s my first Chris piece, and I’m excited. And for age’s sake: Leo is 15-20 years older than he actually is because I kinda forgot that he is only 47 after I already finished this one xD

“I’m standing here with actor Chris Evans on this beautiful sunny afternoon. How are you, Chris?” One of the many interviewer asked, and the man grinned shortly to the camera before focusing back on the woman in front of him, holding a microphone right under his nose. She was nervous; he could see that, so he didn’t say anything about it. He understood her on a different level. “Hi, Susan. We really had luck with the weather, didn’t we? And I’m great, thanks. I mean, how could I not be great?” He grinned again and pushed his sunglasses up. “I probably would feel the same when I voiced my longtime favorite character! How did your kids react? You have two, right?”

At the mention of his two sunbeams back home, the father couldn’t help but smile softly. It may have taken a long while to find the perfect woman and the love of his life and an even longer while to create these two joys in his life, but Chris thanked the universe every single day for the honor of having them in his life.

“I have two wonderful and beautiful children, yes, and number three is on their way. My eldest, Ophelia, was over the moon when I left my study a few months back after I had just wrapped up the call with my manager and Disney and were allowed to talk about it. She, of course, eavesdropped because she just loves to do it when it contains me and my study. And she had picked up on some parts of the conversation and had bounced up and down and asked me nonstop if it’s true and I’m playing Buzz. It’s her favorite Toy Story character, so I had a bit of pressure while doing the actual work.” He showed his thumb and pointer moving very closely together and chuckled. “Who am I kiddin’, I had a lot of pressure,” he laughed, and Susan laughed with him. “I only can imagine how it is with such a harsh critique living under the same roof. How did your second child react?” Chris grinned again, and it was visible for everyone to see in this world how much he adored his two children. “My son Aiden was much more chilled. Well, it’s not science because he only objects if someone dares to steal his share of ice cream—or cuddle time with his mom. He had only shrugged after Ophelia had screamed through the living room that I was voicing Buzz, but he was kinda excited after we watched it for the first time and heard my voice. Y’know, to see your own kids become happy and have those big round eyes just like you at your first Disney movie and the birth of your first movie heroes? It’s something entirely else. And to witness this moment while they watched Lightyear? Mindblowing, really.”

His chest was swelled with pride, and everyone around gushed over the epitome of proud fatherhood Chris was in this very moment. And he didn’t mind because he could boast all day long about his kids—and wife. Speaking of which…

“This is probably the sweetest story I’ve ever heard. Thank you for sharing this very intimate insight of your family life with us, Chris,” the interviewer thanked him with a genuine smile, but Chris only waved it off. They might keep their kids out of the spotlight to grant them the childhood he had been gifted by his parents, but they never stopped talking about them when people asked. “Is it okay if I ask about your wife and why she isn’t here today? She usually is at all your premieres and vice versa. I barely can remember a time without her at your side or you at hers, to be quite honest. You two really found one another.” Chris nodded in absolute agreement. “We really did. It was unexpected and kinda bumpy—quite literally.”

The husband remembered their first encounter at one of the Oscar Afterparties vividly where the stunning woman had bumped into him—and had driven the heel of her painful stilettos into his shoe. Ever since the actor saw these shoes with other eyes. He returned back to reality. “But we pushed through the obstacles, and I am the lucky bastard she had agreed to marry. Lucky me.” He chuckled under his breath and shook his head. YN would hit him as soon as she saw this interview, and maybe she sat in front of the tv at this very moment and watched him gushing over their family. “But back to your question, Susan. YN is currently at home, maybe watching this interview and throwing a pillow to the tv because she is heavily pregnant and can’t get up without help anymore.” Chris grinned straight into the camera. “I’m sorry, love!” He almost shouted after the exposure of her struggling state he almost loved the most about her being pregnant.

He just was a sucker for his wife when she called for him to help her with the easiest of tasks and boss him around as if there was no tomorrow. But he was a happily obliging husband because, after all, her state had been his fault. Something he would always be proud of.

“She wanted to come with me, but the doctor had put her on bed rest for the time being after we experienced a tiny scare of our little one two weeks back.” The same icy cold feeling ran his back up and down, just the same he had felt during the few hours of panic and anxiety in the depths of night when their unborn child tried to greet them earlier than agreed. And gladly, as stubborn his wife could be, she kept her word and watched out for herself and the little bub instead of ignoring every warning and trying to go head first through every wall possible. His father-in-law was a great help on days like this when Chris couldn’t be at home to watch out for his love and his tiny love. “I am sorry to hear that. But now, everything is back on track and in order?” The actor nodded, relieved. “So far, yes. But it still means I have to attend these without her calming presence, and let me tell’ya: it’s freaking scary.” And then, he laughed and shook his head. “I’ve never expected to be so lost without her. I almost forgot to lace my shoes because my head was all over the place,” he let out and still couldn’t believe how his life had changed within only a few years.

“Don’t worry, Chris, I feel the same. My life without my girlfriend? God, send some help,” Susan laughed with him, and Chris smiled thankfully. “So, I suppose you will head straight back home after the screening?” And the Evans was more than relieved to nod this question yes. “Totally. I love everyone involved in this movie, and I’m beyond grateful. However, my priorities are heading home, being greeted by Dodge and maybe the kids if they’re still awake, thanking Leo for keeping an eye on these two—more like three, Dodger included—troublemakers and his daughter, and then finally greeting my wife. We probably will watch a Disney movie, eventually waking the kids with the sounds, and everything will morph into a huge Disney sleepover on the couch. And yes, that’s the description of my personal favorite night.” He had always been a more at-home type of guy after passing a certain age, but now, it was all he could ever want.

“That sounds like a night in just like mine, minus the children. Thank you again for talking to me, Chris, and congratulations on the brilliant movie and your family. I’m definitely not the only one when I’m saying that you deserve every single bit of it,” Susan closed the interview, and Chris waved a last time to the people standing behind her before heading back to the red carpet to get the final shots for the press.

;

Chris was glad that they had settled back to L.A. for the making of Lightyear to avoid stressful last-minute flights from one side of the country to the other. He could be there if something happened at home, almost within a matter of thirty minutes tops, and Leo wasn’t busy as he usually was to help him with keeping an eye on everyone. And now, he was glad because it meant he could hold his wife in his arms after only a twenty-minute drive instead of an almost six-hour flight. He could even grab her favorite ice cream flavor on the way home.

Leaving the car and wishing Daniel, his driver for today, a good night, Chris slowly followed the pathway, flanked with blooming bushes and flowers exploding in every color there was, up to the four steps leading to the porch and door. Their L.A. house reminded him of home back in Boston, and he couldn’t wait for them to move back and relish in the family time they would have after baby number three was born.

Smiling at the sounds of an excited Dodger waiting for him, Chris took two steps at a time and opened the door to get in. His fur companion wiggled with his tail at the sight of his human, and the Evans crouched down to greet him with a loving scratch behind his ears. “How is my best boy?” He asked and chuckled as Dodger impatiently nudged his hand to follow him. He wanted to, but tiny, excited voices let him stop in his tracks.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

“Daddy’s home!”

Two tiny humans rounded the corner into the hallway at full speed, and the father could only let the bag with ice cream and snacks drop to the floor before he was attacked by the hugs of his five-year-old girl and an almost four-year-old boy. “What a greeting!” He laughed as he lifted both children in his arms and tickled squealing noises out of them. Ophelia grinned brightly—the grin almost too big for her pretty little face— while Aiden preferred to snuggle onto his father’s shoulder. It was late for him, and Chris was actually surprised at how long he had pushed through.

“Did you bring the biiiig Buzz? I saw him on TV! I want him! He is so cool and sooo big! And Sox??? They had a statue of him too! Did you see it, Daddy?? Can we go there tomorrow?? Please??”

Chris chuckled at the tsunami of questions he already had anticipated, but another voice slid into the conversation. “Lia, darling. Give your dad some time to arrive and at least to take off his shoes,” Leo quipped with a small grin on his face and stepped to his son-in-law to take the kids off him. “But, Poooops!” Ophelia pouted heavily, and even Aiden seemed not happy about the interruption of stories. “No but’s, darling. Come on; you said you wanted to bake a cake for your dad and the work is only halfway done. Plus, your mom said something about craving a banana smoothie. Who wants a banana smoothie?”

And suddenly, the world was back in order, and both kids screamed “Yes!” throughout the entire house.

Chris followed them after taking off his shoes and retrieving the paper bag again. He took one spoon from the kitchen on his way to the living room and already saw the head of his wife peeking up between thick couch pillows. The husband left the bag with snacks at the opening of the kitchen, only taking the ice cream bucket with him. He crouched behind the back of the couch and let his arm appear from behind in front of the woman he loved—ice cream presented like an offering to the gods.

“M’lady, I brought gifts,” Chris laughed softly at her gasp and grabby hands, kissing her cheek tenderly. “Fine sir, do you possess the ability of mind reading? We should consider burning you at the stake.” YN had turned her head and grinned up to him as he rounded the couch and plopped down next to her. She was dressed in one of his Red Sox shirts—usually, it would be way too big for her, but now with the ever-growing baby bump, it fitted perfectly—, yoga pants and fluffy socks under which she probably hid the pestering compression socks the doctor had prescribed for the next weeks. “Please, I beg you, don’t burn me! Who would tend to your needs, m’lady?” YN’s eyes wandered to Dodger, who had taken over his place at her side once more. Ever the protective fur baby, Chris thought with a smile. “I could train Dodge to go to the store. Remember this video with the dog and his little basket on the market? Where he bought fruits for his owner? It could be Dodger after a bit of persuasion.” The woman grinned brightly, the same grin Ophelia owned, and with one hand on his neck, she pulled his face closer to hers. Chris obliged and leaned down to press their lips together in a loving kiss, which still let butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“Hey,” Chris whispered, lips still touching, and YN sighed. “Hey,” she returned just as quiet as he and nudged his nose with hers. “Everything alright?” She could see the worry in his blue eyes, darkening them a bit, so she took his hand and put it on the right side of her still-growing bump, even though she was almost through with it. But each pregnancy held its own surprises, as she had experienced. “Of course,” she smiled at his joyful, boyish grin as he felt one of the many kicks of their third bundle of joy. Number three may be an accident because, after Aiden’s birth, they had agreed on waiting a couple more years to grant them the attention they both deserved, but everything would be okay. And she couldn’t imagine a life without bub three.

Chris bent his head down to the spot where he suspected his baby’s head and pressed a kiss on top of his… YN’s shirt. “Hey, love. Here is your daddy speaking. I hope you didn’t give your mom a hard time today, and I damn sure hope you will continue to be a good girl in a few hours when she tries to sleep—unlike the last three nights. ‘Thought we had a deal.” YN chuckled while her fingers carded through Chris’ fluffy hair but groaned at a particularly hard kick. “Love,” they both warned in unison before YN settled back into the cushions and continued to caress her husband’s hair and scalp. “A girl, huh?” She softly smiled at the man who had swept her off her feet so suddenly, she still wondered how she didn’t brake her neck in the wake of his adorable flirting endeavors she oh so happily had returned. Chris leaned his cheek against her bump, wanting to be as close as possible to his baby and wife, and her knuckles tenderly stroked over his bearded cheek. He had a boyish smile tucking at his lips. “S’just a feelin’,” he mumbled, Boston accent very prominent—just as always when he felt contentment and happiness, mostly when he was at home with his family. YN grinned down at him while slowly rubbing the spot where the tiny bub had kicked again. “You can admit that you want another girl. Nobody would be surprised, y’know? The whole internet sees you as a girl-dad,” YN winked, and Chris’ rumbling laugh almost shook her body as well. “Do they, yeah?” She nodded and tipped the tip of his nose with the pad of her finger. “Yes, they do, and we both know that you know this as well. Don’t try to fool lil’ ol’ me, Mr. Evans. I’m aware of your stalking tendencies when it comes to your fans and this family.”

Chris grinned sheepishly before sitting up and pressing another kiss to her lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs. Evans,” he whispered before commotion erupted in the kitchen and tiny feet came rushing over. “Mommy! Mommy, look! I made banana shake!” Aiden proudly presented the filled glass, and both parents were sure there would be a dripping trail of shake from the kitchen to the couch. But her father already followed with a kitchen towel in hand. “We made the banana shake,” Ophelia stressed and gave her mom the reusable straw she had carried while Aiden gave her the glass. The mother almost teared up and blinked rapidly to hide the tears. “You two are too good to me,” she sniffled before taking the first sip and hummed in utter approval. “Perfection. Maybe you should think about opening a shake shop.” Ophelia giggled while Aiden squeezed himself between Dodger and his mother. With another human, Dodger wouldn’t have any of that, but with his family, he only made space and put his head in his tiny human’s lap to get the cuddles he loved.

Meanwhile, Ophelia climbed into the spot between her mom and dad and cuddled into Chris’ side, grabbing the ice cream out of her mother’s hands and starting to steal a few spoons full of sugary delight. He had thought about getting up to change into something more comfortable, but he decided that this was much better. He could outlive a few hours without his sweatpants. Leo returned after bringing the kitchen towel into the laundry room and bent down to press a kiss to the top of his youngest daughter’s head. “I would head over if you don’t need anything else, darling,” he said, and YN looked up to him with all the love she held for this man. “Of course. Thanks again for coming over and handling everything.” She really had lucked out in the family department, even before finding Chris and creating her own perfect family with the perfect man that was her husband. The DiCaprio smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. “That’s nothing to thank me for.” And with that, he kissed his grandkids goodbye before patting his son-in-law’s shoulder. “There is a cake in the oven, but the timer is set.” Chris nodded, and after peeling a grumpy Ophelia off his side, he stood up and brought Leo to the door.

There, the older man turned again. “Before I go… I wanted to thank you, Chris, for making her so happy. You know what happened to her mother, and though it was a long time ago, it had always cast a shadow over her.” Chris knew what Leo was referring to; YN had told him about the traumatic labor her mother went through, only that she died and the baby with her. It had taken its toll on Leo, too, and the whole family had needed years to recover from it. It still amazed Chris how she had handled every pregnancy and every birth, although she knew what could go wrong. “But with you, she finally is… I can’t even describe it. Not to mention that you took her fear. So… Thank you.” Both men hugged each other closely, patted their backs reaffirmingly. “It’s an honor to love her and have her in my life because you raised one of the best women on earth. You deserve every thank I could offer you,” Chris mumbled before they let go of one another. Leonardo waved it off, but in reality, it was the proudest achievement in his life. YN and her sister were his pride and joy, just as Ophelia, Aiden, and the little one were Chris’ pride and joy. “Have a good night, Chris, and give me a call if it’s happening, yeah?” Chris nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, of course.“

Returning into the living room in his favorite sweatpants and Red Sox shirt—one of the few he actually was allowed to wear and which wasn’t claimed by his darling wife—Chris sat back next to Ophelia and out his arm on the back of the couch to softly caress YN’s neck and shoulder. “The kids decided that we’re watching Wall-E,” she let him know while his eldest already held onto the remote and scrolled through Disney+. “Daddy?” He hummed in question at Aiden’s voice. “Lia and I want see biiiiig Sox,” he told the family, and YN softly shrugged at Chris’ questioning look in her direction. “If they’re still there, why not? You two have to take a lot of pictures for me, ‘kay?” Aiden nodded with a serious expression. “Otay!” YN carded through her son’s mop of blonde hair—Chris’ genes definitely outrun hers—and changed another look with her husband, both obviously thinking the same. “You know, after your brother or sister is born, maybe we could check out Disney World and if they already have a Buzz and Sox there.” Both parents knew what mentioning Disney World would do to their kids, but they didn’t mind the explosion of tiny voices. Instead, Chris settled back right next to his wife, hand again on her bump, while they watched their children playing in the living room—Dodger was Sox, Ophelia played Izzy, and Aiden was Buzz himself.”

YN laughed softly and leaned her head onto Chris’ shoulder. “We really have a Disney obsessed family.” Chris grinned in total contentment and kissed her head. “We have, and I don’t want it any other way.”

;

I don’t know where all these words came from, but I kinda couldn’t stop writing. Even though it’s kinda shitty, I hope y’all enjoyed it! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x wife!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans one shot #chris evans oneshot #chris evans blurb #dad!chris evans #dad chris evans #husband!chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans imagines

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