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#shana talks
shanastoryteller · 7 months
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Does anyone have a matcha white chocolate chip cookie recipe they like? I have some culinary matcha I need to use
Considering just adding matcha to the Toll House recipe because that's my favorite cookie recipe but I think there's a chance that will go poorly
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zeezeecave · 5 months
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I just need for this week to finish so I can start catching up on fanfics I’ve been tagged in and outlining for you know what😭
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rob1nseggblue · 2 years
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L’Shana Tova to ocean o’connel rosenberg and ocean o’,connel rosenberg alone
she is a jew because i say so
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bubbbeleh · 2 years
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watching a loved one pray really is an experience that can’t quite be put into words
it’s so intimate and ethereal
the candle light would make your eyes sparkle if they weren’t closed. i love you
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burningthegallows · 2 years
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is there anyone out there that would be interested in a discord or other for SIAT (survival is a talent, by @shanastoryteller) fans? or is this a thing that exists already? 
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trappergirl · 1 year
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coming out as a person who doesn't get the nyc hype. its so big i don't enjoy feeling like an ant...
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lit-in-thy-heart · 2 years
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tumblr glitched and my following dash was suddenly a load of recommended posts from blogs i didn't know and i was like where are the mutuals :(((
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justsomeguycore · 1 year
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bro ok i know no one watches bachelor in paradise but i just saw the part where salley showed up and left in under 20 min because it was so fucking hostile and all i can say is girl you dodged a bullet like you couldn’t pay me to hang out on the beach with those people for two months and i don’t think that of every bach in paradise season like this one is especially rank lmao
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proustianlesbian · 2 years
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aujourd'hui, j'ai appris qu'une personne que j'aime beaucoup est morte la semaine dernière. la personne qui me l'a dit n'étais pas sûre mais en même temps n'avait pas l'air de se tromper du coup je la crois. mais je me sens tellement mal que j'ai l'impression que je ne pourrais plus rien faire et je passe mon temps à pleurer depuis ce midi. le pire c'est que je n'ai jamais pu connaître le nom de la personne, je n'ai rien pour faire mon deuil, j'ai personne à qui parler.
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seokmattchuus · 2 years
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Can Lapillus just. Take Hit Ya back and release Queendome 🥲 I've been trying to stockholm syndrome myself into liking it all day and I can't do this anymore 😭
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shanastoryteller · 26 days
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happy valentine Shana!!! I can't believe i made it finally jgfcjjcgjgx i would love to see some fma (Sacrifice is free/ed&ling betrothed/What They Expect) or more of Lord Arthur De Bois, or time travel Jiang Cheng/drarry, or Avengers' Three Faced Goddess! (can anyone tell I Cannot choose favourites? They're all so gooood) and if none of those sound appealing, dealer's choice! thank you!!
continuation of 1 2 3 4 5
It's sort of awkward, because Eden insists on thick tights and long sleeves and keeps her gloves on, but Catherine takes it in stride and doesn't react with anything more than a single raised eyebrow. Maybe she thinks she has some sort of terrible skin condition on her limbs, or something, because she's perfectly fine with plunging necklines and the lacy bras Catherine shoves at her.
She hasn't worn anything besides a sports bra since she's had breasts. They're not exactly comfortable, but compared to the constant, background ache of the automail it doesn't even make a blip on her radar.
Besides. They make her look like a girl, shoving her breasts up front and center, and their size had been an annoyance when passing for a boy and a comfort when she looked at herself naked in the mirror, searching for the girl she was rather than the boy everyone saw, but this is different.
"Wow," Catherine blinks, tilting her head to the side.
Eden flushes and wishes that at any point she'd learned how to talk to pretty girls outside of life or death situations. "I hadn't realized they - I'm not used to wearing, um, girly stuff."
"You look good in it," she says, touching Ed's back and shifting her to face the mirror.
She's in black tights and boots with a chunky heel, taller than the ones she normally wears and sleeker, stopping just below her knees. She's wearing a dark green dress with a deep neckline. She's used to be hard lines and sharp edges, but she looks soft here, her hips and breasts curving out from her waist and the dress somehow minimizing the breadth of her shoulders, or maybe it's just that with all the skin on display in the center, her shoulders just don't get as much attention. She'd had to build them up, to make the automail balanced, to make sure her body could support it, and she'd always hated how masculine it made her look. But looking at herself now, she wonders if that just wasn't in her head.
Green's never been a color she gravitated towards, but the dark color makes the gold of her hair shine, brings out the warmth of her eyes and the pink of her lips.
"You're really good at this," she tells Catherine, throat tight.
Catherine grins. "You are a beautiful canvas, Eden. It was not difficult." Ed's face burns. "Do you have plans for dinner? We could have it at my home. I am, honestly, dying to curl your hair."
Ed hesitates, because her shade of blonde is rather distinctive, then takes a second look at herself in the mirror. No one is going to think she's the Fullmetal Alchemist looking like this. "Okay, yeah. Sure. That'd be great."
~
Catherine knows that Eden is military at first glance, seeing her elder sister in the way Eden stands and moves. She looks young, but she can't be that young, not when she has the stance of someone who's been enlisted for years.
She figures that Eden is looking for clothes to wear outside of her uniform for the first time and something in her softens at how insistent Eden is on keeping certain parts of her body covered. Her siblings have scars too.
When they get to their home, Eden seems slightly surprised at the grandness of her home, but gets over it quickly, which Catherine almost expected. She hadn't looked at a single price tag as they'd been shopping and had paid for her bags of purchases with a nonchalance that spoke of a familiarity with money, although that leaves Catherine to wonder how she ended up in the military in the first place. She hadn't gotten a last name out of her, but Catherine is familiar with most military families, and she would have heard if any of their daughters had enlisted.
"Your bedroom is so pretty," Eden says, looking around at her pink, frilly room filled with flowers and clothes and gilded in gold with a soft wistfulness.
Catherine loves her. "Thank you. Here, sit at my vanity, let's play."
Eden laughs and pulls her hair out of the hasty ponytail she'd pulled it into, letting Catherine run her hands through it and carefully brush out every knot. It's gorgeous, thick and silky and the most wonderful shade that Catherine's never seen on anyone else.
People always act so oddly with her because of her family, even those similarly situated looking down at her for her choices, to be neither an officer nor married to one, but that's just not what she wants right now. It's nice to hang out with another girl that just treats her like a friend.
"MY BELOVED SISTER HAS RETURNED!" booms from what sounds like the first floor.
She sighs.
Eden goes rigid in her chair, eyes wide. "What - why-"
"It's just my brother," she says soothingly, concerned with how pale Eden has gotten. "He's harmless, really."
"Brother," Eden repeats. "Fuck. Fuck! I'm so stupid-"
"It's okay," she says in alarm, "Eden, what-"
She gets to her feet, grabbing her hands and looking at her a desperation that Catherine doesn't understand. "He can't know I'm here. Who I am. Do you understand? It's important."
She doesn't understand. "Eden-"
There's the sound of heavy footsteps heading their way and Eden wrenches herself away, bolting for the other side of the room. She claps her hands together, then presses them against the wall, and in flash of light she's disappeared.
Catherine stares. mouth agape.
She's familiar with alchemy. The skill has been passed down her family for generations.
Eden didn't use a circle.
"I HEAR YOU HAVE MADE A FRIEND, DEAR SISTER!" Alex shouts, flinging open her door and flexing in the doorway. "I WISH TO MEET YOUR NEW COMPANION!"
She picks up a pillow from her bed and lobs it at him, hitting him right in his stupid curl. "We're having girl time, go away!"
"Ah, girl time!" he says. "A storied tradition that has been passed down the Armstrong family for many generations!" He looks around, seeing her empty room, and his eyebrows dip together.
She grabs a makeup brush, holding it up threateningly. "You know what else has been passed down our family for generations? The art of knocking! Go bother Momma!"
"Where's," he starts.
Catherine throws the brush, pointy end towards his eyes.
He ducks, retreating to the safety of the hallway and closing the door just in time for the brush to hit it.
She takes a deep breath, calming her racing heart and smoothing her hands down her skirt. She crosses the room, knocking against the wall and whispering, "Eden? He's gone."
There's nothing for a moment and then there's light and heat and she's looking at the the inside of her house, pipes and insulation, and Eden standing there in the center of it, eyes blown wide and lips trembling.
Eden, who won't let her look at her limbs and doesn't know how to wear girly things and uses alchemy without circles and recognizes her brother from his voice alone.
"I'm sorry," Eden whispers, arms wrapped around herself, trying to make herself small. "I just wanted-"
Catherine interrupts her, reaching out to place her hand over the arm Eden had been careful not to let her touch and is unsurprised to feel hard, unyielding metal. "The art of secret keeping had been passed down the Armstrong family for generations."
Eden's eyes snap to hers and Catherine smiles, squeezing her arm and hopes that she can feel it. Slowly, wondrously, Eden returns it.
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straywords · 1 year
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°•☆Pretending☆•°
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♡ Mob Boss! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader ♡
Your boss helps you navigate your kooky relatives on the holidays.
"Fake" relationship, fluff, pining, reader is innocent and oblivious, Bucky’s POV.
Words: 2k
Peachy Sweet verse || Bucky
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"Sir, I warn you…My family is a lot," you say, fiddling with your scarf.
Bucky peers down at you, warmth engulfing his chest as he does.
A cool breath unleashes from his mouth as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his coat. 
He casts a quick glance around him.
It’s instinct, always being alert, on the lookout for something to go down. Even here, in the quiet, mundane suburbs, near you, he can’t shake that old habit.
Hence the strategically positioned guards hiding near your parents’ house, ready to move at a moment’s notice if need be. One can never be too careful. 
He still can hardly believe it. 
Of all the places Bucky thought he’d be right now…the doorstep of your parents’ house is nowhere near the top. 
In a shootout with a competitor? Possibly.
Looking over a weapons deal to make sure it goes smoothly? In the realm of likely as well.
Torturing information out of some lowlife with meticulous slices of his knife? Just another Tuesday.
But your folks’ house?
Never in a million years Bucky ever expected to find himself here. It’s more surreal than any part of his unusual life. 
"Yes, you've said that a million times on the way here, doll," he replies, chuckling. 
A frown carves your brow as you lick your lips, the motion drawing the mob boss’ eye. 
"I know but I just want things to go well and for them to lov… appreciate you as much as I do, sir. "
Bucky’s heart leaps. 
He’s pretty sure the "L" word almost just escaped your lips. He can tell from how you anxiously glance down, an adorable look on your face as you twine your fingers. 
Of course, he’s getting carried away, letting himself hope. But it’s a step in the right direction. 
He has to turn this silly charade into reality. 
"I can handle your family, doll. What I can't handle is you still calling me 'sir’ as we're about to meet them."
Bucky smiles at your confounded expression.
"Right…Bucky," you mumble sweetly. He doesn't think he’ll ever get over you saying his name. The way your lips move as you pronounce it. How it rolls off your tongue... As the mobster’s thoughts begin to run wild, he catches himself. Restraint. He can’t scare you away. Not now.
You giggle. "Still gotta get used to it."
What a sweet thing you are. 
If Bucky were a better man, he’d probably stay away from you…but he’s not. In fact, he might be the worst kind of man, because as dangerous as his life is, he can’t picture it without you in it. 
He wrests your hand in his. Your eyes widen as his fingers wrap around yours. 
"Sir…I mean, Bucky what are you…?" you sputter. 
Bucky’s smile expands as he finds himself endeared by your reaction.
"They have to believe it, right?" he offers. 
Chewing on your lip, you nod. "You’re right."
You inhale deeply and ring the doorbell. Bucky watches you twitch before the door, drinking in each of your minute expressions. 
After a while, the door finally opens, a girl with a striking likeness to you filling it. 
"Hey, Shana," you greet, your tone lackluster. 
Bucky quirks his brow, puzzled by the exchange. From the information gathering he’s done beforehand, he knows this is your sister. 
He knows everything there is to know about her, including her uncanny ability to talk her way out of speeding tickets…a dash of street smarts he can’t help but appreciate. 
He’s done his homework on all your family members. Their jobs. Their routines. Their habits. Their criminal record.
Not that there’s anything of note on that front. Everything about you, and them by extension, is refreshingly normal. Well… except for your uncle, but he’s a strange, isolated case.
"Guys, he’s real! She didn’t make him up!" your sister yells behind her. 
Pouting, you step in, Bucky following closely behind. 
"Everyone, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is everyone," you drawl. 
Bucky waves at your gathered relatives as they peer at him with an unconcealed blend of curiosity and disbelief. 
He quickly scours the room, amazed by the decorations matching the bright lights outside. 
Your sister slaps your little brother’s shoulder, laughing. 
"Well, I’ll be damned. She actually may not die alone," she quips. "Guess I owe you twenty dollars, Max."
Your brother studies him for a long time, nodding before he shrugs and strolls to the sofa. From what Bucky knows, he hasn’t spoken a word his entire life, so the mob boss takes it as the young man’s quiet stamp of approval. 
"Maybe he’s a stripper and she hired him to pretend," one of your aunts pipes from her chair near the fireplace, shamelessly admiring Bucky from head to toe. 
"He’s not a stripper, auntie," you bemoan as you cross your arms in annoyance.
Bucky’s hand clenches as he finds himself missing the tentative brush of your fingers against his. 
"Oh well, that’s a shame," your aunt notes, her gaze roaming over Bucky once more.
Your uncle glowers up at him from his armchair, musing aloud, "Or maybe he works for the mob…if these tattoos are anything to go by." He glares at the hints of ink peeking from Bucky’s forearms. The latter tugs on his sleeve. Shit. He didn’t think of covering those. The older man squints. "I’ve seen some shit in my day and this fella over here…"
Your sister rolls her eyes. 
"Please…don’t listen to Uncle Darius," she scoffs, shaking her head. "He thinks the moon landing was faked, that 9/11 was an inside job and that Elvis is still alive."
A weary sigh is released by your mother as she mirrors your sister’s contrite expression. "He’ll make up any story to make himself interesting."
"There’s a man outside lurking around the house!" your uncle screeches, gaze narrowed as he taps his cane against the window. 
Bucky swallows thickly, his smile intact despite his nervousness growing. He’ll have to give a call to the sentinels around your parents’ house. The last thing he needs is for one of them to be spotted by your weirdly observant relative. 
Your sister snorts at your uncle’s "antics".
"See? Ridiculous."
With a hand on her chest, your mother beams at both you and him, on the brink of tears as she shares, "I’ve been waiting for my daughter to bring home a nice, normal man." She wipes her eyes and sniffles. "Finally."
Bucky helps you out of your coat and removes his. A soft smile unfurls on his lips as you shiver at the mere, fleeting contact . You mumble a quiet 'thanks' as he steps away to hang it on the rack near the door. 
Your sister approaches one of the windows, stealing a glimpse of the outside. "What about that car with the tinted windows…" she inquires, puzzlement dancing in her orbs.
"It’s just for discretion," Bucky explains.
More like protection, though he doesn’t reveal it. Tinted, bulletproof windows. Aluminum and steel encased in the doors and roof. As well as tear-gas grenades and pump-action shotguns beneath the trunk…just in case. 
"Oh fancy," your sister whistles. 
Bucky chuckles. "Well, since I work for the mob and all…can never be too safe, right?"
There is a pause and weighted silence that lasts long enough for Bucky to wonder if he went too far as everyone’s eyes round and their mouths part in shock. 
But then, they all cackle together at his "joke", their hearty laughs bouncing against the living room’s walls…bare your uncle who’s still sending him dirty looks. 
Your sister punches him in the shoulder lightly, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
"Bucky…that’s your name, right? God, you’re so crazy," she exclaims.
Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief. 
Your sister then preens and bats her eyelashes. "So Bucky, are you seeing anyone?"
You sigh in exasperation. "I am literally standing right here, guys."
"I mean, there is someone I quite like, yes," he replies, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards as you bashfully look down. 
Your sister hums in acknowledgement then announces, "We should exchange numbers in case it doesn’t work out. Lord knows she always screws things up with guys."
"Shana!" you chide. 
A much older woman with silver hair inches up to him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 
"I don’t have a cellphone but I’ve been known to drop an email or two," she trills.
Bucky bites on his lip to keep from laughing as you shake your head.
"Grandma, please," you lament. 
Raising your hands in frustration, you groan and head to the kitchen. 
Bucky delivers a quick apology to your family and follows you. 
You seem to calm down as you lean against the kitchen island, your hands spreading over the countertop.
Tilting his head, Bucky basks in the sight of you. 
It seems kitchens are the places you can relax most easily. He files that particular piece of information for later.
Maybe for a more tranquil, intimate time when your family’s not around.
You gasp as your head lifts, an apology creeping on your pretty face. "I’m sorry about them," you say, sighing deeply. "Like I said, they’re a lot."
Bucky slithers closer to you. 
He collects your hands, keeping them in his like before. You’re more relaxed this time but you’re still avoiding his eyes. An unfortunate habit he truly needs to coax out of you. Your wonderful, expressive eyes should always be on him. 
"It’s fine, doll," he whispers softly. 
Your lips pinch as your forehead creases. "I’m just so embarrassed."
This draws a laugh from Bucky. His fingers lurk beneath your chin, angling it so his eyes dive into yours. "Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about." He observes you for a while, drinking in your trembling gaze and your slightly parted lips. 
Bucky’s lips are on yours, gently pressing, before a thought has fully formed in his head. 
He feels rewarded as you melt against him, kissing him back and even letting your hand travel to the back of his neck as your soft moans die where your mouths connect.
The moment appears to last forever. Perfect. Warm. Electric. 
It’s only when you push on his chest that he stops. Panting breaths mingle as his forehead rests against yours. You’re wobbly on your feet so he firmly holds you, his hand gripping your waist.
His thumb skims over your bottom lip, puffy from how hard he kissed you, something stirring inside him at that.
Bucky’s voice drops. "It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere…" His eyes crinkle in mirth. "No matter how many tempting offers I get from the women in your family."
He’s satisfied at the light giggle his comment pulls from you. 
"Thanks, Bucky," you mutter afterwards. You send him a sunny smile. "You’re like the nicest man I’ve ever met."
Bucky’s heart squeezes with your words.
If only you knew…
Would you still think he’s such a nice man then?
As he reclines into silence, you part from him to pluck an apron from the wall and tie it around your frame. 
"I have to feed them," you explain, checking the fridge and several of the cabinets with a concentrated look on your face. "They get ten times worse when they’re hungry."
"Can I help?"
Astonishment sparks on your face as your jaw goes slack. 
"You want to be my sous-chef, s…Bucky?"
He smirks at your stumble.
One day he’ll get you to say his name…possibly even scream it.
"As long as you tell me what to do…I’m all yours, doll."
"All mine…" you mumble, seeming to choke on your words as you fidget, your eyes darting about, landing everywhere but on him. 
Bucky used to think it was because you were scared of him, that maybe, somehow, you could sense the monster prowling inside him. But now that he soaks in your anxious fumbling and rambling, he’s beginning to entertain there may be other reasons you’re this way around him. 
And it makes his smile grow. 
"Well, let’s get to work then," you stammer, focused on your task. 
It’s not often he uses his hands like this - hands made for killing - for something as trivial as cooking.
But as you animatedly begin grabbing various appliances and chatting about family recipes, Bucky’s heart swells with warmth and joy. 
He could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored.
It’s not how his holidays usually go. They’re usually lonelier, colder.
All business... the nasty, bloody kind. 
This is different. Very different. But also good. 
The kind of good he doesn’t see himself abandoning anytime soon…especially when flutters bloom in his stomach every time you smile at him. 
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I don’t do taglists but you can follow my sideblog @straytales and turn on notifications if you wish to keep up with my updates.
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rob1nseggblue · 2 years
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just said “ill kick you in the matzoh balls” and i think im really funny
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bettyfrommars · 10 months
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I'm on Fire//older!biker!Eddie Munson x artist!fem!Reader//90's au//Part 8
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🚨18+Only, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, angst, biker!Eddie, biker!Steve, sexual innuendos, alcohol consumption, mention of financial troubles, falling in love, heartache, talk of commitment, talk of monogamy, casual sex, implied cheating, sex with someone other than reader, betrayal, having a stalker, biker gang, swearing, exotic dancers, reader wears dress and heels, reader wears red lipstick. Word count: 9.5k
Summary: In part 8, you start your new job as a cocktail server at the Velvet Hammer, and a few new characters are introduced. You and Eddie are officially falling for each other, while Eddie recalls a relationship from his past that left him shattered. A jealous ex-lover continues to try and rip the two of you apart, and this time, she might have succeeded. 90's playlist here
Series Masterlist
A/N: I'm not sure if it's that time of the month or what, but I cried twice while writing this🙃and not during the parts you might think. Rest assured that biker!Eddie and Reader are endgame. I love being in this world with y'all, and I always look forward to hearing from you! xoxox
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I'm on Fire//Part 8: From Here to Eternity
Day 3 of not hearing from Eddie, and you found yourself staring off into space, trying to calculate what could have possibly gone wrong. The idea that this was the kind of man that he was, that he would just ghost you without a word made your stomach sick. You thought you had developed better radar than that. You’d been listening to way too much Fiona Apple over the past 12 hours, but nevertheless---it was Thursday and you had to get ready for your first shift at your new job.
Shana, the hiring manager at the Velvet Hammer, let you know the dress code and a few ideas for what you should wear. It had to be skimpy and sexy and classy all at once, and at first you worried you might need to go shopping, but then Katie pulled this black latex halter top dress with a zipper down the front out of nowhere, and it didn’t fit her, so she assumed it belonged to her ex. Sure, it was not your signature style, but it gave you a certain Femme Fatale air of confidence that you hadn’t possessed before you put it on. Some of the servers got all decked out in creative makeup and wigs, but you decided to tackle your first day with caution.
You went over and checked the message machine in the living room again on your way out, just in case a call came through in the past 20 minutes that you miraculously did not hear, but the digital red number blinked a big, fat “0”.
Training at the Velvet Hammer was only about an hour long, and you met Jackie, the cocktail server you would be shadowing that night. She raised her eyebrow and gave you a bored look as she chewed her gum, hooking one of her long fingernails into the zipper of your latex dress to pull it down, exposing more of your skin. “That’s better,” she gave an extended wink. “We need those good tips tonight.”
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Meanwhile, Eddie spent the morning introducing the new office assistant around that he hired from a temp service, but then he had to leave to run a tow while Wayne showed her the ropes. The old man hated the suggestion that he needed help, but Eddie basically told him he had no choice. From Here to Eternity by Iron Maiden came on while he was en route back to the garage and his chest clenched, because for some reason, it made him think about you.
He never stopped thinking about you, really. But, if he kept busy with work, and drowned out the voices in his head with loud music and distractions, he could push aside the knowledge that he was already falling for you, and simultaneously come to terms with the fact that he was no good for you, and that you would be better off without him. The nights were the worst. He was back to getting only 3 or 4 hours of sleep, feeling like he had been spoiled on those occasions over the phone when he was lulled to dreamland by the sound of your sweet voice.
He knew in his gut that he was doing the wrong thing by not saying anything to you, but his denial was overshadowing his logic.
The suspension on the tow truck, or lack thereof, made him bounce as he came up onto the sidewalk lip to the driveway of the garage, and it somehow jarred his memory to the fact that your first day at the Velvet Hammer was tonight. He almost barreled right into the back of a car pulling out from one of the parking spots and had to slam on his breaks; he was becoming a hazard to everyone’s health, especially his own.
He needed to get his head on straight.
Fuck it, he needed to see you again.
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You were bummed to find out that Steve was tattooing at the shop, and not working the door that night, but the bouncer replacing him was also a biker who went by the nickname Thumper. He was stocky with big arms, a bald head, and a beard down to his chest. He called you darlin’ when he introduced himself to you.
“I’ll keep my eye on you girls,” Thumper reminded you and Jackie. “But be sure to come and get me if anyone give you any trouble.”
Tall, curvaceous Jackie rested her elbow on Thumper’s shoulder and leaned against him. “Thumper here tossed a guy out in the street for staring at me for too long once. He doesn’t play.”
“Ogling,” Thumper corrected. “The dude was ogling you, and if they’re gonna sit and get a free show to jerk off to later, they better be leaving decent tips for you ladies.”
Outside, there came the unmistakable growl of a gang of choppers coming up the street, and you excused yourself from the conversation to peek around the doorway. A group of Coffin Kings slowed down in front of the Velvet Hammer to acknowledge Thumper with a lift of their chins before speeding along to their destination, but none of them were Eddie.
The DJ played Thunder Kiss ‘65 by White Zombie an hour or so later as a purple and orange sunset blossomed over the mountains and the place started to fill up. A beautiful girl with a baby pink bob of hair got up on one of the stages with a pole and stated to work her magic while you carried a tray of drinks over to a table of four. The Velvet Hammer dancers never went completely topless, but they did strip down to tiny bikini sets that were plenty revealing, and their dance moves were seductively choreographed. The one with the pink bob had on finger-less, fishnet gloves, and a big tattoo on her thigh that you couldn’t quite make out.
You walked away as soon as you set the drinks down for the table, and Jackie snatched your arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked with a forced smile, talking without moving her lips.
You were genuinely confused, wondering if you somehow messed up on the drink order. “Um, nowhere, just--” you figured you’d get busy filling napkins and straws or something while you waited for more customers to come in.
Jackie pulled you to the side, bending close to your ear so that she wouldn’t have to shout over the music. “Part of the job is to socialize with the customers, honey, make them feel relaxed. Flirt with them, laugh at their jokes even when they are lame as hell,” she checked over her shoulder and smiled at the men at the table in question. “The more they think you’re actually interested, the bigger the tip, usually.”
You were nodding, taking the information in, wanting to do your job correctly. You’d been working in customer service in one way or another since you were a teenager, but, damn, you were horrible at faking interested or forcing conversation with guys you didn’t want to talk to. You hoped it was a skill that you could pick up from Jackie, because she was a magician at it.
You followed her back to the table so that she could introduce you to the group. It was four men, all in business suits, loosening their ties as they greeted you. They were a little older, ages ranging from 35 to 50, and the one who looked like he might be the oldest with a thick head of salt n’ pepper hair made eye contact with you and said he recognized you from somewhere.
God, the last thing you wanted was for a patron to recognize you from the gallery, that would be the worst.
“Probably from here?” You said with a lilt in your voice, trying to mask your bluff, hoping Jackie wouldn’t blurt out that it was your first day.
“No, I don’t think so,” he squinted, sitting back in his chair as he palmed his drink. “I’ve never been here before, so it couldn’t be that. But, I’m really good with faces, especially when one is as beautiful as yours.”
The forward compliment made you uncomfortable and you tucked your chin. He was a handsome older man, you couldn’t deny that. His eyes were such an intense blue, they were almost white, and you could tell from the way his shoulders fit in this suit jacket that he was in good shape and took care of himself. His friends were looking you up and down, and you could almost hear their internal lewd thoughts, but the older man—his name was John—kept polite eye contact with you as you talked. The watch he had on alone was worth at least a couple grand, and they all smelled like they were made of money.
But, none of them were Eddie, and so your banter felt particularly forced.
Thankfully, another group of customers came in and you excused yourself to follow Jackie over to the next table, wobbling for a moment in your heels before recovering quickly by bracing your hand on the back of a chair.
Later, just as John was leaving, a guy celebrating his 21st birthday had one too many tequila shots and tried to climb onto the stage, but his migration was interrupted by Thumper, who charged over to clam a big, meaty hand on his shoulder and remind him of the rules in a way that made the guys face go pale as he plopped back down into his seat.
You were standing at the bar with your back to John, but he came up behind you and touched your elbow. When you turned around to meet his gaze, he pressed some cash into your palm and said, “this is for you,” with a dimple and a wink, before heading out.
The rest of the group collectively left just as much of a tip on the table for Jackie. “A c-note tip on your first day?” She said with a shake of her head and a snort. “Sorry, but I kinda hate you right now.”
“Who was that John guy?” You whispered across the table to her as the two of you bussed the empty glasses.
“I have no idea,” Jackie shrugged. “His friends come in once in a while, but I’ve never seen that sexy DILF before. He had on a wedding ring, but most of the dudes who come in here do. It never keeps them from making a play.”
As the night progressed, there were eventually two girls dancing, one on each stage at opposite ends of the room. Jackie took her 15 minute break to go out into the alley for a smoke while you kept an eye on your tables. The dancers started a routine to Symphony of Destruction by Megadeth, and just when you had managed to get in a decent five minutes without Eddie on the brain, that song brought it all crashing back. You were at the far end of the bar, and when you glanced up to see who was coming in the front door---there he stood in the flesh, as if on cue: Edward Munson.
You blinked a few times, certain that your eyes were playing tricks on you and it was just someone who merely resembled Eddie, like a mirage appearing in the desert after you hadn’t had a sip of water in days. His muscular frame took up space in the doorway, wearing his black leather jacket, and his hair tied back to expose the two small silver hoops in his ear. He finished shaking Thumper’s hand, and then his eyes found yours, and the hint of a smile quivered on his lips. His gaze shifted around the room, taking in everyone in your vicinity, before they returned to you and hovered there.
A giddy breath hitched in your chest as you mirrored his reflexive grin, wholly unable to mask how happy you were to see him. But then, you remembered that this gorgeous dickhead is the one who selfishly left you in the wind for the past 3 days, and with a dramatic flourish of the tray in your hand, you spun on your heel to head in the other direction to check on some patrons near the stage.
---------
Eddie sat on his chopper with his boots planted wide on the pavement while he smoked a cigarette and stared at the red neon above the door to the Velvet Hammer. The decision to stay away had been to keep you out of Charlene’s cross hairs; to keep you from taking the brunt of this dark, underbelly of a life he had established for himself. As it turns out, staying away from you was too much torture for his raggedy old heart to bear, and that was saying a lot, considering the amount of shit he’d gone through in his life.
He indulged in long drags, sucking in his cheeks, watching people come and go out of the bar, wondering how you would react to him just popping in after days of silence. You knew he didn’t like talking on the phone, and besides---he needed to see your face. There was so much emotion a blind phone conversation could never capture; a lowering of the eyes or a worried brow. He needed to smell you, touch you, and taste your lips; he craved it in the deep corners of his cobwebbed soul.
If there was one thing about Eddie, he was patient when it came to matters of the heart. Matters of his dick were a different story, clearly, but when it came to those rare times in his life when he saw someone as a potential partner, he couldn't just dive in with reckless abandon; he wasn’t Steve. When Eddie loved someone, he handed over his entire heart: all of his loyalty, all of his trust, everything he owned---and that kind of vulnerability was not something he’d been open to feeling for what felt like an eternity.
There had been a woman who was very special to him once, years before you, and it ended with Eddie being hauled off to jail for beating the guy she was cheating on him with to a pulp. He bought a house and moved her in with him; he had a whole lifetime together with her planned in his head. But, there had been clear signs that it was never going to work, including the tiny detail that she never really loved him. Sure, she loved his image, the fact that he was in a band, the way he protected her, but he never felt like he could really be himself around her. He always felt tense and worried, like everything he did would never be enough.
He’d asked himself a million times since then what made him fall in love with her, and the most obvious answer what that he didn’t really know how love was supposed to feel at the time. His whole life, it felt like people were always leaving him, like he was always begging to be noticed and loved, and so her often cold disregard of him felt like familiar territory. Then, one day he comes home early from an overnight run with the Kings to find her taking it doggy style in their bed from this guitarist that Eddie had always considered a friend.
For months, she begged to come back, for him to forgive her, but once Eddie shuts a door, it locks forever. He knew he could never trust her again, which was the most important thing to him, and the pain of that betrayal still lingered like a permanent scar on his heart. In an effort to distract himself, he joined the Coffin Kings charter in Chicago and moved there for a year, fought in an underground bare knuckle ring, and did everything he could to numb himself. That was around the time Steve found out he was a father by way of Oliver basically being dumped at his doorstep, and Eddie realized he didn’t want to miss any more of his honorary nephew’s life.
All of the women he’d been with since then were just futile efforts to fill the void, until you.
So, what are you going to do about it, then, Munson? Just lurk out here on the street all night like a little kid at the fair who’s afraid of the big rides?
He dismounted the bike and stomped out his cigarette nub with the toe of his boot, adjusting the sleeves of his leather. Something made his defenses spike and he looked around the street to see if someone might be sitting in their car, watching him. At this point, he was almost certain that Charlene had paid someone to watch him, because for two days in a row, he’d noticed the same dark red Chevy Cavalier tailing him, staying at least one or two cars back. He didn’t see a car that fit the description parked anywhere near, but whoever it was could be anywhere, maybe even in the building across the street.
Charlene’s unhealthy obsession with him had to run it’s course eventually, she had to get bored and give up at one point. He hoped so, anyway. He couldn’t imagine her dragging this out for much longer, but he also never expected these threats from her in the first place, so he rightfully had his concerns. He thought maybe if he held out a few more weeks, she’d be off on one of her exotic vacations, and she could move on to ruining someone else’s life. But, he couldn’t wait that long to see you, to touch you. Hell, in a couple weeks you might not even want him anymore, and it was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
There was a chance you might not want him now. There was a chance he’d already fucked everything up.
Thumper was a longtime friend, and he’d been with the Coffin Kings ever since back in the day when Wayne was a patched member. The two smacked their hands together in a signature grip as Eddie crossed the threshold onto the burgundy carpet. Inside the Velvet Hammer was buzzing with music and people and dancers wearing next to nothing on the back stages, people sitting shoulder to shoulder at the bar.
You might as well have been the only one there, though, because you were all he could see: simultaneously loving and hating the fact that you were dressed to kill. He’d never seen you in that color of lipstick before; it was a deep red and he ached to part them with his tongue.
He swore you were about to smile when your eyes met, he caught that adorable glimmer pass over your face and it made his heart still for a beat. But, then it faded just as quickly and you turned away to continue on with what you were doing, giving him the cold shoulder.
This was the first time you hadn’t rushed into his arms since this whole thing started, and it wrecked him. But, he also knew he kind of deserved it.
-----------
Your mouth was moving and sounds were coming out, but you couldn’t remember a word you’d said to the guys at the table in the corner who were still nursing their beers. Your ears were ringing and your adrenaline was surging, flushing a hot wave over your chest. Had Eddie come there to see you? Or was he just there to casually have a drink and get turned on like everyone else?
If he wasn’t there to see you, and he planned on just coming by to hang out once in a while, you’d have to quit. There’s no way you could keep seeing him on a regular basis if this was how he chose to treat you, it would hurt too damn much, and no job was worth that. You had this overwhelming urge to run and hide somewhere, but you couldn’t duck out until Jackie came back, and so you straightened your shoulders and turned to face the music like a big girl.
And there he was: standing at the bar with both elbows hooked on the ledge behind him, boots crossed at the ankles, waiting for you. You could tell that he had just been checking out your ass because of the way his gaze flicked up to your eyes with incriminating speed. His expression was unreadable, but that was nothing new.
Reluctantly, but also, with excitement bubbling in your veins, you made your way over to him, pausing briefly as one of the other servers walked out of the hallway where the bathrooms were. Another song started up, this time it was #1 Crush by Garbage.
“Do you have a break soon?” Eddie swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry at how hot you looked in that strange zipper dress. “Or, I can come back?” His mind couldn’t help but jump straight to the fact that every single dude in the place was thinking dirty thoughts about you, and it made his back teeth clench.
He was there to see you, you thought, your heart soaring. But in almost the same second you realized that he could be there to tell you that this wasn’t working out, that he didn’t want to see you anymore, that he met someone else, that he was moving to Brazil: all of which would be awful, but then at least you could start the process of moving on instead of hanging in limbo. Moving on from Eddie…that sounded like it was easier said than done.
Just then, as your mouth was open about so answer him, Jackie came out adjusting her belt, chewing gum. “Your turn,” she said as she walked between the two of you. “Take a fifteen. Oh, hey Munson,” she added passively at the end, patting him on the arm as she continued around the bar.
-------------
At the far end of the hallway there was a heavy metal door that locked from the outside automatically when it shut, and there was a little wood wedge out in the alley to keep it open a crack. You bent down to push the wedge into place while Eddie put his hands on his hips and stared at the brick of the building across the way so that he wouldn’t get an erection at the sight of your perfect ass up in the air.
On one side of you squatted a big, metal dumpster, and on the other side were a few square crates where employees sat during their breaks, the pavement between them littered with cigarette butts. It was dark, and the only illumination came from a bulb over the door across the way and a streetlamp further down where the alley met with the sidewalk.
Eddie could tell things were different, he could tell you were upset, probably even hurt and disappointed, and he hated that he had something to do with that. All he wanted to do was put his arms around you, but your energy was telling him that you weren’t ready for that.
“I’m sorry…” He hesitated. What was he sorry for? Lots of things. “...for breaking our date and not calling.”
Your tight stomach softened, and your gaze flicked to his after not being able to make eye contact since stepping out of the building.
Eddie hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and looked down at the ground, shuffling his foot. “I had some shit to take care of and I got overwhelmed. But I should’ve said something to you.”
This was starting to be a pattern with him, but you believed that he was telling the truth. It sounded like there was a lot more to the story, but a sincere apology was worth it’s weight in gold to you. You could also tell that he was nervous to be in front of you right then, like maybe you wouldn’t forgive him.
He opened his mouth to say something else and you reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it, making his gaze jump to yours. “Hey, it’s okay,” you told him as he unhooked his thumb from his belt loop and took your hand. “I missed your stupid face, that’s all.”
He gave a soft snort, a sparkle returning to his eyes.
You leaned in, resting your other hand on his chest, relishing the direction this conversation had gone and how safe and whole you felt in his presence. You searched his eyes. “You need to communicate with me if this is ever going to work, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me things. Really, there’s nothing you could ever share with me about your life that I wouldn’t be able to handle.”
He really, really wanted to believe that was true, but the cynical part of him, the part that had learned to keep secrets as a way of life, doubted that anyone was that understanding.
“Come here,” he breathed on the curve of a smile, cupping your neck, and pulling your mouth to his. There were a few tender, sweet kisses, no tongue, and then he brushed his nose across yours a few times, lips brushing yours as he spoke. “I missed this.”
You kissed his bottom lip, and then his top lip, savoring their plump, perfect shape, before resting your head below his shoulder and wrapping your arms around him in a hug, his leather squeaking at your embrace.
You released a long, heavy breath. “I thought you came here to tell me you didn’t like me anymore.”
He kissed your temple. “I never said I liked you,” he mumbled, to which you dug your fingers into his ribs in an effort to tickle him, simultaneously trying to pull away. But, he held you tightly in place, deep chuckles rumbling in his chest. “It’s much more than that.”
At those words, you settled, smile pressed up against him, swooning so hard you felt like you were drunk.
What he had with you was special, and now, in his thirties, Eddie knew how rare this kind of chemistry was. You were the drug he wanted to be strung out on.
This...this was his, and he wouldn’t let anyone, especially Charlene, take it away from him.
--------------
There was a pep in your step when you returned to work, enough so that Jackie commented on it, giving you a side eye. “Who the hell got you off on your break?” she asked rhetorically.
Truly, your break had felt like it was over in a blink, like you and Eddie had only been standing out in the alleyway for a second before you checked your Swatch and had to scramble back inside. He asked if he could wait for you and walk you back to your car when your shift was over, and you were fine with that, but you let him know it would be another hour or so, and he didn’t seem to mind.
Eddie knew a lot of the people who worked at the Velvet Hammer. Or, more precisely, the people who worked there knew Eddie. The bartender that night was a guy who looked like Kurt Cobain and he ignored everyone else to make sure Eddie got what he wanted the second he sat down at the bar. The place was packed by then, but every chance you got, you would walk by and run your hand across Eddie’s back and give him a flirty glance over your shoulder as you schlepped drinks around.
Thumper came over and sat next to Eddie when the night got slow and had a beer with him, and the two went out front to have a smoke and chat about the good ‘ol days.
“Is that new server your old lady?” Thumper asked after a drag on his cigarette. He flicked the ashes to the sidewalk and cocked his head.
Eddie propped his foot up behind him, against the building, wallet chain hanging down his thigh, thoughtfully exhaling gray smoke into the night. “Maybe, if I don’t fuck everything up,” he coughed.
Thumper wheezed in a laughing spasm. “You still sticking it to that rich bitch, what’s her name?”
Eddie stiffened. “That’s been over for a while. Bitch got all Fatal Attraction on me,” Eddie’s vernacular took a turn when he was around the older charter members, it was second nature.
“Man, I wish I was 20 years younger,” Thumper sucked in the tuft of graying hair that was under his lip. “Those were the days.”
Eddie was eager to change the subject. “How is the fourth marriage working out for you?”
“Fifth,” Thumper corrected with a nod. “Divorced Jeanie last spring, married Lorraine a few months ago. No kids this time, I got the snip. One more baby momma would break me.”
As bleak as the conversation topic was, Eddie had an inner warmth radiating through his body, healing him, now that he knew the two of you were back in a good place. He didn’t know if a traditional wedding or kids were things that you wanted, but he saw himself making coffee for you in the morning and bringing it to you in your studio while you worked on a painting. He could see you running out the door to hug him as he dragged himself home after a long day at work. A life together with a porch swing and a view of the sunset, maybe a cat and a dog and some chickens. A big garage for his bike and whatever classic car he was working on at the time.
God, he was getting a head of himself. Did you even like dogs?
-----------
Back in the dressing room at the end of your shift, you and Jackie were both changing out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable when Jackie whipped around in only her bra and panties, startling you as you pulled your shirt on over your head.
“Hold up, you never told me you were Eddie Munson’s girl,” she hushed, giving you a sustained look of awe. “The stories I’ve heard about that cock are legendary.”
The way she sounded when she said it suggested that you should’ve been proud, but the declaration only succeeded in activating your anxiety. You tried not to think of all of the women in town he’d given orgasms to as you tied the laces on your shoes. As long as he was faithful to you, none of that other business should matter. But still, somehow it did. That reminded you, maybe it was time to lay the cards out on the table and have that monogamy talk before you got more invested than you already were.
There were still a few customers hunched over their drinks as you walked out, but the dancers were done, and you said goodbye to Jesse, the bartender, thanking him for all of his help. Jackie gave you a high five, and hugged Thumper before she headed off down the opposite side of the street, high ponytail bobbing.
You smiled up at Eddie who was standing there with his arm out, waiting for you to curl against him so he could wrap it around your shoulders.
“I thought for sure you would’ve ditched me by now,” you told him, slipping one of your hands into his back pocket.
“Nah, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Eddie joked, lifting his hand in a wave to Thumper as the two of you headed off down the street.
“Take care of that one,” Thumper shouted. “She’s a good girl.”
------------
“Are you?” Eddie asked as the two of you approached your car that was parked a block away.
“Am I what?” You asked, stopping to turn and gaze up into his face.
Eddie lifted his chin with a smirk, exposing the tattoo lines that peeked out of the collar of his shirt across his throat. “A good girl?”
You wet your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue and tilted your head. “Depends on who wants to know.”
He pulled took you into his arms for another kiss, eager tongues this time, moans in the back of throats, cock jumping in his jeans.
Your lips came away just enough to speak, your hand cupping his face, the stubble around his jaw prickling your palm. “What about you? Are you a good boy?”
There was a shiver of hesitation on his breath before he answered. “Only for you.”
The two of you were locked in a moment, you could’ve been on the sidewalk, you could’ve been standing on the moon---nothing mattered and you had no concept of time.
But then Eddie spoke up again. “Do you wanna get out of here? Go for a ride? I want to show you something.”
You didn’t have to be back at the Velvet Hammer until Saturday, and the thought of getting on Eddie’s bike again gave you excited goosebumps.
Eddie started opening the strap on one of the black leather saddlebags on the back of his chopper once the two of you arrived, and you stood back and watched as he pulled out a second bare bones helmet, the top shiny like the round edge of a bowling ball.
“I got this for you,” Eddie said, passing it over. “It should fit better than mine.”
You were speechless for a moment, looking down at it, touched by the thoughtful gift. “Thank you, I love it,” you whispered. He placed it on your head and adjusted the strap under your chin, diligently making sure it fit correctly.
“Is it too tight?” He asked, making sure the sides weren’t pinning your ears.
“It’s perfect,” you nodded.
He straddled the bike. “Do you remember how to get on?”
But you were already grabbing onto the back of his jacket and swinging your leg over. You’d been practicing getting on the back of Eddie’s bike in your dreams.
-------------
You clung to him as the two of you sped along in the dark, your fingertips meeting at his stomach, chest glued to his back, core locked to his tailbone. He had on a pair of clear, protective glasses to keep the bugs from blinding him, and every so often, he would reach one hand down and put it over yours as the bike wound up the hill. You’d kiss the exposed skin on the back of his neck between his hairline and the collar of his leather, and he’d squeeze your thigh.
The spot he wanted to you to was a grass ledge near a line of cherry blossom trees that overlooked the city. He pulled out a thin blanket from one of his saddlebags and stretched it out over the grass. Lights down below twinkled like stars and you took your new helmet off to get comfortable next to him.
“Yep, it’s ugly,” you joked, referring to the spectacular view.
Eddie stretched his legs out in front of him and braced himself on his hands. “I knew you’d hate it just as much as I do,” but then there was a sliver of hesitation, his foot moving back and forth as he considered if he should say it or not. “I’ve never taken anyone up here before.”
Summer was fast approaching as far as the temperature went, but the nights were still chilly, and you had a sweatshirt on, but his proximity and the tone of his voice was rapidly throwing coals on the fire in your circulatory system.
Things progressed quickly. One second, you were laughing at a joke he made, and the next---your lips were on each other, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, heat throbbing between your legs. You were trying to push his jacket off, but Eddie sat up and removed it in a flash, tossing it on the bike with a twist of his wrist.
You rutted your hips against him a few times, but you could sense the hesitancy he had for whatever reason, and you took hold of his hand to move it down to your core, enjoying the growl he let out when he latched on to the wet heat already permeating through your jeans. You clung to his neck as he unzipped them, and you wiggled your hips out so he could slide his hand in. He paused only to take his rings off of his H-E-L-L-F-I-R-E knuckles, and then his fingers dipped back down to curl inside your underwear, slipping into the gushing arousal he found there, groaning against your mouth.
His thick fingers rolled in circles over your anxious nub. “Is this mine?” He asked in a throaty whisper, pressing his forehead to yours, waiting for you to answer.
Saliva got stuck in your throat but you whimpered a yes. He starts to slip his fingers down through your folds and you quiver as he travels deeper, aching to penetrate you, but you catch his wrist, stopping him from going any further.
“I have to...to say something,” you breathed.
Eddie pulled his hand out and rested it on your thigh, and brought his face back so he could see your eyes as you blinked at him under the moonlight. “You can tell me anything, baby.”
You planted a kiss on his chin, feeling nervous for some reason when it came to setting your boundaries. “I can’t be intimate with you if you’re also doing this with other women. I need to know that we’re…” you struggled with how to word that. Demanding some large scale commitment from him might come off as getting ahead of yourself. “I need to know that you and I are something special and there’s no one else,” you paused to lick your lips, eyes lowered to the neckline of his shirt.
Nothing you said could’ve pleased Eddie more, and his attraction to you intensified ten fold in that moment. He used the crook of his finger to tilt your chin up, encouraging you to meet his eyes. “There’s no one else. There hasn’t been anyone else since the barbecue at Robin’s house.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to add, “if you’re my girl, there will never be anyone else,” but he didn’t want to come off as smothering, or make you feel uncomfortable with the intensity in which he was capable of devoting to you.
Relieved, you brushed his cheek with your thumb. “Trust and monogamy are really important to me, I need to know I can trust you,” your eyes met, searching deep, and he pulled your hand to his chest. “You’re the only one I want to be with, and I think we could---”
But Eddie’s lips found yours with a new level of need as he wholeheartedly agreed, so caught up in his growing feelings for you that he didn’t have the words to express them. He could ramble on about cars and music and bikes all day long, but when it came to feelings like this? He was struck dumb.
“I want to taste my girl,” he choked out, helping to work your jeans down with his hand as you kicked them down and off, keeping your mouth on his while your hand clutched his hair that had fallen from the tie and was loose around his shoulders.
“I want to be in your mouth, baby,” you gasped as he met your eyes and then made his way down, lifting your shirt to kiss your stomach, tongue darting out to tease your flesh, face stubble tickling.
A purr escaped his throat as his mouth found its destination and he planted kisses on the outside of your soaked underwear, down your slit, and then he peeled them to the side with his finger, darting his tongue in just enough to make you writhe.
“You can...take those off…” you breathed.
He kissed your inner thigh. “You let me take care of it,” he told you in a deep voice, as he continued on with his business.
His tongue dove in to penetrate you a few times, swallowing, groaning, “fuck, you taste so good,” his hot breath fanned against you as his cock begged for release, his hips rocking against the ground.
The need to be inside of you was overwhelming; painful, even, but he hadn’t brought any condoms with him, and he didn’t know how you would feel about being that close to him this soon in the game. The thought of getting you to cum in his mouth already had his cock leaking.
For some reason, the way he pulled your underwear to the side was turning you on even more? He sucked your clit in and flicked it with his tongue, moaning against you, and it made you arch your chest, exposing your throat to the cherry blossoms above as you cursed. He drew a few long licks along your slit, and then you felt a finger go in just as your fingers dug into the grass on either side of the blanket.
“Are you mine?” Eddie asked between sucks, sinking another finger in.
Crickets made their music all around as the soft hush of the town life below drifted up in the darkness.
“I’m-I’m all yours, baby,” you stammered, forehead clenched.
Eddie’s fingers found a rhythm, moving long and deep in fast strokes as his mouth found the perfect spot that made you hiss, “right there right there,” and he kept working until he could feel your tight walls start to clench around his fingers.
“You’re so good, baby,” you were mumbling, barely coherent now as a strangled cry escaped your lips and your hips fucked into his hand and Eddie’s pelvis fucked the ground, and your eyes started to roll back in your head.
“Eddie, Eddie, cum-cum-cumming,” you jerked as the velvet walls crashed around you, limbs popping spasmodically, whimpering his name.
Eddie pressed his mouth against your core, one hand around your thigh to pin you against his tongue so that he could drink every last drop, riding the high with you until he knew your nub would be too sensitive, and then his tongue returned to your hole a few times, moaning with pleasure at the sweet nectar of your release.
And then you were pulling him up, coaxing him into your arms, your mouth eager to find his and taste your spend on his lips. He wrapped the side of the blanket around you to keep you warm as you rolled against him, both lost in an oxytocin high, muttering words of affection to each other.
Both falling hard under the adoring pink eyes of the cherry blossoms.
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The next day, someone knocked on the door to the women’s restroom at the Velvet Hammer because it was locked, and Steve’s head sprang up from between the thighs of the woman he had propped up on the sink counter.
“Ocupado!” he yelled in Spanish, lips and chin glistening in the dim red light.
The woman with the short skirt shoved up around her waist and her feet planted on his shoulders whined, “Don’t stop, Stevie, I’m close,” which made Steve’s mouth lunge forward again with unbridled enthusiasm.
About a minute later, she came, while grabbing his hair and telling him no one ever made her cum that hard. She was a yoga instructor, and they’d only met up a few times so far, but he was already thinking about getting her name tattooed somewhere on his body.
As they were cleaning up, there was another knock at the door, this time it was more of an aggressive pounding, followed by the voice of Jackie, one of the servers. “Telephone call for you, Casanova!” She swatted the door a few more times with the palm of her hand.
Steve let Mary the yoga instructor go out first, and then he followed after a ten count, tucking his shirt in and slicking his hair back as he went. Mary went to the bar to wait for him. It was almost 9:30 and he was getting off early that night because there was another bouncer there, and it was slow for a Friday.
Steve ducked in behind the bar and yanked the receiver to his ear. “Yeah, this is Steve? Whadda ya want?”
It was you, and by the sound of the gentle sucking in of breath and tremor in your voice, you had been crying. Your voice was a tiny mew. “Steve? Have you seen Eddie tonight?”
At the dire tone of your voice, Steve curled into the corner of the bar and put a finger in his other ear so that he could hear you more clearly. “I haven’t, but I should put an ankle monitor on him. Are you okay? Are Oliver and the girls okay?”
You cleared your throat, about to try and explain, but then just said, “Everyone is fine. I’m sorry to bother you. I have to go,” and then you hung up on him, sobs jerking in your chest.
-----------
Earlier that same evening, Robin and Oliver came over to have a pizza night with you and Katie at your place, and then Robin and Katie cuddled in front of the TV while you and Oliver spread out at the kitchen table to make some art.
You had been messing around with some watercolor pencil sketches when they first arrived, and Oliver was mesmerized. He sat as close as he could to you and asked if he could help. You brought out a bunch of markers and crayons and brushes from your studio, and the two of you worked in silence for periods of time, just enjoying the craft. He was a creative, intelligent little boy, and the latent motherhood genes in your DNA made you feel very protective of him. Mess with you? Fine. Mess with Oliver? I will end you.
His concentration reminded you of a younger you, honestly, and a couple times he mentioned his Uncle Eddie and your heart swelled.
Speaking of Eddie---last night, after he made you cum like a banshee, you got dressed so he could take you back down the hill to your car. You called him once you got home, like he asked you to, but you hadn’t heard from him since. Fridays were always busy for him at work, never mind the rest of the shit he had to deal with, so you weren’t too worried about it. He’d probably call you later when he was in bed. There had been a palpable shift, and things were different between the two of you now. You were both on the same page, each committed to a mutual respect for each other.
By the end of the evening, when there was only a few crusts of pizza left in the box, Oliver gathered the handful of artwork he’d created on your sketchbook paper, and slid them over to you as if he was making a business deal.
“Can you sell these in your gallery?” he asked, bending one of his small fingers into the stack. “That way I can help my mom pay some bills.”
For more reasons that one, you started to tear up. You turned your head away to sniff and ran your finger under your eyes, blinking as wide as you could to keep the waterworks at bay.
“Ollie,” Robin said softly. She had just been coming up behind him when he said that, and her eyes met yours. “Things have been a bit stressful lately, but I never told him to---”
“I wish I could,” you nodded, composing yourself, turning to smile at Oliver. “These drawings are worth way too much, though, our gallery could never afford them.”
He looked thoughtfully down at the stack and shuffled them, smiling to himself, and then he pulled one out and passed hit to you. “This one is you and uncle Eddie. You can keep it.”
You were suddenly so emotional. Was your period close? Was someone cutting onions?
The picture he drew with watercolor pencils and charcoal and crayons was a tall stick figure with long, wavy dark hair holding hands with a big pink heart with arms and legs, but no hair or other defining characteristics. An orange oval with legs and a round head to represent your cat Charlie, and there were “m” shaped birds and a sun in the sky.
You thanked Oliver, swallowing back a hitch in your chest, and immediately went over to put his artwork on the fridge, wiping your wet cheeks.
-------
Robin and Oliver had been gone for 20 minutes or so, and you and Katie were wrapped up on opposite ends of the couch watching a horror movie in the dark, candles burning on the coffee table, when the doorbell rang.
It didn’t just ding once: whoever it was blasted their finger onto the button a good 6 or 7 times before they let up.
“What the hell,” you murmured, pausing the tape as you got up, prancing to the door, hoping that it might be Eddie.
You peaked through the peephole and was confused to see no one there. Your eyeball was scanning around for other signs of life when it landed on a manila envelope on the doormat.
“Where you expecting some mail?” You called to Katie, and she got so curious, she jumped up from the couch to come down the hall and see what made you ask that.
She checked the peephole to take a look at the envelope and the surrounding area. Down the street, you heard a car engine start up.
You backed up, worry creasing your brow. “Leave it. I have a bad feeling.”
Katie threw you a look over her shoulder before she unlocked the door and swiftly bent down to snatch the envelope before reeling back inside and clamping the locks down again.
“It has your name on it,” she said, handing it to you.
Sure enough, on the front was your full name in block letters, and on the other side was a sealed lip held in place by an aluminum tab.
Just then, a dark red Chevy Cavalier crept down the street without its headlights and eased onto the main road, out of sight.
-----------
Eddie was at the garage finishing up until 6, and then he had a beer with Bones, who was also a Coffin King and one of his mechanics, and then he went over to Wayne’s to help him install a new cabinet in his bathroom. He made them both some tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner, and it got him wondering if you would like it if he made it for you.
It was getting late, and he almost called you from Wayne’s, but decided it would feel good to take his boots off and lay down first. He’d let you know the night before that you might not hear from him until late; he was determined to be a better communicator and not let you down again.
He yawned as he entered his apartment, locking the door behind him and throwing his leather on the back of the sofa.
The new answering machine that he had picked up from Radio Shack on his lunch break, and set up at your request, was blinking that he had 2 new messages, but it wasn’t something he was used to checking, so he cracked open a beer and hopped in the shower first.
------------
Once you saw what was in the envelope, denial was the first stage you jumped to.
“But, what are these?” You spread them out on the kitchen island, shock clamping down on your brain so that it refused to process the information in front of you.
They were 8x10 photos, taken with some type of high-powered camera...of Eddie. In his apartment. With two different women on separate occasions. All taken within the past couple days.
How did you know that they were taken within the last couple days? Whoever took them didn’t want to leave you with any room for doubt, and so they were holding up the front page of the paper for that day to mark each incident.
But, you knew Eddie so well, that detail would not have been necessary.
In the ones where he was in nothing but his boxers, kissing Erica in the hallway, you could see the markings from the love bite on his neck that you had accidentally given him over the weekend when he came to pick you up at the gallery.
In the second set of photos, where a tattooed redhead you didn’t recognize was behind him on the bed with her arms wrapped around him---he was in the exact same t-shirt he’d worn last night with a smudge of your red lipstick on the white collar. From when you were both under the cherry blossoms. When he promised that you could trust him and there was no one else. After you opened yourself up to him and let him take a piece of you.
“Who would do this?” Katie said in a hush, almost to herself, picking up each one to look at it closer. “Why would someone do this?”
“There must be a mistake,” you mumbled, your nervous system crashing, feeling lightheaded.
Katie swallowed and put down the photo she was holding, giving you a look that was full of sadness and concern. “How could it be a mistake, though? That is definitely Eddie.”
Feeling yourself about to lose it, you scrambled to pull all of the photos together and hurried down the hall to lock yourself in your room. Once inside, you clutched the photos to your chest and slid down the door until you were on the ground, shaking, choking on tears.
-----------
The older man with the salt n’ pepper hair and crystal blue eyes returned to the Velvet Hammer on Friday evening just to see if you were working. He had a whiskey sour at the bar and asked after you, but was told you didn’t have a shift that evening. Steve overheard the conversation he was having with the bartender and went over to him.
“She’s a friend of mine,” Steve raised an eyebrow, rolling a toothpick between his lips. “Why are you asking about her?”
John turned on his bar stool and shook Steve’s hand, white teeth brilliant against his tan skin.
“She waited on our table the other day, and, it took me a while, but I finally realized where I knew her from.” He paused to extend his hand and ask Steve if he could buy him a drink, but Steve declined.
John opened his wallet to pull a business card out. “I bought some original art from her at an outdoor market a few years ago. She’s a brilliant painter," he met Steve’s bored gaze, seemingly unaffected by the intimidation factor that he usually had on people.
He handed Steve his card. “I’d love to commission another piece from her, if she’s willing. Do you think you could have her call my office?”
Steve inspected the card, turning it over.
“I wrote my personal line on the back,” he continued. “I’m usually at work, but my secretary always knows where to find me.”
Steve knew that you’d be glad for the extra cash, so he slipped the guys card in his back pocket instead of throwing it away like he normally would.
“I didn’t catch your name?” John asked Steve.
“That’s because I never threw it,” Steve returned, introducing himself.
“Good to meet you, Steve,” he nodded sincerely. “My name is John. John Gregson.”
Steve had already read his name on the business card and was still trying to figure out why it sounded so familiar as he watched him get into a black Mercedes across the street.
----------
Eddie was in his gray sweats, drying his hair with a towel when he finally noticed the number 2 flashing on the machine. He pushed play absently as he went to sit on the bed.
The first message sounded like a strangled gasp and then a sniffle, and it made his head snap up, both hands holding onto the blue towel around his neck.
“...Eddie…” it was you, and he could tell you were in distress, and you’d been crying. He leaned forward to hover over the machine, his brow clenched. There was a stretch of time where you were struggling to speak and only managed to swallow a few times. “….why would you do this to me?” Then another pause when it sounded like you were whispering whywhywhy over and over under your breath.
You finished with, “This hurts so bad...." And then there was a click and the message abruptly stopped.
Eddie’s head was reeling, fear and worry jack-hammering in his veins.
His eyes wide and frantic, he picked up the receiver to call you, but then the second message clicked on.
The sound of Charlene’s voice spiked with amused laughter sent a dagger into his gut:
“I warned you.”
--------
Part 9
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Taglist for my loves: @hideoutside @leilalaufeyson02 @lilpotatobean2 @dandelionnfluff @sidthedollface2
@munsons-mayhem28 @eddiemunson95 @kelsiegrin
@ireidsmut @stylesxmunson @nope-thanks @lofaewrites @corrodedcoffinsmut @seventhlevelofhell @whatwedontdointheshadows @falling-solar-system @kurdtbean
@emxcast @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @ms1oftheboys
@hellv1ra @dream-a-little-nightmare @etherealglimmer @manicmagicmayhem @layla-loves-ed @aysheashea @unfocused81 @notsobubblybaby @truffleshuffle12
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glorious-imagines · 2 months
Text
The Gala .II
TW: Mentions of Premature Birth
p1 p2 p3
"So, you and Conner?" Wally inquires as he sips some insanely expensive wine.
Y/n scoffs, "Yeah, we've been talking for a while. He's..." she shrugs.
"So you're not actively pursuing a romantic relationship with him?"
"No, I am... I mean, maybe?"
"Sounds like your heart isn't entirely in it."
"Conner's great. He really is. He treats me like I'm the center of his universe...
"But he's not Jason."
Y/n didn't like that he knew exactly where her thoughts were. But Wally was right. And she felt awful about it. "I hurt a lot less than I did in the beginning. Conner is the reason for that."
Wally takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor. "Think you can waltz and talk?"
There's a slight tingle of warmth in Y/n's nose as she allows Wally to take the lead. Her mouth quirked up wistfully as she glided across the floor. "You know, Jason is the one that taught me to Waltz."
"Really?"
"It was our first not-date."
"Not date?" Wally gently spun them.
"Ugh, I was so against romance in the beginning."
"Why?"
"Love hurts like hell. Bastard before Jay was a dickhead. But we're not talking about them." When Wally takes a step forward, Y/n takes a step back.
"Some other time, then."
"Anyway, Jason suggested we go on a date, but as friends. Of course, I was skeptical. 'men are garbage people' was my mantra. But Shana said, 'at best you have a good time; at worst you never talk to him again.' So, I went. Turns out he teaches a class on the Waltz to inner-city kids."
"Clearly, it worked."
"I didn't know then, but I fell for him that day. Like, of all the things he can teach those kids, why'd he choose the Waltz?" Y/n's laugh carried to those around her who laughed even though they didn't know what was said.
"It must have been love at first sight for him. And I can see why." He twirls Y/n away and then back into his arms as the song draws to a close.
Y/n sighed dejectedly. "He just had to go and ruin everything."
Wally pulls her into a hug. "Try giving Conner a proper go. He might surprise you."
"Thanks, Wa-"
"Please don't tell me y'all're having heart to hearts." Shana interrupts; she and her sister Meia looking rather disappointed in her.
Wally smiles brightly as he leans in to kiss Meia. "You can't just decide where to have a heart to heart."
"I hope you don't mind if I steal my beloved for a dance." Meia asks politely.
Y/n feigns shock. "Your boyfriend? Flirting with me when you have such a beautiful woman, already?" Everyone laughs when Meia tries to hide her face.
"See ya, Meia. If you see our third, lemme know so we can get him drunk as hell." Meia gives Shana a thumbs up before Shana drags Y/n to the bar. ... After his confrontation with Conner, Jason went to look for Y/n. He was serious about telling her everything. She deserved to know what a bastard Conner was. Like, yeah, maybe she didn't want to be with him. But he'd be damned if she stayed with someone who'd manipulate her life.
He was like a guided storm as he moved through people. Forcing them to break apart from one another and make way for him. He was determined to protect you from assholes. Conner being one of the highest order.
Then he heard her laugh. Saw her bright smile. His heart stuttered. His storm faltered, and he stood there. Gaping in awe of her. She was with Conner. Genuinely laughing at something he had said. Conner seemed to be embarrassed, trying to hide in his hands. Then she leaned up and kissed his hands before taking them away from his face. Her smile intact, she told him-- 
And Jason had to force himself to turn away. They were having such an intimate moment. Like they'd been together all this time. And he—he was intruding. He'd known her for so long. Had learned all her intricacies, her tells. Now, someone else was learning them. And he was an intruder. It hurt. Like hell. Like she'd stabbed him with a jagged and rusty knife, and Conner had twisted it.
His phone vibrated in his chest pocket. He took a breath. And then another. And one more. It was hard to collect himself when the object of his affection was twenty feet away. Being affectionate with not him. Breathe. Beathe again. In and out. Once his heart steadied and the sting in his eyes disappeared, he answered his phone.
"Jay, it's Gabby. We need to talk. Like now, right now."
"Why the urgency? You sound like you found a dead body." A beat of silence, and he was neverous that she'd known whoever she found. "Who is--"
"I didn't find a body, dumbass." She interrupted quickly. "Meet me at mine." And she hangs up.
He didn't like the sound of Gabby like this. All disoriented and vague. S'not like her at all. Well, least he had an excuse to leave. Being here was hell. He beelined straight to the nearest exit without looking back at Y/n.
He was at her place in thirty minutes. He'd decided to take public transportation. He ran into some school kids bullying another. He put a stop to it and gave the bullied his number for emergencies.
He pounded on her door. "Gabby, open up." He bangs some more.
She swung her door open, features fixed in a less than pleased grimace—a hand on her hip and one on the door. "Banging on my door like you the damn police!"
Jason chuckled; he knew she hated when he did that, obviously. "Next time answer the door faster."
"Get in here." She says and leads him to her bedroom.
He takes a seat on her bed, his hand going under her pillow to grab whatever snack she had there. "Ooh, gummy bears." He pops a couple in his mouth. "Why am I here?"
"So, I went to your place like you asked. With the pies. Isabel let me in, of course. She was all huffing and stuff. I didn't think much of it because she's pregnant. Figured every time she moved, it was like a workout because she's got to carry three bodies." She paused her incessant pacing to speak to him directly. "Which she is fucking huge, by the way. I am never having kids for as long as I live. You know any doctors--"
"Gabs, focus." Jason interrupts her babbling. And babbling wasn't like her. He glanced down, and she kept tapping her index fingers to her thumbs. "Just rip the bandaid, Gabby.
"There was someone there. He was naked except for a towel--"
"S'not like she and I are together in the sense that she can't be with other guys--"
"Lemme finish. Long story short, her water broke--"
Jason shot up with alarm. "What?! Gabby lead with that! She's months too early--!"
She put a hand on his chest and sat him back down. "Let. Me. Finish." She enunciated more sternly. "I saw the twins. They're adorable."
"Gabby," he warned.
"I had a friend of mine do a DNA test on them."
He glared at her. "Thats a line. How the hell would you have gotten--?"
"One of your many visits to the diner, duh. I was already in the process of it anyway."
"What?!" His anger suddenly flared.
"You're my friend! Of course I was gonna do it!" She huffs, frowning and shaking her head slowly. "Okay, yeah, no, I'm sorry. That was shitty of me. I promise not to do that again, and if you never trust me, I will understand."
Jason huffs too, his shoulders sagging like a weight lifted. "No, it's fine. I mean, it's not, and you definitely crossed a line, but... I get it. I... I kinda thought about it, too. I just wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt."
They both take a seat on her bed. She gently takes his hand in hers as he leans against her. "They're not mine, are they...?"
"Do you want them to be?" She whispers slowly, and he looks at her questionably. "Let me start off by saying the babies are fine. They're in that box thingy that keeps premature babies alive. Doctor says they'll have to stay there till they can breathe and eat on their own."
Jason nods along. "And Isabel?"
"Also, fine. Obviously, she needs to heal, but she'll be in there for significantly less time than the twins. Now, as I was saying, Isabel doesn't know that you know the truth. And after everything that's happened," she squeezes his hand a bit. "If you want to be a father to them, it's your decision to make."
"Thanks, Gabby. Never go behind my back like this again, but thanks."
~~~ I have no idea what a waltz actually looks like, so don't quote me on anything that I wrote 🤷🏿 
Wait, should I have tagged Conner x Reader? 🤔
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Note
Request 2 flufftober
Chris x adopted daughter
She’s never experienced the infamous ‘evans Halloween party’ or any holiday with their family ever or even before she was adopted by Chris, so she’s not very sure what to do or how to act because she’s not used to this but they have it at chris’ house because he agreed to host and basically halfway though the night reader goes to her room to calm down with dodger since she’s got a calm corner in her room but it’s a separate room in her room if you get what i mean. And chris finds her overwhelmed by all of this since it’s loud and just overstimulating as hell so she feels guilty because she’d always get moaned at for being the ‘problem child’ but Chris assures her it’s okay to be overwhelmed and overstimulated by this because it’s not her normal since she’s never really had a normal so they talk about it since it’s okay so she doesn’t feel like a burden or a problem and it’s just fluff with a little angst because her parents weren’t nice people (can relate) so he gives her the space and the comfort to decompress from this and then lets her say when she’s ready to go back out if she is so he’s not rushing her 💖
I was Afraid
Pairing: Chris Evans x Adopted Daughter!reader
Warning: Glass Breaking, Yelling, talk of abuse (physical), Reader Overstimulated/ Shut down, Weighted Blanket, Anxiety,
A/N: changed it to a welcome party! hopefully I did this justice
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Being a teenager in the foster system, you never thought you would get adopted, even less so by Chris Evans. The two of you meet through a screening of Captain America: The Winter Soldier hosted by the City of NYC for all the kids in foster care. Chris and Sebastian Stan came to stop by, and the two of you instantly connected.
Five months later, Chris signed the papers and you moved into his home in Boston. After settling in, Chris mentioned that he would have the family over for a welcome party. You had met them each individually before but never had they all been over at once.
Now, the gathering was in full swing. Chris and Scott were outside catching up, plus Chris really wanted you to spend time with your aunt and cousins to get to know them. Your cousins were all playing a board game. You, Carly, and Shana were in the kitchen starting to clean up from the party. You went to go clean out a glass bowl until it accidentally slipped from your fingers, dropping it on the floor.
The sound of the glass on the floor made your breath hitch. Your cousins, not knowing any better, ran to the kitchen and started walking towards the broken glass. "kids, KIDS!" Carly spoke loudly. You could tell she was getting overwhelmed, not wanting her kids and niece to get hurt. "Step away from the glass," Chris and Scott came inside after hearing the breaking as they took in the scene in front of them.
Nobody took in the way you were reacting, standing still and eyes wide. You made a huge mistake, and you knew that this was going to go bad. You felt your breathing going heavy, and your brain started to hurt. Your mind was racing with all of the possible scenarios of how Chris or the family would punish you for your mistakes. You didn't want to get hit, you had to run. Run.
Shit," you heard Chris murmuring under his breath. "Okay back up, BACK UP!" Chris said as he went to go grab the dustpan from the kitchen. He noticed you just standing there and he quickly moved you out of the way. You came back to reality at that moment as you quickly ran upstair to your new room.
Meanwhile, Chris was too preoccupied with cleaning to realize that you left the room. He finished sweeping the glass into the dustpan, and put it in a plastic bag and away for the moment. Once it was away, Chris looked around for you, realizing your presence was missing. "Hey," he turned towards Carly, "where did Y/n go?" Carly exhaled as she put her hands on the counter. "I think I heard her go upstairs. Maybe it all got too much for her," she spoke to her brother. "You okay if I go check up on her?" he asked his sister. "Of course, go" she replied as he started heading up the stairs.
Your room at this point didn't have much, you still needed to personalize it. But the one thing you for sure had was the nice bean bag in the corner with a white weighted blanket on top of it. Chris got it for you after the first couple of hangouts when you mentioned how when you get anxious you just need comfort. You quickly got under the blanket and closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down.
A couple minutes later, you heard a gentle knock on the door. "Hey, sweetie? It's Chris, can I come in?" you heard the voice say. While Chris adopted you officially, you still weren't at the point of calling him dad yet. You nodded your head, but then realized he couldn't see you. "Sure," you said as you wrapped the blanket around yourself more.
As Chris stepped into your room, he saw that you were curled up into the blanket. Wanting to give you space, he closed the door behind him as he sat on your bed. "I see the blanket has come to good use," he spoke, trying to make conversation. "Do you like it?" he questioned. You gave a nod as you try to decompress after the event. "Look, I don't want to say that I know what you are going through because I don't. But I'm in this for the long run with you, and I want to help you as much as I can." He spoke softly. "So, want to tell me what that was about?"
You took a breath before continuing. "I was afraid you were going to hit me," you practically whispered. Chris just let out a huge sigh as he stood up and made his way over to you. With each step he took, he saw your body tense up more and more. Chris stopped and knelt down in front of you. "Y/n, can you look at me," you shook your head quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you spoke as you felt the tears coming down your face. He quickly got rid of the blanket and scooped you up into his lap as he held you.
"Shh, shh, I got you, hun. I got you, it's okay" you heard him say into your ear as he stroked your hair. Your hand was shakingly clutched onto the white t-shirt Chris was wearing. Breathe in, breathe out, come on just like we practiced," he whispered as you tried doing what he said. Deep breaths in and out. You continued to do that until you and Chris could feel your heartbeat and tears slow down.
"Hun," Chris said as he wiped some tears off your face and moved your hair out of your face. "You know I will never EVER hurt you. And I know it will take some time for your brain to know that. But know that you are in a safe home, and you are loved, okay?" he spoke as you looked into your lap. "Hey kiddo, look at me," he requested as you looked into his blue eyes. "I will always keep you safe. I promise"
You latched onto him again as he said those words, feeling your world become a little bit safer to live in.
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