#then Chris came to pick me up and i immediately started sobbing demanding to know if Emma lost her memories in the anime

[emmaspolaroid]

too much to liiiive too much to die forrrr

#fun fact I finished the series in the back of my parents car during the course of a two day road trip #and I was like hey I’m about to finish reading a series of books I really like so you know how I’m going to act right #and they were like heavy sigh Yes #and I did a good job keeping it together tbh except at one point I was making a weird sound bc I was crying #and my mom was like omg I think we hit something #we stopped to eat and I was at the part where Peter Ratri was running like a coward and my parents were like oh he deserves it #they don’t understand but they try to humor me lol #I was like she did so good y’all she saved everyone #they were like that’s nice dear LMAO #then Chris came to pick me up and i immediately started sobbing demanding to know if Emma lost her memories in the anime #and he was like what #and I was like infodumping on him in the front yard and he was like omg #and my parents were like please take her #this is a fond memory #to me lol

[babbushka]

The Rabbi Is Coming

Flip Zimmerman x Reader (Darling Jewish Wife AU)

A/N: This oneshot is based entirely off of one of my favorite videos of all time, Company is Coming by Chris Fleming. Every time I see it, it reminds me of preparing for my own family holiday gatherings, so I’ve taken it and run with it lol. I just wanted to write something short and silly for Passover, lol, and I hope you enjoy! 

Also inspired by this prompt sent in by anonymous: From your Passover prompts, will you please do this one for Flip? It sounds just like him!“They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat.”

2k, crack treated seriously lol, humor. Putting a small cw for the Zimmerman’s son, in case folks don’t like reading about kids (this is the last time he’s mentioned for a while I promise lol)

                                                ----------------------

Early in the morning, just after sunrise, Flip yawns and stretches awake. The golden light of morning shines through the curtains that gently move from the breeze of the ceiling fan, and a melody of chirping birds signal the official start of morning. Despite having to get up early for work every day, Flip isn’t much of a morning person. But something about Springtime and the warmth that’s on the way makes him appreciate getting up, even on the weekends.  

“Good morning, sunshine, light of my life – ” Flip rolls over onto his side, ready to coax you out of your sleep as well, ready to kiss you and start the day together, but when he reaches you’re your sleep-snuggled body, he finds the bed empty, and frowns.

Sitting up, he looks around the bedroom. Your side of the covers are neatly made, and Flip can only blink, his frown deepening. He clears his throat, raspy from disuse overnight, “(Y/N)?”

It isn’t until he hears the vacuum cleaner going downstairs, followed by a frustrated groan echoing through the house, that he remembers just what day it is, and falls back onto his pillow with a wince, lighting up a cigarette and scrubbing a hand over his face with a low,

“…Oh shit.”

He checks the clock, sees that it’s practically seven o’clock, and gets out of bed. Pulling on a casual t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, he leaves his room to see his son standing tentatively in his own doorway, as loud sounds come from downstairs.

“Pop?” The five year old asks with no small amount of hesitation in his voice, immediately reaches for Flip, who scoops him up and balances him on his hip.  

“Mornin’ honey.” Flip kisses his son’s cheek, and the boy giggles, clinging to him as Flip walks down the stairs.

He’s obviously annoyed that it’s not you who gets to wake him up and carry him downstairs, as he normally prefers, but Flip doesn’t know how to tell him that today isn’t a normal day. Still, the boy is always filled with questions, and his little eyebrows furrow into an all too familiar frown as they move closer to the chaos that is you deciding to vacuum first thing in the morning.

“Why is Mama acting like that?” He demands to know, as the two of them stop at the landing, watching as you, still in your pajamas, are fighting with furniture.

“Tonight’s the first night of Pesach.” Flip explains.

“So?” His son challenges, and Flip wants to laugh, because he agrees with the kid, but when you get into a mood like this, there’s no stopping you.

“So, there’s a very special guest coming for dinner tonight, and she wants to make sure the house looks nice and clean for him.” Flip sets the boy down, and he purses his lips, like he’s trying to assess the validity of that, eventually settling on complaining,

“But we already cleaned the house.”

Flip sighs, because he’s right, you spent the entire week cleaning to prepare for Passover. It wasn’t like a normal house cleaning, Passover had special rules that had to be obeyed. One of which, was the complete and total elimination of chametz, or food made from leavened dough. The other, was the koshering of the kitchen.

But he wasn’t so sure his five year old would care to hear about all that this early.

“I know son. Let’s go see what she fixed up for breakfast,” Flip leads his son through the living room carefully, before crouching down to his level and saying very seriously, “And then when you’re done eating, just do whatever Mama says, you hear me? Whatever she says.”

Just then, you come barreling through the living room with the vacuum and a tangle of cord in your hand, shouting at a completely inappropriate volume for the hour, “Zeeskiet if you haven’t made your bed just throw it away it’s too late to make it now!”

The boy looks up at Flip, and Flip immediately shakes his head and amends, “Not that.”

Flip is a good helper. He likes to help, and he wants to help, but sometimes when you get like this, it’s a danger to himself and everyone around for him to try and insert himself into a situation where you are a hurricane of anxious energy. He busies himself with getting your son settled at the kitchen table, giving him a big breakfast of fresh fruit, nuts, and yogurt, before bracing himself to venture back towards the dining room.  

“The Rabbi is coming – get rid of the couches we can’t let people know we sit!” You shout, pointing an aggressive finger at one of the dining chairs, “This chair needs to be pushed in, there cannot be any signs of living in this house.”

Flip is quick to do as you say, even though what you’re saying is nonsense – he knows better than to point that out.

“I don’t care if we have to throw everything out,” You’re mostly talking to yourself at this point, just…loudly, and aggressively, “I want this place looking like a contemporary fusion restaurant by noon.”

It was a miracle and a half that the Rabbi agreed to lead your Seder dinner, and to say that the pressure was getting to you was the understatement of the century. You had everything picked out, what you were going to wear, what Flip and the kids were going to wear; you’d been cooking and prepping all week, and now the day was finally here and you were totally freaking out.

“Flip?” You shout, walking in circles around the dining room, trying to get rid of any possible point of contamination of chametz.

“Yeah?” Flip replies, already knowing that because he’s in the other room, you probably can’t hear him. He already is walking towards you when he hears you again.

“Phil!” You call a little sharper, and Flip huffs out a laugh, his suspicion correct.

“I’m right here ketsl, what can I do?” Flip startles you by suddenly being behind directly behind you, and you throw your hands up in exasperation.

“Oh my god – we need more pillows.” You gesture to the den where the conversation pit is decked out entirely with pillows. “Can you fluff the pillows? I need these things looking fluffed.”

Flip does exactly as he’s told, and the rest of the morning follows suit.

You wandered around the house cleaning; vacuuming sweeping dusting sanitizing every possible surface, the floors, even the ceiling, shouting out random demands and requests like:

We need more flowers. We gotta put flowers in every window. Philly can you put flowers in the kitchen?

We can’t have any clothes! Everyone take off your clothes!

At that, your son cast a semi-distressed look to Flip and asked, an uncertain, “Pop?”

“Not that either!” Flip immediately answered, lest his son think it’s okay to go running around in the nude tonight.

Somewhere around hour two, your mood shifts from manic to meltdown. Your son had been instructed to make sure his toys were all nicely put away in his room, mostly to keep him out of trouble or to prevent any accidental tripping over wires. Flip though, is still running around trying to keep up with you, out of breath from your own chaos.

“What is this?” You yank the perfectly good little towel out of the oven door handle where Flip had just watched you place it, and near-tears, you groan, “This is a dish towel! We need a hand towel! What are we, barbarians?”

He’s about to say something, try to console you or at the very least calm you down, but then you come to a complete and sudden stand-still and point out, “Phil oh god there’s muffins on the counter.”

Frowning, Flip whirled around and wondered how the fuck those even got there. All of your friends knew that there was absolutely no leavened product allowed in the house, Rabbi or no, and he’s trying to wrack his brain around where they came from as you back against the wall.

“Oh my god oh – that’s it -- we have to go into the witness protection program folks!” You chuckle humorously, effectively giving up. “Shalom Rabbi! Welcome to the Zimmerman household. We live outside. We eat mud. And sticks.”

At this, you give one big overwhelmed sigh, and a little sob hiccups out of your chest.

“Hey,” Flip frowns, kicking himself for not trying to get you to take a breather earlier than this, “Hey it’s going to be okay.”

Flip gets down on the floor with you, and pulls you into a tight hug. You shove your face under his neck and cry it out, and Flip soothes your back. He knows how big of a deal tonight is for you, and he wants to do everything he can to make you happy, but letting this go on any longer won’t be good for anyone.

“I’ll get rid of the muffins, we won’t tell anyone about it, okay?” He pulls you to face him, your eyes wet and wide, your chin wobbling. He thinks you’re so ridiculous, working yourself up like this, but he loves you so much to see it regardless.

“Did you fluff the pillows?” You ask in a small sad voice, and Flip nods seriously, brushing some of your stray locks that escaped the scarf you have wrapped around your head to protect your hair, away from your face.

“Yes ketsl, I fluffed the pillows.” He kisses each of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your forehead.

“Okay, alright okay, everyone calm down.” You say, wiping your tears away and taking deep measured breaths, suddenly asking, “What time is it?”

“Uhh,” Flip cranes his head around to try and catch a good glimpse at the clock on the wall, wondering how the hell it’s only, “Nine-thirty.”

You blink, and blink again, and then shuffle to sit upright there on the kitchen floor.

“Oh.” You reply, pursing your lips and scratching the side of your jaw. “In that case…I’m going to take a nap.”

Flip chuckles and lets you go. You’re too much all the time, and that’s exactly why he loves you. He’s never met anyone who cares as much about something like this, than you, and he wants you to go relax while he takes care of everything.

And he does, his son a proper helper as you snooze in bed, already having worked yourself to exhaustion and needing your strength back for the long dinner that’s going to come. The offending muffins are given to a neighbor, the surfaces re-sanitized, the kitchen all prepared. Your son even sets the table all by himself, enjoying being tall for his age thanks to Flip’s genetics.

When evening falls much later, and all your other guests have arrived, you feel your pulse spike as the doorbell rings. You’re dressed to the nines, as is everyone else, but Flip thinks that you’re the most radiant thing in the universe. You’re holding your son on your hip as Flip opens the door, already extending a hand for him to shake.

“Shalom Rabbi, thank you so much for joining us tonight, we can’t tell you how much of an honor it is.” You beam, as if you hadn’t had a total breakdown only that morning, as Flip invites the Rabbi inside.

“Of course Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, the honor is mine. And may I say, you have a beautiful home.” He looks around appreciatively, giving a nod of approval that has all the air rushing out of your lungs.

“I’m thrilled to hear you think so.” You grin, leading him through your home and into the dining room where your other guests have been happily entertaining themselves, “Shall we get started then?”

“They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!” Flip announces, and that has everyone laughing, including the Rabbi.

And as the Seder commences, Flip looks across the table and gives his son a wink. In return, he lets out a small giggling laugh, glad that all the preparations and chaos you put them through have successfully paid off.

                                                     ------------------

Taggin’ some Flip lovin’ friends! @mochabucky​​ @sacklerscumrag​​ @artsymaddie​​ @bitchydecisions​​ @direnightshade​​ @reyloaddict55​​ @thembohux​​  @sunflowersinthesnow​​ @babayagakeanu​​ @safarigirlsp​​  @steeevienicks​​  @the-unmanaged-mischief​​ @materialisthicc​​  @hswritingrecs​​  @han68000​​ @rosi3ba3z​​ @chapterhappygirl​​​ @loverofallthings​​​  @bxnnywriting​ @groovetoob​ 

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman fanfic #adam driver fanfic #adcu #passover #my writing #jewish!reader #flip zimmerman fluff #idk how to tag this lol

[haechanniesunflowers]

Stray kids reaction to you being distant all of a sudden

Guys I did it, I wrote another :D

Warning: derogatory words, depression, anxiety

Bang Chan

It started happening after you appeared on Chan's room as a guest. Chan announced his relationship to the public and stays practically begged him to invite you to an episode of Chan's room. He convinced you that it will be fun.

You guys were having a good time, he made you feel comfortable and told stays how much you mean to him. You were reading comments, all saying how pretty you are and how you two look so good together. There was one in particular that caught your attention and made you shut down. You tried your best to keep your cool for Chan's sake and ended the live in a cute way.

You avoided him for a week, and Chan decided to phone call you on the next episode which you didn't answer. He felt something wasn't right because you shouldn't be busy at that time so he came over to your place after the live.

"is something the matter? Are you feeling okay?" he asks.

"yes Chris. Why though?" you say.

"I don't know, I guess I can feel your energy. You're sad" he says. You love this about him. How he can just sense your mood even when you perfectly hide your feelings.

"it's just a comment that bugged me, someone called me an 'attention seeking fat whore' and I let it get to me"

Chan looked visibly upset.

"I'm sorry you had to read that. They don't know what they're saying and aren't educated enough. You're perfect and I couldn't have asked for a better girlfriend" he says as he holds you in his arms.

Lee Know

You didn't realize that you had a scowl on the entire time Minho's performance was on. He had a dance stage with a very hot female dancer and you couldn't help but be jealous of the way he held her waist, how he easily lifted her and the way his hips moved against her. The sultry eye contact and her lips ghosting on your boyfriend's made you feel so jealous and uneasy you could have ripped your scalp off. Your voice of reason kept telling you it meant nothing and it was just a dance performance for his fans but your inner bitch said no sis he looks good with her and he deffo gon leave you for her so you being you, listened to the inner bitch and made the genius decision of not talking to him anymore yay.

The fact that he didn't notice your silent treatment because he was just so busy with practice and schedules, added fuel to the fire and even your inner bitch was like hey stop assuming things it was only funny the first time but no. Minho came to see you during a break between practice because it had been some time and he missed you a lot. He unlocked the door and walked in quietly wanting to surprise you and found you laying in bed crying.

"what's wrong why're you crying" he says softly, scaring you in the process and you scream.

"what're you doing here?!?!" you yell out trying to catch your breath. He slowly reaches for your hand but you pull it away and cover your face with the blanket.

"tell me what's wrong" he coos making you cry harder. He pulls you into his lap and hums a song rocking you back and forth until you calm down.

"I thought you left me for that girl you danced with" you mumble. He internally face palms. "I saw your performance and you two looked so good together and then you didn't contact me so I assumed it was over" you look at him with teary puppy eyes. After he reassured your that it was indeed just a performance and he wasn't going to leave your for another woman you were back to normal and it was time for him to go but he wasn't going to leave without teasing you.

"so you were jealous ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)"

Changbin

You haven't been replying to his phone calls or texts and he was getting worried. He knew you struggled sometimes but you always told him about it. And he didn't know what was up this time so his mind was making up scenarios. He didn't have time to see you because he was booked and busy and couldn't ask anyone to check up on you either. So after he was done with his schedule, and it was time to head to the dorm to sleep because the boys were dead tired, he compromised on his sleep just to see you. Isn't he the sweetest.

He knocked on your door but you didn't answer. After waiting for some time he couldn't wait anymore. Checking if the coast was clear, he took a pin out and picked your lock (he knows how to pick a lock guys okay)

He got in and went straight to your bedroom and saw you covered in blankets with the lights off.

"y/n?" he called softly, not wanting to startle you. You were expecting him sooner or later so it wasn't much of a shock.

He noticed you had become thinner and you looked tired. Knowing something triggered your depression, he came to sit next to you and hugged you. He understood you and that you needed space.

"you're so strong y/n, you will get through this" he says quietly.

You hug him back, nuzzling your face in his chest.

"I was worried, make sure to text me always okay?" he says and goes to sleep with you.

Hyunjin

You aren't the type to get jealous easily. You're pretty confident about your looks and your style so you knew Hyunjin had the best, you queen.

So please explain what you're feeling when you see an episode of stray kids reality show with another girl group as a guest, particularly Hyunjin getting along way too well with the pretty girl with purple hair, Hyeri. She's making him laugh and to top it off, the two of them reveal that they were class fellows in high school and were pretty tight.

Umm he never told you that. Why didn't he ever tell you that? Does he have something to hide? They still look pretty close.

You never learnt how to contain your jealousy so your brain automatically shuts out the source of it to protect you. He calls you but you're not picking up, "hmm maybe she's busy with her university work" he thinks and leaves it at that. You'll call him when you're free. But you don't, it's been over 2 weeks. No phone calls, no texts, nothing. He texts you asking if you're up for a lunch date but you don't reply so he goes to your place to check if everything's okay. Your flatmate let's him in and tells him you're in your room. To his disappointment, you're on your bed, using your phone.

"hey, why aren't you replying to my texts or answering the phone? Is everything okay?" he asks casually.

"oh, hey" you reply dryly, turning your attention back to your phone.

"okay... so are you up for lunch?"

"hmm? oh no I have plans with Jeno".

"Jeno? Lee Jeno? why? you know him and I don't get along well. Why're you suddenly hanging out with him?"

revenge is sweet you think.

"so? you don't get along with him. I happen to like him, he's really sweet and funny".

Hyunjin's catching on a little.

"yeah but you never really hung out with him before and I'm your boyfriend so I don't get why you're finding him sweet and funny out of the blue" he says.

"sounds like a you problem. I didn't complain about you being close to Hyeri, why're you getting jealous?"

click click click everything's making sense now.

"I see, you're jealous babe" he says licking his lips, eyes dark and voice deep. Damn you think he's hot.

He kisses you, it's deep and needy. This goes on for 2 minutes before he pulls away and gets up to leave. You're laying on the bed, out of breath and confused.

"I'll have lunch with Hyeri. Have fun with Jeno babe" he says before leaving.

He beat you at your own game sis I'm so sorry.

Han

Jisung loves you too much, always takes care of you and makes you happy. You're both obsessed with each other in a healthy way. You complete each other, the perfect match. Sometimes it was too much for you and you fell into the hole of self hate. You couldn't help but think what Jisung saw in you.

It was one of those times, and unlike other times, you weren't able to control yourself. You completely shut him out, blocked him from everywhere and his members too, making sure he couldn't contact you in any way. You would tell your roommate to say that you weren't home whenever he came to see you. You were hurt by your thoughts and it was hurting him too. He was so concerned, maybe I did something wrong he thought.

Your roommate answered the door and Han asked about you. "she's not home today either, sorry", she says apologetically.

"I'll wait for her" he pleaded.

"that's not a good idea, I don't know when she'll be back" she lied. But Han insisted so she had no choice but to let him in. She made him sit in the lounge while taking out her phone to text you not to come out of your room but she was too late. Here you were, asking her "what did he say" and immediately spotting him on the sofa. He's gotten thinner.

"y/n..." he said in a broken voice. Your roommate takes her cue to leave and apologizes to him for lying.

You didn't know what to say to him because you couldn't explain what was going on inside your head.

"do you hate me?" he asks looking sad.

You sit next to him and embrace him, just wanting him to be close.

"you know I love you" you say.

"then why?" he asks.

"it's me Hannie. It's not you. I can't fight it. I keep thinking I'm not enough for you" you say between sobs. He cries with you because he doesn't understand why you don't see how perfect you are.

Felix

He was preparing for a comeback so he couldn't see you often. You two decide to take a break and come back once he was done with promotions, it's what you always did so you won't demand attention and once you guys were free, you had each other. He's your safe place, you're his softest smol baby.

You supported Stray Kids but weren't exactly a fan so you didn't keep up with their promotions, hence you didn't know they were going for a dark concept this time. Felix and the boys dyed their hair and changed the makeup and wardrobe to fit the concept.

Overwhelmed. That's what you'd use to describe your state when you saw him on TV. Everything from his hair, his visuals and his clothes made you overwhelmed. He's just so beautiful and looked different.

It's not his fault at all but you hate the image you see in the mirror. Are you jealous of him? No. You're envious.

"he can own everything. Pull off everything. I can't do it" you say letting tears spill down your face.

When his promotions were over, he came to meet you but you were not ready to get back together. You were determined to change for him, for you. He was confused and hurt. Why did you need to change. But he would support you and wait for you.

Guys I'm not satisfied with Felix's part either, I'm going into a dark place mentally and I can't be happy with anything so please don't be disappointed. I still want to write because tumblr is my happy place.

Seungmin

He introduced you to his parents. They're really nice and loving people and welcomed you with open arms.

"our Seungminnie is in good hands" his mother says complementing you.

You say thank you and shy away behind his arm. Everyone swoons over how cute you are. But you think you messed up. Maybe you were being too weird and didn't leave a good enough impression.

You didn't want any kind of reassurance from him because you think it'll make you seem pathetic so you subconsciously start to distance yourself from him. He'd call you over when the members are out or asleep at the dorms but you'd decline. You wouldn't sit next to him when he'd come over and just spend your time in the kitchen or on your phone. He understood you and knew something was going on. You're at your terrace, letting the cold autumn air tingle your skin when he walks over to you.

"y/n? Is there something you want to talk about?" he says.

"why? what makes you think anything is wrong? I'm completely fine" you reply. You're over explaining, now he's 100% sure something is wrong.

He comes closer to you and holds your hand. "tell me. You know you can talk to me about anything" he says calmly.

After much hesitation you finally tell him "I think I was being stupid at your parents' house, they must think I'm weird" you say looking embarrassed.

"I'm sorry you thought about that. The truth is, my parents loved having you over. My mom wouldn't stop taking about how cute and beautiful you are after you left" he says, grinning.

"really?"

"yeah she wants me to marry you"

Your eyes go wide "she does?"

"yes" he says getting on one knee and opening the small box in his hand. "y/n you make me the happiest, and I've never felt more complete. Will you marry me?"

"yes Seungmin"

Jeongin

You've been warned by his manager to stay away from him because JYP thinks you're bringing him down. He sometimes is late for practice and isn't paying much attention to the choreographer. You argue with the manager at first but he explains how dangerous it is for IN's career. You love him but you don't want to get in the way y of his dreams. He wanted to be a singer and worked way too hard to get where he is today. You aren't just going to let all that go to waste. So you comply and little by little start distancing yourself all the while keeping it cool because none of this is his fault and you can't hurt him.

He doesn't notice, at all. Until one day he starts to wonder why he's second guessing over sending you a text to ask about your day. Things weren't like this between you two. How did this happen?

He texts you and you send a late reply. He can't stop thinking about how things have changed between you two so he personally goes to talk to you.

He's in your apartment and the air is thick and awkward.

"how are you Jeongin" you ask casually.

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"yes" you answer simply.

He can't seem to get comfortable with you like he used to be and can't get you to do the same.

The encounter he had with you made him realize that you two aren't in a relationship any more and you've been treating him like a friend for some time now. He can't do anything about it because he can't get you to talk. And you weren't gonna name his manager.

He has no choice but to accept the way things are.

#stray kids au #stray kids reader #stray kids #stray kids reactions #stray kids seungmin #stray kids lee know #stray kids bang chan #stray kids changbin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids felix #stray kids han #stray kids jeongin #stray kids jisung #stray kids boyfriend #boyfriend! stray kids #stray kids masterlist #kpop reactions #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas-Three

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

Warnings: ANGST on a serious level, physical violence in the form of a vicious bitch slap, language.

Author’s Note: So about 3/4 of this chapter has been re-written. Hope you enjoy!

Time stands still for me. I’m not sure how long I actually stand there in the middle of the kitchen with Chris on his knees in front of me, desperately clinging to me and apologizing with tears running down his cheeks. It’s almost like my brain temporarily shuts down to try and process what happened before coming back online. 

When I finally gather myself, I back away from Chris, breaking his hold on me. There are tears burning in my eyes and I can feel the pizza and wine in my stomach trying to work it’s way right back up my esophagus. Chris takes a step towards me and I instantly put a trembling hand up to stop him. 

“No.”

“Honey, please.....” he tries as he takes a step closer towards me. 

“NO. Don’t.....don’t fucking come near me right now. I can’t......I can’t......” I raise my head and I look at him standing in front of me, and I feel like I’m looking at a complete stranger. My Chris would never do this to me. My Chris was my best friend and my lover and he would NEVER break my heart like this. 

Hot tears flow from my eyes unbidden, and I stifle a sob with the back of my hand. 

There are so many questions that are flying through my head, and so many things I want to say, and all I can do is stand there sobbing, holding onto the counter top for support. 

“Ray, please, baby.....” Chris says, his voice rough and thick with emotion. 

Before I even know what I’ve done, Chris is stumbling back, gasping in surprise and shock, my hand print blooming bright red against the fair skin of his cheek. 

“Don’t you fucking DARE! Do you hear me? Don’t you DARE fucking call me that right now. How could you do this? Can you tell me that? Huh?” 

There’s so much anger and sadness bubbling up out of me that I can barely breathe, not to mention the massive ache in the middle of my chest that makes me wonder if I’m having a heart attack. 

I turn around and wipe my face and try and get my breathing under control. 

It’s because you haven’t gotten pregnant.

He wants a family and you’re obviously not going to give him a baby.

He found someone younger and sexier. Someone with a better body than yours. 

He’s sick of you. Six years was the limit. It was good while it lasted, I guess.

You never really stood a chance anyway. Who were you kidding? There are millions of women that he could have his pick from, and you thought that he was just going to stick with YOU for the rest of his life. Silly rabbit. 

I look out the kitchen window at the snow coming down and blowing across our backyard, and trying to figure out the likelihood of me wrapping my car around a tree if I try and drive in this. At this point, if it’s between that or staying in the same house as my husband who just told me he cheated on me, I’m willing to take my chances with the snow. 

“You need to get away from me. Right now. I don’t want to look at your face.” I tell him, my back still turned to him. 

“Kelly....PLEASE...”

I turn around and it feels like all the energy and fight and will to live just leaves my body in a rush. 

“Chris, if you love me, and you’re truly sorry, get the fuck away from me. I’m saying this for your own personal well being. If I have to be in the same vicinity as you for another minute, one of us isn’t going to make it out alive.”

When Chris finally gets the message that I’m not going to talk OR listen to anything he has to say right now, he finally backs off and leaves the room, looking about as miserable as I feel. 

Everything I thought I knew about my life and my marriage and my husband all came crashing down tonight, and I don’t know where to even begin trying to make sense of it all. All I do know for sure is that I have to get out of here. The one place in the world where I feel absolutely safe and secure and comfortable suddenly feels like a jail cell where the walls are slowly closing in on me. 

Chris is in our bedroom when he hears my car start, and his heart jumps into his throat. With Dodger on his heels, and completely ignoring the need for a coat or boots, he runs out the front door just in time to watch me pull out of the garage and into the street without a single look back. 

The great thing about driving in a snow storm is that there aren’t many other people out on the roads, besides plows and salt trucks. The bad thing is having to put everything else out of my head except keeping laser focus on the road in front of me. Pushing the button on the steering wheel, I call my twin brother Connor.

I almost hesitate, thinking that I shouldn’t be calling so late, and I’m shocked to look at the clock on the dashboard to see that it’s only a little bit after 9pm. I could have sworn that it was so much later than that.

“Hey, I was just thinking about calling you.” he says, bypassing a greeting. 

I take a deep breath, trying to hold in the tears that are threatening to start again. 

“Hey, listen......I need a place to crash for a while.” I tell him. 

He hears a small waver in my voice and it’s like our weird twin bond immediately activates. 

“Are you okay?” 

I choke out a strangled laugh. 

“Not even a little bit. I’m in the car right now. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get to your place.”

“You’re not seriously driving in this, are you?” 

“Yeah. Listen.....I’ll tell you everything when I get there. I just....I couldn’t stay at the house.” I say. 

“Okay. Okay. You know you can stay here as long as you need. Just please, for the love of everything holy, be careful. Get off the phone with me and pay attention to the road. Drive slow.” Connor tells me. 

The drive that normally only takes about 30 minutes takes just over an hour, and by the time I pull in the driveway of Connor’s house, my knuckles are killing me from the death grip that I’ve had on the steering wheel the whole time. 

I see the porch light come on and Connor opens the door, stepping out onto the porch. I grab my small duffel bag from the back of the car and slowly make my way up to the front door. 

“Is Olivia asleep?” I ask. 

“Yeah, she’s down for the count. She’s been playing in the snow practically all day, so she was nice and worn out.” he tells me. 

The thought of my five year old niece being awake and seeing me a mess is the last thing I want. 

Connor leads me into the house and I set my coat and bag down before following him into the kitchen. 

“Is this going to be a beer conversation or a whiskey conversation?” he asks, one hand on the handle of the fridge and one hand on one of the upper cabinets. 

“Chris cheated on me.” 

He whips his head towards me so fast that I hear the bones in his neck crack. 

“Whiskey it is.” he mutters, grabbing the bottle and two glasses. 

He sits down across from me and pours me a glass. 

“Wait. You have to start from the beginning here. What the hell happened?” 

“I came home from the studio and I was sitting in front of the TV with Dodger eating dinner, and he came home and told me that he slept with someone.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Chris loves you. Like, he loves you so much that it’s sickening. Why the hell would he.....” Connor trails off, completely at a loss. 

“I don’t understand this.” he mutters. 

My chest feels like it’s being squeezed from the inside out and I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to stop crying. The image of Chris having sex with some nameless, faceless woman keeps playing in my mind, and I can’t get it to stop. 

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“I don’t understand this. Things were fine. We’re happy........were happy. Everything was fine. Everything was-we were good. I mean, how long has this been going on? Was this the first time? I mean-Jesus. What else is he keeping from me?” I’m rambling at a million miles and hour, hiccuping between the tears, and I’m a mess. 

A thought occurs to me and I look up at my brother. 

“This is my fault.” I whisper.

Connor’s heart breaks and he’s never wanted to punch his brother in law in the face more than he does now. 

“Listen to me right now. This is not your fault. You did nothing wrong. This is completely and totally on him.” 

“But what if......what if he did this because I can’t get pregnant? What if he’s sick of trying with me? What if he doesn’t want to be with a woman who can’t give him kids? It has to be me.” 

“Can I offer you a silver lining?” Connor asks as he pours us another drink.

“How can there possibly be a silver lining to ANY of this? Tell me.” I demand.

“I know this is going to sound shitty, and I really don’t mean it that way, but.....at least you’re not pregnant and having to go through this right now.” 

My heart clenches in my chest at the thought. 

“Cheers to that.”

By the time we hit the bottom of the bottle, it’s almost 3am and I’m well past drunk and basically a complete mess. Connor manages to get me a pillow and a blanket and watches as I pass out on the couch almost instantly.

My first thought when I open my eyes the next morning is that I feel like I’m dying. My head is throbbing, my mouth tastes like a sewer, and the sun is shining brightly into the living room. I manage to sit up on the couch, my stomach rolling and twisting. I can’t seem to cry anymore, but big dry sobs erupt from my chest as I hang my head. Everything is completely upside down and I have no idea how to get control of any of it. Any time I’ve ever been this upset and this lost, Chris has been the one to bring me back to myself and put me back together.

“Aunt Kelly!”

I internally cringe at my niece’s ear splitting enthusiasm so early in the morning, but I wipe my eyes and try and pretend that I hadn’t just been on the verge of losing my shit again only moments before. I hold my arms out for her and she climbs up on the couch with me. 

I pull her into my lap and snuggle her close, almost on the verge of tears again. 

“I missed you!” Olivia tells me. 

I stroke her light brown curls and smile. 

“I just saw you last week, bug.” I remind her. 

“That was too long ago!” she says. 

“Is Uncle Chris here? Did he come with you?” she asks, looking around for him. 

I shake my head. 

Not this time, kiddo. I just wanted to come and visit with you and your dad for a while. I’m feeling kind of sad and I wanted to be around my favorite people.” I explain. 

She seems to accept that and grabs the remote to turn the TV on. 

“Olivia, come and eat your breakfast. Let’s let Aunt K wake up a little bit. She’s not feeling too great right now.” Connor says. 

He gets her set up at the kitchen table with a plate of pancakes and comes to sit down next to me. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Like I want to die.” I tell him honestly. 

“Well, drinking your way to the bottom of a bottle of Jack will do that to you.” 

I lean forward on the couch and press the heels of my palms into my eyes. I have no idea what to do next. I don’t even know what to do in the next 5 minutes. Everything is completely up in the air and it’s terrifying. 

“I don’t know what to do.” I say softly. 

“Well, considering the shit ton of snow that fell last night, and the fact that you’re in no condition to be in public, let alone work, I would suggest calling Allie and telling her not to bother coming in today. Or tomorrow. I don’t think you’d be doing much business right now anyway, to be honest.” Connor tells me.

“Okay.” I agree. 

He slips his arm over my shoulders and pulls me in close to him. 

“Listen, I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head right now, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. You can stay here as long as you need to. If you need to cry or vent, I’m here. If you want me to kill Chris, I’m your guy. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

When I grab my phone, I see that I have 63 missed calls from Chris and 102 text messages. I shake my head, not even ready to deal with any of that, and call Allie to let her know to stay home today and tomorrow. She asks if I’m okay because I sound like I’ve been crying, and I assure her that I’m just fine. 

Using the last of my willpower for the day, I delete all of the messages, clear my call history, and shut off my phone.

P.S. For those wondering about Kelly’s violent reaction to Chris calling her “Ray”, no you’re not missing anything. It’ll all be explained eventually.

Kinktober 2020: @saiyanprincessswanie​ @superquirky-blog

 The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @southerngracela​ @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings​ @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @jessaywahh-blog​@smediumsmeatbae @before-we-get-started​ @lizette50 @littlegasps @rageshots @what-is-your-backupplan-today @clairebubbles

#blue christmas #chris evans #chris evans x wife #chris evans fic #rewrite #new blog #jenn writes #angst #cheating

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Visit

(I found this prompt while cleaning out my inbox and I’m so sorry I missed it the first time, Anon! With more than 150+ messages I am finding all kinds of treasures I missed when they came in!)

Prompt:  "10. True tenderness is silent and can’t be mistaken for anything else" for Chris? <3

CW: Referenced death of whumper, referenced parental death, grief of an abuse survivor/whumpee, religious abuse, frank discussion of death, referenced past child abuse and survivor anger

Essentially a follow-up to this piece after Oliver’s death

Jake borrows Nat’s truck for the trip out to the cemetery, the old stick-shift Ford better able to handle the steep hills outside the city than his own beat-up four door. Chris sits next to him, pale and silent, and it’s a callback to a version of Chris that hasn’t existed in years, not since he was a frightened child.

This is a different kind of silence - heavier, it muffles the music from the radio, makes it seem like static and not songs at all. Jake doesn’t turn it up, or change the channel. He lets the silence draw out.

It’s not the same kind of silence, in the end.

The gates, wrought-iron and looking a mix of delicate and eerily strong, are open for them to drive inside. The rumbling engine of the truck catches the attention of an older woman laying flowers on a gravestone, who looks briefly up at them as they pass, but doesn’t wave.

She only looks.

Chris doesn’t look at her. His hands are folded in his lap, his hair caught low at the nape of his neck, the blue captured by a pale gray clip that holds it back from his face. He asked Jake to get him a suit, for this - he’s never owned one before.

Not since he left the bastard’s house.  

Jake didn’t ask why - he just took Chris shopping, and they bought the suit. It’s black, with thin gray pinstripes that match Chris’s hair clip. His button-up and tie are perfectly done - Chris had done them up himself, the vestiges of training he still remembered. He’s wearing black leather shoes, shined up just for this, and he took out all his earrings, the perfect emptiness of the skin making Jake’s stomach flip at the way Chris has removed nearly all of the ways he made his body his own.

Jake drives around a curve on the little paved road, and finally comes to a stop.

The grave is unmistakable - the dirt is still fresh and soft, and hasn’t fully settled. It’s just... dirt, and behind it a little marker stuck in the ground. A simple name, date of birth, date of death. That’s all. The real stone hasn’t come in yet.

OLIVER WILLIAM BRANCH DOB: 09/09/1966 DOD: 04/02/202X Chris stares at the pile of dirt, and Jake sees his knuckles turn white. He’s not rocking, not tapping, not humming. Just... silent, and still. Like he’s carved from stone.

Statue boy, Chris used to whisper, when he was scared. Be a good boy, statue boys don’t move, stillness is better than what I do, statue boys stay still...

“You-” Jake’s voice cuts into the silence, a knife into skin, and he flinches at the sound of his own voice. He’s just wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and suddenly he wonders if Chris wanted him to wear a suit, too, if he’s disappointed Jake didn’t think of it on his own. “You don’t... have to do this, Chris.” His voice drops, stays lower.

Chris doesn’t look at him, only looks at the grave. His beautiful face is pale, and looks young - more like when he first showed up - and the blue hair suddenly looks wrong, like he shouldn’t have it yet. It should still have its coppery new-penny shine. The roots are hinting, just a little, at the color it used to be. “Yes, I, I, I, I do.”

Jake swallows against a lump in his throat, and slowly nods, turning off the engine and sitting back. The radio continues to play, pulling on battery power, while the two of them look at a pile of soil that covers a dead man whose life is still carved into Chris’s mind. “You want me to get out with you?”

There’s a quiet, as Chris thinks.

Then he whispers, “Please,” as his thin fingers find the handle to the door and open it up. His other hand grips onto the bouquet of roses they’d picked up to bring out here, wrapped in crinkly paper and tied with a thin string.

Immediately, birdsong filters in, intrudes on the silence, demands their attention instead.

Jake is out of the truck in a heartbeat and around to meet Chris as he slowly steps down. He looks like a child dressed for a party, even with a suit carefully chosen to fit. Or maybe Jake just struggles to see him as anything else, in moments like this one.

Chris leans towards him and Jake slides an arm around his shoulders.

He doesn’t regret this man’s death, only that it couldn’t have been half so painful as what the bastard deserved - but Jake keeps that to himself, because he can see the tears standing in Chris’s eyes, and that’s not what Chris needs to hear right now.

Instead, he just says, softly, “I’m here.”

Chris nods, bumping into him once, twice, three times - a reassurance, a reminder. Then he starts to walk, clinging to the roses in his hand, and Jake walks beside him, narrowing his own long strides to match, so he won’t pull away, so they’ll move together.

There’s no one else here, in this part of the cemetery. It’s just the two of them, walking towards the grave marker, the laid-in dirt. Somewhere, six feet down, is the man who once made the width and length of Chris’s world so narrow that it was condensed to a single hallway, a basement, to the shape of tears.

Jake stands slightly back when Chris steps forward on his own. He doesn’t offer platitudes - he can’t hope that Branch is in a better place, he’s still got his fingers crossed that hell is real just so people like Oliver Branch can experience it - he can’t say everything happens for a reason and then ask himself what possible reason there could have been for Chris to lose everything and be given his own hell in return.

He can’t say it’ll get better or time heals all wounds or you’ll find a way to forgive him or God has a plan because Jake has lived with those words branded in his soul from a thousand well-meaning relatives and church people and his mother’s so-called fucking friends and none of those words did shit, they never helped, they only made it clear that no one wanted to sit in silence with the weight of what had happened, only talk over it until Jake and his mom pretended the pain wasn’t there anymore.

No one deserves forgiveness - you make the choice to forgive, and it’s got nothing to do with whether or not anyone deserves it, you forgive for yourself - not for them.

Time didn’t heal shit, and he’s never forgiven the man who nearly killed his mother and would have kept hurting him if he never got bigger, stronger, better able to fight back.

He can’t say God has a plan, because if that’s true, then it’s a shitty fucking plan, isn’t it? To steal a child from the love that should have been the foundation of his life and hand him over to wolves to be devoured instead?

He can’t say any of it, because he doesn’t believe it, and all those well-meaning words are just knives that tear you open and then demand you comfort the people who can’t stand the sight of blood.

All he can do is give Chris his silence and his presence while he watches Chris lay a dozen roses on top of freshly turned earth.

Chris speaks, and his voice carries just enough, and Jake’s jaw sets, trembles, sets again as he pretends not to hear. As he tries, and fails, not to listen.

“I tried,” Chris whispers, in his slow-stone voice, the one he was trained to use, that he can still slide into as easily as he might throw on a shirt in the morning. “I tried... to be, be good, Sir. I was... I was good. I loved you, and... I didn’t... leave because I didn’t love you-... I... I didn’t deserve to be hurt, Sir. But...” He trails off, and Jake forces his gaze to wander.

A bright red cardinal stares back at him from a tree branch nearby, flits away, lands on a different gravestone. Jake stares at it, wondering with a strange unsettled curiosity if it’s the same cardinal, if it followed them out here somehow, but of course that’s... not possible.

There are cardinals everywhere. Cemeteries just make everything seem haunted.

The gravestone the cardinal rests on has been here a while - there’s a single spray of flowers laid on one side, and nothing on the other. It’s one of those double-stones for married people, Jake thinks.

Chris is still talking to Oliver, and Jake forces himself with all his strength not to eavesdrop, just to be here, to be the strength Chris needs. So he stares at the cardinal, and the gravestone.

Each side has a little clear plastic heart, and Jake knows what those are - the gravetones where you can put a photo of the person inside, and see them, and he thinks those are creepy as hell, but... but he can see why you’d buy one.

A woman and a man. Jake squints. They have the same date of death, he thinks, and his heart twists. Car accident, maybe? That sucks. Chris said once that he remembered his parents died.

He wonders who misses these two, who left the flowers.

Life is not forever - but love is. Beloved parents of-

Jake feels Chris press up to him, cold nose against his neck, hitching in sobs that are nearly soundless, gasping for air.

“Do you want me to talk to you about this?” Jake asks, gently.

Chris shakes his head, twisting his fingers into Jake’s shirt, rocking now, for the first time since they left. His voice, broken, starts to hum to try to drown out his own tears, and Jake slides both arms around Chris’s shoulders and holds him tightly.

“D-don’t, don’t talk, don’t-... don’t don’t don’t, I just n-need, I need, I-”

Chris tenses and then lets out a wail, echoing off the trees, soaked up in the ground around them, a half-scream of stifled pain he’s carried since he was seventeen years old.

“Hurts, h-hurts, hurts, it hurts-”

“Sssshhh, I know, I know it hurts, Chris, I know.”

“It hurts!”

Across the cemetery, the old woman doesn’t look up from her careful care of the stone she is tending, giving them space, a kind of tenderness all its own in allowing them their privacy.

Jake just holds on tighter, giving Chris an anchor, a steady presence he can scream into until all the sound is out of him, until the scream is gone.

Then, it’s quiet. They stand, for a while, in silence, other than Chris’s slow avalanche slide into outright weeping for the man who did nothing but try to destroy what spark he had left, and Jake doesn’t say a word.

He’ll probably cry when his abuser finally dies, too. Assuming anyone tells him.

When Chris, red-eyed and sniffling, pulls back to get in the truck, Jake lets him go, climbs into the driver’s seat, and brings the old truck rumbling to life.

Chris’s knuckles are still white, but as they drive around the curve again, he starts to rock, back and forth, back and forth.

When Chris starts humming, Jake turns the music up a little to give him something to hum along to, and Chris flashes him a tear-stained, trembling little smile in gratitude.

A dozen roses in brown paper lay on top of the grave of a man who could never deserve the grief that Chris so freely feels for him.

The cardinal watches them go, and then hops down from the top of the gravestone to peck at birdseed scattered on only one side of the double-stone grave of two people who died on the very same day when Chris was fifteen years old.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp​, @finder-of-rings​, @endless-whump​, @whumpfigure​, @slaintetowhump​, @astrobly​, @newandfiguringitout​, @doveotions​, @pretty-face-breaker​, @boxboysandotherwhump​, @oops-its-whump​ @moose-teeth​

#grief #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #death of whumper #referenced death of whumper #referenced parental death #implied parental death #abuse survivor tw #child abuse reference #referenced child abuse #trauma recovery whump #grieving whumpee #angry caretaker #loving caretaker #caretaker and whumpee #found family #box boy #religious trauma tw

[maroonmorons]

“That’s my baby daddy” please. Thank you 😊 #buddie

I am trying not to tell you (but I want to) [buck/eddie, T, 1.4k]

           “Can youturn around?”

Eddie splutters in disbelief.

           “What? No,I’m not turning around.”

           “Take yourshirt off?” Buck asks hopefully.

           “You’veseen me without my shirt, Buck.”

           “Yeah, andit always makes me feel better. Don’t you want me to feel better?”

The effort Eddie makes to ignore the way his ears areburning with embarrassment is herculean.

             “You’regoing to feel better soon.”

           “And when Ido, I’m gonna leave a negative Google review.”

Eddie smothers a laugh in his palm.

           “On what? Ialready told you, I’m not your nurse.”

           “I’m gonnaleave a negative Google review on your shirt. And I know you’re not my nurse,Eddie,” Buck says, as if Eddie is being particularly slow on the uptake. “Iwould never sexually harass a woman or a man doing their job.”

           “But it’sokay to sexually harass your friends?”

           “We’re justfriends?” Buck questions, his bottom lip trembling.

           “Well…no. Iguess we’re more than friends.”

It wasn’t a lie.

They were partners at work and outside of work Eddie wouldbe lost without him.

When Buck had asked Eddie to pick him up from getting hiswisdom teeth out – Eddie had not expected this.

Still, Eddie doesn’t exactly regret it. Even sitting in thisawful plastic chair.

It’s just that Buck had been so damn cute when heasked.

He explained that he really should have gotten them outyears ago, before he turned twenty, but he never had. Now they were actuallybecoming a problem and crowding the rest of his teeth.

Eddie had made a crack about how big Buck’s mouth was beforeagreeing to it and he’d gotten a soft elbow to the ribs and a pinch to thecheek in rapid succession.

Now though…

           “How’s hedoing?” the nurse asks, poking her head in.

           “He’s fine,”Eddie answers, unable to keep the dryness from his voice.

           “NurseBetty!” Buck cried out in joy.

Eddie winces already preparing for whatever nonsense isgoing to fall out of Buck’s mouth.

Her name wasn’t even Betty. Eddie can’t remember what hername is but it definitely starts with an M.

 “Nurse Betty,” Buck says in what is maybe supposed to be astage whisper, “that’s my baby daddy.”

           “Oh, really?”the nurse asks, playing along as she checks Buck’s vitals.

           “Yeah,”Buck says.

He grins so widely it’s like his whole face is glowing.

           “How manychildren do you have, Mr. Buckley?”

           “Just onefor now,” Buck says, sighing. He leans around the nurse to look at Eddie. “Eds,can we have more babies once I get better?”

Eddie’s sure his face is about to spontaneously combust.

           “Um,” hemanages, “of course, Buck.”

Just play along like the nurse had, right?

           “You mean,”Buck says, his voice sounding suspiciously close to tears then, “you’re notgoing to leave me? You’re gonna wait until I’m better and I can go back towork?”

           “Of courseI am,” Eddie chokes out.

He’s not sure where the vice around his heart came from.

Buck is just high off his ass and spouting nonsense.

           “Why areyou so far away then?” Buck sniffles.

Because I’m not your boyfriend.

           “Let’s letthe nurse do her job first, okay?”

           “Fine,”Buck huffs.

The nurse initials Buck’s chart and turns back to Eddie.

           “We candischarge him in about twenty,” she says with a smile, “then he’s all yours.”

Eddie just smiles back, forcing himself not to respond outloud.

The last thing he needs to do is have Buck sobbing on theirway out.

As the nurse leaves Eddie picks up his chair and drags itover to Buck’s bedside.

           “Feelingokay?” he asks hesitantly.

           “Betternow,” Buck says.

He holds his hand out very obviously.

Wondering if Buck is going to remember any of this, Eddietakes it.

“When can I see Chris? I miss him.”

           “Tomorrow,”Eddie says.

He’s not at all prepared for how quickly Buck’s face falls.

           “Tomorrow?Eddie, why are you mad at me? What did I do?”

           “Cariño,no, I’m not mad at you. We just need to wait for you to get better first, that’sall.”

           “Really?”

           “Yes. Iwould never keep you and Chris separated.”

           “Eddie,”Buck says, “I love you.”

           “I love youtoo, Buck.”

           “When wehave a daughter, can we name her Charlotte? I’ve always loved that name.”

Not knowing what else to say, Eddie lets out a quiet,

           “Okay.”

…

Driving Buck back to his loft went better than Eddie hadexpected.

Buck was continually distracted by things out his window buthe stayed buckled in and mostly kept his hands to himself, that was all thatmattered.

           “Are youhungry?” Eddie asks as he opens the door to let them in.

           “No,” Buckdenies. “Hey, Eds, my mouth feels weird.”

           “Yup, youhad surgery.”

           “Wow, really?I don’t remember that at all.”

Buck makes his way over to the couch and flops down onto itbefore kicking his shoes off.

           “Are yousure you’re not hungry?”

           “Yeah.”

The TV clicks on and Eddie goes to investigate the fridge.

“Eddie, can we order pizza?”

           “Sure,Buck. What do you want on it?”

           “Like…everything.”

Eddie closes the fridge and leans his forehead against it.

Why did he even ask?

…

By the time Eddie’s got Buck tucked in bed he thinks he’sready to sleep for about sixteen hours himself.

Today was exhausting for him.

He tried his best to ignore the stuff Buck was saying but…Well, wasn’t there something to it? Didn’t there have to be?

Eddie shakes his head.

Chances were Buck wouldn’t even remember it.

It was best if he let it go too.

…

Buck is already up and moving around in the kitchen whenEddie wakes the next morning.

Usually when crashing on Buck’s couch he’ll wake up once ortwice during the night but he was out like a light this time.

Eddie stretches out his back and walks into the kitchen.

           “How areyou feeling?”

           “Man, I feelgreat,” Buck grins. He lifts a glass with some green gunk in it andtakes a large sip. “Did you sleep okay?”

           “Yeah, Iguess I was pretty beat.”

Buck visibly hesitates.

           “Did I…sayanything weird yesterday?”

           “You keptcalling the nurse Betty and that was not her name.”

Buck laughs.

           “Alright,that doesn’t sound so bad.”

He lifts his glass to take another sip and Eddie can’t resist–

           “You alsotold her I was your baby daddy and asked if we could have more kids when yougot better.”

The payoff is immediate, Buck chokes and spews his smoothieall over the floor in front of himself.

           “Are youserious?” he demands before using the hem of his shirt to mop at his mouth.

           “Come on,Buck. I wouldn’t make that up.”

           “I wish youwould.”

           “You meanyou don’t want to have kids with me? What about Charlotte?”

Buck groans, his face visibly flushing.

           “God, Ishould have had Maddie pick me up.”

He sets his glass on the island and goes under the sink forpaper towels before returning to clean up his mess.

           “Sorry,”Eddie offers, “couldn’t resist.”

           “Well,sorry I was weird.”

Just that quickly, Eddie feels bad for embarrassing Buck.

           “It, uh, itmeans a lot to me that you think of Chris as your son. I could never ask you todo that…but I didn’t have to.”

           “Hey, Chrisis the best kid I’ve ever met. I would be honored to call him my son.”

           “Maybe wecould start with dinner and a movie, Cariño.”

Eddie had meant it as a joke. At least…he was reasonablysure it was meant to be a joke.

But once the words are out Eddie realizes just how much he’snot joking.

He holds his breath, waiting to see how Buck is going toreact.

           “Ha-ha,Eddie.”

           “I’mserious, Evan. I know you were high yesterday and I shouldn’t take anything yousaid to heart but…how can I not think about it?”

           “You’re mybest friend,” Buck says shallowly. “We work together and Chris… There’s toomany risks, Eddie.”

           “We takerisks every day.”

Eddie takes half a step closer to him.

“I told you yesterday, I’d never keep you away from Chris.No matter what.”

Buck looks down to the paper towels crumpled in his hands.

When he glances back up his blue eyes are suspiciouslyglassy.

           “Can westart with breakfast and Netflix?”

           “Only if youmake me something else to eat.”

#buddie #buddiefic #buck x eddie #prompt #anon #crack #fluff #this hurts my soul but like #like someone is just throwing barbie sized pillows at my heart #I love my kids y'all

[name-me-regret]

If The World Was Ending 5/?

If The World Was Ending Chapter Five: Los Angeles, I’m Yours

Read on AO3.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“I’d like to rest my heavy head tonight On a bed of California stars I’d like to lay my weary bones tonight On a bed of California stars

I’d love to feel Your hand touching mine And tell me why I must keep working on

Yes, I’d give my life To lay my head tonight on a bed Of California stars...”

~California Stars - Billy Bragg and Wilco

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Buck moved with a limp through the beds that were situated outside of the field hospital, the walk from the Cupcakery on Strand all the way to Sawtell had been a long one. The terrain had changed drastically, almost no street signs were up and those that were had been swept far from where they were supposed to be. So, it had taken him at least an hour, possibly two, but he couldn’t be too sure. He’d lost his phone when the first wave had hit and all his focus had been on Chris, first on trying to shield him from the worse of things, and then trying to find him after he’d lost him.

‘I never should have let him go,’ Buck thought desperately, barely paying the rag tied to his arm any mind even when it was completely soaked with his blood by that point. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered expect finding Chris. Because Buck wasn’t sure what he’d do if that little boy... if he was gone. Buck wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

He saw a nurse and his head perked up. “Uh, hey, excuse me,” he said, remembering his manners at the last minute. “I’m-I’m looking for a kid.” His voice was rough and it broke as he spoke, and his head was aching but he had to find Christopher. “Um, he’s got brown hair. Chris-Christopher.”

“Well, I have way too many Christophers on my list. How old?”

“Um, eight... maybe nine,” he said, wincing as he couldn’t remember. His head was starting to hurt even more and he felt like he could collapse at any moment. “His last name is Diaz.”

The woman flipped through the list quickly, but suddenly paused at the third page. “Yes, I have a Christopher Diaz, he’s nine years old.”

Buck felt relief shoot through him so fast that he staggered, the feeling like a physical pain. “Oh, thank God,” he gasped, sounding almost like a sob. “W-where... where is-?”

“Buck?” a familiar voice asked. Buck turned to face Eddie, the man’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what are you doing here?” His eyes locking on the bloody rag wrapped around his right arm. “Are you okay? Wait, where’s Christopher?”

“E-Eddie.. Eddie,” he croaked as he turned to look at his best friend.

“Why do you have his glasses?” Eddie asked, his eyes darkening so they looked more black than brown.

“We um,” he started, wanting to explain. Buck wanted him to understand why he was here but without Chris, even if he’d found him. He’d found him. “M-me and Christopher, we were... at the beach.”

The man was looking at him with eyes already filling with grief and Buck shook his head. “No, listen to me, okay?” The man gave a nod, his eyes already filling with tears. “I lost him...but... but I found him... Eddie, I found him,” he said, voice desperately hopeful as he motioned toward the nurse with the clipboard. He was quickly losing his grip with consciousness, the day’s stress and the blood loss starting to catch up with him, and the all encompassing relief that he’d finally finally found Christopher.

Eddie looked at the woman, moving forward and momentarily forgetting that Buck was hurt. He needed to see about his son. As the nurse pointed where Eddie had to go, Buck could only watch as he rushed away and he sighed with a smile.

In the next second he collapsed, and with no one to catch him, he crumpled to the unforgiving ground.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Tony landed on the suit on the roof before he stepped out of it and put it in sentry mode, instructing JARVIS to fly the suit back to Malibu when he confirmed that Buck was there and it was alright that he stay. It was almost midnight when he found his door, knocking on it. There was no answer after the second and then the third round of knocking, and now Tony was starting to worry.

He pulled up his phone and tried dialing his number, but it went straight to voicemail, and grew frustrated. Tony knew it wasn’t exactly legal to ping his phone, but he needed to locate Evan, hoping the man hadn’t done something reckless; like go help when he knew he had a serious blood clot condition. Even then, there was no explanation as to why he couldn’t get his location, because his apartment was out of the flood zone so there was no way for his phone to be damaged.

The man took a deep breath to keep the panic at bay, and then raced back up to the roof as he started pulling up Buck’s Facebook and Instagram accounts. It felt like a cold hand had clamped over his heart when he saw a picture from early this morning of Buck and a very familiar brown haired boy with the location as the Santa Monica Pier; half an hour before the tsunami had hit.

Tony practically threw himself into the suit, blasting up into the air. “J, check the hospitals for an Evan Buckley.” He knew that he’d left Christopher at the VA hospital in Sawtell, and cursed at not having recognized the kid when he’d picked him up earlier. If... Evan was alive (he had to be), and having been separated from the kid meant that he’d be looking for him.

The billionaire knew that Evan had always loved kids, always had card tricks for the few kids that came with their parents to charity events. Evan would make them laugh, showing them his card tricks or telling them jokes; away from their parent’s stern gazes that always told them ‘children are to be seen and not heard’. However, Evan had believed that children should be safe and happy, and he was always overjoyed to give them those secret moments filled with smiles and laughter.

So, Tony knew that Evan would look for that little boy with everything he had. He would search until he had no more strength left in his body, and without regard for his own safety. This made his worry very real, since Evan was on blood-thinners and a deep enough cut might be fatal to him.

He had to find him quickly, and was praying he wasn’t too late. “Evan, you fool,” he growled.

“Sir, there is no answer at any hopsital, and most of the patient and DOA lists haven’t been digitized as of yet.” The last part had Tony feeling cold, thinking that Evan’s name could possibly be on that list. Tony discarded that thought immediately, and instead concentrated on finding Evan, or else he was going to lose his goddamn mind.

His first stop was to go to the field hospital, hoping that maybe Evan had thought to look for Chris there. Perhaps his father had found him and knew something about the blonde man. He wanted to maybe ask his firehouse, but he didn’t remember at the moment what it was, too exhausted and panicked to think straight.

“J, pull up Evan’s file from the LAFD,” he told him. Of course he’d made a copy, since he didn’t want to go back and risk being caught hacking the LAFD again. He was sure he’d get a slap on the wrist, but it was the principle of the thing. Tony Stark did not get caught hacking, he was better than that.

He let JARVIS take control of the armor as he viewed the file, and was surprised when he saw that he was a member of the 118. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. That meant that he’d been working and helping Evan’s firehouse this whole time and hadn’t even known it. That Bobby Nash was his fire captain.

His eyebrows furrowed. That meant that Chris was one of his friend’s kid. He quickly pulled up his Instagram again and went a few posts back, almost a week ago and the picture of Evan, Chris and Eddie... Eddie Diaz. Well, this was going to be awkward when he met the man again.

Tony pushed all these thoughts to the side and brought his attention to needing to locate the 118. When he’d last seen them they had been going to drop of patients, and since the rest of the hospitals were overrun with victims, that meant the VA hospital on Sawtell. It seemed to all line up and he hoped that’s where Evan ended up as well. As he flew overhead, he saw the mail trucks being unloaded of patients.

Almost every head lifted as he came for a landing, hearing several people calling out to him; either with exclamations of gratitude or people that demanded why he hadn’t been fast enough to save their loved ones. Tony wasn’t angry, since he knew they were grieving. Honestly, he wished he could have been fast enough to save more people, but he was just one person. Even with nine extra suits to help him, he just hadn’t been enough to save everyone.

The Iron Man pilot spotted Bobby Nash right away, the man immediately moving toward him. Tony was relieved when he saw Diaz with a familiar little boy in his arms, Christopher. He wasn’t as dirty as he’d left him earlier in the day, and someone had even changed his clothes. “Tony,” the older man greeted him. “Is there something I can do for you?”

His lips twitched as Tony stepped out of the Iron Man armor and he seemed to realize he was several inches taller than the superhero. Tony would have normally gotten annoyed that he’d forgotten his lifts, but he had more pressing matters at the moment.

“Captain Nash, I’m looking for a... friend, and you might be able to help me.”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed in an expression of confusion. “I don’t know how I could,” he started.

“Evan Buckley,”he said before he could say anything else. “I’m pretty sure he’s in your firehouse?”-

#Evan Buckley #Tony Stark #Eddie Diaz #Bobby Nash #Chimney Han #Hen Wilson #9-1-1 #9-1-1 Fox #Iron Man #Marvel Cinematic Universe #The Avengers #Marvel #If The World Was Ending #Crossing The Divide series #regret writes #regret fanfiction #myfanfiction #Crossover fanfiction #Buddie #Buddie (eventually) #maybe #Evan Buckley x Tony Stark #Past Evan Buckley/Abby Clark #Past Tony Stark x Pepper Potts #Past Tony Stark x Evan Buckley #Past Evan Buckley x Abby Clark #eddie diaz x evan buckley #Evan Buckley/Tony Stark

[charmisticdisappointment]

A Special New Year. Chapter 5 : Are you the One?

Hey guys!

Here's Part 5 of pure Chris Evans Fluff!

Please ignore the writing in this one. Something I had randomly written few years ago!

Please note that none of pictures used in this are mine and credit goes to the respective creators!

Hope you all are safe and enjoy this!

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The past few days have been a dream. You and Chris have been hanging out a lot more than anyone imagined. Things were moving so quickly. Chris was more welcome at your home than you yourself :P. You were once running a little late to go out for a movie with Chris cause you ended up burning the shirt you were ironing while Chris waited in the living room talking to everyone like he'd known them for ages. Pulling your hair into a rough pony you ran into the living room to find no Chris. To your surprise Chris along with your mom and sister-in-law were in the kitchen, baking.

"Hey" you said walking in as Chris pulled out the cake your mom was baking out of the oven. "Cream Cheese or Buttercream frosting?" he asked while the three stared at you. "Hmm whipped cream!", you said as they laughed at you. "I told you she'll say whipped cream" your mom commented as she pulled out a bowl to work on the icing. "Yes you did" said Chris extending his arm and pulling you close. You didn't go to the movies that day. While your mom whipped the cream Chris offered to make mulled wine for all. "You sure you don't want to go to the movies?", you asked. "Nope. I'm craving cake and mulled wine", he said making everyone laugh as he started cutting into fresh oranges while you helped him gather all the spices.

You shared this unexplainable comfort with him. Curled up to him on the sofa in the living room, digging into the banana cake and drinking mulled wine, while your parents narrated all the embarrassing stories from my childhood seeming to quite enjoy themselves was a first in many years. You often checked on him, assuring him that he didn't have to spend time with your family because they asked and can say 'No' when he wants to. But he genuinely wanted to stay.

Your niece was growing very fond of him. She'd share random secrets from  school, about you and sometimes funny details of your brother with Chris. And Chris was so good with kids. Every time he'd come home to pick you up while going anywhere, he'd make sure to get a hug from your niece cause as they both air quoted, "It's essential!".

Once Chris planned a surprise trip to the park with just the kids. You had such a fun time preparing the snacks and picking out emergency supplies. By emergency supplies Chris meant more snacks. All the snacks in the world were never enough! You didn't expect it to be such a fun day. You thought you and Chris would have to be more like nannies than a fun aunt and uncle but you were so wrong. The whole ride to the park, Chris and the kids sang along to Disney tunes. It was adorable. Once you reached the park, you found a quiet spot in the shade and laid out the blanket as all the kids jumped in. It always took time for kids to get used to you, you never knew why but kids were always scared of you. But that changed that day. Chris' niece and nephews seemed to like you a lot, informing you of everything in the park. Chris' nephew Miles would run up to you every five minutes and give you updates "I saw a bird", "Can I take home the branches I collect", "Can I have more cake" and when he tripped he came running asking for a hug. Chris was quick to take his phone and capture the moment as Miles sobbed hugging you tight. "He's in love with you" he said making you smile. 

Soon the kids got tired and came to lie down. Funnily everyone wanted to lay down on your lap, including the biggest baby of all, Chris. After a bit of a cuddle battle between the kids and Chris, they made a master strategy to get Chris to lay on your lap and the kids to lay on his, that way they'd get the best of both of you. Though there was immense fault in their logic you adored them all. Enjoying the cool breeze, their chatter was soon replaced by slight snores.  

**Something like the image below. Pearson's Fam!**

To your surprise, the biggest baby was taking a quick snooze too. You bent down and kissed him on the forehead which woke him up and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Its getting dark Chris. We better head home. I'm going to wake these little tots up before their in a deep slumber or else we'd have to carry them all!" you said caressing his cheek.

"I want more evenings like this" Chris thought out loud bringing a wide smile to your face.

"Me too" you whispered pinching his cheeks. "But now, we got to head home".

He slowly waked the kids who were clearly unhappy about it. Soon you packed up, and picked up Miles who demanded to be carried to the car in his cute voice, while Chris carried the girls who immediately went back to sleep on his shoulders. Placing them all in the car was a task even for Captain America. But you both succeeded.

Chris carried your niece to the door since your hands were full with the picnic basket.

"Thanks for planning the picnic today Chris. I really had a lot of fun!", you said as your brother opened the door.

"Fast asleep is she?" your brother asked as he carried her into the house.

Once your brother left you two alone Chris replied, "I promise we'll have many more".

Y/N : "I'm holding onto that promise!".

All of a sudden Chris confessed.

C : "I love you"

Y/N : "I'm sorry what?"

C : "I love you! I can't believe I waited this long but I'm in love with you!"

Time froze as you looked into his glistening eyes.

C : "Y/N..?"

Y/N : "I love you too!" you said in lightening speed.

C : "I'm sorry what was that?" he joked laughing like the happiest man on earth.

Y/N : "I said I loved you, you dork" you said laughing.

Chris quickly pulled you in for a kiss.

C : "You think it's too soon?"

Y/N : "The only thing I think is life's too short. And I love you"

You said pulling him in for another kiss. You immediately heard a loud "Ewww!!! I don't wike it!!!" from the car and you both didn't have to look to know who that was.

"Alright Alright Miles!" Chris said laughing as he hugged you a goodbye and walked towards the car. You waved them goodbye as Chris drove out of sight. However you had a small knot in your stomach, not the good kind. You didn't know why you felt this way after such an amazing day.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you were clean and changed into comfortable pyjamas, you headed to your mom's room who was intently reading something sitting on the bed. You got on bed and rested your head on her lap. She immediately put her book away and asked how your day was. You didn't seem the notice the change in your voice while you told her everything.

"Y/N, is something wrong?", your mother asked.

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

" Of course dear. Anything".

"Well I have this feeling about..."

And before you could complete. "About Chris. About whether you two are taking it too fast, whether he's the one for for you and all those questions which are clouding this little head?" she asked. "Did I nail it?", your mom asks smiling at you. She just did.

"Mom I'm just so confused. I just told him life is short and I loved him but is it really possible to fall in love with a man in just a few months. I haven't been in any relationship for the past many years and out of now where Chris comes and changes everything", you say with tears in your eyes.

Your mom pulls you up and gets you to sit, grabs your hand and says " You've always been scared of relationships Y/N. Let me tell you something about love. It doesn't knock often. But when it does you got to let it in. Chris is an amazing guy. Trust me. We moms always know. Its our super power. Your dad has a good feeling about him too!"

"We just have our families involved too deep. I know everyone at home have grown fond of him, especially my little niece who can't seem to keep any of my secrets!" you said laughing as you sob. "I just don't want us to end badly hurting everyone in that process!".

Your mom wiped off the tears and went on to say, "You and Chris remind me of your dad and I. We were practically strangers three months before we got married, and I haven't regretted it a bit. Well sometimes when he doesn't fix the sink" she said making you laugh. "But what we found was too precious to let these doubts, which even I had and I'm sure your dad had too back then, get in the way. I don't think you'll end badly. For all I care I know you'll be very happy with Chris and Chris will be equally happy with you."

You sighed disbelievingly.

"Oh stop it. Don't think I haven't noticed how Chris looks at you while you're talking about things as boring as Artificial Intelligence!"

"AI is not boring!"

"To me it is. Don't interrupt me. And young lady, I've also noticed how you look at him when he plays around and hugs the kids, or talks about politics which you hate. I've seen you both. I know what you both have is worth fighting for and holding on to. Just let your heart make the decisions this time will you?"

"I will" . "And Mom....I'm in love with Chris", you said smiling like an idiot.

Your mom sighed. "I knew it from the day he came home to pick you up for your final dance lesson and pulled you into his arms", she said pulling you into a hug.

As you walked out of your mom's room, you texted Chris. "You're the one." 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you all enjoyed it!

30 Days of Chris : @jtargaryen18​

#cevans #chrisevans #chris evans x reader #chrisevansimagine #chrisevansfluff #proposal #i dont wike it #iloveyou #chris evans x y/n #30daysofchris2020

[paulieshore]

The Dynamic Duo

Characters: MC, Gavin, Minor, Victor (Mentions: Anna and Willow)

Words: 1903

Warnings: Minor threats

 Part Three: Respect

Parting from the boys just moments ago, you didn’t know what to expect … Being honest to yourself you knew you had to get it over with. Gavin and Minor gave you a pep talk before entering the building, telling you to keep your cool and call them later. Grateful was the very least you felt for those two guys, especially Minor lately. He was really stepping up in and around the company. 

You entered the elevator of LFG, every time you’ve ever been in here seemed like a life time to get to where you needed, tonight though felt the fastest its ever gone. All but dragging your feet towards Victors office, scarcely anyone was left in the enterprise... Checking your watch, nearly 9pm. Gosh, usually you were home in your pyjamas by now, instead you’re standing infront of Victors door. Holding your breath, you knock...

tap - tap - tap

“Come in”

Pressing down the handle you enter slowly, Victor still staring at the file in hand waves you forward. You approach cautiously, considering how things were earlier you decided to wait until he spoke to you.

Just standing there… 

Minutes went by before Victor set down his file, looking to you, “Well, I suppose if you’re not going to talk then ill start. Today’s events were chaotic, unacceptable, and unprofessional. For that, I’m Sorry.”

It hadn’t quite registered with you yet, blankly staring at Victor.

He raises his brow, “It seems perhaps an apology isn’t enough to excuse myself for earlier, I’ll buy dinner. Have you eaten? Right before i forget, your subordinate, what’s his name? The one who clearly doesn’t care if he still has a job tomorrow?” Victor asks nonchalantly.

Speechless, you just sort of shook your head at him. You envisioned this conversation to go quite the opposite direction, this moment of reprieve swelled up something from deep within.

“You’re angry with me, right? I jumped to conclusions and…”

“Stop.” Finally speaking… “I don’t want your apology.”

Victor’s eyes widened.

“You ridiculed me in-front of my staff and guests, you didn’t even try to understand the situation I was in. I came here terrified of what was going to unfold but none the less ready for it… And y-you act as if nothing has happened? I don’t want dinner with you, what I want is ……. I want respect.” The tears that threatened you today were back again, this time falling down your face.

It was obvious seeing you cry unsettled Victor; he rose from his chair and in the very same moment you took a step back. Silence engulfed his office, all of today's emotions began exploding inside of you. You choked back desperately not to sob in-front of your boss, bringing your head down, you turned and started to leave.

“Mc...” The moment Victor opened his mouth, your feet took off on their own accord. 

You managed to get inside the elevator moments before he did, doors closing on the sight of him reaching out to you. “Wait!?”

.

After the doors shut, you immediately pull out your phone and sent a text to Victor - Please excuse me, I’m exhausted, lets reschedule - *Thinking, I was just demanding respect then ran away like a child. *

Stopping the elevator couple floors from the lobby, taking the stairs the rest of the way down, the objective was to avoid Victor. You were NOT ready for this, you felt compromised with emotions. Peaking around the corner, it seemed safe and you made quick steps to the exit. 

.

.

Meanwhile, Victor just stared at the text he received. Sitting on the floor of the second elevator, seeing you cry was like a blow to his heart. Once today you teared up in front of him, he took it too far then before your employee stepped in …

Perhaps that’s why…

It was rare for Victor to feel remorseful.

.

.

Gavin was just picking up take out when he got the call from you. Instantly taking to air when he heard your shaky voice, when he landed again it was only couple yards from where you stood. He could see that you were crying, “Didn’t go so well did it?” Wiping the remanent of what tears that still stained your cheeks.

“I didn’t stay calm Gavin, maybe I am not cut out to do this.” Avoiding eye contact, you stared at your feet. You called him to talk, not expecting him minutes later to be right there. Typical Gavin you thought, smiling inwards at the thought.

In that moment you were embraced into warm arms and a solid chest, “I don’t know a thing about producing but your amazing Mc, truly. You’ve never been a quitter, so don’t give up now.” His voice was soft like faux fur.

Your senses were heightened, you felt extremely warm, and smelled - noodles?? This caused your stomach to growl loudly. Staring doe eyed at Gavin when he released you.

Laughing, “Hungry huh? Good thing I always pick up food for two then.” Showing you the take out bag.

.

.

Next day, you woke up and started getting ready. This afternoon you had a meeting scheduled with Barner Wors heads, trying to figure out compensation for both sides during this halt. Gavin was going to continue his investigation with Minor, today Minor was off. You asked Minor last night to assist him, which he was more then thrilled to help ‘his boy’ on his day off.

.

.

When Gavin awoke from his little cat nap (sleep was something he barely got these days) he was receiving a call from the department. The call was brief, files were being emailed to him whilst he took the call, turns out his intuition was paying off. Just as he was reading through Nicole Kissman’s file, his phone began to ring again - Minor. He wanted to decline the call but considering that you seemed at peace with Minor helping him, he notioned; keeping Minor close may help in some way.

“Hey”

“GAVVVVVVVV- BRO, Chris – The lead for the show is in hospital! I just got a text from my friend, whose cousin texted her, whose roommate called him, that apparently spotted Mr. Heartthrob being taken in by ambulance!” Minor screaming into Gavin’s ear.

“And??”

“AND!! I decided to come to the hospital to check myself, AND INDEED HE’S HERE! Now I came incognito and decided to snoop around, there saying food poisoning. Now I’m no expert but! I did some digging on Chris; he’s a vegan, man don’t eat no meat, however! I was able to get hold of his papers by the desk and get this, his co star the one and only Madam Kissman stated after eating a hamburger he just got sick. Now correct me if I’m wrong but, he’s a vegan and food poisoning doesn’t take affect that quickly!” Minor was practically gasping for air after that explanation.

Silence followed, the only thing heard was Minor dying on one end and Gavin letting out a slight hmmm on the other.

“Nice one Minor, get out of there and meet me out front.” Gavin hung up the phone, the plot was thickening. If his police training and investigation films taught him anything, it was actors will sometimes do whatever it takes to shine.

.

.

You were just entering your company doors when Anna frantically came running to you with news, about the actor Chris.

 Food poisoning, oh dear… 

This joint production really was becoming a series of unfortunate events, you thought. Then Anna handed you a letter, normally you had a team that look after this sort of stuff. After examining the front of the envelop you knew why. In big black bold letters ‘TO BE HANDLED BY MC’, okay? You made your way to your office quickly running Anna up to speed of everything and having her make notes for preparations of this afternoons meeting. Sitting in your desk mid-sentence; you froze, you had opened the envelope and glanced at the contents inside…

Images of your outside apartment caught you off guard. Anna noticed something the matter so she peaks over and was too shocked by the findings. Your hands began to shake as you flipped through the photos, one photo in particular had writing on the back of it.

It read….

We know where you live. If you love your job, and do not want more ‘unfortunate’ things to happen and ruin your ‘reputation’ - drop the case.

Or else.

The picture after the note was an image of your company, completely scribbled out. So much that the pen used left deep in-grooves and in some areas punctured right through. A shiver went straight up your spine, Anna spoke up, “this isn’t just a coincidence anymore. Someone is playing seriously dirty...”

All you could do is nod your head…

What do you do?

You stared at Anna, neither of you spoke, till Willow burst through the doors.

“Victor is downstairs!!!”

The day was just beginning and already you wanted to go home. You sent Gavin a quick text ‘SOS office ASAP’ and stood up. Fixing your skirt, you took a deep breath; tucking the photos away in your top drawer.  You raised your chin up, and made your way to meet Victor. Considering your demand for respect yesterday, you had to be respectful.

You had a lot of crap on your plate, and Victor was one of them.

.

.

Gavin arrived at the hospital and seen Minor, oh dear god is that what he meant by ‘incognito’ he wondered.

Minor stood at the bottom of the entrance stairs leaning against the rail. He was wearing a backwards pink hat and dark sunglasses. If that wasn’t enough, he had on the biggest yellow sweater I swear he could find; that read ‘Bronies’ on the front of it. The tightest white jeans known to man, and a tooth pick sticking out of his mouth. Gavin was stunned stupid; Minor was one to easily annoy him back in school, and even now he still had that gift.

“Minor…. You have about three seconds to sort yourself out, before I knock you out!”

Minor didn’t notice when Gavin appeared, nearly falling over at his aggressive demeaner. “Bro, respect! It’s my disguise yo, can’t have people snitchin’ who I am. Don’t need boss stressin’ even more if my covers blown yo!”

Gavin rubbed his temples, reminding himself, ‘don’t hit him, don’t hit him’ before speaking. “First off, I’m not your ‘bro’. Secondly, stop talking like that. Third, you look like a walking highlighter. You’re not blending in; you stick out like a sore thumb. If I didn’t know you, and I saw someone dressed like you; snooping round my hospital.. Attention is exactly what you’re going to get and not in the good way!”

“Alright, alright, alright…. Man can’t a bro catch a break, I’m trying here!” Minor takes off the sunglasses and fixes the hat.

“Minor, the more you try the worse you get. Just relax, or it’ll be you next; checking in.” Gavin signals Minor to walk with him as he enters the hospital doors. Before pointing out, “and for the record, stealing other people’s information in the hospital is invasion of privacy. That’s breaking the law, you could be done for that.”

Minor grins at Gavin, “Yea but, I was incognito. No one knows it was me!”

It took everything in Gavin not to knock him out at this point, they’re both trying to help MC he repeated again and again...

To Be Continued 

Master-list for Parts

#mr love queen's choice #mr love gavin #mr love victor #mr love minor #mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc minor #dynamic duo #walking highlighter #incognito #respect #minor just wants love #hes trying #part three #love and producer

[arigatouiris]

out of my league // t. h — 02

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; eventual fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: If Tom seems a bit out of character here, I apologize. This is after all, my first time writing for him, and it’s all based other fanfiction I’ve read about him or how I see him on screen. Do let me know what you think, it’d be great if some of you had pointers! 

Also, the story does start out a bit slow in the beginning, but trust me, there’s a lot of stuff that’s going to happen that can potentially make things very, very interesting. So hoping to see your reactions~

Thanks for all the love and support, darlings~ 

Word count: 2845 

Series Masterlist

 01 | 02 | 03 |

Ch. 02

At times when (y/n) was not critiquing, she found herself buried in books. She would never call herself an avid reader because she was working most of the time, and for her, reading to write a review didn’t come under reading for fun. 

     It had been close to a year since she had read anything that she didn’t have to critique, and for the first time, she felt a tad bit cheerful for it. It was a book called The Girl Who Fell From The Sky, and narratives such as these always caught her eye. However, this wasn’t how it used to be. Things before never phased her when she was buried into a book; she could man any distraction and not let it come between her mystic connection with the book she held in her hands. However, now, being an adult changed everything.

    (y/n) found it hard to maintain concentration—this didn’t mean that the book wasn’t interesting; she found it interesting enough, though, whenever her phone went off for a notification, her eyes would instantly lift off the page and land on her phone. 

The hate mail fell in number, but they came nonetheless. While some were personal, others were not too fond of her physique and mannerisms on social media. (y/n) had to shut down and deactivate Facebook, Instagram, and didn’t bother to even check Twitter after the fiasco. It had been three days since her break and last conversation with Mr. Holland, after which he hadn’t tried contacting her or approaching her for another apology.

But, these days, journalists made sure that the shelf life for any news story lasts longer than it intentionally was supposed to last. It wasn’t as if they had something against (y/n), it was simply them doing their jobs, and making sure they get enough viewership and interaction with the audience as possible. And here, in London, people loved the best Spiderman, and people loved the man who played the tragic character, Lionel—Tom Holland. 

And even if (y/n) never personally attacked Tom, and attacked instead a writer who was always constantly attacked by even the most amateur of critics, news channels made sure to squeeze as much juice out of this story—(y/n)—as possible.

    And this meant going through her critiquing history.

That Wednesday night, (y/n) remembered watching Love, Actually for the thousandth time, alone in her little cozy home, ignoring the rain outside during the monsoons that pervaded London. After the movie ended, teary eyed for being the secret romantic that she was, (y/n) swiped across random channels until her eyes fell on a picture of herself on television. Immediately, she checked the time. It was over 9 o’ clock. It was prime time. She was doomed.

How am I not off the news yet? Really? They’re going to punish me for doing my job? The tears, they fell now because of the news and not Hugh Grant’s handsomeness. Covering her mouth with both hands, she watched in shock as Jenny began to narrate another story of hers. A story she hadn’t thought was serious.

    “Turns out that our favourite critic,” Jenny gestured sarcastically, “had also gotten into a small duel with another actor before Tom.”

    “That did not happen.” (y/n) whispered, grimacing at the screen.

    “Apparently, after having viewed the hit movie, Do You Remember Us? starring Chris Evans, (y/n) had written a nasty review about the direction of the movie!”

(y/n) groaned. Chris was such a sweetheart, she remembered fondly. He even made a statement on the internet saying how much he liked the review and how he understands the displeasure several fans felt with the way the film was directed. 

     Slow and neat in the first half and rushed toward the end—forcing an exit for the character in the movie, which wasn’t called for in the slightest. But, journalists never pay heed to comments that could lighten the bruise on the person in question. It was almost as if news channels were bullying her for being a critic, and perhaps, it was because she had made so many others in the past very unhappy for the reviews she had written.

    She knew when she got into this job that it wasn’t appreciated by several artists. Years and years put into bettering her best, (y/n)’s words were considered truth almost, for how raw and real her critiquing style was. She made it a point to talk about good things and bad things in every movie or TV show or book she criticized, and criticizing never meant just saying bad things. 

Movie directors would often appreciate her good reviews and saw that more people turned up to their films after the review was published. And even if she had written a disappointing review, (y/n) always made it a point to never badmouth any artist—it was their hard work at the end of the day. A vision that they saw, which perhaps didn’t deliver in the best way for the audience. And this is no one’s fault. Rushed or otherwise, (y/n) ensured that her reviews, bad or good, would talk about the importance of art as a whole.

But, all of that didn’t matter right then. She was hated because Tom Holland “hated” her review and didn’t agree with her. No other celebrity had ensued a statement for her review in such a way before, not directly at least. Displeased writers or directors would contact her personally and ask for an explanation, which she would handle very professionally.

     If only Tom had contacted her—not that he had any right to since there was nothing bad written about her in that review. If only he had read the entire review, he could have seen how (y/n) had mentioned some of the key writing skills that Jean did possess.

She stood up immediately, with a newfound confidence. Heading to the kitchen counter, this decision of hers that popped up out of nowhere, had in fact, come from one place—loneliness and sadness; the two often came together, and weren’t good influences. 

     Picking up the bottle of wine carefully, (y/n) didn’t bother about taking a glass out. The wine bottle had already been opened the night she had written the review, it needn’t be poured into the glass at the moment. I don’t care anymore, she thought before gulping down a mouthful of the red wine, which stung the back of her throat the second it was swallowed. She was never really too much of a drinker, but the night called for it. Turning off the television, (y/n) decided to drink with the quiet tune of her raging thoughts.

    It took five such gulps and fifteen more minutes for her to officially fall under the dangerous level of intoxication. She was giggling at nothing now, teary eyed for reasons that all fell under moronic during normal circumstances. Intoxication had its own way of letting you know how alone you are in the world; of how to doubt your choices, and how to not be proud of them. 

These thoughts came slowly and almost hesitantly, but when they came, it was as if they were welcome.

Her phone rang, but she didn’t pick the call. She thought of Jean, and she thought of how she wanted to call him up—she had his contact from a few earlier reviews, all of which were not so pleasant—and she thought of demanding an explanation. She thought of Susannah, of how she once thought of her manager as the nicest person on the planet, but was someone who only cared first for the firm and (y/n) came slowly following behind like a lost puppy. 

     She thought of all the years of hard work she had put to come to a position where writing those reviews made her money. She worked as a reporter, and on the desk, and almost everywhere and overtime to get to this spot—and it was snatched from her for simply doing her job.

    And she thought of Tom Holland. The attractive and kind actor, whose performance as Spiderman in the Avengers series tore a hole in her heart. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when Peter Parker faded into dust in Tony’s arms. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when he was brought back, again in Tony’s arms. She thought of all the nice things she had written about Tom, the bubbling little high school girl crush that was dormant inside of her led to further disappointment since it was the very same Tom that had taken her hard work away.

As if it were a reverie, drunk (y/n) noticed her phone ringing at last. Trudging toward her device, she saw that the caller ID wasn’t visible. And just as she was about to pick the call, the call ended. In her intoxicated state, she checked how many times this person had called her—there were four missed calls. Blinking a couple of times, and before she lay her phone back on the couch, it rang again. This time, she picked. And this time, she didn’t care if she sounded drunk.

    “Who is it~?” Her voice was sing song.

There was shuffling on the other side, and no answer.

    “Are you... another journalist? Calling to get a note from me for the review I wrote—”She was hiccuping now. “I’m sorry, so yeah. Where was I?” She giggled after this sentence.

It was as if the person on the other end was simply waiting. (y/n) took this as a positive for her questions.

    “I knew it! Okay, okay, okay. Whaddaya wanna know?” She dragged the ‘o’ at the end of her question.

    “I didn’t even write anything bad about Tom… Did you guys even—”Hiccup. “—read the review? Don’t my old reviews count anymore?” She dragged the ‘ore’ at the end of her question. “I wrote such nice things for Tom before! Even on here! I can’t believe he made that satement, oops. I meant, statement. Sorry.”

There was still no voice on the other end.

    “I just did my job, really.” Her voice was low now and perhaps, the intoxication had reached the level of sadness, which allowed her to cry. “I don’t want to be hated on like this.. I pretend as if those words don’t hurt me, but they do!” She dragged the ‘oo’ in the end of her sentence.

    “I’m sorry.” Came a voice that she couldn’t recognize.

    “You have nothing to be sorry for, journalist.” She said, smiling wide, tears falling down her cheeks.

When the call ended, (y/n) decided she had had enough. Going to bed seemed the only viable option, after having such an intense conversation with a stranger.

    “Is something the matter?” Harry asked, staring at his brother.

    “Yeah, your face is funny.” Sam said, grinning.

Tom looked up at his brother with a straight face.

    “I meant, you look very sad over somethin’. Is everything alright?”

Tom sighed. It was the kind of sigh you sigh when something is so wrong and you blame nothing but yourself for leading it there. Harry and Sam looked at each other before looking back at their brother. Tessa was asleep next to Tom, and if she could talk, maybe she’d know what was up in Tom’s mind.

    I feel so bad for her, Tom thought, recalling the conversation (or the lack thereof) he had with (y/n) over call a couple of hours ago. She was quite obviously drunk, another fact he felt terrible for. Tom was quite an observant person, and he could hear it in her tone how sad she actually was. 

As if a shock came over his body, Tom quickly opened his phone and browsed for her reviews—the ones she had written on Spiderman and Avengers; the ones she had mentioned were nice.

    Tom felt worse for not having read them before. She had written descriptively on how well thought out the movie was, and had even mentioned Tom’s improvisation at the end (the scene where he said he didn’t want to go, as Tony Stark held him in his hands). He sighed once more, the same distressed sigh, and rubbed his hand under his jaw. 

     He had called to apologize, having seen her in the news. It was the first time he had seen her face, (e/c) eyes and a nice smile, her hair neat and kempt. Another failed apology, he thought before laying back on the couch.

The next morning, Tom called her first thing, during his morning run. For a second he thought maybe it was too early and that she might still be asleep, but when she picked the call, he felt his heart skyrocket.

    “Hi, I called you last night—”

    “That was you?!” She didn’t sound pleased.

Tom chuckled nervously.

    “Oh my God, you heard me when I was drunk? Couldn’t you have stopped me! This is so embarrassing!”

    “No, no! I didn’t mind! I mean—” Shit, what am I saying? “I meant, I can understand. You don’t have to feel embarrassed—”

    “Mr. Holland, I did not want to cry out my sorrows to you when I was intoxicated. You could have at least let me know that it was you on the other end. What was that?!”

Tom was quiet. He knew he had stressed her out, but now he genuinely wanted to help. He stayed up almost half the night reading so many of her reviews, seeing how she had never insulted a single artist or writer for their art, but only criticized the story. Tom, who had no idea how critiques were written or what thought went into it (and had only believed it was saying bad things, honestly), had finally learned that there was more to criticising than met the eye. (y/n) was a hard working woman, and Tom had somehow made things quite difficult for her.

    “Listen, (y/n), can I call you that?”

There was no response. Perhaps, she had understood that he had something to say, and was allowing him the chance to speak.

    “(y/n), I really want to apologize for what happened. I made a mistake and reacted hastily. I’m going to make things right, but I want to run it by you once before I do it. Please let me apologize to you properly over coffee? I insist—”

    “I already told you, Tom,” his heart beat faster at the way she said his name. It made him feel terrible. Her talking reminded him of his guilt. “I don’t want to meet you for coffee, and if I can recall, I asked you to leave me be.”

    “Yes! Yes, you did. But, listen, I just feel so terrible—Oh my God.”

What Tom saw was a bunch of photographers heading his way. Recognizing him was fairly easy, and because he was on call, he had forgotten to take the path that could have avoided the early morning paparazzi that was waiting for him at the “posh” end of town. Tom groaned before turning around hastily and making a run for it, looking like a complete fool for doing so the way he did, but there was no other faster reaction his brain offered.

    “Hello?” (y/n) was growing impatient.

    “I really have to call you back, (y/n), I am so sorry—”

    “Don’t call me back. Good day, Mr. Holland.”

And there goes another wasted effort for an apology.

Tom didn’t call her back. Not like she expected him to, she had made things too hard for him to apologize. She half expected him to tell one of his friends about how he’s tried so hard to apologize and how she’s being so hard on him—and this invariably getting on the news as well, garnering more hate for her. 

     (y/n) licked her lips before putting on a white baggy sweater. She sat at the edge of her bed and brought her legs up and folded them under her, before grabbing the book she was reading earlier. Just as she read a sentence, her house bell rang.

    “Coming!” She called out, before stopping midway.

What if they’re journalists? It couldn’t have been hard for them to find out where I live, her heart was beating at 300 mph at the moment with the mere thought that it could be reporters at her doorstep. She didn’t have the heart nor the energy to deal with any other person at the moment. Her heart had already been damaged way too much.

    The bell rang once more, and her heart along with it.

(y/n) cursed loudly for not having a peephole through which she could have seen who was on the other side. She had to open the door before finding out who was on the other side. Shutting her eyes and quickly muttering a prayer to who knows what, (y/n) opened the door.

And the shocked face she made perhaps didn’t startle Tom as much as his awkwardly smiling face startled her.

series taglist: 

@strangemaximoff​​, @aestheticgaybish​, @noobmaster63​​, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay​​, @wonders-of-the-multiverse​​, @boushalaivre​​, @jackiehollanderr​​, @nerdypisces160​​, @yourwonderbelle​, @quackson606​, @stickyqueenbouquetsstuff

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom hollander #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you

[welllpthisishappening]

I feel like I should tell you that second last bullet point about PK and Matt made me cry immediately wow the emotions Laura

Hellooooooo anon. I AM HERE TO FORCE MY HOCKEY DOG EMOTIONS ON YOU, IN A WAY THAT SOUNDS FAR LESS THREATENING THAN THAT. Here are some more emotions that got decidedly more emotional as I wrote them. 

Age update because there are words here: Matt just got drafted. So he’s almost 21, Peggy is 17 closing in on 18 and Chris is 11. This is a few months after Getting in the Shooting Lanes and goes along with this post about the dog Will and Belle adopt. His name is PK. That story is here. 

I’ve got no excuse for this except how often Tyler Seguin posts about his dogs. Also, like, how much I want Chris Jones to be certain his older brother is the best player in the entire NHL ever. Alright, let’s get emotional:

“So, uh, Mom, you think you’re ever going to stop crying, or, like…what’s the deal?”

Emma glanced down, narrowing her eyes slightly at the smiling kid in front of her – decked in head to toe Rangers team apparel and that was actually pretty impressive because she could not begin to fathom where he got shoes with the appropriate color scheme.

Chris smiled, rocking back on the heels of those same shoes and he spent far too much time wth far too many professional athletes. It was doing wonders for his self-confidence. And, now, there was one more professional athlete to contend with.

Emma was never going to stop crying.

“That’s not an answer, you know,” Chris pointed out, hooking his thumb through the loop in his jeans and most of them had changed at some point between landing at JFK and finding their way back uptown and none of them had really slept. They were a whirlwind of brand-new jerseys that looked oddly familiar because they still said Jones above the number twenty and that was, at least, seventy-six percent of the reason Emma couldn’t stop crying, and there were FaceTime calls to be made and Roland Locksley actually screaming in Philadelphia  and Elsa nearly sobbing in Colorado and they should all probably eat something.

Emma couldn’t remember the last time they ate something.

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are, kid,” Emma muttered, tugging on the front of Chris’ shirt. He did something ridiculous with his eyebrows.

“And you’re going to set a record for crying in a single day.”

Emma inhaled, something potentially maternal and possibly a bit like grounding on the tip of her tongue, but the eleven-year-old in front of her had grown up far too much in the last few weeks, ankle a normal size again, and he’d spent most of those same few weeks reading any draft information he could find.

He regularly printed out reports that Matt was going to go anywhere except second overall to the Rangers, just so he could crumple them up and dramatically throw them into the corner of the room. Killian found a small mountain of them a few days ago. He made Chris take them out.

And then discussed draft options with Chris for several hours after.

Emma scowled when her kid didn’t stop smirking at her, lips twisted and eyebrows still just as high. She inhaled again, another quick pull of air through her teeth as several voices came from the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” she admitted, and Chris didn’t argue when she pulled him against her side, lips on the top of his hair and the very likely misplaced effort to keep him eleven for the rest of his life.

She was crying again.

“Although Aunt Elsa may give you a run for your money,” Chris added.

“That was just because she saw Dad crying.”

“Dad cried?”

“Oh definitely.”

Chris was silent for a moment, and for half a second Emma felt something dangerously close to terror slink down her spine, a cold rush of worry that landed in the pit of her stomach with an almost audible thump. She swallowed, licking her lips and willing her pulse to stay relatively human. It had been through enough already in the last twenty-four hours.

And she absolutely, positively was not prepared for the sniffle she heard.

Emma twisted on this spot, nearly losing her balance in the process, but Chris’ teeth were digging into his lower lip and he looked a little wobbly himself, eyes squeezed closed and shoulders shifting and—

“Kid,” Emma snapped, crouching in front of him and that was a mistake because he towered over her now. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter? Is this a hunger thing?”

“I’m not an actual baby anymore, Mom, I’m not crying because I’m hungry.”

“Then…”

Chris clicked his tongue, exhaling with a put-upon sound that made him look far older than Emma ever wanted. That felt selfish. But one kid had already gotten drafted that night and the other was getting ready for college and she really had no idea why they’d agreed to come back to Will and Belle’s apartment.

Maybe they had food.

She couldn’t remember if they had food home. Probably not. They’d been far too preoccupied with draft stock and a whole week of prep in Chicago and picking out color-coordinated ties.

“He’s totally going to wreck in the league,” Chris mumbled, eyes still closed, but pointed towards his feet anyway and Emma’s heart could not cope with this. Her whole being could not cope with this. “Just like…he’s probably going to set some kind of rookie scoring record.”

“I think they may have him play in the AHL for awhile.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve seen how fast Matt is, right? We’re desperate for that kind of speed.”

“We?”

Chris’ eyes all but flew open – probably so they could get them as wide as humanly possible when he realized what he said. “Ah, that’s how it works or something, right? Even without my own speed.”

Emma swallowed, not sure she could actually voice the myriad of increasingly sentimental nonsense sitting in the back of her throat and she nearly fell over when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Matt was still wearing the jersey they’d  made him put on when they called his name, but there was an actual name on the back now and he smiled at his brother when he met his gaze.

“Keep using the collective pronoun, C,” Matt said. “But Mom may be right about the AHL. We’ll see how camp goes.”

Chris rolled his eyes. They were getting as good a workout as Emma’s pulse. “Are you serious?” he scoffed, and there were more footsteps and she didn’t even have to look up when Killian moved next to her.

“That’s usually how it works, kid,” Killian reasoned.

“You didn’t play in the AHL.”

“Ah, well, he’s got you on that one,” Emma muttered, glancing up and Killian’s smirk was a bit more fine-tuned than either one of their kids. They’d get there. Probably. They were all far too competitive not to.

“If this is about MD playing in the Garden on opening night, then I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Peggy shouted from the kitchen. She was probably sitting on the counter. Emma was almost surprised there was a plaque there, designating it as Margaret Elsa Jones’ space and solely for Margaret Elsa Jones.

Matt clicked his tongue. “Wow, that’s actually kind of rough, Mar.”

“And not true,” Chris added. “You seen our centermen? Their face-off percentage is the worst.”

“I mean not the worst,” Killian shrugged. “It got better last season.”

“Dad. It’s not good. It’s not totally your fault, you’re not a centermen. But I bet Matt could help out.”

“Wow, thanks for that incredible vote of confidence, C,” Matt mumbled, the smile still on his face when he tugged Chris towards him. “Although he’s right about that face-off percentage, Dad. Embarrassing.”

Killian groaned, holding out a hand for Emma and she didn’t quite stumble into his side, but it was awfully close and she’d blame the whole thing on dehydration via crying. So, naturally, there was something else to cry about immediately.

And maybe the real reason they’d come back to Will and Belle’s apartment.

Matt made a noise that somewhere closer to a yelp of excitement than anything else, Peggy all but leaping out of the kitchen and sprinting towards the living room, somehow sliding into both of her brothers when her socks proved unable to provide any traffic on the hardwood floor.

“Ah, of course,” Killian mumbled, mostly into Emma’s hair when his mouth landed there and her vision was already starting to swim in front of her eyes.

And, really, she should have known from the very beginning because, really, they’d been with that dog from the very beginning and Emma was almost surprised Roland didn’t demand to be put on this FaceTime phone call too. He and Matt regularly argued over who was PK’s favorite.

It might have been Chris.

“It’s definitely Chris,” Killian muttered. He winked when Emma gaped at him.

“God, you’re the only reason Chris thinks he’s as funny as he’s absolutely not. Why are you a mindreader?”

“You’re not very good at disguising your emotions when you’re weeping them out, love.”

“Oh, shut up. You could use some eye drops too.”

He didn’t quite blush, but the tips of his ears went read, eyebrows twisted and another kiss pressed to her temple. “I wouldn’t say no, honestly.”

“You guys are missing this moment,” Will announced, perched on the arm of his couch with his fingers wrapped around Belle’s shoulder and Matt was kneeling on the floor in the first Rangers jersey that was his, making faces at a dog that had been as much a part of his childhood as anything.

Emma was seriously never going to stop crying.

“Make sure you get the good angles,” Belle laughed, and Chris hummed in response, a phone in his hand and a smile on his face. “That way we get all the likes.”

“Ah, we’re going to get all the likes, aren’t we?” Matt asked, an absurd twist of facial expressions at a dog who was drifting very close to ancient, but still managed to get down the hallway when he realized the Jones Line had come to visit.

“This is honestly the best part of the weekend,” Peggy announced. “Way better than those facts we learned about Chicago.”

Kilian groaned. “You appreciated those facts. You had no idea the world’s first skyscraper was built in Chicago.”

“Somehow I feel like I’d have gotten by without this information.”

“But now you know and you can brag about it.”

“When would that ever come up?”

“Make it happen, Margaret.”

“Oh my God.”

Emma laughed, burrowing her head into Killian’s chest and that was a mistake because Belle mentioned angles again and Matt was still making faces when she looked up, mumbling a string of barely understandable words to a dog who absolutely could not hear him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Matt laughed. He was on his stomach now, sprawled out across the floor without a single care to what it was doing to his jersey. “Listen, PK, listen, listen, I’ve got exciting news, man.”

PK barked in response.

“Yeah, that’s right. Listen, hey, remember when we were kids and we made Rol practice that one wrist shot and then you showed up and made sure we could get the puck back? Well, it totally worked, PK because I got drafted.”

Another bark.

And several sniffles.

A world record for crying. Right there in Belle and Will’s apartment.

“He’s going to get called up by Thanksgiving,” Chris announced, eyes flashing back to Emma and Killian like either of them would be wiling to contradict him. “I’ll bet you guys Matt’s signing bonus.”

“No deal,” Matt grinned. He hadn’t gotten off the floor yet, but no one told him to move and Chris handed Emma the phone so she could actually hit upload when all three Jones kids moved to brush their fingers over PK’s back.

“Thanksgiving,” Chris repeated. “At the latest.”

The video got an absolutely ridiculous amount of hits, Roland leaving several caps lock comments about MISSING OUT and, three days before Thanksgiving, with the Rangers playing in Vancouver, Emma’s phone rang – “Mom,” Matt said, and she could hear the giddy sound his voice, the way it managed to crack on three letters and one word and all that meaning. She sat down.

They almost missed puck drop, calling in every favor from every single person they knew and Graham met them at the airport, ignoring several laws on both sides of the border to get them there on time and Emma cried again.

So did Killian. So did Peggy. It made the phone in her hand shake.

Chris didn’t. He smiled.

“Told you.”

#cs ff #captain swan #laura rambles #blue line rambles #blue line one shots #WOW HERE ARE SOME EMOTIONS ANON #can you tell how much i want a dog #this family is so stupid #they all love each other so much

[my-emotional-self]

The Bodyguard (AU! Chris Evans x Reader)

Pairings: AU!Bodyguard Chris x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Fluff

Request: Ah if you have time could you do an angsty to fluffy thing with Chris Evans as your bodyguard? Like wut this is wrong wrong but you’re in danger and why didn’t I tell you I love you?

Requested By: Anonymous

Chris’ P.O.V

I loved her.  That much I know was true; truer than anything I could believe.  Being her bodyguard gave me a sense of ease at night, knowing that I was the one to protect her.  Knowing that I would be the one to save her when she needed it, and lately she did need it.

I wanted to break his neck when I found out.  Her trashy boyfriend cheated on her and she found out from her one of her friends. Turns out, her best friend and her boyfriend were fucking behind her back for months while she was on tour. To make matters worse, she went out to the clubs almost every night now that her tour was done.  She was supposed to take a month or two off, and then start writing her new album.  But she was becoming reckless, and I wanted to save her.  

Y/N P.O.V

You got dressed in your sparkling tight thigh length dress, taking a few shots before you headed to the club to meet your friend.  Chris, your bodyguard was waiting for you in the living room; dressed all in black. You snuck a peak at him, your mouth watering from his bulging biceps.

Chris had been there for you, not just as your bodyguard, but as your friend when you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you with your best friend.  He was your shoulder to cry on, he was there to pick you up.  You found him very attractive to say the least and he was good to you.  But you saw the movie ‘The Bodyguard’ too many times as you cried yourself to sleep.  You didn’t want your heart to break any more than it already did.  So you decided not to act on those feelings.

“I’m ready” you said cheerily as you met Chris in the living room.  He looked you up and down, taking in your appearance before huffing out in annoyance.  

“The club, again Y/N?” he asked gravely as he folded his arms across his chest.  “This is the third time this week.  Why don’t you stay in tonight, have the girls over here for a quiet night in?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, baffled by what he just said.  You were going through a bad breakup and going out, drinking and dancing was just what you wanted to get over your asshole ex.  

Marching over to him, you stood in front of him.  “Listen up Chris” you said while pointing at his chest, “I pay you to protect me, not to care for my well-being.”  You were seething, angry that he seemed annoyed at his job; your two shots already hitting you and making you stagger on your tall heels.  

His hands shot out to your waist, catching you before you fell.  “You ok?” he asked concerned, his eyes softening.

“I’m fine.  Now lets go please.”

The car ride was silent as you looked out the window; mentally scolding yourself for behaving that way towards Chris.  He was your bodyguard, but he had been your rock for you over the last month.  

Pulling up the club, he opened your door and held you close as he walked you inside.  You went straight to the VIP area where you met your girlfriends; squeals of laughter coming from all around you.  Chris stationed himself right at the VIP entrance.

The drinks were flowing and you kept sneaking glances over at Chris.  Feelings were stirring deep in your bones each time you saw him.  He looked so regal, so elegant and poised as the stood there, ready to fight anyone that tried to hurt you.  You didn’t want to act on those feelings; but a part of you kept nagging you, telling you to do so; that in the end, it would be the right thing to do.  

“Lets go dancing!” one of your girlfriends said, breaking you from your thoughts as you cheered in joy. You took her hand as you made your way to the dance floor; the beat of the music vibrating your body from the deep bass.  

You shimmied your hips to the music, feeling free as you laughed with your friends.  Every now and then, you glanced up to Chris; his eyes always on you, always on high alert.  It was like an adrenaline rush knowing that he was always watching you. Taking your lower lip between your teeth, you started to dance more seductively, keeping your eyes locked onto his.  

Your body started to heat up with excitement as his eyes narrowed in on you.  But something felt different, off somewhat and Chris’ eyes looked behind you before his jaw clenched.  He immediately darted in your direction just as you felt a pair of hands on your hips, pulling you backwards as breath hit your ear.  

“Hello Y/N, you’re looking lovely as ever” his voice resonated in your ears and you immediately tried to pull away.  It was your asshole cheating ex.  You gripped his fingers and tried to pry him off of you but it was no use.  He was bigger, and much stronger than you.  

“Don’t touch me” you growled as you kept trying to wiggle away.  

“Oh come on.  Don’t be like that.  I know you miss my touch” he declared as he gripped your ass in his hands causing you to yelp.  

In a flash, Chris was in front of you; his eyes murderously glaring at your ex.  “Take your fucking hands off her” he demanded with authority.

“Oh please, what are you going to do about it?”

Chris’ face changed from scowl, to ‘oh really’ and in the blink of an eye, he punched your ex as he landed with a thud on the ground.  Chris gripped your hand and led you out of the club; his purse already secured in his other hand.  

He helped you into the car before he sped off towards your house.  You sobbed the whole way; hating the fact that he touched you again.  You had never wanted to see him for the rest of your life and then he just showed up, thinking you would take him back.  

You were a mess; Chris unbuckled your seatbelt and took you into his arms, carrying you into the house and setting you on the couch.  You blurry vision saw him pacing around the living room in front of you; his hands balled into fists at his side.  

“Damnit Y/N.  I told you not to go out tonight.  I had a feeling something was going to happen” he growled as he continued to pace.  

He was right; you should have listened to him.  But all you were concerned about was drowning your problems with booze, trying to forget the last few years of your life.  You felt a rush of air hit you and you opened your eyes again; Chris kneeling right in front of you, close enough that you could smell his minty breath.  

“I love you Y/N.  And I don’t care if it’s wrong because I’m your bodyguard.  I’ve been falling in love with you more and more each day and it’s killing me to see you hurt like this.”

His words hit you with force and you simply forgot to breathe.  Your lips parted, wanting to say something but nothing came out. Without thinking, you gripped his face and pulled him towards you, staking claim on his lips.  His lips were soft, warm, and his kiss was delicious.  You bit down on his lower lip, nibbling it gently making him moan.  

Pulling away, you looked into his eyes lovingly.  Now that you knew how he felt, you didn’t have to hide your feelings anymore.  With a bright smile, you brought his lips back to yours with another savory kiss.    

Tag List: @princess-evans-addict @potterhead1265 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @miss-cap21 @missfirstavenger @zohoffman @pumbibaby @@kanupps06 @wildestdreamsrps @remember-that-one-blog @the-real-kellymonster @guera31 @01asianista @hispeculiartreasure @libbitinasdeath @projectxhappiness @marvelmakeuplover @srgntjbarnes @mustbenot

#Chris Evans x Reader #Chris Evans Imagine #Chris Evans Angst #Chris Evans Fluff #Chris Evans One-Shot #Chris Evans Fanfic #Chris Evans Fanfiction #Chris Evans

[i-write-about-anything]

Momma’s Boy Part 13

Prompt: A witch turns Liam into a toddler causing the reader and Scott to take care of him. (Requested)

Pairing: Liam Dunbar x Reader (platonic) , Scott McCall x Reader

Parts

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

Reader’s POV

After spending four more hours at Scott’s old home it was time for us to leave. Liam had woken up only two hours before, he apologized to the younger kid he pushed and he played with them until he fell and scraped his knee. He didn’t cry until he saw the small drops of blood but Scott took him into his arms and almost instantly he calmed down. He had been in Melissa’s arms when we were ready to leave. “You better bring him more ofter.” Melissa spoke to me. “Both of them.” I laughed as she handed Liam to me. 

“Trust me, I will.” Liam pouted as I looked at him. “What’s wrong?” He looked at Scott who was hugging his smaller cousins goodbye and I sighed. 

“My daddy.” Liam pouted even more and I couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Yes, he’s your daddy, but he can play with other kids too, especially his family.” Melissa smiled at me and patted my back.

“You’re way better at this than I was.” I laugh as she looks at Scott. “He’s even better than I thought he would be. Guess I have to give Chris those ten dollars after all.” She laughed and I shook my head. 

“Did you really think he was going to be that bad?” I look at Scott as he tickles the young kids. “I always knew he was going to be good with kids, I never thought he’d be better than me.” I sigh and Melissa giggled.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to want the break, trust me. This little guy is a handful, just like his father.” She nodded towards Scott before ruffling Liam’s hair. 

“Hey, you ready?” Scott spoke as he walked to us and almost immediately Liam shoved his arms at his direction. Scott took him into his arms and smiled at his mom before we said our goodbyes for the twentieth time. When we got back to out house Liam had already been asleep in his carseat so Scott carried him up to his room. I followed behind with Liam’s backpack in my arms, when Scott laid him down on his new crib his eyes immediately opened and he frowned. 

“Hey, you’re okay.” I smiled down at him as he sat up. 

“Sleep with you?” He spoke as he rubbed his eyes and I shook my head. 

“No honey, you have to start sleeping in your own bed.” He stuck his bottom lip out and I looked at Scott who shook his head. I wasn’t as strong as he was and I wasn’t scared to admit it, I'd do anything for Liam and I couldn’t stand to see his little pout. He let himself fall on the crib and he started crying and I sighed as I went through his backpack to pull out his small lion. “Do you want simba?” As soon as I said it he shot his hands up into the air. I giggled lightly before I gave him the lion and he cuddled it to his small body. His cries didn’t stop and I sighed once more looking at Scott. 

“Wait here.” Scott smiled before leaving the room and I looked at Liam grabbing his small hand in mine rubbing small circles onto it. 

“Please mommy.” He sobbed as he wiped the tears out of his eyes. Before I could say anything Scott’s guitar could be heard from the doorway and I immediately looked back at him as he walked towards the crib. Liam’s cries stopped as he looked at Scott’s guitar and I smiled. 

“Sing.” Scott spoke softly and I bit my lip before I started singing. Liam’s sobs came to and end when he stuck his thumb into his mouth and closed his eyes. He hugged his little lion close to him as Scott joined in singing softly I smiled at him once we finished and I looked at Liam sleeping face.

“Goodnight buddy.” Scott spoke before ruffling his hair softly. I gave him a small kiss on the cheek and he stirred lightly before both Scott and I walked quickly out of the room and into our own bedroom.  “You’re something else, you know that?” I smile at him as I throw my body on the bed sighing when I feel my back on the mattress. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He chuckled as he took me into his arms. 

“You’re better at this than I am.” He laughed and kissed my forehead. 

“Baby, I'm only good at this because I'm copying the stuff I see you do, I don’t think I'd be able to do this without you.” He smiled and so did I. We stayed up an hour just talking about the way today went and how we’d need to teach Liam how to play with other kids. 

________________

The next morning I was surprised to find Liam already awake. As soon as I went into his room he looked at me and picked his arms up. Within the next three hours that we had been awake the pack had come over demanding a beach day. We hadn’t been to the beach in over a year so I wasn’t about to protest, plus with all the shit going on, I was ready for a break. Scott and I had been in the kitchen preparing some sandwiches for the day while Liam played with the rest of the pack, mostly Corey and Mason. Lydia and Malia had gone to the supermarket to get Liam some stuff he needed in order to be able to go to the beach. Stiles had been playing with his phone on the couch not caring about the shouting toddler around. “Corey!” Liam yelled all around the house and I smiled as he was getting along with them. Liam ran into the kitchen and fell on the floor when he bumped into an invisible Corey. “No fair.” Liam crossed his arms and pouted. I was prepared for him to cry but Mason was quick to move towards him.  “Hey, it’s okay, how about you and Corey hide and I'll come looking for you?” Mason spoke and Liam nodded. Mason walked out of the kitchen as Corey looked at Liam. 

“Give me your hand.” He stuck his hand out to Liam and he looked at me. 

“It’s okay.” I smiled and Liam hesitantly took it. They both disappeared into thin air and reappeared in a matter of seconds. 

“Again again.” Liam smiled clapping his hands and Corey laughed as he did again only they didn't appear again. 

“They’re getting along.” Scott spoke as he handed me a plate. 

“Yeah, I'm glad, he should really get along with kids his age though.” I raise my eyebrows and he chuckled. 

“Boo!” I heard Liam’s voice before I saw him and I dropped the plate in fear. 

“Holy shit.” I grabbed my chest and Corey bit his lip as Liam looked at me with a frown on his face before running away. My heart was pounding faster than it ever had and I couldn’t help but laugh when I realized how scared I got over a simple scare. I walked over to the living room with Scott looking for Liam to see if he was fine and apologize for my foul language. We were surprised to find him sitting at the bottom of the steps with his head hung low. 

“Liam.” Scott spoke as we both squatted down to his level. 

“I’m sorry.” He pouted and I was surprised to see him here after what had just happened. 

“Honey, why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault.” He looked up at me and his eyes were glossy. “It’s mine, I shouldn’t have used a bad word, and it was me that dropped the plate.” I smiled at him and he looked at Scott. 

“Promise you not mad?” He pouted and I couldn’t help but to take him into my arms. 

“We promise sweetie.” I kissed his head and he giggled. 

“Mommy was scared.” I laughed and shook my head. 

“In my defense you did come out of no where.” Scott laughed and I couldn’t help but love this moment. 

“Why don’t you go play with your blocks, yeah?” Scott smiled at him and he nodded as he ran to the blocks in the living room. “Watch him, will you?” Scott spoke to Stiles who nodded and gave Scott a thumbs up. When we walked back into the kitchen I was surprised to see the plate had already been picked up. 

“I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” Corey spoke and I smiled. 

“Don’t even worry about it, Liam is finally getting to know you guys better, that’s all I could ask for.” I smiled and so did he. 

“Stiles, look.” I heard Liam’s small voice from the living room and not even thirty seconds later I heard blocks tumbling to the ground and Liam’s loud cry. Scott and I rushed to the living room to see Stiles dropping a block on the ground before giving us a small wave. 

“What did you do?” I crossed my arms as Scott picked Liam up. 

“He knocked it down.” Liam sobbed out pointing at the blocks on the ground. 

“Oh come on, I was just trying to help.” He spoke mostly to Liam. 

“It’s fine, come on, let’s build it again, yeah?” Scott spoke and Liam looked at Stiles who just huffed. 

“Stiles time out.” Liam sobbed pointing at the step and wiping his eyes with his hands. 

“Yeah, no.” Stiles chuckled and I gave him a glare. 

“Go sit on the bottom step.” I pointed to the step and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” I gave him another glare and he sighed. He went to sit down on the step and Liam giggled while Scott and him sat on the floor. “This is stupid, I'm a grown man.” Stiles spoke.

“A grown man? Stiles you act more like Liam’s are than Liam does.” Scott spoke and I looked at Liam who stuck his tongue out at Stiles. 

“He’s such a devil.” Stiles spoke and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

_________

After spending another hour waiting for Malia and Lydia to come back from the supermarket we were finally on the way to the beach. Stiles followed in his Jeep which we protested he didn't take as it wasn’t very secure. But Stiles being Stiles wanted to prove everyone wrong. The beach was quite a drive and we had never taken Liam more than a twenty minute drive anywhere which is probably why he had gotten car sick and thrown up all over himself. This had been a long day already and it was barely beginning. 

__________

tags; @queen–glitch @kelz1978 @standallsunshine @bouquetoftacos @veteranwerewolf95 @crazy-fangirl25 @dakotapaigelove

#liam dunbar #liam dunbar imagine #liam dunbar x reader #liam dunbar fanfiction #scott mccall #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf masterlist #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #malia tate #kira yukimura #allison argent #issac lahey #peter hale #derek hale #brett talbot #hayden romero #jackson whittemore #chris argent #melissa mccall #theo raeken

[avaalons]

Chris Evans Fic: Beard & Glasses & Pushed Back Hair (Young and in Love Part 1)

All parts to this series:

Young & in Love

Part 1: Beard & Glasses & Pushed Back Hair

Part 2: At Some Point

Part 3: The Dogs Aren’t Allowed Upstairs

Part 4: His Girls Episode 1

Part 5: His Girls Episode 2

It's a sexytime fic! A smut! I've actually not written one in years so, you know, be gentle with me (that line does not feature any where in this fic, don't worry). It is 100% based on THAT Esquire photo, damn him to hell!

I guess don't read if you don't like explicit, NC-17, 18-rated fiction?

Summary: Reader arrives home, tipsy from a girly night out to find Chris working away. He's actually had the audacity to lie around, looking all super sexy with his glasses, his beard, and all his hair pushed back. How very dare he! There's only one thing for it really

***

You'd been so, so quiet when you arrived home. Practically a ninja. So silent and sneaky that he didn't even realise you'd been stood staring at him from the doorway for a good ten minutes. Fuck, he was so incredibly sexy. Sometimes, if you concentrated on it too much, it took your breath away. Like, Chris Evans shouldn't actually be allowed to exist, shouldn't be allowed to roam the earth looking the way be does, surely?

And right at this very second, you were barely able to resist pulling your lower lip into your mouth in anticipation. You were stood with your weight on one leg as you leaned against the door frame, the other crossed over it firmly as you let yourself take in that rugged beard, the thick rimmed glasses, the pushed back hair and furrowed brow, deep in concentration.

He was working, you could tell that much; book in one hand, pencil in the other. You watched as his absent-mindedly twirled and twiddled the pencil back and forth through his fingers, the repetition almost mesmerising. An assortment of hardbacks and notebooks lay spread on the bed in front of him as he was lounging back on the pillows, torso propped up by one elbow. You so badly wanted to climb over it all and make that forehead crinkle for an entirely different reason. However, you were also aware that he'd probably taken advantage of the fact you were out with friends for the night and could have a couple of hours to himself to get some work done. So you simply stood and stared and tried not to sigh with contentment too loudly.

Eventually, a gruff voice broke your reverie, 'Are you going to stand there all night?'

His gaze hadn't even left the page and he just knew you were there. The sound of his voice was doing nothing to quell the tingling now stretching from neck to your toes. You could almost feel the rough drag of his beard across your skin, and he hadn't even looked at you yet, let alone touched you.

'I - I didn't want to disturb you,' you weren't prepared to speak, only to look and appreciate. Silently. Very, very silently.

Chris glanced your way then, still holding the book and pencil, with an amused smile dancing against his lips, 'Maybe, sweetheart, you should have thought of that before you fell in the door, threw your heels down the hallway and then pinball-bounced your way up the stairs. But nice try, I appreciate the thought.'

'You knew I was here the whole time??'

'Must be my incredible senses. Did you have a fun night?'

'Yep,' you grinned, recalling the lines and lines of cocktails on various bars, 'Had a great time. Danced a bit.'

'Only a bit?' One eyebrow twitched up. Seriously, even that was sexy. Damn him.

'Okay, a lot. Feet pretty sore. No boys though,' you were baiting him.

'I should hope not. Glad you had a good time. Why didn't you call? I'd have come and picked you up.' The book and pencil had been laid down now. Hopefully for good.

'S'okay, I got a lift off one of the girls' boyfriends. They were heading this direction anyway.'

'Hmm,' was the only response you got as his eyes drifted appreciatively over your body through those damn glasses. You felt like you were swaying a little, despite the support of the door frame, and under his gaze, you felt hot all over. There wasn't a ton of material in your dress anyway but all of a sudden, it felt like there was a whole lot less.

'Chris...' you were practically squirming. You were sure that static was crackling in the air, jumping the distance between this fucking Adonis and you, his goddess.

'So, are you sleepy drunk or-' 

'No,' you cut him off without a moment's hesitation, 'Not sleepy. Not at all.' 

'Good, that's what I was hoping for.' 

He didn't move, and neither did you, but you could feel your breathing become erratic and your pulse pounding in your ears. That last Prosecco cocktail had your nerve endings standing to attention. Then, like a moth to a flame (you were, apparently, too drunk to think up similes that weren't total cliches) you began to take tentative steps towards him. And he simply watched you. 

'I think I'm going to need help getting this dress off. The zip is a bit awkward.' 

Chris closed up all of his books and set them on his bedside table, laying the pencil on top. He tried to be nonchalant about it but the haphazard pile gave him away. He rose from your bed to meet you as you gathered your loose hair in one hand to reveal the zip tracing your spine. You turned your back on him and you instantly felt his warm hand on your upper back, undoing the zipper painfully slowly. The exposure of your overheated skin in the cool air made goosebumps appear all over you, and these only intensified when you felt the tickle of beard and the gentle press of soft lips where your zipper ended at the small of your back. He must have crouched down. 

Strong, confident fingers slid under the tight hem of your dress, exploring the tops of your thighs and pushing the material higher and higher. You could feel the tension in it relax when it was pushed up and over your butt, gathered and resting on the tops of your hips. 

'Fuck. Me.' 

You heard him curse softly under his breath but you bit back the obvious response. He dropped a kiss against one butt cheek before he turned you around. Your fingers instinctively laced themselves through his hair. He looked up at you with something like awe in his expression, 'You went out without underwear on?' 

'Everything I tried made my dress look weird so I went without in the end,' you shrugged sheepishly, gently and affectionately raking his hair, then dropped your voice to a faux-conspiratorial whisper, the buzz of alcohol making you bold, 'D'ya want to know something though?' 

'Go on,' he replied, humouring you. 

'I thought about you tonight. A lot actually.' 

'You did? And what would have you thinking of me when you're out drinking and dancing with your friends?' 

 'Every time we went to a new place and we were waiting at the bar to be served, I imagined that you showed up and were stood behind me, slightly to one side but really close. So no one could see what you were going to do.' 

 He immediately stood up and circled you. He stopped behind you and stood as close as he possibly could, until the length of his left leg was pressed firmly against the back of your right. 

 'Like this?' that soft gravelly voice in your ear sent a shiver straight down your back and you could only nod in confirmation, 'And then what did I do?' 

 'Your hand. It - you started touching me.' 

 'Where?' 

 'Just skimming the inside of my thigh, under my dress.' 

 Your dress in the real life version of this scenario was, of course, now unceremoniously bunched up around your middle but still, his right hand lay flat against your lower abdomen, clamping your body to his and then you could feel the fingers on his left brushing the sensitive skin on your inside upper leg. Your body was rigid, every artery in your body working over time to keep your blood pumping to where it needed to be. 

 'And then?' 

 'Higher.' The sensation moved fractionally, but still nowhere near where you needed it the most. 

'Here?' 

 'Higher, please,' your voice came out as something between a strangled demand and a plead. 

 'But sweetheart, we're in a public place,' he teased you, dropping a light kiss under your ear lobe. None of the pressure was enough. You could literally feel the whole hard length of his body encasing you, but his touch was too light, his kisses too gentle. 

'Chris, please,' you fought to keep the sob out of your voice. He must have felt mercy for you then because he used his knee to nudge your legs further apart and then, with something almost like relief, but not quite, you felt his fingers finally, finally reach your most sensitive part. 

One at first, circling, stroking, teasing. Then two. Broader strokes this time, bolder, applying more pressure, spreading your wetness around and around. You squeezed your eyes tightly closed, barely able to stand it. You'd been imagining this for hours, and had worked yourself into something nearing a frenzy. His touch was treading that fine line between sheer blissful relief and unsatisfactory teasing. He was purposefully keeping you teetering on the edge, and you knew it. 

 'Chris, I swear to god, if you don't go inside soon, I'm going to come down there and do it myself,' the hours of self-imposed torture mixed with plentiful sugary, fruity cocktail had made you desperately direct. But your words did not have the intended effect as his manipulations stilled. He was silent for a moment, his breathing slightly shallower, and then when he spoke, his voice was deliciously low and rough. 

 'Show me.' 

 You blinked for a second, processing his request, and then your own hand travelled down the front of your body, skimming over your skin and seeking out his fingers where they lay still and nestled against you from behind. You found them quickly, slick and warm, and you wasted no time in pushing them back towards where you most wanted them to be, guiding his index finger slowly inside you, first from the middle joint, then the knuckle when that disappeared. 

You worked together; he pulled out and you pushed back in. The sensation had your head falling back against his shoulder and rolling towards his neck so you could breathe in that warm, masculine scent. The hand against your stomach kept you steady and upright at least. 

 'Another one,' you were ready to take this up a notch and he pulled his hand back slightly to press his index and middle fingers together so you could push them both back in. The stretch was slight but enough. For now. 

 Your other hand now crept lower and lower, wanting that sense of relief on the outside again, and you began circling as you fucked yourself with his fingers but Chris was there quickly, wriggling his hand under yours and stilling. You realised with a start that he wanted you to move his fingers over your clit too. There was almost too much feeling, too many sensations and you could feel your body beginning to climb. You had to actively remember to take a breath every so often. Chris let out something like a soft growl as your knees began to shake and he felt more of your writhing weight against that arm running from your hip, across your abdomen and down to where you pushed and pulled his fingers through your heat. 

 You were losing the methodical movement and control of your hands as you scrambled towards release but Chris wasn't done with you yet. He fought against your ministrations and stopped you from pumping his fingers inside you. He caught your other hand in his, leaving without internal or external stimulation, almost at unravelling point. 

 'Mind if I take over from here?' He spoke into your ear softly, 'Call me selfish but I like to see your face when you come.' 

 You nodded your head emphatically. Of course you didn't mind. He could make it a thousand times better than you ever could. But that didn't stop you from actually wanting to cry as he removed his hands properly from your skin. They weren't gone for long though, and they were quickly under the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and up towards your head. 

 'Good. Let's get you out of this, it's covering you up far too much for my liking.'  

You lifted your arms up obediently and he gently tugged it off you, careful not to get the lacy material caught on your earrings. 

And there you were in all your naked glory, flushed from head to toe. Missing his touch after having gone seconds without it, you spun around to find him having already shrugged out of his jacket and now pulling off his tshirt. You dived in to help with his lower half, unbuckling his belt, popping open the button on his pants and releasing the zipper. He was ready, pulling trousers and boxers past his hips the moment you had finished with the fastenings. You crouched to hold the pooled items steady while he stepped out and then you looked straight ahead. Jesus Christ. You still got that flutter of excitement when you saw him naked, just as you did the first time the two of you had sex, knowing that soon, he would be inside you. 

 You leaned forward and placed a tentative kiss against the place just to the right of where his defined V of muscle dipped low on his abdomen. No sooner had you done that, however, than he hauled you up quickly, curling one arm under your knees and turning to lay you on the soft mattress in one smooth movement. Hands were planted either side of your head as his knee firmly nudged your legs apart. 

 'No time for that,' he'd known where you had intended to go after that kiss, 'Need to be in you. Now.' 

 You laughed and curled your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you. 

'I'm the one that's been torturing myself all night, with thoughts of you and your talents. I'd have thought you'd have had a little more patience and self control.'  

'You're lucky you made it out tonight. Watching that ass wiggle it's way out the door is the hardest thing I ever do.' 

 'Poor baby,' you caressed his cheek. You loved how beautiful and sexy and wanted he made you feel, 'Did you have to go jack off?' 

 'No. There I did manage to impose some self control. Knowing you'd be back and I'd get to do this.' 

 You beamed at him, practically glowing under his compliments, before reaching up to remove his glasses, reaching behind you to place them on the side table. His expression turned quizzical. 

 'Didn't want them getting broken. I suspect that this isn't going to be gentle, sweet love-making,' you couldn't keep the excitement out of your voice. You were already reaching down with one hand between your bodies to grip his length and guide him to your entrance. 

 'Hey, I'm always sweet with you. And with us it's always love-making,' he leaned down to capture your mouth with his as his tip nudged against you, finding its home. 

He went slowly at first, allowing you to feel every solid inch, until he was in to the hilt. You were squirming under his body and so you wrapped your legs around his hips and crossed your ankles, trying to keep your body from its involuntary movements and to get him as deep as possible. 

 'Okay?' his forehead rested against yours. You could see the strain of not moving in his face and feel it in the tension across his shoulders. 

 'Always,' you whispered, palm against his cheek, tilting your mouth up to his, lips only millimetres apart, 'Love you.' 

 'Love you too. So much.' 

 And then he started to move and you could form no more coherent thoughts. Your entire being was focused solely on the strong slide of his body against and in and out of yours. Neither of you were going to last long after all of the teasing and touching but it was going to be fucking good. Each powerful thrust brought you closer and closer to release, each clashing connection jarred you, shunting you ever more towards the edge of the bed and stealing the breath from your lungs. 

He was so deep it almost hurt and somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you were looking forward to feeling that delicious ache when you moved tomorrow and seeing the raised pink blush that his beard left against your throat and collar bones, knowing that it was all his doing. Your hands tightened in his hair as your body prepared to be pushed over the edge and he pulled his face back from yours, looking into your eyes with intent. 

 'C'mon sweetheart, let go. You've been waiting for this all night.' 

 You arched against him, the motion ever so slightly changing the angle of his thrusts into your body, and your legs tightened around his hips. You were both breathless, clamouring for that final rush, every muscle in both of your bodies clutching to the shreds of control to make this final stage as blindingly explosive as possible. 

 'Chris, I'm gonna-' 

 'I know baby, just give in.' 

 And he gave you two or three (you just couldn't keep count) more incredible thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in. You toppled over, unravelling in his arms, your body taut as you attempted to truly feel every crashing wave, determined not to close your eyes, wanting to see him as he'd seen you: falling into oblivion, helpless to the electric surge firing between you. 

 'Don't stop,' you warned him. 

Each continued roll of his hips ignited a shuddering aftershock through your nerves and you wanted more and more. 

'Wasn't planning on it,' the tightness in his voice gave him away. 

He was almost there, letting himself lose it now he was certain that you were taken care of. Your fingertips grazed his sides, exploring the peaks and troughs of his ribs as you met each one of this thrusts, helping him along as much as you could, your body burning inside and out. 

 'Just let go. You won't hurt me. Do whatever you need to. Use my body. It's yours anyway.' 

 'Fuck-' he cursed, sweat beading on his forehead and he shifted his weight to one forearm, using his now free arm to wrap under your arched back, pulling you up to him even more tightly. 

The new angle and leverage allowed him to go faster, harder, deeper, even though you hadn't thought it possible. You were immobilised and helpless and all you could do was hold either side of his face, stroking your thumbs along his cheekbones whispering that you were his as he drove into you over and over again. Although you wanted to watch him come undone above you, part of you wanted this to never stop, you just wanted to freeze time and feel the friction and intensity between you forever. But you saw that unmistakable shift in his expression, the darkening of his eyes, the rigid set of his jaw and you knew he was done. 

 'There it is. Don't stop, I want to feel it all when you come inside me,' you coaxed him to the end of his exertion. 

 Chris let out a low growl in response and his mouth collided with yours as his release hit. Your body fell to the mattress as his supporting arm gave out under him and you were pinned beneath his heavy, wonderful weight, your legs refusing to let go of his waist. His rhythm lost, he pumped shallowly, barely pulling out at all before shifting forwards again as he rode out his orgasm, milking every last drop of himself to leave inside you. You kissed him through it all, marvelling that such a reaction to you was still possible, even after all this time. 

 *** 

 Chris loved it when she came home after being out with her friends. Every so often, her group would arrange a girl's night and she'd get all dressed up, do her eyeliner in that way that made her look like a 1950s Hollywood seductress, strap on her highest heels, and it would take every ounce of self control he had to not pin her to the wall and start a night of pleasure much earlier than intended. This night had been no different. 

His mouth had gone dry when she'd twirled in front of him. She always looked beautiful, she was always sexy, but there was something about these kind of nights that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the anticipation, knowing that in a few hours, she'd be home. A little tipsy, of course, and, having imagined his body pressed against hers as she danced, a little frisky. And that was always an exciting prospect. 

 So he forced himself into a work state while she was gone to keep those feelings of anticipation from getting too intense. He wanted to be ready and waiting. The fact that he knew full well how much she liked it when he wore his glasses was merely an added bonus. And that he chose to work off the bed instead of from his desk? Purely for comfort reasons, that's all. 

 Sure enough, a few hours later, she appeared in the doorway: a little clumsy (from the cocktails, he imagined) but definitely watching him with interest. He thought he'd known then how the night was going to continue, but she'd surprised him with her imaginings. It had been beyond intimate, her using his own hands to pleasure herself, trusting him completely to keep her upright while she did so. 

 And now here he was, middle of the night, drinking in this glorious, naked woman and watching her sleep off the alcohol and the physical exhaustion of their love making, wondering how he got to be so damned lucky. She'd ache tomorrow, and he'd already planned to take a hot bath with her. But for now, he wondered if she'd mind being woken up by his tongue on her clit. 

As he carefully shifted down the bed, she stirred from sleep and, although drowsy, instinctively sought out his form with her eyes. Realising after a second where he was heading, she did nothing but smile lazily and he decided that no, she wouldn't mind at all.

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