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oh-my-damn · 1 year

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Just Steve

A/N: The much awaited part 2 of Ethereal has finally arrived! The incredible gif is by my amazing bestie @justconfettiandsomeddew. I will never stop praising her for her immense talent (I actually cried when I first saw this) <3333

Series Masterlist

Pairing: TWS!Steve Rogers x Neighbor!Reader

Summary: You and Steve have been on a few dates when you suddenly realize he's been keeping a big secret from you.

Warnings: Steve is (still) a literal golden retriever, some angst/frustration, Sad boi Stevie, reader acting irrational and then apologizing (lol). SMUT - p in v, fingering, grinding/making out, dirty talk, praise, Stevie showing his dominant side (i love that), a teeny tiny Captain kink lol, but all in all very soft, first time vibes

Word Count: 9000 (I'm not sorry)

The beautiful divider is by @firefly-graphics

"What movie should we watch this time?"

You plop down on your couch next to Steve, placing the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of it.

You swiftly pick up the remote, turning on your TV and immediately sifting through the options.

Steve watches as your brows furrow in concentration, draping his arm over the back of the couch. You lean into him unconsciously, pulling your feet up on the seat as your side relaxes into his.

"We've been working our way through Star Wars," he hums, his hand finding your shoulder to stroke it gently, "There are more than the three we watched, right?"

You snort, nodding at his words, "Yeah, obviously. I can't believe you've never watched those."

Steve chuckles quietly, his shoulders lifting in a shrug, "I was saving them, I guess."

You glance over at him, quirking a brow, "Waiting for the right girl, huh?"

Steve chuckles again, nodding, "Yeah, exactly. The right girl."

Your cheeks heat up a little at his words, your eyes holding his intensely. The hand on your shoulder slowly moves upwards, his fingers sliding into your hair.

"C'mere," he whispers softly as he pulls you closer, "You haven't kissed me yet, today."

You giggle quietly before leaning in, gently brushing your lips over his. He lets out a content sigh, the fingers in your hair tightening their hold when his lips chase yours.

His soft lips move over your own languidly, the hand at the back of your head controlling your motions when he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

You drop the remote before your fingers grip his t-shirt, leaning your body into his to kiss him more determinedly.

You swipe your tongue over his bottom lip, and he lets out a low groan before his plump lips part, his tongue tangling with your own.

His free hand slides up your thigh, and it makes you squirm a little, moaning softly into his mouth.

His fingers grip your flesh firmly, massaging your skin, your mind turning foggy.

But then you pull back right as his hand starts trailing higher.

"Stevie," you breathe out, your eyes fluttering open to look at him, "I need.."

You hesitate, and he tilts his head in a question, watching you intently. You want to lose yourself in the blue of his eyes, his pupils dilated as his gaze stays locked on your face.

"Can we.. Would it be okay if we.. Took it slow?" You whisper, reaching up to cup his cheek, "It's just, I.. I'm not.. That experienced, and I want it to mean something."

Steve's eyes search your face for a moment before he smiles, nodding gently, "Of course, sweetheart. We can wait as long as you need. I'm in no rush."

"Are you sure?" You whisper nervously. You wouldn't have imagined someone who looks like Steve to be used to taking it slow.

Steve nods again, tilting his head to kiss your palm, "I'm sure, baby. We'll take it slow. Don't worry."

You lean in to kiss him again, and Steve lets out a sound of surprise before you quickly pull back to curl up against him on the couch. You pick up the remote while his hand finds your hair again, stroking it gently as you press play.

You hang your coat on the rack at the entrance of Janine's apartment when you enter, toeing your shoes off before you walk inside.

"It's pouring outside," you complain, immediately heading to the open spaced kitchen for a glass of water. You spot her sitting on the couch next to Melanie, both of them with their backs to you as they watch something on TV. "I'm practically soaked."

Janine only hums in response, and so does Melanie, which makes you frown a little as you take a sip of your water. You glance at the screen, noticing it's the news, before putting down your glass and taking a few steps closer to them, "You guys. Did you hear me?"

Melanie shushes you, keeping her eyes locked on the screen, "Shh, we're trying to watch this, something is happening."

Your frown deepens as you walk over to the couch, taking a seat next to Melanie. You lower your voice, watching the screen, "What's going on?"

You can hardly tell what's happening, it's some form of fight, the news feed is chaotic and unable to focus properly.

Then your eyes suddenly widen in surprise, "Holy shit, are those robots?"

"Yeah," Janine mumbles, "Killer fucking robots."

"Jesus," you breathe out, leaning forward a little to get a better look, "Where is that?"

"Sokovia," Melanie responds quietly, "it's a country in Europe."

"Oh.." you watch in fascination, your interest piquing when you see a robot in red and gold. "Why does that robot look different from the others? And why is it fighting them?"

Melanie snorts, "That's not a robot, that's Iron Man."

You turn to look at her, "Is he that tech guy turned superhero?"

"Yeah," Janine nods, keeping her eyes on the screen, "Tony Stark."

You hum and nod, glancing back at the TV.

"Why are the Avengers there? I thought they only fought crime in the US."

"They fight crime wherever there is crime," Melanie states, "They're not like the military, they're more like independent contractors."

You nod again, leaning back on the couch before you cross one leg over the other. Then you gesture at the screen when you spot someone shooting arrows, snorting in amusement, "He's shooting arrows at robots? That's ridiculous. Is this real?"

"Yes, it's real," Janine says before looking at you pointedly, "And that's Hawkeye, he's incredible, you know. He's fighting alongside the others with no super powers and no special enhancements."

Your brows raise in surprise, "Oh, okay. Yeah, that is actually pretty cool."

"They're all really cool," Melanie corrects, "Every single one of them is like a mini god."

"Oh, I've heard of the god guy," You interject quickly, "He's the one wlth the hammer. I saw it on instagram."

"Yeah, Thor," Janine says absentmindedly, "He's a dreamboat."

You watch the screen for a while longer until you spot a shield flying through the air.

"That's Captain America, right? The one with the shield?"

You watch as the shield is caught by a big guy wearing a navy suit and a cowl, not noticing how your friends share a look between the two of them.

"It is," Janine says, eyeing you hesitantly, "I didn't think you knew about him."

"I don't know much," you shrug, watching the screen, "But I remember that it was a big deal when they found him in that freezer, or whatever."

"The ice," Melanie snorts, "They found him in ice."

"Same thing," You shrug, "He's a bit too patriotic for my taste."

"Is that so?" Janine inquires, glancing at you, "You don't like him?"

"I don't really have an opinion, but he wouldn't be my favorite," You state, slowly getting bored as you watch the action unfolding.

"Should I get us some snacks?" You ask, and before Janine can even respond, you get up from the couch to walk to the kitchen, "I'm gonna get us some snacks."

You tune out your surroundings while you get chips and make some popcorn, oblivious to the quiet conversation happening on the couch.

"She still doesn't know?" Melanie whispers to Janine, "How has he not told her yet?"

"We're not even sure if it really is him," Janine responds, "It could just be a coincidence. The name thing."

"Yeah, okay, you're right," Melanie nods slowly, mulling it over before she says, "But she said he was really hot, though."

"Lots of guys are hot," Janine scoffs, "Doesn't mean anything. If it really was him, we would have known about it by now."

"Yeah, but what-"

"All good!" You cheer as you walk back towards the couch. You place the snacks on the coffee table before you plop down in your former spot.

You reach over to take a handful of popcorn, chewing them while you ask, "Are we gonna watch this all day?"

Melanie looks over at you before she grabs the bowl of popcorn to hold it in her lap, "Do you not want to watch it? I mean, it's pretty interesting, you have to admit that."

"Sure," you shrug, chewing another handful, "But you guys know I'm not into those Avenger guys. Like that one, Captain America, what a pretentious fucking douchebag name. And his costume is even worse."

You gesture to the screen, watching as the camera follows the giant shield flying through the air.

"You just know he'll be the type of guy to be all full of himself, he's probably not even-"

Your sentence is cut short when the camera follows the shield as it's caught. You practically choke when the camera zooms in and you recognize Steve's face, now no longer obscured by the cowl he was wearing earlier.

Melanie and Janine both turn to look at you at your abrupt silence, their brows furrowing in anticipation.

"Holy shit," you breathe out, panicking when the camera pans away to focus on a red-haired woman instead, "Wait, stop! Go back, rewind! Rewind!"

You jump up from the couch, yelling loudly and making Janine flail for the remote. She does as instructed, and watches in part amusement and part horror as you round the coffee table to get closer to the screen.

"Right there! Stop!" You exclaim when the camera focuses on Steve's face. Your mouth drops open, your heart practically stopping in your chest.

"Oh my god," you whisper, dumbly reaching out to touch the screen, "Oh my god. It's Steve."

Melanie and Janine glance at each other before Melanie hesitantly asks, "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm fucking sure!" You yell in response, keeping your eyes locked on the TV, "You think I don't recognize my own fucking boyfriend?!"

"Boyfriend?" Janine quips, "Since when is he your boyfriend?"

Her words make you whip around to face the two of them, your lips clamping shut. You let out a small huff before you say, "He isn't, technically, but he could be, eventually.. You know?"

Then you glance back at the TV as you hurriedly say, "And anyway, that's not the point! The point is that Steve is on TV and he's wearing that stupid costume and throwing a shield around!"

You immediately turn to look at them again, "Steve is Captain America! Is he?! Is Steve Captain America?!"

Janine smiles softly before Melanie hesitantly says, "He uh.. He might be, yes."

"WHAT?!"

"We had our suspicions," she continues, exchanging a glance with Janine, "But we weren't sure. We figured you'd know, if he really was.. You know?"

You huff in annoyance, immediately digging your phone out of your pocket and finding his number.

"What are you doing?" Melanie asks as she watches you.

"Calling him," you grumble, "Gotta find out if it's really true or not."

"Babe, he's literally in a giant fight, the newscast is live. He won't answer."

"Then I'll leave a fucking message," you seethe, pressing his name before you bring the phone to your ear.

The call immediately goes to voicemail.

"You've reached Steve Rogers. Please leave a message after the tone."

As soon as you hear the beep, it's like your mind goes blank, making you spew out your thoughts angrily.

"Steven! Please explain to me why I'm currently watching you throw a GIANT FRISBEE AFTER KILLER ROBOTS?! YOU BETTER HOPE YOU DIE IN THAT FIGHT BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T, BEST BELIEVE I WILL FINISH THE JOB FOR THEM!"

You hang up with another loud huff, Janine and Melanie watching you in horror.

"I can't believe you just said that!" Janine exclaims, "What the fuck?!"

Steve slumps down in his seat on the quinjet, still reeling from the fight he just went through.

He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, the suit clammy and grimey after wearing it for so long. He knows he's covered in sweat and dirt, he doesn't need a mirror to tell him that, and he has no doubt that even a super soldier smells horrific after such an ordeal.

Natasha takes a seat next to him, staying unusually quiet as she sighs. He glances over at her, offering her a small smile, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she says with a nod, and within a moment it's passed, it's like her mask is back up, shielding her emotions from the world. She smiles at him, nudging his shoulder, "Okay, so, about that date I promised to set you up on, there's this girl-"

"No need," Steve cuts her off, putting his hand up to stop her, "I'm good."

"Steve, come on," Natasha smiles, "You can't be alone forever. You deserve someone in your life."

Steve nods, the corners of his lips raising in a smirk, looking down at his hands folded in his lap.

Natasha catches on immediately.

She cocks a brow, tilting her head while scanning his face, "Oh, I see. You already do, don't you?"

Steve offers a bashful shrug, grinning when he looks up at her again, "Maybe."

"Oh damn," Natasha grins, "And you did it all on your own? Well done, bud! Who is she?"

He snorts at her wording, "I'm not a kid, Nat. Stop patronizing me. And she's my neighbor, actually."

Natasha nods, smiling widely at him, "That's great, Rogers. I'm happy to hear that. Did you call her to let you know you're safe and sound yet?"

Steve's brows furrow in response, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, "Well, uh, you see.."

Natasha frowns, her eyes narrowing.

"She doesn't really know I'm Cap.. Yet."

Natasha's frown only deepens, "What do you mean, she doesn't know? How can she not know? We're on the news practically every day."

Steve shrugs, "Beats me. At first I thought she just didn't recognize me when I introduced myself. But she's never mentioned it, ever. We even talked about the army, and she asked me about it, told me about her brother being a soldier. Still nothing, no recognition, no realization, nothing. I think she legitimately doesn't know it's me."

Natasha's brows raise in surprise, "She must not watch the news a lot."

Steve snorts and chuckles, "No, probably not. But it's been nice, actually. I've been able to pretend I'm just a normal guy, taking her on normal dates. I don't have to be Cap all the time. With her, I can just be Steve. I haven't gotten to be just Steve since before the serum."

Natasha smiles softly, "That's great, Rogers. That's really great. That's how it's supposed to be."

Steve smiles warmly, humming as he nods.

"So where does she think you are?"

"At work," he replies with another shrug, "Told her I work for the military, which isn't a complete lie."

"But we've been gone for a week," Natasha counters, "Did you let her know you're on your way back home?"

Steve's lips purse momentarily before he starts fumbling around for his phone, "No, you're right, I should probably let her know.."

Natasha chuckles, watching how he pats his suit down before he finally finds the old flip-phone.

"Good idea. And you should consider investing in a new phone."

"This works fine," Steve frowns, flipping it open and turning it on, "Why would I get a new one if this one works? I have my work phone, but it has so many unnecessary features, most of the time I prefer using this one."

Natasha chuckles again, making Steve look at her in confusion, but then his attention is pulled back to his phone when it pings.

"Oh, I have a voice message," he mumbles absentmindedly, brows furrowing as he presses the buttons.

"Maybe it's from her," Natasha smiles, watching his large fingers hitting the small buttons clumsily. "You know, buttons wouldn't be an issue if you upgraded to a smart-phone," she sasses, making Steve shake his head.

He presses play on the message, his brows raising when he hears your voice blaring loudly through the speaker.

"Oh shit," Steve breathes out, his eyes widening in terror, "Oh fuck."

"I like her," Natasha chuckles when the message ends, "She seems feisty. You need someone feisty."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Steve mumbles, frowning as he opens up his texting app.

"Language," Natasha states, but she can tell his mind is elsewhere when he doesn't even react.

She looks down at the phone in his hand, horrified once she realizes what he's doing. She immediately snags the flip-phone out of his grasp, shutting it swiftly.

"Hey!-"

"Absolutely not, Rogers," she interrupts, looking at him pointedly, "You do not respond to something like that with a fucking text."

Steve's face is tense in worry, his eyes searching Natasha's for answers, "Then what do I do? I have to fix it, apologize so she doesn't-"

"You do that face to face," Natasha states, interrupting him again. "And you bring her flowers, maybe chocolate, too. Judging by how angry she sounded, I'd say chocolate would be smart."

"Chocolate?" He asks in confusion, tilting his head, "Why?"

"Because you're apologizing for lying to her, and the best way to do that is by giving her candy. And flowers."

"But I didn't lie, I was just-"

"You weren't being truthful," Natasha corrects, "And not being truthful equals lying. I think you already know you should have told that girl the truth a long time ago. How many dates have you been on?"

"Just a few," Steve mumbles, glancing at his phone currently still in Natasha's hand, "We went for a ride on my bike, and then I went over to her place for tea, and then-"

"Tea?" Natasha asks, cocking a brow, "Is that code for something?"

Steve looks up at her in confusion, "Like what?"

Natasha watches his confused expression, trying to decipher whether he's kidding or not, before she bluntly asks, "Have you had sex yet?"

As soon as the words leave her lips, she spots the pink tinging Steve's cheeks. He breaks eye contact, slowly shaking his head, "No, we haven't had sex yet. We've kissed, the first time when I went to her place for tea. And then a few other times, too. We had some movie dates.. It was nice."

"Nice? Just nice? A kiss should preferably be better than nice."

"Oh no, the kiss was amazing," Steve quickly interjects as he looks up at her, "It blew my freaking mind, that's why I kept wanting to do it."

Natasha chuckles at his sweet demeanor, "Okay, good. I got worried for a second. So you've kissed, but you're taking it slow otherwise, huh?"

"Yeah, I uh.." Steve hesitates, running a hand through his hair nervously before his voice lowers, "I kinda haven't.. Done that.. Since I came out of the ice.."

"Oh," Natasha breathes out, her brows raising, "I see."

"Yeah, but we've been taking it slow," he shrugs, "It's not like I've been holding off, but we're both just enjoying the others company."

"That's cute," Natasha smiles, "I'm glad you finally found someone you actually like."

Steve chuckles, nodding as he says, "I do, I really like her. She's cute, and funny. Smart, too. Very sweet. Kind. Beautiful."

Natasha hums at his words, Steve's eyes dropping to his phone before he whispers, "Now I just need to figure out how to fix the mistake I made.."

You pull on a pair of sleep shorts when your doorbell rings at a quarter to ten at night.

You're practically scowling as you walk towards your front door, still in a bad mood from earlier.

You're in your night shirt, prepared for bed already, and you're unfazed at your demeanor as you pull open your front door, brows pulled into a deep frown.

But it somehow turns deeper when you realize who's standing on the other side of the threshold.

You huff, eyes narrowing as you glare up at the blonde man towering over you, "What are you doing here?"

Steve's brows furrow in confusion, his head tilting a little, "I got your message. I came here as soon as I could, I wanted to explain.." He trails off, before remembering what he brought, raising both hands to show you the box of chocolates in one and a bouquet of roses in the other.

Your icy facade thaws just a little bit when you take it all in, but then it hardens again when your eyes trail over his form.

He's wearing a blue leather suit, a uniform, complete with red and white stripes, and a silver star on his chest. His face is dirty, his hair matted, and you realize he wasn't exaggerating when he said he came straight here.

"Can I come in?"

Steve's voice pulls you from your thoughts, your eyes meeting his. The familiar baby blue of them makes your heart skip a beat, breaking down your resistance.

You step aside, gesturing for him to enter your apartment, and he takes the hint immediately. You close the door behind him once he's walked inside, turning around to face you as he holds out his full hands again.

"Here, these are for you," he murmurs quietly, studying your expression, "A friend told me it would help you forgive me.."

You reluctantly take the flowers and chocolates, bringing them into the kitchen with you. You place them on the kitchen island before walking around it in search for a vase.

Steve unhooks the shield from his back and places it to rest against the wall before he follows you into the kitchen, his heart aching slightly at your uncharacteristic silence.

He watches as you rise up on your tiptoes to reach into the cabinet for a vase, and it takes everything in him to not step in and grab it for you.

You fill the vase with water before you place it on the counter top, carefully arranging the roses when you place them in it. Once you're done, you take a deep breath and turn to the blonde super soldier standing awkwardly in your kitchen.

"So," you say, your arms crossing over your chest, "You're Captain America."

Steve nods hesitantly, his blue eyes watching you carefully, "Yes, I am."

"And why didn't you tell me?" You ask sternly, your eyes narrowed as you hold his gaze.

Steve lets out a deep sigh, his form deflating a little when his eyes break away from yours. "I liked that I didn't have to be Cap around you. I liked just being Steve."

Your brows furrow in confusion, "What? What does that even mean?"

"I've been Cap in every aspect of my life since they gave me the serum," Steve states, his baby blues meeting yours again, "Every part of my life has been about Cap. Every choice I've made, every person I've known, every single meal I've eaten has been for Cap, about Cap. I didn't realize I would be giving up being Steve when I became this, but for a long time it's felt like it."

Your eyes search his, your features softening slowly.

"And then you come along and for the first time I got to be just Steve. I got to just be me, I got to take you on normal dates, got to drink tea and watch movies and not have to think about anything other than how soft your lips felt. I didn't want to give that up. I was being selfish."

Your heart hurts at his words, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt to fiddle with it.

"I'm sorry for not telling you," Steve says earnestly, "I just wanted to pretend to be normal for as long as I could. I was worried everything would change once you found out."

"Steve, I-" you hesitate, practically drowning in the blue of his eyes. He looks vulnerable, opening up to you in such a personal way, it makes you want to wrap your arms around him and hold him close.

"I'm sorry," you say honestly, "I'm sorry you felt that way. And I'm sorry for being such an asshole about it."

Your gaze drops to the floor, a pang of guilt in your chest. You shouldn't have yelled at him, if you'd known how he really felt, you wouldn't have.

Steve's head tilts, a soft smile working its way onto his face, "Yeah, you're right. You're just an asshole."

"Yeah," You whisper, nodding as tears gather in your waterline. You sniffle to keep them at bay, but instead it triggers them, and Steve's heart breaks when he sees them trailing down your cheeks.

"Oh god, please don't," he says quietly, taking hesitant steps closer until he's right in front of you, "Sweetheart, please don't cry. I was trying to lighten the mood, I'm sorry."

You sniffle again, lifting your head to look up at him, "I'm sorry."

Steve's heart aches, smiling sadly, "Stop apologizing, please. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I yelled at you," you whisper, tears now flowing freely down your face, "I was.. m-mean to you."

Suddenly, his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest. You press your cheek against the firm muscle, the leather suit rubbing your skin comfortingly. Your arms wrap around his waist, your hands doing their best to curl in the material.

He brushes his large hand through your hair, shushing you gently, "it'll be alright, honey. It's okay. I'm not mad at you. You're not an asshole."

You sniffle again, mumbling against his chest, "Sometimes I just say things without thinking."

Steve chuckles, placing a kiss in your hair, "I like when you say things."

You giggle quietly, lifting your head to look up at him, "Even when it's not nice?"

Steve smiles, his hand cupping your cheek before he swipes away a tear with his thumb. His leather glove is warm against your skin, making you nuzzle into it gently, "I prefer when you're nice, but I'll take any part of you I can get, sweetheart."

You look up at him in adoration, your hands sliding down his back to his waist, "I'll take any part of you I can get too, Stevie. I'm sorry I got angry, in all honesty I was just scared and I reacted poorly. Seeing you up there was.. Scary. Terrifying, really. I'm worried it might take a while for me to get used to.."

Steve nods in understanding, "Of course. To be honest, I'd be more concerned if you weren't worried. At least this way I know you care about me."

You scoff and chuckle, shaking your head as you look up at him, "You really think I don't care about you?"

He quirks a teasing brow, which makes you laugh as you say, "Fine, maybe I could be better at showing it.."

Your eyes gaze over his face, taking in the dirt on his skin and his mussed up hair.

"Actually, I think I have a really good idea of how I can show you."

"How's the water?"

You pick up the discarded leather suit from the floor, doing your best to not outrightly stare at the muscled adonis currently reclined in your bathtub. His legs are bent at the knees, showing off part of his thick thighs, his firm chest shiny from the water. His biceps are bulging at the relaxed bent state he has them in, one huge arm hanging off the side of the tub, his long slender fingers reaching the floor.

Steve's head is resting on the edge of the tub, his eyes closed as a content sigh leave his lips.

"It's amazing."

"Let me know if it gets too cold," you mumble bashfully, sneaking another glance at the greek god currently filling out your tub. Your eyes keep moving to his spread out thighs, and the area between them haphazardly concealed by the bubbles floating around the surface.

Steve only hums, the hand draped over the side of the tub absentmindedly reaching out for you. His fingers brush up your ankle to your calf, your heart doing an excited thump when he gently strokes your skin.

"Thank you for this, sweetheart," he murmurs, eyes lazily opening until his baby blues can find you, "You didn't have to."

You smile softly, your chest feeling warm and fuzzy as you take in the sleepy smile on his face, "It's not a problem, Stevie. Just relax. Use the oils, if you want. Lavender is good for winding down."

His smile widens a little, holding loving eye contact, which you break after a moment because your nerves get the better of you. You glance down at the suit bundled up in your arms, "You sure this thing can go in the washer?"

Steve chuckles, "Yeah, don't worry. No dryer, though. I tried doing that once, it ruined my old one."

You snort, a small giggle spilling past your lips, "I would imagine. You shouldn't tumble dry leather."

Steve just shrugs as you look at him again, it's like he's melting into the bath and it makes you let out another quiet giggle. "I'm gonna go start the washer. Be right back."

His fingers slide up your leg momentarily until he lets you go, and you take a deep breath once you've stepped out of the bathroom. You hurriedly move to your utility room, putting the suit in the washer and starting the load.

Once you walk back into the hallway, you almost stumble over the large shield propped up against the wall. You smile in amusement, bending down to gently touch the sleek metal.

Your brows raise in surprise at how smooth it feels, safe for the thin ridges cut into it to make out the circles and star. You glance down the hall towards the bathroom, the door open a smidge, your ears tuning in when you hear the water running.

Your eyes move back to the shield, careful fingers gripping it and raising it to your height. It's surprisingly light, something you wouldn't have figured, and you turn it around in your hands, your head tilting curiously when you see the leather straps attached to the back of it.

You react before you can think, directing your arm to go through the straps before your hand grips one to hold it up. You turn towards the mirror by your coat stand, your lips raising in a wide smile when you hold up the large shield in front of your body.

It's huge in size, practically swallowing you up, and it makes you let out a chuckle.

"Doesn't look this huge on him," you mumble, turning in front of the mirror as you hold up the shield. You try to move your arm around carefully, but the shield suddenly feels heavier when all its weight is put on just one arm.

"Damn," you murmur quietly, "He really is strong."

You try to grip it more firmly, imaging having to throw it around and catch it, and it makes your eyes widen a little.

He's really, really strong.

Your mind wanders at the thought; obviously, you always knew Steve was bigger and stronger than you, the way he towers over you is a testament to that. But it suddenly hits you that he's not just normally strong, no; he's super strong, and for some reason the thought makes your body tingle all over.

Your fingers swipe over the curved edge of the shield as you hold it up in front of you, your eyes transfixed on the image, mind swimming with possibilities. In fact, you're so occupied by your own thoughts that you don't hear the tub being drained.

"Sweetheart, do you have anything I could put on?"

You whip around to face Steve when he suddenly emerges from the bathroom, his brows immediately furrowing when he spots you holding his shield.

He's in nothing but a very flimsy towel, one that fits you fine but looks comically small on his large frame. It's tied around his hips, giving you a perfect view of his firm pecks and chiseled abs, barely covering his crotch before it ends midway down his thick thighs.

Steve quirks a brow at you, his gaze taking you in as you hold up his shield, your brows raised in surprise at being caught. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, large biceps bulging at the action, while he leisurely leans against the wall, keeping his baby blues locked on you.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something here?"

You let out a squeak, fumbling to get your arm out of the leather straps and almost dropping the shield on the floor, but it only makes Steve chuckle.

"Relax," he says with a smile, "It's fine. How does it feel?"

Your fingers tighten their hold a little to steady it, cheeks heating up as he looks at you. You mumble bashfully, "It's uhm.. It's pretty cool.."

"Yeah?" Steve grins, pushing off the wall and strolling closer. You try to keep your eyes on his face, and not on his god-like body that's still damp and shiny from his bath.

Not to mention the small towel that is most likely obstructing what would have been an even better view....

"Not too heavy?" Steve inquires, glancing down at the shield when he reaches you, "It looks a little big on you."

You let out a nervous giggle, nodding when his eyes flit back up to meet yours. "Yeah, it's a little big. I didn't think it'd be that heavy, but the longer I hold it with one arm like this, the heavier it becomes."

Steve chuckles, nodding as his fingers reach out to grip the edge, lifting it up to give you some reprieve, "Yeah, I know. You get used to it though."

He holds it up for you while you carefully maneuver your arm out, smiling up at him, "Can't believe you throw that thing around. Guess you're really strong, huh?"

Steve laughs, swiftly pushing his arm through the leather straps and holding the shield up in front of him. He holds it effortlessly, like it's the most natural thing in the world, and it stirs odd feelings inside you as you watch him.

"I guess," he says with a smile, watching your expression carefully, "I don't really think about it, anymore. In the beginning I had to adjust a lot; I wasn't used to being strong before the serum. Sometimes I still have to remind myself to be.. gentle."

Your breath hitches quietly at his wording, the look on his face as he says it. His eyes are boring into you, the blue slowly being swallowed out by his pupils, and nerves prickle your skin when you remember he's in nothing but a small towel right now.

You avert your gaze from his, clearing your throat quickly, "Right, uh, I guess that's.. Hard."

Steve nods immediately, pulling his arm out of the leather straps before he places the shield on the floor again, "Right, yeah, it can be.. yes.."

He stands back up, eyes slowly moving over your face, your heart beating rapidly in your chest when those baby blues meet yours again.

You can feel the nervous energy burning through you, like a rapid fire setting you alight. Your heart is pounding, you hear it in your damn ears, standing frozen in place right in front of the blonde super soldier who somehow managed to steal your heart in such a short amount of time.

Steve's lips slowly part as you both stand there, staring at each other, his chest rising and falling steadily as his eyes bounce between yours.

You can't stand this for even a second longer.

"Oh, fuck this," you murmur before you take a step, closing the space between you. You reach up to cup his face, guiding it down until his lips can meet yours.

Steve doesn't skip a beat, his strong hands find your hips, and you comply when they lift you off the ground. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms slung over his shoulders as you continue the passionate attack on his lips.

Steve groans lowly, his hands sliding down to your ass, holding you tight against him. You kiss him messily, your fingers curling in his hair, still damp from his bath.

"Bedroom," you moan against his lips, legs tightening around him when he bites down on your bottom lip, "Bedroom, please."

Steve grunts in agreement, stumbling down the hall in the direction of your bedroom while his soft lips continue possessing yours, a whimper pulled from you when his tongue slips into your mouth.

Once he makes his way to your bedroom, he drops you on the mattress, a whine of annoyance just about to leave your lips at the loss of contact. But it takes less than a second before he's back, his large frame looming over you as he leans down, his lips landing on yours again with fervor.

Your legs spread on instinct, allowing him to slot his large body between them, the fact that the towel has still managed to cover him after the commotion an afterthought in your mind.

Your hands are back in his hair, fingers sliding through the blonde strands as your legs lock around his narrow waist.

You pull him closer, moaning into his mouth when he complies and you feel his hardness pressing against your needy core.

"Stevie," you whimper against his lips, the soldier not ceasing his insistence to steal your breath away, "Need you. Need you so bad."

Steve groans, a guttural sound stemming from his chest before he suddenly pulls away, just enough to look at you. His wild eyes bounce between yours nervously, his brows furrowing slightly, "You sure? You said you wanted to take things slow, and that's-"

"No," you immediately whine, shaking your head, "No more slow, no. Please. I need to feel you, be close to you. I was so worried today, so angry, and sad, and worried, and hurting. I was so worried I'd never get to do this, never get to be close to you like this, and then after I was such an asshole, I was worried I'd lost you before you'd ever really been mine."

His features soften, his breathing heavy as he scans your face. His lips raise in a soft smile, words a small whisper, "I've been yours this entire time, sweetheart. You'd have to fight me off with an army for me to stay away. And even then, I probably wouldn't."

Your heart soars and emotion floods you, you can almost feel the tears pricking at the back of your eyes, but before you let them ruin the moment, you pull him back to you, your lips already missing the touch of his.

Steve kisses you carefully, his hands sliding up your sides and under the sleep shirt you're wearing. You sigh against his lips, lifting off the bed a little when his fingers grip the hem of your shirt to pull it off.

Your lips part from his when he lifts the shirt over your head, already reaching out for him to come back, but he doesn't oblige. Instead, he leans back until he's sitting on his haunches, his warm hands caressing your waist as he looks down at you.

"Fuck," he whispers, eyes trailing over your exposed chest, "I already knew you'd be beautiful, but.."

Your cheeks heat up, your smile turning shy as you watch him drink up every exposed inch of you.

His baby blues flit up to meet yours, hands slowly sliding up your stomach until his fingers brush the underside of your breasts.

You release a shaky breath, letting your hands trail up his forearms just as his hands glide over your breasts, two large palms giving them an experimental squeeze.

Steve lets out a quiet sound, one that's caught in his throat when his eyes flick back down to your breasts, watching as his nimble fingers squeeze your nipples between them.

You let out a small whimper, a sound that shoots through Steve like lightning, and he repeats the action, baby blues landing back on your face.

You squirm a little on the bed, hips bucking up involuntarily when he toys with your nipples, watching how your brows furrow and lips part.

Just as you're about to complain that you need more, his hands slide back down, heating your skin as they go, his fingers curling in the waistband of your shorts.

He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod hesitantly, but that's not enough for him.

"Aw baby, I thought you were a big girl, isn't that what you told me? C'mon, then. Use your big girl words for me."

His words stir something inside you, croaking out a quiet, "Please don't stop."

Steve hums in approval, slowly tugging down your shorts. It takes him no time to slide them down your legs, helping you maneuver around so he can pull them off, before he tosses them aside, not even glancing at where they land.

His large palms grip your inner thighs, slowly spreading you wide for him, eyes locked on yours until you're spread out for him. He looks down at your needy center, a groan bubbling up in his chest when he takes in your exposed body, letting his thumbs gently stroke the inside of your thighs, right next to where you need him most.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, slowly taking in your naked form until he's back to watching your face, "You're so beautiful, I could look at you for the rest of my life."

Nerves swirl around your body wildly, your heart thumping in your chest, but you don't have time to think about the gravity of his words.

Because his hands are inching closer, thumbs gently swiping over your folds teasingly, his teeth digging into his plump bottom lip when he swipes one down your slit.

"You're soaked," he comments, tilting his head as he looks at you, "What got you so worked up, hm baby?"

You want to make a sassy retort but you can't, because his fingers put more pressure on your core, collecting your slick, and it makes you glance down at the part of his body that's still covered by a towel, much to your dismay.

"Steve," you breathe out shakily when his fingers move up to circle your bundle of nerves, "Stevie, please."

"What's that?" he teases, his lips lifting in a smirk, "Sorry sweetheart, didn't hear you."

"Steve," you whine, back arching when his thumb swipes over your clit while he slowly pushes a thick finger inside you, "Fuck, I need you."

Steve hums in response, watching how his finger disappears into you, how your body opens up to him so beautifully.

"I know sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning over your body to look at you. He rests his weight on his forearm as he looms over you, adding another finger inside you and slowly pumping them in and out in tune with his thumb on your clit, "Gotta get you ready first, though."

You moan at how his thick digits play you like a finely tuned instrument, reaching up to cup his face. You bring him down to you, lips greedily taking his as his fingers pick up pace.

When he adds another finger to your aching hole, you let out a whine, and Steve takes the opportunity of your parted lips to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You mewl into his mouth when he starts fingering you more determinedly, your hands curling in his blonde locks as your hips buck up against his hand.

"Yeah, you like that?" He murmurs against your lips, making you nod eagerly, "Mmh, I can tell baby, you're squeezing my fingers so tight. You wanna come, hm?"

You nod again, pulling on his hair, which only makes him chuckle as he tucks his face into your neck, "Want that too. Want you to soak my fingers, need to make my best girl feel good."

His lips suck on your neck, making you keen under him, the coil in your stomach tightening and making your body tense in anticipation.

His thumb continues its expert assault on your clit, your hips bucking up before you start trembling, and when you come undone with a cry Steve groans, "That's it, there you go. Fuck yes, you're doing so well for me baby. Good girl, c'mon, keep going."

He doesn't let up, his fingers keep torturing you as you come, prolonging your orgasm, and you can feel your entire body starting to shake violently as you soak his hand in your juices.

You gasp loudly, slumping into the mattress when he finally lets up his assault, but you don't get much of a reprieve, because his lips are back, moving possessively over yours.

"We can stop, if you want," he mumbles against your lips, leaning his heavy weight on top of you when you wrap your arms over his shoulders, "We don't have to."

"Want to," you whisper immediately, "Want to feel you."

Steve pulls back a little, eyes meeting yours earnestly, "I'm serious, sweetheart. We can wait, we don't-"

"Steven," you interrupt, doing your best to keep your voice steady, "I want this. Please, I need this. Need you to fuck me. Need to feel you."

Steve's jaw tenses at your words, and it takes everything in him to remind himself to be gentle with you.

"I want this too," he replies, cupping your cheek, "More than anything, you have no idea. But, I.."

"What?" You ask, your brows furrowing at the serious expression on his face, "Stevie, what's wrong?"

He sighs, his thumb stroking your cheek and swiping over your bottom lip, "I uhm.. You know, the serum enhances everything. And I, uh, I haven't really been with anyone since I came out of the ice. So I just.. Don't know what to expect."

Your brows raise in surprise, "Oh.. Okay.. I see.. Would you.. Would you rather wait? Because we can-"

"No!" He immediately exclaims, making you giggle at his eagerness. It lightens the tension a little, a smile working its way onto his face, "No, I don't want to wait, but I do want you to tell me if I'm hurting you. I don't want to hurt you. So please tell me if you want to stop at any point."

You nod, a slight worry running through you that you do your best to hide, "Okay, I promise. I'll tell you to stop if it hurts."

Steve nods, placing a kiss on your forehead before he pulls back to lean on his haunches again. You raise your upper body a little, leaning on your elbows as you watch him shyly unwrap the towel from his waist.

You don't even notice when he tosses it on the floor because your eyes are transfixed by what was just revealed to you.

Your mouth gapes open as you look at his cock, so much thicker and larger than any cock you've ever seen in your entire fucking life.

Considering Steve's size, it doesn't seem that crazy, but considering how massive he is compared to you, you suddenly realize why he was hesitant about this.

You clamp your mouth shut once you realize you've been gawking at his dick, your eyes darting up to meet his.

His brows are furrowed slightly, his expression worried as he waits for you to speak.

"That's-" you hesitate, quickly glancing down at his cock again before you look at his face, "That's a.. That's a really big dick."

Steve snorts out a surprised laugh at your wording, his tense form easing up a little and making you giggle as well.

He swipes a hand through his hair, shaking his head in amusement when his baby blues find you again, "You really do say things without thinking, huh?"

You shrug, tilting your head when your gaze travels down his body to focus on the massive member between his thighs, "Sometimes I get.. Overwhelmed."

He smirks, watching as you keep your eyes on his cock, and he's not disappointed when your teeth dig into your bottom lip right as he wraps one of his large hands around the base of it.

He pumps it leisurely, watching how you swallow thickly, before he husks out, "Sweetheart, you have no idea how much I want – no, fucking need – to be inside you."

Your eyes immediately flit up to his, your thighs instinctively spreading as you reply, "Just be gentle with me, Captain."

Steve suppresses the low growl building in his chest as his title rolls off your tongue, his fist squeezing the base of his cock to calm himself.

"I promise," he replies, leaning over you again as he keeps his fist wrapped around his cock, "I promise to always be gentle with you."

You lie back and reach up to cup his face, your breath hitching when he rubs the thick mushroom head of his cock between your folds, spreading around your juices. You tilt your hips a little, spreading your thighs as wide as they can go, holding searing eye contact when his tip catches on your entrance.

He breaches your hole, slowly pushing inside and forcing your walls to stretch around him, and you can immediately tell it's going to be a tight fit.

Apparently, Steve can too, because he instantly lets out a choked, "Oh shit, you're so tight baby, fuck."

Your brows furrow a little, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you try to focus on relaxing around him, helping him inside, a whine bubbling up in your throat when he manages to push the tip inside you.

"You okay?" he whispers breathlessly, eyes watching you intensely, "I can pull out if you-"

"Fuck no," you breathe out, wide eyes holding his, "Don't you fucking stop, keep g-going."

Steve hesitates, but you don't give him a chance to consider his options when you pull his face down to you, your lips taking his as your hands slide down his back.

He grunts into your mouth, instinctively pushing deeper inside you in response, and it makes you let out a loud moan against his lips.

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing, his wide girth stretching you beyond your wildest dreams. Every time you think he's fully inside, he gives you a little more, and it knocks the breath from your lungs when he finally pushes fully inside, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

You whimper, and Steve groans lowly, his lips not letting up as they move over yours. Your fingers dig into his shoulders when his hips pull back only to push forward again, your entire body jolting in response.

He sets off a slow pace, doing his best to be gentle, and it helps you relax a bit, the stinging gradually turning into pleasure.

"Fuck," you cry when he tucks his face into your neck, leaning his entire heavy weight on top of you as he starts rutting into you more eagerly, "Oh god, Stevie, fuck."

Steve moans into your ear, his hot breath on your skin, voice breathless, "Fuck-oh shit-oh my god, you're so tight. God you feel so good, oh fuck."

You mewl, nails raking down his back when his hips pick up pace, his heavy grunts only spurring you on.

"Shit, you're sucking me right back in whenever I try to pull out. You're so tight sweetheart, but your pussy just keeps sucking me in. You're squeezing me so fucking tight, I'm not gonna be able to last long."

You let out breathy moans, quickly turning whinier when his cock throbs against your walls, the tip of his cock continuously rubbing against that spongy spot inside you.

You can't focus on anything other than the pleasure shooting through your body, his thick cock dragging against your walls as he fucks into you, reaching deeper than anyone you've ever been with before.

"Stevie, oh, 'm gonna cum, gonna cum, ah!"

Steve growls at your words, suddenly swiveling his hips, and it makes you cry out as you get thrown into a climax so unusual to what you've felt before. You've never been able to come just from sex, and the sensation is different than you're used to, but it makes your body wind tight and burn deliciously, a euphoria crashing over you in waves.

Steve feels it when every emotion floods your body, and he feels when you come around him, your walls squeezing him like a vice.

He lets out a shout, his hips pushing flush against yours as he whimpers against your neck, his warmth flooding your insides.

You let out a pathetic sound as you slowly come back down from your high, your fingers gently stroking his back as Steve pants against your skin.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving a few soft kisses while he trails up to your jaw.

Your fingers slide into his hair, smiling softly when he pulls back a little to look at you, and then you both let out a giddy laugh as you look at each other.

"That was pretty fucking amazing," you whisper breathlessly, "Why did we wait so long to do that?"

Steve chuckles, pecking your lips before he whispers against them, "I don't know. But don't worry, we'll never have to again. Just give me five minutes and I'll be ready for round two."

"Okay," You smile, twirling a blonde strand of hair around your finger, "But while we wait, will you tell me about what your life was like in the past?"

Steve's smile turns shy, "You want to know about that?"

You nod determinedly, giving yourself to the baby blues swallowing you up, "I want to know every single thing about you."

1K notes · View notes

thisbipuff-isaswiftie · 2 years

Note

Hey there 🤓

I just wanted to ask if you could write an imagine about Chris x female reader? Like the get to know each other on set - she is working there as a make up artist or something and asks him for a favor being her date for family dinner (the fam isn’t very easy) and at the end of working together on set he kisses her at a party in front of everybody? Oder something like that?

Lots of love

Laura

Sure!!! Thanks for the request, Laura!!!!!

Maybe this is a little different than your request but bear with me. And this might be a bit shitty, I'm sorry.

—————

To Pretend, Or Not To Pretend | Chris Evans

Requested by - @lauraailin

"I want to watch butterflies sit on sunflowers with you~"

Warning: Swearing. Kissing, Angst. Boners. talks of sex. Flirting. Long, like really really long.

Containing: Angst, Fluff too. Friends to lovers. Co-workers to lovers. Shy!Reader, Captain America!Chris, Fake dating! au.

(ok but he is so hot in this GIF)

A normal day at work. Chris sighed as he got in the elevator, a coffee in his hand and the other one in his pocket. He smiled at everybody crossing him, and rolled his eyes at Robert's everyday morning text. Routine for Chris Evans. And a light up in his morning was looking at you.

You were well, you.

The person he loves to share his donuts with, and try weird food combinations with. You were the person that he would make his mission to make smile. And that smile would always make his heart flip. It wasn't really hard to make you smile, but it was easier to make you blush. And, god, did you look beautiful.

Chris chuckled as he saw you running from one place to another, your chestnut hair falling on your eyes. He liked how hard you worked, and you were independent. How you smelled of coffee beans and roses. He walked towards you, and quickly caught you, as you were losing balance. "Hey, beautiful."

You blushed and looked upwards to see your bearded friend. He helped you gain your balance again and held you. "Um, hi." You said in your sweet voice. Chris grinned at you. "How are you?" He asked you, throwing his cup in the garbage can. "I'm good," You said as you watched him, throw it and lead you by your waist. "I'm glad." He said and smiled towards you. Your eyes beamed shyly at him as he studied your face. "What?" you asked him, not really used to the attention he was giving you.

He cleared his throat, "Nothing."

He put a strand of hair behind your ear, and then smiled at you again. How do his cheeks not hurt? "Have a nice day, honey. And are we still on for the ice cream today?"

"I'm in mood for a frozen bottle mood than ice cream, is that alright?" You asked shyly. He rested his hand on the crook of your neck. "That's perfect for me," You smiled at him and giggled, and he swore his heart stopped as his cheeks turned red. "I-I'll see you at 5. I'll come towards your station."

"That's not really-"

"Hey, I want to. Besides, I love to see you work." You shyly looked up at him and blushed. "Really?" He just beamed at you. "Bye, honey."

"Bye." You whispered as he kissed your forehead.

.....

You were listening to your boss explain how he wants the face to be, how it should look in which angle, giving you an idea where to put a good amount of body glitter and where to tone it down. You looked at the actress you were assigned to, Chloe Bennett. You smiled back at her as she smiled at you. She was new at this, but she was very professional. You liked her. How could anyone not? She was pretty and beautiful, definitely did not stutter or shy away like you, and always fit in. Your heart sank in the pit of your stomach as you heard that degrading voice again.

She's the kind of person Chris would go out with.

You sighed as you remembered him.

You met Chris when you were new to the crew. They just started filming Captain America: Winter Soldier. You were the makeup artist assigned to Scarlet, and Chris was always in her trailer, and you never knew why. Scarlet would always give him looks; as if to tell 'i know why you're here but i am sick of you'. He used to make conversation with you and you used to give shy replies. But you never knew why he took an interest in you.

You were just a boring person who never talked out loud or was never wild. And nobody ever took an interest in you. But ever since that assignment, Chris was always around you. He was there when you were assigned to Gwyneth during Iron Man 3. And it was a wonder to you, how he got your number.

You were also wildly clumsy. That's how you got yourself embarrassed in front of him. Somehow, he was always there to catch you when you used slip from running from one trailer to another when they needed you. This job was hectic for you, but you still loved it.

And that was also another reason why you never met your family. Which gave your family another reason to tease you for not dating or not getting a boyfriend.

You hated how your mum would talk with you about how you needed to get married and how that cousin is getting married. You loathed how the aunts would talk about you harshly, even when you were right in front of them. You despised the way your brother would bully you in front of the whole family. The only person who would not talk about it, would be your father. He understood and never pried you about it, and you were so grateful for it.

He knew how it would get your anxiety up and running.

Number 189126th reason why you hated family functions. And one was coming close. Your brother, Luke, was getting married. You didn't want to go, as you had to face relentless comments on 'Look at her, she's not getting any younger.' and 'She is chubby. No wonder she can't get a boy.', and sympathetic looks that you hated the most.

You looked at your watch and sighed. It was almost 5. You became more nervous and your cheeks turned warm as you remembered the person you were supposed to meet. You had a crush on Chris, of course you did. I mean, he is the Chris Evans. He was literally everything a girl or a boy could actually ask for.

He was handsome, sweet and kind, and he had a hell of an ass.

But you were painfully aware, that he could never like you more than a friend.

.....

"What's got you down?"

"Huh?"

You were dumbfounded, snapped out of your thoughts. "I'm sorry, were you saying something?" You asked in your sweet, low voice. Chris looked at you with concern in his eyes. He sucked and licked his finger off, and threw the paper that was wrapped around his sub in the garbage can. "Are you okay? You've been zoned out for half the time." He stated, and your neck turned red again as you looked up at him again. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Well, um." She looked at Chris with hesitation in her actions, "My brother's wedding is coming up, and, well, I hate family functions."

Chris laughed at your directness. "Most people do."

"They pester me relentlessly!"

"About-"

"Well, you know about being single. Why can't I get a boyfriend or something, it's annoying and gets my self-esteem really low for the next whole month."

"Yeah, family can be like that." He studied your face, "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" He asked you. You blushed again, and your stomach turned and twisted nervously. I guess I was waiting for you.

I still am.

"Chris!" You whined. He grinned and gestured you to tell. "Wait, and please don't say work," You shook your head. "Fine I won't say work."

"Let's just say I was busy to think about such things because of my schedule filled with activities that earn me money-?'

Chris rolled his eyes playfully, and you giggled. "And, by the way who would want to date a person who hates attention, and is unbearably shy? Besides, I'm boring! I'm not wild or anything, I hate going to parties and-"

"So? That's what makes you, you." You looked at him with a confused expression. "It what makes you different. I-In a good way. I mean, we don't always want to dance at parties and grind on each other, sometimes-" He glanced at you, "Sometimes, we want to lay on the grass and watch butterflies sit on sunflowers." You looked at him, stunned. You blushed furiously as you found yourself under his intense gaze again. He smiled at you, and you just stared at him.

"thanks?" you said, shyly.

"Sorry," He said and nervously chuckled. "It just came out. I just wanted to say that you are awesome and anybody would be lucky to date you." You giggled and kissed his cheek. He froze, as his cheeks reddened. "You're too sweet."

Chris gaped at you. You're too beautiful.

"Anyway," you stole a glance at Chris, "It's going to be hell. Every relative is going to like interrogate me, make fun of me. Why? Because I haven't got a man. I mean, how stupid is that!?

"But it won't hurt to have someone, you know? Someone to show off to my family, someone that would prevent me from getting bullied by my sisters and brothers." You rambled on. You looked at Chris, who was gaping at you. "I'm sorry." You said, your cheeks reddening again as you realized how much you babbled. "It's okay. You're my friend."

And I love listening to your voice.

You resisted the urge to wince at 'friend'.

"Um, I have an idea." You stared at Chris, who grew nervous. "Yeah?" You asked him. "Tell me," You urged him on. "How about I'll be your boyfriend?" He asked, his voice going low. But you heard him perfect making your ears red, and look up at him, shocked. "W-What?" You whispered. "Well, you know. We'll fake it, so you won't be troubled."

Of course. Fake it. "Mhmm, that'll be nice." you forced out, your heart aching. You didn't know why you were being so emotional. You expected this, didn't you? But, it still hurt. You had to get out of there as you felt your nose getting redder and your eyes starting to sting. "I'll tell you tomorrow, hm? It actually sounds nice. I've to go, seriously, Chloe's waiting."

"Oh yeah, sure."

"Bye, Chris." You hesitantly hugged him, burying your head in his shoulder, taking his scent in. "Thank you for the offer." You whispered and kissed his cheek again, as he you felt him kissing your temple. "Bye, Honey." You smiled at him and walked back.

.....

"Faking it?"

"Mhmm." You hummed back. "Oh come on, why can't you see it? He likes you!" Your face twisted in an outrageous 'the fuck you talkin' about' expression. "El, stop."

"I'm not joking, okay?" You stared at Elizabeth through the laptop screen. "What? Who'll take up the opportunity to be someone's fake boyfriend so that her family will get off her back?"

"Um, I don't know," You raised your eyebrows. "Good friends who care for each other?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "...and love each other." she mumbled. "Oh come on!" You threw your head back. "Look, Olsen. He's never going to like me! I mean i'm-"

"Okay, stop, you idiot. Do you remember what he said to you?"

"That doesn't-!"

"Just tell me what he told you again!"

"Sometimes, we want to lay on the grass and watch butterflies sit on sunflowers"

"Yes. Those are the words of a man who has no romantic feelings towards the person he's saying it to." You rolled your eyes, but your whole face was on fire. Was it possible?

No, God-

"Stop criticizing yourself, okay? You're fucking beautiful, and you know it." You looked down as you stuffed your stuff into your bag. "Thanks." You said, lowly. "Come on!" You looked at Elizabeth, her face had softened. "Let's go out today!" You raised your eyebrows at her. "No.'"

She whined, "Please!"

"We'll go that nightclub your brother's always talking about. Come on! Please. You need a break, okay?"

You sighed and slightly rubbed the bridge of your nose. You did need a break. You sighed, "Fine."

"Yay!"

.....

You weren't supposed to be drunk. You were supposed to take care of Elizabeth. But here you were, stumbling through the bar as you called a cab. Elizabeth..found someone. Someone you obviously did not approve of, but well, she's Elizabeth Olsen. She can handle herself. So you got yourself out. You had no interest in watching sweaty bodies dancing as highly idiotic songs with the most exhausting lyrics playing the background. "Taxi!" You yelled. You were tired.

You felt more than discouraged.

Weren't you enough? Why weren't you like everybody? Why weren't you wild? You groaned loudly and kicked the pavement. Instead of dancing at parties while gulping down vodka shots, you liked drinking lattes while surfing through Barnes & Noble or watching Modern Family while drawing mandala art. You sat down on the ground, and looked around.

Well, you were going to be wild.

Just this time, maybe just maybe, you'll feel like you belong. Maybe you won't get pestered by your family. So you took out your phone and fiddled with it.

Hey, Chris.

I've thought about it, and sure, you'd do me a big favor by being my boyfriend :).

.....

You woke up in a messy bed with a weird bed sheet. You turned around quickly, wincing as you felt your brain freezing as the headache crept in. Where were you? You squinted your eyes as you felt the harsh sunshine hitting you. Groaning, you got up and looked around. Awfully familiar. Fortunately, you spotted an aspirin and a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. You reached for the pill, and sighed. Gulping, you got out of the covers. God, what were you wearing. Fucking uncomfortable.

You looked on the floor, and found your phone. You picked up it, and narrowed your eyes as you found weird texts. Great! :)

From Chris.

Your eyes widened in panic, and you quickly went to chats. What was great? What was he talking about? Your heart was racing and your mind was panicking. You took in a deep breath and entered the chat.

I've thought about it, and sure, you'd do me a big favor by being my boyfriend :)

Oh dear god.

No, no. No.

"Oh, hey! You're awake!" You jumped as you looked ahead and saw a blonde guy. Now, you were confused as hell. Wait the fuck up. You didn't do anything, did you? But all your clothes were on. You chuckled nervously, "Yeah! I woke up. Uhm-Who-Who are you?" The guy laughed. "Oh, um. I'm here with Elizabeth."

You made an "oh" face as realization hit you. "I'm Dave. Dave Johnson." He held an hand out. You shook it, reluctantly. "Um where is El?"

"Oh! She's in the toilet." You nodded and jumped through the messy bedroom and went right in front of the bathroom. "Elizabeth?" You whispered, as your neck turned red. "Yeah?" She replied back, loudly. "Uhmm, I have a problem. Kind of a big one."

"What kind of a problem?"

"A Chris problem."

You gasped as you felt her hand grasping your forearm, and pulling you in. "Elizabeth-!"

"What kind of a Chris problem?" She asked frantically. You gulped and showed her the text, you studied her face as she read them. "Wait-Didn't you say that you were gonna say no?"

"I drunkenly texted him last night!" You said, and put your hand on your forehead. "You'd do me a big favor by being my boyfriend?" Elizabeth snorted, and giggled. You slapped your hands on her shoulder as she squealed. "Hey! Hey! STOP!" You gasped and stopped and narrowed your eyes at her angrily. "What am I gonna do?" You said. "God, I knew going to that going to that nightclub was a bad idea! This your fault, your fault!" You yelled angrily.

"Wait-Oh my god, stop rambling. Listen! Look at this the good way, your family might actually stop teasing you! And your mother will stop pestering you about marriage!" You looked at her, your forehead pinching, as you realized she was right. "But-"

"No! Okay. Try something like this for once, please. Maybe something actually might happen." She wiggled her eyebrows. You rolled your eyes, "Nothing's gonna happen, okay? But, fine." Elizabeth squealed. "Yes! Go get some!"

You turned red again. "Shut up! And by the way, speaking of getting some," you cleared your throat. "Who's the blonde Dave out there?" You quietly giggled as you saw her blush, "Did you both-?"

"No! I mean-no. We found you in my bed, when we came home. Yes, we were about to have sex, but we didn't. He helped me placing you neatly, and then we had coffee and talked on the sofa." She said, her voice shy. "All night?"

"All night."

You smiled.

.....

"Hey!" You froze as you heard the voice you loved the most, yet it was the voice that you dreaded hearing the most today. "Honey!"

You blushed at the nickname and turned around. You looked at him and smiled, your cheeks turned more of a furious red when he grinned at your smile. He had such a beautiful smile. "Hi," He said and looked at you somewhat shyly. "Hey," you said softly. Chris' heart was beating harder, oh how he loved hearing your wondrous voice. It always made him soft and fuzzy from the inside. "So," he took a deep breath. He was nervous. He took a risky step, suggesting that they create a ruse. A ruse that held them dating so that your family will get off your back. It was an honest idea; just so her family will leave her alone.

But it also felt like....like an opportunity. A chance that maybe she will also like him back, or maybe it was his one chance at being her boyfriend, being her partner, to love her, to hold her, to be hers. Even if it was all fake, perhaps this was his only opportunity. It still ached.

"You said yes!" He exclaimed as if she had truly given him a chance to date her. You looked at him nervously, groaning on the inside. Honestly, those blues of his can be the cruelest. "Mhmm," you hummed back giving him your most happy smile. His blue eyes can make you do anything. They were mesmerizing. Yet they were also intimidating for you. Those blues would dominate your thoughts so easily. How could you tell him that you couldn't do this?

"When is the wedding exactly?" He asked you, as he continued to walk you down to your department. "Uhm," you cleared your throat. "Next weekend. If that's okay for you?" you asked him. "That's aweso-I mean, yeah i'm good." You softly giggled at his mixed reply. "Okay," you said as you looked at him adoringly.

"I'll have to tell them that i'm bringing someone." You rolled your eyes, "That's going to be.....ughhhh." You groaned. You could practically picture how it was going to be. But your thoughts were averted when you felt Chris' hand on your shoulder and felt his breath on your ear. "Maybe we can start our ruse then." You raise your eyebrow at that, but he just grins.

.....

"What are you going to do?" You asked him again and again. But he just dismissed you with a mischievous grin and a 'trust me' or a kiss on your cheek. You were at your home and ready to video call our brother. "You ready?" Chris asked, his voice masked with playfulness. You shrugged your shoulders and looked at him with sheer boredom.

"Kay'." You called them on your laptop and took in a deep breath, bracing for teasing that will probably result in a mental breakdown or the most agonizing overthinking session in the middle of night. "Hey there, sis!" your brother greeted you. You laughed nervously, "Hey." you said back. "So, why did you call? I mean besides that you're alone, and you have no one to talk to? Hehe." He joked, but it still hurt you. "Um, about that-"

"You must be so miserable, watching actors flirt with someone that is not you." He laughed again, you looked around, uncomfortable. You were already feeling like crying. Your brother was teasing you about how pathetic you were in front of your crush. "Yeah, so why did you call?" He continued as your voice already died in your throat.

Chris raised his eyebrows, how can your brother be so rude to you? He knew this was making you upset, he could see through you so easily. "About my seating? Yeah, um-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know you're coming alone, no need to tell me again." He said, rolling his eyes. You flinched but continued on. "No, about that, Luke. I'm bringing someone." You sighed as you waited for the retorts and the jokes that would hurt you to the core. But all that you were greeted with was silence. Deafening silence. Chris waited for your brother's reply in the kitchen, craning his neck.

Your breath trembled because the silence was more undermining and pathetic. "Are you serious?" Your brother asked you, his voice astonished. God, you were so pathetic. You sighed again, and nodded and smiled. "Oh my god!!!" Your brother started laughing. Your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach. You looked at him with glossy eyes, that were serious. "Wait-!" He studied your face, "Y-You're serious?" He asked you and you nodded. "No you can't be!" He said.

That was Chris' cue.

"Hey, honey! What did you want for lunch? I could make something or do you wanna order takeout?" He asked you loudly, so that your brother would hear him. Your spine froze and you saw your video on the call and saw Chris walking without a shirt on in the kitchen. Your brother squinted and looked behind you. Your cheeks turned a furious red as you stared aghast at Chris. That was his plan?

"Who the fuck is that?"

Chris turned around and saw you on the call. He pretended to be surprised and came walking towards you. Hotness consumed your whole body, as he came closer and closer. "Oh, you finally called! She can be very forgetful, can't she?" He asked your brother, who was dumbfounded, looking at very sculptured Chris. He put his arm around you and pulled you into his chest. You were sure that you looked like the apple that you dressed up as at your school's annual gathering. "Um, y-yeah I guess-guess-" Your brother stuttered.

"I like, had to remind her so many times to call you." He feigned his kindness towards your brother. Your brother was speechless, and couldn't say anything. Chris internally smirked at his state. "Hi, I'm Chris Evans." He introduced himself. Your brother visibly gulped, "Y-Yeah I know you, you're a," he cleared his throat. "You're a very talented actor." Chris grinned, "Thanks."

"So, I guess it's clear that we're gonna need two seats, right next to each other, obviously."

"Mhmm." Your brother hummed as a reply. "I'll get on that."

"Thank you," Chris said as you mumbled a 'thank you' too. "Your sister is wonderful, she's the most beautiful person ever," Chris kissed your cheek and lingered over there. "Hang in there." He mumbled to you, quietly. You just nodded, but you were getting comfortable in his chest and snuggled more. "We'll see you at the wedding!" Chris said.

You get up from your position, unwillingly obviously, and looked at your brother looking between you. "Bye." You said, and ended the call. You were unsure about what to do now. You slowly turned to be met with a Chris with his playful smile on. You grinned shyly. This felt...awesome. To watch your brother's face dumbfounded. "Wow." you said, and chuckled. "That was...great." you said, looking at Chris, who still had his hand around your waist, pulling you close.

"I know." He said proudly and looked at you. You looked at him-no, you beamed at him with adorableness. He blushed as he got caught under your gaze. "Actually, that was awesome!" You said out loud, but turned red again when you realized what you did. "I mean-I've never seen my brother so, so-"

"Captain-ed." Chris said slyly, and you raised your eyebrow.

"Did you make that up, or some guy tweeted it?"

"I...made that up." He sighed. You shook your head and chuckled. "How about this? For that special treat, I owe you." you offered. "Oh, you're gonna regret that.." Chris said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Am i?" you said with a confident smile. "I want your special vanilla pancakes and your L/N's special bacon for breakfast," He said, and you rolled your eyes. "Oh come on!" You whined.

"Please," He begged you and pouted. You blushed again, suddenly acknowledging the fact that he was still very shirtless, and just nodded. You walked towards your kitchen and bit your lip. Chris just scratched his neck and stared at you cooking. You always looked so...mesmerizing when you worked. The way your so tempting, so kissable lips turned red as you bit them down, and eyes would go wide when you concentrate hard. You would look so bloody gorgeous. It made him distract and he would just dive deep down into...well, you.

Chris sighed and fixed his beautiful blue hues on your figure that worked swiftly.

You were making the batter for your pancake when you realized that Chris was staring at you with his eyes that held a weird expression. You couldn't make out what exactly he was feeling, but you blushed furiously under his daze. You cleared your throat and looked at him with a somehow hopeful feeling. Chris snapped out of his daze and realized you were staring at him. His heart pounded against his chest, and he thought that you were thinking about what a weirdo he was. He scratched his nape and looked at the ground. "Sorry," He mumbled, and you just smiled, your eyes sparkling. "It's alright." You said, your voice shy. "Can I help you?" He asked.

"Um," You looked around the counter, "You know what, could you stir the batter, while I go freshen myself?" You asked, and he just nodded and walked towards you. You tried to take your apron off, but the tie was jumbled and you couldn't get hold of it. You groaned and turned around, but your heart almost leaped out of your chest when you saw Chris standing right in front of you.

Standing very close to you.

He looked down at you, and you swallowed, feeling intimidated by his height. Your eyes glanced up at him, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. "You need any help?" You just nodded, not realizing that his voice went down to a whisper. You glanced at him again, heat rising in both of your bodies, as you turned again.

Chris gulped as he saw the back of your sundress, you looked so beautiful. His fingers brushed down at your back and you gasped softly. Your stomach took leaps, that you internally begged for to stop, as one of his hands grasped your waist gently and pulled you a little close. Chris glanced at your reflection from the fridge in front of you, he exhaled deeply and slowly started to pull a strand and release the tie. He looked at your neck intently as he heard you sigh when you felt his breath on your neck.

You breathed in when he was done, and stood still for a few seconds, and then twisted again. Your eyes didn't dare to glance at him, and you gulped again. You took of your apron and kept it on the counter, "Thank you," you whispered. You stepped away from him to your room.

"Fuck." Chris whispered to himself, as you were out of the kitchen. What was happening to them? He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the bowl full of batter.

While you quickly closed your door and rested your head against it. You sighed and bit your lip as you allowed your eyes to stare at the ceiling.

This was really going to be interesting.

.....

"Did you take everything?" Elizabeth yelled from the other room. You chuckled to yourself and rolled your eyes. "Yes mom!" you said cockily. "Well, don't blame me when you forget your only comfortable bra!" She said and you sighed.

Clothes for 4 days. Check.

Toiletries. Check.

Passport. Check.

Book to read. Check.

Being in love with Chris Evans. Check.

You closed your eyes and rolled your neck. Why was this happening to you? Why couldn't you have a normal life and not be in love with a celebrity who does not like you?

You checked your watch, 4.25.

You turned your head when you heard El walking in. She clapped her hands and looked at the bag, "You need help closing it?" You shook your head. She sighed and plopped down on your bed. Her eyes landed on your concerned face. "Hey," She took your hand. "Everything's going to be fine, don't worry." You smiled and nodded. "So," She emphasized on the 'o'. You narrowed your eyes at her. "What?"

"Nothing. Just wondering when your knight in shining armor will arrive." She said nonchalantly, you rolled your eyes. "I told you to stop calling him that!" She grinned. "What? He is your knight in shining armor! Look at how he jumped up to help you! And he's also picking you up....."

You sat down on your bed. "I told him that he doesn't need to do that." You told her, "And what did he say?" She asked, tauntingly.

"What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I wouldn't?" You mumbled quietly. "What? I couldn't hear you?" You rolled your eyes. "He said, what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I wouldn't!" You lied down on the bed and stared at your fan. "When is your flight again?"

"5.15."

"-and when is he coming?" You raised your eyebrows and gestured to the door when you both hear the doorbell ring. "He's here." You say, secretly smirking. She rolled her eyes and got up. You went and opened the door, and smiled at Chris who smiled at you too. "Come in," You invite him and let him inside. You closed the door, and walked towards the door. "You done packing?" He asked. "Obviously." you said cockily.

He chuckled and took off his sunglasses. He looked at you, scanning his eyes up and down. You turned red. He smiled and checked your new blue jumpsuit, you looked really cute. And sexy. Chris' ear turned pink, and he quickly brushed off the thought. But he still kept staring you, making your heart race under his gaze again. Why did he always look at you like that?

You were both interrupted by a cough. You played with your toes while Chris snapped his neck at the voice. "Okay, you two lovebirds. You should get going." Chris eyebrows scrunched and you giggled quietly. He looked so adorable like that. Chris smiled at your giggle but still kept looking at the person that interrupted his daze. "Elizabeth?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me. Now don't you wanna get along?" She said, impatiently. "El!" You scolded her while walking towards your room. You shook your head at your bag still open on your bed. You really needed help with that. You nervously scratched your neck. "Chris!" You called him. "Yeah honey?" He came and looked at you and then glanced at the bag. Nodding his head, he came towards you and gestured for you to do something that you didn't understand. "What?" He shook his head and suddenly grasped your waist with both his hands and lifted you up and settled you on the bag. You squealed and quickly put your hands around his neck. He sighed sharply and you looked at how close our faces were.

Coughing, you looked down as he moved away a bit. You looked up again and smiled sweetly at him. "Knees towards your chest." He instructed and you laughed while doing the same. He pulled your chain and closed the bag, and suddenly lifted you up again, while you wrapped your hands around his neck again. You softly giggled and kissed his nose as he blushed. "Shall we?" He asked and took your hand. You nodded and lifted your bag.

"I thought you guys took a little detour," Elizabeth stated loudly. "Shut up Olsen!" You both yelled in unison. She just put both of her hands up in surrender.

He led towards the car and you drove off to the airport.

.....

"Please return to your seats, and fasten your belts. We're about to land in 20 mins. Thank you."

You looked away from the window and turned your eyes on Chris. He was asleep, with his goggles lopsided on his nose. You giggled quietly at him and tapped his nose and he woke up, startled. "Good morning." You said and giggled quietly. He just groaned again and kept his head on your shoulder and closed his eyes again. You smiled sweetly and nudged him with your shoulder. "Huh?" He hummed. "We're about to land," You said. But he just whined and snuggled his head more into your shoulder. You chuckled and kissed his forehead making him blush. "Come on, you can sleep on the way home." You said and he mumbled a small 'okay' making you giggle again.

You turned your head back to your window and gazed over the fields.

The sun was stalking over the beautiful marigold fields that you remembered you took your picnics to. You gasped as you saw some familiar streets as the plane lowered slowly. You came rarely here, so it never ceased to excite you even though you spent years of your childhood here. You sighed and looked forward as the plane was about to touch the ground again. "Hey," You heard Chris whisper.

"Hey." You whispered back. "Happy to be back home?" He asked you, his voice low. You shrugged and breathed in. "Kinda." He smiled and kissed your temple. You leaned in his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You were just not ready for the rollercoaster ahead of you.

.....

You could feel prying eyes as you walked towards your front door. You just knew that your brother had gloated to your mother and she was probably waiting for you. You sighed and walked on your front porch, and looked back, waiting for Chris. He smiled at you and jogged towards you, he kissed your forehead and walked towards the door with you. "You ready?" You nodded and heavily knocked on the door. You internally scoffed when the door opened instantly. "Hello!" Your mom greeted you. "Hi." You said and smiled weakly.

"Hello there." Your mom went towards Chris. Chris chuckled nervously, and awkwardly waved at her. "Well come on in!" She said and opened the door wide. You pulled your bag with you, but Chris intervened. "Let me take it, honey." He said but you just shook your head. He kissed your cheek again making you blush harder, as he took your bag as well as his. Your mom raised your eyebrows as you became shy.

You took off your scarf and hung it on the stand. Chris expectantly with lips pressed against each other. "Oh!" You exclaimed. "Right, down the hall, second room on the left. He nodded and sprinted, as you giggled. As he disappeared from the scene, your mom stepped towards you. "He's..well, let's not be modest, he's hot. How'd you nail him?"

"Mom!" You said, embarrassed. "What?" She said and shrugged. You shook your head, "Where's dad?" You mumbled. "Dad!!" You called. "I'm right here, pumpkin." You grinned as you saw your dad come in with a beer in his hand. "Dad!!!" You hugged him tightly.

"Hi, sweetheart."

You pulled back but then rest your head on his chest again. "I heard that you have a guy now? hmm?" You playfully rolled your eyes. "Be nice." You whispered. "Yeah, we don't wanna drive him away. This might be the last chance she gets a boyfriend, I mean she's not getting any prettier." Your mom spoke up. You gulped down the urge to cry your eyes out right there as your heart clenched. Your dad was about to retort but you pulled him back. You smiled weakly at your dad who rubbed your shoulders to comfort you. Chris came in his hands rubbing each other.

Your dad raised his eyebrows at him. You cleared your throat and got out of your father's embrace as he fold his arms and went towards Chris. "Mom, Dad." You said and looked at Chris, who smiled so lovingly at you. "This is my boyfriend, Chris Evans." You announced and sighed as Chris slipped his hand around your waist. You smiled at him and he leaned to kiss your cheek. "So you're the one who's trying to win my daughter?" Your dad asked and you rolled your eyes. "Dad-"

"Well, guess what hotshot. She's not an object to win, got it?" Chris nodded. "Yes sir." He said. He smiled proudly when your father put his hand out for him to shake. Chris grabbed his hand and they shook, firmly. Your dad nodded in approval. "Good grip." You bit your lip as you saw Chris' hand, his big hand. It's so larger than yours, but it still fits perfectly. You blush as Chris links his hand with yours.

"Come on, I need help with dinner."

"Oh, I'll help you!" Chris volunteered. Your mom raised her eyebrows again. "He's a great cook, mom. And I'm sure he'll not spoil your mashed potatoes secret." Your mom nodded and gestured for Chris to come with her. You giggled as you heard her say, "I just put some vodka in it, and they think its some kind of family secret I've been keeping."

You knew that Chris was going to fit just right.

.....

You settled in your bedroom and looked at the room. It had been so long since you've been here. You grinned as you saw all your posters that you hung up, the small song quotes you wrote on the wall, and the doodles that you drew on the desk when you were bored.

"Wow," You jumped when you heard him say that. You didn't notice him there, "Sorry if I startled you, honey." He said and held your shoulders from behind. "What was the 'wow' for?"

"Well," he chuckled. "I'm in the y/n's room!"

"The? I would add the 'The' if I was in your room!"

Chris shook his head and roamed around in your room. He chuckled at the small bed. Wait. There were gonna have to sleep together in the small bed. Chris cleared his throat. He imagined what it would be, cuddling you while sleeping, waking up to you and your bushy morning hair. Your scent stuck to the pillow-

"So you'll be sleeping here?" Your mom came in. You blushed at the thought of you both sleeping together. "Well, yeah." Chris said and shrugged. "Okay." She said, "Dinner's ready in 30 mins. And your brother's fiance is coming."

"Oh, great!" You said. You've been wanting to meet her, but never had the chance to, obviously. Your brother never told you about her. He blames it on you, of course, but sometimes you feel bad about being so busy. She goes leaving you both alone. "So..."

"So..."

"You wanna unpack?" You both say in unison. You both laugh awkwardly and just nod at each other. "Come on, I'll help you." Chris offered when he saw you struggling at picking up your bags. "Here you go." He strained as you both lifted your bag up.

"We're staying for just four days, what have you got in here? It's so heavy?" He asked as he sat down on the bed. You giggled at his question, and moved closer to him. He feigned being tired and you smiled at him, putting a strand of his hair back when it lands on his eyes. "Nothing, it's just gifts. For the family." You said and sighed. Chris looked at you as you played with honey brown hair. He inhaled sharply as he felt your hand going through his hair. He stared right in front of him, your waist coming in his eye level. He slid his arms around your waist and rested his head on your waist/stomach. You sighed calmly, but your heart was thudding against your chest so loudly. Chris snuggled more into your warmth and you giggled quietly.

"Still tired, are we?" You asked, your voice low.

Chris just nodded into your stomach and you chuckled again. "Okay." You whispered and kissed his head. Chris was just relieved that his face was hidden because he was looking like a tomato. He gripped your waist tighter, when you tried wiggle out. "Come on, you sleep for 20 mins, I'll go freshen up." Chris whined and moved his head side to side.

You rested your chin on his head. "okay. Then what do you want to do?"

Chris effortlessly picked you up as you silently squealed. He layed down on the bed and laid you down on his body. You looked up to him, "Are you sure this isn't uncomfortable for you?" You asked him, but he just mouthed 'nope'. You then rested your head on his chest, but were startled when he slightly jumped. You looked up again, your forehead pinching. He gulped, "I mean we can move if you're uncomfortable."

You just rested your head on his chest again and sighed, your eyes closing. You felt him relaxing and you slightly smiled and snuggled more into him. Chris smiled and closed his eyes too, breathing in your scent. You yawned as you felt slumber coming to you while you listened to Chris' calm heart beating.

.....

You came out of the bathroom carefully, not wanting to wake up Chris. You bit your lip from smiling when you saw him sleeping on your bed, he looked so cute. "Wow, you are smitten." You jumped and looked in the direction the voice came from. "Oh, I didn't you were here." You said shyly.

"We came here 5 mins ago. Mom was wondering how much time it was taking you, so she sent me." You nodded at his answer. You smiled and looked at him, "So? How's the missus?"

"Not yet. God, I can't wait anymore." He said. You chuckled. "Look who's smitten now." He shook his head and looked at you as you combed your hair. "no, but seriously. How did you nail him?" He asked, and you nervously looked down. "I was his make-up artist, I am his make-up artist. We came closer, and I fell for him. Honestly, I thought it was unrequited love. But he just one day blurted out that he was in love with me and couldn't keep it in anymore."

"Awww." He said. "Yeah." You sighed.

"Well, you're lucky. I mean Chris Evans," He emphasized. "And you." He said, his voice going down as if to say that you were inferior. You hummed back, not amused by his comment because you honestly expected this. You looked at the dress, it was black and had floral designs on it, and had a net neckline that went deep until a bit of your cleavage showed, it fell right above your knees. You twirled a bit and smiled. "I hate you, but you look beautiful right now."

You chuckled dryly. "Thank you."

"But damn, not beautiful enough for him to like you. Like I know he could've done better but..." He trailed off as he went outside the room. "By the way, welcome back sister." You shook your head and looked back. Your apparent boyfriend was still sleeping. You sat beside him and went to mess his hair until his hand caught your wrist. You gasped as he pulled you closer to him, his breath fanning his face. "What he said is not true, got it?" He said, his voice deep.

"What?" You whispered.

"What he said-you are not beautiful enough to date me'-I m-mean any other guy, who may be an actor, a singer, a damn millionaire, you are so fucking beautiful and smart a-and," He gulped. "-and lovely. Any guy would so friggin' lucky to have you, you know that right?"

You nodded, your eyes leaving his blue hues to how close your bodies were. You gulped, your eyes shy, not wanting to meet his sparkling crystal blue eyes. "Mhmm." Chris looked at you, he breathed in your state. He loved to see you so flustered, it made him want to kiss you-

"They're starting dinner in 10 minutes, you might want to freshen up a bit." You said. He just nodded and moved, directly going to the bathroom. You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding.

You looked up to the ceiling and take a deep breath. How is this supposed to help? How was this supposed to help you get over him?

You were falling deeper now. And you didn't want to stop yourself.

"You ready?"

"As long as you are, honey."

.....

You sighed and looked outside the room, as the clouds cleared up, and the sun came up. Your chest was trembling when tears blurred your vision as you remembered the scene of last night. Your head was hurting of the overthinking and embarrassment, it was too much. You felt arms slither around your waist and you rested your head on his chest, sniffling. "Good morning."

You smiled and closed your eyes. "Mhmm."

Chris held you and kissed your head. He looked at you as you swayed in his arms. "What are you doing?" He asked, his neck craning forward. "Well, we have to dance at the wedding. Shouldn't we practice?"

"We have to dance?"

"Well yeah. It's necessary, and by the way, it gives you the chance to impress me with your dance skills." You say cockily. He smirked and picked you up, twirling you around. You let out an adorable gasp and quickly gripped his shoulders, holding for life. He laughed when he noticed the look on your face. You scoffed and looked away, "You have to stop doing that." His heart went warm when he saw your cute pout.

He grabbed your waist again and turned you, pulling you close, and swaying side to side. He leaned in your ear as your whole body went hot. "Never." You giggled as he twirled you on the ground, and then pulled you in and jumped and went around dancing and waltzing with you. You smiled, your teeth showing, your heart flowing.

You giggled as he dipped you suddenly and you held onto his shoulders and inhaled sharply as your noses touched together. When he pulled you back up, you rested your head on his shoulder and he pulled you more closer, swaying at the silent melody.

He sighed and buried his head into your hair, as you did in the crook of his neck. Only if you could stay like this forever.

But you both suddenly jumped back. You turned to meet with, amelia, your brother's fiance. "Oh hello." She said, suppressing a sly smile. You knew she was secretly watching you both. You blushed and stepped away from Chris. "Hi," you muttered shyly. Chris cleared his throat and looked at you, "I should shower." You nodded as he moved to the bathroom. "Oh, and the men are calling you to get a beer and play pool? Like they're leaving after 40 mins." Chris nodded and smiled sheepishly. "Thank you."

"And we have to go shopping!" She linked her hands with you and you chuckled at her. "Yes, yes we do. So, don't interrupt us." You said cockily. You giggled as Chris raised his brows and raised his hands in surrender. "Wouldn't think of it. Oh, and" He walked towards you and kissed your cheek, his lips lingering there a little while. "Bye, honey." You looked up at him, flustered and caught off guard. You cmiled shyly at him and nodded. "Bye."

You bit your lip and walked away with Amelia, your cheek tingling from where he kissed you.

Amelia nudged your shoulder and you looked at her. "He's right. You are so smitten." She giggled as you positively reacted and blushed.

"Shut up."

.....

You walked through the market, looking at the beautiful souvenirs, jewellery, and dresses, and silently squealed as you saw your favourite bakery. "So..." You heard amelia's voice. You smiled dreamily, "So..." You repeated on. "Oh come on! Tell me how it is to be with him!" She whined.

You giggled and looked back at her. "Magical." You whispered.

She squealed and followed your pace. "I need more details! Is he the brooding type or does he like to cuddle? Or is he one of those guys that are tough from the outside but are just like a teddy bear from the inside. "Quite the opposite actually." You answered. You heard Amelia gasp and chuckled. "Tell me more, please!"

"Alright, alright. But you have to buy me a bagel first. Ooh and you're gonna have to let me browse in Barnes & Noble." Amelia nodded and dragged you to sit on a bench nearby. "Well...?"

You took a deep breath. "He's the best. Like he's so soft with me and never ever hurts me. He likes to hug me, and oh the many forehead kisses I get, but I can't get enough of them," You sighed, realizing how true these facts actually were. "He likes to cuddle with me, and always takes me out for lunch from work. Like it's our thing you know? He's like....perfect. And I know nobody's perfect but he's like so nice and kind, and I can't point out that something that he has, but he's makes me feel so...giddy. Makes me feel as if I'm the only girl in the world." You breathed calmly as you chose your words. "And, god, am i in love with him.

You smiled shyly as you heard her softly giggle beside you.

"Oh, that you are." She said and took hold of your forearm again. "You are so whipped."

You smiled, but you smiled painfully, suddenly being aware of the fact that it is all play. It's all fake and just to show. Your heart ached by realizing that this might be just an act. That all the sweet nothings that he whispers in your ear is to convince, but it felt so real.

After all, he's an actor, isn't he?

You sighed and looked at Amelia and chuckled. You smiled in pain, because of the fact that you're in love with him, and you're in so deep. But he doesn't love you.

And he never will.

"Oooh, and what about sex?" Your breath hitched in your throat and you blushed. You looked down, and bit your lip. "I'm not talking about that." You mumbled shyly. Amelia 'ooh'-ed once again and your heart started beating faster. "Just one tiny detail."

Your brain started thinking mischievously and you started to get up. "He's very dominating. And I love it."

.....

"Hey, are you okay?" Chris asked you. You tightly smiled at him, and nodded. You were trying so hard not to tear up, but just looking at him made your ears ring. It was too much for you, to look at him and feel so loved, but knowing it was all false. You breathed in deep and sighed as you placed your napkin on your lap. You tried your best to convince Chris that you were alright, but he sensed something was wrong.

To him, you were as transparent as a new glass window. He could literally see through you. "Are you sure?" You hummed in response. He felt confused. He looked down at your hand, he wanted to hold your soft hand and draw circles on them. He sighed and smiled at the family while shoving his napkin into his collar. You cleared your throat and looked around.

You all were out to have dinner in a restaurant. It was the oldest restaurant in your town, and it was rated the best, You remembered the many times you came here when you were little. You smiled at the memories. "So what do you want to order?" Your dad asked. You looked at the menu. "I'm really in the mood to eat indian." You said.

Your mom raised her eyebrows, judgingly. "Really, Y/n? Maybe you should get a salad, you have to fit in your bridesmaid's dress." You breathed in heavily, tears clouding your eyes. You looked down and tried to keep your eyes away from everybody else. But your father and Chris knew what was going on. Your father was about to open his mouth, but then Chris started to speak. "Actually Indian seems good, nice choice baby." He said and kissed your cheek. You blushed and glanced up at him and bit your lip. Before you know it, you kissed his cheek.

Chris' heart skipped a beat.

Your eyes widened, realizing what you had just done. You swallowed, and looked down, while Chris was biting his lip, his whole face heating up. "Sorry." you mumbled, so only he could hear it. But he just smiled and shook his head. "It's okay." He said sheepishly. He quickly kissed your temple and studied the menu.

"Oh my gosh, Charlie!!" You heard your mom's shrill cry. You looked up, your eyebrows scrunched up. Charlie? Which Charlie was she talking about-oh. You swallowed your saliva when you saw him. Chris looked up when you did, his face reciprocated one of concern. Who was Charlie? He looked at the guy that was grinning and waving at your mom, side-glancing you. He had wavy raven hair, that were a bit longer, and green eyes, and he was wearing a long purple shirt that hung on his strong shoulders. He was wearing a locket and he wrapped his arms around your mother as he went to hug her. Chris' eyes narrowed when he saw his silver chain bracelet hanging on his wrist, on his veiny hands. Who was this guy?

He looked down at you, a questioning look across his face, but his jaw clenched as more confusion and some kind of anger spread in his chest when he saw you gaping at him.

You raised your eyebrows at him, what was he doing here? "Y/n, honey, you do remember Charlie?" You smiled politely. "Of course, I do." Hell, he was your first boyfriend and your prom date. He was your first love and heartbreak. Of course, you remembered him. "Hey, Charlie." You said, softly. He looked back at you, you didn't notice it but he practically lit up when you spoke to him. "Hi, there."

You smiled at him. Why exactly was he here? You thought, Chris' burning stare going unnoticed. "Why don't you join us?" Your mom asked politely. But Charlie shook his head, "No, It's alright, besides I'm here with my friends."

"Well, you have to come to the wedding!" You said. He looked at you, his eyes suddenly shining. "Of course I'm coming, love. Your brother has invited me to his bachelor party so..." You blushed from embarrassment as you hear him call you 'love'. You nodded at him, and smiled again. But by this time, Chris was fuming. Who the hell was this guy? Why was he calling you 'love'? Who the fuck gave him the right to call you love? His knuckles were white, and he wanted nothing but to kiss you in front of him and claim you his.

"Y/n, why don't you walk him to his table?" You looked at your mom, your face adorned with question, now. What was she trying to do? But as she gestured you to go on, you felt a grip on your thigh. Your heart skipped a beat when you turned to Chris who was clenching his jaw. You scrunched your eyebrows at him but he just shook his head. You flushed under his intense gaze, your beat increasing fast.

You bit your lip at your mom who was slightly smirking, while your father shook his head. "Um, I should go. Bye, Mrs, L/n, Bye, Y/n." Charlie said his goodbye's and went back to his table. Chris gulped and looked down his lap, but then he slightly smiled when he felt your hand softly placed on his. You kissed his cheek and smiled at him. He got mesmerized when he locked his eyes with yours, yours that were shiny and beautiful and so gentle, and it made his heart feel warm.

"So, you want chicken tandoori or shahi panner?"

After dinner, you all were getting in the car, and that's when Charlie came to you. "Hey, um Y/n if you don't mind, can I walk you home." You looked back at your family and then turned back to him. "Um, sure." Chris glared at the guy. He did not like him. At all. He didn't like the way he looked at you. Only he could-Chris violently coughed, and put a hand on his chest. You jogged towards him and ran a hand on his back. He cleared his throat, and smiled at the way concern was etched adorably on your face. "I'm fine, Honey." He said and kissed your temple. You pouted and fixed his hair.

You turned to go towards Charlie, until you felt Chris holding your hand. "Be careful. And please come quickly." He says, you smiled and blushed at the way he looked at you with worried eyes. You got this sudden courage in your heart and kissed his nose. "I promise, bubba." You bit your lip and walked away from him.

.....

You sighed as you walked alongside your ex-boyfriend. You were ever so grateful that the silence between you was comfortable and not awkward or embarrassing at all. Your silence got interrupted by his statement. "So how long have you two been dating?" You looked at him incredulously. "What?"

"You and that Blue And Dreamy Eyes guy, he looks like he has the hots for you. You know he looks like he should be the face of American Eagle or something." You giggled at that comment. "Well, we're....um been dating for 7 months..?"

He narrowed his eyes at you. "You're lying. You'll never bring your boyfriend to meet your family, especially for a family function, when you've only been dating for 7 months. I remember how many times you've deliberately avoided me meeting your parents as your boyfriend." He looked back at you to see you flushed. "What are you hiding, my bookish beauty?" You laughed at your apparent nickname. "Seriously, when are you gonna stop calling me that?" He just shook his head at you. "Now, answer my question."

"I-I'm not hiding anything from you o-or a-any body e-else." You stammered. "You're a really, really bad liar, love." You pouted at him. "Shut up, I'm a great liar." He raised his eyebrows, scoffing, amused at your reply. "You know, like your apparent lover, I can see through you."

You groaned loudly. "Fine. We're not really dating, but we're pretending to, so that my family can stop being so fucking annoying and taunting about me not having a boyfriend." He turned at you, and tilted his head in a way to say, "Really?". You scrunched up your nose and nodded. "Yup. And he suggested it, voluntarily." You said, holding up your hands. Charlie sighed. "So, what exactly is your relationship with him?" You shrugged, "Co-workers. Like you know I'm his-well not really his, one of the make-up artists, and he's an actor." You explained. Charlie shook his head, and then looked at you again. "It's more than that. I know it's more than that. It's kind of obvious."

You looked at the ground. "We're...friends." Charlie looked up in the sky, and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Nope."

"Fine! We're well friends, that are really, really close, but um the kind that contains unrequited love...?" You said, and sighed, not sure how to explain. Charlie nodded at you while squinting his eyes. "So you're the one with the unrequited love, or he's the one?" You looked at him. "Me, obviously." You stated, in a 'duh' tone. Charlie shook his head, chuckling. "Wow, you are still oblivious as hell."

Not knowing what he was talking about, you fell into silence. But after considering your pause, Charlie spoke up again. "Do you not realize how much that guy loves you? Like have you seen the way he looked at you? And the way he got possessive and jealous when your mother told you to walk me to my table. He looked like he was about to pounce on me, and yell that you're his." He said, and you scoffed. "You do realize that we're pretending? Which technically means acting, which is practically his profession?" You said as you rolled your eyes.

"How can you not know that he's utterly in love with you? You haven't changed at all!"

"What the hell do you mean, Charlie?"

He shook his head. "Do you remember that guy in 6th grade that used to sit beside you every algebra class? He fell in love with you. Even after he had gotten the hang of algebra, he asked you to tutor him. Why? Because he loved you!" You shook your head. "No he didn't! He was a bloody jerk Charlie! He hated me, he even looked at me with disgust when the teacher told him to sit next to me!"

"Wow. Anyways, do you remember that jock that helped you improve your baseball? Well, yeah he fell in love with you too."

"No he didn't! He called me miserably insecure in front of the whole popular crowd!" He shook his head. "That was because he was angry and jealous which is not an excuse by the way, because you were getting too close with the guy from the robotics club. Who fell in love with you too, by the way. He just couldn't express his feelings, well, because he was a literal robot," He said, and you replayed all the memories from school, and widened your eyes in disbelief. "Seriously?" You asked him.

"Mhmm. You were very oblivious to realize it, all of those boys believed that they knew they had no chance because you didn't love yourself," He continued. "At that time at least. Right now, it's different. You look so confident." You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Because I got away from my family, and got into the world, instead of believing their insults."

"True."

"-But there is no way Chris is in love with me!" Charlie sighed dramatically. "God! Would you believe me for once!" You stuck your tongue out and he pinched the bridge of his nose and laughed at your silliness. There was a silence between you again. And you sighed, remembering the bittersweet memories of you both being a couple, causing trouble. "I'm really glad that we stayed friends." You shivered and pulled Chris' jacket closer to you.

"Yeah me too."

You walked towards your house and looked at the freshly made statue, and pointed at it. It was a statue of a pile of books, stacked onto each other with a girl laying on top, pointing to the sky. You looked at Charlie, your mouth agape. "The new mayor is a woman. A well-educated woman with brilliant ideas and she's a big feminist, and everybody loves her."

"Thats nice."

"Listen, please just consider him being in love with you for a moment. Go home and just take a closer look, you'll see what everybody literally knows." You glanced at him, and then back on the ground, nodding. "Thanks, you idiot." Charlie laughed and bobbed his head. "Bye, love."

"Bye, Charlie." You said, in a singsong way.

.....

Chris sighed and played with a string that was on his bed. When are you coming back? It was not like he felt that you couldn't protect yourself, it was just...that he didn't trust the guy. Charlie. Who was he to you? Was he someone important to you? He looked at the clock in your bedroom and grunted. I swear to god if he tries anything...

But Chris groaned and ran a hand through his face. Why did the fact that you were some other guy that he didn't trust bother him so much? I mean he wasn't your boyfriend or anything...As Chris laid back down on your bed, images went through his head, unpleasant images. Charlie kissing you, Charlie touching your skin and placing kisses on them, his hands roaming around your body, Charlie making you moan....

He didn't realize that by the time these images went through his head, his fists were clenched, and smoke was coming out of his ears like some tea kettle. Chris breathed in deeply and sighed, calming down as your scent from your pillow reached his lungs. You were the only one that could calm him down. You were the one that made him happy. You were the one that was his anchor. It was you. Only you.

He was in love with you.

God. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, and love you. And then there was that pang in his heart. That wouldn't be possible, would it? How would you like him? Hell, he was sure you would never even dream of it. He was just your...friend. Fake boyfriend. He looked at the photo next to your bed on the table. It was you in a stitch onesie, you looked sleepy but were still showing a peace sign. You were probably 4-5 years old. He grinned at the photo. "She was five years old, we were traveling for two days and didn't have time to rest, and when we finally reached our house, she was very sleepy. So, we put her into her favourite onesie, and then finally before sleeping we took a picture of her." Chris looked back to see your father leaned on the door frame of your bedroom.

"I thought you all were asleep."

Your father chuckled. "If you think I'm gonna sleep when my baby is out, then son, you're wrong." He said and Chris chuckled and nodded. He knew that your father was protective of you, every father is. He looked back at your photo and smiled at it. "You're a good guy, Chris." Chris chuckled at that and got up as he sat beside him. "You got to own it. You've got to own your feelings and come out with them. My daughter looks so happy with you, you know that? I haven't seen her happy, in like, ever. And trust me, she's not good at acting or lying, I can see through her. She loves you."

Chris almost narrowed his eyes. Your father was saying everything he needed to hear to prove his thoughts wrong. She loves you. It was almost as if your father knew something. Or was he a mind reader?

"So, if you ever hurt her you will die."

Chris chuckled and shook his head. "I'll never even dream about hurting her sir." You father nodded, patted Chris' knee, and got up. "O, hi, you're back." You pouted at your dad. "Right. Didn't I tell you to sleep? Dad, you don't have to wait up for me." Chris' posture straightened, relieved that you were back.

"Who said I was waiting up for you? I was talking to your boyfriend." He said. And walked out of there, your eyes following his figure. You entered the room, holding the strap of your sling bag. You looked at Chris sitting on a bed and smiled at him. "Hello." You said to him and walked towards him. "Hi." He said and reached forward to hold your waist. You gulped as you felt his hand around your waist, your skin burning under his contact. "I think your father knows." He said.

"He always knows. Don't mind it." You said and sat down beside him. You slowly rested your head on his shoulder, staring into space. You felt him kissing temple as something burned in you. Hope. Your fragile heart drummed and you silently wished that it wasn't false hope.

.....

You looked at the dress Amelia told you to wear at the bachelorette party. You put on your boots and looked at yourself in the mirror. You sighed and twirled around. You looked sexy. Something that was new for you, but somehow you felt confident. Yet nervous. You were conscious that you were going in front of Chris like this. What if he didn't like it? He has seen many other girls, who were different than her and probably partied everyday. But you weren't like that. You knew that you'd rather prefer reading or spent the evening listening to Taylor Swift and bake. You shrugged and straightened your back. This is going to be a phenomenal night, as Amelia said.

You slowly came out of your room and walked down the stairs, to see Chris and your dad watching football while your brother was hugging his fiance from behind. You breathed in and walked down the remaining stairs, hoping that nobody would pay attention to you. "Whoa." Someone said and everybody's eyes went on you, making you blush. Chris looked at you and gaped at you, his jaw slacked.

He suddenly got up, erupting soft giggles from Amelia as she gave you a suggestive wink. You bit your lip, and looked at Chris. His eyes were wide and his throat went dry. You were looking so...hot. It made him want to....He gulped as sinful thoughts came into his mind, and felt blood running down to a very embarrassing place as he kept staring at you.

Chris swallowed his spit and opened his mouth to speak. "You look...Wow." He breathed. You smiled at him and blushed deeply. "Thank you." You went to hug him goodbye, but he slightly pushed you back. You looked at him, a bit hurt. But he just made a face and looked down, turning pink as you spotted his boner.

You heard someone laugh out loud and turned to the noise, looking back of Chris' shoulder. "Hi, there, hot stuff." Charlie came in. You shook your head, not amused by his comment. "Hi, Charlie." You smiled at him and he smirked at you and waved. He pointed at Chris and mouthed something making you blush. Chris felt that irksome feeling in his chest again. He went to turn to glare at Charlie but you made him look at you again. You kissed his cheek, and mouthed a goodbye, and tried to look anywhere but his visible boner. You bit your lip again making Chris look at you adorably. "Bye, beautiful." He whispered and held your forearm, not really wanting to let you go. "Be careful." He whispered and kissed your temple again, making you think about what Charlie had said. You started to pull back from him, as his palm brushed across your hand.

"Have fun, guys!" Amelia said as she walked you out. "Dad, be nice." You called out so he wouldn't grill Chris. "Bye, honey," Chris called too. "Wow, you really can't stay without her. Can you?" Luke said and your chest felt heavy, as you heard it while you went out. But then you hear Chris chuckle making you feel warm. "You have no idea." He said.

You just wished he would say those words you've been longing to hear.

.....

"So you really like her?" Luke, your brother asked Chris. Chris raised his eyebrows at him. Was this guy serious? Obviously, he liked you. Chris squinted his eyes at him, and smiled awkwardly. "Obviously, I like her. If I don't like her how the hell would I love her?" He said, a bit harshly, out of nowhere. Chris widened his eyes when he realized just what he said, out loud at that. He glanced at your dad, who was smirking proudly at him. "You're a good guy, Chris." Your dad said to him, and Chris nodded at him chuckling weakly.

"Wait, wait. No, um, You're too good of a guy. What exactly do you like in y/n? I mean she's just a make up artist and definitely not your type, I mean, you could have anyone-" Your brother rambled. But his whole speech made Chris' blood boil, what was he implying? That you were someone nobody would love?

"Excuse me if I'm being rude, not really sorry for it," Chris mumbled the last part. "But why are you always undermining your own sister? You should know that she's fucking beautiful and very hot, and any guy would be lucky to have her. She has this evergreen personality and you know what? No actress I've worked with or in the world can amount to her, because guess what? I love her! And she's the most beautiful person to me! So stop making my girl feel insecure because of your stupid opinions and stop acting like one of cinderella's stepsisters!!!"

He took a deep breath and stepped back, noticing the aghast look on your brother's face. Chris shortly glanced at Charlie who was smirking and your father, who looked rather surprised but had a proud glint in his eyes. Your father had puffed his chest proudly and quietly raised his beer bottle to him and took a sip from it. He almost grinned, but then he heard the gasp.

Your gasp.

He quickly turned around and saw you standing behind him, your face was flushed, but right now he was only focused on the way you looked at him. Could you have known that he really meant the 'I love you'?

You wanted to talk to him, but you suddenly got pulled away by your mother, wanting to try the bridesmaid dress on.

.....

Chris groaned as he ran his hands through his hair. You hadn't talked to him in a day. And it made him nervous as hell. What if you wanted nothing to do with him anymore? What if you hated him? All the possibilities made him sweat. He didn't want to live in a world where you hated him, or in a world where you wanted nothing to do with him. Being your friend will be sufficient enough, sure it would hurt that he wouldn't be the one to kiss you or cuddle you or shower you with his love, but at least you'll be in his life. And maybe he would just love you from afar.

He looked at the mirror in front of him. He was wearing a nice blue suit and a white rose. He sighed and put on a smile, wishing best for everything. He wondered what you were doing. You were back where the bride-to-be was getting ready. He breathed in shakily, imagining what might be the bridesmaid dress and how magnificent you would look in it.

He sighed and got ready to step out.

While you were back getting Amelia getting ready. She looked so beautiful, you thought. You fixed her veil, and spread her gown perfectly across the ground. You sighed and grabbed her shoulder and rested your chin on her shoulder. "You look so beautiful, you know that?" You say, your voice low while she nodded. Amelia took a deep breathe in. "You look awesome too you know?" She looked at you through the mirror. "Chris isn't gonna realize what hit him." You blushed at his mention and breathed in sharply. "Thanks,"

"Now, come one, lovely. Time to get married, and suffer the rest of your life living with my brother." You said and laughed softly. She smiled and chuckled at your comment, some tears coming to her eyes. "Hey, what happened?"

"Thank you." She said. "I've always dreamt of having a supportive sister because I never had someone so supportive until your brother came along and encouraged me so much. And when I met you, I knew that you would be very loving." You tilted your head and smiled weakly at her, your hands reaching out to her face to wipe the unshed tears. "Come on, now. You don't want to ruin the makeup that the special stylist put on while there was literally a makeup artist in front of you?"

"Right sorry for that."

You chuckled and shook your head. "You ready?" You asked her, to which she nodded and breathed in deeply. You took the bouquet and got ready to walk down the aisle. It gave you shivers as you thought about it. Walk down the aisle. You wondered when you will walk down the aisle as the bride. You were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard the band play. You walked down the aisle, taking deep breaths.

You looked around the hall, spotting many familiar faces, and sighed. But then you spotted him. You took a deep breath and looked at him. He was wearing a handsome blue suit, complimenting his beautiful blue eyes. Chris looked at you, his heart fluttering when he saw you.

He gaped at you, his cheeks turning pink. He studied the dress you had put on, and how gorgeous you looked in it. He nodded and slightly smiled at you, as you looked at him, your eyes shiny. You walked up front and smiled at the crowd. You breathed in sharply as you met Chris' eyes. You felt like staring into them forever.

"Do you take, Amelia as your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and health, in sorrow and joy, to have and to hold...." But all those words trailed off as you looked at Chris, who looked at you, as if you were the only both people in the world.

"I do."

.....

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For how I treated you....for well, your whole life." You chuckled and shook your head, as your brother swayed you from side to side. "What made you change your mind?" You asked him, as he twirled you around and then held your waist again. You sighed, as the melody went on. "Your boyfriend, who loves you so much." He said making you blush awkwardly. "Hey, you okay?" He asked you. "Mhmm." You hummed back. Luke looked at you and raised his eyebrows.

"Look, Chris is a good guy. And he cares for you so much. Please don't push this one away." You looked at him and nodded. "Oh, and by the way, talking about the guy that cares and loves for you. He's waiting for you."

You looked back to see Chris staring at you. Luke leaves your hand and then gestures for you to go on. You sheepishly went towards him, and then held his hand, leading him outside near the swing. You both sat on the swing and slowly started moving it, staring into the dark night and the bright moon that was above them.

You recognized the song that started in the hall.

Heart beats fast

Colours and promises

How to be brave?

How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?

But watching you stand alone, all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow,

"Dance with Captain America?" You giggled and shook your head as you took his hand, adoring his lopsided grin. He pulled you closer, and you both gasped sharply and sighed as you both breathed in each other, your noses touching again. You looked at his sparkling eyes, as his gaze tripped from your orbs to your soft lips. You exhaled as he leaned in, your hand glided to his neck. He gripped your waist, and you touched your foreheads together. "Did you mean it?" You asked softly.

One step closer

"I want to watch butterflies sit on sunflowers with you," Chris whispered. You looked back at him and nodded. "And I only want to do it with you." Your lips collided together, molding together perfectly. You kissed softly yet so passionately. Chris slightly smiled, as you sighed into the kiss. Your heart started to thud faster when he pulled you closer. You remembered all the days you imagined this, as your heart ached thinking it would never happen. But as you kissed him more deeply, you thought about the many moments he kissed you on the cheeks, your temple, your forehead, and stared at you so lovingly and thought about how really oblivious you were. You thought about how much you loved this man.

I have died everyday waiting for you

Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years

I'll love you for a thousand more

"I love you, honey." He confessed, his heart warming when he heard your soft giggles.

"I love you too. So much."

You sighed as he led you, and held you, as you danced to the song. You rested your head on his shoulder, and he bent his head to your neck and took in your perfume scent. He sighed as his heart fluttered again. You danced in the snow the whole night. As he twirled you around, and you both laughed and waltzed, and loved each other.

And you were finally happy. With your Chris.

___________________________________

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chris-continues · 1 year

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Ok having knives be a second choice to Vash angst hurts because Knives is considerably “selfish” for everything except for Vash. He’s done everything to protect Vash but you come into the picture and you occupy his mind from the forefront to the recesses and yet..

you make Vash so happy. The way his brother considerably brightens up even more around you, he can see how he yearns for you.

He’s much kinder than him, anyway. More charismatic and whatnot, more upfront. That’s the kind of person you need, right?

It’s ridiculous. Knives doesn’t have to deal with such childish things. He’s got school to focus on, a job to go to, and he’s got to finish prepping dinner for tonight. He never liked you anyway, you were annoying, and clingy, and bright and..

It’s fine.

#knives x reader #Chris writes #angst #angst no comfort #second choice #pining #drabble #millions knives #knives millions #Trigun #tristamp #Trigun stampede #vash x reader

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sunrise-of-wonder · 5 months

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My hot take about Wish that no one asked for is that Asha should've been the king's super devoted apprentice from the start, and he should have spent the whole movie trying to convince her to come back. A whole messed up fallen mentor thing, where the loss of her support is what causes him to unravel. Think of the angst! The drama! The betrayal 👌🏽

#wish was okay but i wanted more angst and a tighter scale #i was equally entranced by the cute af star + hot king chris pine + the sexy moorish arches #but i think i want a mentor relationship here #like a fallen idol situation #i think that wouldve been more of a gut punch #and also wouldve been kickass if she ALMOST convinces him to stand down #like tai lung #anyway follow for more randomly occurring reviews of animated kids movies #disney wish

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totallynottinsel · 8 months

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Warnings: none. Just some tooth rotting fluff for the soul. and maybe a little angst

Ship: Chreon (+ some Jill x Claire sprinkled in for fun)

Ty to my wonderful mom for this whole idea of the gang getting to have a chill day out for once, she's amazing so all credit goes to her for the prompt (: (i've dragged her into the Chreon cult)

Finally, with the world saved once again by the skin of everyone’s teeth, there was that silent, open void left over; it was a bit funny how these top tier government agents and so on had a hard time figuring out what to occupy themselves with when not stopping bioterrorists or shooting zombies. Though most of them had gotten used to that same empty space by now.

After Dylan had been successfully put to a stop, as well as the events on Alcatraz Island settled—the near exhausted group of friends wanted to at least spend a little time all together before each of them had to return to their own set of work again. Yet the question was…what would they do? None could seem to agree on one thing throughout the various ideas and suggestions spat out, though at least someone had a decent choice. Rebecca ended up saying they should simply go out for ice cream, to which they all happily agreed to. Who wouldn’t though?

They all decided to carpool to make the trip easier. “I’m calling shotgun!” Claire exclaimed as she dashed to the side of the car, sitting herself inside right next to her brother, who’d already been the chosen driver—whilst Jill and Rebecca got stuck with the backseats. But at least it wasn’t too squished for the two of them, or so they would think for a good minute.

“Hey, can I ride with you guys? I’ve kinda lost mine” A low, unsure voice kindly asked the rest of the group, which was quick to catch everyone’s attention. It belonged to Leon of course, who stood just a few feet away from the vehicle, arms crossed as he patiently awaited a response.

“What happened to your bike?” Chris asked with curiosity towards the other, his arm resting on the rim of the car’s open window.

“I…don’t really wanna talk about it.” The blond replied in an underlying tone of remorse, his gaze fluttering down to the ground below him, almost in a shameful manner.

"Not again…" Claire murmured from her side, leaning forward to try and get a better look out her brother's window, not all too surprised by the revolution. Especially seeing who it was coming from.

"What does she mean again? Jesus, how many bikes have you recked?" Jill raised an eyebrow to the topic, staring at the apprehensive man outside the car with a slightly distasteful, yet nonetheless intrigued look on her face.

"Too many for my liking." Leon mumbled under his breath as it was mixed with the tiniest tinge of annoyance, which was fair in his defense. He made his way over to the car, and slid himself inside the backseat alongside the other two—who were now stuck being squished next to each other.

"So what I got from that was, is that I get to sit next to the guy who's known for wrecking bikes and or vehicles? Just my luck." She remarked straight back, her tone riddled with sarcasm as she kept on trying to lean far from him, making their limited space even worse no doubt. "Wanna swap seats?" She asked the woman next to her.

"I'll pass." Rebecca gladly declined, knowing fully well she wasn't about to be the human shield in case the curse of the vehicle wrecker was real all along.

"Don't worry, we'll get you a new one, again. It's no big deal." Chris didn't hesitate one bit to put up an offer towards the other man, his usual warm and inviting smile coming across his face as he started up the car, one hand leisurely placed on the wheel.

"You don't have to do that, Chris—really. I can get my own this time, eventually…" He denied the gracious offer with hesitance; it wouldn't be the first time he's said no, yet came home to a snazzy new bike regardless.

"He just likes finding any excuse to buy you things." Claire couldn't help but comment with a grin towards the two, shifting to look back at Leon, who rightfully was trying to avoid direct eye contact. Even if everyone was staring at him with intrigue. "You know he'll get it for you no matter what you say or do." He sank right into his seat after hearing that.

—-------

"Are you going to pick or just stand there?" Chris asked with a gentle sigh, waiting for Jill to finally order whatever flavor of ice cream she was so deeply contemplating for what seemed like years. At this rate, she'd been holding up the line of impatient kids—whilst Claire and Rebecca had no issues ordering and taking a seat outside the place.

"Give me a break! It's been awhile since I ordered anything, let alone ice cream." She gave a snappy response before eventually making her decision out of the bajillion flavors this place had, and was glad to leave the devilish gazes of all those kids waiting for their daily sugar intake.

"Did you order anything yet?" Chris directed his attention back to the silent man standing off to the side, seeming a bit fazed out—as if he'd been distracted this entire time, which might've been true.

"Huh–? Oh, yeah… I'll just have whatever you're having, I'm not really that hungry." Leon merely shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his hands down into the pockets of his leather jacket, having his laid back demeanor as always.

"You sure?" The older wanted to confirm, though a hint of concern was noticeable in his voice towards the other.

"Yeah, like I said, I'm not super hungry or anything…but if I do I'll just steal some from yours." He at least had a half smile going, which was better than nothing at all, but something still felt a bit off.

The two men returned back outside within no time, ice cream in hand as the sun was shining, people out and about, no blood curdling screams of terror. Or big tyrants stomping around. All in all it was…well, a normal, average day, by anyone else's standards. But for this group of pals in particular? This was like a dream.

"Looks like we've been ditched." Leon snarkily remarked at the supposed other three friends who'd left before them, now nowhere in sight. So…that left the both of them, alone once again to either sit in cricket filled silence as they stood on the sidewalk, or attempt at striking up a decent conversation. What the hell would they even talk about at this point? That was always the question when this scene played out, with no mission to swiftly coordinate with one another, or battle to face. Though in all honesty, neither one totally hated the silence—it was almost nice of sorts to just be in each other's company, no words needed.

"You doing okay?" Chris finally spoke up after at least five minutes of just head nodding and gestures of acknowledgement, having already taken notice of the other's odd quietness, and how he kept on resting his eyes nearly the whole time. "You've been pretty quiet all morning."

"I'm fine, just real tired. I barely got any sleep last night…actually, scratch that, I haven't got any sleep all damn week. I guess it's catching up to me." The fatigued blond rubbed his drowsy eyes with his hand, leaning his back against the concrete wall next to the store. "I can't seem to figure out how to stop having nightmares, and I feel like I've tried everything, you know?"

"Yeah, I do." Chris gave a weary nod in return; he definitely had similar experiences with dreams throughout his entire life, though he wasn't sure if his were as frequent, and as bad as Leon's. He's heard about them in detail before, and it didn't sound like a pleasant sight to see. He also wasn't an expert when it came to comforting people, so he gently leaned his cup of ice cream towards the other, offering it up with a kindhearted smile.

Leon let a short chuckle go as he spotted the ice cream, decided to accept the treat, even if it wasn't a flavor he preferred—he didn't mind at all if it was coming from Chris. He pulled out one of the plastic spoons that sat in the side of it, and popped a spoon full into his mouth, pleasantly surprised by it.

"You'll always have my shoulder to lean on, just know that." The older said whilst taking a bite of his own, happy to have seen his offer of ice cream be taken up.

"Good, 'cause I'm beat." Leon didn't hesitate much to carefully rest his sleepy head on the side of the other's shoulder, not exactly being able to reach the top due to their slight height difference. He obviously chose to take the Chris's words more literally than figuratively—but hey, the man was exhausted, so what's the harm in it?

The two decided to stay there, taking in the scenery; sounds of speedy cars rushing by, or the sounds of distant voices and footsteps. It was honestly quite relaxing, and with how tired Leon already was, he was struggling to even keep his eyes open as he took a long awaited rest—which no doubt wouldn't be happening if Chris wasn't here. They made each other feel safe enough to put their guards down for once. It was sort of like having a big fuzzy blanket you could hide yourself under, and you felt as if nobody could touch you.

"Hey, Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"You really don't have to get me a new bike."

"I want to."

Leon sighed in defeat, eyes still closed, knowing there was no way he'd win this argument.

"Maybe Claire was right when she said I use it as an excuse to buy you things, but it's also an excuse to get to see you. Without having to fight bioterrorist's in the same day." It was true, he was always looking for little ways to try and see or talk to the agent away from anything work related, and it'd become painfully obvious to everyone around that he was trying so hard to spend time with him, well—to everyone but Leon.

“All you have to do is ask, y’know? It’s no trouble if you ever wanna call me up and hang around, or something. No need to spend your entire life savings on me, Redfield.” He mentally cursed at his own words after some thought over them, wondering if ‘hanging around’ was the right thing to suggest, should he have recommended going out to dinner? Or perhaps another group activity? He was unsure, and the room was a bit hard to read…so, all he could really do was hope for the best.

“I might just take you up on that, then.” Well, Chris definitely seemed up for it, so…at least he was doing something right.

—-----

"That's a keeper." Claire said with a smile of her own as she snapped a good photo of the two men from round the street corner, knowing it was a rare sight they were ever that close in a public setting—and she couldn't wait to see the look on her brother's face once she showed it to him later.

"How have neither of them asked each other out?" Rebecca asked with absolute disbelief, shaking her head as she finished off her scoop of ice cream.

"Honestly, I thought Leon would be making moves left and right on him, but I realized he talks a bigger game than he's actually got. And that's just based off a few days knowing him." Jill summed it up fairly well as she watched the two, arms crossed with a small smile before she moved her gaze to the other women beside her. "You Redfields are awful at flirting too."

"She's got a point, I've been around those two long enough to get the feeling that Chris…isn't necessarily great at flirting…" Rebecca chimed in with reluctance.

"Hey, we're not awful flirters! I can do it just as well as anyone else, and maybe Chris…struggles, but he gets there." Claire defended the both of them with confidence in her voice, one she'd soon come to regret as she attempted trying to come up with a flirt, or pickup line, yet—she found herself stuck with infuriated embarrassment by the end of it.

"Alright, stop— look, this is how you do it." Jill set her empty cup of melted ice cream down onto the ground, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped a few feet away, then turned around and walked up to the younger Redfield again, who was still speechless. "Hey, wanna go out some time, beautiful?"

In all honesty, it wasn't that great of a line, and really shouldn't work on anyone. Yet the way Jill said those words—the way she walked with absolute confidence, and her voice was as smooth as ever—it lit something inside Claire that she suddenly couldn't explain, and all she could say was…

"Uh, sure–?" She uttered out with a mix of confusion, surprise, and…an interesting dose of excitement.

"Great." Jill accepted it, and was content with her work for the day enough to begin walking back—with a flabbergasted Claire and semi entertained Rebecca following—towards the two men who were practically in their own little world—which would soon come to a speedy crash. "Is he asleep…?" She asked in a low voice.

The sound of Jill's harsh, sudden questioning was enough to jolt Leon awake from his relaxed and peaceful state, swiftly leaving his claimed spot on Chris's shoulder and very quickly deciding to pretend as if that was the last thing he was doing. And totally was not taking an extremely enjoyable nap on his quote on quote ‘friend's’ arm. Yet now he just looked plain freaked out instead of cool and collected. "Where the hell did you all come from–?"

"We were hanging around the corner, just to let you two have some quality time to yourselves.” Rebecca answered with her usual soft tone, though it was as clear as day she was in on whatever the three of them were conspiring over there. “Well, until Jill had something to say to you, I believe."

Chris audibly sighed, a bit bitter by the fact his moment was abruptly interrupted, but tried in his best efforts to keep calm about it, just for the 50\50 chance that whatever she had to say was important in some way, shape or form.

“What is it?”

“I asked your sister out, and she said sure.” Blunt as ever.

“You what?”

The silence had gotten so thick, you could cut it with a knife. And that soon faded into mindless staring—just waiting for someone to awkwardly cough, or say any sentence at all. Nobody was entirely sure if this was all a planned joke or quite literal.

“Jill what do you mean? Don’t walk away!” He threw his hands up in utter confusion as he chased after her down the sidewalk, itching to get a straighter answer and much needed context he clearly missed, whilst Rebecca kept on telling them not to banter so close to the busy road. Far too many times.

Leon didn’t give many words to the whole ordeal, and instead chose to simply watch in saddened disappointment as Chris left his side; he had a blatant frown as he put his hands back in his pockets, returning to the same state he’d been in all morning within the blink of an eye. Although he did have one question that took him a bit aback, out of everything that went down.

“I didn’t know you…well, you know, were into women–?” He tilted his head towards Claire with uncertainty to his own question, even if they’d been close friends for years now—new information still seemed to pop up out of the blue.

“I didn’t know you were into my brother.” She didn’t even have to look back at him to get her point across, and held back a large smile while doing so. She’d noticed his sudden spring of dismay the moment Chris walked off right away, of course, and couldn’t help but comment on it if no one else would.

The blond didn’t deny her accusation by any means, and simply took a stand by her side, a chuckle escaping his lips as they watched the other three repartee all across the street, a true sight for sore eyes getting to see them have a bit of fun.

“I don’t think he knows either.”

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karihighman · 1 year

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All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation 👀 angst era

#the rookie #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #chrischen #sorry chris #chris sanford #angst era #pining era #idiots in love #the rookie 5x06 #they said 👀

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royalwriteroftheuniverse · 2 years

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I Will never Forget He Never Did Either....

TRIGGER Warnings: death of a parent mentioned grieving sadness other than that angst and fluff and cake. Pick your Chris (pay attention to the cutie above)COMMENTS &REBLOGS WELCOME do not post or republish or translate anywhere

It seemed like everyone forgot, including my dad who ignored the day ...everyone...everyone except Chris.

Sure I never marked it on Facebook or social anymore it hurt too much (I dont care about social anymore anyway im never in it) but still... to have my dad pretend like it wasn't anything was heartbreaking seeing everyone forget wondering if that always how or if sometimes its not.

But it didnt change the fact that like I said everyone seemed to forget....everyone except Chris. He didn't say anything to me or text when he was away on this take hed never call or text about it but he was extra sweet. Extra caring.

To be honest I thought he forgot just like everyone else does a year so after someone looses someone. Thier birth stories are forgotten thier births are forgotten. But today Chris was extra sweet we both knew new why he was so cuddly in between shooting scene pulling me in his arms.

"Thank you."

I muttered one time in between shoots. He shook his head.

"You never have to thank me."

He was done shooting at a decent time. We got some takeout and went back to his place. I dont know how that man could be so sneaky but he could. He had a cake and we, well he cut two slices one for him and one for me I assumed, but we only took one out of the cake that we were sharing playing war with with our forks and I dont know how he did it or when but I suddenly saw the candle was lit. He silently got up and opened the window in the room. It was on the otberside, but still it was a nice night still and there isn't eally any breeze just a perfect light coolness. In the air but no breeze at all.

"Do you like the cake?"

"Mhm," I said putting some in my mouth.

" I wasn't sure what to get."

" To be honest I wouldn't either. I think my mom always got whatever she thought I'd like. She always put me first for everything."

"Well she raised an amazing daughter."

I couldnt help the tears that came to my eyes.

"And I bet you she always knew, and is so proud"

He bumped my shoulder playfully to try and get me to smile

"I wish I could've met her."

"Me too."

"But I know she is proud of you and I'd tell her I'd take the best care of her daughter I possibly could and how much I love you. Did she ever say if she liked my movies or no?"

"You know I dont know. One movie ai thought you were such an ass. She did say that I learn to love chest hair on men."

"Oh yeah? Is there a verdict?"

"I love you how you are."

"What a coincidence I love you too." He was leaning into kiss me (so was I to be honest) when there was a sudden woosh we looked up both of us confused. Then he put a smile on.

"I guess someone approves of us."

He was leaning into kiss me(so was I to be honest) when there was a sudden woosh we looked up both of us confused. Then he put a smile on. "I guess someone approves of us."

P.O.V. change

Chris wondered if the person or thing that blew out the candle on a still night knew about the engagement ring he was hiding on his sock drawer.... and if that was thier permission to him...

Taglist

@nana1000night @sapphire-rogers @hawkeyes-queen @sparklybarbarianninja @patzammit

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housewifebuck · 9 months

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Should I post some of my new wip for tidbit tuesday or do u horny freaks just want more onlyfans buck:/

#the new one is just. fluff and angst with zero plot #so far it’s like over a thousand words of buck and Chris making Eddie waffles #and buck pining so hard he’s about to pull smth #and I just started it this morning 😭#personal

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elenatria · 2 years

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Ao3 - "Intimacy"

“Catch up.”

Chris huffed at the snappy remark, giving the little skip that was expected of him each time Neil’s impatience woke him from his usual state of trance. Mr Universalis’ stride was always a bit too fast for him anyway, a bit too hasty, as if Mr Universalis had places to be – and Chris didn’t.

Maybe it’s them long legs, he pondered as his gaze slid up Neil’s calves, past the bump of his arse that bounced under black baggy trousers, until his eyes rested on the back of neatly coiffed curls.

N’aw wait, let’s linger a bi’ longer on that arse, shall we? I mean everyone else does, he shrugged to himself.

Chris had been asked before if he was jealous of Neil - of his popularity, his angel voice, his ability to beguile both men and women the minute he walked into a room. To be brutally honest, there was something exceedingly annoying about the way Neil always took the lead in a conversation, about his constant need to be in the spotlight. But no, Chris was not jealous of Neil – at least not in the way those nosy reporters wanted him to.

He glanced at the dark locks in front of him, his own hands stubbornly buried in the pockets of his jeans.

No touching, he reminded himself, not ever. It was The Law.

“Did ya get us anything to eat a’ least?” he asked trying to keep up with Neil’s brisk pace.

“Your favourite,” was Neil’s laconic answer as he turned to shake a paper bag in front of the younger man’s nose.

“What’s me favourite?” Chris wondered, baffled. “I have many favourites.”

“Help me find a place to sit and you’ll see,” said Neil with some heat.

Chris took a sharp breath in; if Neil wanted to take a walk along the South Bank instead of being at the studio recording songs about Elvis and dogs and dominoes, and if he chose a sandwich and a cup of tea instead of a proper meal and red wine, it only meant that Mr Eyebrows here needed the anonymity of a bench and lots of open space to breathe.

It meant he was upset.

Chris pushed himself forward with renewed energy; after all there was drama to be shared and food to be chomped on at the end of their quest for the perfect bench. Still, it was hard to keep up with those legs - long, lithe, driven by steel and purpose. Maybe it was also the fact that the owner of those endless limbs didn’t get as easily tired as Chris did. Neil was tireless. Neil was perfect.

Chris, on the other hand, was always tired; he would do anything lying down, eat and drink and have a shower and take a shit in bed if he could. The only occasions when he would jump to his feet without grunting was when he went clubbing with his friends, dancing until he burned holes in his shoes. Secondly, when inspiration struck him like lightning, when the keys were calling to him from the other room like a siren’s song, beckoning his well-trained fingers to coax otherworldly melodies and ecstatic beats from them; and finally, when tea and quiches were being served - that one was truly irresistible. He could never tell why those three things were such big motivators in his life, but they were.

Neil teased him mercilessly about his need to stay horizontal for the biggest part of the day, then again everything was funny to Mr Universalis when Chris was around; Neil could hardly keep a straight face when they were working together, ruining the shot with spontaneous bursts of laughter while Chris remained frozen like a statue and all serious-like. The director and the crew might get a tad annoyed, but Chris? He couldn’t help but take a little pride in the fact that his jokes always made Neil fold in half, his wide mouth opening even wider, his boyish high-pitched cawing filling the studio; as if the two of them were back in school, playing around with microphones and taking the mickey out of Modern Talking and Wham.

A loud swarm of highschoolers walked past them singing “You gotta fight for your right to party” and reminded Chris to take off his red baseball cap and place it urgently on Neil’s head.

“What are you doing?” demanded Neil fidgeting with the brim.

“Disguising us both,” replied Chris. “People expect to see me in a cap and you without it, not the other way round. And there are far too many schoolkids and tourists ‘ere, I can’t stand the staring.”

Neil heaved an impatient huff. “Nobody is staring at us, Lowe--” he said as he carefully brushed aside a strand of hair, tucking it under the cap.

“Well, now they’re no’. ‘Cause me hat trick actually works.”

Neil took off the red cap, stared at it for a couple of seconds and buried his nose in it, filling his lungs with its scent. “Oh my goodness, you’ve been sweating buckets in this thing, haven’t you?” he observed.

His words bore the distinctive sting of a typical Tennant reprimand whereas his eyelids, sliding closed as if lost in a dream, flickered with each deep breath, each long exhale and with what might have been a tiny, barely audible moan. Chris tried hard to keep his eyes trained on the distant hazy outline of the Parliament, resisting the urge to savour every little expression on Neil’s pixie-like face as it was being devoured by his cap – and the tantalizing sounds that came out of it.

The spell lasted no more than a few seductive seconds: Neil snapped his eyes open and placed the cap back on Chris’ head.

“You care too much about what people say,” he remarked.

“No, I don’,” Chris replied.

He was a simple man with simple needs who couldn’t stand being recognized in the streets – not that he ever was - and all he wanted right now was some peace and quiet to enjoy his ham sandwich in the park with his partner; because there was a ham sandwich in that paper bag Neil was holding, wasn’t there? And maybe chocolate muffins too, if he was lucky.

“There, let’s sit over there,” Neil pointed a finger at a large plane tree not far from the International Brigade memorial - a Lernaean Hydra of a beast with its bronze heads and fists melting into a massive U, desperately reaching for the sky. “Seems like a peaceful spot.”

“Peaceful, why? Are ya going to share state secrets wi’ me?” Chris teased.

“No, I’m this close to bursting to tears and I don’t want any spotty teenagers witnessing the sniveling mess I’m about to become,” Neil retorted as he shoved a leaf off the bench. “…Bad memories.”

He placed the paper bag and the cups of tea on the side and tapped the seat next to him, inviting Chris to sit down.

“Tears?” Chris furrowed his brow and settled next to Neil, sneaking glances at the crumpled paper bag that was way out of his reach. “What ‘appened?”

Neil drew in a shuddering breath. “I found this,” he murmured after a beat and pulled a pack of Marlboro out of his black jacket. “Under the bed.”

Chris almost flinched at the smelly rectangular object that might as well have CANCER written all over it. “Smokes,” he sneered. “Um… Okay...? Did ya find matches too?”

Neil glared at him. “That’s not funny, Lowe.”

“N’aw, ah mean, we could smoke the whole pack you and I – if… if we were smokers that is…? I mean hurray, free… fags…?” He twitched a half smile that wasn’t returned.

“No, Chris, we’re not smokers,” Neil hissed, “and neither is Julian.”

“Julian?!” Chris widened his eyes. “Nevah took ‘im for a smoker.”

“He is not,” Neil sighed. “This is someone else’s pack. I found it under his side of the bed two days ago, after I came back from the airport.” He began to rub his broad forehead vigorously as if to drill a hole in it, struggling to get rid of a horrible memory. “He said he’d never do it again,” he muttered, almost to himself. “H-he promised, he…” A wet sound escaped his throat; when he opened his mouth again his lips were trembling.

Chris had never felt his chest clenching so quickly, so violently, and all of a sudden it wasn’t sweet autumn anymore. Everything around them had turned into a cold relentless winter. He looked up at the sun wondering what was worse, burning his retinas forever or seeing Neil crying. When he turned to his friend again, Neil’s ridiculously long eyelashes had the unmistakable glint of tears. That moment Chris forgot all about ham sandwiches and quiches and strawberry muffins, and the noisy crowd around them had been reduced to nothing more than a whisper: Neil was the only thing there was, the only thing his eyes and ears could focus on. And Neil was hurting.

He considered wrapping an arm around his boy’s shoulders but their unspoken vow made him stop: no gifts, no cards, no touching. Everything else was allowed but that kind of silly hurtful intimacy was not on the menu, not for them. They were here for the music, the euphoria, for the happiness of being creative together. Not for jealousy or indiscreet questions, and certainly not for touching. Touching was one complication in their creative lives they didn’t need.

Still, he fanned out his fingers just enough to feel the heat, his palm ghosting a mere inch over the curve of Neil’s back.

He’s hurting, don’ do it, this is no’ what he needs right now. Fuck, he’s sobbing.

Chris’ fingers curled promptly into a fist. He didn’t touch, he would never stoop to that; instead, he ran a slow finger down the seam of Neil’s sleeve. The message was clear: here for you. You know it.

“How can you be sure he brought a lovah in your apartment?” he said softly. “Maybe it was a friend sitting on the bed and smoking?”

“Then how do you explain these?” sobbed Neil pulling a little bundle of thin plastic foils out of his pocket. “I--I had thrown away the garbage before leaving for the airport, I always do. Then I came back to fuh—” he choked, “t-to find the bin full of them.” His hand was shaking.

One of the foils slipped out of his open palm and landed next to Chris’ trainer. The torn silver wrapper gave a nasty sparkle: condoms.

Chris wrinkled his nose. “You’re gonna have to pick tha’ up ‘cause I’m no’ going to.”

Back to cracking jokes it was – his one and only defense against the world, life, and the one thing that stood between him and true happiness: feelings.

“I’ll-pick-the-bloody-thing-up…” Neil whimpered as he wiped his nose with the heel of his palm. “I need it for evidence after all,” he sniffled lifting the wrapper from the ground. “I need to rub it in his face.”

Chris shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever for? If he was screwing someone else, I’m sure no confrontation would make ‘im stop. We’ve been through this before. And if he wasn’t and you ‘ave just forgotten that you left the wrappers there yerself, then that’s unnecessary drama that is.”

Neil tilted his head on the side, glowering at him as tears kept running down his chin. “Unnecessary drama. How dare you. With Julian nothing is unnecessary drama.”

“It bloody is,” Chris insisted. “If he can’t help it, he can’t help it. And he never said ‘e loved ya, you told me that. Besides you don’ need ‘im, do ya? You could phone up what’s-his-name, Kerem, seems like a nice bloke. Or Carl. Or--”

Neil narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “You don’t understand, Julian and I were going steady. This is no run-of-the-mill relationship, Chris, this is the real thing. He’s the one.”

Chris took a moment to study Neil’s face hoping that he was joking, wondering if ‘deNeil’ was ever used as an alternate spelling for ‘denial’: nope, his lovestruck heartbroken mate was dead serious.

He dragged his hands over his face. “Neil. Neil. Ugh.If this was‘the real thing’ he wouldn’t be shagging someone else, now would ‘e?”

“Well…” faltered Neil as he scratched the back of his head, “it’s not like I didn’t have my moments of weakness myself,” he shrugged and a flush of embarrassment rose to his tear-stained cheeks. “But that’s in the past,” he lifted a finger to stop Chris from even opening his mouth, “I told him it would never happen again. Because I love him, Chris. Because I want to be with him. I just…” He drew in a shaky breath. “I just thought he felt the same…” he trailed off. “I just thought—"

Fresh tears rolled down Neil’s baby cheeks.

Chris shoved a hand into his pocket, pulled a tissue out of the pack and handed it to him. “ ‘Ere. Dry your eyes, man, ye’re a mess,” he said gently managing a timid smile.

Neil took the tissue and wiped his cheeks and nose with small pats.

“Maybe…” Chris shrugged knowing that what he was about to say might not be the most comforting of suggestions, “maybe monogamy is not your thing, y’know?” He chewed on his lip, wary of the look on Neil’s face. “Maybe you boys should ‘ave an open relationship…?”

Neil gave his nose one last wipe and folded the tissue carefully before hiding it in his pocket. “I’m done with open relationships,” he answered. “I want to settle down. I’m sick of it all.”

Neil’s statement was so shocking that Chris gave out a hearty guffaw, his cap almost falling off his head; when he turned to Neil again, his eyes opening even wider at the realisation that this lad wasn’t joking, he burst into a fit of laughter so loud and hysterical that he frightened off the pigeons around them. Inch by inch he collapsed on the bench, rubbing his eyes with both palms as thick waves of laughter weakened into small giggles - and yet, between wiping tears and trying to take deep breaths, he could see The Pout of Doom out of the corner of his eye: Mr Neil Francis Tennant was not amused.

“Settle down?” Chris mocked despite the storm brewing in Neil’s gaze, “ye can’t be serious, mate?!”

“Why not?” Neil flared.

“Because…” Chris folded his arms across his chest, “because you’re no’ the type to settle down, thass ‘WHY’”. The words came out too quickly, the ‘why’ too cocky. “From the day I met ya I don’ even remember ‘ow many guys you’ve been with, I mean do you?...”

It took him a few seconds to realise that all of the colour had drained from Neil’s face.

Neil blinked at him slowly, his eyes still red from crying, his beautifully curved lips glistening with drying tears.

“How do you know ‘my type’, Chris?” he muttered with a weak whispery voice, his gaze brimming with anger and hurt. “How do you know the first thing about me?”

Chris bit down on his lip hard, hoping that the copper taste of blood would eventually take his mind off the ice in Neil’s tone. If only he could turn back time and erase the last few seconds, unsay the last few sentences. He was notorious for his strong outrageous opinions. He knew how harsh he could be, how his words could cut like a knife. It was always better to put a cork in it and keep to himself, wasn’t it? Better for everyone.

He couldn’t even glance at Neil now; instinctively he placed his fingers on his mouth (he would have shoved a fist in it if he could, if that could prevent him from spitting out more tosh) and began to bite his nails; when that childhood habit did nothing to appease the guilt that was raging in him, he slouched in his little corner of the bench trying to make himself as tiny as a mouse, to slip through the planks like an envelope.

Seconds of silence dragged on like thick clouds, broken only by Neil’s sniffles and the occasional cooing of pigeons that had returned, fluttering around their feet in search of crumbs and leftovers.

Chris heaved a deep sigh.

Enough.

He would be a good lad this time. Promise.

“I’m sorry, Neil,” he muttered. “I didn’… I didn’ mean to call ya a tart or anything. It’s jus’…” He turned to the beautiful desperate man next to him whose eyes were now glued to the ground, refusing to spare him a single glance. “It’s juss’ that…”, he shook his head with a deep frustrated huff, his unfinished sentence hanging in the air, heavy with regret. “You deserve so much more than easy shags and guys who cheat on ya the moment you walk through the bloody door to go to the bloody grocery store across the bloody street, d’y’know what I mean? You deserve to not be treated like junk. You deserve to not have your heart stomped all over.”

Neil scoffed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “If only that was easy.”

Chris flicked a nervous tongue over his lips; he never made a big statement without a touch of irony to go with it -or an impertinent snicker- but Neil needed to hear this right now. And Chris needed to say it.

Fuck it, just say it.

“To me you’re perfect, Neil,” he said in one breath as a tint of colour rose on his cheeks. “You are perfection personified.”

Stop it. Oh God, you’re embarrassing yourself.

Neil huffed out a chuckle. “Yeah, right. Stop teasing.”

“No no, Neil, I’m serious,” persisted Chris.

He took a deep breath as he found it harder and harder to look him in the eye.

“You deserve to be loved,” he continued. “You deserve to not have your heart broken every time you decide to trust someone. Thass’ what I meant by ‘perfect’: I believe you’re perfectly capable of seeing the good and the bad in people - even if you choose to ignore it. I believe you’re a genius and a nice person who deserves whass’ best in life. I juss’ think--” He turned to meet Neil’s gaze. “I juss’ think… it’s about bleedin’ time you believed it too. When you truly believe you deserve the best, in your heart o’ hearts, you will no longer be able to put up with the people that don’t. D’y’know what I mean?”

Neil blinked at him once, twice, before raising one glorious brow as if he just had the most profound of revelations, his sapphire eyes shimmering in the sun like an ocean of gratitude.

Chris felt his stomach tighten for what seemed like an eternity; he just sat there stunned, amazed, utterly consumed by Neil and his full moon eyes, Neil and his fairy tale face.

If he says ‘Thank you, Chris’, I swear I’m gonna die.

Neil’s lips parted with some hesitance, waiting, as if his brilliant sensitive mind was carefully choosing the words to make the perfect poem, to form the perfect rhyme.

Chris held his breath.

“…Did you rehearse this speech?” Neil deadpanned. “Is it the new song you were telling me about? Because if you came up with these lyrics just now, oh my goodness, they’re smashing,” he added with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Chris’ mouth slacked open.

With a groan he threw up his hands in utter exasperation. “… You’re a royal arsehole, Tennant, d’y’know that?...”

Neil fell back on the bench, bursting into peals of laughter. “What?” he tittered with a Bugs Bunny grin slapped across his face, “I thought I was ‘perfection personified’, don’t go changing your mind on me now?!”

Prat.

“Screw you. Ugh. Why do I even bother,” exhaled Chris burying his face in his palms.

He had just made a complete fool of himself, hadn’t he? Opening his heart like that, being a sincere little pillock, and for what? Bollocks. He should be angry, furious, and he should stay furious, forever.

But all effort to stay angry with this man was futile: Neil’s happy contagious laughter was enveloping them like a soft breeze - and there, in that park overlooking the Thames, as if struck by a magic wand, it was autumn again, an autumn that felt a lot like summer. A glorious hot summer day, blooming in the middle of October.

“A’ least I made ya laugh, didn’ I?” the younger man snarled, his arms stubbornly wrapped around his ribs.

Neil placed a hand on Chris’ shoulder; his laughter was gurgling and uncontrollable and flowing wildly like a river but the touch was soft, considerate. Chris realised with some astonishment that this was the first time Neil was actually touching him, the first time those gentle fingers were kneading into his shoulder and back, pressing into his skin with wordless love and gratitude. And the feeling of it - oh God, it was heavenly.

“Don’t scowl, Chrissy, c’mon,” Neil pleaded, his tear-stained face beaming like sunshine after the rain. “It’s hard not to laugh when you get a serious face like that,you know it.” Another chuckle rose to his lips but Chris’ death stare made him swallow it. “Besides I wasn’t laughing at what you said. I was laughing because… it’s embarrassing, really. To have you of all people say those things to me. Yes, I’m sure I’m perfection personified and the nicest person that ever walked this earth and so on and so forth…” he bowed his head as if to thank an invisible audience, his hand remaining firmly on Chris’ shoulder. “…But you were wrong about one thing.”

“What?”

“Yes, there’s a genius right here, sitting on this very bench, a brilliant musician who can throw a real party and make people happy without tequila,” said Neil as his lips curled into a smile, wide and confident and going all the way to his eyes, “but I assure you that’s not me.”

Chris held onto his frown stubbornly, the corners of his mouth forming a perfect arch of discontentment. He just sat there, stone-faced in his own sullen corner of the bench, dodging Neil’s cheerful gaze and wondering if they’d ever get to eat that sodding muffin for God’s sake.

“You’re the keyboard wizard here, not me,” Neil insisted, his voice filled with warm admiration, “and that is what makes you perfect. That’s the only reason – that and your superb dancing skills – why I found your speech a little funny,” he chuckled and his eyes sparkled with delight. “So don’t give me that ‘you’re a genius’ speech because I don’t want to hear it. Not from you.”

Chris shifted in his seat; getting unsolicited praise from Neil Tennant was the most uncomfortable thing in the world. Screw those nosy journalists and their indiscreet questions, this was ten times worse.

“…It wasn’t a speech,” he mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“I said, tha’ wasn’t a ‘speech’,” Chris blared out.

Neil’s lips twisted into an enigmatic smirk. “I know,” he said, his voice as calm and steady as the whispering wind.

He let out a deep sigh and rested his cheek on Chris’ shoulder, his perfectly styled curls almost brushing against the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry for venting out like this on you,” he sighed letting his eyelids drop. “You have your own problems as it is. It’s just that… I want to truly belong to someone for once in my life, that’s all. I want to be able to trust.”

Chris gave a slight shrug, careful not to let Neil’s head slip off his shoulder. “Well… you belong to me,” he hummed, his light-hearted tone doing its best to veil the thunder of his beating heart. “You’re my very own Homo Universalis. Has anyone ever called you tha’?”, he cracked a little smile. “No. You’re mine then.”

Neil gave a gurgle of laughter. “Oh, I’m homo all right,” he joked as he reached for their cups and took a sip from his tea without leaving Chris’ shoulder. “Whether I’m ‘universalis’ as well is up to historians and anthropologists, I suppose.”

“Piss off,” Chris laughed giving Neil’s cheek a little slap. “You know what I mean. You could spend the whole night explaining the October Revolution to me, or giving a detailed analysis on each and every graffiti ever sprayed on the Berlin Wall. And then, in the wee hours o’ the morning, you’d probably recite the complete works of T.S. Eliot or some old thing – because this is who you are. You do all those things, you know all those things and you’re still no’ satisfied, you still don’ believe you deserve more. Why?”

Neil shrugged. “Dunno. Wrong choices, childhood insecurities, haven’t found the right partner yet. Take your pick.”

Chris gave a disappointed huff searching in vain for answers in the leafy branches that rustled over their heads; this man would never truly open up to him, would he? But maybe it was better this way, he reckoned, keeping the mystery and all; they would probably end up breaking each other’s hearts anyway.

“We goin’ to eat or wha’?” he asked gesturing impatiently at the paper bag at the other end of the bench. “It’s getting cold.”

“You eat, I’m going to take a little kip,” Neil yawned and slid down Chris’ lap, stretching out a pair of slender legs along the bench and putting his feet up. “Chasing after Julian is exhausting.”

“Oh for God’s sake, get rid o’ tha’ fookin’ prick already,” Chris moaned.

Instead of an answer Neil floated his eyes shut, his fingers interlacing on his belly, the bow of his smile relaxing into an expression of softness and bliss.

Chris’ stomach had started growling even before Neil decided to use the bench as a bed, but now he wasn’t feeling it anymore. The sensation of Neil’s head lolling against his thigh was overwhelming enough to take his mind off the food and make him think how easily he could spend the rest of his life with Neil in his arms, on that bench, listening to the Thames roaring just a few feet underneath.

Neil cleared his throat and crossed his legs, the black leather of his shoes glistening in the afternoon sun. He wasn’t sleeping; he was drinking in the atmosphere.

“Third of October…” he murmured without opening his eyes. “Hm. It’s your birthday tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh…” Chris said dully giving Neil’s words little attention.

His mind had already wandered off, lost in the comforting white noise of people chattering in the distance and the cozy feel of Neil’s hair against his lap - touching it being only a matter of inches and unspoken vows.

Neil flew his eyes open and looked up at him, his long eyelashes flickering away the drowsiness. “What gift do you want for your birthday?”

“I though’ we said no gifts, no cards, no sex,” said Chris impassively, still absorbed in the chirping of birds and its hypnotizing tempo.

“Did we really say that?” Neil wondered creasing his brow. “Hm. I don’t seem to recall such a conversation taking place.” He rested his hands on his stomach. “Well, I mean it’s your birthday,” he insisted. “It’s cheat day, you can have anything you want. Just ask.”

Chris took his eyes from the dancing clouds above them and looked down: his boy was still there, motionless, resting on his lap. Talking nonsense, waiting for him to give an answer to something he had barely heard - or to make his move. He felt his smile grow as he gazed down on the beautiful man who was looking back at him and with a soft chuckle he wiggled his fingers through the mist of Neil’s locks.

Neil parted his lips in a soft sigh, his lids falling heavy, his eyes, fixed on Chris’, overflowing with emotion. It could be anything, Chris thought, any old feeling.

Anticipation.

Yearning.

Love.

“What do you want?” Neil repeated, an expectant half smile flitting over his lips. “Just say it.”

Chris ran his fingers through Neil’s chestnut hair, tidying it up, picking a little twig that had nestled in it. “Nah,” he said tossing away the twig, “I have everything I need right ‘ere…”

His smile softened as he let his hand hover over Neil’s cheek, stretching it hesitantly across his chest and abdomen and reaching as far as his thigh. As he bent over him, their faces all but touching, he felt rather than heard Neil’s breath hitching. He paused for a second contemplating Neil’s porcelain features, wondering if his mouth was as pillowy and soft as he imagined it to be.

Was this a good time? Was ever a ‘good time’?

When he lifted his eyes again, he found that his arm was stretched enough to finally reach for his ‘birthday gift’: the crumpled paper bag that was resting next to Neil’s thigh, at the far end of the bench. He dragged it closer, dove his hand in it and with a content hum he pulled out what seemed to be the biggest, most fabulous ham sandwich this side of the Thames.

As he took a whiff of the delectable snack, he pretended he didn’t notice Neil’s eyes darting out (Ha! I can still surprise ya),finding an inkling of evil satisfaction in his disappointment; he went on to fumble with the remaining contents of the bag, wrinkled his brow at the one important thing that was missing and finally bit off a big chunk of the sandwich.

“… Although I wouldn’t mind a chocolate muffin to go with it,” he quipped as crumbs fell off his mouth.

Neil’s puzzled pout curled instantly into a vengeful little smirk; without sitting up, without even having to look at his target, he stretched an arm over his head to punch Chris right in the shoulder.

With an oof Chris spat out a mouthful of bread, tomato and ham, laughing and coughing his lungs out. “Tha’ hurt!”

“I hope it did,” Neil shot back with a playful glint in his eyes. He wriggled himself into a more comfortable position, put his arms behind his head and slid his eyes shut for a second time.

Chris took another bite from the sandwich, his gaze following the course of a seagull that was flying against the wind. The grace. The expertise. The exquisite stillness as he was finally gliding the current, like he had done a hundred times before. His feathers reminded Chris of black keys and white keys and the elaborate synth sounds that came out of them, perfectly placed, perfectly balanced.

He felt his fingers drumming on his knee, following the pulse of a melody that only he could hear; to him everything was rhythm, and it was nothing short of divine.

He shot Neil a glance.

Maybe this was a good time or maybe this was a bad time.

Maybe he’d rather write music than kiss him.

Maybe there were too many feelings involved or no feelings at all.

He knew that there were answers to all those very important questions - but today was not the day for them. Today was the day to be ecstatic with the balmy breeze caressing his skin, to enjoy what he never knew he wanted, to cherish his early birthday gift:

Neil in his arms, a bench, and the Thames roaring just a few feet underneath.

#pet shop boys #lowetennant #chris lowe #neil tennant #psb #rpf #ao3 #intimacy #psb fanfiction #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #pep talk #friends to lovers #pining #secret crush #slow burn #real person fiction

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astraystayyh · 2 months

Text

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation.

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.

He’s beautiful.

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice.

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly.

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.”

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.”

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants.

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back.

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.

“Touché.”

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you.

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?”

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.”

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around.

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.

One hour later

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back.

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

“You made them?”

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two.

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.”

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.”

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.

ii.

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.”

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.”

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose.

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.”

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.”

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror.

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.”

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.”

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.”

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it?

Your facade cracks. His voice wins.

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.”

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?”

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

“I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

“I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

“You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

“I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

“Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head.

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.”

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.”

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.

One week later.

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm.

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.

“Will she be okay?”

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?”

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.”

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.”

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.”

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.”

“Can I read what you wrote?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?”

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.”

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?”

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.”

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.”

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.”

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?”

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.”

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing.

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you.

You wished to be the only one Chris liked.

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper.

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it.

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.”

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.

iv.

You’re avoiding him.

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!”

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?”

“Okay!”

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner.

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.

“What happened to connected Chris?”

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.

you win.

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later).

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.

It's her first time calling you mom.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently.

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

#skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz fanfic #chan fluff #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz au

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burnthatbridge · 10 days

Text

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know)

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious. “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all.

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed.

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled.

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress.

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul.

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it.

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t.

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission.

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else.

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to.

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him.

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie.

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.”

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it.

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them.

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.”

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping.

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

#do we need to see where this goes next?#or is it good as is?#these are the questions that haunt me #(also i am totally avoiding writing chapter 5 of my wip please don't kill me)#buddie #bucktommy #buddie fic #bucktommy fic #911 fic #911 #911 abc #myfic

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roseglazedlens · 9 months

Text

⦑ a kiss away ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x afab!reader synopsis: you and leon were supposed to be just friends. until one night, an impromptu kiss changed the trajectory of your relationship. content: smut 18+ only mdni, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, mutual pining, oral (m receiving), p in v, degration, hair pulling READ THE PREQUEL HERE « words: 2.1k┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreicated! »

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

You can’t stop thinking about Leon’s calloused fingers grazing over the plump of your cheek, scorching your skin with hands so cold it reminded you of the rifles you handled during those gruelling winter missions. You can’t stop thinking about how his pupils flared, and you basked in the glazed cerulean of his irises, so clear you could see yourself through them.

Worst of it all, you can’t stop thinking about him.

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Leon Kennedy is your friend, your best friend. Your first meeting was five years ago on the field, clicked instantly from sharing the same corny sense of humour, and since then, your dynamic with him has been strictly platonic. You told him about all your exes, your sex life in detail, who you dated and when you had your one night stands. Hell, you even told him about your revolting bad habits that you kept secret from your exes. There was no chance this man could fall in love with someone like you, right?

…Right?

Truth is, you valued your relationship with Leon so much that you’re unwilling to risk it. You two connected beyond the small stuff, sometimes you find your conversations take a philosophical turn. You two discussed about life, family, dreams for a better world – it’s not the kind of connection you can find again.

And now you two have shared a kiss.

You were startled by the sound of your ringtone chanting through the Bluetooth speakers of your car, piercing through your train of thought. Your brain assigned autopilot, navigating you home after a laborious mission in the middle of Texas for the past two weeks. Darting your eyes at the screen, you recognised the familiar name on your contact list.

Leon. Speak of the devil.

You clicked a button on the side of your wheel. The ringing stopped, and the line connected. Immediately, you were embraced by a glee in Leon’s voice, but only ever so subtly.

“Hey. Welcome back.”

“How’d you know I’m back?” You gripped the steering wheel, a tiny concern brewed in you, worried he would catch your unusual behaviour.

“Chris told me. He’s surprised you didn’t say anything.”

A deep sigh left your throat from your core. You couldn’t exactly tell Leon that you needed time, time to catch a breath, time to process your yearn for this man. No matter how understanding he could have been.

There was no use hiding – Chris would have told him about your whereabouts if you didn’t. Chris and Leon are close friends after all.

“Can’t get a moment of peace with you two around.”

“Next time, call me. I can pick you up.” Your pulse took a leap. In another time or situation, those words would not meant anything to you. It was just how Leon was, his instincts to help others extended into his personal life too.

“So you don’t fall asleep on the wheel, stupid. Your death will not be on my conscience.”

That earned a giggle in your books. You could tell Leon’s light teasing was an attempt to comfort you, to make you laugh, to hear the snorty chuckle between your lips.

“Don’t worry. If I pass, I’ll make sure to haunt you for the rest of your life. Regardless whose fault it is.” You quipped.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Despite his sarcasm, Leon’s voice warmed at the sound of your laugh. You couldn’t help but appreciate these moments like this with him, and you prayed what you had together would never go away.

“Anyway, get some rest. I’ll bring you some food to your place at eight.”

You appreciated how he remembered that you prefer to stay home directly after a mission. After difficult missions, the presence of people could be daunting and uneasy.

Leon’s the exception.

He always brought a peace offering – a chicken sandwich from your favourite deli, a viral dessert you saw in a store once, your usual frappuccino order with ten customisations… If you want it, he got it for you.

“See you soon.” He hung up and you drove home.

You’re thankful for internalised heating and electric blankets. They’ve became necessities for post mission self-care routine like this one. You scrubbed yourself down, cleansing the scent of blood, grease and dirt that clings deeply to your body. So when you finished, you feel rejuvenated. You napped, checked for new mail, checked for bad food in the fridge and took care of any errands you missed when you had to leave swiftly for the mission.

You waited and waited. It was almost eighty-fourty, with nothing but a brief text that penned “Running late” from Leon. You texted back, no follow-ups, no ‘seen’, no double checkmark. You wondered what was taking him so long, before the bell buzz at your door.

You opened the door, prepared to give him a lecture, just to find Leon with a familiar takeaway bag in his hands.

“No way… Is that…?”

“Yes. It’s from your favourite place.”

“Wait, the one that��s always has a long line…?”

Leon helped himself into your apartment. His hair soaked, it shimmered under the ceiling light of your apartment. He must have waited a whole hour in the rain.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you would be nice.”

You hurried to your cupboard, picked up a fresh towel and handed it to Leon for him to dry off.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

Leon nodded, a gentle grin at the corner of his lips knowing that you’re grateful of his gesture. And you genuinely did. No man, no ex, no friend you knew would do things for you to this extent. With your help, Leon removed his wet jacket and revealed his top also drenched underneath, clinging to every bump, every muscle on his torso. You swallowed deeply, slotting your eyes anywhere but his chest.

“I’ve got spare clothes in the car.”

You insisted on grabbing Leon’s clothes for him, thankful for the opportunity to take yourself away from the situation. You took the keys, and took in some fresh air. Anything to distract yourself from imagining your best friend naked on the top half. You opened the truck, retrieved his spare clothes in his gym bag and returned to your home.

When the door opened, you found Leon with his shirt already removed, revealing those sculpted muscles from the results of his vigorous training.

“Sorry. It gets uncomfortable when it’s sticky.”

You gawked, your eyes planted on the slopes of Leon’s tauted arms, pelvis line drawing a deep v into his crotch. He’s showing off. You know it. You struggled through the desire of staring knowing it will just rub his ego even further, but your eyes betrayed you. Leon observed you, a smug grin that made you hold back a punch.

“Like what you see?”

Leon strided towards you, taking his time. You had plenty of chances to walk away now, but your feet are planted to the floor, his dry clothes still in your hand. With a hand over your head, Leon closed the entrance door, and shifted close enough for you to catch his scent – the musky woodiness mixed with rain and his odour enveloped your nose – his signature cologne.

A hand reached to your waist, pulled you in his embrace.

“Do you want to see the rest?”

His breath tickled your ears as he whispered.

You forgot how attractive Leon could be. How others flock to his attention. Begged me to give them his number. With full confidence, you believed those charms didn’t work on you. Blissfully unaware that Leon chose to withdraw his charms in front of you, contrasting to the unadulterated need his body radiated right now.

Breath tightened, pulse sped, unable to keep up with your thoughts. You felt a sensation shot down your spinal cord, knees trembled slightly, a look of mischief clung to Leon’s face. Your body betrayed you, nodding incessantly.

“So honest.”

Leon feet guided you to the couch, sat you till your eyes level to the bulge in his jeans. The blond undid his first button, and your gaze followed the zipper downwards. Leon grabbed underneath his boxers, and his dick sprung free onto his abdomen. With a curled fist, Leon hovered it at the bridge of your nose and pumped it a few times in your direct line of sight.

“Wet it for me, baby.”

He teased, inching his cock closer to the pucker of your lips.

Saliva gathered at the back of your throat, your tongue desperate to feast on him. A droplet of precome leaked from his tip. You grazed your tongue on the tiny slit, circulating the drop all over your mouth until it blended in your saliva. The light hint of saltiness was there, and it was gone again.

Leon hitched a breath, his hands crawling down your head to pull your hair back loosely for easier moment. You hollowed your cheeks, and slide his girth between your lips. Light gasp turned to needy grunts, the hands groping your hair tightened, pushing you further inside.

You curled your tongue all over the head, coating it with your slick, indulging in the smell of sweat intertwined with his sex. Corner of your lips dribbled down your neck, eyes forced shut from the ache of the shape of his cock head engraved in the back of your throat. But you couldn’t get enough. You let a hand go from Leon’s thigh, and reached for your underwear instead.

“Look at you. Can’t even wait five minutes.”

Leon’s blue eyes glistened with cunningness. His hand tugged harshly at your hair, eliciting a pained groan that pulled you off his cock out with a pop. With one swift motion, Leon removed your top and pants, until you are bare in nothing but your underwear. He slid his hand underneath you, pushed your underwear aside, and felt the stickiness as a finger went inside you.

“God, you want this so much, huh?”

“S-Shut up and fuck me, Leon.”

Leon’s expression changed when you told him that. It triggered something carnal within, and shoved your back onto the couch, underwear pushed aside, cock teased your entrance. With one deep breath, Leon thrusted himself in you, ignoring your needy pleas. You shrieked in pleasure, your jaw drowned in the juncture between his neck and shoulders, nails clawing his back.

“You’re sucking me in, baby…”

Leon’s skin flushed red, his sculpted shoulders strained in delight at the impact.

Without further ado, Leon slammed into your swollen, needy cunt. Squelches and the slap of skin to skin hovered the air, and a stir developed in your body, threatened to release. Your eyes tried to brace shut, but Leon’s hand stroked your face when you did, demanding you to look at him. Until your thoughts were filled with him as you finished together. Leon followed, removed you quickly and landed the streams of come on your lower belly.

It was supposed to be a moment of euphoria, but Leon’s expression turned grim, parting from your embrace after his fingers dwelled lightly on your shoulder blades.

“You should have run when you had the chance.”

Leon sighed, regret forming at his tongue.

“You could have had a normal life, be with someone who doesn’t chase death like me. But now that I have you, it’s impossible to let you go. I can’t ignore wanting you anymore.”

You sensed years of agony and sorrow behind his cerulean eyes – you never noticed these emotions he kept so secretively in his heart. How much did he had to suffer when you told him of all your relationships in the past, and Leon supported you each and every time. No matter how terrible your exes treated you.

“That’s not the life I want.” You affirmed, two fingers brushed his lips and reached his jaw. “I don’t want an easy life, Leon. I don’t care how hard it is. I want to be by your side.”

Leon pulled you in tighter into his familiar embrace. He laid his lips against yours, and you are reminded of that intimate kiss you shared two weeks ago. The passion, minty sweetness of gum is so distinctly Leon.

It was his plea, begged you to notice how much Leon loved you. How far he will go to make you happy. It took you so long, but you could finally accept him. You returned the kiss, just as gentle, loving – a silent vow to Leon that you will make him happy as he lived.

“Come on, baby. Let’s eat. The pizza’s already cold.”

EDIT: I wrote a prequel to this! thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil smut #leon kennedy smut #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil #fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you

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bloatedandalone04 · 2 months

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Good as Gold

➪the one where leon fell in love with you from the second he saw you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, indications of smut, leon pining over you, jealous leon, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood, blood, descriptions of blood + injuries, you all really need to stop with those foul leon fics, i am so serious, he deserves some fluff once in a while, damn

Word Count: 5.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The first time Leon saw you, he knew he wanted to do everything in his power to protect you, despite you being a very good agent and more than capable of protecting yourself.

Still, he knew he wanted to be around you all the time, and he was quite certain he was in love with you after the first conversation the two of you had.

When you and he were assigned as partners for this mission where he and you had to act like a couple, he was borderline thrilled, then he realized he would be spending most of his time looking out for you instead of actually getting the information he needed from the doctors.

It was an attempt at stopping a virus before it got out, and Leon had to go full camouflage for this one. He cut his hair short and hated it immediately, but the look you gave him once you saw it for the first time had him appreciating it a bit more.

He had to wear a suit that night, and even he thought he looked quite nice, but nowhere near as good as you looked. You were given a dark blue dress with a slit in the side, and he was obsessed with it from the minute he saw it.

Then you hooked your arm in his and stayed glued to his side the whole night as you both listened to the drunk doctors spill all the information on the virus, and the recorder in Leon’s suit pocket caught everything.

When you two got back to the hotel you were staying at for just one night, you fell asleep with your head on Leon’s chest, still wearing that sinful dress he wanted to take off you. Neither of you planned for that mission very well, even forgetting to pack extra clothes, so you both had to sleep in your formal attire. Leon took off his jacket and put it over you while you slept, and he spent his night trying to figure out how to face you the next morning after finding out how well your body fit against his own.

He didn’t mean to, really. They had given him a room with only one bed, and neither of you wanted the other to sleep on the uncomfortable couch in the corner.

You talked about everything and nothing at all, and Leon was so close to saying those three words to you, but decided it wasn’t the best time.

Oh, how he regretted that one.

Another mission you were given together had the addition of Chris, and that annoyed Leon since he knew the Redfield brother had a thing for you, too. It was annoying because Leon didn’t just have a thing for you, he was in love with you, and had been for a year at that point.

The mission was going well, but Leon had to continuously watch Chris flirt with you, and you did nothing about it since you had no idea about the way Leon felt about you. He was extremely good at hiding it, though he did try to show it in subtle ways; like keeping you behind him at all times whenever you were near something potentially dangerous, or how he loosely laced his fingers with yours under the table as you and he debriefed from missions, how he always let you come to him whenever the weight of the job felt like it was too much for you to handle.

He did all of it for you, and he wished he was man enough to do more.

Because now he watched as Chris brushed your messy hair behind your ear as you caught your breath from the ten minute sprint you all just did to escape the infected villagers in the tunnels.

Leon reloaded his gun as he took off in a random direction, muttering something to you about staying with Chris as he went to search for more ammo and weapons.

Maybe it was petty, and maybe he was acting like a child, but he couldn’t help it.

He regretted it, though, because as soon as he got back to you and Chris, the villagers had found their way to the three of you, and they weren’t letting up this time.

Leon’s ears were ringing as three different guns fired in opposite directions, and when he turned to check on you after hearing your quiet cry, his beloved gun almost slipped from his fingers as he saw the pitchfork that was embedded in your abdomen.

He watched as Chris shot both the pitchfork wielder as well as another villager that was coming for you in your weakened state. He watched as you pulled the pitchfork out of you and feebly tossed it aside, and he watched as your body betrayed itself and began to sink to the ground.

Before you could reach it, Leon finally snapped out of it and nearly got impaled himself as he ran over to you. He heard the sound of Chris shooting the man who tried giving Leon the same fate as you as he caught your body and lowered both himself and you to the ground.

Blood formed on three places on your shirt, and Leon pressed his whole hand and forearm down against them without thinking twice. Your cry of pain had him wincing as he looked over at your pale face, and he felt his heart rate spike as he saw the blood that began pooling in your mouth. “Hey,” he said quietly as Chris single-handedly took out the last four guys before he was crouching on the other side of you. “Keep your eyes open for me.”

You give him a pointed look, even in your current state, as you mumble, “I’m trying to,”

“I know,” he muttered as he looked over at Chris, panic poorly hidden on both their faces. “What do we do? We can’t leave her. We need to get her out of here, she needs-”

“I know, Leon,” Chris cut him off, and Leon was sure the brunet was surprised at how quickly Leon had lost all control the second you had gotten hurt. “You need to get her out of here. Find the surface as fast as you can, and don’t look back for anything.”

Chris tried to take control of the situation as best as he could, but Leon was barely listening as he looked back down at you and saw your emotionless face staring back up at him. A ghost of a smile was on your lips, but he knew you were fading quickly. “Hey,” he called again, much stricter this time, but you just blinked slowly. “Stay with me, okay? You’re not dying today. Not here.”

“Leon,” Chris said, reaching over and grabbing his shoulder. “You need to focus. Get her out of here, I’ll take care of the rest, you both need to get out of here. Now.”

Leon barely nodded as he picked you up and wrapped his arms around your middle and under your thighs. You cry again, and Leon doesn’t look back at Chris as he takes off in the direction you all came from. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, refusing to stop as he ran through the tunnel and towards where he hoped the surface was.

He knew he was abandoning the mission, even though he was advised to never do that. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t just leave you to die, he wouldn’t.

“Leon,” you whispered, and it had him moving even faster. “It’s okay, I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.”

He knew you were going into shock, and he refused to see you reach the stage that came after that as he kicked open the gate and fled from the tunnels. “You’re okay,” he rasped as he ran through the small town and towards the Jeep. “You’re okay, baby.”

The name slipped out before he could stop it, but he didn’t care at this point, and neither did you as you smiled up at him. “I’ve always wanted to hear you call me that,” you confessed in a tired voice as he finally reached the car. “You’re my favorite person, Leon. I..”

Leon looked down and saw that your eyes were closed now, and he cursed as he opened the back door and gently set you down on the seats. He climbed in with you as he grabbed Chris’ jacket and wrapped it around your wound. He tied it pretty harshly around your middle in hopes to stop the blood, then felt around on your neck for your pulse.

When he found it, he felt how faint it was and it sent him into a further panic as he got out of the back and into the driver’s seat. He knew Chris would be fine, and he also knew he couldn’t wait for him as he started the car and drove away from the town.

He’d have to send someone back for Chris, and then take the hit for being the one to abandon the mission.

But if it meant saving you, he didn’t give a fuck about the repercussions.

Leon got you back to salvation, but wasn’t allowed to be in the room with you as the nurses and doctors ripped your shirt after tearing off Chris’ jacket to see how bad your wound was.

He was left in the hall as they worked on you, his arms and shirt covered in your blood. The sight was one he never wanted to see, and he knew he should go wash it off, but instead he stayed right there.

This wasn’t a typical hospital, there were no waiting rooms, so he leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the hall to your room, and stayed there for God knows how long until a doctor finally came out and told him hours later that they had managed to stop the internal bleeding. But you had lost a lot of blood, and he was wearing most of it.

He still wasn’t allowed to see you as they moved on to test you for any viruses, and he knew how long that could take. So he caved and went home to shower and wash off the red that covered him.

Then he was right back in that hall after he changed into clean clothing. It was nearing a full twenty four hours since he carried you out of those tunnels, and he was beginning to go crazy.

He needed to see you, needed to see for himself that you were okay and alive. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you when he was just a few feet away.

The night nurse went in to check on you and accidentally woke Leon up from his spot on the floor. His back was against the wall as he looked up at her, and she gave him a wary smile. “I’m sorry, Agent Kennedy. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologized and he just waved her off. “I have to go report on her status, but she’s fine for now and will most likely recover within a few days.”

Leon perked up at that. “She’s going to be okay?”

“Yes,” the nurse nodded, then saw the look on his face and added, “That doesn’t mean you can sneak in there while I’m gone. I mean it, Kennedy. Her test results haven’t come back yet, she could be contagious with something.”

Leon nodded and watched as the nurse walked off before he promptly stood up and quietly opened the door to your room. He knew you didn’t have any viruses, he was with you the whole time, and he would’ve gotten it, too.

After slowly closing the door behind him, Leon turned to look at you. His heart fell at the blank expression on your face, and the way your eyes didn’t move behind your closed eyelids.

He had only ever seen you asleep a couple of times, one being back in that hotel room, another being when you had fallen asleep in the backseat of the Jeep as you waited for Chris to arrive so you could go on the mission, and both times you appeared to be dreaming. Your eyes never stopped moving behind closed lids, so to see them be so still now made him feel anxious.

Without being able to stop himself, he walked over to you and stood next to the bed, his left hand finding yours on top of the covers. “Hey,” he mumbled as he extended his leg and pulled a nearby chair towards the bed without ever taking his eyes off you. His fingers tangle with yours as he sits down, and your warm skin against his had his heart calming down just a bit.

He looked over at your pretty face, the dirt and grime you’d collected from the tunnels now gone, and what replaced it was a few cuts here and there. Leon still thought you looked beautiful, and he wished he had told you that before this. He should’ve done so many things before this, but he was a coward when it came to you.

But he wouldn’t be after you wake up.

He would tell you that he loved you and how he needed you in his life. Because, after all,

“You’re my favorite person, too,”

The same nurse from last night had found him with his head next to your hip on the bed, his hand still locked with yours, and she softly scolded him as she escorted him back out of the room and told him that he’d get to see you in a few days from now, and that you’d be awake by then.

That, along with the physical proof that you were okay, was what he needed to be able to talk through how the rest of the mission went with Chris. The eldest Redfield had successfully gathered up all the needed samples for the virus, as well as took out a large portion of those already infected with it before he caught a ride out of there and came to check on you.

Leon couldn’t even be annoyed at that since it was because of Chris that he was able to get you the help you needed in time.

With no further updates on both you and the case, Leon was left to return back to his sad and empty apartment with the files Chris gave him to read over. It helped keep his mind off you for a bit, and when he was about halfway through the paperwork, he stopped to answer the door when someone knocked on it.

He opened it slowly, then swung it open when he saw that it was you who was on the other side. You look a lot better than you did the last time he saw you, and your small smile had his knees feeling a bit weak as you gazed at one another. “Hi,” you say quietly and Leon had to blink a few times to make sure this was real, and that he hadn’t fallen asleep at the table with the case files.

“Hi,” he said back once he confirmed that he was awake and aware, and your smile grew a bit.

“I heard you were the one who risked the whole mission to get me help after I stupidly got stabbed with a pitchfork,” you murmur and Leon wanted to take you into his arms at how you were still able to find humor in the very situation that had him nearly losing his mind. “Then I laughed and said that Leon Kennedy wouldn’t risk a mission for anything and how nothing else was that important to him. And then I realized that wasn’t true after I remembered how you carried me out of those tunnels and stayed with me until you couldn’t anymore.”

Leon stayed silent as he confirmed your words with a single nod.

“Why did you do that?” You ask as you wrap one arm around your middle, and Leon wanted to pull you into his apartment and sit you down so you weren’t straining your wounds. “Why would you risk that?”

“You should sit down, Y/n,” he suggested instead of answering your question, but you just shook your head.

“Why did you risk it?” You ask again. “You saved my life, but I’m not worth that risk, Leon.”

Leon shook his head as he stepped towards you. “You are worth that risk,” he couldn’t keep the way your words offended him out of his voice, and you picked up on it as you stayed still and asked,

“Why did you risk it?”

He knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with anything other than an honest answer, and he wasn’t going to go back on his words and lie to you about how he felt. Seeing you with your eyes closed and your body covered in blood almost made him lose his mind, and he couldn’t continue to live without telling you just how much you meant to him.

“Because I love you,” he answered as if it was the most simplest question he’d ever been asked, and he supposed it was. “And I couldn’t live with myself if you had died on that mission and I didn’t.”

Your mouth closes as you take in his words, and when you begin to blink away tears, he continues,

“I know you can protect yourself, and I know you’re not defenseless, but I still want to be the one who protects you,” he took your hand in his, similar to the way he did back in your hospital room. “I want to be the one to take the hit for you, or the stab for you, or the bullet. You really think you’re not worth the risk? I’d risk it all for you all over again in a heartbeat. Without a second thought, I’d do it again.”

You bite down on your lip as you lace your fingers with his and allow him to pull you into his apartment. He guides you over to the couch, but before he could gesture for you to sit, you push him down instead and drape your thighs over his. “You love me?” You asked in a quiet tone as you hesitantly placed your hand on his shoulder.

Leon nodded, giving you full control over everything right now and keeping his hands at his sides.

You force away a smile as you shyly ask, “Will you say it again?” and Leon wasn’t used to having you act so nervous and hesitant around him. Usually you were so confident and collected, but right now you were allowing yourself to be vulnerable with him, and he loved you even more for it.

He didn’t think he could deny you anything right now, so he nodded in response to your question. “I love you,” he said again, then added with a barely-there smirk, “Baby.”

You give him a pretty smile and lean in to press your forehead against his as you guide his arms up to gently wrap around your middle. “I’ve always wanted to hear you call me that,” you repeated your words from earlier in the week, and Leon hummed as the tip of his nose hit yours.

“I know,” he rasped. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you that I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since the second I saw you.”

“Leon,” you murmur and gently run your fingers through his short hair. It still hadn’t fully grown out yet, but he didn’t mind it as you softly tug on the strands. “It doesn’t matter how long it took you. I would’ve waited forever, I think. Because I love you, too.”

He let out a sigh of relief he had no idea he was holding as he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. “I nearly lost it when I carried you out of those tunnels,” he confessed. “I thought I’d lost my chance to tell you how I felt, and how beautiful I think you are.”

The words sounded foreign to him as he didn’t have a whole lot of time to put towards a relationship due to his job, but that didn’t make them any less true.

And you knew this as you caressed the side of his face and traced his various freckles with your thumb. “Maybe soon you’ll be able to show me how you feel, too,” you teased and pressed yourself closer to him. “Thank you for saving my life, Leon. And thank you for finally telling me the words I’ve been wanting to hear from you for over a year now. I never let myself believe that you could ever feel that way about me.”

Leon was careful with your stomach area as he ran his hands up your back and gently gripped the back of your neck. He kissed you deeply and felt his heart skip a beat at the quiet moan you released, and he knew it would be the best kiss he’s ever shared with someone. Because it was you. “Believe it,” he mumbled. “Because I’ve been yours since day one.”

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eddiesghxst · 3 months

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PRICE OF FAME (PART 12/12)

AHHH !! friends, we've come to the end of my first fully done series, and she's not perfect in a lot of ways but she's mine and I'm so happy and thankful to have shared it with you lovely folks

i hope I've done them justice, enjoy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you decide to visit eddie for a chat

contains: enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of anal, mentions of death (readers relative), sexual themes, angst, heavy mutual pining, fluff, and eddie being so head over heels that it's hot <3

word count: 10.6k

| previous part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.”

Over time, Eddie’s learned that he can’t stand interviews— especially interviews with questions aimed towards nothing but tabloid gossip and headlines. The first big interview that Corroded Coffin booked was exciting because— well, it was their first one! Maybe the questions weren’t as intricate and thought-out as the ones they gave David Bowie on TV, but it was something.

That excitement wore off quickly, though, and unfortunately, interviews are one of the top ways to spread publicity so— “Wasting love,” Eddie huffs, tipping his hips forward as he shifts on the couch. He’s bored out of his mind, aching to leave and be done with the shitty questions about his love life or the people he hangs around or whatever. He taps the heel of his foot into the ground, lips twisting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, “What about it, man?” Eddie asks.

The rest of the band is in the fucking clouds— why would they answer a question about a song entirely unrelated to them? Plus, Eddie’s 99.9% sure they did a few lines without him, which, fucking assholes.

The interviewer shrugs, “Well, why didn’t it make it to the final cut? And what’s it about? Tell us more about that track.”

What a bullshit fucking question.

Wasting Love is one of the most, if not the most, straightforward songs Eddie’s ever fucking written. The only reason why he’s asking about this is because, well, there’s been rumors of Eddie and his most recent love affair— none of which are true, but Eddie doesn’t bother to come out and tell the truth because what’s the point? What’s the point in telling the truth if it will get twisted anyway?

Either way, Eddie shrugs, blinking behind his dark sunglasses, “I mean…” He purses his lips and tips his head side to side as if thinking, “Kinda self-explanatory with the lyrics, man.” He finally responds.

And in the background, Eddie can see Richie practically constructing his next ‘I know you hate it, but it’s good publicity’ lecture. So, Eddie relents— “It’s about… meaningless sex basically. And it didn’t make the cut because it was a shitty song.”

It wasn’t, actually, Eddie thinks it was a great fucking song, but the intentions behind it— not quite so.

“I think the fans would disagree on that.” The interviewer jokes.

Jeff takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat, “I mean, part of it was because it just didn’t flow with the essence of the album.” He adds, and Eddie mentally thanks him for taking over and so easily diverting the topic to something else. For the rest of the interview, Eddie’s mind is elsewhere, thinking about everything outside of this room, thinking about what he’ll eat later, thinking about the show tonight, thinking about you.

Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about.

You’re still in his dreams, still dancing behind his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, still vomiting all over his fucking journal when he writes. It’s madness, really. Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this hung up on someone— he wasn’t even this distraught when Chrissy left him.

Sure when he and Chrissy ended, he wallowed in it for a month or two, but it wasn’t long before he got fixed on uppers and groupies. Chrissy was heartbreaking in the sense that she was his first love, his first real relationship— but this… this is different. Eddie doesn’t know why it’s different, can’t really pinpoint where the colors change, and the memories start to jab at his chest differently, but he feels it.

He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions.

Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, but by god, he would never fucking recommend it because— fuck, you won’t even talk to him!

And sure, you don’t owe Eddie anything, you don’t owe him a call or a chance to visit or anything of the sort, but Eddie was holding onto that sliver of hope you gave him before you left.

He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him. Anna tells Eddie how much of an idiot he is occasionally, but she always cracks and tells Eddie that you’ve been good and how you sometimes mention him, but it’s always quick, and nobody ever has room to pry about it. And when Anna tells Eddie about how you crossed paths backstage with a certain red-headed girl and read her to filth, Eddie chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s my girl.”

Anna nearly gagged then.

Still, Eddie only catches glimpses and whispers of you, never really getting the full fix to last him a day, but it’s enough to keep him alive and wanting.

“Maybe she doesn’t get your calls, man.” Gareth shrugs, leaning into the mirror as he ruffles his hair. It’s been hours since the interview now, and showtime is in… Eddie doesn’t know when because he didn’t listen when Richie was rambling on about tonight’s schedule.

“She gets my calls, dude; Anna said she does,” Eddie grumbles.

“Okay, well, then maybe she’s just, like, over it. I don’t blame her; you're a pain in the ass.”

Eddie kicks his boot into Gareth’s shin, and the boy hisses, tossing a red Rillos wrapper at him. “Ow, asshole. It’s not my fault she hates your music.” He snips. Eddie makes a face, “It’s your music too, dumbass.”

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her. Our album is literally about her, you know that, right?” And Eddie thinks he should just kick Gareth’s teeth in at this point, maybe that’ll get him to shut up. “How would you know it’s about her if I never told you it was?” Eddie prods.

Gareth rolls his eyes, dark eyeliner casting a shadow on his face as he turns to glare at his friend. “Is there another chick you’ve been fucking that’s got you by the balls that we seem to have forgotten about?” Gareth sarcastically asks. Eddie glares at him, reaching for the cigarettes on the vanity table and sparking up.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke when he answers, “No.”

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds.

Gareth hums with a tight grin, reaching out to poke at his friend's face, causing Eddie to grimace and bat him away, “You’re in love, Munson. Fix it or get over it,” He says shortly before making his way toward the door. Eddie can hear the dull scream of fans when Gareth opens the door, and Eddie thinks about the tickets he’s sent you every show— prays to whatever false god there is that you decided tonight is the night before he decides hope is useless and you’ve gotten over him. Gareth cuts through Eddie’s thoughts, “Come on, I can hear Richie’s bitching from here.”

Eddie’s mind is never in the game until he steps onto the stage, with bright lights blinding him, screaming fans, and his adrenaline at an all-time high. He comes back to earth then, comes back, and does the fuck out of his job— because this is the best part. The best fucking part, and it’s always been that way.

And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes.

Eddie thinks he’s imagining it because, fuck, he’s been dreaming of this for weeks on end; surely his delusion can reach the heights of hallucinations, right? But no, you’re real.

You’re so fucking real. So fucking insanely real beneath Eddie’s fingertips when he reaches out, ignoring the screams and clawing of fans as his fingers loop around your wrists and he says your name.

God, you’re really fucking here.

Eddie looks prettier than you remember when you first see him— curly mane draped over his shoulders and dark tattoos glistening on a bare torso, white lights framing him like he’s some kind of fucking archangel.

He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper.

His eyeliner is smudged and dark, and his smile when he gets a moment to take in the crowd makes your chest ache. He’s so pretty it hurts. He’s a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His smile falters when he sees you, and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but his eyebrows pinch like he’s in pain, and you only want to wrap yourself around him and breathe in that scent that’s been haunting for nights on end.

He’s insane for jumping down to the barricade, like, completely-lost-his-fucking-mind, down-in-the-gutter, insane. But you can’t find it in you to protest when he steps up to the fence, reaching out and looping his warm finger around your wrist. “What the fuck?”

Your lips twitch into a smile at his words, but the crowd is getting rowdy with their beloved rockstar so up close and an elbow is being shoved into your side and Eddie moves quicker than you can comprehend, tugging you forward to the very front and motioning you to jump over.

“You’re insane!” You yell over the noise of the crowd. Eddie grins, damp curls dangling over his eyes as he peers down at you, “Unless if you wanna get crushed, be my guest.”

It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working.

His eyes are blown wide, and his lips are so kissable, and his warm hand is squeezing your hip as he nods toward a security guard. “Keep an eye on this one, Rob,” He shouts over the screaming fans. You’re eyeing Eddie as he steps back toward the stage, sinking his in-ear back into place with a sly grin as he winks, “She’s real sneaky.”

The show is great, as it always is, and Eddie tries to be deft about it, but it’s evident to just about everyone how he practically clings to the side of the stage where you’re standing in front of. It’s cute, you’ll admit, but you feel bad for the fans, so you try to move around a bit.

The last song comes, and the show ends with Eddie and Jeff practically climbing over one another as they shred their guitars and the crowd goes insane when Eddie leans forward to drag his tongue up the side of Jeff’s face, grinning when the other boy rolls his eyes and walks off.

You’re being pulled backstage quicker than you know it, just in time to meet the group as they jog off the smokey stage with big grins on their faces.

Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together. Gareth is twirling his drumstick between his fingers and scanning the room for someone, but you don’t have time to try and figure out who because the one person you’ve been waiting for steps out next, and he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he practically jogs up to you.

You’re smiling and giggling out a greeting as he steps up to you and grasps your face between his hands, “No kisses!” You warn before he can lean in, and Eddie’s too excited to even pout about it. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?”

You reach up to slink your fingers around his wrists as his thumbs caress the soft skin beneath your eyes, “Got enough life left in you to talk?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes dance across your face, taking you in like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to before he nods. “Always.”

The dressing room seems to be the altar of truth for you and Eddie.

It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, trying not to touch what he sees. His eyes are so bright, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from doing and saying the things he wants, and you appreciate that he’s giving you the space, waiting for you to give him your yes or no.

Eddie plops onto the couch in the middle of the room and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. You deeply breathe, shifting in your spot before leaning back against the door, tipping your head as you study him; thighs comfortably spread, inked stories fluttering to life with each rise and fall of his bare torso. He’s a dream.

“I thought you’d be way more upset.”

Eddie’s lips tug like he wants to smile at the sound of your voice, or maybe it’s the sight of you, and he shifts in his seat with a shrug, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, and when you see him pat himself down, you’re already moving like it’s muscle memory.

You pick up the lighter on the coffee table and walk over to Eddie, sparking the flame as you speak, “You’re allowed to be upset, you know?” You remind him. Eddie’s gaze flickers in color as he looks up at you, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that rise up on your skin when his hand reaches up to rest on your hip, thumb caressing you over the material of your skintight dress. Streams of fire are licking up your spine as he leans forward to burn the end of the paper stick, and your center aches when he gently squeezes the fat of your hip. All throughout this, Eddie never lets his eyes fall from you.

He mumbles a short thank you once the cigarette lights, leaning back to rest against the seat as he looks up at you. You fight the urge to comb your fingers through his hair or do something dumb like climb into his lap. No doubt talking would fly out the window then.

You gently toss the lighter onto the coffee table and sit on the loveseat across from the pinnacle of your thoughts from the last six months. Eddie speaks around a cloud of smoke, “Do you want me to be upset?” He asks.

You shrug, trying your hardest not to break beneath his unwavering eye. “I don’t know.”

Eddie smiles then, and the strings of your heart play a symphony to the notes of his voice when he speaks, “I was for a little bit,” He admits, tapping ash onto the carpet, “But then Wayne told me to get my head out of my ass.”

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him.

You shift, like you can’t seem to get comfortable enough, and you know you’re stalling, and you can see Eddie fighting to not call you out, so you try to ease into it; “Is that when you stopped calling?” You ask.

Eddie stiffens under the question, and you know the answer. He grimaces and runs a hand over his face with a soft groan, “Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, yeah, it was.” He answers. “I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ hothead. I had made it a goal to call every night and then—” “I upset you.”

Eddie’s eyes are soft, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his, “It wasn’t fair what I did, Eddie; I’m sorry—”

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.”

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you.

“Kinda my fault too,” Eddie shrugs, “Camera’s wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have press riding me.” And he’s right, but shitty press isn’t his fault, so how much of that can you really blame him for?

Eddie snickers at the memory of you painted on the cover of several magazines, “Think you’ve got a type, sweetheart.” He teases. Your face screws up in defense, and you scoff, “What does that mean?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Come on, you’re gonna tell me you didn’t say my name when he—” “We didn’t do anything— firstly— and even if I did say your name, I would never in a million years admit it.” You point out with a raised eyebrow.

Eddie smirks with a playful glint in his eye and he deeply breathes as he ashes his cigarette and rises to his feet. “I don’t care that you hooked up with Bain fucking Carter,” Eddie softly admits with a hint of a mocking grin, “Did it deeply wound me to the point where I almost thought I was gonna die? Yes.” He jokingly says, to which you want to roll your eyes at, but he’s stalking over to you like he’s some lion on the prowl, and all you can muster is a small huff with a mumbled, “You’re dramatic.”

Eddie stands in front of you and leans over to press his palms onto each side of your seat, leaning down until his face hovers above yours, “I’m kinda known for it, darling.” He winks.

Your core stirs at the proximity, and you can feel his breath against your top lip. “I will admit, though,” Eddie lets his hand drop to round over your bare knee, callused fingertips caressing your soft skin, “It gave me a huge ego boost seeing you with a literal replica of me.” He snickers, fingers dancing into the inside of your thigh. You huff, a playful glint in your eyes as you run your tongue across your teeth, “Yeah, I imagine your head couldn’t fit through the door for at least a month, huh?”

Eddie shrugs, “Depends. Which head we talking about, honey?”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.”

Brown eyes flash with a familiar look you’d missed before they drop to your lips. “What about a kiss? Just one.” He presses. Your eyes narrow, “I doubt you could ever do just one.”

“You’ll never know if you never try.” His lips twitch up into a sly grin, taunting you and pushing you until your brain is just a muddled mess of yes, no, yes, no, yes, n— fuck it.

It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time.

It’s a fucking kiss, that’s for sure.

It’s long, and it takes you both a second to relearn the kinks and maneuvers you both favor, but then it’s as if time never passed between your bodies— you’re moving like one unit, like every second of your lives has built up to this moment.

Unfortunately, air is a necessity to living, so you’re pulling away sooner than you’d wanted to. Eddie’s other hand is digging into the cushion beneath you, and you can practically hear his thoughts spinning as he wills himself to pull back. You shiver as his fingers squeeze your thigh one last time before slipping away.

“How's that for a kiss?”

Brown eyes with pools of liquid gold, you missed the searing pain it gave you each time you reached out and touched. You purse your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you tip your head in thought— menthol and whiskey. “Care to answer a few questions? Pick up on our game?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your nose as he snickers with a glint in his eyes. He studies you for a moment, like you might pull out and say never mind, but you only raise an eyebrow as you await an answer. “Your place or mine, honey?” He drawls.

You preen at the open door he’s lent you, “It’s your city, isn’t it?”

You don’t take the same car with Eddie to his place.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take the same car, but something about that look in Eddie’s eyes said that he absolutely wouldn’t be behaving on that car ride, and you immediately suggested separate vehicles. You’re unsure if you trust yourself to hold your promise in a confined space with Eddie… or maybe you don’t trust him… or— yeah, it’s both of you. Eddie wasn’t ecstatic about it, but you don’t care because you swear to god you aren’t going to fuck Eddie before you talk— like, really talk.

There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly.

Eddie’s home is everything you thought it would be: chaotic in taste, lively, musical, whimsical, and all things that scream Eddie. The entryway is open and vast, with a clear view into the living room, where you can see a sunken living room build with guitars and papers strewn about.

Eddie’s ushering you further into his home before you can look deeper into the entrance, but you don’t mind because his living area is like an artist's wet dream. There are comfy couches, red, cream, and colors alike, and there’s a rug in the middle that looks like a psychedelic trip of dark colors, and along one of the walls is a long shelf of endless records.

“I moved in like a year ago, so it’s not perfect, but… this is me,” Eddie says. You hadn’t been paying attention, but now that he walks into your line of vision, you can see his shoes are off, and his loose blouse is fully open. He looks like a fantasy; lean body dripped in expensive clothes and clinking jewelry, shoulders broad and sculpted beneath his wavy hair. Fuck.

You slip your shoes off and let your feet sink into his home's fluffy, deep red carpet, never once dropping your gaze from him as you walk over to the couch. “It’s beautiful, Eddie. It’s very you.”

You sink into his couch, turning so you can face him with your arms crossed over the back of the sofa as you watch him pick a record and set it up. Through the surround system of his home, the familiar riff to Tommy Bolin’s Shake The Devil rings. You watch Eddie sink a hand into his hair, shaking out his messy curls before pausing. The guitar is loud and you’re leaning forward when he snaps his head to dramatically look over his shoulder. You stifle a laugh, intrigued to see where he’s going with this— and you hate to admit that you begin enjoying the show when he turns around, fingers crafted and messily playing an air guitar to the track.

His stomach and chest flex with each of his moves, the buckle and button to his jeans open to flash you a dangerously low view of his happy trail leading to sinful places. He’s walking sex; head tilted back as he shreds the imaginary guitar, hips moving with the song as he walks toward you. He sinks to his knees in front of you, and with his living room being sunken and him still being on the higher level, you’re just in line with the view of his spread legs, crotch on full display. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gazes at you, switching to air drums before the words kick in. You can’t hide the smile that graces your lips as he dramatically sings along, leaning forward until his face is just inches in front of yours, ringed fingers reaching to cup your face. Standing face to face with the devil, huh?

Your hands have a mind of their own apparently because they reach out and coast up Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, nails scratching up against the material until your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans. You lean forward on your knees, sharing a breath with the pretty boy, and you smile. Eddie groans low in his throat, the breakdown of the song blasting in both your ears and your heart racing. His teeth dig into his lips like he’s trying to physically hold himself back, and you softly laugh. “Laughin’ at my misery?” He asks.

You shrug, “Maybe. You look fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie groans again, eyes rolling back into his head before he dives forward, nuzzling his face into your neck and faking a bite as you squeal. “Can’t say shit like that to me, princess. Wanna fuck the shit out of you.” His teeth drag against your pulse, and you squirm with a louder squeal, causing him to tumble forward, collapsing onto the couch with you, and your limbs mix like one big painting as he dramatically grunts on impact. He shifts until he’s laid on his back, head resting in your lap as he peers up at you.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You snort, brushing a strand of hair from his face, “Didn’t I tell you we’re not having sex?” You remind him. Eddie huffs and digs his head into your lap as he shuffles in his spot, “Did I ask for sex just now?” He challenges. You raise an unconvinced eyebrow, “So, you want me to spend the night just to spend the night?”

Eddie’s eyes gleam as he looks up at you, “It’s been my dream.”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him off you with a huff, “Get me a drink, and I’ll think about it?”

Eddie hops up as if second nature, padding over to the stereo and turning it down just enough to hear you as he talks over his shoulder, “Sure thing, honey; what would you like?”

Honey, honey, honey.

You want to drown in it.

You’re not listening as Eddie lists off the drinks he has, busy swirling in sticky, sweet, golden lakes and admiring the shift of Eddie’s hips and ass beneath his jeans. “Surprise me.” You respond.

“Copy that, madam.”

He doesn’t go far because there’s a built-in bar on the other side of the room, so you have the perfect view of him working his magic, mixing liquor and dropping ice cubes into a crystal glass. When he finishes making your drink, he turns and walks over to you with this glint in his eyes, and you feel your body heat under his gaze. “This one's on the house,” He says with a wink, handing you the drink. You thank him, taking the glass as he sits back onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and watching you gently sip before pulling a sour face.

He laughs, “Too strong?” He asks. You grimace with a shake of your head, smacking your lips, “No, no, it’s good. Thank you.”

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks.

God, he’s relentless.

You laugh, “You really want me to stay,” You tease. Eddie sinks like he’s letting all inhibitions go as he answers, “Desperately.”

He can tell you’re cracking, and you have to hide your grin behind the glass as you shake your head in disbelief at yourself, “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.”

And Eddie’s sprinting up, holding his jeans up from falling as he jogs up the stairs with a happy cheer.

A half-hour passes, and you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s comfy living room floor, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt of his because, in Eddie’s words, ‘there’s no need for pants in a home setting, sweetheart.’ You think he just wants easy access and an eyeful of your bare legs.

Eddie’s licking up the crease of a blunt and your body is warm with whiskey and the shrill of a jazzy melody from the radio. He’s so pretty, leaned over the glass coffee table, bare shoulders flexing, curly hair draping as a curtain as he works. He clicks his tongue when he’s done, and you raise an eyebrow, pressing your bare toes into his thigh when he scoots closer. “Up for a smoke?” He asks.

You don’t smoke much, not that you don’t enjoy a nice high, but you find yourself more appreciative of your highs when they’re spaced out and random. You nod, and Eddie grins, “Atta girl. Here, honorary first hit,” He passes the blunt to you, and you snicker, grasping it between two fingers and holding it up to your lips. Eddie helps you with a lighter, leaning forward to burn the end of the paper, and you take one good drag before pulling the bunt away, rolling the smoke into your lungs to settle as best as you can handle before you sputter out in a small coughing fit.

Your eyes water, and Eddie grins as you pass it to him, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “That was good, baby.”

You watch as he takes a hit of his own, huffing out a few coughs of his own, and jesus christ, why do rockstars always smoke devious shit? It’s strong, whatever Eddie has you smoking, and it only takes you three hits before you already feel a buzz coming, and Eddie looks so pretty with low eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Ready to play our game?” He rasps out.

“Mm.” You agree, reaching out to take another hit.

“Did you listen to the albums?”

I can't destroy what isn't there

Deliver me into my fate

If I'm alone I cannot hate

I don't deserve to have you

Oh my smile was taken long ago

If I can change I hope I never know

God, did you listen to the albums? Sure, you have it ingrained into your fucking mind, and it burns.

You smile, slowly blinking because, of course, that’s Eddie’s first question. You breathe out clouds of fairy dust as you speak, “Yes, I did. Did you read the magazine?” You ask.

Eddie nods, leaning back against the couch, extending his legs out as he eyes you, “I did. Which song did you like best?”

“Mm, the one with the drums.” You smile.

Eddie laughs, and you pass the blunt back to him before leaning back on the opposite couch, toes almost touching when you extend your legs across the carpet. “You’re a kiss-up, you know that?” He gestures to you, to which you only shrug.

Eddie crawls across the living room, and you fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his hair as he plops himself right next to you, leaning against the couch as well. Your thighs are touching, and you can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of weed is wafting through the air, and you just want to nuzzle into Eddie’s chest and never leave.

“Miss me?” You teasingly ask. You can hear the slight smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds, “Negative. You?”

You snort, “Negative.”

You shuffle to lean against Eddie, and he can’t seem to help it when he reaches out to push your hair back gently. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, no doubt lost by what you mean, considering he already has his lifetime job figured out, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, wriggling as you fight the urge to wrap your body around him, “I mean,” You shrug, “Well, you’re not gonna do this forever, right? Like, at some point, you’re going to have to throw in the towel, age, and whatnot,” You dismissively wave, “What will you do then?”

Eddie pauses and thinks for a moment, and if you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you would think he vanished into thin air. “I, uh…. Well, you’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbles.

You frown, turning your head to look at him, “I won’t. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you with these soft, fond eyes before nodding, “I wanna start a music school in Hawkins— maybe, like, a creative arts school, you know, something for the weirdos. Not just music geeks.” He admits. His tone is so soft, maybe the softest you’ve ever heard, and he’s fiddling with his rings like he’s nervous, and it’s the cutest sight you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not really celebrated there. Creativity, I mean.” He adds.

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.”

It’s… it’s fucking brilliant. It’s so brilliant it makes your chest ache, and you decide that you would do just about anything to make sure Eddie’s dreams of a music school come true.

“I told you it’s stupid. No one ever thinks it’s good.” He mumbles after a moment with your silence. You frown and shake your head, sitting up straight to look at him. “No. No, Eddie, it’s amazing…It’s fucking amazing, and you should do it. You have to do it.”

“You’re just playing nice.”

“No, seriously. Fuck whoever said it wasn’t a good idea, it’s brilliant.” You press on, and you want to lean in and pepper kisses all over his face because— seriously, who the fuck told him it was a shitty idea?

“I grew up in a small town too, and— shit, it was not fun wanting to be something other than a nurse or a teacher. Got a lot of shit trying to ‘reach for the stars’,” You huff out a laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so gentle as they gaze at you that you almost melt. “I would’ve appreciated something like that. Munson’s School of Arts.”

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.”

It’s a back and forth of that for a while, silly questions amongst genuine ones until you find yourselves sat next to each other, arms pressed together, bodies yearning to wrap around each other as you fiddle with the strings of Eddie’s carpet. And there’s something, you know. Eddie feels something that he’s not telling you, and it’s killing you because it’s what you need to hear before you take the plunge. “Are you angry with me?” You softly ask.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and the blunt was snuffed out a while ago, so he’s not taking a drag but instead just stalling. “I mean,” he pauses, “I already told you, Birdie. What’s the point in going back on it?”

You frown, glancing at him, “Because I want you to tell me how you feel, Eddie.” You respond.

Eddie’s silent again for a longer moment, and you want to whine when he shifts away to sit in front of you. He folds his legs up, resting his elbows over his knees as he sits face to face with you, “Do you want me to be angry with you?” He steadily asks.

Your blink, “I— no?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, “Honestly, a little bit, yes. It’s okay to be angry with me, Eddie; that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?”

And, ouch.

That’s not the truth at all. Or maybe it’s some truth, but in your true feelings, that’s not what you mean. It’s only a fleeting thought because you’re human, after all, right?

“That’s not fair,” You frown with a small shake of your head. Eddie raises another eyebrow, and you tilt your head, “I’m only trying to be as transparent as possible, Eddie. That was the main issue.” You remind him.

Eddie turns to the coffee table, grabs your forgotten glass of Jack Daniels, and takes a swig for himself. “You wouldn’t tell me how you felt, and I was always left in the dark.” You say.

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?”

Eddie can only glance at you then, and your frown deepens. “That’s… different.”

“How, Eddie? It’s about me—” “Yeah, because you fucking walked out on me on closing night,” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to feel?”

Your chest tightens as you look into the eyes of your dreams, lyrics swirling in your mind because you’ve fucking memorized every word. You listened to it until you felt sick, dizzy with a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs.

You sold me out to save yourself

And I won't listen to your shame

You ran away, you're all the same

Angels lie to keep control

Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind.

“I just want you to be honest with me. If I made you feel that way—” “No, that’s not—” Eddie shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and cringes like it's painful. “That’s not it at all— fuck.” He puts the glass down and scoots back over to you; knees pressed into the fluffy carpet beside your thighs as he leans in and cups your face, eyes darting over your pretty features. “I was angry, and I was a shithead, and I had people talking in my ear and— shit. Please don’t think you ever blame yourself for that, please.”

Your fingers are cold, but Eddie’s wrists are warm beneath your fingertips as you frown up at him, “Just tell me how far out you are, Eds.”

Eddie looks at you with soft eyes, a callused thumb running under the delicate skin beneath your eye. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead, and you preen, nuzzling forward and sinking into his warmth and scent that you’ve missed for so long.

“Not far,” He responds, lips brushing over your skin. “You?”

You hum, body reeling as Eddie slinks his arms around you, “Not far.”

Forty minutes and another blunt later, and Eddie’s floating in the fucking sky.

Eddie can’t believe it really, having you in front of him, next to him, limbs pressed to limbs with your laugh ringing in his ears— Eddie thinks this is some sick, realistic dream.

It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’

But you’ve always been patient. You were patient six months ago, and you’re patient now. You know exactly what you want, and you’re firm in what you say and feel, and it makes Eddie feel safe.

He’s never had this kind of thing— he’s never had a relationship where someone talks and leaves room for him to speak as well— two-way communication or whatever the fuck Robin says. It’s different, and it’s good, and Eddie thinks he must have shit taste if it’s taken him this long to realize it.

Chrissy never really cared for what Eddie wanted or preferred, or how something she did would make him feel. Eddie, at the time, didn’t think much of it and was more than happy to ride along with her ‘low maintenance’ nature, but it only cut him off from growth more than anything.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore because Chrissy is in the past, and you— you’re so pretty standing on Eddie’s couch in just his shirt with a blunt hanging between your fingers. You’ve just returned from changing the record— Surrealistic Pillow; Eddie knew the second you dropped the needle and watched you spin around with a shit-eating grin.

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.”

Eddie slinks his hand around your calf, blinking up at you as you stand over him. You reach down, the burning blunt standing between your fingers, and Eddie happily parts his lips to let you slip the tip in. Burning sativa licks up the sides of Eddie’s brain, and he melts when your other hand sinks into his hair, gently pressing his bangs back as his eyes flutter. You hum, and Eddie’s lips tip into a smile as the smoke churns in his chest. Your knuckles curl into his roots, and Eddie could fucking cum right now, no questions asked.

He’s harder than a rock, and he’s not ashamed when he sinks his hand down the open fly on his jeans to palm himself, lowly groaning as he tips his head up, playfully blowing clouds of smoke up your shirt and grinning when you squeal. He chuckles, hand slinking further up your leg to grip the fat of your thigh as he tilts his head to nip his teeth at the inside of your knee.

He turns to let his chin rest on your thigh, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, “Let me in, baby.” He pleads.

You sink to your knees until you’re face to face, and Eddie’s hands glide under your shirt, warm and itching to explore as he feels the flutter of your lungs beneath his fingertips. “No funny business, Munson.” You remind him, swatting him away when his fingers prod at the cup of your bra. Eddie grins, brain fuzzy and warm, and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“I have something for you.” He says. Your eyebrows raise, and Eddie smiles, standing up with a grunt and shaking out his stiff limbs. “Don’t move,” He points to you before padding off.

The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?

He’s holding the gift behind his back when he steps into the living room, and he smiles at the sight of you laid out on his floor, eyes closed as you sink into the music. You’re on cloud nine, Eddie can tell.

He drops to his knees over you, pressing his free hand into the floor beside your head, and his hair creates a curtain over you when you look up at him. “You look… tempting, to say the least.”

Your eyes playfully narrow at Eddie, and you squirm beneath him, “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name.

It’s a replica of your old journal, the one that had gotten ruined when you tore the pages out to prove a point. But you don’t understand— “How did you get this?” You ask in a soft voice.

Eddie grins, reaching out to thumb at your bottom lip, eyes soft as he watches your eyes dance over the journal. “Called in a favor from Michigan.” He jokingly says. Your chest aches, and you frown when you look up at him, fingers tight around the binding of your gift, “You talked to him?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah. Got a lot of shit from him first, I’ll tell you that,” He pauses and scratches at the back of his neck, “He told me he hates my music.”

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask.

Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.”

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back.

You’re elated as you run your hands over the pages, imagining what the phone call between Eddie and your grandfather was like. You wish you could’ve been there to hear it; you wish you could’ve brought Eddie to meet him in person because even though your grandfather acted tough and mighty, he had the softest heart you’ve ever known, and he would’ve adored Eddie.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you put the journal on the coffee table. You huff, turning to clamber onto Eddie’s lap, glaring at him as your hands dig into his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”

Eddie grins at you, and you drop your head to his chest, snuggling further into him when he wraps his arms around you. You grumble against his chest, turning your head to speak, “You’re making it so hard.” You complain.

You feel the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest as he hums, “Hm?”

Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers.

“You know…It’s past midnight.”

“Fffuck–”

Eddie’s dead.

He’s gone. Six feet under. In the next life, body turned back to dust, never coming back, dead. This must be the seventh circle of heaven— is that a thing? Or is that only hell?

Either way, Eddie’s on an entirely different plane of heaven as you press your body against his, knees tightening around his waist as he pulls you close and smears his lips against yours. He can feel the heat of your core through his pants, and his hips have a mind of their own when they buck up into you.

Your fingers are blind and eager when they wriggle through the tight space between you and Eddie, but it sends shivers up Eddie’s spine when you drag your nails down the soft skin of his lower pelvis.

Eddie’s lips part against yours, and he’s licking into your mouth, tongue flicking at your top lip as you shakily moan. “What happened to no sex tonight?” He lowly teases. His hands sink beneath your shit, squeezing at your hips and guiding the roll of your hips.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You whine, fingertips digging into his shoulders when he rubs against your covered clit. Eddie smiles, watching as your face twists in pleasure, and his chest nearly bursts because you’re so fucking pretty.

“You want me?” He asks.

Your lips twitch into a smile, and your hands slide down his arms to rest over his wrists that flex as they work you back and forth over his crotch. “Yeah,” You breathe, tipping your head down to hover your lips over Eddie’s, “I do. I want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s tongue runs over his lips, and he catches your bottom lip, and you lick out to catch his tongue before pressing your lips together. Eddie uses one hand to cup your face, “You’re not curious where my dick’s been while we were apart?” He teases.

And if you weren’t practically humping Eddie right now and thinking straight, you probably would’ve choked Eddie out or something— but you only mewl and grind down harder. “Not funny.”

Eddie hums, fingers dancing across the band of your panties before dipping past the barrier. He feels like a pirate who’s finally found the hidden treasure, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to ground himself because, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.”

You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.”

You mewl, leaning forward to press your forehead against Eddie’s as you grind against him, shivering when he finally sinks a finger into you, drawing out to circle your clit with sticky arousal before sinking back in with two fingers.

You’re sharing each breath, taking each other in and out; Eddie watches with low eyes as your face twists in pleasure.

“Take it off,” He grumbles, “Take your shirt off.”

You’re moving like it’s second nature. Shaky hands reaching down to loop around the loose shirt, dragging it up and over your body— and Eddie’s head tips back with a groan. “Jesus fuck,” He curses, one hand busy working you as the other reaches down to palm your breast, “When did you take your bra off, you fuckin’ minx?”

You whimper against Eddie’s lips when he kisses you, the force of his eagerness pushing you back. Eddie keeps pressing you back, shuffling and moving around so he can press you down onto your back and hover over you. “Wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” He begs.

You shake your head, lips messily smearing against his, “No. No, you said—” god, Eddie can’t stop fucking kissing you, “You said you’ll let me have you next time, Eds.” You whine.

Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. You’re a goddamn dream pouting up at Eddie, grinding against his fingers as he ticks them up against your walls. “Yeah? You want me?” Eddie breathlessly asks. Your lips are pouty and swollen as you nod, “Already told you I did.” You say.

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. You’re so pretty, hair spread out beneath you, tits on full display, tummy fluttering with each drag and push of your breaths. You’re lightly dragging the tip of your finger down your stomach, a teasing glint in your eyes as Eddie throws his hair into the shittest bun known to man, and fuck, you’re dipping your hand between your thighs.

Yeah. This is heaven, and you’re god.

Eddie thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life on his knees worshipping you.

Eddie’s body is warm when he crawls back over you, his body now bare, save for the chains that dangle from his neck. One cross, one guitar pick, one pentagram. They’re cold when they drag up the valley of your chest, and your body perks up with chills.

You slink your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, titling your head up to kiss him as your fingers curl into his messily tied hair. “Give me what I want, Eds.” You softly say against his lips. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

Eddie curses, rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh, and he nods, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Just lay here and look pretty, baby.”

The lasting effects of the three blunts you’d shared with Eddie are swirling through your body, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine as Eddie straddles your hips. He’s the prettiest sight to ever reach your eyes, toned arms, and chest working in tandem as he reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock— and god; you forgot how pretty his cock was. The tip is ruddy and flushed, and your core twists when he angles himself up, and you see the piercing beneath his tip. You definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little detail these past months.

Eddie’s chest is rising and falling quickly and stray pieces of hair cling to his lips when he licks them. You watch with wide, eager eyes as Eddie strokes himself, ringed fingers running against the soft skin of his shaft, pretty hisses curling through his teeth when he thumbs the slit of his tip.

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

Eddie’s then shuffling and moving around so you’re both comfortably positioned as he kneels over your face, pretty cock glistening above your lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue hang out, ready for Eddie to feed his cock to you, and he chuckles, tapping his swollen tip against your tongue before dragging it to tease you.

It’s good. It’s so good. The taste of him, the feel of him, the pretty noises he makes. You can feel the cold barbell dragging across your tongue with each slow thrust he gives you, and you can’t wait to feel it inside you again. You’ve been dreaming about it for weeks on end now.

He pulls out with a slick pop, tapping his tip against your lips as he hums, “Ready? Gonna give you what you want now.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at a mind-numbing and thigh-clenching rate for just under five minutes before he starts to break. You can feel it in the stutter of his hips, the twitch of his cock on your tongue, the shuddered moans and grunts. You reach up to drag your nails down the soft skin of his stomach, and Eddie whimpers for the second time, and you think it might be your favorite sound— you want more.

He’s pulling out with a curse, squeezing at his tip, and you’re such a fucking tease; you lean forward to kitten lick at his aching tip and hum when he hisses. He shuffles back just enough to lean forward and press a messy kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please. Want it so bad it hurts.”

“Jesus fuck— turn around.”

You’re shaking, and Eddie’s touch feels like fire as he helps you flip over to lean on all fours. His hands coast up your back and into your hair, and you push your body back into him, ass pressing against his wet cock as you moan when his fingers curl into your hair.

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” “Oh my god,” You roll your eyes with a smile, tipping your head to the side when Eddie kisses your neck before nipping at your ear. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin, and it makes your chest flutter as he pulls you up to press your back against his chest.

He’s reaching down between you to grasp his cock and paint it against your wet cunt, and you lose your breath. “Come on. Say you’ll let me fuck your pretty ass.” He practically begs.

You moan when he slips his head in, teasing you with what he knows you want. Your head rolls back to rest against his shoulder, and he hums, slinking his other hand up to cup your throat as he continues teasing himself in and out of your pussy.

You smile, lazy and high and blissed out, “No.”

Eddie groans at that, fingers tightening around your throat as he sinks in deeper. “Not even a finger?”

You push your fingers through his hair, his curly strands nothing but a tangled mess within his hair tie. Your legs tremble as you wriggle back into him, but your voice is steady as you speak, “Fuck me first, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Eddie takes that as a challenge, apparently, because next thing you know, he’s slamming into you and pressing in to the fucking hilt— all big and pierced and toe curling to the point where your moans turn flat, and all you can do is lace your fingers through his that rest on your hip and hold on for dear fucking life.

He’s pressing you face-first into the carpet, making sure your cheek rests against the couch pillow that had been thrown aside earlier. His fingers are clenched around yours, digging into your hip as you whine and moan into his floor, sobbing out his name with each groundbreaking thrust he gives you.

It’s all-consuming; the way Eddie’s fucking you, the filthy words slipping from his mouth, the lingering effects of weed— god, you feel like an exploding star.

Supernova shit or something like that.

Eddie’s cursing and spilling dirty words of encouragement when you come, leaning over to press his chest against your back and coo into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Keep squeezing me like that, baby. You’re so good.”

“Y’sound so pretty when you’re coming on my cock.”

You’re breathless and quivering, and a pitiful whine slips from you when Eddie pulls out, but you can feel him as he wraps his hand around his cock and finishes off, pretty moans pressed into the skin on the back of your neck. The feeling of his sticky release dripping onto your ass makes you want to go at it again already.

He’s peppering kisses across your neck and shoulders, and your body slumps onto the ground in exhaustion, but you smile when he presses his lips to yours.

“So, was that good enough? Have I been granted access to the holy grail?”

You glare at Eddie from where his chin is hooked over your shoulder. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and you huff. “I’ll tell you what,” You start, shifting and purposely rubbing your ass back against his sensitive cock, smiling when he hisses.

“Make up for the last six months first, and I might be able to cut you a deal.”

“Now you’re just stringing me along.”

You hum, “Oh, like you did with me some months ago?”

Eddie pauses at that, eyes narrowing at you, and you think— fuck, maybe that was too soon. But then a smile cracks across his face, “Touché.”

He sighs and sits up, peeling himself from your sticky skin before gently patting your hip. “Ass up, baby. Got a lot of making up to do, and we’re on a tight schedule.”

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again.

After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?

————

the end.

————

a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYS

if you've made it to the end of this long-winded (and incredibly late, I'm so sorry) ending to this story i can not thank you enough. these two have been so fun to write and i don't plan to leave them completely in the dust so they're not gone forever, but thank you so much to everyone who read and shared and commented. this story has allowed me to meet the most beautiful, kind, funny, and loving people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to and that will be my biggest takeaway from this journey🥹

the biggest thank yous to my pretty mutuals who have been here the whole way, ilysm and want to shrink you guys and put you in my pocket <3

anyway, i'll shut up now, i hope i was able to do these two justice with their ending!! i love and appreciate all kinds of feedback, and as always, thank you for reading, ily <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

@mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking @mysteris-things @amazingori @honey-eyed-munson @saintlike78 @eddieslooneymoonie @alexa4040 @yujyujj

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mickyschumacher · 1 month

Text

𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you were in love with f1's beloved honey badger and you had been for almost year. but why in the world had you instead fallen for his teammate? or in which infidelity has laid it's sticky little hands on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slight angst, infidelity naturally, falling out of love, steamy makeout sesh, suggestive content, pining, sad boy hours for daniel, lando being kind of a sneaky bastard, age-gap between reader and boys (8 years for dan and 2 years for lan), reader born in australia, set in 2020/2021, false or incorrect marine biology lingo and protocols lol, mention of crossiant horner, poor explanation of f1, mentions of insecurity, proof-read...ish

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: daniel ricciardo x marine biologist!female reader, lando norris x marine biologist!female reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: i felt bad for not posting so here's me digging into my reserves! written when i did more song-based fics!! i wish life wasn't so busy 🤧 i have started a few thingsssssss but it's definitely going to be a while before i post them sorry 😣

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

You, honestly, were a normal girl. Mundane as mundane gets. Never once had you imagined of cameras, headlines and the need for a PR specialist in your life.

But it's what you had gotten. That's what Daniel Ricciardo came with.

You had met the Australian on pure accident. It was late 2020 and the season had just come an end. Hamilton was a six-times World Champion and Daniel had his last season with Renault. He hadn't got the result he wanted but he was optimistic about his future with McLaren. So eventually, he headed home to Australia for the Christmas holidays.

Now you would like to consider yourself a well-versed Australian. Especially considering you were born there. Robert Irwin was the most beloved Australian for years to come and Margot Robbie and Chris Hemsworth were your Aussie reps in America.

Somehow, however, you had never really got F1 or Formula One. That's not to say you hadn't heard of it. Honestly, for the past few years it was difficult to pass Albert Park in the summer of March without it flashing in front of your eyes. But if someone were to ask you anything about it, you would blink blankly and apologise.

Which is exactly what you did in early December. You were out having lunch with your closest friends at a local cafe, catching up on the year in the fresh yet skin-damaging Aussie sun.

You were in midst conversation when a brunette girl politely interrupted you. "Hi, sorry. This is going to sound really weird. I'm doing this on a bet. But do all three of you know that man over there? In the hat?”

You looked over to her table full of people. It seemed like she was with her family and friends. You and your friends zoned on the man in the hat, a guy who was trying to not make it obvious that he was aware of what was going on.

You scrutinised him carefully and unsurprisingly, you didn’t know him. Surprisingly, you did find that he was attractive. The curly hair, the scruff… you wondered whether he was actually Australian because no men in Australia looked like that.

Your two friends nodded while confirming with one another. “It’s Daniel, right? The driver?” One of them asked.

Your other friend hummed in agreement.

The brunette looked over at you. You blinked at her as your face slowly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The brunette, which you expected to be somewhat sad about it, ended up smiling while your friends’ faces dropped.

“Thank you! Oh my god. You have no idea what you’ve just done!” The brunette laughed loudly, capturing the attention of her table. She pointed at the man in the hat, clutching her stomach. “She doesn’t know who you are, Danny. Take that!”

Similarly to your friends, the male’s face dropped. He looked at you and tilted his head.

When Daniel actually saw you for the first time, he was in shock. Not the type of shock of an Aussie not knowing who he was. But rather the shock of being in the presence as someone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes were tantalising and your apologetic expression was cute.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. I’m just an F1 driver.”

You nodded in slow understanding. Maybe you had in fact seen his posters in Albert Park. Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. Life as a marine biologist was busy and all over the place. Recognising celebrities or athletes was kind of the last thing on your mind.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That day you went home with the expectation of a normal tomorrow. One where you were out at the ocean and exploring the waters you had loved so much.

You wish you could say it came as a shock to see that same curly haired man on the wharf, but given the current temperatures that heavily contrasted your winter, it was reasonable as any other Aussie here.

What you didn’t expect was you passing him to get to your boat and then hearing a voice enter the air. “Hey! Excuse me. Sorry. You’re the girl from yesterday, right?”

You turned to the man, hand over your eyes to protect yourself from the harsh rays and take a closer look at him. Just in case it wasn’t him.

“Uh, yeah? You’re the driver, right?”

Daniel gave a wide smile, extending out his hand. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Oh my. What a smile he had. The type to make you feel happy just by looking at it. You couldn’t even help but smile in response. You reached out to shake his hand, not ready to feel a weird sort of spark between the two of you.

“I... I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Daniel slowly removed his hand from yours, grabbing any last second he could. He eyed the briefcase and scuba gear in your hands. “You diving?”

You looked at your equipment. “Well, testing. I’m a marine biologist. Although, I guess I’m still diving.”

Daniel pursed his lips. Now he had to get to know you. You were beautiful and a marine biologist. An Aussie dream.

“Oh yeah? What are you testing?” He queried with a raised brow,

“Oh! Uh, currently things like the local fish populations in decline. Their habitat. Whether they’re safe or not. Algae growth. Predators. pH levels. All the fun stuff...” You sheepishly trailed off once you realised you began rambling.

You didn’t know but in that moment Daniel was in awe of you. The twinkle in your eyes that rose once you talked about your work. Like your work was your passion. That’s how he felt about F1.

You watched Daniel nod as if he were actually interested. “Do you mind if I come with? I won’t contaminate anything. Promise.”

You mended your brows together. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask to join. But the way Daniel said it… like it was something he had to do or he would regret it for the rest of his life, you couldn’t help feel compelled. “Um, yeah. Do you not have to be on the road or something though? ‘Cause your a driver?”

“Oh F1 only goes between March and November. We’re on holiday at the moment. Well sort of.”

“Oh,” you mumbled out cluelessly. Your cheeks burned with a tinge of embarrassment. How had you managed to get through all these years of living and not known about this?

Daniel laughed lightly at the reddening of your cheeks. Just when he though he could find you any cuter. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you F1. And you can teach me the ocean.”

So the two of you went into your boat. The sun beat down onto you so harshly that for most of it, you had retreated to driving the vessel in the shade as Daniel sat next to you.

It had gone so well that this, whatever it was, became a regular occurrence after you exchanged numbers that day.

You were learning a lot about him and his job. He was actually Italian-Australian. He started this passion with go-karting. You found out F1 wasn’t just racing but it was racing to another extreme. 300 kph. God, getting your car to 100 kph for the open road was thrill enough for you.

That made Daniel wheeze with laughter and promise he would take you for a drive in a sports car to get a taste of the speed he craved for.

Apparently F1 had 10 teams, each with 2 drivers. In each of the teams, the drivers had the same car to drive, cars that were constructed originally by each team. The point of the races were for two championships. The Driver’s World Championship, the title the driver wanted to win, and the Constructors’ Championship, the title everyone from the driver to the team strategist wanted to win. They were calculated by the amount of points received by the drivers in the races.

All the races were settled through a long weekend of sorts. Fridays were for practices to see how the car was on the track as they had different conditions per track. Saturdays were for qualifying. Here, Daniel would push the car to its limits to get the fastest lap time as the drivers were ranked to then get a position for the actual race tomorrow. Sundays were where they raced for points.

All of it was slightly complex, especially with the penalties and rules that they followed. Buy you seemed to get the gist of it.

Daniel had learnt that you had grown up in Australia and like him had to travel a lot for your work. Weirdly, some times his race dates would match up with your travelling. Daniel chose to take that as a sign. You were 8 years younger than him, taking him by a slight surprise. You were 23 and he was 31. But it didn’t seem like it mattered to you. Communication between the two of you was a smooth sail.

Daniel even opened up about his time with Red Bull. A whirl of bad and annoying memories. But when you had said that you would like to see Christian Horner step on to your boat and throw him overboard into a tank of piranhas, only for thirty seconds of course, Daniel had never laughed harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━

By the billionth time you had hung out, the sun was setting in the evening, providing a refreshing cold breeze to match the heat. Christmas was close soon. And Daniel was aching to ask you out.

He had to go into this next season of driving knowing he had you by his side. Even his own family was pushing him to ask. Especially his sister, Michelle, who had dubbed herself the cupid as she was the very brunette who had technically introduced you two, or so she claimed.

The both of you had finished a dive and were heading to Daniel's car. You were supposed to have dinner with his family on this fine evening.

"You good, Danny?" You looked over to the man. Daniel, for the loud and outgoing person he was, was being rather quiet today. You couldn't really put your finger on why either. You took pride in being able to read people. But it looked like his mind was at some sort of battle.

He gave an idle hum, getting into the driver's seat.

You raised a brow, closing the door on the passenger side shut. Your hand reached out to his thigh, making him break his trance and flicker his eyes towards you.

"Listen, I don't know what it is or what's going on. But I'm all ears if you want," You smiled, patting his thigh. You went to remove your hand but Daniel placed his hand over yours, keeping you there.

Daniel's heart was in his throat. He was not normally a nervous man. He was the epitome of confidence. But you seemed to tear that down, in the nicest way, quite easily.

Daniel absorbed your curious eyes before releasing a shaky breath. "Uh," he awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not normally like this. I can't really explain it... but these past few weeks, I... I haven't felt like this in a really long time. With you I feel free... happy... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. And even if I'm ancient, I would really like to be with you. You know. Together. If that wasn't clear."

The smile on your face the moment you realised what was going on hadn't stopped growing. You watches his eyes dart around, looking for a signal of anything. A yes. A no.

You looked down at your hands. The warmth of his spread among your one. You turned your hand to intertwine them with his and squeezed his hand, looking back up at him. "I think you took the words right out my mouth. I like you too, Danny. A lot. Even as an 'old ass man.'"

An odd silence settled within the car as Daniel simply stared at you, honey brown eyes hold your own.

"Danny? Are you okay?"

Daniel's eyes turned into crescents while his infamous wide smile sprawled onto your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You stilled in the passenger seat. Your eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his eyes once again. You weren't sure if you could trust your voice at the moment so you gave a curt nod.

Daniel smiled softly at the flustered expression you sported. Instead of leaning his head in like you expected to, he reached over to your seat and lifted you out of it. You released a small yelp before landing onto his lap, straddling his crotch as you faced towards him.

Daniel's fingers played with the slightly dampened tresses that had fallen around your face and pushed them behind your ears. His fingers trailed down to your heated cheeks and to your jaw. Bringing you closer to him, he leaned his head towards you.

Daniel's lips fell into yours. His hands soon fell to your back as your arms snaked his neck. The world... your surroundings were all gone. All you could feel was each other. His fingers sneaking past the hem of your shirt and grazing your bare skin. The action sent a wave of heat within you.

You let out a small muffled moan causing Daniel to adjust himself in his seat. A bulge had formed in his pants, aching at your touch. You released yourself from him for a gasp of air, which fell into further pleasurable gasps as Daniel's swollen lips had found your neck, leaving a trail of small sloppy kisses.

Daniel rested his chin onto your shoulder before pulling back to look at you. He grinned at your dazed expression. "As much as I would like to continue this in such a fitting setting like a car, I would rather our first time in an actual bed."

You let out a small laugh, feeling yourself fluster even further while you gave him a tight hug.

And that's how your relationship had started. Since then, it had been almost a year. In that year, you had gotten impossibly closer. You had visited his races without telling him because you were scared. You were scared of distracting him and scared for him. The first F1 race you went to matched up to your meetings with other marine biologists and techs in Spain. God, you didn't know cars could even go that fast. The occasional toss of a car to the side sent fear coursing through you.

Eventually, Daniel had found out and reassured you that you being there wouldn't harm anything. In fact, the thought of it calmed him down and encouraged him. He had even introduced you to some of the team and whispered in your ear when he pointed to Red Bull's team principal.

"Oh... so that's the man going overboard. That's a shame. You didn't tell me he look like a sea otter. Sea otters are supposed look cute. I'll just pretend he's plant plankton."

Daniel had never laughed harder at something. Just when he thought he couldn't love you more. God, you were a sight to behold. He would never understand how you managed to be who you were.

You had felt the same.

Well, at least that was until when you met his new teammate in McLaren, Lando Norris.

Lando was two years younger than you and what some people called the British Ricciardo. He was constantly smiling and cracking jokes. He was the moodmaker.

The vibe he had was like an annoying little brother of a sort.

But people obviously didn't feel attracted to someone if they truly thought of them like that.

You shouldn't feel this way. It was wrong. You had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who adored you. You had tried to keep yourself occupied with your job to avoid having to attend too many races and meet the McLaren team, in fear of meeting Lando.

But of course, how were you going to refuse to celebrate Lando's 2nd podium of the year in Monaco when Daniel asked?

So here you were. In a club dressed in a cream coloured set: a long sleeved bralette and a long skirt starting from your waist, ending just before your heels with a slit in the middle.

The compliment you had received in your ear from Daniel made you wish you could say you were dressed for him in the first place. But it would be a lie to say that.

You had navigated yourself around the club to drown yourself in some alcohol. You needed a distraction and you felt that being some what drunk and out of it would've helped.

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk. you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. and i got a boyfriend, he's older than us he's in the club doing, i don't know what you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.

You were out of it for sure. Because sober you did not have the guts you had right now. The guts to not only sit at the same table as Lando but next to him and make fun of his British accent with Carlos.

"No, Carlos. I'm pretty sure he sounded like 'No no no... you ruined my ice cream,'" You laughed lightly as the Spaniard refused to agree with you.

"No he has bit of a weird sound at the 'ruined' part. He sound like those kids in the UK... on the road? What are they again..."

Lando's face burst with amusement. He laughed so hard, he had to prevent his cup from falling out of his hand. "Do you mean..." He gasped for air, "Roadmen?"

Jesus. Carlos Sainz discussing roadmen was the funniest thing that had happened so far.

You weren't sure where Daniel was even. All you knew he was probably talking to some other team member of McLaren. You were rather preoccupied and entranced by the British male next to you.

You couldn't explain it but it was as if there was a magnetic field around him and you, like an element, were simply attracted to him. As if there was no other path to go. He made you laugh differently. Feel differently. He was also a looker. That boyish charm that simply pulled you in. It made you wonder how strong his magnetic field was.

The science of it was simple. You may be a marine biologist but you hadn't flunked physics. The stronger the intensity of a field, the further the magnet, Lando, will be able to attract elements, like you. All you knew was that he was strong enough to inexplicably take you attention away from your own boyfriend.

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face 'cause look at your face. and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but what can i say? you're gorgeous.

This attraction you felt to Lando what ridiculous in itself. But you had felt it from when you first met him and you felt it now. Lando was simply gorgeous. His smile was breathtaking. His laugh felt pretty.

And it infuriated you. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop. These feelings, this flutter, this tingle... make it all stop, you wanted to say.

But you could never say that to his face. How could you? Those same things came back every time you looked at him.

The smile. The flutter. The tingle.

You wondered whether he had even looked at himself in the mirror. You wondered whether ever had felt insecure about the way he looked and that if he did, you wished he hadn't.

Everything thing about him was simply enticing. A delightful view... from the arms of Daniel.

you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you. and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room. if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse. 'cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts.

This feeling... this infatuation was overwhelming for you. You were a taken girl. You had even made it was to the multiple Instagram F1 'WAGs' accounts and were met with the most glorious welcomes by fans.

You needed to get a grip on yourself for Christ's sake. Lando was also taken. Even if he was single, which if you were being honest was an insult to romance itself, you didn't have a chance let alone now. No matter how jealous you were, you had to be realistic. You paled in comparison to the fame Portuguese models that F1 drivers often found themselves with.

Of course, you had to admit they were beautiful. You had no conflict with them. They weren't your classic mean girls. They were impossibly nice and you even found yourself in some interesting conversations. But at the end of the day, you were simply a marine biologist.

So in the darkness of the club, you had managed to isolate yourself from Lando, who had gone with Pierre somewhere, and made the struggling and gruelling effort to talk to anyone else but him. You had conversed with Carlos before he had gone somewhere with his girlfriend. You had settle for Charles as a distraction.

Charles was a pleasure to talk to. As always, he was also so kind and sweet with his words. The type you were sure that when you looked at the, you knew that their mother raised them right.

Daniel had finally found his way to you, mentioning that Zak Brown had just pulled him aside for a talking to. You asked if he was okay, in which he responded with a smile and said: "Now that I'm with you, yes."

You managed to give him a soft and believable smile. Daniel was standing behind you, joining in your conversation with Charles. It wasn't until you were in the midst of a conversation about life in Monaco that you felt a hand on yours.

You smiled gently, expecting it to be Daniel's but instead it was Lando's.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lando's face. His blue eyes bore into yours.

Those goddamn eyes of his would be the end of you. The similarity of them to the oceans you had travelled and the beautiful creatures you had seen was uncanny.

Your heart paced furiously against your chest. He must've been drunk or tipsy to the very least to stumble onto you. There was no way he had purposely wanted you to drown in his eyes.

You sucked in a quiet sharp breath and edged to removed your hand. But as quickly as you had made that decision, the gnawing feeling at your heart had grown more intense and taunted you. Lando's hand hurried to grab yours and place it back where it was.

Your eyes shook with awe and lingered with a dangerous thrill. You could feel his fingers rub the back of your hand gently before intertwining them.

You looked blankly at the table in front of you while Lando had joined in the conversation so casually, like nothing was even going on. You had to thank your stars that the club was able to be as dark as it was.

A lot of the noise around you had turned into white noise and blurs of sound. Charles must've complimented you as you had managed to capture some mention of fish and coral reefs from your boyfriend.

you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and you are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad. you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone unless, you wanna come along?

It was Daniel kissing your cheek fondly and Lando's hand grazing your knee under the table that had brought you back to reality.

The happiness and adrenaline you felt was wrong. You knew with every crevice and fibre of your body that this had to stop. This attraction and sickly sweet infatuation with Lando. God, he just made you so fuzzy. You could barely think straight.

You were stuck in between two men who had their touch on you. It wasn't right. As much as you liked Lando, he angered your entire being. He had simply waltzed into your life. He was playing along with your feelings.

Lando's damning eyes averted to you when he felt your hand slip away from him forcefully.

You hoped the guilt in your eyes shone as much as they could in this darkness.

You were going to have to break up with a man who would give you everything. You would have to leave all of... this... and get away from here.

You needed everything to return to normal. You had no idea how exactly you were going to explain a sudden return home without inflicting any suspicion.

All you knew now was that you had to make a lengthy apology to a man you had not realised you had fallen out of love with.

You supposed that was love.

Love was a bittersweet feeling. It was beautiful and fluttering but brought a lot of tragedy and strife along with it.

That was love: simply gorgeous.

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