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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years

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Little Bird: Chapter 24

Read on AO3. Part 23 here. Part 25 here.

Summary: Remember life before you were a Resistance spy fucking her Commander? There was so much less intrigue, back then.

Words: 2500

Warnings: Handmaid AU

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Oopsie sorryyyyyy. I gotta stick to the pacing, y'all, gotta be true to who I am.

Really happy for the feedback on the last chapter, as it was entirely new for me to write a scene with like, that many people doing that many things, haha. I'm so glad it seemed to maintain some tension. I'm out here trying to grow my writing skills namsayin'.

Anyway, I love y'all so much, as usual. I am so blessed to even one or two folks give a shit about what I write, so, thank you. <3

“Little bird.”

The sound of Kylo Ren’s voice at your door jolted you awake in the mid-dawn hours of the morning. Beyond your window, the sun was just barely beginning to crack through the horizon--goldenrod rays split through puffy pink clouds, an ombre of Easter-egg color stretching like a tapestry across the sky. Silent, you rolled out of bed, hesitating. You were in your nightgown. Should you tie up your hair, put on your dress? He’d already seen you naked, it wasn’t as if--

The door opened, and you leapt back, folding your arms over your chest as blood rushed your face. Ren stood, a barrier between you and the hallway, casting a glance over you before meeting your eyes. Jaw tensing, he stepped into the room and shut the door, sucking oxygen and tranquility from the air.

“Good morning, Commander.” You took another step back, hip hitting your mattress.

Ren’s lids fluttered in thought as he glimpsed the sunrise, then looked back to you. “My name.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t want to test you.”

“You have an interesting way of showing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your behavior last night.”

“My behavior?” Heat festered at your toes, climbing your spine. “What about your behavior? What about you will be safe?” There was more anger than you wanted to admit--more hurt than you were willing to acknowledge. “If your Wife hadn’t intervened, who knows where I’d be right now.”

Ren’s expression was as flat as ever. “Johana’s intervention would have been unnecessary if you had behaved.”

“I think you know very well by now that I’m not one to silence my criticisms of Gilead.” A tiny smirk tugged at your lips. “In fact, I seem to remember you being interested in those criticisms.”

His gaze drifted--he stared over your shoulder, into the wall. His hands tensed, curling in and out of fists. “Circumstances changed.”

You remembered how he’d appeared talking to Snoke, the man before you now incompatible with the boyish fear you’d seen flash behind your Commander’s eyes. You hated that this trembled your heart, urged you toward understanding--because you also remembered the atrocities he’d admitted to organizing, the bodies that hung from his hands. How could these two pieces of person find room in the same mind, how a demon could wrestle its way into humanity, tear it apart, make a home? Remembering Ren’s uncertain voice on the recording, though--Ben Solo’s voice--perhaps the demon needn’t have wrestled at all. Perhaps he’d been invited in.

Chewing your lip, you shrugged again. “Well, so have mine, Commander.”

Ren frowned and stepped toward you, pulling something small and flat from his pocket. You flinched, throwing up your arms in defense--he snatched your hand, shoving the object into your open palm. Blinking, you examined it. It was a small, wooden handle, lined with steel bolsters, a fat silver button embedded in the scale. Tilting it in your grip, you spied the hidden blade and gasped, glaring at him.

“A switchblade?” You tried to wrench away, but he held you in his grasp. “What’s this for?”

Eyes darting over your face, he curled your fingers around it. “If the Council believes you to be working for the Resistance, their sympathy for your possible pregnancy will disappear. They will do whatever is needed to get the information they want.” He released you, nodded toward the knife. “If they attempt to capture you.”

For a moment, you were speechless, focus switching between him and the weapon. There was no way he was intending you fight anyone with such a tiny blade.

“Are you telling me to kill myself if they try to capture me?” You snorted. “Can’t you at least give me a gun?”

“Your skill with a pistol leaves much to be desired.” His tone was almost tender--you would’ve thought he was teasing you if he hadn’t just instructed you to slit your own throat if you were apprehended by the Eyes.

“Do you really think they’ll be coming after me so soon?” You pressed the button, and the blade shot out--you jumped.

Ren took your hand again, folding the knife back into a locked position and flipping the safety, then returned his attention to you. “I’d prefer to be prepared for anything, after your performance last night.”

You sighed, tugging your arm away. “Fine. But I’m not… I’m not doing that. I hope you know that.”

“Do what you wish with it.” He turned and opened the door. His face was stone. “But you have it.”

Wiggling it in your fingers, you nodded. “I have it.”

His gaze flitted over your figure a final time, and he left, shutting the door behind him.

The rest of your morning was, thankfully, far less eventful than your Commander suggesting you create a suicide pact with yourself. As you prepared for your walk, however, the feeling of looming dread grew heavier and heavier over your shoulders. Armitage could have made an educated guess regarding your relationship with Ren--it didn’t necessarily had to have come from a reliable source. But the idea that it was even possible, that Ofarmitage could’ve sold you out to her own illicit affair swept you in a tide of nausea. You’d have to bring it up with her. For both of your sakes.

Before you left your room, you considered the switchblade. It was thin, discreet enough that it would fit up your sleeve, but to take it seemed like you’d be agreeing with Ren--that, yes, your life was in danger, that you needed an escape plan. Yet, it was his way of giving you a choice. Of protecting you. You shoved it up your sleeve and left the house.

Despite the continued soreness at your backside, you were able to walk normally--another fact you could be thankful for. You trudged out past the front lawn and through the front gate, noticing Ren’s car had disappeared for the day. The knife in your sleeve had already made itself at home; after only a few minutes, you barely remembered it.

You met Ofarmitage at the sidewalk, seeking out some evidence of betrayal in her demeanor, but found none. She appeared as standoffish as ever.

“Blessed be the fruit,” you said.

“May the Lord open.”

You sidled up next to her, scanning her, willing yourself to see into her mind. There was no good time to confront her, really.

“What’s your relationship with Armitage like?” You kept your back straight, your eyes forward.

“Why do you ask?” No sound of tremor in her voice.

“I just…” There was some honesty in the question, despite the intention. “I wonder what he does to make you feel that he loves you.”

Ofarmitage was silent, for a moment. No change in the shuffle of her shoes. “It’s… small stuff,” she said. “He’ll leave me things. A cube of sugar. A flower. A quarter--you know, from before.” Another pause. “He’ll make me laugh. On purpose.” A soft sigh escaped her. “He’ll make sure my uniform is straight before I leave the house.”

You swallowed. The admission brought a strange mixture of sickness and envy and pity to your chest. To imagine the awful weasel you’d met last night doing such things seemed unbelievable--and to recognize how grateful she was for such tiny concessions was crushing. And still, a whiny little voice in the back of your head bemoaned how the only things your Commander had left you were a switchblade and beltburn.

“Knowing that he does all of that for you,” you said, “what do you do for him?”

The question brought silence crashing between you, a silence that hovered and clung to the air as you approached the Guardian checkpoint. You handed over your passes, and as the men verified them, you glimpsed her from beyond your wings. Her face was tight, chin jutting in strain. The Guardians returned your passes and you continued forward, toward the market. She still didn’t respond.

“I was just curious if--”

“Yes,” she said, “I told him. I told him, okay?”

“I knew it.” Heat--relief, rage--flooded you. “Why, though? I don’t get it.”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I think you’re right that I wouldn’t.” If she’d told her Commander about your relationship, had she told him about the Resistance, too? “What did you tell him? Did you tell him everything?”

“No!” Her hands, still holding her bag, twisted together. “I’m not trying to… I know I want to stay, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to the Resistance.”

You balked. “So, just me, then?”

“I didn’t...” She paused, lowering her voice. “I wasn’t thinking. I just… I wanted…”

“You wanted what?” You wanted to shake her. “You knew what could happen if you told anybody!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say,” she mumbled. “I told you that you wouldn’t understand.”

You sneered. “Try me.”

“He said…” Her voice was tiny, tight. “If… If your Commander was out of the way, then he could…” You heard the distant swallow of her distress. “He’d change things.”

“Oh.”

Ren’s words rumbled through your mind: My design is to perfect it. Perhaps every Commander was using their Handmaids in a vie for power--but Ren hadn’t pried you for information. He hadn’t even cared you were part of the Resistance. You weren’t sure who you pitied more: Ofarmitage, for capitulating--or yourself, for the creeping sense of superiority that your Commander hadn’t ever asked it of you. As if this fact made his feelings more legitimate, more real.

What did their basis in reality matter? To live them out would be to sacrifice your autonomy--to sell your soul to a monster.

“So you seriously didn’t think about what might happen to me?” You were almost at the market--you lowered your voice. “If my Commander were implicated in an illegal relationship with me?”

Ofarmitage was silent until you approached the doors. “No, you’re right,” she said. “I did think about it.” She said nothing else, and disappeared into the store.

You stood, paralyzed, for a moment. It was becoming apparent to you that love and exploitation were synonymous in Gilead. Even if there was something genuine between Ofarmitage and her Commander, it was impossible for him, in his role, to fail to abuse it. Ren had said it himself--he wanted to possess you utterly, and he planned to make you complicit in that. If only there wasn’t a part of you that was willing to risk it.

The walk back from the market was spent in silence--you were unable to decide if you felt fury or pity for her. It might have been easier to be angry if you weren’t so close to understanding how she’d made her choice.

As you arrived at the Guardian checkpoint, you produced your passes again, taking the opportunity to check in with her. She met your eyes for a flicker of a second before staring into her feet. Pulling your lips over your teeth, you went to take your pass from the Guardian, only to find it was still in his hand.

“Ofkylo?” he said, scrutinizing it.

You’d forgotten about your knife. It suddenly felt like a boulder in your sleeve. “Yes…”

He glanced at his partner, mumbling something to him, fire coursing through your veins. Adrenaline hijacked your brain, telling you now that they’d found you, they were going to stuff you in a van, tie you up and torment you, that the only option was throw it all to the ground--forget Ofarmitage, forget the Resistance, forget Ren--and fucking run.

The other Guardian studied your pass, glancing between it and you, for some reason. Your photo wasn’t on it. “No. It’s fine,” he said to his partner. He handed it back to you. “Get moving.”

You nodded, hoping that the level of sweat at your forehead could be attributed to the weather. Turning your face to the ground, you shuffled forward, heart beating in your throat. Fury--it was definitely fury that you felt for Ofarmitage in this moment, and once you’d obtained a comfortable distance from the Guardians, it tore out of you.

“Did you see that?” you hissed. “I thought they were about to kill me.”

She shrugged. “Well, they didn’t, did they?”

“But do you realize what could’ve happened if the circumstances were different?” you asked. “I almost just ran!”

“But you didn’t.”

“How can you be so… so blase about this?” you growled. “Don’t you see what you’ve done?”

“I know what I did, Ofkylo--”

You seized her, spinning her toward you. “You gambled with my life!”

Her eyes, shiny with tears, struck you through. “You did!” she said. “You gambled with it. All I did was tell the only person who has ever made me feel like a human in three years!” She shook her head, shoving you off of her. “I’m sorry for what I did. I am. But I didn’t… I didn’t do it so your life would be in danger, or whatever.” She swallowed. “I did it so mine would be worth living.”

The anger in your chest fizzled out, then, like you’d been doused with ice water. You drew in a slow breath through your nose, gazing at her before turning back to the sidewalk. You didn’t forgive her, no. But that feeling--desperation, emptiness, a longing to be anything other than nothing--you understood that. You understood her.

And she was right, at least. Nothing had happened. You’d made it back to the home. At the gate, you nodded a silent goodbye to her, allowing yourself to relax, and turned into the front yard.

Ren’s black Audi had returned to the driveway. And another car was there, too--also black--a stretch Cadillac limo, the windows completely opaque. You slowed your step, fists tight around your bag, gazing at it with suspicion. The metronome of your pulse quickened with every new thrum of your heart as you crept forward, shoulders hunching--and once you approached the back door, it flew open. You screamed, hopping back.

“Oh, there’s no need to scream.”

That voice. Fear numbed you, plunged you into a breathless, lightless tunnel.

Commander Snoke stepped out of the vehicle, gesturing toward the door. “Come and sit, won’t you?” He glimpsed the bag in your hands. “Just leave that there for the Marthas.”

Thousands of words reeled through your head, absolutely none of them helpful. Frost coated your insides, emptied you of warmth. This was it. Ren was right. He was going to take you and torture you. You thought of the blade in your sleeve--no. You wouldn’t do that. Not yet, anyway.

Nodding, you stuck out your chin. “I’m glad you asked.”

You abandoned the bag in the grass, keeping his gaze as you strode toward him, holding it with triumph until you bowed into the vehicle. Blood fled your face. Seated across from you, crammed against the partition, was your Commander, Kylo Ren. His eyes met yours, his expression as vacant as you felt. Watching him, your chest fell with a trembling, terrified breath. Then Snoke eased himself into the car, and shut the door.

“Now that we’re all together,” he said, “let’s chat.”

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #handmaid au #fanfiction problems #nerd whinings #whoops i'm sorryyyyyyyy I love a little chekov though y'know

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a-jynx · 4 years

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𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓀 & 𝒟𝒾𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓃𝒹𝓈 |𝒞𝒽. 2 | 𝒢𝒶𝓎 𝒫𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈

“Darling, don’t ever be too shy to dance your heart out.”

| Official Series Tags |

@trashmouth-hargrove, @harringrovetrashh, @greyspilot, @lostnoise, @myboyfriendsteve, @stevefuckingharrington, @negativenuggetz, @awickedplacethisis, @ihateitheredude, @emobiscuit, @billysdanglyearring, @hartigays, @mychemicalobsession514, @garlicglue, @splicedthoughts, @reddielover1994, @trashycatarcade, @gohan111111, @wingedbears, @withoutmonsters, @tracy7307, @geraltxfrivia, @elsb-hrngtons, @big–yikes, @gideongrace, @thesecondbraincell, @mythicalbeyotch, @gaia-is-sucktastic, @kingofno-whereville, @magniloquent-raven, @pointeful, @converseandciggarettes, @brieflyhauntedwhispers, @harringroveismydaddy, @froggish-lesbian, @geesebeef, @thevipsupersecretsupperclub, @silly-lioness, @wizzhaniyfa, @harringrovehell, @billyisabottom, @harringrovewhorexx, @steveharringtonsass, @itscaebutgay, @married2pizza24-7, @banamalik, @wizzhaniyfa, @tiggermay, @baconspice, @hmg621, @oldwanderingsoul, @feralfuckingqueer, @3m0t10n4lbirb, @theoncomingstormvictory, @kingofno-whereville, @pieceofcrumbcake, @takemebythehand-andsetmefree, @moonimagines, @cadodraws, @dracula-incarnate, @lovebillyhargrove,

| You can be added or removed from this taglist, as it will be the taglist for the complete fic! (If a mark is through your name, Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you!) |

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“Last to arrive, yet last to leave,” Billy smirked as the Harrington family came from the dressing room. Maxine and Carter grinned, rushing towards him as he crouched wrapping his arms tightly around the two, hugging them close. “God, Maxie, you got so big!” He ruffled her hair as she made a sound of annoyance.

“I’m still the same Maxie!” She nodded once as he mirrored it, standing he met Hendrix, who flashed him a small smile before hugging him close as well.

“And where’d my little Drix go!? I swear just last weekend you were down to my hip.” Billy chuckled as Hendrix joined in, shaking his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nah, come on, Billy! Y’ know I turned eighteen a few weeks ago.” He shrugged as Billy nodded, squeezing Hendrix’s shoulder.

“Of course I know like I’d forget,” Billy smirked, his attention drawn towards Steve, whose eyes were practically glued to his phone. Each time it buzzed in his hand, Steve’s brows would deepen into a crease while his lips tightened into a frown. Billy easily mirrored the action.

“Are you guys going home?” He murmured, making Steve turn his attention away from his phone.

“Uh, no… We have to go get Carter’s costume made up for her solo this weekend. Which we’re leaving for Friday morning, right?” Steve asked, his eyes looking everywhere but Billy’s own. He frowned at the poor guy, whatever had taken place this morning riled him - startled him and he was staying on his toes.

“Yeah, we’re leaving Friday morning, eight sharp, alright?” Billy flashed him a kind smile, nodding as the Harrington tribe nodded back, all wandering out as Billy gripped Steve’s shoulder, causing a noise to escape his throat. He watched as Steve spun to meet his gaze, eyes wide as he stumbled to meet Billy’s eyes.

“Are you sure you're alright?” He asked his hand heavy on the soft shoulder of Steve’s shirt. Steve shrugged, gently leaning away from Billy’s touch, glancing back to his phone before clearing his throat.

“Fine. I’ll see you Friday, alright?” Steve said a tight smile as he shouldered past Billy, his hand stretched out in front of him and his eyes glued once again to his phone. Billy frowned, rolling his eyes as he followed, closing and locking the doors as Max came barreling out of the acro class.

“Max? What’re you - what happened?”

“Uh, Simon Jones may have just twisted his ankle trying to tackle a double back flip and he may have landed on it sideways.” She huffed out a chuckle, rubbing at her neck before rounding the counter, rushing back to her class with Billy in tow.

“Are you kidding me?!” He hissed out through clenched teeth, grabbing her elbow with a huff as she snapped her head around, her thick braid smacking him.

“What?”

“I thought we agreed that the Jones kids weren’t allowed back into acro after the last incident.” He groaned, rubbing his hand down his face, attempting to ignore the slight sting on his cheek and jaw from the thick braid. Max cracked a small smile, using her free hand and rubbing at the back of her neck.

“I know, but uh… This may be a bad time to mention I might have added Taylor and Shaw to the competition doing an acrobatic routine.” She hissed as Billy’s eyes widened, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You added them without consulting me first?!” He hissed, rubbing at his face with both hands, groaning into his palms as Max flashed him a grin.

“Lily paid me extra for lessons! I wasn’t about to turn down a customer in your business, dickwad!”

“Okay, shitbird, I don’t care that she paid for extra lessons, that’s awesome honestly, but you need to talk to me before you even think about adding kids into the competition that is this weekend and they haven’t learned one dance.”

“Well, she may have paid me a little extra… To put her kids in the competition…” Her voice trailed as Billy’s face fell, making him hiss and groan before facepalming with a huff.

“Isn’t that a bribe?” He mumbled, as she shrugged, stepping backward and pushing into her classroom, Billy quickly followed to see Simon laying on the floor, his brothers’ sitting with him.

“Miss Mayfield! Mr. Hargrove!” The class broke into a quiet stammer as Max rushed over, putting the ice on Simon’s ankle as he sat up, grinning sheepishly at the teachers.

“Hi, Mr. Hargrove-”

“Simon… Si, come on, I thought we talked about this,” Billy sighed.

“I - I know! I know we did, but I’m ready!” Simon grinned, waving for his brothers’ to help him up, only to have Billy wave them off. He squatted down to Simon, grabbing his shoulder with a small smile.

“I know your mom wants you all in the comp this weekend, but you can’t just… Join in and expect yourself to be an expert, especially when you haven’t even learned the dance the group is doing.” Billy mumbled, hoping to keep the embarrassment down for him. He hated having to talk down a student who had clear potential… Simon slowly nodded, frowning as Billy helped him up. Taylor grabbed the ice pack as Shaw stooped underneath his other armpit and helped him hop towards the locker room, not wanting to strain his already hurt foot.

“Thank you boys.” Billy nodded as they sat Simon down, a huff leaving him as the other Jones boys nodded, mumbling to their brother before walking back into the classroom. Billy sat next to him, reaching up and ruffling up his shagged hair with a grin as Simon huffed, a smile already on his lips.

“You have potential here, Si, but you need to make sure you can trust yourself first. Trusting your body to know what to do - muscle memory - to get it down and protect yourself while dancing. You can’t… Well, you can’t dwell too much on the movements.” Billy shrugged, glancing towards the young boy who was frowning, yet nodding along.

“So… I need to trust my body, not my mind?” He mumbled as Billy snorted, nodding.

“Exactly. And don’t worry, it’ll take time for you to get, trust me, I took years to finally get it. So, all I can say is you’re doing better than me at your age.” Billy grinned as Simon’s face lit up, a large smile breaking across his face.

“Wait, really..? How long did it take you to… Become good?” He murmured, glancing at Billy. He couldn’t but snicker.

“It took a couple of years, I only started dancing because of my mom. She was… Graceful. Beautiful. I dreamed of looking as fluid as she did while she danced.” Billy smiled, feeling the weight in his chest grow before huffing. “My father hated it, however. Believed it was… Distasteful for a man to dance. Believed it was-”

“Gay?”

Billy blinked, swallowing thickly and tipping his head left-to-right with a shrug. Simon’s brows furrowed as he sighed.

“I wouldn’t say gay, but… He thought it was wrong for a man to dance, especially in ballet. He saw dance as a woman’s hobby, not a sport or… Competitive. Just that it was dainty and-”

“Mr. Hargrove!” The door shot open, revealing Taylor. “Our mother wants to talk to you.” He frowned as he moved forward, helping Simon up as Billy stood, stooping down some and catching his shoulder underneath Simon’s armpit.

“Let’s get you to the front.” He mumbled as they started towards the front, Simon hobbling between them as Lily, Mrs. Jones, came rushing over. Her hands gripped Simon’s face, holding him as she held back sobs.

“Oh, my poor boy! Look at you, you can’t even walk by yourself anymore!” She gushed, pulling him forward as Taylor and Shaw stood to the side, snickering as Simon held his middle finger up behind his mother’s back, making Billy join in on the laughs.

“Mrs. Jones-”

“You! This is all your fault!” She snapped, still holding onto Simon’s face, using one hand to wave at Billy, making him fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Mrs. Jones, I can promise you Simon will be fine-”

“Of course he will! I’m taking him to the best doctor in California and then I’ll be finding the best lawyer to sue you for injuring my son!” She growled, wiggling her French tip nail in his face before he patted it away, frowning. Dread already building in his chest.

“Mom!” Shaw gaped.

“Mom, seriously that doesn’t need to happen!” Taylor reasoned, walking towards her.

“Can you let go of me, please?!” Simon snapped, gently shoving himself up and away from her as he shook his head. “There’s no reason to sue Mr. Hargrove!”

“You got hurt!”

“Because I didn’t trust myself!” Simon spat, glancing to Billy, who smiled some and nodded, making Simon grin before turning back to his mother. “I… I didn’t trust myself and I got too caught up in my mind. Then, I fell on my ankle. But don’t blame Mr. Hargrove or Ms. Mayfield for something that’s my fault!” Simon huffed, swallowing audibly as Billy took a step closer, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, turning his attention to Mrs. Jones.

“Lily, you know I love your kids. I love having them here and them representing my company. But, please, don’t make the entire studio suffer because Simon missed a step.” Billy urged, stepping forward as Taylor and Shaw stepped around him and their mother, grabbing Simon and helping him out the front doors. Lily glanced towards her boys before turning back to Billy, huffing with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh… Alright. Fine. Just because my boys seem so fond of you, and… You’re just such a good role model to them.” Lily gushed, stepping towards Billy, leaning into his chest as he fought off a grimace, chuckling before nodding.

“I… I love your family, really, Mrs. Jones.” He emphasized on her name, causing her to stumble back while clearing her throat.

“Well, then, you should join us for dinner Monday! After we win the competition!” She grinned, leaning close, only for him to shuffle sideways. Praying that someone would strike him down as she followed him around the counter, making him grimace as she gripped his wrist, making him groan.

“I - Lily, truly I couldn’t intrude like that-”

“It’s not intruding if I invite you, silly.” She giggled, brushing the tips of her manicured nails against Billy’s arms. Goosebumps lumped up and caused him to shiver as Max came around the corner, skipping to a stop as she cleared her throat.

“Mrs. Jones, maybe you should get Simon to the doctors?” She asked, frowning as she crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes as Lily stepped away, blinking as she giggled nervously.

“Oh, of course… I’ll call you to let you know what the doctors say.” She winked, backing away and sashaying out of the studio as Billy groaned, flopping back into the wheeled office chair. Max snickered as she leaned against the counter, smirking as Billy rubbed down his face, looking at her with pouted lips.

“And you think,” she started, making him arch his brow. “She would take the hint with our.. Repeating theme.” She nodded towards the tack board. Multiple colored flags hung there, along with a plaque up about respecting everyone and their own choices; leave your beliefs at the door, we’re here to dance. Competition dates, birthday cards, thank you cards, flyers and offers just taped as everyone was in such a rush to actually tack it.

“Some people are oblivious even to the most obvious of things…” Billy huffed, leaning back in the chair as Max rounded the counter, sitting on the lip of it with a shrug.

“You don’t show it too well around the other parents.”

“What’re you talking about..?” He glared. Max sighed.

“I’m talking about your gay pining thoughts!” She spat, swinging her leg around as he narrowed his eyes, scoffing.

“My gay pining thoughts? What are you talking about!”

“You’re acting as if I have closed up the studio with you. And if I’m being honest with you, everyone here has already placed bets on whether it's going to be you or Steve that makes the first move-”

“Woah, woah, woah, wait a second, Steve’s married-”

“Unhappily.” Max added as Billy gaped, rolling his eyes.

“Happily or not, he’s still married! I’m not… I’m not going to be a homewrecker.” He huffed, feeling his chest tighten at the mere thought of Steve continuing in his situation… The kids being taken away… Steve being lost onto the streets of South California.

“I heard they may get a divorce.” Tommy suddenly quipped, causing the siblings to jump and turn to see him wiping at his forehead. Billy quickly frowned and stood as Max leaned against the upper lip, frowning as well.

“What’re you talking about, Hagan? Reagan and Steve have been married for… Years. Why would they get a divorce?” Billy shot, testing it as Tommy shrugged, leaning against the wall next to him. Holding up his hands in defense.

“I’m just telling you what I heard.” He murmured. Billy frowned and scoffed, shaking his head, causing a few curls to escape his bun.

“Yeah? And who’d you hear it from?”

“One of the moms - Tammy? She mentioned Reagan texting her saying, and I quote, ‘Steven hasn’t been fulfilling my needs as a husband!! I mean he does nothing around the house except play with those snot-nosed brats and take Carter to dance! He’s a disgrace and he honestly doesn’t deserve me.’” Tommy quoted at the end as Billy and Max both shared a look. Nobody, at the Hargrove Studio, liked Reagan. She was banned from the property unless Steve had business to attend and couldn’t drop off the kids himself.

“She… Reagan texted that to Tammy?! She talked about Steve like that, seriously?! He’s a better father than half the… The assholes that the women here are married too!” Billy bit, snarling and baring his teeth like some wild dog as Max held back her giggle, nodding along with him.

“You’re getting heated, Billy.” Aubrey murmured, walking by with a few new costumes in her hand as Billy felt the heat rush up from his chest.

“I - No, I’m not. I just… It’s shitty for a wife to be talking about her husband that way! Especially when he is kind enough to take care of the kids while she’s gone literally all day!” Billy growled, backing up and flopping down into his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest as Tommy and Max shared a glance.

“Bill, why don’t you take the night?” Tommy suggested, making him frown.

“What..?”

“Yeah! Take the night off, you’ve been here all morning, and I’m pretty sure you’ve been here all night too.” Max grinned, scooting off of the edge and patting Billy's shoulder. Tommy nodded, dragging off the towel with a smirk.

“See, even Max-a-million agrees! And she rarely agrees with me.”

Billy rolled his eyes, shrugging off Max’s hand and taking a step away from them, causing them to share a look as he moved back towards his classroom.

“Listen, I get you both are just looking out for me, but I can’t just take the night off! I mean, I need to get the costumes organized-”

“Done.” Aubrey pipped in, walking by with a few of said costumes in hand, Billy felt heat rise up.

“Okay, uh, thank you Aub, but what about the older kids list? I mean, they don’t know-”

“Tommy and I already went over that today. That’s what we did at the beginning of our classes.” Max shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest with a slight smirk. Billy blinked, trying to fight back to the urge to scream.

“Fine, awesome, yeah great but what about..” His voice trailed as he sighed. “Let me guess, whatever I continue to come up with, you guys have already covered?” He tested, slightly glaring at his sister and crew, who all grinned, nodding.

“Perfect… Fine, yeah, I’ll go home but I’m getting here early tomorrow so we can leave!” He growled as Tommy grabbed his backpack, shoving it into Billy’s arms and pushing him towards the glass doors.

“Go get some rest, Bill, I’m serious!” Tommy called after him, closing the doors and making it clear he locked them behind Billy with a shake of them. He rolled his eyes, flicking his middle finger over his shoulder before walking towards his lightening blue Camaro. Tugging open the driver side door, he tossed his backpack into the passenger seat, starting the car with a groan.

__________

Pulling into his assigned parking spot and flicking off the engine. He sat in silence, his hands flexed against the steering wheel. His eyes flickered around, noticing the few decorative bushes swaying against the gentle California breeze pushing against them. The bright yellow street lights shining down onto the sidewalk, the iron stairwell shone dully.

Inhaling deeply, he sighed out of his mouth, pulling the keys out and grabbing his backpack, he tugged it onto his shoulder before climbing out, slamming it shut with a huff as he trudged up to his apartment. A smile broke across his lips as he pushed open the dark oak door, a loud mewl and small patter of paws echoed as he closed the door and hung his bag up, his keys clattering into the small ceramic bowl.

“There’s my little girl!” Billy stooped down, fighting back a grimace as he scooped up the small ball of black and white fur, grinning as she began to purr against his calloused palm. “Hi, Moo-Moo,” he grinned, adjusting her body to rest on his shoulder as he moved through the apartment, listening to the purring in his ear as he sat her on the counter, barely glancing when she jumped down and ate at her bowl.

He flinched as he bent at his knees, pulling out some left over Panda Express and huffing as he placed the Styrofoam box in the microwave. Pressing a few buttons, Billy opened his medicine cabinet, frowning as his hands grasped three different prescribed pill bottles. The pills rattled against one another as he pressed them open, sighing as the chalky white pills stumbled and fell into his hand, taking one from each as he popped them into his mouth, quickly swallowing them with a huff.

A gentle meow came from besides him, making him smile softly as he screwed the lids back on before placing them back in the cabinet, patting the counter as she pounced up, rubbing against his hand as he grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, sweetpea.” He murmured to her, causing her to meow as he rolled his eyes, opening the microwave and grabbing out his grilled chicken chow mien, snatching a fork out of the drying rack and moving towards the living room, Moo-Moo following close behind. Settling into the bright blue sofa, Moo-Moo curling up next to him with a soft purr in approval. He grinned, propping his food on his lap, holding it with one hand while the other rubbed against her head. “You’re so lucky you’re cute.” He mumbled, reaching forward and turning on the TV, allowing whatever channel it turned on to continue to play.

He settled in, eating the chicken with a smirk, barely registering what the TV was droning on about as he chewed thoughtfully before swallowing and sitting there. Was Tommy right..? Is Reagan planning on leaving Steve? Is she taking the kids..? No. No, she wouldn’t do that. She’s not going to leave him after nine years! They… They have it good. Tommy was just bluffing. Right…?

He huffed, snapping shut the box and glancing at the clock. 11:30 PM. Jesus. Billy stood, disturbing Moo-Moo, who mewled angrily as he turned off the TV and moved towards the kitchen, stuffing his left overs back into their original place before flipping off all of the lights, scratching at the back of his head as he swayed down the hallway. Stopping to lean against his bedroom’s doorway, staring into the dark room. Moo-Moo ran between his legs, hopping onto his queen size bed, lowering herself onto the dark blue comforter with a loud purr.

“How come I bought you a bed, yet you decide to still sleep in mine..?” He questioned, shaking his head as he reached up, releasing his curls from the messy bun, sighing as the tension vanished. Cracking his door open, he kicked off his copper lined tights, hissing at the pain as his knee began to throb and ache. Tossing them into the dirty pile, he tugged open his side table's drawer, pulling out the numbing cream with an annoyed huff.

Popping open the cap, he squeezed out a good amount before splatting it onto his knee area and huffed as the tingles began to work through it, making him hiss as he smear it around before wincing and fighting back the urge to scream. Peeling off his old tank, he smeared off the extra cream off of his hand, huffing before tossing it into the dark with a growl.

He shifted himself further onto the bed, laying down as his fur friend crawled up, pawing at his chest gently making him chuckle as he rubbed his knuckle against her head, making her purr loud against him.

“You care too much, Moo-Moo.” He whispered into the dark, closing his eyes slowly as his thumb caressed the soft swirled black and white fur ball snuggled closer to his cheek, making him sigh with a smile. “But at least you care.” He sighed, leaning into the warmth with a quiet mumble as they lulled each other to a soft sleep..

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weirdochick56 · 5 years

Text

Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU Chapter Seven

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: TeacherxStudent relationship. Slightly Underage reader x adult teacher. An almost-sexual-assault scene. If this triggers you please don’t read. Violence. (just a small fight scene) Disclaimers: I don’t own CE or you. I don’t condone any relationship of this kind. This is for fictional and entertainment purposes only.

A/N: Also, can we all just agree that if at any point a woman or anyone else says “no” or “stop”, you have to respect their wishes? CONSENT IS EVERYTHING PERIOD! Word Count: 4, 392 words

Read Chapter Six Here!!

(Gif isn’t mine!)

The thing you hated about parties the most was the fact that they never seemed to end.

Well, actually, that was the second thing you hated about them the most. The thing you actually hated the most about parties was having to dress up.

“God fuckin- Margo,” you groan, tugging at the soft fabric of your black cocktail dress.

“What?” She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gaze trained on the road ahead of her.

“This thing is too short.”

Laughing, your best friend shakes her head at your apprehensiveness. “You can not be serious, Y/n. That dress is like, six inches above your knees. Max. And it’s long at the back so...”

You lean back into the comfy seat of Margo’s sedan, grumbling. “I don’t like heels.”

She wiggles her brows. “They make your legs look great, though.”

You can’t argue the point with her any longer and hated to admit she was right. The strappy heels which wrapped all the way just below your knees and off-shoulder dress that hugged your top but spread out at the bottom required a considerable amount of cash from your father's bank account but looked really good on you.

The style was so far from your usual jeans and sneakers minimalist fashion but tonight you actually looked...pretty.

But that was just you. Margo insisted that you always looked pretty. The only difference tonight was that you looked “extremely fuckable.”

Not your favorite choice of wording but fair enough.

While getting ready, you’d asked her to go easy on the makeup (which she did not want to do) in exchange for you to let her do whatever she wanted to your hair.

She’d reluctantly agreed, only applying a thick layer of mascara to your lashes, shimmering eyeshadow to your lids and a pink-tinted lip gloss.

She didn’t do as much as you would’ve thought with the hair though, opting to curl it all instead of the crazy up-do you’d been expecting. The curls were big and loose and sexy. You looked bold and sophisticated and for once you felt good about your appearance.

“So this party,” you start. “How long is it gonna last?”

“Oh. As long as you want it to, baby.” She smirks in that typical Margo fashion that made you uneasy as hell.

“Oh no,” you groan softly under your breath.

Tonight was going to be a disaster, you just knew it.

Jenna Miller��s mansion was huge. Huge as in it may actually have been an entire estate.

The music was loud and even as you made your way up the steps of the front lawn, your feet still vibrated with the strong bass of “Pumped Up Kicks” by Foster The People.

You almost hold back a wince at the multiple couples on the literal brink of having sex right then and there. Almost.

Margo, who wore a tight red dress showing off all her incredible curves and monstrous black heels, hugged you to her, puckering her ruby red lips. “C’ mon Y/n. Stop being such a prude. A little kissing never hurt anyone.”

You laugh at her incredulously, pointing to a nearby couple practically dry-humping eachother. “That is not kissing. That is full-on sex.”

She smirks. “You mind now, but I’m sure if it was a certain English teacher kissing you, you wouldn’t mind in the least.”

You flush almost immediately at the sound of Mr. Evans and kissing in the same sentence, gulping a lump in your throat. If only she knew.

“Let’s just go in, yeah?” You rasp, walking in ahead of her.

She mumbles something about you “acting weird lately” under her breath but follows you all the same.

The inside of the house is not much better than the outside, with people drinking and hollering loudly. Some are making out in various places of the living area and most are just dancing like crazy.

You link your arms with Margo almost instinctively, your social anxiety kicking in at the overwhelming sight. I should’ve stayed home watching the rest of the third season of Breaking Bad, you think regretfully.

Margo smiles down at you softly. patting your hand reassuringly. “It’ll be okay, Y/n. Just relax. I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

The third thing you hated most about parties happened to be that Margo thrived in them.

Which meant it’d hadn’t even when an hour before she’d gone to get you drinks that she’d been surrounded by a crowd of her other friends, obscuring your view of her except for her head as another crowd of sweaty teens came in, blocking her off completely.

This immediately makes you anxious and you push your way through the crowd but it’s almost impossible. A string of “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” follow close behind as you practically shove people away in desperate search of your friend, but when you make it to the other side where Margo had previously been in, she was gone.

You look around the immediate premise for her a bit more, but she’s nowhere to be found. You just hope she’ll eventually make her way back to where you’d been last.

You assumed she’d gone off to mingle and didn’t want to interrupt whatever socially-strengthening experience she was having right now. Just because you were incapable of holding a casual conversation with others doesn’t mean you had the right to hold her back from doing so. You were already enough baggage as it was.

So you sigh, throwing yourself back onto the couch you had found in a dark corner. You hoped no one else happened to stumble upon it in the time it took Margo to come back.

Time ticked by torturously by. You watched a game of beer pong going on in front of you and laughed along to some of the stupidities the dares these kids had come up with. Somewhere nearby, a clearly not-sober girl had begun a striptease to the tune of “Partition” by Beyoncé. Guys hollered and you gasped, about to go save the poor girl’s dignity before another girl quickly steps in and takes the girl off the table, giving her her shirt back and using it to cover her as she tugged her away.

So there you are, bored out of your fucking mind, playing random games on your phone and trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It's been twenty minutes already when you feel the spot on the couch next to you sink.

Looking over, you raise a brow at who’s decided to sit next to you. He smiles that well-known charming smile of his and you suddenly realize why every girl in your school is in love with him.

“Hey,” James greets you warmly.

James McDaniels. Typical fuckboy. Hot as hell, dangerously charming and your town’s resident golden boy. The son of some big CEO who’d moved from another town down south, everyone believes he’ll make it to play football professionally.

But that’s beside the point. Why was the most attractive/popular guy in school talking to...you?

“Um...hi?” Rather than a greeting, you sound like you’re questioning yourself. You don’t wait for him to respond before you turn your attention back to your phone.

“Want a drink?” he draws your attention back to him, offering you a red solo cup.

You look at the cup then slowly trail your eyes from his hand to his -quite honestly- muscular arm to his handsome face which is pleasantly curved into an eye-blindingly sexy smile.

Immediately, your defenses go up and you shake your head disinterestedly. “No thank you. I don’t take drinks from strangers.”

He chuckles lightly, clicking his tongue. “I didn’t spike it if that’s what you’re thinking. Not that kind of guy, princess.”

His voice is incredibly attractive. Raspy and smooth and he has the hint of a southern accent which somehow makes it all the more attractive.

You finally look at him, putting our phone away in your clutch.

James McDaniels is not your type at all. He’s not dumb per se, but he’s not exactly an intellectual either.

And most importantly, he’s not Mr. Evans...

His eyes were a pretty hazel but they weren’t that gorgeous baby blue that occasionally turned into a deep aqua blue you loved so much. His hair was a dark brown, not a light dirty blonde you always have the urge to run your fingers through. His face was freshly-shaven and didn’t have the hints of a beard you utterly loved scratching your face. And his lips were nice, but they weren't Mr. Evans’s lips.

The thoughts infuriate you. Why are you still thinking about Mr. Evans, Y/n? That was a one-time thing and it was never even meant to happen. It’ll never happen again anyways. He’ll never be able to be with you in the real world. Wake up.

Shocking even yourself, you take the cup from James’s hand with a small smile. “Thanks.” And then you throw it back, drinking its contents in one go.

Immediately, you start coughing erratically, the alcohol burning your throat intensely. James laughs, patting your back lightly.

“Not used to drinking, I assume?”

You smile lightly at him, wiping your mouth. “Nope.” You frown. “What was that?”

He shrugs, downing his own drink easily. He crushes the cup in his hand and throws it over his shoulder. “Vodka maybe? Who even cares? It’s good, right?”

You find yourself smiling lightly, nodding along. “Yep.”

He smirks mischievously. “Wanna get more?”

You nibble on your lip, considering the offer lightly. It sounds fucked up, but for a few seconds, you were able to forget about Mr. Evans and the torture of not being able to ever really have him. You felt...good. Numb. So nothing, really. But that still was better than feeling the pain. You wanted to feel like that forever.

Plus, James McDaniels didn’t seem like bad company. You’d be cautious anyways.

You smirk at him. “Yes, please.”

Needless to say, as someone not used to drinking at all, your body did not grow accustomed to the alcohol that was constantly flowing into it fast enough whatsoever.

It started out casual, but over time you’d become less and less defensive about the drinking, simply craving the feeling the alcohol gave you. The freedom from the memory of Mr. Evan’s lips on yours it offered you.

You were a lightweight and before you knew it, you were drunk.

Everything felt so much better when you didn’t feel like yourself. Even James, who you had no particular interest in became much more interesting with the alcohol.

He was nice and flirty and over the time you’d spent conversing, he’d slowly moved in closer to you, expressing his interest in you with little brushes on your shoulder and face and legs...

You barely noticed, too lost in the euphoric feeling of the alcohol currently coursing through your system. Your muscles were loose and your smile came easy and you’d never felt so careless and free.

Margo never really made her way back to you but you were too buzzed to give a shit.

“So I fell off the fucking bleachers and landed on my ass,” James finishes his story and you can’t help but snort, quickly falling into a fit of giggles thereafter.

You don’t even know why you’re laughing so much, it’s not even that funny but you can’t help it.

You calm down enough to ask, “oh my God, you really let that tiny guy shove you like that? For a girl?”

He shrugs with a soft smile, caressing your arm softly then looking into your eyes sincerely. “For the right girl, yeah. Sure princess.”

You can’t help but scoff, downing your tenth to eleventh vodka shot of the night.

“What?” James chuckles a bit confusedly.

You look at him with a grin. “Nothing, it’s just...you’re good.”

He raises a brow. “Good?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah. Dangerously good. I mean c’ mon! ‘For the right girl, sure’?!” You huff. “That has got to be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard!”

He smiles in a cute sheepish way that you suspect might also be rehearsed.

“Did it work at least?”

Feeling strangely bold, you smile flirtingly at him, slowly leaning in close enough to have your lips brush slightly. Your chest pressed against his, your finger makes a small trajectory from the sharp line of his jaw to his neck, chest, abs then lower... lower... it stops just above his belt.

You bite your lip seductively, looking into his eyes from underneath your lashes.

“Hm...” you hum softly, watching as his breath falters and his pupils dilate with desire. His lips part and his lids drop halfway.

“No.”

You lean back with a smug smirk on your face, almost bursting into uncontrollable laughter at the look in his face. He looked so disappointed. Your humor grows uneasy, though, when you think you think you see a pissed look flash across his face. It’s gone just as fast as it came and you wondered if you were imagining it when he laughs loudly along with you.

Shaking your head, you get up, slightly wobbling on your own two legs. You giggle at this.

“Where are you going?” James frowns up at you.

You smirk. “Calm down, dad. I'm going to piss, I’ll be back.”

You spin on your heels, almost tripping in the process and make your way to the back patio in an utterly clumsy manner. Truth be told, you just needed to breathe a little. All those people pushing up on you was suffocating. The heat was unbearable.

Stumbling your way outside, you take notice that the place was practically empty and sigh in relief. Silently, you take your phone out of your clutch. Typing quickly, you press Margo’s contact and write her a text message.

To: Bestie❤

Hey, where the hell are you? You better not be drunk cuz I’m hammered and you’re our driver.

You laugh stupidly at the text and it only takes a few seconds before she answers.

From: Bestie❤

Shit. I tried calling you, Y/n! After we got separated I was pulled off to talk and a few minutes later I got a call from my mom that there was a family emergency I had to leave for. I tried looking for you too, but you were nowhere to be found so I assumed you’d left.

I’m soooo sorry, babe!

You frown down at your phone. Crap.

“Shit!” You curse into the cool night but before you know what’s happening, the alcohol seeps into your brain, dismissing any coherent thought you could have. Soon, you find yourself shrugging dismissively and going back into your contacts in search of someone to call to come to pick you up.

“Dad? No, he does not know I’m here and we’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much,” you mumble to yourself. The rest of your contacts are Margo and fast food services and restaurants.

“Should I call Dylan from Dominoes to come to pick me up?” You snort at your own little joke feeling careless as shit. “Hm...it’s times like these I wish I had more friends.” You sigh, about to give up on when you suddenly stumble across an unexpected contact name.

“Mr. Evans? When did I get his number?” You let out a small confused sound then smirk mischievously, a dumb idea suddenly popping up in your brain.

“Hm, doesn’t matter either way. I can have some fun with this.” You squeal excitedly and without a second thought, press on the contact name and put the phone to your ear, biting your lip to hold back the excitement equivalent to that of a five-year-old child on Christmas morning.

The plan was no plan, really. You just had a sudden urge to call him. To hear him. You felt so brave doing this.

It takes three full rings before he answers, his voice raspy and sexy with sleep.

“Hello?”

You can’t help but laugh, biting your lip even harder to suppress an inexplicable enthusiasm within you.

“What the-” you hear shifting for a second and assume it’s him moving the phone away from his face before he puts it back on, his voice suddenly more alert. “Y/n? What the hell is going on? It’s two in the morn-”

“You’re hot,” you impulsively blurt, immediately covering your mouth afterward.

“What?” You can hear him moving around as you giggle.

“You are. Like, stupid hot. You’re like out-of-this-world hot. I mean, you must know that right? Someone that looks like you do has to know they’re stupidly attractive, no?”

“Wh-”

“And you’re smart. Oh! A-and kind. Actually, you might be the kindest human being I know. It’s kind of funny actually. You are the one person I want to hate the most. But you’re literally impossible to hate.” You giggle. “Impossi-bleh. Ha. That’s a funny word. Impossi-bleh.”

“Y/n, are you drunk?”

You ignore his question, babbling off with a slur in your words. “It’s not fair you know? How can one person be so perfect? And why does that same person happen to be the only one I want but can’t be with?” Your voice grows softer towards the end, cautiously tender.

He doesn’t respond at first so you continue, your voice strained with pain and utter desperation. “A-and why did you have to kiss me? That just ruined everything, ya’ know!? I was fine with having a stupid crush on my stupid English teacher because I was convinced it’d go away. But then-” you swallow the sudden and painful lump in your throat. “B-but then you kissed me, and that just ruined fucking everything!” You whine like a little girl.

He sighs dejectedly over the phone. “Where are you, sweetheart? I’ll come to get you.”

You laugh humorlessly, your mood abruptly turning sour. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about! Here I am telling you I literally hate how fucking perfect you are and here you are, saying shit like that and being all concerned for my wellbeing.”

He sighs exasperatedly. “Sweetheart-”

“Stop calling me that!” You find yourself screaming hysterically into the phone, your grip on it tightening before you speak again. “You can’t call me that and assume it means nothing.”

“Okay, okay. Y/n,” he corrects himself gently. “Can you just tell me where you are so I can come to get you?”

You huff into the phone. “James is nice, you know? And cute. And he likes touching me a lot. I don’t really like it, but he brings me drinks so I guess it’s okay.” You giggle, shrugging and disregarding the fact that no one could see you.

“Oh no,” he mumbles worriedly. “Y/n can you please just tell me where you’re-”

“Anyways,” you cut him off. “I’m going to go back to drinking and forgetting about your stupid lips now Mr. Evans. Bye!”

“No! Y-” He tries to protest but doesn’t get to finish before you end the call, heading back inside with a small smile on your face.

That’ll show him, you think triumphantly.

Once you’ve made your way clumsily back inside, a red plastic solo cup is already waiting for you. You grin, walking over and sitting next to James excitedly.

He smiles lazily and swiftly moves his hand to rest on your knee.

You paid it no mind, opting instead to squeal as “Toxic” by Britney Spears came on.

“I love this song!” You grin excitedly.

James gets up, offering you his hand and motioning to the dance floor where a bunch of people were already dancing.

He smirks. “Would you give me the absolute pleasure of letting me take you out to dance, princess?”

You giggle softly, shaking your head. “Oh. I can’t dance.”

He raises his brows. “I can’t either.”

You laugh a bit and reluctantly place your hand in his. “Fine.”

He pulls you to him, placing a hand dangerously close to your butt and leading you to the dance floor.

Immediately, you’re squished together with James, the bodies of sweaty drunk teens sliding up next to you. Usually, you’d be gagging with disgust, but you just didn’t care right now.

James wraps his hands around your waist, pushing your hips to move. You look up at him weirdly for a second but your mind is far too fuzzy to even care about what he’s making you do, so you begin to dance as he instructs.

The music was far too irresistible to your intoxicated ears and you couldn’t hold back from moving your hips along to the beat, letting your hair be free in its movement.

It doesn’t take long and frankly, you barely notice when you spin around and begin grinding on James, brushing your ass against his crotch and kissing his neck teasingly light.

He pulls you close to him, thick arm wrapped tightly around your waist and hips still moving against you.

“I knew behind all that good girl act you put up you’re actually a freak in the sheets, princess,” he rasps sultrily in your ear.

Something about that doesn’t rub you right, even in your drunk state and you immediately cease your movements, looking up at him. “Let me go, please. I’d like to sit down.”

He frowns. “What? Why? We were having such a good time, princess. I like you and I know you like me.” He leans down, kissing your neck softly.

You don’t like the feeling and immediately shove him away, stumbling back on your unstable legs and heels. “What the hell makes you think that?” You snap drunkenly.

He laughs incredulously, reaching out for you again. “Uh, maybe the fact that you were practically flirting with me the entire night?”

You purse your lips, recognizing how that might’ve looked on your behalf. It’s just...you’d never really felt powerful and sexy and the alcohol gave you the courage you’d never had otherwise to express your sexuality.

You were still sticking to your plan though. And giving your virginity to a guy like James McDaniels was not your plan.

“Hey, James. I’m really sorry if I g-gave you any reason to believe this was going to go any further than what just happened.”

You struggle to stand upright and suddenly it occurs to you that James didn’t look all that drunk despite having been bringing you drinks all night.

“I-I think I’m just gonna go.” You point shakily over your shoulder, unable to keep from laughing at the stupidity of, well, you.

At that moment, the same pissed off look you thought you’d been imagining before comes onto James’s face again, and this time it doesn’t leave.

“The hell you are, you big tease. You’re were the one who started this. And now you’re going to finish it,” he growls, gripping your wrist tightly, his fingers digging into your skin and making it abundantly clear he didn’t plan on letting you go.

You immediately tug at your wrist, shaking your head firmly. “Let me go, James.”

He grins darkly. “No can do, princess. You got me all ready for action and now you’re going to come through whether you like it or not.”

And just like that, he starts dragging you away toward the staircase where the bedrooms were situated, you assume.

An uneasy feeling grips your gut painfully tight. He looks like he means it.

“James! I’m serious, let me go!” You tug harder to no avail as his nails dig deeper into the skin of your wrist. You yelp in pain. “Someone help!” No one seems to even notice you, too lost in their little worlds. Your panic intensifies and your heart starts racing at an erratic pace. “Please James, let go of me!” He spins around in a fit, gripping your jaw bruisingly tight.

Panic takes over your mind, but you’re weak in your intoxicated state and not a match for the football player’s strength.

“Listen, slut, either you shut your trap or it’ll be worse for you. That’s a promise.” He roughly shoves your face back.

But he doesn’t get a chance to spin back around and tug you into your worst nightmare before a fist comes crashing down into his jaw.

James groans in pain at the powerful attack, falling on his back with a hard crack.

You gasp, holding a horrified hand to your mouth as the figure, who you now realize is wearing a dark hoodie and sunglasses hiding his identity, straddles James and begins punching the living hell out of him.

Fist after fist strikes the harasser in the face, painful groans and yelps leaving his mouth whilst your aggressive savior only lets out breathy grunts and under-his-breath mumbles when his fists make contact with James’s face.

And although you were thankful to have been saved, blood was spraying on your legs and you knew if this continued, he’d kill him.

James begins picking himself up, though, landing some blows of his own. The stranger barely grunts in pain upon impact, his blows to James becoming twice as powerful as before and pummelling his fists down on him.

People quickly gather around you three, creating a huge crowd of people recording the fight and a string of “oohs” from multiple of them. No one steps in to stop them from killing eachother though.

Suddenly feeling sober, you jump in, gripping the stranger’s bicep tightly in your small hands. “Hey! Hey, stop! Stop it! That’s enough!”

At the sound of your voice, the stranger instantly stops the assault and gets up, gripping your arm firmly without a word. The grip was not enough to hurt you, but enough to easily sweep you out of the house, past the probing crowd and down the front lawn.

You stumble along in your heels, still trying to make sense of everything that just happened.

“Hey!” You scream at him. “Where- ah!”

But before your still-buzzed mind can place exactly what it is that’s happening, the man is picking you up bridal style.

You squeak a little, wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself.

“What the hell, dude!? You just saved me from a scum-bag and now you’re-”

“Damn it, sweetheart. We need to get out of here!”

You freeze. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Mr. Evans?” you breathe.

Read Chapter Eight Here!!

***

Hehehe... Told ya’ shit was gonna go down this chapter...

A Special Thanks To: ( I apologize for those of you I said I’d tag, but didn’t. I’m bad at keeping track of things. So please if you’re not here when I said you’d be, let me know!)

@bombsandsparkles

@meowsekai

@godohammers

@sp2900

@multifandom-foreverx

@missbosstown

@supernaturalyloki

@jungkooksbowlingskills

@spettrocoli

@woodworthti666

@tshollandlove

@weirdvishy

@buckysrcse

@doritoevansxwinterschildren

@superwholockwannabe

@emmiejames

@rissamonique97

@zofty15

@sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack

@sydneynix8305

@badkatthings

@pinnedandneedled

@taliarosej00

@lowkey-love-loki

@tomoyaevaans

@dontstopfreddienow

@notbexmader

@celestiial-angel

@primavera-nymph

@littlecherrydoll

@panic-naran

@chljmntgy

@phanmatch

@moonlightimagination

@cap-just-said-language

@covergirl122

And of course my forevers!

@jessikared97

@sherlockedtash88

@lilypalmer1987

@mogaruke

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans au #chris evans imagine

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