#looking pretty mr evans
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[13.2k] the chalet was your home away from home in the festive season. but this year it may become the place you fall in love with the last person you expected. ft my very limited knowledge on how skiing works. (very lazy smut included)
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Your family had always gone to The Chalet with the Montgomery’s for as long as you could remember.
One spontaneous ski trip decades ago led your parents to start a tradition that would last through the generations. Every year, both families would fly out to the mountains of France to enjoy the festive season in the homely ski resort called The Chalet. Owned and ran by an elderly couple, it was the kind of place you would see in hallmark movies, or maybe even in a snowglobe. It was a place beyond your greatest winter wonderland dreams and imagination. The Chalet didn’t feel like a real place, and that was why the getaway every Christmas made the holiday so magical.
It was your home away from home, a safe haven. It was the one place in the world where you could disappear from reality and embrace the isolation from society.
At least, that was what the three weeks in the ski resort usually felt like.
And after a year of moving away from home, starting a new job at the bottom of the food chain and dealing with more social circle drama than you ever intended to deal with, you craved nothing more than the simplicity and enjoyment The Chalet had to offer. You needed the break away from your life, a break away from the life you weren’t totally sure you had under control.
You just wanted your home away from home, and instead when the families arrived at the resort, you were met with crowds of strangers swarming the place like a colony of buzzing, irritating bees.
“What the hell?” You muttered once you had stepped out of the car, looking at the throng of people lingering outside the main entrance to the resort.
“Apparently the place is booked out,” your mother noted from somewhere behind you as they began to unpack the bags from the boot of the car. “Madame Blanchet reserved our usual rooms when she started getting more and more bookings.”
“Since when was this place overbooked?” You commented, a little blunter than intended. But it was hard to mask your surprise. A part of The Chalet’s charm was that it was a small, unknown ski resort hidden amongst the many that were established in the French Mountains. For as long as you could remember—hell, even before that—there hadn’t been more than ten or so families staying at the resort over the Christmas period.
“Maybe Madame Blanchet finally learnt how to make a website,” a voice remarked from beside you, sounding quite amused by the mass of people, which shouldn’t have really surprised you.
And just like you expected, you turned your head to find Harper Montgomery grinning widely at the crazy crowd like she was expecting it. She stood beside you with her hands on her hips, something about the bright ski suit looking so out of place, not that she acted as much. Every year, you swore The Chalet wasn’t ready for her and every year you were proven correct.
“Considering the woman still has a dial phone, I am going to doubt the sudden online advertisement,” you snorted, shaking your head.
“Maybe this will be the Christmas we make new friends,” Harper noted, her head tilted to the side and her dark eyes scanning the crowd. “I am pretty sick of Mrs Hartford beating me at scrabble.”
Your lips twitched upwards. “Maybe you should stop challenging her then.”
Harper’s eyes narrowed. “Never.”
“I still don’t get why so many people are waiting outside,” you grumbled as your eyes fell back to the crowd, noticing the way they were buzzing with some sort of excitement. “I don’t even think the lodge has enough rooms for this many people.”
Harper hummed. “Maybe—”
“OH MY GOD!”
Your eyes widened in alarm as you turned your head, seeing Evan standing a few feet away from you and Harper. The older Montgomery was gripping his phone, eyes full of adoration and awe as he grinned at his screen like a madman. He let out a high-pitched squeak, catching the attention of both families as they looked at him with varying looks of concern.
The blond finally lifted his head, oblivious to the worried looks as his grin seemingly widened. He thrusted a phone towards you and Harper, almost buzzing in his spot. “He’s here!”
Your brows furrowed together. “What?”
“He’s here!” Evan repeated, just as enthusiastic as the first time. “He is in our ski lodge! He’s here!”
You still looked equally confused. “Who?”
“His little man-crush,” Harper noted as she glanced down at his screen.
“Charles Leclerc!” Evan sighed, almost dreamily as he hugged his phone to his chest. “We are spending Christmas with Charles Leclerc!”
You rolled your eyes and shook your head, pushing past the boy to grab your suitcase so you could finally go check in. “For fuck’s sake, not your little driving guy.”
“Hey,” Evan frowned. “He’s more than that.”
“I have to listen to you talk about him for nine months of the year,” you remarked, though even that felt like an understatement. “Christmas is meant to be my free time from your little obsession. We made a deal.”
Evan blanched. “That was before I knew he was here!”
“And now he’s ruining Christmas,” you grumbled bitterly, letting out a wince when you felt a pinch to your side.
“Don’t be such a grinch,” Harper teased. “Let him be a fanboy and spend his days on the slopes hunting the guy down. Don’t let it ruin your holiday.”
You snorted. “That will be hard when he is talking our ears off about Charles’ pretty green eyes or the way his hair looks after a race.”
“It’s fluffy!” Evan defended. “It’s unreal after a two hour race in a helmet!”
“Whatever,” you muttered as you patted the boy on the chest as you moved past him. “You have him all to yourself, you won’t see me complaining about it.”
Evan puffed his chest out. “You just can’t appreciate greatness.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” you waved him off. “I’m here to ski and relax. As long as this Charles guy keeps you and his little fanbase far away from me, I don’t care what he does.” There was a pause and Harper gave you a questioning look when she saw the glint in your eyes. “Even if he is overrated.”
Evan’s jaw dropped. “You did not just—”
“Last one in is a rotten egg!” You called out behind you as you grabbed Harper’s hand, dragging her towards the main entrance with you and letting your laughs echo through the reception as the boy swore up and down behind you.
…
You could have said that your resentment towards the Ferrari driver was purely based on how much Evan spoke about him during the racing season, but that would be a lie.
It had started off that way when the boy finally made it into Formula One. Evan had been a motorsport fanatic from a young age, always eager to ramble away to you and Harper on various championships and seasons neither of you particularly cared about. As you got older, you learned to become more accepting and tolerant of the fact your Sundays would always be hijacked by whatever grand prix was occurring that weekend.
However, when a young hot shot joined the sport that Evan had been following through the lower leagues, you didn’t realise just how quickly that tolerance would disappear until he was yapping your ear off after every single race.
And truthfully? You didn’t get it. You didn’t get the sport in general, you didn’t understand what made a driver good or bad, and you didn’t understand the world’s obsession with Charles Leclerc as the years passed. To you, he just seemed like a pretty boy who enjoyed the spotlight of being the face of the sport. To you, he seemed like nothing more than a show pony.
And no amount of debates and rants from Evan would change that.
You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to say you hate Charles Leclerc, but you would say you were coming pretty damn close since you arrived at The Chalet.
The Chalet was bustling from the moment you opened your eyes to the moment you fell asleep. Wherever you went, it felt like you were pushing through a crowd to get from point A to point B. And the amount of times you had fans gripping your arm as you walked past, asking you if you had seen the Monegasque driver was starting to make you want to rip your own hair out.
Yet, despite the buzz around the driver being in the lodge and the amount of fans circling the place through various hours of the day, you had yet to see the boy himself and that was something you were perfectly content with.
You had managed two blissful days before you crossed paths with Charles Leclerc.
You had been taking too long to get ready so you assured Harper and Evan you would meet them at the slopes, insisting there was no need for them to wait for you. Both Montgomery’s—stubborn as ever—scoffed and told you they would be waiting for you in the lobby instead.
You had been in a rushed state when you made your way towards the equipment valet, eager to just quickly hand your locker number over and collect your equipment. However, your path seemed to be blocked by a man standing in front of you, nose buried in his phone as he muttered in a language you didn’t quite understand.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I just—”
“Fucking hell,” the man swore, causing you to pause and frown at his back.
You were taken aback, not expecting that response or the scoff that left his lips afterwards. And when he turned around, you were even more shocked when you realised you knew exactly who the rude man was—none other than Charles Leclerc.
“Look, I appreciate that you are a devoted fan and I am grateful for the support, but I really don’t have time for pictures right now,” Charles continued and, to his credit, did look a little empathetic. Though, that didn’t take away from the underlying hostility in his words. “I am just here to enjoy my break. Please let me do so in peace.”
You blinked, absolutely flabbergasted by his assumption. “Huh?”
The smile he gave you was almost condescending. “As a fan, I am sure you’d understand that I’d want a few days just free from the media and—”
And it seemed like only then did your brain catch up with the situation.
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, I am not a fan,” you stated as bluntly as you could, watching the boy’s face morph into something quite like confusion. As though he genuinely couldn’t compute the fact somebody wasn’t a fan of him.
“What?”
“I was just trying to get my skis and you were standing in my way like a douche,” you said simply, watching as his brows furrowed closer together. “Which I would have felt bad for calling you before I realised who you were.”
“Who I was,” Charles repeated, still baffled as you pushed past him to do just as you said.
“Hot shot who thinks everybody who breathes near him cares about who he is,” you supplied, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you now stood before him with your skis in hand. “Have a great day, Charles Leclerc.”
And the boy didn’t get a chance to say anything as you walked away, your mood positively ruined by the time you reached Evan and Harper in the lobby. They took one look at your sour mood and raised their brows in question, but you simply grumbled and waved them off, in no mood to repeat your interaction to Charles’ biggest sympathiser.
Fortunately for the Montgomery siblings, your mood eased up by lunchtime and you were (mostly) over the whole interaction.
…
Or at least, you were over the interaction until dinner came around.
Dinner at The Chalet was like one massive family meal. With a large hall dedicated as the dining area, the Blanchet’s had set it up quite like a buffet system. There were tables of food bordering the room with tables dotted through the middle. Everyone sat on the round tables, in their little families and looking like a picture perfect scene for the final meal of the day.
So of course your final meal of the day had to be ruined by an arrogant Monegasque who grinned at you like you two were old friends.
“Ah, you! I’ve been looking for you.”
Truthfully, you wouldn’t have even realised he was talking to you if it weren’t for the fact the boy had stopped right beside you, practically looming over your shoulder as you tried to help yourself to some macaroni cheese.
You raised your brows, giving the boy a once-over before returning your attention to your plate.
“Uh, hello,” Charles tried again, his brows furrowing together a little at the cold shoulder you gave him.
“Hi,” you stated simply, not wanting to spend any more moments with the Monegasque than you had to.
“I wanted to apologise for earlier,” Charles continued, seeing your response as an open invite to a conversation.
“Do you now?”
“Yeah,” Charles nodded, a smile making its way onto his face as your sarcastic tone went completely over his head. “Listen, I really didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—this is my holiday and I had no intention of my location being leaked. I just wanted a break from everything, you know? And I guess the frustrations of being bombarded for the last few days just got to me.”
And truthfully speaking, a part of you sympathised with the boy. Though his fame reached levels you would never understand, The Chalet was your haven away from everything. It was a place where reality never seemed to touch, a place to escape. You could understand better than anyone what it was like to crave that feeling in your life.
But just as you opened your mouth to say as much, Charles seemed to remind you exactly why you disliked him in the first place.
“And I just wanted to clear things up with you before the media found out and—”
“So, you’re only apologising because you don’t want me running to journalists and ruining your image?” You interrupted, catching the boy off-guard as he gaped at you for a few seconds.
“Well, yes, it wouldn’t look good if I was harassing fans,” Charles said.
“But I’m not a fan,” you corrected him, gripping your plate in your hands. “And I certainly don’t care about shattering someone’s image for fifteen seconds of fame, no matter how much of a douche they are.”
Charles frowned. “I—”
“You can take your apology and shove it up your ass, Charles,” you said, that sickly sweet smile on your face once again as you turned around to find whichever table your family were sitting at. But a hand reached out to softly grip your elbow and you turned to find Charles looking at you with a helpless expression.
“I am sorry,” Charles said to you, something in his voice that you didn’t really understand. “But I also care about my image. Surely you can understand that.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you retorted as you tried to tug yourself free from his hold.
Charles opened his mouth to reply, but a louder voice caught the attention of both of you.
“STORMY! OVER HERE!”
You felt your face heat up as you glanced over your shoulder, finding Evan sat amongst your family and his own as he waved you down. He had a shit-eating grin on his face (most likely from the fact he used the one nickname that he knew pissed you off more than anything else in front of everyone) and looked like he was about to do more when his gaze shifted to the man beside you. His jaw dropped, a comical expression on his face as he looked between you and Charles Leclerc.
“Stormy?” Charles repeated, looking over at you.
You ignored his questioning gaze, instead narrowing your eyes at the hand still gripping your elbow. “Can you let me go now or is there more to your shitty apology?”
Charles opened his mouth once again, yet another person interrupted him before he got a chance.
“Charles? What’s taking you so long?”
Your eyes wandered to the girl who saddled up beside him, her expression light until she turned to look at you. Her gaze was calculated, her blue eyes seeming to size you up and something about the all white attire made you wonder if she was really playing into the Ice Queen vibes.
“Another fan?” She sighed, as though your presence was the biggest inconvenience to her. “Honey, he can take pictures with you after dinner—”
“That’s fine, we’re done here,” you quickly corrected, ignoring the patronising tone in her voice or the way that Charles still looked like he had more to say. “I won’t be bothering either of you anytime soon.”
You turned on your heels before either one of them had a chance to drag out the interaction any longer than it needed it to be. You weaved through the tables before making your way towards the table your family had chosen, settling yourself in the free seat beside Evan.
“That was Charles Leclerc!”
You hummed, grabbing your fork as you began to dig in. “Unfortunately so.”
“Dude, what the hell!” Evan hissed, pinching your side until you let out a small squeak and turned to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”
You frowned. “I don’t.”
“You were talking to him for ages!” Evan countered.
“He was just being a dick,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Plus, that was probably the last time I’ll ever talk to him.”
Harper snorted. “And you didn’t even get him an autograph.”
“Not that I would ask,” you prefaced before shaking your head. “But I doubt he would have given me one anyways. We…got off on the wrong foot.”
“It’s Charles Leclerc,” Evan scoffed. “There is no wrong foot.”
“Keep it in your pants, dickhead,” you teased, lightly pinching his side back in retaliation. “Even if I did get you an autograph, I would have shredded it after the Stormy stunt you just pulled.”
“But that’s your name,” Evan grinned.
“No, it’s what you called me for seven years because you couldn’t remember my name,” you retorted.
“No, he remembered,” Harper piped in, a grin on her face that scarily matched her brother’s. “But with a temper like yours, Stormy just fits so much better.”
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. You both suck and so does Charles Leclerc.”
“At least wait until dessert before you start insulting Evan’s boyfriend in front of him.”
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
…
You had expected that was the last time your path would ever cross with Charles Leclerc and, for the most part, it was.
A few days passed and other than some awkward shared glances in the dining hall, you hadn’t found yourself caught in a conversation with the Ferrari driver after his attempted apology and you were intending to keep it that way until the end of your trip. You were happy to continue on with your holiday, even if you swore you could feel a pair of eyes watching you sometimes.
However, it seemed like the universe was on a mission to get your hopes up before crumbling them back down again—and this time, it was in the form of another involuntary meeting with the Monegasque.
You hadn’t even noticed the boy standing a few feet away from you with a group of his friends. You were stood next to Harper, listening to her ramble away as you waited in line for the ski lift to take you to the top of the mountain. It was fairly early, most of the resort residents still enjoying their breakfast inside which meant the queue wasn’t very long. You had been eager to get out on the snow early after being one of the last in the passing days.
However, whilst you failed to notice the driver, it seemed like Harper had.
She watched the boy continuously glance over at you, like he was eager to catch your eye. She watched as he slowly shuffled closer, like he was trying to gain the confidence to jump into the conversation. She watched Charles Leclerc act like a hopeless fool, and it was somewhat endearing to witness.
And maybe—just maybe—she was in the mood for some drama that the vacation in the ski resort very rarely gave her.
You were already settled in your spot when you felt someone shuffling in the seat next to you. You felt the comfort bar come down and you turned with a smile, ready to continue your conversation with your best friend when you realised your best friend was not the person sitting next to you.
No, it was Charles Leclerc.
Your head whirled around, finding Harper standing in the queue with a grin on her face. You shot her a look, one that spoke more than a thousand words on just how you felt about her betrayal. However, the girl just laughed and waved you off as the lift began moving and it was far too late to get off.
Your attention shifted to the boy beside you again, noticing the sheepish expression on his face and you let out a sigh.
It was fine. Totally fine. The ski lift took around ten minutes to get to the top of the mountain. That was hardly anything, practically a blink of an eye if you were being honest. It would be a quick ride up, you wouldn’t even have to talk to him and you could easily ignore him by the time you made your way back down the mountain. It was all going to be so, so fine.
“So, uh, how are you this morning?”
And suddenly, even a second felt like ten years passing.
You kept your head facing forward, hoping the boy would catch the hint that you weren’t interested in small talk and would also remain silent. Though, considering the fact he was fidgeting in his seat, you doubted the boy could keep quiet for longer than thirty seconds.
“The weather is great, right?”
Your brows furrowed together. The weather? Really?
“The pancakes were also really good at breakfast this morning. Did you have any?” He continued, only pausing for a moment when he realised you were making a point of not answering him. “Stormy?”
One simple word and that was enough for you to break your silence.
“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, a little harsher than you truly intended but the sentiment remained.
Charles blinked. “You don’t want me to call you your name?”
“It’s not my name,” you replied.
He blinked again. “But in the dining hall—”
“It’s a nickname—one that Evan likes to wind me up with because he thinks I’m moody,” you explained before realising the boy didn’t really deserve an explanation. Not when you were adamant to keep this conversation short. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Well, I can see where he gets it from,” Charles said with a small snort.
You frowned. “Excuse me?”
Seeming to realise what he said and just how it sounded out loud, it was almost comical to watch Charles’ lips part before he awkwardly gaped at his previous comment. “Not like that! I just meant—”
“Whatever,” you muttered as you turned to face forwards again, pleading for the lift to somehow reach the top of the mountain already.
“Look, I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I intended this to go,” Charles admitted, almost sounding a bit pained when he said it, as though he wasn’t used to admitting he was wrong. “I wanted to properly apologise. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you, and I definitely shouldn’t have brushed it off as anything except how you felt.”
You paused, brows furrowing together as you turned to face him with a curious expression.
Charles blinked. “What?”
“I was just waiting to see if there was a ‘but’ coming,” you confessed.
“No buts,” he assured, pausing for a moment before his cheeks burned pink. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s it.”
You let out a sigh, wishing that some part of you was suspicious about his apology but you weren’t. He sounded genuine, and as much as you wanted to—and still partially did—believe he was a bit of a pompous prick, you couldn’t fault that his apology seemed sincere.
“I accept your apology,” you said, your voice a little strained before you continued. “And I’m also sorry for being a bit of a bitch.”
Charles’ lips parted. “Oh no, you weren’t—”
“I was a little,” you said, your lips twitching upwards as the boy gave you a nervous smile. “I can assure you I won’t be telling any gossip pages about what an asshole Charles Leclerc is.”
He actually laughed in response, despite the fact that alone would probably make his PR team bury him six feet under before the next season started. “I appreciate that, Stormy.”
You glowered at the nickname, but it only seemed to make the Monegasque laugh harder.
…
Despite the exchange of apologies on the ski lift, you expected that to be your last proper interaction with Charles.
You were also quickly realising that every time—so far—you had assumed as much, you would find yourself face to face with the driver once again. And this time was no different, except it came much earlier than a few days. It happened later that very same day.
You had made your way into the dining hall, grabbing a plate and beginning to survey the large buffet when you felt the warmth of another person standing beside you. You felt a hand brush your arm and turned to find Charles smiling at you.
“Bonjour, mon ami.”
You blinked. “What?”
His smile widened. “It means—”
“No, I know what it means,” you quickly corrected, shaking your head a little. “I just…didn’t realise we were friends.”
Charles’ brows furrowed together. “Why wouldn’t we be? I thought we had made up on the ski lift.”
“Yes but, other than that, we are strangers,” you said to him like it was obvious—and to you, it was. Beyond a few misunderstandings and awkward apologies, the man in front of you was as much a friend to you as any of the other guests in the lodge.
“Well, we can change that now!” He said, and that smile returned to his face. “Turn over a new book or whatever the saying is.”
Much to your own surprise, you found yourself laughing a little at his response. “Charles, I—”
“STORMY, HURRY UP OR I AM DRINKING YOUR WINE!”
Both your and Charles’ head snapped over to Evan who was holding a wine glass in each hand, a large smile plastered on his face and a twinkle in his eyes that promised mischief. His hair was still wet from the shower he took before dinner, meaning it was slick back and giving him an almost wannabe Bond villain look.
You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to look at the driver. Only you found Charles still looking in Evan’s direction, something contemplative and almost begrudging in his gaze.
“You okay?”
Charles turned to face you, and it took a mere second for the glare to disappear and be replaced with his bright smile once again. “Yeah, of course. It seems like you’re wanted elsewhere though.”
“He’s a menace,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes but the fondness was clear in your voice. “I love him even if he’s a pain in the ass.”
Charles only let out a contemplative hum as a goodbye as you headed towards the table where your family and the Montgomery’s were sitting. And maybe if you looked over at him as much as he did with you over the course of the dinner, you would have seen Charles looking a little too bitter every time your eyes were on Evan instead of him.
…
A week had passed in the resort and the Christmas spirit was starting to truly spread as the festive holiday quickly approached.
Your parents and the Montgomery parents had decided to pass on the slopes, instead choosing to visit infamous glacier caves that had been advertised and talked about by some locals in the lodge. You, Harper and Evan had declined the offer to join them, though the excitement of no parents being around—despite the fact all three of you were firmly in your twenties—seemed to spark a shift in energy in Evan that could only be described as childlike.
“I have a proposition.”
Harper already let out a groan, tilting her head back as she did. You couldn’t see her eyes beneath her goggles, but you imagined she was rolling them. “God, no.”
Evan frowned. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“Your ideas are shit,” Harper said to her brother. “And usually dangerous.”
“No, they aren’t,” Evan scoffed.
You shrugged. “You don’t have a great track record, if we are being honest.”
“Whatever,” Evan grumbled before grinning at the two of you. “First two to reach the bottom wins. Sabotaging each other’s run is allowed. Loser has to do the forfeit.”
Your eyes narrowed. “What’s the forfeit?”
“Loser has to streak in the snow,” he grinned.
“I am not streaking in the snow,” Harper scoffed.
“Then, you better hope you win,” the older Montgomery countered with a grin.
And begrudgingly, you and Harper agreed to his childish idea.
It wasn’t the first time a silly competition between the three of you got out of hand, and you truly doubted it would be the last. With no rules set and no parents to even try to intervene, it didn’t take very long before the competition got dirty and the run down the slopes became more chaotic.
You had been running behind Harper, secure in second place and watching her movements closely to look for any weakness that you could exploit. However, you had failed to realise that Evan—who had been running behind after he almost skied into a group of people—was quickly catching up on you.
You didn't realise until it was too late.
You let out a noise of surprise when you found the boy right by your side, one that quickly became a series of curses when you realised what he was doing. You tried to move away when you noticed him turning into you, but you were too slow and it only put you in a worse position when his pole lodged itself between your skis.
He was long gone by the time you tumbled into the snow, cackling loudly as he went. You let out a groan of frustration as you turned until you were lying on your back. You winced a little as you tried to awkwardly scramble up onto your feet in hopes of catching up with the Montgomery siblings, but the second a bit of pressure was placed on your ankle, you were crying out in pain and your ass hit the snow once again.
“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you sat in the snow, tears welling in your lash line at the shot of pain up your leg.
“Cherie!”
You lifted your head when you noticed someone skidding to a stop beside you. You blinked at them in a moment of confusion, but the second they removed their goggles and pulled down their mask, you found Charles—or at least, a very worried and concerned version of him—looking down at you.
He took you in, noticing the glossy sheen to your eyes before he turned back to look over his shoulder, letting out a string of curse words that you were certain were not in English before his attention returned to you.
“Are you okay? What hurts? Is something broken? Should I call for them to send a helicopter—”
“Charles,” you quickly interrupted the rambling boy. “I’m fine. I’ve probably just sprained my ankle.”
“Yeah, because of him,” Charles grumbled, mostly under his breath like he had no real intention for you to hear the snide remark.
“It was a joke,” you waved him off, but that only seemed to upset the boy further.
“A joke?” He repeated, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re hurt. It’s hardly a funny joke.”
“Charles, calm down.”
The boy just scoffed, shaking his head before he lodged his poles into the snow, keeping them off the main trail before he turned to you and offered his hand.
You looked at him expectantly.
“Let me help you get down to the lodge,” he said in as calm a voice as he could manage.
“Charles—” You began, but he wasn’t having it.
“No, cherie, I am not going to leave you here when you’re injured and alone,” he said, emphasising the last word in particular as he glanced around, almost like he had to remind you that Harper and Evan were most likely at the bottom of the slope by now.
“Fine,” you said with a sigh, taking his gloved hand in yours as you allowed him to pull you up, keeping your weight on him with ease. “This doesn’t mean we are friends though, Charles.”
He only grinned at you, the first time he seemed a little more like himself since he stopped to check on you.
“Whatever you want to say, Stormy.”
…
As expected, you had sprained your ankle and were advised to take it easy for the next few days.
And you were banned from hitting the slopes in fear of making the sprain worse.
You wanted to be annoyed about the situation—and a small part of you was—but honestly, a few days in the lodge with some peace and quiet seemed like a dream. As much as you loved your family and the Montgomery’s, you needed a break from how loud and giddy and excited they were.
And as the days quickly approached Christmas, it felt like a nice relief to have some time to yourself before the festivities truly took over.
You had waved them off after breakfast with a smile, teasing them not to miss you too much as they headed towards the slopes. Evan had offered to stay inside with you, even just for today, because of the guilt that he was the one to put you in the position. But you just rolled your eyes, assuring him you were more than happy to sit by the fireplace by the foyer and enjoy a day where you didn’t have to fall flat on your ass in the snow.
You had been a few chapters into your book, curled up on the couch with your ankle elevated on a pillow with a blanket thrown over you when Charles and his friends made their way downstairs, prepped and ready with the intentions of heading out to the slopes.
But the boy spotted you and found his feet moving in a different direction.
“Stormy!”
You lifted your head, unable to even find it in yourself to be annoyed by his constant use of the nickname when he had a pretty smile on his face whenever he said it. He was bundled up in layers, probably on his way to the equipment kiosk before he headed for the lift. He looked comical next to the fire.
“My knight in shining armour,” you greeted, a teasing tilt in your voice but the boy missed it as he took in your appearance. “You look warm.”
“You’re staying in today?”
You nodded. “Doc’s orders.”
“Alone?”
You nodded once again. “I told the others they could—”
“I’ll stay with you!”
He said it so quickly that it took you a few seconds before you realised just what he had said. You blinked, your brows furrowing in confusion. “You’re at a ski resort and you don’t want to go skiing?”
“I’ve been skiing every day since I got here,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I can handle not skiing for a day.”
You flashed him a smile. “It’s fine, you don’t have to—”
“But I want to,” he countered, the words passing his lips with ease.
You hated the way your chest tightened a little at his words. “Oh.”
Charles smiled at your response.
“Charles, hurry up!”
You missed the way his brows furrowed together at the voice when you turned to look at the woman standing a few feet away, looking impatient and slightly annoyed. It was the same woman from the other week, the one that looked a little too much like the cold weather personified. You had learnt over the passing days her name was Melanie, but that was about as far as your knowledge on the woman went, other than her clear attitude.
Charles let out a sigh before he replied, a slightly more strained smile on his face. “Go on without me. I’m gonna stay in the lodge today.”
Melanie frowned. “Why?”
“Because I want to,” Charles stated simply, and the repeated words made your chest feel funny again.
Melanie glanced over at you and then Charles, and then back to you again. Her eyes were narrowed and her glare felt icy, but before she could even think of saying anything, a friend from the group was calling out to her and she had no choice but to join them.
Charles turned back to you, an easy smile on his lips once again. “So…what’s the plan?”
You snorted. “To sit here because I’m practically bedbound, unless I want to hobble somewhere.”
Charles pressed his lips together. “Well, sitting by the fire with no hot chocolate is sacrilege.”
Your nose scrunched up. “But I don’t have cookies. Hot chocolate by itself isn’t fun without homemade Christmas cookies.”
“Then we will make them,” Charles said.
You rolled your eyes. “And where are we making them? In our rooms with a kettle, tap water and no other ingredients?”
“Please,” Charles said with a scoff, a glint in his eyes as he looked down at you with a proud glint in his eyes. “I am Charles Leclerc. I have my ways.”
You weren’t sure what strings he pulled, who he bribed or just what he blackmailed the lodge owners with, but you were filled with a sort of unease when Charles returned twenty minutes later. He had changed out of his heavy ski gear into a pair of jeans and a sweater that looked insanely cosy. And he had told you that he needed you to close your eyes, to trust him enough to carry you to the destination with a promise that all the drama would be worth it.
He looked so damn proud when he brought you to the lodge’s kitchen with bowls and whisks and ingredients sprawled across the counter—it made that funny feeling in your chest return.
“How did you manage this?” You asked, an incredulous laugh leaving your lips when he sat you on the counter.
“I’m Charles Leclerc, I can get anything I want,” he said, and once upon a time, you would have rolled your eyes and thought he was a pompous dick. You still thought he was a little cocky, but it was an endearing trait now.
You raised your brows. “Do you, Charles Leclerc, know how to bake?”
“Nope,” he said honestly but he was still smiling. “But I am sure I can make something edible with you guiding me.”
“Smooth,” you snorted. “Don’t blame me if they taste like shit.”
As it would turn out, Charles had an overbearing need to be in control of everything. You guessed it came with the lifestyle, the fact his life is always in the palm of his own hands whenever he sat in a car that raced hundreds of miles an hour. However, it seemed like it also extended to the Monegasque ignoring your very clear and correct instructions to do something he insisted was the right way.
“In what fucking world do you need that much sugar?” You remarked, lips parted in shock as you watched the boy add more.
“They are sugar cookies, cherie, it’s in the name,” Charles retorted.
“That doesn’t mean the batter should be seventy-five percent sugar!” You huffed as you reached over to try and grab the bag of sugar from him. “You are going to make us both diabetic with one of those damn cookies. Don’t you have a diet you are meant to be following?”
Charles only grinned, a little mischievous. “Yeah but it’s Christmas.”
You shook your head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re bossy,” he countered.
“And I’m right,” you insisted as you frowned at the batter, wondering if it would be easier to just toss it out and start again. “It’s not my fault you don’t have the ego to handle it.”
“Or your ego can’t handle the challenge,” Charles said, something shining in his eyes like his words had a hidden meaning you couldn’t quite understand. “Tell me you don’t like it.”
You tilted your head a little. “You think you’re the only man to talk back to me, Leclerc?”
His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “I would like to think I’m the best.”
You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes darkened, the way it seemed to surge some sort of competition inside him. You couldn’t help but want to play on his fragile male ego a little more.
“And if I said you weren’t?” You questioned, pressing your lips together in a poor attempt to hide your smirk.
Charles breathed out of his nose, his jaw clenching a little before he replied. “Then I would say Evan is a lucky man to have you.”
And just like that, your smirk dropped.
“What?”
Charles frowned a little. “I would say Evan is a lucky man,” he repeated, the words sounding a little forced as they left his lips. “You two seem like…a great match even if he does leave you abandoned on a ski slope after—”
“Oh my god, no!” You blanched, your shoulders hunching up to your ears as you shook your head. “Ew, no! Absolutely not!”
Charles blinked. “Huh?”
“Me and Evan—” You swallowed hard, unable to even get the words out. “It’s not like that between us. I have known him forever, he’s like a brother to me.”
“Oh,” Charles murmured, taking a few seconds before he grinned. “Oh!”
“Yeah, oh,” you grumbled.
Charles couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “So, you aren’t—”
“Nope.”
“With Evan or anyone?”
“No one.”
“Good.”
You snorted, rolling your eyes at the giddiness written across his face. If someone told you it was Christmas morning, you would have believed them. “Subtle, Charles.”
“Subtle is my middle name.”
…
The next day, you met Charles by the foyer fireplace, but this time he was prepared with his own book.
The day after, he was there again but both your books were quickly abandoned as you chatted away.
The day after that, neither of you bothered to bring your books down.
Despite your insistence that he should be out on the slopes enjoying his vacation and the downtime he had in between seasons, Charles was adamant that he was doing exactly what he deemed relaxing. And just like he said earlier, Charles Leclerc gets what he wants—and it seemed he wanted to spend his days huddled in the lodge with you.
Everyone noticed the budding relationship between you and Charles, but nobody said a word. Well, your family and the Montgomery parents didn’t say a word. Harper and Evan on the other hand? They wouldn’t leave you alone.
Harper was cackling at the irony. She was throwing your words back in your face, teasing the way seemed to switch your opinion on the Monegasque driver in the span of a week and looked down right smitten for the boy. She teased you over the fact it took you almost two months before you went on a date with your ex-boyfriend, and here you were having daily fireplace dates with the boy you called an asshole less than a week ago. She was embracing her full right as your best friend to annoy the fuck out of you.
Evan was a whole other story. The boy looked like a kicked puppy every time you came back from hanging out with Charles, only to tell him you didn’t get him an autograph nor did you bring into the conversation how cool he was or how amazing he was or how he and Charles would totally get on if you introduced them. You didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that up until seventy-two hours ago, Charles didn’t like him through a bizarre assumption.
It had been constant and annoying, but in a way that made your heart feel full because you knew no matter what, at least those two would support every decision you made. Even if they got unbearable during the meal times where Charles would find any excuse to come talk to you.
Tonight was no different as he approached you with a smile spread across his face and something dangerous and promising shining in his eyes. You were sitting at the table alone whilst everyone else headed towards the tables to fill their plates—yours in Harper’s hand—and you were grateful for the small moment of peace as he leaned down.
“Missing me already?” You teased.
He shrugged, though he didn’t disagree. “I have a very important message for you.”
You raised your brows in question. “Oh?”
Instead of saying anything, the boy just grinned wider and handed you a small piece of paper. You frowned a little at it, looking up at him in confusion but the boy was already taking a few steps away from your table.
“Charles—”
But the boy just winked before turning on his heel, heading back to the table the rest of his friends were sitting at, where they were probably watching the whole interaction even if they tried to make it seem like they weren’t.
You glanced down at the note in your hand, lips turned downwards as you opened the folded paper. It baffled you that he couldn’t just say what he had written down, but another part of you warmed a little at the idea that he had taken the time to write the note and go through with it—regardless of it being a bit silly.
You couldn’t bite back your smile when you read the note.
meet me @ midnight. my room number is 161. wear something cosy :)
You snorted, shaking your head as every cell in your body thrummed in excitement to meet the boy you once hated later that night.
…
“The note was cute, but I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just ask me to hang out.”
“Because that’s not fun.”
“You just handed me the note, that’s hardly any different.”
“It was like a real life text, cherie. It’s how they used to do it back in the day.”
You snorted in response.
You had listened to his advice, deciding that a hoodie and pyjama bottoms were the way to go as you snuck up to the floor he was staying at. Your knuckles had barely grazed the door before it was yanked open, a grinning boy on the other side. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie and grey sweatpants, his hair pushed back with a bandana and a pair of glasses sat on his nose.
He didn’t even give you a chance to say anything before he was dragging you inside.
It should have been obvious that Charles Leclerc of all people would have a suite but truthfully, you hadn’t even realised the lodge had master suites as big as this one. But it did. And it was huge. And you expected nothing less for the Monegasque.
There were multiple different rooms that veered off the large living room: one that was furnished with a massive tv, soft plush sofas and a large fireplace that looked like it was straight out the front of a Christmas card. Surprisingly, it was decorated for the festive season with even a tree settled in the corner between the armchairs. It felt homely. It felt perfect for this midnight meeting.
However, you didn’t get much of a chance to look around before he was dragging you out onto the balcony. There was a loveseat set up with pillows and blankets, and a small table set with hot chocolate and a plate of cookies (ones he assured you he had the chef make fresh).
“I never took you to be so traditional,” you teased, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders as a light breeze hit you. “But I guess you have to make do since you haven’t even asked for my number.”
Charles raised his brows. “Is that your subtle way of telling me to hurry up and ask for it?”
“Subtle is my middle name,” you retorted, his own repeated words thrown back in his face but they seemed to light a spark inside him.
Charles’ eyes dropped to your lips for a few passing beats before they returned to your eyes, and you saw everything written in them. This was different to the days you had spent down in the foyer. Everyone could see you both. You could see everyone. It was public and out in the open and exposed.
But here?
It was just you and him and the pretty night sky that shone and glittered with stars. You were away from the world, from reality. You were away from your family and friends. You were away from peering eyes and judgemental looks. You were in a bubble you never wanted to leave, huddled in thick wool blankets and desperately hoping he would close the minimal distance between you both.
His lips were a hairbreadth away from brushing against yours when another breeze caressed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that momentarily jolted you away from him.
“You’re cold,” he noted, though it was pretty obvious when you two were both outside in minimal layers. “Let’s get inside. We can warm up by the fire.”
And a part of you wanted to scream off the balcony into the French Mountains when he stood up, when the moment broke and his lips weren’t against yours. But as angry as you wanted to be, you were grateful when he guided you to sit in front of the fire as he added more wood to the dying embers.
His thigh was brushing against yours when he settled into the spot beside you on the floor, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold as he grinned at you before holding his hands out to the fire. You laughed, following suit and the conversation from moments before the almost-kiss returned.
However, minutes passed and your body was still racked with small shivers that Charles quickly picked up on.
“C’mere,” he murmured as he lifted his arm, giving you little time to dispute (not that you were going to) as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you into his side.
You didn’t think about it too much as you buried yourself into his embrace, as you pressed your cheek into his hoodie and enjoyed the way his hand seemed to leave a trail of heat wherever he touched.
“If I get hypothermia and die, I’m coming back to haunt you and your sugar cookies,” you grumbled, though it was lighthearted as you pressed your nose further into the fabric of his hoodie.
His chest shook underneath you as he laughed and tightened his hold on you. “I would never let anything happen to you, Stormy.”
“You and that stupid nickname,” you said as you let out a long sigh. “You know my actual name now. You have no excuse to use it.”
“Yeah, but it suits you,” Charles retorted, letting out a small noise of surprise when your cold fingers pinched his side. “Plus, you get this…uh, what’s the word…cute look on your face when you’re angry.”
Your head snapped up to glare at him. “I don’t look cute when I’m angry.”
His face brightened. “Yes! That face! C’est mignon!"
Your eyes narrowed further. “Don’t pull the cute French card, it’s not gonna help you.”
“You think my French is cute?” Charles replied, his laugh echoing through the suite as you rolled your eyes.
“You drivers and your egos,” you grumbled.
“Have a lot of experience with drivers?” Charles questioned, a hint of something unreadable in his voice.
You snorted, both of you knowing the answer to that question but you played along. “Maybe I do.”
His eyes darkened slightly. “What about kissing them?”
And just like that, Charles Leclerc had left you speechless for what felt like the millionth time since you met him.
His gaze was locked on your lips, the crackling of the fire felt like it was booming through the silent room and you were truly wondering if your heart was going to burst through your chest and splat on the floor in front of you both.
“I can’t say I have much experience in that department,” you admitted once you managed to choke your words out.
His lips twitched upwards. “Would you like some experience, Stormy?”
You didn’t know if you nodded or if he just took the signs of your flustered, stuttering mess and took mercy on you. You didn’t know if his hand reached to cup your face first or if it was your hand on the nape of his neck instead. You didn’t know if it was you moaning lowly into the kiss when his tongue darted out or if it was him.
Kissing Charles Leclerc was overwhelming and world-altering and, truthfully, you didn’t think you could even utter your own name if someone asked you at that moment.
“Merde,” he groaned before he kissed you harder, faster, more passionately. His other hand reached for your waist, those muscles hidden under his baggy hoodie put to good use as he hauled you onto his lap.
Your knees sat on either side of his hips, your ass firmly planted on his lap as the new position allowed you to fully wrap your arms around his neck. The boy’s hands dropped to your waist, squeezing and guiding as your hips shifted in his lap as his kisses left you seeking anything he would give you.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted when he had to pull away, when his lungs were burning for air. But you still wanted more, you sought out to keep hearing those pretty noises he made as your lips trailed down his neck. “So fucking long.”
“You took your time,” you muttered between open-mouthed kisses when his hold tightened as your lips passed a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear.
“You hated me for a majority of the time we’ve known each other,” he managed to utter out, his head falling back as your teeth lightly grazed his skin.
“Does it look like I hate you now?” You retorted, something about the back and forth feeling as thrilling and exciting as his fingers fiddling with the hem of your hoodie.
Charles’ eyes caught yours as you lifted your head from his neck, lips red and swollen and fuck, he wanted to kiss you again. “I think I need a little more convincing.”
“Yeah?” You watched as he nodded, a little too eager but it made your stomach twist in the best way possible. “Well, you did promise to keep me warm.”
“I did,” he murmured, his voice a little rough and husky.
“Warm me up, Leclerc,” you whispered as you leaned down to kiss him again, his hands squeezing your waist before your lips even touched. “And then I’ll decide if I hate you still.”
A choked noise of surprise left your lips when Charles suddenly moved. You were no longer sitting on his lap, but instead had been laid back on the floor with the boy now hovering over you. He flashed you a smile, one twisted with promises that made your chest feel tight.
You waited for him to lean down and kiss you again. You waited to feel his heated touch on your body. You waited for him to finally slide his hands under the fabric of your hoodie, to feel his fingers along your bare skin.
But instead, he just looked at you with so much fondness in his eyes.
“What?” You questioned, and suddenly the idea of being naked underneath him was no longer the most exposed you felt.
“Nothing,” he said simply as he shook his head. “Just…wanted to make sure.”
Your brows furrowed together. “Of what?”
“That you’re okay with this,” Charles said as he finally lifted his hand, as he let his fingers brush across the apple of your cheek. You could feel your skin heating up underneath his touch. “I want you to know that I’m happy to just talk. I don’t want you to think I just invited you here to—”
“Charles,” you interrupted, and the boy fell quiet as his cheeks flushed pink. “I want to.”
He tried to bite back his smile. “Yeah?”
You laughed, nodding. “Yeah.”
And despite the reassurance and despite the heat in your body that just wanted to throw your legs over the boy and ride him until the sun came up, Charles Leclerc was nothing, if not a gentleman. And something about that made it so much hotter.
His touch was always so confident but gentle. The way his lips pressed against yours, the way his tongue caressed yours as his fingers slowly peeled away the layers of clothes between the two of you. The way he paused to set down pillows and a blanket to make it comfier for you before his fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and discarding them someplace else.
The way you reached down to cup his bulge in his boxers, prepared to slip your hand beneath the elastic of his boxers and stroke the length of him—only to have your hands batted away. You barely got a chance to question him before his kisses silenced you, before they began moving south and you felt his lips on every inch of your exposed skin that he could reach.
You felt breathless by the time he was between your legs. You felt like your head was spinning with pleasure as he hooked his arms around your thighs and happily settled between them. You felt like you were in some sugar cookie induced dream as you glanced down, catching his eager eyes watching every little move and reaction you made.
The fire was roaring a few feet away, loud and proud and yet, it was his touch and whispered words that made your whole body feel like lava was coursing through your veins. It was the way his tongue swiped and licked your needy pussy, the way his lips wrapped around your clit until your back was arching off the ground. It was the way Charles murmured soft praises as his hands reached out for yours, as he intertwined your fingers and softly squeezed as you came on his tongue once, twice until you felt like a pile of bones.
It was the way he smiled down at you like his face wasn’t glistening with your release. The way he leaned down to kiss you with the taste of yourself still on his tongue. It was the way he was fully prepared to leave it there, let you rest, spend the rest of the night listening to the random rants he could coax out of you.
Charles only let out a surprised noise when you pushed him onto his back, as you straddled him like you fantasised about earlier and reached between your bodies to squeeze his aching cock.
You knew Charles Leclerc was pretty, even in the days where you thought you despised the man. It was an undeniable fact that he was easy on the eyes, that he was gorgeous, that he had one of those faces that didn’t make him feel like he was a real human.
But he was undoubtedly prettier when you were sinking down on his cock, walls squeezing him as his lips parted to let out a string of curse words in a handful of languages you didn’t speak.
His hands were all over you, his lips never stopped moving and all it took was a slight lapse in your tempo as you rocked back and forth for the boy to grip your hips, hold you up with ease and fuck up into you.
You were a puddle on his chest, his lips right beside your ear as he whispered filthy words to you. His hands and kisses were gentle when it felt like you could feel his cock in your throat from how deep inside he was. Charles Leclerc was a fucking enigma that you didn’t ever want to work out.
And even after he did most of the work, even after he was breathless and flushed and fucked out, you were still the first thing on his mind. Your comfort, your pleasure, just you.
“Cherie,” he murmured softly, the accent seeming a little thicker as he spoke. “We should move to the bed.”
“No,” your words muffled as you nuzzled yourself further into his chest, content where you were with your legs tangled together and your naked bodies pressed together. “I’m comfy here. Beside you.”
“Okay,” was all he said in response as he pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head and pulled the blanket over the both of you before holding you closer—if that was even possible.
…
The first thing you noted when you woke up was how comfortable the ground felt beneath you.
The second thing was that you were no longer on the floor, but on a very comfy bed with a mattress that felt like it was a cloud.
Your hand blindly reached out to your side, expecting to feel a solid, warm body and probably a disgruntled curse from a certain Monegasque, but it never came. Your brows furrowed together, your hand continuing to pat the bed but it felt cold under your touch.
For a short moment, you wondered if you had dreamt it all. You wondered if it was just a hyper-realistic dream where you swore you could still feel his touch on you, if it was all a part of your imagination.
And then, from the other side of the door, you heard a voice.
Your lips unknowingly tilted upwards as you sat up in bed, the sheet falling to your waist as you did. You stretched out your limbs, moving with no real rush as you grabbed the first piece of clothing you could find—a shirt of Charles’ that rested at your thighs—before making your way towards the door.
You pushed the door open, expecting to find him lounging on the couch as he talked away to whoever he was on the phone with, but he wasn’t. You leaned your head out, peeking around to instead finding him on the balcony, the door still open to let his voice and a chilly breeze carry through into the suite.
You contemplated bracing the cold and making your way towards the balcony, to wrap your arms around his waist and settle into the warmth of him as he finished his call. Your hand moved to pull the door open wider, but then the muffled voice became actual words and you froze.
“She doesn’t mean anything to me. She never has. Why should I care now?”
You frowned a little.
“I was doing her a favour, for no other reason.”
Your stomach churned, but you tried to ease your thoughts that were threatening to spiral.
“I’m not going to ever see her again after this trip, what’s the big deal anyways?”
But that? That was your final straw.
You felt sick to your stomach as you rushed around the room, staying as silent as you could as you redressed yourself. Your head felt like it was spinning, like you couldn’t even keep up with your own thoughts. You wanted to feel angry and spiteful, and maybe you did.
But most of all, you just felt disappointed.
In yourself. In the situation. In the man you thought Charles Leclerc was.
You were fighting down the bile that felt like it was rising up your throat when you finally slipped out of his suite. He was still on the phone, still on the balcony when you left. And he probably wouldn’t even realise you were gone until you were safely back in your own room, where you could let everything hit you at once and let the tears threatening to spill finally fall.
You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe he was that kind of guy, another asshole that you had laid yourself out in front of, only for it to be thrown back in your face. You wanted to believe he was the gentleman you saw, touched and kissed last night.
But the truth of the matter was that Charles Leclerc was just another name on your list of men who disappointed you, and you didn’t want to see his stupid, perfect face ever again.
…
Charles was absolutely fucking baffled.
He felt like he was missing a key bit of information in his own life, and no matter how many times he replayed the last week or so in his head, he couldn’t work out what he was doing wrong.
After a season of disappointing races and a team that played with his strategy like a fucking water balloon being thrown around by a group of toddlers, Charles wanted an escape. He wanted a place away from journalists and fans and everyone who even knew who he was. He just wanted a break from his own life.
The vacation at The Chalet was meant to just be that, but it became so much more.
For the first time in a long time, Charles felt like himself again. He felt happy. He was excited for the new year, he was excited for the future, he was excited for what possibly lay ahead of him. He felt like he was in some dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It was his reality and he woke up every day eager to know what amazing thing would happen to him—to know what amazing day he would have with you.
But that dream seemed to crumble into pieces when he realised you were ignoring him.
He didn’t try to take it too personally when he headed back into the bedroom that morning, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold weather but eager to spend a few lazy hours with you in between the sheets. He was eager to make you smile and maybe kiss you, maybe do something more.
But disappointment hit his chest when he saw the empty room.
He just assured himself that you probably had to head back to your room before your family and friends woke up, or maybe you wanted to freshen up. He assured himself he would see you at breakfast and everything would be fine.
But it wasn’t fine because you weren’t at breakfast. He waited in case you came at the end, but you didn’t.
He waited for you at the usual spot in the foyer, but you never came.
He waited for you at lunch and dinner too, but you never came.
The next day, he almost expected the same and was preparing himself to ask one of your friends if you were okay, but he was shocked to find you sitting in your usual place at breakfast. He smiled at you, something in his chest easing as he made a step in your direction, but the dirty glare you sent his way was enough to make him stop in his tracks.
You didn’t turn up to the foyer that day either but between the dirty looks from you and the fact he was pretty sure Harper tried to trip him up at the coffee stand, he knew something was wrong.
He just didn’t know what.
And every time he tried to get near you, tried to talk to you, it was a pathetically failed attempt that left that competitive streak inside his chest blaring with annoyance.
You were ignoring him and he didn’t know why.
And then he saw it, three days after you started ignoring him. He was making his way into the dining hall, having just showered after a day in the slopes his friends dragged him out for, when he saw you and Evan by the buffet.
Your eyes found his and something in his chest sparked.
And then his eyes fell to the way your hand rested on Evan’s arm, the way you leaned into him as you laughed, the way Evan’s arm was thrown over your shoulder as you both walked back to your table. He watched as you both sat next to each other, so close your thighs were probably pressed together under the table and something bitter settled in his stomach.
He knew he had no real reason to be jealous. Especially between the fact that you yourself had assured him everything between you and Evan was platonic (if not familial) and the fact there was no real talk of anything being between you and himself other than a shitload of chemistry.
But even logic didn’t stop the jealousy he felt.
His appetite was gone after that, as he turned around and headed back to his suite that felt a little bittersweet after the amazing night and shit morning he had with you. But he wasn’t in the mood to eat or pine for you from a distance.
Charles was sick and tired of you ignoring him, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
And the first step in his plan had everything to do with the blond you were currently laughing and touching. He just needed to get Evan alone.
…
It was Christmas Eve when Charles’ plan finally reached its final step—to finally talk to you.
It felt like an odd sense of deja vu when you woke up that morning, making your way down for breakfast before you got ready for the slopes that day. You thought nothing off the weird looks Evan was giving you or the way he seemed giddier than usual, because truthfully it was no different to how Evan usually was on Christmas Eve.
You put down his eagerness to head towards the slopes under the assumption he probably had some weird challenge for you and Harper at the top. You just hoped this one wouldn’t result in another sprained ankle.
“I’m riding with you today, Stormy,” Evan said as the three of you headed towards the ski lift.
“Uh, get in line, loser,” Harper spoke up as she stood on the other side of you. “I called dibs.”
Evan narrowed his eyes. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I did just now,” Harper retorted.
“Does it really matter?” You questioned, amused as you glanced between the two of them.
“Yes!”
“No!”
Harper and Evan turned to glare at each other, confusion from one of them and insistence from the other. However, you just laughed and shook your head.
“Fine, first one to the lift wins!”
You were already settled in the lift as you heard the two of them bickering to each other. You waited to see which one would win, to see who would settle in the spot next to you. However, what you failed to notice was the way Evan all but threw himself on top of his sister so she couldn’t reach the lift before someone else did.
You turned, a smile on your face as you waited to greet the winning Montgomery, but instead you found yourself staring at a painfully familiar set of green eyes.
And in an instant, your smile dropped at the sight of Charles Leclerc sitting next to you.
But before you could even think about jumping off the lift and taking the next seat, the lift was already too high up for you to do anything about it.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said to break the silence.
But you didn’t respond.
“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me but at least hear me out,” Charles continued, a hint of desperation in his voice. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
You kept your gaze facing forward.
“Evan told me what you thought happened that morning.”
And just like that, your head snapped around to stare at him, a mix of emotions going through you right now—though the biggest was possibly Evan’s betrayal.
“You weren’t lying when you said he was a big fan,” he said with a nervous laugh. “It didn’t actually take much for him to tell me why you’ve been ignoring me.”
“You used my friend?” You questioned, the bitterness and coldness in your voice evident.
“I asked and he gave me information,” Charles corrected before his shoulders sagged a bit. “Look, don’t blame him. He heard what I had to say and—”
“And I don’t care what you have to say so go talk to Evan about it,” you spat back at him, watching the way he winced at your words.
“Cherie—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Stormy—”
“And definitely don’t call me that.”
“Please,” Charles pleaded as he looked at you with wide eyes, ones that held so many emotions you did not want to see. “That phone call was not what you think.”
You looked away at the mention of the phone call, something quite like anger and disgust bubbling inside you at the mere reminder of the words you heard that morning. “Just…stop it, Charles. I don’t care, okay? You go about your life and I’ll go about mine.”
“No,” he stated simply.
You scoffed. “What? You need another girl in another city to have fawning over you? The hundreds of others not enough?”
“No, because I am not interested in my life not having you in it. I am not interested in a hundred other girls.” The words were stated like they were facts. “Stormy, I just want you.”
You scoffed again but a hand tugging yours made you look over at Charles, fully prepared to pull your hand away.
“I wasn’t talking about you on the phone that morning,” Charles quickly blurted out before you had a chance to say anything. “Everything you heard on the phone that morning, it wasn’t about you.”
You blinked.
“It was about Melanie.”
Your brows furrowed together, a crease forming between them that Charles had the urge to smooth out with his thumb, but he resisted.
“What?”
“She—” Charles paused for a moment, like he was trying to gather the correct words. “She’s not my friend, not really.”
You blinked again. “She’s not? But she acts—”
“She acts like we are, yes. She’s a friend of a friend, and that’s about all there is to her. She’s…uh, how do you say? She seems to have gained a crush on me? Or maybe it’s some weird obsession. I’m not quite sure,” Charles admitted with a frown. “She asked me out once, almost a year ago and I declined. But she has latched onto the group ever since and I couldn’t quite shake her off.”
You didn’t say anything, instead letting him continue.
“She wasn’t even meant to be on this trip,” Charles confessed. “But she said to our mutual friend that she was alone this Christmas and…I just couldn’t say no, right? But she’s spent the last year acting like I didn’t reject her and I didn’t like the idea of being trapped up here with her. But even with all our other friends, she was always beside me. She was always there. And when she started to throw tantrums to our friends and make up stories after I started spending time with you, I had enough.”
Your lips parted slightly in shock.
“Turns out she told all our friends that we were together,” Charles said with a grimace. “That we wanted to keep it a secret from the media, and that meant I wanted to keep it from everyone. She tried to make it out like I was a monster to our friends when I started spending days with you. Thankfully, none of them believed a word she said but…it was just too much.”
“Oh.”
“That’s why you heard me ranting on the phone about not seeing her after this trip because I have no plans to be around her ever again and I made that clear to my friends. You can even ask them if you don’t believe me,” Charles said as he finally let out a long breath. He looked at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I would never say those things about you. Not when you might just be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Your cheeks burned. “Charles—”
“I know you feel it too,” he continued, and that desperate note to his voice returned. “I know you’ve felt it all week. I know you felt it that night. I know you feel like this—us—could be something.”
“I’m such an idiot,” you muttered, closing your eyes as you realised the agonsing and the pain and the ignoring over the last few days could have been avoided if you stayed in the bedroom a little longer that morning. Or if you had just spoken to him instead of letting the pettiness take over.
“You had no reason to think otherwise about me, cherie, and I get that,” Charles said as he squeezed your hand, almost like a tester to see if you would pull away or not. But you didn’t. “But I want to change that. I want to explore this. I want to show you that I would never do that to you. I want to give you reasons to trust me.”
“I would like that,” you murmured in a soft voice, but Charles heard you loud and clear as he grinned at you.
“Yeah? You don’t hate me still?” He questioned.
You laughed, shaking your head as you did. “I don’t think I ever hated you, Charles.”
“Good, it makes this easier then,” he said before he leaned in, his slightly chapped lips pressed against yours—and something about it felt like coming home.
You sunk into his embrace, your hand coming up to cup his cheek like you needed to believe he was really there (even if the gloves made it a little awkward). But feeling him smile against your lips was assurance enough.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Charles.”
“Merry Christmas Eve, Stormy. I hope it’s one of many with you.”
And maybe Charles Leclerc became another one of the many reasons you loved The Chalet.
.
#charles leclerc#formula one#f1#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc smut#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#formula one smut#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot#f1 smut
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Evan Buckley x fiancée reader
Reader and Evan are recently engaged. Reader gets shot by the sniper instead of Eddie, Buck gets covered in her blood and attempts to save her (like the episode) and then just go from there please ❤️🩹. Please include lots of angst, sadness and happiness too 🫶
EMERGENCY ROOM - E.BUCKLEY
after a completely normal day on the job, you get shot seemingly out of nowhere. buck does not handle it well.
WARNINGS: spoilers for 04x13 and 04x14, established relationship, major character injury, blood, guns, buck is on the verge of a mental breakdown for most of it
buck x fiancée!reader II flangst Il 4.2k Il requests open!
a/n: i had so much fun writing the little fluffy bits at the beginning and the end i love them your honour
₊ ⊹ masterlist!!
“I know right?” You finally had a few minutes to fawn over your newest accessory now that you’d managed to secure Charlie away from his mother and get him into an ambulance, holding your left arm up in front of you and wiggling your fingers to show off the shiny rock on your ring finger towards Eddie. “Who would’ve thought he was so focused on the details?”
“Hey!” Buck nudges you as he walks past, shaking his head with a smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“People like you aren’t exactly known for their ‘detail orientation’ Buck,” Eddie laughs as he walks past him, pushing his head with the palm of his hand. “Good job on defying expectations,”
“Hey I am plenty detail oriented thank you,” gestures outwards exasperatedly, glancing at you for backup for his statement. You give him nothing more than a shrug of your shoulders.
“Shannon was the same when I bought her ring don’t worry,” Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder. “Went on this whole rant about how she never expected me to put so much thought into how it looked, I think it’s just a girl thing,”
“It’s not-” You scoff, putting a hand up in front of him in absolute astoundment. “I am trying to show my appreciation for the thought that went into making this ring fit my preferences, and you are making me feel disrespected,”
You point between the two boys in exaggerated disappointment, turning your face away from the two with a click of your tongue and a shake of your head.
“Oh come on baby seriously?” Evan sighs dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his head fall back until he’s facing the sky.
“You’ve hitched your wagon to a tank,” Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder once more, and the two share a short laugh.
“I’m gonna ride with Charlie to the hospital, you two good to get back to the station and tell Bobby?” Buck nods towards Eddie, giving him a small nudge towards the ambulance. “Yeah go ahead, we got it from here,”
“Thanks,” He returns Buck’s nod and then sends a finger salute in your direction. “See you later Mrs. Buckley, try not to kill him before the wedding,”
You laugh shortly at Eddie’s jest, shaking your head. “See you Eddie, give us a call if anything happens,”
“Will do!” He shoots the two of you a wave as he jogs towards the ambulance, climbing inside before the doors get shut behind him.
“Mrs Buckley,” Buck takes a few steps forward to grasp gently at your hips and pull you close to his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I could get used to the sound of that,”
You give a soft hum as his lips press to your temple, turning your face upwards to kiss him properly. “I’d hope so,”
You pull out of his grasp with a soft laugh, pressing the keys to the paramedic car against Buck’s chest for him to take before actually beginning to walk towards the vehicle.
“We’ll have to get you a new turnout jacket too,” Buck follows behind you with a smile etched onto his face, eyes scanning over the last name printed on the back of your jacket. One you wouldn’t have for much longer.
“It’d be pretty confusing to have two Buckleys in the same station, the jacket might have to stay,” You turn around to face him once more with a smile of your own, arms crossed across your chest. “We’ll know the truth though,”
You shoot Buck a wink and he laughs, stopping a few feet in front of you and mirroring the way your arms are crossed with his own. “Are you saying that I can’t show off the fact that you’ll have my last name to every single stranger we meet on the job? Because I don’t know if that’s gonna fly with me,”
“I’m sure you’ll find an excuse to let them know, you’ve got a talent-” Your retort is halted by a sharp sound, then a searing pain in your right shoulder, and then you can feel yourself tumble to the floor as your legs give out underneath you under no will of your own.
Buck flinches as you do, a mix of shock from the noise and an instinctual reaction to the splatter that covers side of his face and stripes of his button down shirt.
Then it feels like the world just stops. Buck stands there with wide eyes as he watches you hit the pavement, in an awake state of sleep paralysis as a pool of blood begins to seep onto the pavement and stain the tarmac red underneath you.
He wanted to shout, to run, to move, Anything.
But he couldn’t so much as curl his hands into fists as he stood stationary in shock, eyes wide and locked onto where you’d crumpled into yourself on the concrete.
It took one of the other firefighters on the scene physically tackling him down to the ground for him to move, and even then his eyes never left yours, just barely open as you slip in an out of consciousness.
“Get down!” Mehta yelled across the group of vehicles as he pulled Buck behind one of the trucks, covering him with his own body as he tried to radio for help. “Shots fired. Shots fired a firefighter is down. I repeat, a firefighter is down!”
Buck can feel himself hyperventilate, his hearing going quiet until the sounds of the civilians nearby are drowned out and replaced with his own racing heartbeat. He watches as your hand crawls forward along the pavement in his direction as if silently trying to confirm to him that you were okay, but the far away look in your eyes wasn’t reassuring him at all.
Then your eyelids fluttered and you weren’t looking at him anymore, your hand left still in front of you with the stones on your finger glinting in the sunlight like a sick taunt of Buck’s anguish.
Shots continued to rain over the fire engines, and as Mehta moved from Buck to radio dispatch again he mustered all of the strength he physically could under the rush of adrenaline in his system to make a break for where you were laying, crawling underneath the bed of the truck as cover as he watched you roll from your side onto your back. “Come on baby! I’m coming I got you!”
You groan through the pain as you roll over, still conscious despite the agony raging through your shoulder and down the rest of your arm as you squint your eyes from the harsh sunlight.
Buck gets as far out as he can without exposing himself to the raining shots, grasping at your wrist as soon as he’s close enough and tugging until you’re dragged under the engine and onto the other side protected by the metal of the truck.
The friction sends another sharp wave of pain through your body, a sharp yell leaving your throat as you’re dragged across the concrete.
“Get her in the cabin! Quickly!” Mehta and a few other firefighters from station 133 rush to open and prep the back of the truck to cover you inside, and Buck pulls you into a fireman’s hold over his shoulder as quickly — and carefully — as he can to secure you safely.
Another shot is fired in the group’s direction as you’re pulled out of Buck’s hold and onto the seats, shattering the glass of the window and only further hastening the efforts of the firefighters as everyone clambers into the truck to rush away from the scene, leaving the paramedics car you’d driven over in erupted in flames on the side of the road.
“Okay, we got you, we got you you’re okay,” Buck lays you down across the back of the truck with help from one of the paradmedic’s from station 133 with panic written all over his face, continuing to speak reassurances to you in haste, mostly trying to reassure himself that you would be alright.
He rips open the top of your uniform shirt, paying no mind to the buttons that are pulled from their stitching in his haste to cover your gunshot wound in gauze and stop it from bleeding out. “We got you baby you’re okay, just- just stay with me okay?”
Your vision is blurry as you blink up at him, and you can vaguely hear Mehta calling for a trauma unit on standby as you attempt to lift your head slightly to clear your vision of Buck’s face. “…Are you hurt? There’s a lot of blood..”
Buck follows your eyes as they trail down the stains covering the front of his torso, and he shakes his head quickly as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face. “No no no, I’m good baby, you just hang on for me okay?”
The hand that’s not stopping your wound from bleeding all over the place moves to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek softly, a stark contrast to the way he practically barks at the driver of the truck to hurry up.
You barely manage to lift up your arm to cover his hand with your own over your cheek, shaking your head slightly under his palm. “You shouldn’t shout at people…”
“I know baby I’m sorry-” He takes a sharp breath in as he turns his attention back to focusing on you and not on the fact he felt like this drive was taking forever.
The paramedic in the back helps to stabilise your head as you start to slip out of consciousness again, and buck rubs his thumb over your cheekbone to get you to keep your eyes on his. “Hey, three minutes away, you’re so close, I just need you to hang-”
It wasn’t working very well.
The paramedic preps and secures an oxygen mask over your mouth as your eyes start to flutter closed.
“I just need you to hang on…please…”
This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
He’d just asked you to marry him, you were supposed to be spending the evening celebrating.
You were supposed to get married and have children and grow old together.
Not get shot and bleed out in the back of a fire truck.
Buck jumps out of the vehicle the minute it stops in the hospital, practically screaming for the doctors to come and get you out.
“Through and through, upper torso,” Mehta explains your injury with just as much panic as Buck, although remains decidedly more collected as he barrels out of the front to watch you get pulled onto a gurney. “Large caliber-”
“We’ve got transfusion ready-” One of the nurses gives Mehta a nod before stopping as she takes in the last part of the explanation. “Did you say large caliber?”
“It was a sniper-”
“Pulse is weak! Trauma bay 2, quickly!” The medical team rush with you on the gurney towards the entrance of the hospital’s emergency unit with Buck watching on like everything was happening in slow motion. “Let’s set up for a thoracotomy-”
“Buckley, are you okay?” Mehta looks over at Buck with concern written all over his face as he examines the stains of your blood covering his face, torso, and hands, and Buck waves him off with nothing but a dismissive nod as an answer as his eyes remain locked on the door you disappear into, the the 133 firefighters, Mehta included, following after you inside.
He was not okay.
—
“Hey,” Eddie approached Buck carefully, but he still jumped at his voice anyhow. Eddie gave a short sigh through furrowed eyebrows, face contorting in concern. “She’s gonna be okay man, she’s strong, you know that don’t you?”
Eddie placed his hand slowly on Buck’s shoulder, immediately able to feel the trembling in his hands that traveled up his arms and into his back. “She was standing right in front of me I-”
“Hey.” Eddie swerved Buck to look at him, shaking his head. “This was not your fault. Nobody knows what happened. When’s going to be alright, you’ve just gotta put faith in her,”
Buck took a series of short, staggered breaths through his nose with a small nod, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking. “I need to change- And have a shower-”
“You need to take a second to breathe,”
“You don’t get it I-” Buck exhales heavily, his eyes flickering as he turns to face Eddie. “I can still feel it under my fingernails and no matter how many times I wash my hands it won’t go away-”
“Okay slow down for a second,” Eddie raises his hand up to stop Buck from falling into a spiral. “You can’t go home alone like this, you’re not okay,”
“I don’t know what to do-”
“Alright, you’re coming back with me, come on,” Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder, guiding him through the parking lot towards his car.
—
A sniper who was specifically targeting firefighters, who would’ve thought.
Being sent back out into the field wearing bullet proof vests and swat protection didn’t feel any more secure than proceeding unprotected Buck thinks. If they were going to get shot with a bullet proof vest on then the sniper would just aim for somewhere not covered by the vest.
And it only proved to remind him that you didn’t have the protection you needed when you were shot. Why should he be surrounded by swat agents and covered in kevlar when you weren’t afforded the same luxury.
You ‘took one for the team’ as people would say. But you shouldn’t have had to. Why you?
It was such a selfish thought, but he would’ve rathered any other firefighter on the scene get shot as long as it wasn’t you. He’d’ve rathered get shot himself than it being you.
But apparently the universe was conspiring against him, making him watch and suffer from the sidelines as everything he cared about got ruined one by one.
Maybe that was why he was so reckless. Maybe that was why he climbed the crane with zero protection when he knew he could’ve been shot at from any of the windows of the surrounding skyscrapers and loose his own life whilst still debating how he would live if you lost yours.
He could see the look Bobby gave him as he was lowered down to the ground again, preparing himself for another scolding about him being ‘reckless’ once they got back to the station.
But it never came.
In fact, Bobby didn’t speak to him at all.
“Are you gonna say anything to me?”
Bobby puts down the chopping knife with a sigh, turning around to see Buck leant against the kitchenette sink. “I don’t know Buck, what would you like me to say?”
“Uh… I mean- I mean usually it’s- ‘what were you thinking?’ or ‘that was reckless’ or my… personal favourite ‘you could’ve been killed’.”
“It doesn’t seem like I need to have that conversation, you know it by heart already.” Bobby gestures exasperatedly before picking the knife back up to continue chopping the onion on the table in front of him. “And still, you went full Buck.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing-” Buck approaches Bobby slowly, arms braced over his stomach in a self-soothing fashion.
Bobby sighs once more as Buck doesn’t drop the conversation, giving up his chopping to put his full attention on Buck. “You’ll never be the guy who thinks before he acts. And i’ve learned to come to terms with that,”
”In part because I realised I don’t have a choice, you’re never gonna change,” Bobby gestures outwards with his hands before clasping them together. “But also because… I know no matter what actions you take, no matter how dangerous or impulsive they may be, they come from your heart because you care.”
“Wow, uh, thank you,” Buck gives a soft chuckle as he claps his fist into his hand, clearly happy that he wasn’t getting a scolding this time around.
“Today was not that.” Bobby paused for a second before continuing. “You didn’t get caught up in some moment and rush in where angels fear to tread, you made a deliberate choice to make yourself a target.”
“Yeah.” Buck shrugs his shoulders exasperatedly. “I made myself a target because I wasn’t gonna let any of you guys take that risk because I cannot handle anyone else getting hurt right now.”
“And what about her? How do you think she would feel if she wakes up in the hospital to find out you got yourself killed because you weren’t being careful?”
Buck didn’t really have an answer to that question.
“You have responsibilities Buck. You have a responsibility to this team, you have a responsibility to your fiancée, and most importantly you have a responsibility to yourself.” Bobby shakes his head disappointedly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You cannot keep putting yourself in reckless situations Buckley because there are people around you that need you alive.”
Buck exhales heavily, biting the inside of his cheek. “Look I couldn’t protect her from getting shot, but today? I had an opportunity to protect the rest of you. So I did.”
Bobby sighs as he turns back to the half diced onion, finishing chopping it slowly. “We are a team, and we’re supposed to protect each other.”
There’s a small moment of silence before Bobby turns to look at Buck for a final time, a stern expression on his face, although lingering traces of gracefulness simmer into the wrinkles by his eyes. “Don’t do it again.”
—
The doctors said the surgery went well. It was probably one of the most relieving moments of his life.
He didn’t have time to visit you immediately though, the team had to go on a call out first.
And of course, because nothing was ever easy, the man who’d called 911 from the fire was also the sniper who was targeting firefighters.
Bobby ended up with a pistol shot to his abdomen, and after helping Athena get into the building dressed in firefighter gear to subdue the sniper the team headed straight to the hospital, now with two team members induced for bullet wounds instead of just one.
Bobby’s was much less severe than yours, but he was still put in for surgery, and Buck decided that it was a good time to visit you down the hall in the recovery unit.
You were still unconscious when he arrived, and it physically pained him to see you hooked up to so many machines as he took a seat at your bedside.
“Hey baby…” He took your limp hand in his own, fingers brushing over your knuckles and the ring still resting on your finger. “The doctors said that your surgery went well… So you should wake up soon…”
He lets out a small stunted exhale as he lifts your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to your fingers. “I was so worried about you… God you scared me half to death-”
He continues to fiddle aimlessly with your fingers as he recounts the events of what happened to your sleeping self, how he risked his life, how Athena ran into a burning building to find Bobby and how he’d been bothering Eddie and Christopher for the last few days so he wouldn’t have to be on his own.
He told you how he’d moved the reservation of your engagement dinner so you wouldn’t have to miss it, laughing softly to himself at how excited you were to go to that specific resturaunt and try everything they had to offer.
He stayed after regular visitor hours were over, using his position as your fiancé to stay just a little while longer as a priority visitor, not wanting to miss the moment you woke up.
He ended up missing it anyway.
You woke up slowly, eyes fluttering open to the florescent lighting and the rhythmic beeping of the heart rate monitor.
The most prominent thing though, was an added weight on your left thigh, right near your stomach.
A mop of sandy blond hair is what meets your sight first, then your follow it down to his broad shoulders and his back, awkwardly bent forward in his chair to lay his weight on top of you. Then you noticed your hands caged together, his fingers intertwined with yours and held close to his chest.
The sight makes your heart melt a little, and you smile softly as you achily pull your right hand over to thread your fingers through his hair.
He stirs almost immediately, and you can feel his eyelashes brush against your thigh through the thin hospital bedsheets as he pushes himself upwards slowly until he’s supporting his own weight again.
“Hi baby…”
Buck lets out a short breath as your voice meets his ears, features flooded with relief. “Hi…”
You mirror the smile that breaks onto his face with your own, expression still laced with fatigue but also filled with your absolute love for him. He’d really stayed with you in the hospital for so long he’d fallen asleep.
“How’re you feeling?” Buck’s gaze flickers from your face to your bandaged right arm, and you give him a small shake of your head to dismiss his worries.
“I’m okay, takes more than puny bullet to put me out of commission,” You give him a soft wink and he gives you a little chuckles in return.
“You’re one tough lady…” he leans forward towards you until your foreheads brush against each other and your noses bump together. “I’m glad you’re okay…”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” You laugh softly, shaking your head against his and causing your noses to brush back and forth. “You put a ring on it remember?”
You pull back enough to flash your hand at him and show of your ring like he wasn’t the one who bought it for you.
He pulls your hand down into his lap without a care in the world for looking at the gemstone on your finger, his eyes not wavering from yours for even a second as he cups your face for a kiss, one filled with all the love and pain and anxiety and relief that he’d felt over the last few days.
“I love you so much-”
His lips leave you almost breathless, and you give his hand a soft squeeze. “I love you too Evan,”
He pulls you in for another kiss almost before you can even finish your sentence, and you laugh softly against his lips at the fervour. as you return his enthusiasm.
He shifts his hand down from your face closer to your neck as the kiss continues, and you groan against his mouth as it brushes a little too close to the brushing around your shoulder, pulling away with a hiss of pain.
“Ow ow ow-”
“Oh I’m so sorry-” Buck brings both his hands up away from you like he’s not exactly sure what to do with them, eyes wide in imminent panic of hurting you further.
The expression on his face sends you into a small for of giggles, and it’s enough to ease his panic back into calmness as you prove that he hadn’t actually hurt you.
“You always were a little rough with your hands,” You tilt your head against the pillow with an amused expression on your face, and it’s enough for him to crack a smile himself as you reach up your hand to pull his head back down towards yours.
Your lips connect more with his teeth than his own lips as you kiss him through his smile, and he laughs softly into your mouth at your statement. “You’ve never complained,”
“I never will complain,” You shake your head against his softly with a laugh of your own, one that’s cut off by his lips on yours once more.
All’s well that ends well he supposes.
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Heart Full of You
Spencer Reid x Reader
Summary: When Spencer goes to pick Henry up from school for JJ, he doesn't expect to fall head-over-heels for his teacher
Warnings: Mentions of guns, I think that's it?
Word Count: 4541
Author's Note: I don't really like the ending I have here, but I'd LOVE to continue writing this universe, I have so many ideas!
“Fate shuffles the cards and we play.” ~Arthur Schopenhauer
~
Spencer walked through the doors of Henry and Jack’s school and headed toward the theater. JJ and Hotch had signed the boys up for the school district’s musical and had asked Spencer to pick them up. JJ and Will had their Thursday date night, and Hotch was stuck in the office. Spencer was more than happy to agree. He slipped into the auditorium and took a seat at the back, since he was still pretty early.
He saw a younger woman, probably in her early 20s, at the front of the auditorium with a clipboard and tape measure. She was presumably taking the students’ measurements for costumes while the instructor up on the stage led the children through the dance steps. The man he knew to be one of the high school teachers sat in the middle of the front row, making notes in a book.
The dance instructor clapped as the song ended. “Okay, everyone, that’s the choreo for the day. I’ll turn you over to Mr. Meadows.” She nodded to the teacher in the front row.
“Thank you Miss (Y/N). Take a water break, everyone, we’re back in five.”
A small chorus of “thank you five” was heard from the older students as the kids dispersed off the stage. The woman, Miss (Y/N) as Mr. Meadows had called her, hopped off the stage with ease and joined the younger woman who was taking a high schooler’s measurements.
“Okay, folks, let’s bring it back!” Mr. Meadows called. “Take your seats, please. I won’t keep you too much longer, I just want to go over today’s notes.” Spencer noticed the monotonous tone of his voice and the elementary schoolers’ attentions already fading. “First, I need my principles, minus Jack and Red, right at 3 tomorrow. Do not be late. Evan, that means you. We have vocal work to do with Ms. (Y/N) and I do not want to waste her time. The rest of my high school cast, 3:30. Next, principles, do your linework. The sooner you start, the easier things will be later. Finally, my junior cast, don’t forget to see Ms. (Y/N) and Ms. Addi with your grown-up before you leave. And with that, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”
Henry ran over to Spencer, his overly large backpack thumping against his back. Jack walked behind him, dragging his bag behind him.
“Uncle Spencer!”
“Hey, kiddos!” Spencer said, kneeling down to catch the incoming Henry in a hug. Before he knew what was happening, Henry was dragging him towards the two women at the front of the auditorium.
“Miss (Y/N)!”
“Hey, Henry! Hi, Jack! You boys find your grownups?” the dance instructor asked him. Her clothes reminded Spencer of the teacher on that Magic School Bus show Henry liked. Her pants were covered in music notes and she wore large, dangle feather earrings.
Henry nodded. “Uh-huh! This is my Uncle Spencer!”
You looked at Spencer and smiled. “Well, while I talk to your uncle, why don’t you go let Miss Addi take your measurements for your costume?”
Once Henry bounded over to the young woman with a clipboard, Jack following close behind, Spencer said, “Uh, my name’s Spencer Reid. I’m an authorized pick-up for both Henry Lamontagne and Jack Hotchner. I’ll be bringing him home today, too.”
“Uh, Hotchner, Hotchner,” you muttered under your breath, flipping through the clipboard in your hands. “Ah, here he is. I just need your signature next to both children’s names, Mr. Reid.”
“Oh, uh, of course.” He took the clipboard and pen from you. “So, are you new to the district? I don’t remember seeing you around before.”
“Oh, no,” you said with a laugh. “No, I’m here on a volunteer basis, technically. Been working with the theater department for six years, but I’m not on their payroll. I actually work-”
“Can we go get pizza now?” Henry asked Spencer, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.
“Ooh, a pizza party? You must be the fun uncle,” you said.
Spencer’s face flushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, s-sure, Henry. We’ll get it on the way home.”
“Bye, Miss (Y/N)!” Henry said, wildly waving his arm.
“Bye, Henry, bye Jack. I’ll see you boys on Monday.”
Spencer watched you for just a moment longer as another child and her guardian approached you.
~
The team was reviewing a local case. 3 women were killed, all dressed in period clothing.
“You think he’s making them look like Jack the Ripper’s victims? I mean, their throats are slashed and they’re dressed in Victorian clothing.” Morgan suggested. “And we know the victims are low-risk, victims of opportunity.”
“I don’t know,” Reid muttered, scrutinizing the crime scene photos. “Something about the clothes feels off.”
“The clothes are the key. Something about them will lead us to him,” Rossi said.
“Reid, you and Callahan look into the clothing more. Dave, you and Morgan go to the latest crime scene. JJ, you’re with me. We need to build a geological profile.” After Hotch gave the assignments, the team dispersed. Spencer and Kate Callahan stayed in the briefing room, looking over the photos.
“What if we have an expert look at the clothes?” Kate suggested. “See if anything sticks out to them? There’s a professor at the university that’s known for her dissertation on historical clothing.”
~
“Now, if you look at contemporary theater, you’ll notice huge differences in how typical gender roles are portrayed. Unlike the standard Golden Age piece, women are given more agency and more purpose in the story besides furthering the objective of the man. For example, West Side Story versus Hairspray. Even though both shows center on a woman, it’s Tracy’s will that drives the plot of Hairspray whereas Maria’s will does not drive West Side Story. This goes back to our discussion earlier in the semester regarding protagonists. However, we do see a shift during the Golden Age, in that women are beginning to be fleshed out as characters. Compare the women in Allegro to the women in Gypsy. As we progress through to the contemporary age, we begin to see more female-led shows take stage.” You glanced at your watch and sighed. “And that is where we will pick up next class. Please remember to read chapters 13 and 14 in your text. If you have any questions, you know where to find me.”
Your class gathered their belongings and slowly made their way out of the room. You were tucking your own belongings into your bag when you felt someone approach the desk.
“Office hours are at- Oh, hello.” When you looked up, a woman was standing in front of you, presenting an FBI badge.
“Dr. (L/N), my name is SSA Kate Callahan, and this is my partner Dr. Spencer Reid.” Standing behind her was a man you recognized from the school. He was the uncle Henry Lamontagne talked about all the time. “We were hoping you’d be willing to give us your professional opinion on some clothing pieces.”
“Oh, well, uh, sure. Let me just email my next class and let them know it’s canceled.”
As you pulled your laptop out from your bag, Agent Callahan asked, “Don’t you have a TA that could take over?”
You huffed a laugh. “I’m a professor in the theatre department. I’m lucky I have my own workshop and somewhat of a budget during show season.” You typed up a quick email to your next class and sent it. “I usually work in my shop instead of my office, but-”
“Wherever is most comfortable for you,” Agent Callahan said. “We have some pictures that are… well, gruesome.”
You nodded. “Well, then, to the dungeons it is.” At the concerned look the agents gave each other, you said, “My workshop is in the basement. My students affectionately christened it the dungeons a few years ago. I hope you don’t mind a few sets of stairs.”
“Lead the way,” Dr. Reid said.
Getting down to the costume shop was like a quest on its own. Not only did you have to trudge down several staircases from the classroom floors, but then you had to use your ID to take the elevator the rest of the way down. When you finally reached the basement, you dug your key hoop out of your bag and flicked through it. The key to the main portion of your shop was attached to a Phantom of the Opera keychain.
You unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Welcome to my shop. Feel free to sit wherever you can. If there’s stuff on a chair, just set it on a workbench.” As you set your bag down at the desk in the corner, Spencer looked around the room. It could be accurately described as organized chaos. While the work benches were covered in fabrics, thread, and many other things Spencer didn’t know the names of, everywhere else was meticulously organized. Bins and drawers were labeled, and not a thing seemed out of place. Spencer looked at the dress hanging on a mannequin and couldn't think of it as anything other than a work of art. There was elaborate beading on the bodice and embroidery on the skirt.
“So, what can I help you with?” you asked as Kate and Spencer got settled.
“We were hoping you could tell us about the outfits in these pictures,” Spencer said, pulling a file out from his satchel. “Fair warning, it’s not pleasant.”
You shrugged. “I grew up with a mom obsessed with crime shows and police procedurals. Pictures won’t bother me.”
Spencer handed you the file folder. “We think he’s dressing them up like Jack the Ripper’s victims.”
You hummed as you looked through the pictures. “Any idea what kind of fabric was used?”
“Why does that matter?” Kate asked.
“Well, cotton was a luxury in Victorian London,” you explained. “Most common folk wore linen or wool, because it was what they could afford. It was also common to patch up clothing with fabric found around the house rather than replace a shirt or a pair of trousers.” You grabbed a magnifier from your desk and looked closer at one of the photos.
“Do you see something?” Spencer asked as you moved to another picture.
“I’m not sure,” you said.
“Well, what is your gut telling you?” Callahan asked.
You pointed toward a small section of embroidery through the magnifier. “This stitching along the underside of the skirt. It’s on all of them.”
Kate’s eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a signature. Us designers like to add some sort of signature or tell into all our pieces. A secret way of letting the world know the piece is ours.” You reached across the desk and grabbed a piece of fabric. When you unfolded it, they saw it was a shirt. You held the edge of the sleeve out for the agents to see. “For example, I use a treble clef as mine. My mentor would include Mickey Mouse heads because she was a huge Disney fan. Other people just find creative ways to embroider their initials onto it in a way that just looks like an artistic choice.”
“So, if we can find out whose signature it is, it can lead us to the origin of the outfits,” Spencer said.
“I’ll call Garcia, see what she can find.” Callahan said.
“Oh, we don’t get cell service down here, you might need to go back upstairs,” you told her. She nodded and stepped out of the workshop. You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh, it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Reid.”
“You, too,” Spencer said with a small smile. “So, this is where you actually work, huh?”
You gave a small laugh. “Yep. Start of this semester was 7 years.”
“Congrats.”
“Thanks. So-”
“Reid. Hotch wants us back. Rossi and Morgan might have something. Thank you for your help, Dr. (L/N).”
“Of course. Happy to help.”
After Callahan and Reid left the costume shop, Kate said, “Okay, spill. The energy in there was really weird. Why didn’t you tell me you knew her?”
Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, I didn’t know I knew her.” At Kate's questioning look, he explained, “I met her through my godson. She volunteers at his school and goes by her first name there.”
“Uh-huh. And the awkwardness?”
“When have you known me to not be awkward, Callahan?”
Kate hummed, but dropped it.
~
You were humming along to the soundtrack you had playing, measuring a drape of fabric on your dress form, pins sticking out from your mouth. You glanced from your notebook with your measurements and pattern sketch to the fabric. You pinned a piece of the cloth up when you heard a knock at the door to your shop.
“Come in,” you said, your voice muffled from the pins. You stuck them back in the pin cushion on your wrist before standing up and dusting off your pants. “Oh, Dr. Reid! How can I help you?”
“You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he said. “I uh, I wanted to stop by and tell you we caught the guy,” Spencer said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “We-we couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“Oh! Well, I’m sure you would have figured it out anyway. The BAU seems to be good at that kind of thing.”
Spencer gave a small laugh. “Yes, but your help enabled us to track him down without any more lives lost.” So, what are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m making one of Eponine’s dresses. We’re doing Les Mis this semester. I have Cosette’s dress on Cordelia over there.”
“Who?”
“Oh, sorry. The dress form. We named them after Shakespearian women. It’s just a fun little thing we do here. That’s Cordelia, this one by me is Rosalind.”
Spencer smiled. You know, maybe you could tell me more about what exactly your job is at dinner?” Before you could answer, Spencer said, “Obviously, you don’t have to, I’m not trying to force you into anything, I-”
“Spencer,” you said, holding your hand up to calm him. “I’d love to go out with you. Here-” You walked over to your desk and shuffled papers around. “Aha!” You grabbed a pen and scribbled something down. “My personal number. That way we can, you know, figure out something that works with both our schedules. I’m sure yours is even crazier and more unpredictable than mine.”
The smile you gave Spencer lit a warmth in his chest that he didn’t think he would ever get tired of.
~
“Pretty Boy! Tonight, drinks on me.”
“Oh, uh, no thanks, Morgan.”
“No, no, no, you can’t just stay in when we finally have a Friday night off. You’re coming.”
“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to- I mean, I don’t, but it’s not just that. I, um, I already have plans.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you all on Monday.” He grabbed his satchel and rushed out of the BAU office.
Morgan’s brow furrowed as he watched Spencer’s retreating form.
“What’s wrong?” JJ asked.
“Remember the last time Reid was this jittery and secretive?”
She sighed. “You know I do.”
“What happened last time?” Kate asked.
“Maeve,” Garcia answered, her voice just above a whisper.
“We have to find out what’s going on with him,” Derek decided.
“I really don’t think that’s necessary-”
“Let’s follow him,” Garcia cut Kate off. “See where he’s going, what he’s up to.”
~
“That can’t be true!” Spencer laughed. “There’s no way!”
You were laughing too. “I’m serious! I stapled the sleeve of my sweater to the set piece we were building and I didn’t notice until we were ready to lift it into place! They wouldn’t let me in the wood shop after that.”
Spencer couldn’t stop smiling the whole night. You were funny, smart, and everything he could hope for.
“So, how did you end up working with the school district?”
“My niece,” you explained. “Her senior year, their regular choreographer went on maternity leave. The district said if they couldn’t find someone to fill the role, they would cut the play. Julia called me melting down over it, begging me to volunteer. And, you know, I’ve never been able to say no to my nieces and nephews. After that production, we found out that the choreographer was quitting to be a stay-at-home mom, so I agreed to be the regular choreographer on a volunteer basis. Then the next year, their costume connections fell through. I worked through the university to provide costumes, which is how the internship program started. This year, I’m just filling in on vocal directing while the choir director is out on medical leave. And Into the Woods is one of my favorites to sing anyway. So, what about you? How’d you end up working for the FBI?”
While Spencer told you about going to college at 12 and meeting Gideon, Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were sitting at a nearby table, hiding behind menus.
“Who is she?” Garcia asked, trying to get a better look at you. Your back was to their table.
“I don’t know. Never seen her before.”
JJ squinted. “Something about her seems familiar.”
Before they could do more digging, a waiter came over to take their orders. When the waiter left, Spencer’s table was empty.
“Where did they-”
Spencer walked up to their table, arms crossed against his chest. “Really, guys? Did you think you were being discreet?”
“Kid, look-”
“You were being all secretive, we were worried about you!” Garcia cut in.
Spencer sighed and dropped his arms. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I just- We’re all so in each other’s business, and this is so new I-”
“You wanted to keep it to yourself,” JJ said. “We get it. Looks like she’s coming back from the bathroom. We’ll get out of your hair.”
“But-”
“Come on, Pen. I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it on Monday. Right, Spence?”
Spencer smiled. “Sure, Jayje.”
~
Phone calls with your family always stressed you out. It wasn’t that you had issues with your family, it was just that they always seemed to be up in your business. And that held true for your monthly family dinner.
“(Y/N/N), I’m telling you, you’d get along great with this guy,” your older sister, Maria, said. You were over at her house for dinner, your parents and other two siblings video-calling from their respective locations. “I know you feel like ‘the universe and fate will align’ and introduce you to your soulmate or some shit, but that’s not really how the world works.”
You sighed. “Maria-”
“Come on, you haven’t dated anyone since college!”
“Because I haven’t had any interest. Liz, back me up here,” you said to your younger sister, who was feeding her twin toddlers.
“What?”
You shook your head. “Never mind. Can we just change the subject, please? Tommy, how’s school going?” you asked your younger brother, the youngest in the family. You could tell he was only half paying attention from his dorm room. “What classes are you taking this semester?”
“Maria’s right, sweetheart,” your mother said. “How will you ever meet someone without putting yourself out there?”
“Ma-”
“I mean, you’re not getting any younger-”
“I have a boyfriend, okay, Ma? I don’t need your help!”
Your family fell silent.
“You have a boyfriend?” Liz was the first to speak. “What’s his name? Where did you meet? How long have you been together? How-”
“Elizabeth, let her breathe!” your father said with a laugh. “We’re happy for you, pumpkin. Tell us about him. At your pace, of course.”
You smiled and told them about Spencer. Only after promising to bring him to the next real family dinner did they relent and change the subject, pestering your little brother about his college classes.
~
You and Spencer were a damn near perfect match. After that first date, the two of you barely went a day without calling or texting each other. When he was in town and not across the country on a case, he would bring you lunch. You’d frequently stay over at each others’ apartments. Months into your relationship, you knew each other better than yourselves.
Which is why, when you didn’t answer your phone on a Saturday afternoon when the team got back from a case, Spencer was concerned. He made his way to your apartment and fished the spare key you’d given him out of his pocket. He pushed your door open.
“(Y/N)? Love?” He walked into your apartment, which was unusually messy. Scraps of fabric were littered around the room, and music was blasting from your home office. “(Y/N)?”
You came rushing out of your kitchen, your hair a wild mess and your oversized pajama top drooping from your shoulder. You skidded to a halt.
“Spencer! What are you doing here?”
“We just got in from the case. I tried calling-”
“You did?”
“-to see if you wanted to grab dinner.” You pulled your phone from your sweatpants pocket and saw the 3 missed calls from Spencer. “Are you okay? What’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
You sighed. “I haven’t. I’ve been working nonstop. I need to make the mask for the Wolf, the Witch's coat, and Enjolras and the other revolutionary’s waistcoats, and my sister asked me to make a dress for her coworker’s daughter’s quinceanera and-”
“Whoa, whoa, hey. Breathe.” He cupped your face in his hands. “You need to stop working yourself so hard,” he said, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb.
“Says the man who overworked himself so much he developed chronic migraines.” At his raised eyebrow, you said, “Sorry.”
He smiled softly and kissed your forehead. “Why don’t you let me help you out a bit? Give me instructions, I’m a quick learner.”
You reached up and pulled his hands from your face. “Spencer. As much as I absolutely treasure and adore you, the thought of you seeing the absolute disaster that is my home workshop right now is literally the most terrifying thing I can imagine. More terrifying than you meeting my family. Which, by the way, my mom is insistent that you come to Thanksgiving this year.” You yawned and leaned your head against his chest.
“We can talk about that later.” He kissed the top of your head. “How about now, into bed? You’re dead on your feet, love.” When you only nodded, Spencer led you to your bedroom.
After getting you settled in your bed, Spencer went to stand up. You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Stay,” you mumbled, tugging him towards your bed.
The next morning, Spencer walked into the round-table room late.
“Well, look who’s wearing the same clothes,” Derek said. “Fun night?”
“Shut up, Morgan,” Spencer said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Hotch looked over Reid before saying, “As I was saying, Indianapolis needs us to write up a consult. Garcia is passing around the case file.”
~
Spencer was filling out paperwork at his desk when his phone started ringing. “Dr. Spencer Reid.” He froze as he heard the person on the other end of the line. “Oh- oh my god. Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll be right there. Uh, thank you.” He slammed the phone down and started gathering his belongings.
“What’s wrong, Reid?” JJ asked, watching Spencer cram a folder into his satchel.
“(Y/N)’s at the police station.”
You were walking home from the fabric supply store when a young man stopped you. He couldn’t have been older than 20. He pulled a gun and pointed it at you.
“Give me your purse,” he said. You saw the way his hand was wavering.
You straightened up. “No.”
“You-you can’t say no! I-I have a gun!”
You just blinked at the man- practically a boy. Then you kicked him in the groin, causing him to drop the gun as his hands flew to cup his injury. You pressed your foot on top of the gun, preventing him from picking it back up, then you dialed the police.
They brought you to the station to give a statement. You were sitting next to one of the detective’s desks when Spencer ran in.
“(Y/N)! Are you okay? What happened?”
The detective nodded at you and gestured toward where Reid had come from, indicating you were free to go.
You shrugged at Spencer. “Some punk-ass kid tried to mug me. Had a gun and everything.”
“What?”
“It’s fine, I knew he wasn’t gonna go through with it.”
“How could you possibly have known that?”
“Spence, I’m from Philly. It’s not the first time someone’s tried to mug me at gunpoint.”
His eyes went wide as saucers. “That doesn’t make it better!”
You smiled and kissed Spencer’s cheek before taking his hand. “I’m fine. Thank you for coming to get me.”
“Of course, (Y/N). I love you.” Your smile widened as Spencer’s face started to pale. “I mean, uh-”
“I love you too, Spence. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
~
“Okay, closing night,” Mr. Meadows said, addressing the students, all in their brightly colored costumes. “I’m incredibly proud of all of you for making it this far. This is our last show, you’ve all done great so far. Go out there and give them one last show to remember. Now, before we get in places, Ms. (Y/N) is going to lead you through a vocal warm-up.”
“Thanks, Mr. Meadows,” you said, taking your spot in front of the group. “Okay, guys, you know the drill. Repeat after me, then all together.” You took a deep breath before leading, “To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock, in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock, awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block.”
After the cast ran through their warm-up, you said, “I’m so proud of all of you. Go out there and break legs. I’ll see you all after at intermission.” You waved before slipping from backstage, making your way to the lobby.
It wasn’t often that you got to just sit and enjoy the hard work your students put in, but one of your interns was staying backstage in case of any costume emergencies. You spotted Spencer in the crowd and wove through everyone to get to him. With him were Henry’s parents, Jack’s father and aunt, as well as the rest of the BAU team.
“Hey,” Spencer said, grabbing your hand and giving you a quick kiss. “Glad you could join us.”
“Me, too,” you said as you slowly made your way into the auditorium to find your seats. “It’s gonna be nice to just enjoy the show for once.”
As the show began, you felt Spencer looking at you.
"What?" you whispered.
"Nothing. The costumes are beautiful. You're an artist."
Your cheeks flushed at his words. You took his hand in yours and rested your head on his shoulder.
Like Cinderella and her prince, Spencer was your happily ever after.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#bau
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Mr. Yeti
Summary: Chris finds you texting someone.
Pairing: Chris Evans x Sister!Reader, soon to be Travis Kelce x Silence!Reader
This is part two of Silence after TWO WHOLE YEARS.
Chris came into the living room. You’ve ventured out of his guest room and have planted yourself on the L shaped couch. You’ve got Dodger right next to you with his lion. The tv is on with cartoons playing but you’re not even paying attention. Your eyes are on your iPad as you type away with one finger messaging somebody somewhere. It’s been a week since you’ve been discharged from the hospital.
“Hey, want me to type for you?” Chris asked.
You flinched but eased when you saw it was him. He came around and sat down on the couch beside you. He saw your saw your screen a little clearer. At the top was Mr. Yeti.
“Who’s Mr. Yeti?” Chris asked.
You looked at him holding the ipad against your chest not allowing him to see the message exchange. He looked at you. You’re looking a lot better than you have. The swelling in your face especially has gone down. Your still a bit puffy around your jaw and lips but that’s understandable with your jaw being wired shut.
“Y/n… is it a boy?” he teased.
You tensed up. Chris smiled and put his arm around your shoulders. He pulled you into his side. You looked at him warily.
“It’s okay, ya know,” he said. “As long as there’s no funny business going on.”
You gave him a look that he knows all too well. He smirked.
“I’m your brother, Pooh, not your dad,” Chris said.
You let out a small hum.
“Lemme at least hold your iPad for you while you text this Yeti guy,” he said.
You shake your head no.
“Please. I won’t even read what you’re texting him,” he said. “I’ll just hold it for you because I know it’s not easy on trying to hold it with your broken hand.”
You grabbed him by his chin and moved his head to face the tv. He snorted at your actions. You then guided his hand to hold your iPad. You checked quickly to see his face. His eyes are currently on the tv— he’s going to seek a look at your messages because he is your older brother and wants to make sure things are going smoothly.
You unlocked the iPad and opened up your messages again. You’ve received two new ones from your buddy. You’re quick to type out a clever response. Chris managed to catch you smiling. He hasn’t seen a smile from you in years. He does miss it.
Chris did kiss the top of your head when he noticed you weren’t texting anymore. He looked to see if you’re asleep and you are. Your lips are parted letting your wires be shown. He took the chance and glanced at your screen. A majority of its pretty innocent.
He ended up turning it off for you and placing the iPad off to the side. He then made sure that you’re covered with the very soft blue blanket.
“Sleep tight, Pooh,” Chris whispered.
#chris evans x reader#chris evans x you#chris evans x silence!reader#silence!reader#travis kelce x silence!reader#chris evans x sister!reader#chris evans x y/n#chris evans fanfic#travis kelce x evans!reader#travis kelce x reader
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you asked for microfic prompts-
deaf regulus/coda james (this is my all time fav trope) in literally any scenario
idk if you’ve done it before, but still putting it out there
This gave me such brainrot, I stg. If it's in italics, it's signing.
-
They had been sitting in the cafe for only a few minutes when Regulus waved at Barty to get his attention.
'What?' Barty asked, raising his eyebrows at him. He'd been in the middle of writing his English paper, and was not in the best of moods.
'To your left,' Regulus signed, jerking his chin.
Barty looked over to see a tall man with wavy brown hair sitting at a table by himself, staring vaguely in their direction, with headphones in his ears. Judging from his expression, he looked like his thoughts were a million miles away.
'The bloke?' Barty questioned, grinning a bit.
Regulus smirked. 'Nice arse. I'd climb him like a tree.' His hands moved skillfully, even as he threw Barty a suggestive smile.
Barty looked back over at the man again, taking in his tan skin and muscular frame. 'Evan is better,' he decided.
'Evan is taken.'
'Hell yes, he is,' Barty laughed, nodding.
They continued their conversation, hands flying as they discussed the finer points of Mr. Nice Arse's body. Regulus was halfway through describing exactly how he thought the man looked without a shirt when the subject of their conversation stood up, pulling out his headphones and walking directly toward them.
Both Barty and Regulus froze and stared at the other man as he stopped at their table, unsure of what do to.
'You're welcome to come back to mine and find out,' he man signed fluently with a grin, eyes glued to Regulus's face, which turned bright red. 'You can even- what was it- climb me like a tree?'
Barty burst out laughing at Regulus's expression of horror, but as he left the cafe alone five minutes later, he was pretty sure he could deem that a positive turn of events.
-
Also a note- if this comes off as offensive to any deaf/HOH people please let me know! I chose to write what people were signing in the way one would speak in English versus the format of ASL/BSL, just because I am not educated on the intricacies of the grammatical differences between spoken English and ASL/BSL and I didn't want to make mistakes that would end up being more offensive. However, I'd like to make everyone aware that, at least for what little I know of ASL, it is signed differently than spoken English in the way the order of words might be different, or some words might be left out.
#marauders#harry potter#marauders era#marauders fandom#harry potter marauders#the marauders#the marauders fandom#the marauders era#james fleamont potter#james potter#james x regulus#james potter/regulus black#james potter x regulus black#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#regulus deserved better#james loves regulus#regulus black loves james potter#jegulus#jegulus fanfiction#starchaser#sunseeker#barty crouch jr#barty crouch junior#regulus and evan and barty#evan rosier#rosekiller
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Balance
── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────
Summary: You’ve never cared much for James Potter, but the universe knows best, right?
Pairings: James Potter x Reader, Cindy Hawthorn (oc) x Marlene Mcinnon
Pronouns used: None mentioned
Word Count: 2,403
Warnings: R and R’s friends are kinda mean to James at first.
A/N: Thank you to @lemkay-luminary for proofreading! Ily!!!
They say you don’t actually live until you meet your soulmate, that the day you finally touch them for the first time the world stops and you magically start living. They say that before you’re on autopilot. You weren’t sure how much you believed that. You hadn’t met your soulmate yet, but you thought you lived a pretty full life.
You had a close group of friends— Cindy Hawthorn from Slytherin, Zachary Jones from Hufflepuff, and Michael Perez from Slytherin— you were in Ravenclaw just like your Mother, you were a prefect,you got mostly perfect grades. So how could you have not lived?
James was the opposite. He did every crazy thing he could think of to prove himself wrong, he wanted to believe his life was perfect as is, but it never worked. He knew he wasn’t living without his soulmate, he could feel it.
He had Sirius, Remus,Peter, Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary. He had a great set of parents, plenty of money, made fine grades and he was head boy. He had what seemed to be the perfect life, but he knew it was far from.
As a prefect, one of your duties this year was to help plan the winter ball. You were ecstatic, the winter ball was one of your favorite things ever.
You sat with Mike as usual at the prefect meeting. Mrs. Mcgonagall sat with James Potter and Lily Evans on either side of her, head boy and head girl. You hadn’t really ever talked to either one of them, the only class you had with them was astronomy and most slept during astronomy.
Though, you had an opinion on James Potter, who didn’t? Most people loved him, somehow finding him charming. You personally saw him as a childish boy disguised as a man.
You and the other Ravenclaw prefect, Eric Jonesy, were in charge of food. That was your favorite job since you got to taste everything the elves made to make sure it was good, and it always was. When you heard your name called, you gave Jonesy a polite smile, and he did the same.
“Well, I’d better go talk to Eugenia, how we’re to find music I’ve got no clue.” Mike says to you, standing up as the meeting ends.
“That’s fine, I’ve got to talk to Jonesy about snacks anyways. See you at breakfast?” He nods and salutes you as he walks away. You grab your bag and approach Jonesy. “Hey, do you have an idea on when we should talk about the snacks?”
“Oh hi L/N! Erm.. Are you going to the quidditch game on Saturday?” You scrunch up your face and shake your head. “Perfect me neither, would you like to meet up at twelve in the common room then?”
“That works for me. See you then.” You smile and wave before walking off. When you exit the meeting room, a boy runs into you, knocking you to the floor. You look up to see Sirius Black on the floor in front of you.
“I’m sorry!” You narrow your eyes at him.
“It’s past curfew, Black, what are you doing here?” I stand up and he follows soon after.
“Waiting for James.” You roll your eyes.
“Five points from Gryffindor. He’s inside.”
He grins. “Thank you!” He goes to hug you and you place your hand on his chest.
“Don’t push it.” With that, you walk off.
The next morning, you and Mike meet up with Zach, Cindy, and Cindy’s girlfriend, Marlene, in the great hall.
“Morning all!” You say, sliding onto the bench.
“Morning.” They chorus.
“How’d the prefect meeting go? Heard you took some points from us.” Marlene asks, taking a bite of her grits.
“It went well, I’m in charge of the food for the ball!” You smile proudly. “And yes, Sirius Black seemed to think that waiting outside a room full of prefects after curfew was a good idea.”
She rolls her eyes.“Course he did.” She turns to her girlfriend and smiles. “We’re going to the ball together right?” Cindy nods.
“I thought that was implied.” She says with a small laugh. Zach fake gags from beside her.
“I miss my best friend.” He says dramatically.
“I’m right here dumbass.” Cindy snorts, moving her blonde hair behind her shoulders.
“No you’re not. You’re on Marlene island. And you didn’t even get a ticket back.” She deadpans.
“Are you serious right now? I’m going to act just like this when you meet your soulmate and want to spend every second with her.” Zach grimaces. Mike wraps his arm around you.
“At least I have my stand-in soulmate still.” You smile and shake your head. Mike has been calling you that since you were 11 and witnessed two soulmates meeting for the first time.
“Agreed.” Zach opens his mouth to retort but is interrupted by four boys approaching you all. It’s James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. You sit up straighter. “Can we help you boys?”
“Heard you took points from Gryffindor last night. I asked Sirius to wait there for me so I’d like them back, thank you.” James replies.
“Does Mcgonagall know you, the head boy, are letting fellow classmates— not to mention your best friend— get away with being out past curfew?” No response. “You’re lucky I only took five. I could’ve taken ten. Fifteen even. And, Black, you’re lucky I didn’t give you detention.”
“Oh. Yeah thanks for that.”
“I would’ve revoked it anyways.” James murmurs.
“Dumbledore must have been feeling funny when he appointed you head boy.” You shake your head and start eating breakfast.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’ve done nothing to actually deserve the honor of head boy. You’ve had more write ups than I can count on my fingers. Everyone else is just too blind to see.” Mike replies for you. “I mean, come on now, you barely even passed potions last year.”
“It’s a hard subject!” Mike rolls his eyes. “What have you all got against me anyways? Are you jealous?”
Zach turns around. “Potter, what could we possibly be jealous of? You didn’t even win the quidditch cup last year.”
“That’s because your beaters hit a bludger at him!” Sirius replied.
“Maybe that’s because that’s what they’re supposed to do?”
“If you all have some sort of problem with James, just say it.”
“I have a problem with James.” Zach and Cindy chime.
“I have a problem with James. Wow, that was actually really clarifying, thank you Sirius.” Mike says with a shit eating grin.
“I have no issue with James. I’ve got issues with rule breaking.”
“You must be fun at parties.” James says with a snort.
“I am actually.. when I’m not on duty. That’s the difference between you and me, I know when things have gone too far.”
“What are you talking about? I know when things are too far!”
“Really? Like in fifth year when you publicly humiliated Snape? That wasn’t too far?”
“I was fifteen!”
“So was Snape! You never even apologized.”
“What, so you don’t like me because of something I did two years ago?”
“Yes.. and the fact that you don’t seem a bit sorry for it, or any other prank you have ever pulled on anyone. James, don’t take it personally, I’m sure you just forgot or didn’t realize. At least I hope so.” You stand up, grabbing your things. “I’m off to class. Have a wonderful day.” You turn to your friends. “Whose common room are we meeting in later?”
“Yours!” Zach yells. He always preferred the Ravenclaw common room to his own. Especially since it’s a tower and, in his words, ‘The perfect landing pad’. He would open a window from the outside on his broom, and fly in.
“Alright. See you all then.” With that, you walk off.
The rest of the day goes by smoothly, your classes are great, seeing your friends is great, and you only had one more class. Astronomy. You were able to sneak in a small nap before heading up to the tower.
You don’t bother standing with anyone else, you’re far too tired to socialize. However, when James Potter walks in and sees you, he immediately goes to stand beside you.
“Evening, L/N!”
You deadpan. “It’s midnight.”
“How was your day?”
You glare at him.
“Sleepy?”
No response.
“Fair. I’m quite tired myself. Head boy duties, you wouldn’t get it.”
“Shut up, please, for the love of Merlin, shut up.” You beg, stepping away from him.
“Wait—“ James reaches out and grabs your hand. Before you can realize it, everyone suddenly stops, it’s like you're frozen in James’ grip.
“What the hell?” You whisper, looking around at your frozen classmates. You glance at your wrist and finally realize that James is touching you. For the first time.
“You’re my soulmate.” He says, with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen in your life. You stare at him astonished.
“What the hell?” You repeat. You pull your wrist out of his grip and everyone starts moving again. “We will talk about this later.” You walk off, leaving the tower, completely disregarding the professor yelling at you.
Your first thought is to go get Mike, but you knew he was asleep, he was always in bed at 8 PM on days he didn’t have Astronomy. So instead you just went to your room, and slept.
The next morning, you’re woken by someone pounding on your door. You groggily get up and answer, no one should be there this early on a Saturday.
“What?” It’s Mike, grinning at you knowingly.
“James Potter is your soulmate?”
You groan. “How did you find out? It happened at 12 last night, do you have a mic on me or something?” You shake your head and let him in, closing the door behind him and then collapsing on your bed.
“I know everything. How are you feeling about it?”
“Out of all the people in the world, it had to be him? He’s so.. childish.”
“And you’re pretty uptight.”You look at him in shock. “It’s the truth! You are! I say it out of love, you know that. Opposites do attract, maybe you and Potter will be really good together.”
“Maybe.”
“How did he react?”
“He was pretty happy. I just brushed him off like he was nothing. Merlin.. what kind of soulmate am I?” You rub your face. “I have to go talk to him huh?”
“Yeah.” He pauses. “I know I’ve never liked him, but I think you guys will be great together. You have to be. Look at this as a good thing, will you?”
“I’ll try.”
“Okay, now get out of bed, and go talk to your soulmate. I’ve got to high five the entire student body.”
You laugh. “Use hand sanitizer.” He nods before leaving. You sigh, looking up at the ceiling wondering if James would even want to talk to you after last night.
After getting up and dressed, you go to the Gryffindor common room, asking the Fat Lady for him. You waited for five minutes, until the portrait opened and Remus Lupin walked out. He gave you a polite smile.
“Is James in there?”
“Er.. yeah. I should warn you, Sirius set up a prank in the common room. There’s a trip-wire at the end of the tunnel, don’t touch it and you’ll be fine.” You nod.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.. And, for the record, James is happy it’s you.” He leans into the portrait and whispers the password, letting you in when it opens. You walk down the tunnel, hesitating, you are able to spot the trip wire and step over it.
It’s easy to find his dorm, “HEADBOY” is carved right above the door. You knock as soon as you get there so that you don’t overthink it and leave.
“One moment!” James calls out. You find yourself smiling at the sound of his voice. You can hear shuffling on the other side of the door before it finally opens and James meets your eyes. “Y/N!”
“Hi James. Can I come in?” He quickly nods and moves out of your way. His dorm is big, there’s a full sized bed, a couch, a few bookshelves, a desk, and two wardrobes. “You have a nice dorm..”
“Thank you! Perks of being Headboy I suppose.” You sit down on the couch and he quickly sits beside you.
“I apologize for running off last night.”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry.”
“Y/N, it’s okay. I understand that you were shocked.” You shake your head.
“More than shocked. We’re complete opposites, James. I was scared, I am scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of us hating each other!”
“Why would we hate each other?” You sigh.
“Because! You’re so.. loose. You’re brave. You’re the most Gryffindor-y person I’ve ever met. And I am not that. I am quiet, I’d do anything to stay out of trouble, I hate being in trouble. Meanwhile trouble seems to follow you wherever you go!” James just stares at you. “I don’t know how you could ever possibly be happy with someone like me.” You admit quietly.
“How could I not be?” He immediately replies. “You’re like sunshine. I’ve never seen you do anything other than laugh. You’re responsible, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I could probably do with being a little moreresponsible myself. If anything, you’re perfect for me. I’m perfect for you. We balance each other out. You have half of my soul, don’t ignore that, please.” You stare at him for a second, trying to form a response. Instead you just grab his face and kiss him.
When you pull away from the kiss, James smiles at you.
“Don’t.” You say, glaring at him.
“What? I didn’t even say anything.”
“You were thinking.”
“I do that a lot.”
“Poor brain.”
“You like me.”
“Hush.”
“You kissed me!”
“Shut up!”
“You fancy me!” You hit his shoulder playfully as you start to smile too.
“You kissed me back, you must fancy me too.”
“You caught me.” He leans in and kisses you again.
As you sat there with James, you realized that even though the relationship would definitely have its issues it was worth it.
── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────
Taglist— @artvoyager
#james potter x reader#james potter fanfiction#james potter x you#harry potter x reader#sirius black x reader
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Need You Now
Hello, my lovelies!
So listen….this is completely self indulgent and is all Mr Evan’s fault. He just had to go and win Sexiest Man Alive and have a sexy fucking photoshoot. And those pictures just had to make me feral.
This is definitely not the best thing I’ve ever written. Threw it together in about an hour. Again having nobody to blame but Christopher.
I mean how could I not after I saw the above picture? I couldn’t not write something.
Well anyways, I hope you enjoy it!
*DISCLAIMER, if you’re under 18, just go away. This isn’t for you! Kindly fuck off. Thanks!
Words: 2.4k
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Language, unprotected Smut, P in V sex, Breeding Kink, talks of trying to conceive, husband and wife kink if you squint, Chris in that picture, I think that’s it
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“Why did you agree to this again?”
You rolled your eyes at your husband as you continued doing your makeup in the mirror. “Because Andy, it’s the last good weekend before the colder weather sets in and because we were invited and I want to go.”
Your grumpy husband lets out a sigh. “I would’ve much rather done our own thing than go to this cookout.”
You put the finishing touches on your makeup and turn around to look at him. “Why? It’ll be fun! They’re our friends, Andrew. We don’t see them very much.”
Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “But I don’t even like half of these people.”
“Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad. I promise. If we get there and you are bored to tears and hating life, then we’ll go. Scouts honor!”
He walks until he’s standing in front of you and puts his hands on your hips. “Okay, fine. I’ll go but only because you want to. But when we get back…” He starts trailing light, barely there kisses along the side of your neck until he reaches your ear..”You better plan to be up all night, filled with me.”
Before the shivers finish trailing up your spine, Andy steps away with a chuckle to go get dressed. Well shit. Now you aren’t sure you want to go yourself. You shake your head. No. You had promised your friends you’d show up. Plus you were already ready. And you thought you looked pretty cute in your yellow sundress.
You turn back around to face the mirror to double check your hair when your husband emerges from the closet. You do a double take as he sits on the bed to slip on his boots.
Jesus Christ you have forgotten how to breathe.
Your usually suited up, straight laced A.D.A., is sitting there looking like sex on legs.
He’s in a pair of black slacks and a dark green shirt. But that’s not what has you open-mouthed and drooling. It’s the way he only buttoned up the shirt about halfway and you have a clear view of the chain he always wears and the tattoos that litter his chest. Including your name he has tattooed over his left pec.
Christ on a cracker. You can already tell your panties have soaked through. This piece of shit is doing this on purpose. He knows the effect he has on you.
“Sweetheart?”
You shake your head as you close your mouth, stunned to see him standing in front of you. He reaches up and wipes some drool from the side of your mouth. “You, uh, got some drool there.”
You open your mouth to retort but realize your brain has short circuited from the beauty of the man in front of you.
Sure, you’re married and have been together for a long time. Doesn’t mean you aren’t still widely attracted to the man.
He gives your ass a smack. “We better get going. Don’t want to be late.”
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After changing into a fresh pair of panties, you and Andy head on over to your neighbor's house across the street.
You both head ou tback where the party is in full blast. “Well look what the fucking cat dragged in! The Barbers!”
Your eyes instantly spot the man yelling. “Hi, Mike!”
You let go of Andy’s hand and let Mike pull you into a quick hug. You’re soon pulled out of it by his wife Kate and pulled into her arms. “Oh my god! I can’t believe you actually showed up!” She pulls away and looks you up and down. “Cute dress! Come on, let’s go get you a drink!”
You turn your head about to see if Andy wants anything, but see a beer has already been put into his hand and is standing in a circle of the other husband’s chatting. Looks like he’s even enjoying himself. You knew he would.
Kate drops your hand after you make it over to the drink table. “So, what’s your poison?”
You eye the table and decide to play it safe and stick with an old fashioned wine cooler. Kate just rolls her eyes at you. “That’s it?”
You twist the cap off and take a quick sip. Just as good as you remember them. “I don’t want to get too crazy. Plus, it’s been forever since I’ve had one of these.”
Kate looks up after she gets done pouring an adequate amount of rum into her coke. “Well, they are delicious. So, how’ve you been? How’s, uh, everything?”
You take another swig before answering. Of course she’s wondering if you’d had any luck conceiving. You shrug your shoulders. “Nothing yet, but we’ve only been trying for a few months. Plus my doctor said it may take awhile since I had been on birth control since I was 15. Might take a little bit for all those hormones to leave my system.”
She nods. “Yeah, it took about a year for me to get pregnant. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll happen!”
You shake your head. “I’m not worried. It’ll happen if it’s meant to. And if not, then we’ll adopt. I’m not going to stress over it. The doctor said stressing about it can make it not happen so I’m going to stay positive.”
Kate smiles at you. “That’s a great mindset! Regardless of how it happens, you’ll make an amazing momma!”
“Thank you! I hope so! I’m sure I’ll be asking you for lots of tips.”
She takes a sip of her drink as she looks over at her kids playing around the yard with the other neighborhood kids. “Oh, I’ve got plenty!”
The 2 of you are soon joined by a couple other women you hadn’t seen in awhile either. You guys chat and gossip about everything that’s been going on lately. As the conversation turns to something you’re less than interested in, you can’t help but let your eyes wander over to Andy.
The men have migrated to a group of lawn chairs and are laughing about something. Andy’s eyes catch yours and he gives you a smile. God you loved him. You return it before getting pulled back into the conversation when one of the ladies asks how your job is going.
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About 2 hours later it starts getting dark out. All the women had rejoined their significant others at the lawn chairs.
You were currently laying against Andy’s chest, him leaned back with his arms wrapped around you. The fire had been going for a while now and you were all nice and toasty.
A few of the couples had gathered their kids and bid their goodbyes. That left only Kate’s and Mike’s kids and a few couples left sat around the fire.
You’re just enjoying listening to the conversations going on around you, letting the vibrations of Andy’s chest as he talks to Mike lull you to sleep.
You just get your eyes shut when your phone starts going off.
You quickly grab it and silence it. Kate asks if everything is okay. You wave a hand in her direction. “Yeah, just my mom texting me.”
But that’s a lie.
That wasn’t your text tone that went off. You knew that sound well. And judging from the way Andy is now practically squirming underneath you, so does he.
You have this app on your phone to help track when you’re ovulating. And anytime you’re in a peak ovulation time, an alarm goes off. The sound has lately made your husband feral. He’ll bend you over the nearest surface and stuff you full.
Speaking of.
He is currently subtly rutting his erection into your ass.
You hold back a whimper and grab onto his arm. “Andy, stop. Not here.”
He leans down to whisper into your ear, “Should’ve thought about that when you made plans to come here. You know what that fucking alarm does to me. Need to be inside you baby girl. Now.”
Oh, fuck.
You’re about to suggest going home when the rest of the couples, and kids, start to stand up and head toward the house. Mike goes over and puts the fire out.
Kate comes over to your chair. “We’re going to head inside and watch the new Halloween movie. You guys wanna come?”
You don’t even have time to open your mouth to respond before Andy does. “Nah, I think we’re going to head home. Both of us are a little tired. Aren’t we, sweetheart?”
You nod your head. “Yeah, the fire made me tired.”
She nods. “Okay, well let’s get lunch next week?”
You agree. “Sounds great! Thank you for inviting us.”
She waves as she heads inside. You go to get up but are forcefully pulled back down. “Just where do you think you’re going, baby girl?” He moves your hair to the side and starts kissing and biting at your neck, all the while moving his right hand under your dress.
“Well I thought we could head home and take care of-“ But you’re cut off when his fingers make contact with your clothed core.
“Too far. Need you here, now.”
You go to protest but he moves your panties aside and sinks a finger into you.
You smack your hand to your mouth to keep your moan in. Andy just chuckles behind you as he adds another finger and starts scissoring them around. “Need to keep quiet, baby. Don’t want the neighbors knowing what we’re doing out here.”
You clench down on his fingers. “Oh? Maybe you do, huh? Does my baby girl want to get caught?”
You can’t even respond. You start grinding against his hand. He indulges you for a few minutes before he pulls his fingers out and flips you around so that you’re straddling him. He pulls you in for a lust filled kiss before he grabs your hands and puts them at the top of his pants. “Go on. Take me out.”
You don’t need to be told twice.
Not wasting any time, you unbutton and unzip his slacks. You quickly find out he has gone commando this evening. You look up at him in surprise. He just gives you a sexy smirk. “Easier access?”
You roll your eyes and lean back in for a kiss, your right hand wrapped around his achingly hard cock, pumping it up and down.
Andy brushes your hand away and pulls your panties to the side. “Sorry sweetheart. Need to be inside you.”
Not wanting to wait any longer yourself, you grab ahold of his cock and hover over him and rub his tip along your soaked slit before sinking down on his length. You throw your head back and let out a sigh of relief. You love nothing more than to be filled by your husband.
Andy takes a minute to watch the pleasure on your face. It doesn’t last very long though before he grabs your hips and starts grinding you back and forth in his lap.
You don’t catch the moan that escapes you this time.
“Shhh. Need to be a good girl and stay quiet while your husband fills you up.”
You nod and place your hands on his shoulders as you take over the movement of your hips, picking up the pace. Andy releases his hold on your hips and smacks your ass before pulling the top of your dress down enough so your tits spring free. He pays extra attention to your nipples, knowing how much you like it.
After a few minutes, you change from grinding to bouncing up and down on his cock as best you can on a lawn chair. You can already feel yourself close to an orgasm. “Andy, please. Gonna cum. Need help. Please.”
He repositions a little so that his left leg hangs off the side of the lawn chair and plants his foot on the ground. He grabs the back of your head with his left hand and pulls you down until you’re chest to chest, pulling you into another kiss. He takes his right hand and moves it in between you so he can rub your clit.
He uses the little leverage he has with his foot and starts thrusting up into you, hitting your g spot from this position. You moan into his mouth.
“Fuck, baby girl. Squeezing me so good. Won’t last much longer after you cum. Need to fill you up.”
You’re both now just panting into each other’s mouths. “Please Andy.N-need it. Need your cum.”
“Yeah? Need me to fill you up, huh? Yeah you do. Gonna fuck a baby into you sweetheart.”
And that’s what does you in. You cum with a silent cry, your hands digging into his shoulders.
He only lasts a few more thrusts before he gives into his own pleasure. You can feel his warm spend filling you up as he slows his thrusts down, eventually coming to a stop. You both take a minute to catch your breath before you make eye contact and burst out laughing.
“Can’t believe we just fucked on a lawn chair in our neighbors backyard.”
He pulls you in for a sweet kiss. “I fucking love you, Mrs. Barber.”
You smile. “I love you, Mr Barber.”
He cups your face and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, smiling when you press a kiss to it. “Think we better get home, sweet girl. Before I take you on this chair again.” As he says this, you can feel him start to harden inside of you.
Startled at how quick he’s ready to go again, you quickly get up and let out a hiss as he slips out of you.
You right your clothes as best you can before grabbing your phone and helping him up.
He tucks his cock back into his slacks as best he can with a hard on and zips and buttons them up. He grabs your hand and starts practically pulling you towards your guy's house.
“Hurry up baby. That pussy isn’t going to fill itself up.”
You were in for a long night.
Tags: @drabblewithfrannybarnes @harrysthiccthighss @patzammit @bluemusickid @wanderinglunarlights
#Chris Evans#andy barber#andy x reader#andy barber smut#andy barber x y/n#life ruining boston cream meatball#chris evans fanfiction#andy barber x wife reader#chris evans smut#andy barber drabble
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For the text series: can you do one about how they are when they are sexting? lol
These are so fun lol.
The Evan’s texting edition. Sexting.
Warnings! Sexually explicit things. Obviously.
Evan Peters.
“Hey there, sexy. You look so good.”
“Thank you, baby.”
“You’re welcome, babe. Your eyes would look so good looking up at me as I wrap my hands around your neck…”
He would be so shy lol.
Tate Langdon.
“Mmm, baby. I just want to serve you. I’ll do whatever you want. Kiss you, touch you, taste you. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
“You’re such a good boy, Tate.”
“Come home. Let me take care of you.”
Kit Walker.
“Damn, who gave you permission to look that good?”
“Kit. That was lame.”
“It wasn’t lame last night when I had you bent over the counter.”
“KIT!”
Kyle Spencer.
Okay I feel like Kyle would be like.
“I wanna duck.”
“Duck?”
“Truck.”
“What?”
“FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Jimmy darling.
Mr. Smooth talker.
“Mmmm precious. When are you going to bring that pretty face here? That little mouth of you would look so much better here and open.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Of course, baby girl.
Kai Anderson.
When isn’t he sexting you? The problem would be getting him to stop.
“Hey. I’m at the store. What do you want to eat?”
“You.”
“Kai. I’m being serious.”
“Oh, me too. Little lamb. I want you splayed on the dinner table as I eat that little pussy.”
“STOP IT. IM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLE.”
“That’s you’re problem, princess.”
James Patrick March.
Murder daddy would be really classy with it.
“Oh, my little bird. When are you coming back? My lips miss yours…JPM.” Homie would straight up write an entire romance novel in your texts.
“James. I know it’s you. Calm down. There’s no one going to steal you’re identity.”
“You can never be too sure.”
“JPM”
“JAMES!”
#evan peters#evan peters imagine#american horror story#evan peters fanfiction#evan peters x reader#ahs#ahs fanfic#tate langdon#kit walker#ahs murder house#kai anderson x reader#tate langdon fanfic#jimmy darling x y/n#kyle spencer#ahs apocalypse#ahs smut#evan peters x you#evan peters smut#evan peters fanfic#evan peters x y/n#evan peters x female reader#evan peters characters
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Summary: after talking to Regulus, you both decide to take the offer to stay with the Potters, and barty gets thrown across the slytherin table by Evan
Pt1
A/n: very focused on Reg for some reason, not 100% sure why, but it's lovely, also we love bestie barty. ALSO ALSO, reader is aggressively, very aggressively, hinted to be slytherin
Poly!moonwater x reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.4k words
Tw: toxic family, running away? Family disappointment, ect. Barty jinxing Gryffindors for sport and an owl flying into a chess game
Asked to be tagged: @misacc08
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It's finally two weeks until the end of this year at Hogwarts. Class times have been filled with going over study guides and reviewing for the final exams only a few days away.
Neither you nor Regulus have said yes to staying at Potter Manor this summer. Despite James being very adamant about it.
“I’ll just mention you blokes might be joining us.” James told you when you visited Gryffindor table one morning, as he wrote his parents.
“James-”
“No, no, let ‘im. No harm in it? Is there?” Sirius cuts you off, feet extended to rest on the bench across the table from him.
“But Mrs. Potter shouldn’t prepare an extra room if neither of us will be joining.” Your points are acknowledged when James hums to confirm he heard you, but his quill never stops moving.
Remus has been looking at you the whole time. Not in a creepy way, you're both pretty sure not in a creepy way at least. Just in an undivided attention way. Practically ignoring the other two boys to admire you, other than when he occasionally slaps away Sirius’ hand on his fifth attempt to grab Remus’ food.
You look down to where Remus sits as well. Honestly, he's not that much shorter than you sitting down, but wherever. Your hand that's not holding the strap of your bag gently scratched the hair at the base of his head before kissing his cheek, mumbling a small promise to see him during your study time later.
ᯓ★
It's not like you don’t want to go to stay with everyone else. It’d be amazing; it really would. But the idea of going when Regulus stays at the Black House feels wrong. You know being with your parents won’t help him, nor will being at James’ house, but it feels wrong.
Remembering how destroyed he was when Sirius left. When he came back to school, you two hadn’t known the Marauders like you do now. The anger he knew was misplaced, but he couldn’t help but feel abandoned by Sirius. You remember it—the crying, the way he couldn’t focus until a month into school. And you remember Sirius being disowned.
And maybe that's part of it too. The idea of being disowned. Even if you know they are horrible people, people you don’t wish to be related to. The idea still makes you sick. Their horrible and evil, but dear Salazar, parent approval is so addicting and you hate how much you still want it.
So which is worse, feeling like you betrayed one of your boyfriends, or your parents disapproval?
“Regulus?” You keep your voice low in the library. The aforementioned boy looks up from his textbook sitting across from you. Remus, next to you, pauses, moving his quill to focus on you two as well.
“Yes?” His voice matches yours, despite being a little more stiff.
“I wanna talk about it again. About James’ house.” You rush the words out. Probably because you know Regulus will want to shoot it down immediately.
“Love, you know I’m not going.” He sighs, sitting up straight in his seat.
“Why? Why not go?”
"Dove-" Remus tries to interject, not sure how well direct confrontation will go after Regulus has already denied it far too many times.
“What would I do?”
Both you and Remus pause, looking right at Regulus. Who stares right back at you.
“What do you mean?’ Remus says what you think.
“I leave, I get disowned, I lose the family fortune.” There are unspoken words there; everyone knows. He loses the Black name, he loses the reputation, and he loses everything he ever knew. Sirius had always wanted to leave; he had dreamed about it long before the possibility ever even crossed Regulus’ mind. The older Black had an idea of what would happen long before he left. Regulus hasn't gotten that right.
“We can figure it out when we get there, love.” Remus rests his quill in the small ink pot, reaching both his hands to cup Regulus’ hands between his own.
All three of you stay silent for a second, Regulus looking down at Remus’ hand covering his own, you staring at Regulus, and Remus looking between the two of you, trying to figure out what to do.
"If..." you sigh, shifting in your seat, “if... you go... I’ll go, and we can figure it out together.”
Gray eyes shoot up to yours. “Are you serious?” His voice is unsure, like you're going to take your offer back for no apparent reason.
“Yeah. I’m scared too, but I don't think I can bring myself to go back, not this time. But at the same time, I won’t be okay with going if you don’t go.”
Remus takes a deep breath, one hand still holding the younger boy's hand, other moving so his arm wraps around your shoulder, gently rubbing your upper arm. “So, it's settled. I can tell James.”
“Thank you,” You whisper, and Regulus takes one of his hands from the lycan to intertwine your fingers.
ᯓ★
The letter felt wrong to write. Less than a week before you're off to Potter Manor is when you get a response.
You're sitting at the Slytherin table in the morning when the letter holding their response arrives. Your owl landing smoothly, unlike the poor Hufflepuff owl you see sly head first into a game of Wizard Chess.
The seal of the letter belongs to your family, and it's painfully obvious. Regulus had gotten his response within a few days. Hurtful and harsh, despite never reading it yourself.
Looking around, Regulus is watching Barty, who is sitting on the long table rather than at it, cast small, mostly-hopefully harmless jinxs on a few older Gryffindors who haven't seemed to notice who's doing it. While Evan is whispering more and more jinxs for Barty to use.
Deciding that you might as well get it over with, you break the wax seal. The letter was nothing but vile, as you expected, the threats, the anger, the disappointment. Yet, you are honestly relieved. Like a huge, bolder is off your back. Sisyphus would envy you.
"And what do you have? A secret admirer? Are you planning on finally leaving the wild beasts you call boyfriends?"
Barty turns his attention to you as you finish reading, snatching the letter to inspect it.
"Ew, is that from your parents?" Evans nose scrunches up, noticing the names signed at the bottom of the parchment when he leans over Bartys shoulder.
"Yeah, I wrote them last week that I'd be staying with the Potters this summer, and they finally got back to me." Your voice remains surprisingly even, despite feeling somewhere between calm and like you're going to vomit, cry, and punch a wall.
Evan and Barty continue to scrutinize the letter, the phrasing, and how your mother writes the letter S weird. While Regulus leans closer to you.
"Everything okay?" His quite, a stark contrast two the boys sitting acorsd from you as Barty pushes his boyfriend off the seat for something or another and Evan kicks a little too close to Bartys dick.
"Yeah, it'll be okay." You hum, scooting closer to the pale boy, "would you and Remus want to come stay at my dorm tonight? At least for a little? Serenella and Iris are both going to be out all night."
"Of course, love. I'll grab Remus after charms and we can meet you there before dinner?" A soft kiss is placed on the top of your head when he finishes his sentence.
"That sounds good."
The peace of the situation is cut off by Barty falling off the table towards you, taking you down to the floor with him.
"God damnit Barty!" A smile far to big for the situation paints your face face.
"Evan threw me, gem! He tried to kill me! I'm wounded." Barty sits half on hus knees, half laid out on the gross Hogwarts in such a pathetic manor Regulus chuckles under his breath.
"And I'll do it again idiot!" Evan sits back on his spot at the long table. Huffing while smoothing out his hair and uniform.
"Oh God, gem, I won't make it." Barty throws himself onto you, your back to the ground as you laugh. "If I die will you leave your loser boyfriends to join me and Evan?"
"Okay, junior, that's enough." Remus appears in your vision, slightly nudging Bartys side, like touching him too long will make whatever is sodding wrong with the boy rub off on him.
"Hello, big boy." Barty stands up and takes you with him, dusting off his and your clothes. "You know, both of you could leave Regulus and-"
"Okay Barty!" Regulus pushes Barty to sit back down, shutting him up as he begins to bicker with Regulus next.
#poly moonwater x reader#poly!moonwater x reader#poly!moonwater#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin imagine#regulus black#remus lupin x you#remus lupin#regulus black x reader#regulus black oneshot#regulus black one shot#regulus black imagine#remus lupin fluff#regulus black fluff#remus lupin angst#regulus black angst#marauders fanfiction#marauders era fic
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A Dog's Best Friend
chris evans x female!reader
summary: Dodger finds his best friend - Chris finds... someone.
note: this is my first fic for Mr. C. Evans :) I'm still going back and forth on if this will be a full series or if it will be a series of one shots but if will for sure have multiple parts!
let me know your thoughts and opinions please!
warnings: meet cute, little bit of fluff, Chris falls hard and fast, swearing
word count: 2262
“Come on, Dodger!” I call to my rescue boxer-mutt as he trots back towards me with his skunk toy. Normally, he is very good at fetch but today he continued to be distracted by the golden retriever who was playing near him. I really can’t blame him though, I am equally as distracted by the owner of this dog.
Stop staring, I remind myself as I force my eyes to Dodger again. I kneel down as he gets closer so I can wrestle the toy away. I watch from the corner of my eye as the girl nearby tosses her dogs ball out into the distance; she’s got an arm, that’s for sure.
Dodger’s wet nose bumping into my face was his subtle reminder that I should be looking at him and not anyone else. “Okay, buddy,” I laugh as I stand up. I toss the skunk off in the same direction as before and watch Dodger happily chase after it.
While I wait for Dodger to come back, I easily fall into the enthralling trap this stranger yielded. I wonder if I’d ever seen her hair color on another person before – the sun really catches it perfectly, illuminating the multitude of different hues and shades that dance between each strand. I wonder what she does for work; her outfit didn’t give too much of a hint: blue jeans that were cuffed at the ankle just above a tan pair of boots with a grey-green shirt tucked into the waist with a long tan coat tossed over the top of it all and loosely tied closed at the front. It was a simple outfit, but nice enough in imply she was going somewhere next; unlike my black joggers paired with a grey workout shirt, white running shoes, a green windbreaker, and a Boston Bruins cap.
I watch her kneel down to greet her pup, “this isn’t yours, silly!” She exclaims, tugging at the skunk that hung from his mouth. Wait, skunk? I look down at Dodger now who sat patiently looking up at me with a ball in his mouth, his tail wagging a thousand miles a minute.
I laugh as I gently take the ball from him; he licks my hand in thanks. “You are such a good wing-man, buddy,” I praise with a gentle pat to his head. I stand straight now, tugging my cap a little bit lower over my eyes to hopefully save the awkwardness of her knowing me immediately and flattening out any wrinkles that may have formed in my jacket.
I walk closer to her as she searches the park for the possible skunk owner. Dodger follows happily at my side, his eyes trained to the ball in my hand. “I think our pups got a bit confused,” I open, trying to keep my voice welcoming and charming; I hold the ball up and give my wrist a slight twist.
She blushes immediately and moves to close more distance between the two of us, reaching her hand forward with the skunk. “I’m sorry about that; I’d say he doesn’t do this often, but that would be a lie,” she grins at me as we trade toys. I wet my lips before grinning back at her, her smile was gorgeous. She is gorgeous. Her eyes seemed to carry specks of a thousand different shades in them and were piercing against the sun that had begun to rise. “He’s got a bad habit of stealing.”
I laugh gently and shrug my shoulders, waving off the apology for her dog. “Don’t worry about it,” I reassure, looking down at Dodger at my feet. “I’m sure it was a mutual trade.” I try to control my expression as I glance back to the girl in front of me, my mind racing with a thousand different observations and questions. I think she chews her lip when she was nervous; even now she had the bottom right corner tucked into her teeth, her jaw flexing slightly as her eyes searched mine. Is she a coffee or tea person? She has really pretty eyes. Does she like road trips? Movies at home or in the theatre? God… her eyes.
“Dodger, right?” She asks, a small smirk playing at her lips as she steps back to toss the ball for her dog. My eyes widen by a sliver as a blush creeps over my cheeks, I’ve been made. I should have introduced myself right away, why try to hide it? Now it just seems like I was intentionally hiding from her – I don’t want to hide from her. Does she think it’s weird for me to be who I am? What if she hates my movies and, in turn, me?
“Uh- y-yeah,” I stutter embarrassed as I turn away and toss the toy for Dodger to run after.
“So, you’re Chris Evans’ dog walker, then?” She asks, her voice carrying the smallest glint of teasing. I smirked softly, looking back at her feeling slightly more comfortable after clocking the joke. Maybe my social status didn’t matter to her. That was nice; most people would have thrown a fit by now.
“Evans couldn’t afford my dog-walking fees,” I joke, winking at her. Did you just wink? What the fuck was that? Are you stupid?
She laughs, her chin falling towards her chest and one hand covering her mouth. The sound literally brought goosebumps to my skin and a warm tightness to my chest. I gulp as I try to control the smile on my face. Keep it friendly, not creepy. “I’m Y/N,” she introduces, sticking her hand out for me to shake. Y/N…
I feel my smile grow slightly as I took her hand in mine, giving her a polite handshake. “Chris,” I reply, keeping my voice cool and collected. Should I have let go of her hand already? How long do you normally shake someone’s hand? How long have we been shaking hands? It feels like hours – her skin is so soft and her hand is so small. I don’t want to let go – what is happening to me?!
She dropped her hand to take the ball from her dog again, tossing it off. I squeezed my now empty hand into a fist, containing her warmth to my palm. Calm down, she’s just a stranger in the park… with a beautiful name and beautiful eyes. “If I’m being honest, I recognized Dodger before you,” she explains as I bend down to grab Dodger’s toy and toss it. “So, either you have this whole ‘Clark Kent’ thing down solid or your dog is more famous than you. I’ll let you decide whichever helps you sleep better at night.”
It’s my turn to laugh, hard, my hand cradling my ribs as I do. It felt freeing and relaxed. I took a few deep breaths as I look back at her. “Thank you for that,” I chuckle, “I need to be humbled now and again.” She grinned at me as the dogs trotted back over to us. I knelt down and held my hand out towards her pup. “And, what’s your name?” I asked in a puppy voice as I scratched his ears.
“Oh god,” she mumbled slightly, covering her eyes embarrassed. I look up at her confused, taking the ball and tossing it off before doing the same for Dodger. “I have never been embarrassed about his name before this moment…” she grumbled, giving me a sheepish grin as I stood back up next to her.
“You’ve got me on the edge of my seat, Y/N,” I laugh softly, suddenly feeling anxious for very different reasons. Did she notice how you basically just moaned her name? You are being fucking creepy, dude.
“His name is Thanos,” she grumbles, hiding her face again. I burst out laughing again, leaning forward and resting my hands on my knees. “I didn’t think I’d meet anyone from the MCU when he was a baby!” She defends before starting to laugh herself.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,” I breath out between chuckles as I try to control myself.
She shook her head at me. “No, please,” she giggles as her hands hide her blushing face again. “It is pretty funny.”
“I guess I’m just disappointed it’s not Rogers or Captain,” I grin at her as the pups came running back to us. “Hi, Thanos!” I cheer, kneeling down to scratch his head again. Dodger, realizing I was busy, went straight to Y/N. She happily bent down to give him so belly rubs before tossing his skunk off – I did the same for Thanos.
“Oh, you’ll just love his brother and sister then…” Y/N mumbles, looking at me embarrassed still.
“What do you mean?” I ask as I straightened up.
“Two cats… Loki and Nebula,” she grins, laughing at herself. Even if I didn’t actually find what she said funny, I’d still be laughing with her. It was contagious, I couldn’t imagine anyone hearing her laugh and not joining in.
Dodger and Thanos returned to our feet quicker this time, yipping at us to stop laughing. “Sorry, guys,” Y/N sighs as she bent down to toss Thanos’ ball. I went to do the same for Dodger but he growled and backed away, wagging his tail as he looks up at Y/N.
“What in the world?” I laugh softly; Y/N bent down and easily took the toy away from him to toss. “Traitor!” I call out as Dodger chased away. “It’s because you’ve got a better arm than me,” I wink again, looking back at Y/N. She blushed and looked down at her feet nervously; she’s adorable when she’s flustered. “So, where are you from?” I ask maybe a little too excitedly.
“What do you mean?” She counters, giving me a pointed look. “I was born and raised here in Boston.” Her serious resolve quickly faded to a grin as she heard the horribly fake accent come from her lips.
“No offense,” I laugh, setting a hand back on my chest to try to comfort my heart that was doing summersaults. “But never do that again.” Always do it – it was adorable.
“Noted,” she chuckles softly. “I am from a super small town in Wisconsin, moved here about a year and a half ago.”
“Ah, Wiz-cahn-sin, eh?” I countered, putting my own midwestern accent into use.
“That’s not fair,” Y/N laughs, playfully pushing my shoulder; I felt the warmth of her skin radiate through my jacket. “It’s part of your job to be able to do accents.”
I smirk at her as I held my hands up defensively. “You’re right,” I admit my defeat happily after seeing her smile. “What’s it like? I have never been to much of the Midwest.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she smiles, tossing both dogs toys now that Dodger was completely ignoring me. “It’s pretty much just farm land everywhere you look, but the people and weather are pretty similar to Massachusetts. Just take all the history from Boston, Salem, and Plymouth and replace it with red-necks, corn, and beer and it’ll be like a typically Tuesday night for me.”
This woman seems to have quite the knack for making me laugh; I can’t remember the last time I laughed so genuinely with someone, it was nice. “What brought you to Boston, then? Needed a break from the red-necks?” I guess with a small smirk.
“Always need a break from the red-necks,” she grins at me. “I got a job at Tufin as a senior project manager for their cybersecurity department. It took me a bit farther from my family than I had planned, but it’s been a welcome change.” I study her facial expression for a moment, she looked sad but not in a bad way. She missed her family, I think.
“It must be hard, being so far away from them,” I glance at her as she tossed the ball for Thanos before he got distracted by wrestling with Dodger playfully. “Do you get home to see them a lot?” Take it slow, play it cool…
“Not really,” she shrugged her shoulders with a sad smile now. “It’s hard to get off work, and the flights aren’t exactly cheap.” She anxiously ran a hand through her hair again. “Holiday’s and special occasions mostly.”
Hug her. Wait, no! Don’t do that, that’s creepy. Fuck, how can I comfort her? Dodger happily rolled onto his back as Y/N scratched his stomach, Thanos was off in the distance chasing a few butterflies. A soft ring echoed from her watch, she frowns as she shut it off.
“Fuck, it’s already 8:30…” she mumbles; I look around anxiously, zipping my coat up and tugging my cap lower onto my forehead. Normally, I would have already made it home by now and avoided any extra interactions. “T!” She calls out with two sharp taps to her hip; Thanos came running at the command. “I’m sorry, I have to drop him off at home before work.” She looked at me apologetically, her smile didn’t reach her eyes fast enough to hide her disappointment.
I felt a pang at my heart as we both clipped the dog’s leashes onto their collars. “Of course,” I smile at her to reassure her, though I doubted it hid my disappointment either. “It was really nice to meet you, Y/N.” Y/N…
“It was nice to meet you too, Chris,” she grinned before turning away and clicking her tongue for Thanos to follow. Wait, don’t go…
“Y/N!” I called out before she got too far away. “I’ll be back here at 7 tomorrow, if you – I mean, uhm…” I stuttered, fuck, fuck, fuck.
She giggled softly and bit her lip, god how beautiful. “I will see you tomorrow then, Chris.”
#chris evans au#chris evans imagine#chris evans x reader#chris evans#chris evans fanfic#chris evans x you#chris evans x female reader#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fluff#a dogs best friend
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Birthday Yandere!William Afton X Reader
I smiled as I walked down the sidewalk to my older sister’s work. She had forgotten her lunch because she was helping our younger brother get ready for school. We had all woken up a bit late, so we rushed Isaac out the door before Trish headed out. I’ll admit it was rough with my sister at work, my brother at school and me taking care of the trailer; we never really got time off to spend with each other. That’s why I was happy to bring Trish her lunch, it would finally give us a chance to chat for a minute or two.
It took me a few more minutes to walk the rest of the sidewalk before reaching the parking lot. Before me stood the only pizzeria in town: Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. It was quite the spectacle even now and was very popular for children’s birthday parties. Trish and I had taken Isaac there for his birthday and he absolutely had a blast. I mean what was there not to love? It had an arcade, pretty good pizza, and singing animatronics! I had never seen anything like that before, it was just so fascinating.
I opened the front door and a little bell went off as I did. Standing by the host desk, I waited for someone to direct me to my sister. “Oh, hello there, Y/n! It’s a pleasure to see you again!”
I looked up to see Henry, one of the owners. Henry was such a nice man. He would watch Isaac and I while we waited for Trish to finish her shift sometimes. He just looked like a teddy bear with his chubby appearance, blonde curly hair and beard, and those black thick rimmed glasses. “Hiya, Henry! Trish forgot her lunch, so I was just delivering it.”
“Oh yeah, of course. She’s a bit busy right now. We had a lunch rush. If you would like, you can wait in the arcade and I can direct her when she has some free time.”
“That would be great. Thanks, Henry!”
“Of course!”
“Mr. Emily, could you come here please”, a female called.
“Excuse me, Y/n.”
Henry walked off to go help, so I headed to the arcade. The blinking lights and loud sound effects was a bit calming to me. It was also fun to see kids be excited over 8-bit pixels. As I watched kids run around, I felt a dark presence looming behind me, almost suffocating. I looked over my shoulder to see a slim figure. I couldn’t quite identify who it was until I fully turned.
Of freaking course.
The man’s skin was a bit pale, and his brunette locks looked unkempt. While he was slim, he still had a broad figure in the shoulders and the scent of cigarette smoke was slight on his white button up. “Miss Y/n, what a pleasant surprise. It’s so lovely to see you.”
Those gray eyes stared down at me, searching my face for some sort of reaction. I felt a shiver go down my spine. “What brings you here? I haven’t seen much of you lately. Or are you just trying to ignore me?”
A smirk played with the corner of his lips and I couldn’t help the gulp that went down my throat. I absolutely hated running into Mr. William Afton. He creeped me out and made me so uncomfortable. “I was bringing T-trish her lunch. S-she forgot it.”
I didn’t even bother with his other questions. If I had, who knows how Mr. Afton would have responded. “Ah, such a great sister! You know, you remind me of my dear Elizabeth. She does her best to protect Evan from Michael. She makes me so proud.”
Something sinister flickered in his eyes and I took a slight step back. “T-thank you?”
He stepped closer, his breath brushing against my face. Even that felt terrible, the brushing feeling like small claws digging into my flesh. Just as he was about to say something, Trish walked in. “There you are, Y/n! Henry said you’d be in here.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Thank God Trish came. She noticed my scared expression and grabbed my hand. Leading me away, I could feel Mr. Afton’s gaze dig into my back. “Thanks for saving me back there, Trish.”
“Of course. Mr. Afton can be a bit creepy at times.”
At times? How about all the time.
To make sure we were far enough away, Trish had walked us over by the host stand. “Now, what is it you came here for?”
“You forgot your lunch at the house again,” I lifted up the brown paper sack.
“Oh Y/n, thanks so much! I completely forgot about it!”
“I know, but you’re a busy lady.”
She gave me a kiss to the cheek. I smiled and looked beyond her shoulder. My eyes widened at seeing Mr. Afton peering through the doorway. His eyes stared at my sister down with such disgust. If looks could kill, she’d be bleeding profusely on the checkered floor. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you and Isaac later, okay?”
“Okay.”
She gave me a kiss on the forehead before taking the sack lunch, quickly sauntering off. I could still feel Mr. Afton’s gaze on me, so I left quickly out the front door.
It wasn’t until 9:00 pm till Trish came home. By then I had retrieved Isaac from school, helped him with his homework, and gotten dinner ready. The three of us sat around the small dining table, munching on some chili. Isaac told us about his school day and Trish told us about work. I just sat quietly. “You know Y/n, your birthday is coming up here in a few weeks. Do you know what you want for a present yet?”
“No and you don’t have to worry. Just being with you two will make me happy.”
“But Y/n”, Isaac replied, “it’s your birthday! You deserve the world!”
I lightly smiled. They were always so sweet to me, but I really didn’t need anything. Quality time with them would be just enough. “At least think it over, okay? Isaac and I want to get you something.”
Trish set her hand on top of mine, giving it a light squeeze.
“Okay.” I only said that to please them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After we finished eating, we cleaned up dinner. The rest of the night we played a couple rounds of cards before heading to bed.
The next couple of weeks went by normally. Trish and Isaac kept asking about what I wanted for my birthday and I always gave the same response. A couple of times I had to go to Freddy’s to give Trish something. During those visits Mr. Afton was being creepy again.
His silver eyes seemed softer around me compared to the harshness they held for his employees.
His hands would linger on my shoulder, his touch light and gentle.
I never seeked him out but he always found me in the restaurant. It felt like we had a red string of fate connected to us and he tugged until he was near.
He even suggested I work at the pizzeria, but I immediately turned him down. No way was I going to work alongside him and his creepy behavior.
He just made me feel sick.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time flew by and soon enough it was my birthday. The morning was spent having my favorite breakfast before we headed to the park. We walked around a bit and just had fun. At some point Trish had to leave to get something for later tonight (probably a cake), so Isaac and I headed back to the house. We played some card games, board games, watched TV and read together.
The hours ticked by and while we had fun, we hadn’t heard from Trish. I was starting to get worried. Freddy’s wasn’t too far from our house and she always called when she was on her way home. No, something must have happened.
“Isaac, I want you to stay here. I’m going to go look for Trish.”
“But I want to come with!”
“Somebody needs to be here in case she calls. Can you do that for me?”
He nodded. “Good. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I gave him a kiss to the forehead and quickly threw on some shoes. Heading out the door, I went as fast as I could to the pizzeria. Please let Trish be okay! Please!
I threw open the front door and skidded to a stop in the middle of the dining room. “Trish! Trish, where are you?!”
Suddenly, the eerie tune of Happy Birthday carried through the halls. I whipped my head around when I heard footsteps, my eyes widening when I saw a yellow rabbit headed right for me. I tried to move but as soon as I did the bunny grasped my hand, tugging me down the hall. “H-hey! Let go of me! Trish! Trish!”
I was dragged down a dim hallway, yelling at this thing to let me go. It opened a door and suddenly we were in a backroom of the restaurant. I was slightly pushed into the room, the door locking behind us. Even though I was frightened of what the rabbit would do, I forced myself to look around the room.
I really wish I hadn’t.
The room had been decorated for a birthday party. Streamers and balloons hung from every possible place; a birthday sign hung on the wall; a small table with a festive cloth sat in the middle with a birthday cake. The candles were lit and sitting next to it was my sister. Her head was tilted towards her chest and her hair blocked her face. “TRISH!”
I ran over and lifted her head up.
My eyes widened.
My breath caught in my throat.
My hands shook.
I let out a shrill scream.
Across Trish’s neck was a deep cut, thick blood running down the front of her shirt. Her eyes were glassed over and she looked like she was in pain. A dark chuckle made me look at the yellow bunny and that’s when I saw the blood stains. “Y-you! How could you?! Show yourself!”
And so it did. The thick gloved hands unclipped the grotesque cartoon head and pulled up.
I could have died right there.
Standing in front of me with a wide grin was Mr. Afton.
“Surprise~”
“I-I-”
“Speechless? No matter. There will be plenty of time for us to talk, my dear.”
“W-what do you mean? Why did you kill Trish? She never did anything to you!”
He looked offended at that comment. “Of course she did. She kept us apart. Can’t you see? We belong together. After all, I put so much effort into this relationship so far. I’d hate for my flirtation to go to waste.”
I gasped.
No.
No way was this murderer and I meant to be together!
I ran for the door but Mr. Afton pulled me into a tight embrace against his costume. I screamed and struggled in his grip. He just held tight. “I see you are not in the mood for a party right now. That’s okay. We can have our own celebration at home.”
“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!”
“Sorry about this, love.”
“Wha-”
My head was thrust at the wall and suddenly pain shot through my skull. The room was spinning and soon I blacked out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I groaned as my eyes slowly opened. My head was just pounding and the cool cloth on my head was nice. “Finally starting to wake, my dear?”
I peered to my left and saw Mr. Afton sitting in a chair next to the bed I was on top of. He was out of the horrid costume and was now sporting a dark purple dress shirt and dark gray striped pants. “W-where am I?”
“Home.” He let his fingers stroke the top of my forehead into my scalp.
I whined and tried to move away but the mad man was quick to grab me. He held me down and in my blurry state I tried to get away. “There’s no point in escaping, my love. You are mine and I am yours. We’re going to be together forever.”
“N-no! I don’t want that!”
“You’ll get used to it, my dear.”
“Mr. Afton-”
“Call me William. After all, we're past the formalities phase.”
With that he leaned down and gave my cheek a kiss. I threw my head to the right, not wanting to look at him. However, his fingers wrapped around my chin and forced my head back to him. “I’m being very generous, love.”
That woke me up.
“Generous? Generous?! You made advances towards me when I made no indication I liked you. Y-you killed my sister for God’s sake!”
I thrashed around and William had to hold me down tighter. “Let go!”
“Come now, darling. Behave. It’s still your birthday, don’t you want to celebrate?”
“Not with you! I hate you! I hate you, William!”
A deep smirk set on his face and his eyes softened. “I love it when you say my name.”
He leaned down and kissed my lips. I struggled against him and bit his lip. He pulled back and licked lip, the blood going into his mouth. He smiled wide.
“Happy Birthday, soon to be Mrs. Afton.”
#yandere#yanderexreader#xreader#fnaf#fnaf x reader#yandere fnaf#fnaf x y/n#yandere x y/n#yandere five nights at freddy's#five nights at freddy's#fanfiction#william afton#yandere william afton
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James' in a hurry, running the corridors of the castle without much attention. He's terribly late to his class with McGonagall. His breathing is already a bit labored, he's been running quite a bit, the place he was and his class are on completely opposite sides of the castle.
And James forgot all about when he went there, but fuck if he's not remembering next time.
He bursts through the classroom's door, his wand thrown hastily somewhere in his backpack, alongside his books. His glasses are a little bit crooked from all the running, he sets them right and looks up to Minnie's stern gaze. He throws at her a little, sheepish grin. And her gaze softens just a little.
"I'm really sorry, Professor!" He says, and remembers the rest of his clothes, they're messy just like his hair. He tries to fix his tie, while putting his things on his seat next to Sirius. Sirius, who's looking at him like he's grown a second head, but amused all the same. It makes James frown a little, confused. Then, he hears Minnie's voice again, in the dead silent classroom:
"Mr. Potter, I was not aware of your resort into another House." She says, and looks pointedly to his tie, and James looks down with her. And— oh. It's a green tie. Slytherin tie. He can feel his face heating up the more she looks. He bites his lips and hears his classmates laugh a little, sees Sirius at his side laughing too, and he already knows he will never live it down.
"I—" James starts, but never finishes. There's another commotion on the classroom door he just came through, he looks up and it's him.
Regulus. He and his friends are standing at the door, James' red, Gryffindor's tie clutched tight in his hands. His face is also red, just like James' and his tie, and his beautiful curly hair is a mess. James can also see Barty, Evan, Pandora and Dorcas behind him. They're laughing just like everyone, and Evan gives Regulus a little push that makes him completely enter the room. He gets even more red.
"Excuse me, Professor. I came to get my— my tie." He stutters a little, and says it in a small voice. He's looking everywhere but James and Minnie. Regulus' blushing is already spreading down his pale neck, and James can't take his eyes off him. He's so bloody pretty, James thinks. There's a love bite escaping the collar of his uniform shirt, his top buttons still undone from where James' hands and mouth passed through earlier.
"May as well, Mr. Black. And make sure this will not happen again." Minnie says, waving her wand hand in James' direction. James, who hasn't moved since he saw Regulus again. He bites his bottom lip again, waiting as if rooted in his place for Regulus to come to him. And he does.
He brings his hands to James' tie— no, his tie—, and slides it off James' neck, and looks at him in the eyes, then. And he fixes James' shirt, smooths it down, buttons it up, and wraps James' tie on him correctly, instead of just throwing the red tie back to James, like he could've done. But no. He did it with the same care he does everything when it comes to James, like he needs to be careful or he'll ruin them. He already has, James thinks. Regulus does it naturally, quickly, presses his lips into a flat line and then he looks away. Oh. He seems to have done it unconsciously, James realizes.
James' blushes harder, if that's possible.
Then, Regulus takes a step back. Clears his throat, and looks at the Minnie, red like a strawberry, he bows politely.
"I apologize for interrupting your lesson, Professor. And yes, I shall make sure it won't happen again." He says in his posh, polite way. Even if he's embarrassed, he's still the most polite and composed boy he always is. And, Merlin, James loves him so much. Regulus wets his lips, looks up, clears his throat again and looks at James, eyes full of mischief. "We shall make sure it won't happen again, shall we not, James?"
Damn him. Only calling James his first name in public in a situation like this. It steals James' breath away. No, Regulus does. He wants everything from James, and James hands it over willingly.
"I— Yeah. Yeah, love. Whatever you say." James says back, still feeling inebriated by this boy. James' absolutely weak for the way his name rolls out of Regulus' bitten red lips. It's absolutely happening again. All of it. He just knows. And Regulus does, too. He smirks at James, even if his blush, that was going away, comes back brighter, acts like it's nothing, and looks away from James again.
James sighs. He wants him so much. All of him.
"Then, please excuse us, Professor. I'll be on the way to my own class. Apologies again." Regulus says, all polite again to Minnie, who nods at him, and then he's going for the door. He doesn't say anything else, even if he swats his hands at his laughing friends, who were waiting for him outside the classroom. He glances back to James once, and closes the door. James sighs again, quietly.
He's still looking at the door when he's startled by a voice that he knows all too well, coming from beside him.
"This is the most put-together your uniform has been all year, Prongs. Enjoying my little brother doing your tie now, are we?" Sirius drawls, very much like his brother likes to do and glares at James.
Fuck. Fuck.
#sorry i love this trope#they were absolutely snogging before this#also reggie red like a strawberry is funny to me ok#james' living the high of his life every time he sees regulus i love it#wrote this really quick dont look too much into it#also english not my first language and all that#marauders#jegulus#james potter#regulus black#james fleamont potter#regulus arcturus black#harry potter#harry potter marauders#sirius will be demanding an explanation#i love him dearly#tie swap#starchaser#sunseeker#minerva mcgonagall
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Lovely Little Bunny
A/N: The first thing I’ve written in over a year and we’re going straight in, kiddos. Inspired by many a slutty conversation with my lovely bffs and moots @nsfwsebbie and @tellmealovestory i love you both bunches!
Pairing: Silver Fox!Lawyer!Chris Evans x Reader
Warnings: Smut. 18+ only, Oral (m & f rec), P in V, unprotected sex, Daddy Kink, Sexting, age gap, pet name (Bunny). I think that’s everything.
Moodboard by me: I don’t own any of the pictures.
Please do not copy, translate, rewrite, or repost my work on any other platforms!
It started out innocent enough. Chris had been your father’s lawyer for years, helping the wealthy influential Mob Boss get out of trouble with the law without so much as a scratch to his reputation. The two of you had always exchanged flirty glances, you wore skirts that were just a little too short, and he would leave the top buttons of his shirt open, giving you a peek of the tattoos and light smattering of chest hair that crossed his skin.
Until one sunny summer afternoon he slipped you the number to his personal cell phone. It was wrong, you were just fresh out of college and he had been in practice longer than you’d been alive. But something about the glisten of that silver hair, always styled just so, the matching silver beard, and those sparkling blue eyes made it impossible to say no. Which is how you found yourself buried under your covers, hiding the light of your phone screen, as the two of you exchanged filthy texts into the wee hours of the morning.
C.E.: Wear that little blue dress tomorrow. The puffy one, love when it rides up and I see those sweet little panties. Makes me wanna bend you over the desk, hear you make all those pretty sounds for me. Bet you’d like that. Me using you, making sure everyone in the office knows who you belong to.
You smirk and rub your thighs together to stave off your growing arousal. He’s never gone beyond filthy texts and the occasional picture or video, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t something you craved everytime he walked into the house smelling of expensive cologne and bad decisions.
Bunny: Hmm I don’t know if I feel like wearing a dress tomorrow. Pop doesn’t like the boys lookin at me when we come to your office
You quickly press send before you can change your mind. Biting your lip as the typing bubble appears almost instantly.
C.E.: Maybe I won’t let you cum then. Thought about getting us a hotel room this weekend in the city but if you wanna be a bad girl…
You let out a soft whimper at his words. Before you can reply a video is appearing on the screen. A darkened room, his hard cock the only thing illuminated by the flash. You grab your headphones and quickly stuff them in your ears before pressing play. His heavy breathing is the first sound you hear, followed by the lewd sounds of his spit slick cock.
“Fuck bunny, look what you do to me. Wish your mouth was on this cock right now,” Chris growls. You hear him spit in his hand before going back to stroke his cock even harder. The video cuts off right as he lets out a loud groan, white ropes of his spend landing on his tummy and happy trail.
C.E.: Well Bunny, I better get to bed. You should too. I’ll see you at the office bright and early with your dad. xo
You can’t sleep, tossing and turning, thinking about the filth that Chris sent you. Eventually you end up watching the video again while shoving your hand between your thighs, you bring yourself to that ethereal high.
**
Brushing the skirt of your dress you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You take the file your father sent you with and walk into the lush law office.
“Well good morning!” Hannah chirps from the front desk and you give a small wave.
“Just here to see Mr. Evans. Dad sent some files with me.” You hold up the thick envelope and she nods.
“He’s waiting for you,” She gestures to the open door and you thank her.
“Close the door.” Chris commands smoothly. You smile, face heating up as you close the large door with a click. “Lock it,” He approaches you from behind, large hands resting on your upper arms, he’s inhaling the scent of your shampoo with a deep breath.
“I told your dad not to come. Told him I had a meeting this morning. Couldn’t stand not touching you any longer,” He confesses in a low grumble. You shiver, letting out a soft moan.
He smells of coffee and his cologne, your head is already spinning with filthy thoughts. You turn around in his grasp, cupping his silver stubbled cheek. He smiles down at you, brushing your hair back from your face he’s leaning down and taking your lips in a kiss. Your toes curl in your shoes as you kiss him back eagerly. The thick file in your hand drops to the floor, your arms encircling his neck.
“You want this here? Now?” He rasps, pulling back and looking down at you with lust blown eyes. You nod, pushing him back toward his desk. He’s leaning against the edge and you’re kissing him again, more insistently.
His hands slip down your body to cup your ass. He’s bunching your dress at your hips, long fingers playing with the elastic of your simple panties. Before you can start undressing him he’s picking you up, flipping you around and laying you on the desk.
“Such a pretty little thing, gonna make you cum so hard you cry.” Chris promises, licking his lips he’s pulling off your panties, tucking them in his back pocket. He’s parting your legs, spitting on your folds. Using his thick fingers he’s spreading your juices and his spit. You whine softly, hips bucking.
“Aww baby, you’re so desperate. Don’t worry, daddy’s gonna take good care of you,” Chris coos, kissing your forehead he’s moving down to kneel between your legs.
“Such a pretty cunt, can’t believe I didn’t get you alone sooner,” He purrs, tongue flattening against your center he’s licking slowly.
“Oh god, Chris!” You gasp, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. He stills his motions.
“What the fuck did you call me?” He sneers, slapping your pussy lightly making you jump. Your eyes widen and you let out a little whimper.
“Daddy! Daddy! I’m so sorry!” You plead, hips bucking up, desperate for his touch.
“That’s what I thought,” He chuckles, slipping his ring and middle fingers inside you he’s curling them upwards. Stars are exploding behind your eyes and you let out a loud moan.
“Oh fuck! Daddy!”
Chris is pumping his fingers in and out of you, tongue flicking over your clit slowly.
“Never had such a sweet pussy,” Chris groans, lewdly sucking your clit. His fingers curl up and you let out a breathy whine.
You feel your orgasm building with every pass of his tongue and you know it won’t take long to push you over the edge. Just as you start to clench, breathing coming heavy and short, he stops.
You bolt upright on the desk with a scowl. Chris is lewdly sucking your juices from his fingers, not breaking eye contact with you.
“Taste so sweet. Already addicted to this cunt,” He growls, standing up, towering over you. Your walls flutter around nothing and you whimper softly.
“You want me to fuck you? Want me to ruin you for any other man? Huh? Wanna be mine?” His lips turn up in a smirk when you nod eagerly, maybe too eagerly. He’s unbuttoning his dress shirt, the dark ink of his tattoos being exposed with every button. You reach a hand up and stroke the intricate lines. He hisses when you drag a nail down the center of his chest.
“Mmm sure you can keep up old man?” You wink with a soft giggle. He’s on you in an instant, pressing you into the hard mahogany of the desk.
“Oh I think it’s you that needs to worry about keeping up,” He growls. He’s making quick work of his slacks, hard cock slapping against his lower stomach. You gasp softly, hand wrapping gently around his length. You’re stroking slowly, admiring the way his face contorts as you wipe your thumb across the tip of his cock.
“Stop. Stop. Stop.” He’s panting, pushing your hand away. “Gotta be inside you when I cum, pretty girl,” He explains with one of those blinding smiles.
You scoot back a little on the desk. He’s climbing over the top of you, caging you in with his thick arms.
“Gonna ruin you now, sweetheart.” His Boston accent is thick and you shiver in delight.
“Wanted this for so long,” You confess, legs wrapping around his waist you’re pulling him closer.
“How long honey? Hmm? Be honest..” He goads, smirking at you. You’re squirming under his gaze but he’s holding you still. “Come on bunny. Be honest..”
“S-Since that first summer I came home from college,” You confess, biting down on your bottom lip.
“Well I better fuck you real good, cause you’ve been such a patient little girl, waiting for me,” He chuckles, pinching your cheek. You giggle softly, face heating up.
His gaze drops to your core, he’s lining up his cock and sinking in. He bottoms out with a loud grunt and your eyes flutter, you’re in heaven. The stretch is bordering on painful as he begins thrusting slowly. But it soon gives way to pleasure. He’s bending your knees, planting your feet on the desk so he can drive even deeper into you.
“Oh god! Oh fuck! It’s in my tummy!” You’re whimpering, eyes slammed shut.
Chris’ hand snakes between your writhing bodies, his thick fingers strumming your clit expertly. He’s leaning down, teeth dragging along the side of your neck as he picks up his thrusts. The lewd sounds of his balls clapping against your ass, and your pathetic whines create the perfect symphony to your tryst.
“So fucking tight,” Chris growls, fingers digging so deep into your skin you know you’ll be wearing his prints for days. Your walls are fluttering around his cock, your hands are grabbing at his shoulders, the material of his shirt slipping underneath your sweat soaked palms.
“Who owns this cunt huh? You gonna let those stupid college boys in here again?” He’s growling. You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks.
“No! No daddy! It’s yours!” You’re sobbing. You feel that blissful end slowly approaching, your hands are clenching themselves into fists.
“Look at me, look at me when you cum. I wanna see how good I make you feel,” He’s pinching your cheeks together, forcing you to look in his eyes. The once baby blue orbs are dark and wild with lust.
Your open palm slams on the desk as your orgasm comes crashing into you. Your walls are clenching around his cock, nails digging into his clothed biceps.
“That’s it baby girl, oh fuck, gonna cum okay? Gonna fill you up,” Chris is panting next to your ear. You’re nodding, words dying on the tip of your tongue as the pleasure overwhelms you.
It only takes a handful of thrusts before he’s spilling inside you. Filling your tummy, he’s kissing you deeply, tongue sliding with yours.
“On your knees,” He growls in your ear, sliding out and tugging you onto the floor. You look up at him, confused.
“What? Why?” Your hands are resting on his thighs, lashes fluttering innocently. Chris is sliding the tip of his cock along your lips, smearing your combined release.
“Be a good girl and clean up your mess.”
Tagging: @dontshootmespence @tellmealovestory @nsfwsebbie @sagechanoafterdark
#chris evans#Silver Fox!Chris Evans#Lawyer!Chris Evans#Chris Evans Smut#chris evans fanfic#Chris Evans x Reader#Chris Evans x You#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans one shot
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Health and Hell
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
A/N: Genuinely love how much attention these are getting ty and ily everyone 😭🫶🏼 reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated but not required🫶🏼 (please gimme some fanfic title suggestions in the asks or inbox!/nf)
Summary//Joseph and Violet bonding before his diagnosis & death (I haven't hit episode 4 yet cause I keep rewatching Billy calling out Henry for stealing from Kathleen im sorry 😭)
Cw// foreshadowing Joseph's death, Billy being his own warning again, Billy being emotionally not there, talk of death, whore mention
Billy stood by Mr. Upson, waiting for Violet. He had asked her yesterday to stop by and watch over Joseph while his ma worked, and he was at the ranch until he could get the doctor to come look at him about his nasty cough. He trusted Violet more than anyone, aside from his ma, to look after Joe and considering Antrim was nowhere to be found, he knew that Violet would be a better choice.
"Good mornin' sir, mornin' Billy," came her voice, and Billy looked up. He looked puzzled to see her in a dress. Her bright red hair was in a braid, which was in some kind of bun, and being held together by a dark pastel green ribbon. Her hair and eyes were complimented by her different shades of pastel green dress, which made her look quite beautiful.
"Mornin', Violet," He greeted, turning to her and taking off his hat in respect towards her. "Mr. Upson, this is Violet Evans. Violet, this is Mr. Ash Upson—he's takin' me to a rancher, Billy Matthews, to see about a job."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Upson," Violet replied, smilin politely to him as she shook his hand after he took off his hat in respect to her as well.
"The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Evans," Upson said with a gentle smile.
Billy smiled faintly at the two before leading Violet to meet Kathleen. He found her getting her shoes on and smiled a little more; seeing his ma always made him smile no matter the consequences.
"Ma, this is Violet—she's gonna watch over Joe til we can get the doctor," He said when she looked up.
Violet smiled and waved to Kathleen. "Hi, ma'am."
"Oh, why hello, Violet. I thought you weren't coming until later, but thank you so much for acceptin' to look after Joseph," Kathleen said with a gentle yet worrisome smile. She didn't want to feel like she was putting pressure on a girl that she barely knew.
"I'm just happy to help," Violet reassured with a gentle nod as the two led her upstairs to Billy and Joseph's room.
The harsh hacking and coughing almost brought tears to Violet's eyes. She hated seeing little kids sick—it made her heart hurt because no kid should deserve to suffer to painfully. Violet grimaced a little, remembering how she lost one of her friends to consumption (she was also whores but that wasn't what killed her).
"Hey, Joe."
The sudden appearance of Billy's voice, sound soft and comforting, snapped Violet out of her memory of her friend. She watched from the threshold as Billy told Joseph about Violet and he soon gestured for her to come in.
She walked into the room, sitting in the now empty chair.
Billy and Kathleen left the pair to head off to work and the ranch, leaving them in complete silence.
"Hey, Joseph," Violet greeted softly, brushing some of his dark hair from his face. Her tone was much calmer and collected compared to how she spoke the day before—it wasn't rough and tough. It was gentle and ladylike.
"Hi, Ms. Evans..." The young boy responded before falling into a series of hacking coughs once more. Violet wanted to hold this poor boy and hug him tightly. He was too sweet, too young.
"No need to call me Ms. Evans, buddy. You can just call me Violet," She commented, putting the wet rang, which she had seen on the tin tub on the dresser, on his forehead to hopefully help with his fever.
After a few moments if silence, Joseph spoke up.
"Billy would like you as his girl. Real pretty lookin'; you look real tough too," He murmured, earning a soft giggle from the older woman.
"What makes you say that I'm tough?" She inquired, smiling a bit*
"Those cuts along your nose, Vi. Only a real tough girl would have her scars out in the open."
Violet's smile faded for a moment. She forgot to hide her scars.
"Oh- why thank you, Joe." Her voice was still gentle and soft, not wanting to make him think he made her angry or upset.
As the hours went on, the two had grown close. Joseph was telling her about stories of his life with Billy and Kathleen. She was telling him tales of how she'd grown up in Silver City, aside from her trauma, and how she'd sometimes dress as a boy to play poker and help Jesse with work instead of waiting for some marriage proposal from some sleazy guy.
Joe was having more fun talking with Violet than he'd ever had since his family left New York. He felt happy, even with his awful coughs and occasional vomiting.
#billy the kid#billy the kid smut#billy the kid x reader#billy the kid x you#coriolanus smut#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coryo smut#coryo snow#tom blyth x reader#coryolanus snow#coriolanus x you#coryo x reader smut#coryo x reader#billy the kid x reader smut#billy the kid tv drama#spotify#kathleen antrim#kathleen mccarty#billy mccarty#cowboy#joseph mccarty#joseph antrim#henry antrim#jesse evans#ash Upson#rest in peace joseph antrim
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after dark ⋆ andy barber (part 3)
dark!neighbor!andy barber x camgirl!reader, ft. devin peters x camgirl!reader
word count ⋆ 2.1k
warnings ⋆ smut! minors dni, cheating (laurie is cheating on andy, andy is implied to be cheating/will cheat) reader sends a video where she’s giving devin head, fingering, degradation, squirting, daddy kink, implied murder oop— ft. devin peters: oral sex (m receiving), slight degradation.
authors note ⋆ I HAD TO SWITCH ANDY FROM SOFT!DARK TO JUST DARK!ANDY YALL IN FOR A RIDE I WAS JUST WRITING THIS AND I WENT DOWN A DARK PATH SO HERE IT IS FINALLY PART 3
+ reminder of who devin peters is, he’s chris evans’ character in the movie don’t look up!
don’t forget to give me some love, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.
previous part
shit, shit, shit!
as soon as andy scurried back into his home, he peeled through the curtain of the window near laurie’s favorite sofa— the one she was currently on.
“I need a ride to my yoga class, andy.” she spoke as she typed away on her phone, laughing at the texts she was receiving from a friend.
yoga class, sure.
he watched as you stood in place, dumbfounded before the movie star tugged you back towards the house, practically pawing at your breasts for attention.
you giggled as he kissed and sucked at your neck, shoving him away to play hard to get, took one last glance at mr. barber’s house, and sighed, convincing yourself it was most definitely a coincidence.
andy, on the other hand, was losing his mind.
-
so, you were living next door, what could he do about it? go up to the door and give a polite hello, make small talk and confess how he’s been touching himself to you for the past 4 months?
maybe how he’s dreamt constantly of pounding you into his mattress as you drool on his sheets, neither of you knowing whether you’re begging him to stop or keep ruining your hole.
“…andy! here’s fine!” andy hit the breaks, the wheel’s screech pulling him from his thoughts as laurie opens the door without a simple thank you or goodbye, running up to her friends.
he began to drive off, reaching for his phone, unlocking it and grinning for what he was challenging himself to do.
“hey, SIRI, uh, sex shops near me.”
-
NEXT DAY
tears had dried on your cheeks as you caught your breath, letting your boyfriend tease your lips with the tip of his cock.
“look at you, all hungry for this dick.” he hummed, his free hand holding up your phone, filming your every move.
you said you’d airdrop it to him later, but you had other plans for this home video.
“fuckin’ slut..” you shut your eyes to avoid rolling them, the degradation just didn’t come naturally with him, oh, but with mr. barber.
if your neighbor was indeed your favorite subscriber, he was in for a treat.
“why’s a mr. barber texting you on your site?I thought you didn’t entertain those freaks on your live chat?” devin pulled you from your thoughts when a notification pinged on the top of your screen.
wrapping your lips around his veiny cock, you sucked harshly, distracting him from the text message as he gasped out, hand forcing your head down as he began to fuck your throat in a sloppy manner.
the wet gagging noises sent him over the edge, overflowing your mouth with his sticky load— wasn’t the best taste. although, it still made your mind stray to how mr. barber—
“let me see it.” he groaned, cupping your cheek with a softness you hated.
you couldn’t make up your mind about this guy, no matter how many millions of dollars laid on his dollars
sure, he was an admired actor, celebrity crush to many, and you had him at your beck and call.
but you were insatiable.
you had daydreamed of becoming his girl, riding him in his luxurious cars, and being the pretty little thing on his arm at movie premieres, red carpets, you name it.
but hollywood was ruthless to girl with a job like yours.
maybe starring on the big screen and having paparazzi shadow you wasn’t your thing, but being loved after dark was, and you were okay with that.
opening your mouth, you revealed his load before you swallowed it, glancing up at him for some sort of praise but he just exhaled, sinking into the sofa as he put his softening penis away.
you snatched your forgotten phone from the couch and saved the video before reading the text message, feeling your heart drop to your stomach.
barber543
hello neighbor.
-
andy hid the newly purchased box of sex toy items under the bed, his chest swelled with pride when he imagined how ruined he’d leave you by the end of the night, have you begging for him to stay, to touch your sweet pussy again, and again, til you couldn’t bare another orgasm.
official-kitten
there’s no way it’s you
he chuckled, he could just picture your cute expression of brows furrowed together, biting at your inner cheek.
barber543
come over and find out.
andy was always the type to take charge of a situation, but he was positive you’d be his tonight. and every night after that.
-
swallowing hard at mr. barber’s recent message, you slid your back down against the bathroom wall, thumbs dancing across the screen.
official-kitten
I’m busy daddy
🎥 0:45
your heart pounded in your ears as you linked the video devin filmed of you, and sent it— it was a russian roulette, you had absolutely no clue what he’d say—
barber543
not even a minute?
did he return the favor? or are you just a cocksleeve.
bet he didn’t even touch you
his punctuation made you giggle, but your hand began to slither down beneath your panties, ghosting over your clit.
official-kitten
he didn’t even make me wet :(
barber543
I’m not surprised.
I’m guessing you’re all needy. and pathetic.
official-kitten
don’t be mean :(
your middle finger and ring finger began to rapid circle on your clit, the sight of your hand moving beneath your underwear made your heart race.
barber543
you don’t know half of it, princess.
come over, or I’ll fuck you stupid in front of your friend.
removing your fingers before you came, you breathed heavily, smiling at the texts as you stood up with a rush, exiting the bathroom as you called out for devin who had made himself busy in the kitchen.
“what’s up, babe?” he chewed on a simple ham sandwich, scrolling through his twitter feed, mostly raising his ego with all the complements and praise thrown his way.
“you need to leave, now.” you shoved his beanie into his chest as he frowned, scoffing.
“i need to do my skin-care routine, do my mani-pedi, you know,” you rambled nervously, but he came to be truly understanding, kissing your forehead.
“fine, fine! send me the video, dollface.” he walked out the door, inhaling the fresh boston air, looking around the calm neighborhood til he made eye contact with the man they’d encountered earlier.
andy waved at the celebrity with full intent of fucking you into his mattress, the bedroom floor, the kitchen counter, and laurie’s pitiful garden in the front yard.
“hey, y/n,” devin called over his shoulder, still narrowing his eyes at the floofy haired man, as you waltzed over to him, glancing up at him, “don’t go on stream tonight. got a feeling there’s gonna be some creeps on the live.”
“sure thing, devy,” you stepped on your tippy toes to lay a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “I’ve got other plans.”
-
you applied your gloss, extremely giddy to finally meet the man who had been paying for quite literally everything you could dream of.
you wondered what he did for a living, how he stumbled upon your live stream and if he thought about you daily.
what if he was a psychopath? you had lost count of how many people you had blocked due to their obsession with you, driving you to the point to being constantly paranoid, always glancing over your shoulder and double checking your door at night.
fuck it.
shutting your door on your way out, you fiddled with your fingers, cracking your knuckles which had been a nervous habit of yours.
til someone pulled up to the driveway.
it was a woman, brunette, with a disconsolate look on her face.
of course, he had a wife. why weren’t you surprised? most of the good ones were taken.
“oh! hello..” the woman wiped her drippy nose on her wrist, hugging herself as she stood in front of you, waiting for you to present yourself.
“i’m [y/n], lila’s friend. I’m house-sitting and i just- I can’t seem to, uh…“
“get the washing machine to start? cindy always has that problem, but luckily, my husband andy helps her out. it happens at least every week.” your jaw clenched at the information, feeling yourself turn green with envy, but your heart stopped when the man of the hour stepped out to the driveway, locking eyes with you.
“honey, lila’s friend here needs help with the washer, go.” she sniffled, causing andy to cup her cheek and angle her face up, allowing him to see her bloodshot eyes.
“what happened? where’s jacob, is he okay?” laurie nodded her head, clearing his anxiety a bit til he caught her left hand— ring finger, completely bare.
“we need to talk.” laurie muttered as andy wrinkled his nose at the scent of another man’s cologne on her.
“I’ll just-“
“no!” you and laurie whipped your heads at him, making him breath out a laugh as he reached for your hand— time froze, not just for you.
“I’ll help you first, I just need to get some tools. give her something to drink, laurie.” before you knew it, you began following him and his wife into his home, wondering what scheme he had planned.
he gently closed the door behind you, not missing the chance to place his hand on your lower back, leading you into the kitchen, pouring you a glass of deep red wine, ignoring how his wife had excused herself to the upstairs bathroom.
alas, the two of you were alone.
slowly with a hint of intimidating, he began to corner you against the counter as you look down at your feet with natural submission, making him chuckle and hold your chin between his pointer and thumb.
“wait for me upstairs, second room on the right.” you glanced up at him with a parted jaw, “I want you playing with your pussy, legs spread, only wearing this shirt. go.” his command made you raise an eyebrow.
“you can’t tell me what to do.” your bratty response made him scoff as his hand slipped beneath your pajama shorts, cupping your mound as his middle finger dragged against your clothed slit, making you shiver.
“no? you sure about that?” he smirks at the wet spot on your panties, watching you squirm, in person? fuck, you couldn’t let you go. ever.
“tell daddy what you’re gonna do for him,” he whispers, his pulse accelerating when your trembling hand rose to caress his beard.
“I’m gonna play with my pussy and wait for him. and then, I’m gonna let him do whatever he wants to me,” you whimpered when he pinched at your clit, “let daddy use me and my holes.”
you were a damn menace with your words.
“you’ll be daddy’s cumrag?” he suggested as his hard-on grew against his slacks, compelling him to grind desperately against your stomach.
“yes, please,” you dragged out as looked up at him with lust filled eyes, leaning against him, feeling a bit lightheaded.
“and let me shove my cock in this little pussy when I feel like it?“ pushing aside your panties, his fingers began pistoning past your velvet walls, adoring the immediate debauched look on your face before he kissed your soft lips for the first time.
“anything you want— fuck!”
“beg for your daddy, kitten, beg for daddy to taste your pussy,” the squelching noises, his alluring voice, it was too much.
“fuck! daddy- m’ gonna squirt, ah! pleaseplease-“ he was quick to keep you from falling to your knees, grunting when your legs violently shook, your cunt spurting your juices on his cupped hand.
“my kitten, all mine,” he growled, his pink lips attacking your bare neck, sucking and nipping at your skin as you attempted to even your breath, but you still felt unsatisfied.
you needed to be fucked.
“want your dick, please, please,” you babbled out, your hands moved with a mind of their own, desperately wanting to touch him but he laughed, continuing to rub your slit.
“you’re a little slut, my wife’s in the house! what if she heard you?” he asked with a grin, removing his wet hand and beginning to lead to you out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“hurts! I need to feel you inside me,” you pawed at his belt, making him sigh in content before he clutches your cheeks in his hand, it smelled of your scent.
“then fucking wait for me upstairs. second room on the left.” he demanded through gritted teeth, watching you scamper what was left of the staircase.
he rushes to the kitchen, grabbing the first knife he could get his hands on and heads back upstairs with an emotionless façade.
he couldn’t have anymore distractions tonight.
his job was to fuck you as many times you begged him to, and claim you as him.
“laurie, I’m ready to talk!” he calls out to his wife for the last time, gripping at what was to become a murder weapon.
well, only if the police found out.
┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛
a/n; oh y/n, now he’ll never let you go.
#kali writes !#andy barber#andy barber angst#andy barber smut#andy barber fluff#andy barber x reader smut#andy barber x reader#andy barber x female reader#chris evans#chris evans smut#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x reader#dark!andy barber#dark!andy barber x reader#dark!andy barber x female reader
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Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 19
chapter 33:
1. awwww being close to sirius again is the best part of reg’s life now
2. “James nearly breaks his fucking neck to do a double-take as soon as Regulus is led out again. If he was a dog, his ears would be standing straight up in intense interest. Sirius whacks him on the back of his head in what seems to be a reflex, most likely because James is doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he's currently undressing Regulus with his eyes.”
😭😭😭 james, keep it in your pants
3. i love that when people are jokingly mean to james, the first thing he does is call for his mum. he’s such a momma’s boy
4. james and reg being dressed up pretty <3333
5. effie and monty 💕💕🥰🥰
6. i love everyone teasing james and regulus for their crushes. they’re so funny 😭😭
7. oh. james leaving a flower at the door everyday is reg’s reason for getting up in the morning
8. their disabilities are not being ignored!!!!
9. i- they’re gonna have to visit the districts of all their friends from the arena, knowing that they walked those same streets and breathed that same air, and have to be fine
10. 😧 district twelve was where remus lived. i- sirius is not gonna do well
11. plsss lyall is so scared of why sirius would be knocking at his door
12. stop, this conversation with lyall is making me cry
13. lyall is gonna write remus a letter. i’m SOBBING
14. sirius missing remus is making me miss him too
15. “"You just found out my son is a murderer," Lyall informs him, raising his eyebrows slowly.
Sirius blinks. "Mr. Lupin, I'm also a murderer. I've killed twelve people."”
😳 they’re both on thin ice but that exchange is also unnecessarily funny
16. 😭😭😭😭 sirius, buddy, you just told lyall that you and remus had sex. my boy, pls think before speaking next time
17. 😭😭😭 he just rambled more and admitted to being in love. sir 😭😭
chapter 34:
1. DORCAS SEES MARLENE FROM THE TRAIN
2. DORLENE HUGGG!! FUCK YEAH
3. i’m so mad at the riches that victors and the hollow receive, while there are literally people in starvation
4. god, they’re so gay. dorcas just gave marlene her ring
5. i can’t fucking deal with this. james sees vanity and hodges’ families
6. i knew i couldn’t deal with it, cause james’ speech to the families is making me cry
7. 😬 shit they just did the hallow is hollow chant. shit shit shit
8. james, stop being so harsh on yourself. you deserve the same grace that you gave sirius
9. 😧 evans only friend was regulus. i- i am not okay at all
10. sobbing, shit shit shit. they’re looking at evan’s tree
11. “They talk a lot, him and Evan. Or Evan's ghost. Regulus tells him secrets that he's never told another soul. Evan is his best friend, so why shouldn't he?”
deep breath. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
12. 😭😭😭 regulus deciding that he must climb the tree even tho he doesn’t really want to
13. !!!! progress!! reg wants to sleep in james’ room!
14. “He won't see Evan in his dreams again for a long, long time.” 😐 i want to stare into author’s soul cause i hate them for this line
(also, if anyone knows author’s pronouns and could let me know, that would be great. idk if it’s something they shared or not, but if it is, i’d like to know)
#marauders#regulus black#james potter#fanfic#jegulus#sirius black#dorcas x marlene#dorcas meadowes#marlene mckinnon#dorlene#sunseeker#starchaser#evan rosier#effie potter#euphemia potter#monty potter#fleamont potter#lyall lupin
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