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katyawriteswhump · 3 months

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Livin’ the dream (steddielovemonth day 3)

After High School, Eddie and Steve’s lives don’t exactly go as planned… For @steddielovemonth day 3 prompt: Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking a leap (@unclewaynemunson) Thank you <3

Rating: M. CW: Unhealthy/abusive relationship (NOT steddie!) Tags: No Upside Down AU, angst. WC: 2,225

…

“I’d never have dreamed,” said Eddie one morning, during his daily stop at Dave’s Diner, “that Steve Harrington pouring my coffee would become the highlight of my day.”

Steve smirked. “Wasn’t exactly how I saw my future either, Munson.”

While Steve poured, Eddie left his hand on his coffee cup. He always did—even if the cup got too hot. Even if it scalded him. He’d not miss a chance to have Steve that close. Nor to enjoy staring at those lickable arms, today exposed to the shoulders by a snug-fitting vest top.

“I guess you really dig lousy weak coffee, man,” said Steve.

“Sets me up for a busy day fulfilling my childhood ambition of hauling bricks, darlin’.” He’d gotten away with ‘darlin’’ last week. Steve didn’t chew his head off today, either, so… “Living the dream, huh?”

Steve sighed hard, started wiping the counter near Eddie, over and over, as he always did. “How’s your pay?” asked Steve quietly.

“It’s a day rate. Not stellar, not the pits. Why? You looking for other work?” Panic rocked through Eddie. “You’re not leaving this place?” Though it would be awesome if we worked together. Eddie was already fantasising about those hot summer days on the construction site, when Steve might strip his shirt off.

“Nah, not really,” said Steve, “I’m kinda tied to this job.” He ran his free hand distractedly across his eyes. Tied to this job—what the heck did that mean? Steve often seemed world-weary and withdrawn. Incongruously so, given the confident guy he used to be. But that was adult life, so it seemed. It sucked.

All the same, Eddie experienced an uneasy urge to probe deeper. Steve got in first: “Hey, how’s the band?”

Eddie beamed. Yeah, there was one other thing, other than coffee with Steve, that he lived for: “We got a gig Saturday night.”

“Let me guess—the super bowl came begging?”

“Haha, just you wait, big guy. It’s at that new bar in town. You wanna come?”

Steve paused his scrubbing. Something sparked in the depths of those big, beguiling eyes that made Eddie’s throat tighten, and his pulse beat faster. “I’m working,” said Steve. I’ll try and get away aft—”

“Hey, kid! You gone blind or you really this lazy?” That was Steve’s boss, Dave, who’d gotten the biggest arms Eddie had ever seen. “There’s more than one punter in this place. If you can count that high?”

“Jesus, he can be such an a-hole,” mumbled Steve. He shot off, even as Eddie bleated:

“See you tomorrow?”

…

Only seven people turn up for Corroded Coffin’s gig. It was a total dud, and Eddie didn’t give a shit.

Among the seven, was Steve.

The crappy too-bright venue lighting revealed Steve undressing Eddie with his eyes, as surely as Eddie undressed Steve. Eddie was so blown away, he almost messed up the finger work on his most bodacious solo.

After the final number, Eddie placed down his guitar and made a beeline for Steve: “Hey, you made it.”

“Figured I might as well. Jon Bon Jovi wasn’t returning my calls.” Steve snickered, and Eddie literally drooled. Metal thrummed through his every vein, and his blood rushed madly—most of it heading south. Steve Harrington CAME TO MY GIG AND STAYED FOR THE NON-EXISTENT AFTER-PARTY. Steve’s vest top was sadly missed, but his tight t-shirt still afforded Eddie a glimpse of that tasty chest hair, and the skin-tight jeans were… Gnnng! And as for the touch of eyeliner?

Slayed Eddie dead.

“You wanna come backstage?” Eddie’s voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched.

“I’d like a drink. Preferably something stronger than coffee, and that I don’t have to pour.”

After his sixth shot, Eddie went in for the kill: “You are literally the hottest fucking thing I have ever goddamn seen.”

“Not exactly slick.” Steve leaned close, and Eddie inhaled his fast, bourbon-spiced breaths. “But I guess it’s a step up on ‘do you come here often.’”

Eddie silenced him with a blockbuster kiss, which Steve returned instantly. Within moments, Eddie was up off his barstool, hands roving wildly over Steve’s delicious torso. Okay, also wandering around to pry under his tight t-shirt, and to grope that mega-hot denim-clad ass. Steve pawed Eddie with equal enthusiasm, setting his barstool rocking till it toppled back.

He jumped off, straight into Eddie’s arms. Wow! There was nothing better than kissing somebody roughly your own height. Back at school, he’d figured Steve was a lot taller than him—like most jocks, he’d had that early spurt of growth, Eddie guessed. Then Eddie had more of less caught up, and now..? Yeah, everything had changed, all his preconceptions thrown to the winds. Best of all, Steve had turned out to be a good dude.

Also, the best kisser ever.

They made out like their lives depended on it, tongues sliding together, slickly and keenly. Meanwhile, despite the hotness, all those sweet moments over coffee crammed together in Eddie’s head.

You are the highlight of my life… The light of my goddamn life! How come this took so long?

Then, as abruptly as it started, Steve broke the kiss. He staggered back into his stool, setting it rocking again. “Shit!”

“Oooookay.” Eddie felt like he’d been punched. “Used to that in gig write-ups, but—”

“Oh God, no… It’s not you. It’s so not about you. This was a terrible idea.” He knocked Eddie’s fingers from where they lingered on his hip, and sidestepped, placing the barstool between them.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s about me, Munson, so you can quit the goddamn kicked-puppy-dog eyes.” Erm, back at ya, Harrington. “I’m with another guy, okay?” He laughed, and somehow, it was one of the most miserable sounds Eddie had ever heard. “I didn’t think we’d… Look, I really shouldn’t have come.”

With that, he bolted.

…

Eddie got to the diner super-early on Monday morning. He’d barely thought of anything other than Steve, who was no longer simply his secret crush. Or even the light of his life.

Without exactly knowing why, Eddie was pretty much dying with worry for him.

Steve didn’t pour Eddie’s coffee. He dumped the pot on the counter, emoted unwelcomingly with hard-set features, and hurried off to take a table order. Which he then headed out back to prepare.

Eddie waited. He was gonna be late for work, and his boss would give him an earful, and he really couldn’t give a crap.

The diner emptied out, and eventually, Steve emerged from the back, mouthing:

“What the Hell?”

“I needed to see you, Steve.” Steve glared at him, and Eddie did a double take. Steve looked more exhausted than ever, shadows stark as bruises around his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Saturday was a big mistake. Huge. Had an argument with my boyfriend about it, that’s all. Scram, will you?”

Steve’s boss came out from the back. Steve emoted wildly again, shooed Eddie, and the truth dawned. And was slammed home when Dave slapped Steve’s butt—scowling at Eddie, as he did so—then grabbed Steve’s shoulders, spiralled him about, and shoved him off in the direction of another table awaiting service.

“Either you place another order, or get lost,” said Dave to Eddie.

Eddie ordered pancakes and waited.

“Dave? Seriously?” hissed Eddie, when he finally got Steve’s attention again. He begrudgingly admitted Dave was okay looking. All the same: “He’s a dick! And he’s gotta be old enough to be your dad.”

Steve edged close, talking so fast and hushed Eddie strained to follow. “My parents threw me out. I was on the streets! Dave was… good to me, took me in, and now… I’m kinda stuck. He takes my rent out of my wages, and there’s never anything left, and—”

“You need to get away from him, man.” Eddie felt sick. Somehow, he burbled it out: “Leave the son-of-a-bitch. Right now. You can crash with me.”

“You live in your uncle’s trailer! He’d be beyond thrilled, I’m sure, and Dave would…” Steve’s mouth hung open a moment. He’d what? Come after you? “Look, I’m okay. Dave’s all right, really. Gets grouchy sometimes, that’s all.”

Eddie spouts the next question before he can stop himself. “Do you love him?”

Steve tossed his arms up in despair: “What kinda dumbass question is that?” Yeah, Eddie wants to facepalm. In retrospect, it was truly dumb! “Look, he doesn’t know who I saw on Saturday, but he’s already bitching about you hanging around too much. Just fucking go already!”

Eddie didn’t drive on to the construction site. Instead, as his brain screamed, You’re batshit crazy, he pawned all his meagre possessions, even his beloved Warlock. His plan only faltered when Wayne caught wind of him going to a loan shark. His uncle literally dragged him from their office and insisted on lending Eddie all his scant savings.

Eddie refused. Wayne refused harder. They headed to the second-hand dealership and purchased the cheapest RV in the yard.

Next morning, Eddie trundled his rusty 1960s Volkswagen into the forecourt of Dave’s Diner. He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and moseyed through the door like a gunslinger and about to unleash hell. One that was also trembling like jello, packing zero heat, and practically pissing himself.

“Got my own place now,” he said to Steve.

Steve looked mad, refused him even a coffee cup, though Dave didn’t seem to be around. Yet. “This isn’t happening, Eddie.”

“My place has got wheels, darlin’.” Eddie motioned to the RV outside, dropped his voice to an undertone. “It’s a big country. We can go anywhere. I’ll park up half-a-mile along the road. Wait all day. All night, if you need.”

Steve eked tight words from between gritted teeth: “Look, I don’t wanna sound ungrateful. It’s still a ‘no,’ man. You must have gone cuckoo. I mean, what about your band?”

Yeah, that brought a pang to Eddie’s chest: “Honestly? The rest of the guys are losing interest fast. I can fly solo. As long as you’ll fly with me?”

Dave strode out from the back. The flash of fear in Steve’s eyes cut Eddie to the quick, because it also hollered, You’re making things worse!

Oh God, what’ve I done?

“You’re barred,” yelled Dave at Eddie. “I see your long-haired loony mug one more time, you can kiss my fist.”

“Subtle you ain’t, asshat.” Eddie retreated, literally a mangy, kicked dog. He drove the RV that half-a-mile along the road and waited. And waited. By midnight, he felt like his heart had been wrung dry, and eventually, he fell asleep.

A loud thudding roused him. He sat up, blinked at his unfamiliar surroundings and then… Shiiiit! He dashed to the door.

Steve perched on the step, his wide eyes glowing with something… unfamiliar. Some sparkle that might just be hope. He’d gotten a very small bundle slung over his shoulder.

“I hope you were serious?” asked Steve.

“Deadly serious, darlin’.”

Steve took Eddie’s face in his hands, and kissed him, briefly, almost chastely. Totally mind blowing. “So good to do that without feeling guilty,” he murmured, smoothing kiss-wetted lips together.

Eddie grinned; he wasn’t even quite sure if this was real: “Let’s get the Hell out of Dodge,” he said.

They hit the road, and they never looked back.

…

Three months later

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” cooed Eddie, as the Hawkins pawn shop owner handed his Warlock back across the counter. “I missed you soooo much.”

“Ugh, seriously?” bitched Steve, as soon as they exited the store. He blocked Eddie’s path along the sidewalk, planted his hands on his hips: “Should I be jealous?”

“Nah. We’re a proper family now.” With his guitar safely stowed in its case, he slung an arm around Steve, and they walked on toward where they’d parked the RV. “Tho’ when we get to Wayne’s, I might have a moment with my long-lost beloved. While you two watch the game.”

“No funny business, Sweetcheeks, or I’m absconding with a second-hand Yamaha keyboard.”

Eddie beamed broadly. It felt so weird, being back in Hawkins, and with hope, at least, for a better future. Not even having to worry about… “You know, I kinda want to thank Chief Hopper in person for arresting your douchebag ex.”

“Yeah, well, he put a guy in the hospital.” Steve shuddered. “They’ve charged him with attempted homicide.”

God, I’m so relieved it wasn’t you, thinks Eddie.

Steve rattled out a joyless laugh that Eddie hadn’t heard for some time, and said, “Jesus, I’m so happy it wasn’t you.”

Suddenly, Eddie’s eyes brimmed with tears. It’s too much. He can’t bear to think of what might have been. “Love you so much,” he blurted, fumbling for the keys for the RV. He couldn’t get up the steps and inside with Steve fast enough

“Love you too,” whispered Steve, once the door was closed, and sounding slightly choked, also. Which isn’t like him.

They clasped each other tighter than ever, and did their darndest to kiss the bad memories away.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddielovemonth #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington whump #eddie x steve #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction

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yurinaa-world · 5 months

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Can I request Jing Yuan and blade with an s/o with a shorter lifespan than them who they met when she was young but now she is an old lady (sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language ;-:)

Characters: Blade and Jing Yuan x Female Reader

Synopsis: fateful meeting after a lifetime has passed but he still looks the same while you don't.

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes, angsty with no comfort, went very angsty with this, reader death implied at the end in Jing Yuan part.

Notes: I just wanted to say that the reason I closed my requests is because I thought it would be better to do quality over quantity since that isn't fair to myself and to everyone who wants to see my writing but just to see such crappy and rushed writing. (don't worry it will open again!)

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

The rain was heavy, making all the citizens of Loufu run back home. Even their umbrellas couldn’t stop the harsh rain from hitting them and soaking them completely, yet you stayed out under a little side foot that was more than enough to become soaked by the rain. Since beggars can’t be choosers, you just deal with what you get.

Many seasons go by. It was like yesterday you were a young woman with the need to know what the future would hold for you, but now your days are numbered and you don't have much time to be alive. Every step you take might be your last that doesn’t bother you. You have so many regrets, so you would rather get this life over with and cry about it later.

The students of the master have now all grown up and are taking care of their reborn master, the cycle repeating itself over and over again. If only you had someone like that, all those friends you had would be gone, since you were the only one out, the childish and weak mortal in the group, and there was an unknown chance if you were to be reborn—a chance but not a worthy one for someone like you.

Lost in thought, someone stood beside you—a man with long hair. You turned to your side to look at him; he wasn’t soaked at all, even though he didn’t have an umbrella. Calmly bothered by the rain, “You don’t even drop a droplet of water on you,” you laughed lightly, the dryness in your throat becoming apparent.

Over time, as you get older, you're not afraid to strike up a conversation with anyone who doesn't care about any societal standards, since it's like you were one of them. “I don't,” he replied back, his voice rough, making it sound like he didn’t want even to bother talking to you as his answer, making you confused: “Young people these days, such pep in your words.” You smiled at him, not taking anything offensive; he turned to look at you. Your eyes widened looking at you like that.

A laugh left your scratchy throat; now you remember him very clearly, along with a distant memory.

Yingxing

"Yangxing, hey, hey! Stop ignoring me!" You yell at him, trying to gain his attention while he puts on his metal sword (that he was making for you). “You brat,” you hear him say, leaving the sword in the water and walking over with a mad expression before pinching and pulling your cheek roughly. "OWW." "Do you ever stop talking, or are you going to talk your ears off?" he huffs. He clearly wasn’t mad at you; he was just playing it up. "Little brat, lucky you're cute, or I would kick you." "No way." "Don't try me, Brat; did you forget that this sword is for you?" ….

That old memory makes you laugh even though you can’t remember all of it fully, yet it seems you're the only mortal now since he looks the same, but with one difference: his hair was black now instead of white, which was a shame you liked his white hair. Did he still remember you?

“You don’t look a day old; look at me; I'm an old hag now, if you even remember me.” You chuckled at the poor memory coming back to you from your youth. “I remember you; you look different now.” "Of course, I’m just a short-lived species,” you stop to laugh before continuing, “I guess I’m the only one now.”

“You seem more alive now than you were before” is one of the few words spoken to you since you were the one speaking the most.

"The older you are, the more you realize you don’t have much time left and live your life to the fullest.”

The rain slowly came to a stop, dividing to show the sun and its glory again. As he also began to leave, you stayed to watch him go but stopped after a couple of steps. "You were as beautiful as the first time I met you,” he said blankly. Before leaving for good, you couldn’t help but let tears slip past, remembering the past.

“You little brat, don’t run."

"You're lucky; I even made you a sword.”

“I made your weapon to fit your style, so you don’t have to worry about styling."

All those memories with him made your heart ache, and everything was taken away from you—the life you used to have and the life you could’ve had—but now the only thing left to achieve in this life is death. At least then you’ll be freed. The pitiful mortal you truly are

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

Lying in bed, my body felt like a tangled mess of discomfort, constantly shifting and unable to find a moment of reprieve. With each breath, you released exasperated sighs, your throat, and raspy coughs that echoed through the room. The pain in your throat, a relentless companion, combined with the knowledge that even the simplest act of speaking would render your voice grouchy and croaky

This is the reality that hangs over you like a heavy cloud, a constant reminder that your decaying flesh will give up on you at the slightest attempt to rise from this bed of discomfort. Every day, it seemed, your body grew weaker and more fragile, as if it were nothing more than a fragile vessel on the brink of shattering.

You wish there would be a better way to spend the few years or months you have to live, but you weren’t one of the Vidyadharas who were reincarnated when they died. Your fate would be unknown if you were brought back to life, but you hope there was a chance to be with someone.

The sound of someone knocking softly at the door, you cough roughly before speaking, "Come in,” you say weakly, trying to be loud enough to hear, trying to clear your throat so you don’t have to painfully cough from your dead, dried throat.

The doorknob twisted, and the door gently opened, making a small creaking sound from the old door hinges. You were too tired and in pain to even see who it was, just coughing painfully and saying, "You've seen better days.” With the old voice of a friend, Jing Yuan, and a bouquet of golden flowers that remind you of his eyes, you never thought he would visit since it was long ago that you last saw him.

“I have *cough*, but it isn’t as bad as before.” You say optimistically, smiling at him, “Your busy being in general these days; how far you have come.” You were happy with his future and the life he’s living now. “Yes, but I hoped that you would stand beside me as well.” His voice begins to sound sad at having been with you, putting down a bouquet on your bedside table covered with medicines.

“I’m human; remember, what makes you think I can stand right now anyway?" You laugh, trying to lighten his mood. He seems to be bothered more than you that life has been unkind to you and didn’t allow you both to be together. “You know what I mean? Do you ever wish that you could live as long as me?” Such sentimental words are coming from him.

"Right now, yes, but what can we do but face hard? Weren’t those words you told me whenever I was having a hard time?" You remember those words barely; they're still ingrained in your memory with him by your side.

“Jing Yuan, when I die, don’t bother crying over me; we both knew the day would come.” You say seriously since he was the last person you wanted to hurt by your death, so you would rather him be numbed by you since the days are getting near, but he kept silent, not able or wanting to say anything to you.

“If I have another chance at life, I'll find you again, so don’t be sad; don’t get your hopes up, though.”

As you close your eyes, slowly surrendering to the encompassing darkness, a profound sense of tranquility washes over you and your weary and weak soul. The weight of the world all fades away. Your heart goes silent, with no beating or breath. You’ll meet him again in another life; maybe this time you’ll be able to be Vidyadharas so you can have all the time in the world, unlike before.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai star rail x you #honkai blade #honkai blade x reader #honkai blade x you #blade x reader #blade x you #honkai star rail #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #star rail

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agendabymooner · 7 months

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about names: an amazing boy with an amazing name || cl16 scenario (1)

dad!charles leclerc x mom!ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

EXTENSION OF OF LONG LINES AND NAMES AND THE LECLERC DAYCARE

Summary: The Leclerc boys and their names go hand in hand. OR times when Charles and his wife Aimee had to explain that their children’s names are meaningful.

Scenario summary: Charles and Aimee wondered what Hervé meant when he said that his name was silly and that he hated it. Thank goodness, Pascale Leclerc was the one that the boy cannot refuse as she comforts her grandson.

Content warning: Kids teasing kids, possible use of explicit language, fluff, dad!Charles content, the Leclerc family (Pascale and Leclerc brothers) content, briefly mentions Charles' dad, crappy French translations by Apple, sad kids being comforted, fluff, what is beta reading we write things at 2am and post it after lol

Note: One more before I dash out of my dorm for the day lmfaoo

masterlist

Aimee Leclerc was no stranger to chatty kids and pick-up schedules, so it was no wonder why she immediately found herself in front of the elementary school that stood gloriously in the middle of Monte-Carlo as she waited for her two children to be dismissed from the class for the day.

It was a routine of hers now that her work in McLaren had become remote. Five children took up all of her time and between them and her work— she would’ve immediately left the company if the team made her choose. She’d rather be in Monaco while Charles continued to pursue his career as a racing driver.

Zak Brown was empathetic enough to understand that a set of children wouldn’t be able to have a stable routine should they continue to travel around the world just to be with their parents who worked overseas, offering Aimee a chance to work at home and adapt to a better routine as she took care of her children.

She could wait patiently if anybody ever asked her. She had no problem, knowing that she was able to finish her work long before she could pick up her eldest children.

But the energy that her children had shown merely told her enough: they might have been either excited to see her or they thought that she was rushing them. She caught a glimpse of her twins as they stepped out of the elementary school, their uniforms somehow tidy and less wrinkled despite their busy day.

“Maman! Devinez quoi?” Guess what? Jules jumped excitedly as he wrapped his arms around Aimee tightly, still jumpy and giddy as he spoke in English, “We did our quiz in maths!”

“Oh? Is that right, J?” Aimee asked with a smile, her fingers running through her son’s wavy hair. It was surprising how her children’s hair continued to lose its volume as years passed— it was becoming more like Charles’ hair.

They were mini Charleses, indeed.

“Yes, Maman! I also— uh…” It seemed like Jules ran out of English immediately as he said, “J'ai fait si bien! Je n'ai perdu qu'un point!” I did so good! I only lost one point!

Aimee was merely thankful that she could understand French and Italian, or rather, she was thankful her private teacher taught her how to speak those languages; otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to understand her multilingual-speaking children.

She primarily spoke English and had grown up practicing a standard accent in her Received Pronunciation. She never adapted to her husband’s speaking style, but learned to understand it nevertheless. Their children were being raised in Monaco, after all, and most people spoke in French or Italian. She was only thankful that she was able to teach them to speak English to preserve that part of them. Most of their cousins are raised in England and this gave them the opportunity to converse in that language.

Anyways.

Aimee beamed at her son and exclaimed, “A good job done, Jules!” Then she turned to look at her other son, who was unusually quiet for such a normal day. Hervé, as Aimee learned while nurturing her ever-growing children, was never quiet — he was one of the boys who would often cause ruckus inside the Leclerc home. If he’s silent like this then Aimee knew he was feeling something along the lines of upset.

Hervé was never upset. He was so much like his grandfather— his namesake. So joyous. Why was he feeling so down? Aimee didn’t know.

“Hervé, my love,” Aimee called softly, but he couldn’t hear. Jules turned to look at his twin and noticed the boy disassociated, giving his brother’s shirt a tug as Hervé finally looked up. The Leclerc matriarch (2.0) smiled gently and asked, “Is it a long day for you?”

“Oui, Maman,” he replied quietly, offering her a nod and nothing more.

Aimee had led them to the Aston Martin family SUV as soon as he answered and drove off to head home. Jules was chatting Aimee’s ears off and it somehow defeaned her. It wasn’t because Jules was loud, no; Hervé wasn’t even talking, and his silence defeaned her.

“Herb,” she called as she looked at the rear view mirror, noticing how his jaw clenched before crossing his arms. “Hervé?”

“Stupid, silly name,” Jules hadn’t seen Hervé mutter those words beneath his breath but Aimee certainly had, leaving the mother confused. What the hell was happening?

“H,” Aimee called once more. Hervé’s angry eyes finally looked up to meet Aimee’s worried ones. Even if she wanted to remind him to calm down, she knew that it would lead to his outburst so she avoided it and asked, “Da’s home? Do you want to tell him about your maths quiz today? Maybe you and Jules can show him the art you made for Mademoiselle Blanc?”

“Hmp,” the eldest Leclerc twin huffed, turning away from his mother and looking out the window.

Jules’s eyes narrowed as he gave a brief glimpse at Aimee, turning towards his twin, “Are you okay, H?”

“Oui,” Hervé muttered, acting as some sort of assurance, but this only made Jules look at his mother with worry. Aimee flashed a smile at her son before continuing to drive on the way home. It was another thing that the Leclerc boys had gotten from their father; they were bad liars.

It only got worse when Aimee pulled up to their driveway, and the boys made their way inside. Jules dashed out of the car with his backpack to navigate his way around the house, trying to find their father before he gasped, “Da!”

Aimee watched her other son carefully, trying to read Hervé’s behaviour as he walked past Aimee. She still wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Oh! Hello, Jules!” Charles Leclerc, a Ferrari driver who had just returned from a doubleheader, grinned gracefully at the sight of his son. In his arm was one of his young twins, Anthoine — or Tony, for most people — while the other half of the pair, Alain, sat on the playmat with his book propped open. “Comment va l'école aujourd'hui?” How is school today?

“Very good, Da!” Jules grinned toothily, “Madame Hurst m'a donné une étoile pour mon quiz de mathématiques!” Mrs. Hurst gave me a star for my maths quiz!

“Ah, really? Cela signifie que vous avez fait un excellent travail en étudiant avec maman alors,” it means you’ve done a good job at studying with Mummy, then. Charles glanced past Aimee’s legs, seeing the other pair of his twins as he greeted the quiet boy, “Bonjour, Hervé. Comment allez-vous?” Good afternoon, Hervé. How are you?

“D'accord, Da,” Fine. Hervé muttered, his irritation noticed easily by his father as Charles scowled lightly. Every adult in their family knew that it meant trouble if Charles gave this look.

At first, the Ferrari driver tried to make a light of the situation, “Why the long face, Hervé? The more you do that, the more you’ll look like your Uncle Toto. Give Da a smile?”

“No,” but Hervé wasn’t having it as he snapped at his father firmly, the tip of his ears turning red as he stomped off.

“No?”

“Don’t call me that!” Hervé snapped, his eyes turning dark as he got angry and upset.

“What? Hervé—“ Charles tried to reason out, but the 7-year-old was anything but reasonable at the moment.

“I’m not Hervé! Don’t call me that! It’s a stupid name!”

Charles could have sworn that he, too, was seeing red as he placed the toddler in his arms before marching off the playroom. He followed after his son and exclaimed, “Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu Leclerc! Come back here!”

“No! No more talking! Leave me alone, Da!”

Thud. The boy had just slammed the door on his father’s face, and Charles— Charles was fuming.

He loves his boys dearly; he does. But it was moments like this that somehow made him different from the loving father that he is. He wasn’t even sure why he was so upset— was it because of the fact that his son just yelled that he didn’t want to talk, or did he just hear his son say that his father’s name was stupid? He wasn’t sure.

He was just… upset and confused.

Charles wasn’t sure where he’d gone wrong with becoming a parent to his sons. He did everything he could despite being a busy driver— he took care of them whenever Aimee was out, he taught them how to be kind to other people and he taught them how to love. Hervé had never been this upset before and it bothered Charles and Aimee to no end. What was he genuinely upset about?

Then they both recalled what the boy said. Hervé wasn’t his name. He thought that the name was silly, from what Aimee had told Charles. Where did that even come from?

“I— truthfully, I don’t even know where that came from, Charles,” Aimee admitted as she sat with him on the couch that night, sighing heavily while the driver rested his head against his hand.

They tried asking the boy, from asking him to come down for dinner (with Aimee giving up and leaving a bowl of rice and chicken in front of his door) to Charles asking to come into his room (with Charles not receiving any form of response). But alas, Hervé had no response. He didn’t even respond when they tried to ask if he’d like to come over to his Uncle Lorenzo or Arthur’s place.

No luck.

“He didn’t mention anything at all,” she continued, keeping her voice down to avoid waking any of their children up. “He was muttering to himself, I’ve no bloody clue he was upset.”

“I didn’t know either,” Charles murmured, grabbing a hold of her hand and kissing the knuckles of it. “He isn’t normally like this— he’d tell us if there’s something wrong.”

It was true. Hervé, much like the other Leclerc children, never got into a fight with a friend before. He was upfront about his feelings and would tell either his parents or playmate about being upset. There were some instances when he almost snapped but otherwise managed to control his emotions— he was so much like his brothers and mother in a sense. Aimee always approached them with the five-finger solution before they could even burst into tears or anger.

So, for Hervé to keep quiet?

Even Aimee couldn’t get an answer from him. What did he mean by his name was a stupid name? Charles asked himself this a couple of times.

His name was Hervé— that was a typical French name, no? What made Hervé think that his name, his late grandfather’s name, was silly? Charles tried approaching his son about the matter every minute since the boys got home from school, but much to his dismay, the boy evaded him.

But there was only one person that Hervé wouldn’t refuse to answer. Much like his late grandfather, Hervé never refused his Mamé.

So the next day, Pascale Leclerc — the grandmother of the Leclerc boys — took the liberty to have a day off with the upset boy. Jules felt incomplete without Hervé in the school but went nonetheless, and the five-year-old boy PJ went to kindergarten while Aimee, Charles and the youngest twins went out. Pascale stayed at home with Hervé and baked cookies with him.

After putting the cookie dough into the preheated oven, Pascale served the boy some tea, to which Hervé gratefully drank as his grandmother sat across from him.

She sighed and placed a hand on his knee, “Est-il vrai que tu t'es fâché contre ton père, Hervé?” Is it true that you got angry with your dad, Hervé? She asked, her question leaving him frozen as he looked at Pascale guiltily.

Hervé carefully sat his mug down on the table and nodded solemnly, not uttering a word. Pascale asked, “Has it been a rough day for you? That’s why you got angry?”

Hervé shook his head as Pascale suggested, “Veux-tu dire à Mamé ce qui t'a mis en colère? Peut-être pouvons-nous trouver une solution ensemble?” Will you tell Mamé what has gotten you angry? Maybe we can find a solution together?

The longer the silence lasted, the more the tears flowed out of Hervé’s eyes as his lips pursed and trembled. The poor boy couldn’t help but stammer, “Mon nom est tellement silly et stupide, Mamé!” My name is so silly and stupid! He continued to cry out, “Kylian a dit que mon nom venait de «Herbe et fromage» et c'est très stupide! Je n'aime pas mon nom, Mamé!” Kylian said that my name came from ‘Herb and cheese’ and that it’s stupid! I don’t like my name, Mamé!

Pascale’s eyes nearly teared up at the confession that Hervé made. He hated his name because someone made him feel like it wasn’t worth appreciating. Her poor grandson was subjected to this kind of behaviour, which felt so… disheartening.

“Oh, Hervé,” Pascale immediately reached out to soothe the boy, shushing him quietly while he sobbed. His eyes shut as tears continued to flow down, soaking Pascale’s cardigan in the process. “Your name is not stupid or silly; did you know that?”

His crying lasted for several minutes, with Pascale patiently soothing him in the process. When his sobbing quietened, Pascale took this as an opportunity to tell him about his name.

She sighed shakily, not wanting to shed a tear or two as she explained, “Da, Uncle Lorenzo and Uncle Arthur had their own Da— you have seen him before in the pictures, oui?” She felt the boy nod through her chest as she hummed and continued, “That was your Papy. Do you know what his name was? His name was Hervé.”

“Her—“ the boy hiccuped. “Hervé? Like me?”

“Oui, mon amour,” Pascale replied with a soft smile, “Hervé like you.”

“You are sooo much like your Papy Hervé, that is why Maman and Da named you after him,” Pascale continued, “you are as funny and happy as him. When he was still alive I used to call him Herb. I loved him so much, mon chou.

“And when he was gone, your Da and your uncles filled the rest of the space in my heart that you and your brothers soon took over,” Pascale smiled, “and I think that your name is beautiful like it is with my Herb’s.”

“It is?”

“Oui, my love,” Pascale replied, “your name is what keeps your Papy’s memories alive for your Da and your uncles. Do not let anyone think that it is a silly name because you are an amazing boy with an amazing name. Your Maman and Da love you so much, and your Da? He loved his Papa so much that he decided to name another person he loved after him. That’s you, mon cœur.”

Ever since then, Hervé learned how to embrace his name and would often explain to everyone where his name came from, even in the grid and paddock.

Nobody needed to ask where his name came from— after all, he is Hervé Leclerc. He was just as joyful and enthusiastic as his grandfather.

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clarks-letterman · 25 days

Text

a stab at it | johnny slaughter x gn!reader

a/n — I had the writing itch and this came to me, started as a vague fic before turning into a Johnny one, so the plot is probably crappy. making up for my April fools fic!!!! (accept this as an apology)

summary — Johnny comes into the diner you work at late at night.

words — 1.4k

warnings — mentions of blood, possibly out of character!Johnny, swearing

~~~

The diner with no name. A pit stop on the way to bigger, brighter places like Austin or Dallas. No one cared about Newt besides the people who lived in it, and the diner was so far out of the way for anyone who lived in between the spaced-out houses for anyone from up that way to come around. It became the sweet spot for foreigners because it was closer to them than it was to where, legally, this place could be held in contempt.

The customers without faces. They stuff everything into little pockets of life that are designed to be unremarkable. Their outlines don't leave a lasting impact. The red, cushioned seating of each booth and stool doesn't leave an indent of their presence, of their scent. It wears off when the next dull-faced person comes in and orders the special to feel special, but in reality, they're like everyone else. The money they pay with is monopoly; kiddish, fast-change for a faster leave. Everyone accepts it but you need to be a special kind of person to work here. Their silhouettes as they leave are untraceable beyond the set of glass doors at the entrance. Vibrant purple lighting casts down on them and is usually diffracted by the soft yellow headlights of rusted and muddied trucks.

Another pulled up, casting light into the tall windows looking out into total darkness. You could've seen him coming from a good mile away—that’s how obvious the light would have been against the night, nothing else around to compete with his headlights—but paid no mind as he pulled into a vacant spot in front of the diner.

His figure was different, the way he walked left dirty bootprints on the floor. Each step seemed to shake off something: dirt, sweat, fleas—if he was rabid. He looked fresh out of a street fight, claw-like scrapes along his arms that were lazily cared for in some areas and ignored in others like he couldn’t even feel it. You couldn’t even imagine what was festering over his soiled handkerchief, the concoction of what you assumed to be blood—probably his, tending to the wounds that drew blood—and dirt and the firm press his strong hands must have had on it while he lathered it in such a dirty blend must have aided in it’s deforming. It hung off his person, but it wasn’t swinging freely. It was stiff and dried and only molded to his stand when he took a seat at one of the red stools. The blood on his white rag wasn’t the vibrant red of the stool, some of the spots were browning—likely a week old—and the newer spots were a darker shade.

“You here all by yourself?” He asked, looking at you. You didn’t realize that the rest of the diner was empty—including the skeleton crew of staff. In fact, it was just you working tonight. The other server on duty left over an hour ago to deal with a family emergency, something about a family member that had gone missing. You couldn’t really say much without looking like an asshole, so here you were: stood on the inside of the U-shaped counter, facing a man whose appearance was unusually cold as he sat on the outside of it.

“No, Bob’s in the kitchen.” You lied, the taste bitter like the bacon you burnt this morning during whatever it is a dying business can experience that is closest to a ‘rush.’ Bob quit weeks ago when the business was slow and the money coming in was slower. “You’re stuck with me up here, sugar.”

It might have been a lie, but you couldn’t care. Whatever made him think he couldn’t get a jump on you. But he seemed unamused, and that’s when you noticed the knife. It was on the other side of his hips, fastened between one of the belt loops on his jeans. The blade of it looked longer as you pushed open the waist-high swinging door to collect the dishes of the last family that ate. It gave you an excuse to look him up and down, and he didn’t have anything hiding under the counter that should make you nervous. He wasn’t even positioned to grab his knife quickly—his shoulder relaxed and his hands resting on top of the pale yellow counter.

After taking the dishes to the back, making a mental note to wash them before you left, you went back to the front. Johnny spoke up as he watched you strut back into the room with unknown purpose, his voice giving it a guide. “Could I… have a menu? You said someone’s still in the kitchen, so it’s open, right?"

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You said, reaching under the counter to get a paper menu for him. You slid it across, keeping your eyes trained on your hand and then his face came into the picture.

“It’s okay.” His voice was meek, softer and lighter than when he asked if you were alone. Was he playing for pity points—trying to get sympathy like it was free to hand out these days? “I just haven’t done this in a while. I don’t get out much.”

“Then why are you here?” It was something about him that made you say that—the rudeness, the imposition his mere presence emitted in a place like this. The way he smelled, the way he sounded. You looked away from him, out the window and into the nothingness only to return to his eyes. They were dark, seeing the hidden horrors of the night but there was something deeper in them that faded at your comment. His eyes went from doe-like to predatorily pouncing on your figure. From the apron tied around your waist, pens and notepads and straws and silverware stuffed in the various pockets of it, to the misshapen yellow cloth covering your upper body and then finally to your face. His voice shifted, too, going from the soft sounds of the wind to being as fiery as his truck’s engine.

“Because I’m not some bitch. I cut up—” he paused, before continuing, “—cattle all the time. It’s nice to eat a meal that isn’t something I have to work my ass off for.”

He continued his tangent, “In fact, I’ll make this easy for you so you quit your bitchin’. I don’t want anything savory, just get me a slice of pie. That should be easy enough for ya, right?”

You nodded and told him that it was coming up. You pushed the door open to the kitchen and pulled his pie out of the fridge. The oven was already heated, so you cut a slice bigger than what you would normally serve for him and put it on a pan and slid it into the oven. He shouted from the front, his accent like and voice losing its projection as he yelled, “Christ, and a cold one too! If you have it…”

Most people probably would’ve left. A diner in the middle of Nowhere, Texas with one person manning the kitchen and dining area is one big red flag for the quality of service. It took almost four minutes to heat up his requested pie—blueberry with crumbles of sugary clumps on top mixed with some crushed graham crackers. You didn’t know if he wanted whipped cream or not, so you kept it to the side when you brought it out to him. But this man was different, he looked like he hadn’t seen real food at all in his lifetime. You set it down in front of him, taking the opportunity to use your position on the inside of the counter to pull silverware from your apron like magic.

Setting the fork down next to his plate on the counter, he seemed to be in a lighter mood. He pulled his knife out, placing it on the opposite side of his plate. “Trade ya?”

“Only if you can’t pay. But this is on the house.”

Not only did he look happy when you said that, but when he took the first bite, his expression changed for the better. A smile formed around the fork, still in his mouth at the first taste of sweetness. His upturned lips crinkled his cheeks, and in turn, wrinkled the scar running down his face. You set yourself down on the counter, holding your face in your hands and letting your elbows rest on the counter. He smiled like a child and you admired him for it. "How is it? Good?"

He nodded. The man with no name, but an irascible personality. Unforgettable and strong. He was different because he liked this diner’s crappy food more than most. He liked the people in it, too. If only it could last that long...

#johnny slaughter #x male reader #x reader #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #fanfic #johnny sawyer #the texas chainsaw massacre x reader #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre game #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre #Johnny tcm #johnny slaughter x male reader #johnny slaughter x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #johnny slaughter x y/n #x y/n

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yeojinnii · 3 months

Text

guitar player! karma x reader

being surprised by his lover by showing up to his performance, and having you watch him live for the first time was something karma never knew he needed to see, until now.

fluff, karma x reader, opposite attracts type relationship(readers style/aesthetic isn’t rlly specified though), use of nickname ‘love’, oneshot, like 3 seconds of angst at the start

they seemed a little more giggly than normal today. and, he couldn’t lie, their eagerness for him to leave the house and go to meet with his bandmates put him on edge. usually they were both making lame excuses for him to stay a few minutes longer, which usually ended up in karma being 30 minutes late to his pre-show practice.

“yo, man.” the drummer of the band, as usual, was on karma’s heels about the schedule again. “10 minutes till showtime, this might be our biggest show yet!” his cheeky grin clashed with karma’s fatigued frown. it was always nice to have an audience, but his mind was set on his own personal issues at home.

that was until he received a text.

[name]

do good at your show! don’t stay later than you have to :)

it was reassuring in its own, odd way.

they were practically suffocating in the large venue. it was like highschool graduation all over, but with strangers who looked like they came straight from an ally. there were a few decent, friendly looking people, but being somewhere like this for the first time, everyone looks like they want kill you.

[name] stayed in the back of the crowd, somewhere less empty yet they were still noticeable, as if they didn’t stick out like a sore thumb already. the lady at the entrance practically spit out her drink when they enthusiastically walked into the venue. of course, she greeted them like anyone else, but the confusion was clearly evident.

the lights started to dim, the features of the strangers in front of [name] being lost in the darkness. the chatter faded away and suddenly they felt like the only person in the room.

their heart almost stopped when the crowd screamed as the band entered. [name] had listened to a few songs, but it was basically the bare minimum of what their real fans probably listened to. karma had clearly stated he didn’t listen to his own songs unless he had to, since it was basically all he heard all day, but that they were free to enjoy them as the pleased.

the song was one they didn’t recognize. wether that added or hindered the butterflies. the lump in their throat grew. the way the 4 members were set out, you could easily stare bullets into your favorite, and [name] couldn’t help but fall victim to this practice.

the music blared, louder than you had anticipated it to be. something about seeing him play it live rather than listening to it on your phone was different. they couldn’t help but smile giddily as karma’s eyes ran along the crowd. the room was cramped, which was why everyone was struggling to not be pushed into each-other, like the the crappy pb and j someone makes when there in a rush.

when his eyes met yours, it was like the world stopped. if they felt like the only person in the room before, now they felt like the only person on the planet.

karma’s eyes were locked on [names] while his guitar pick unconsciously stuck against his guitar. both their smiles grew wider as he forced himself to strip his eyes away from them. he played more enthusiastically, more harshly. and he kept finding himself glancing over back at them, to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating their presence.

[name] stood outside of the venue eagerly, scrolling mindlessly through the videos and photos they took when karma was playing, which was basically the whole time. they knew they would probably have to go back and delete about half of them later so their storage didn’t kill them, but they savored the moment before it slipped away.

what seemed to be here to stay was the warm embrace of karma’s arm wrapping around their shoulders in a soft form of saying hello.

“i didn’t know you were going to show up today. hell, i didn’t think you’d show up at all.”

they pinched his arm.

“that makes me feel like you’ve been waiting forever for me to finally waddle over here.”

“maybe i have. maybe i haven’t. just wish you would’ve told me, i could’ve gotten you backstage, so you didn’t have to fight the crowd.”

his usual cheshire smile shone through again. the two walked back towards home, [names] ears ringing from the sudden loudness of the music.

“that would’ve ruined the surprise!” karma just rolled his eyes childly, planting a kiss or two onto their head as they walked. “it was more a surprise for you rather me, love-

,your jaw was literally on the floor the whole time. doesn’t take a pro to see.”

[name] just sighed, waiting silently in their momentary defeat of a surprise. he saw this and chucked, swooping in with his worn out voice.

“you should come more often, love. i’m sure the band would love you, and you seem to like the music.” he suggested eagerly, hiding it with his overused voice and tired eyes.

[name] grasped at the hand hanging loosely from their shoulder and smiled. it was like they had been in a trance all night. the two both subconsciously leaned into each-other.

“i’d like that.”

wether he showed it or not, those words made him swoon more than he already was. having them come to the show was something he needed but hadn’t known it yet.

he ruffled [names] hair around just so the atmosphere wouldn’t get too lovey dovey. they giggled. every second was filled with melodic silence and lovesick glances.

hopefully this wouldn’t be the last time they got to walk home like this.

#┆彡 kens stuff #karma x reader #karma akabane #fluff #assassination classroom #ass class #karma akabane x reader #karma x you

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ghostly-wisp · 1 year

Text

MR. LOVERMAN, CHAPTER 2

i finished this at like 2am after last night's episode so like?? ignore how rushed it might seem i was tired

warnings—mentions of alcohol (reader gets drunk)

[series masterlist ] [chapter 1] [chapter 3]

A couple of months went by, a lot faster than how Pedro expected it to be. Before he knows it, it's nearly Thanksgiving break. and soon, it's going to be time for winter vacation. By then, the year will already be halfway over.

Thanksgiving break wasn't as big of a deal to students, because the break was shorter. It was just a long weekend, but still–a break is a break nontheless. The worst day was the Monday before, and the Monday after.

Mondays never used to bother Pedro, frankly, he didn't mind waking up early and driving to work while the sun was still coming out, however, some moving into the apartment complex — the neighbors are less than considerate. They blast their crappy remixed music until ungodly hours of the night, which resulted in him getting a lot less sleep than before, and he couldn't quite enjoy the sun anymore. He wonders if he should've kept the house in the divorce–he paid for it after all. Though he wouldn't feel as happy in it anymore, it wouldn't be home.

He can't think of the details of his divorce for too long, it'll either make him feel upset or angry. As he's going to work, he can't be either of those things. The students shouldn't see him like that, and some of them are already upset and angry enough for both of them.

He drives into the staff parking lot at 7:02, which gives him just barely enough time to get into his classroom and prepare for the day ahead. He had a good week before vacation planned, all his students were going to the lab — he finally got the okay to perform the elephant toothpaste experiment — and he was sure that the kids would love an experiment like that. He gets his bag filled with yeast, water, and food coloring – and he's off into the building.

He can tell the staff doesn't want to be here either, their huge coffees and barely awake mumbling. He can only imagine how the students will be. Only four days, then it's a long weekend and Thanksgiving. He's only halfway to his classroom when he notices you're not too far in front of him in the hall, so he calls your name.

When you turn–you smile at the sight of your friend, honestly, you thought it would've been Jen or someone else you just didn't have the energy to talk to at the moment. "Morning, Pedro." you hum, stopping in your tracks to allow him to catch up. "What's the plan for today?"

"Elephant toothpaste!" He exclaims, turning the corner to the hallway of both your classrooms. He's already talked your ear off about this experiment – so you didn't need to ask about it again. If there was anything he was more passionate about than teaching, it was science. It's what made him such an effective teacher. "And you?"

"Nothing special. I had a test planned but honestly, I might just put on a movie." giving them a test would be pointless, and probably just piss your students off. He nods as if he heard your thoughts, "That would probably be better."

You smile, stopping at your door and finding your room's key on the Keychain. "A couple of other teachers and I are going out after school on Thursday, to celebrate the vacation." You tell him, he's standing up against a locker watching you struggle with your keys before finally pushing your classroom door open. "Probably to some bar, you're welcome to join us. If you want."

It feels nice to be included in work parties like this, to have the chance to interact with people you work with for hours on end five times a week, outside of an environment where you have to watch what you say and force this sort of politeness. However, the age thing made it harder for him.

The age gap doesn't stop him from being friends with the other teachers—the technology teacher just around the corner was fifteen or so years older than Pedro, though he can assure you he won't be at this gathering. He can already imagine the crowd it will likely be, you, Sam, and a bunch of other teachers in their late twenties to early thirties. He would be out of place, too old to be hanging out with the youth. God forbid you wanted to dance — the last time he danced was at his wedding, ten years ago. "I dunno," he says after a few moments of contemplating, playing with the lid of his coffee cup, following "Don't you think – I'll be a little out of place?" He decides to put it lightly, instead of, don't you think I won't fit in because I'm old?

"Don't be ridiculous," you dismiss, waving your hand as you put your coat and bag in the closet behind your desk. "You realize, half the staff loves you, right? Think you're the coolest guy they've met." and some other things you promised not to say.

"And the other half?"

"They don't know you."

Thursday came quicker than Pedro expected, though he should've known given it was just a four-day week, and there wasn't any productive work happening in his classroom.

He didn't give it much thought until you popped your head into his room once all the children left the school for the weekend. "Did you make up your mind?" you ask, his attention shifts to you, he can't help but notice the new way you had styled your hair today, and he made a mental note to say something about it.

"Are you sure I won't be too old for you youths?" He asks playfully, "I don't want to drag the rest of you down." To this response, you roll your eyes. "Pedro Pascal." You huff, stepping completely into his classroom. "Enough with this age nonsense, I bet you can still bust some moves. Have fun tonight."

"Fine, I'll go." He can't seem to find a way to say no to you, part of him thinks he doesn't entirely want to, it's been so long since he went out with friends and relaxed like this, perhaps it was the night of his graduation night when he went to the bar last. That feels like centuries ago now. "You don't mind if I leave at seven? I have to be in bed by eight."

"Oh, shut up! you're not that old!"

He's back in his apartment, looking frantically for any clothes to wear that weren't too business casual, this was a bar after all — he wasn't going to show up in one of his silly ties. It seemed though that everything he tried on wasn't right. As the clock got closer to the time you told him to meet everyone else, he grew impatient, throwing on black pants and a long black long-sleeved shirt, and he was on his way.

He pulls into the parking lot to see a good number of cars, but none of them look familiar to him–he was nervous that he was in the wrong place, and he's about to check his phone to reread your text before he sees you getting out of your car. He assumes you saw him when you start heading over to him. He turns the engine, slips out of his truck, and locks the door.

"Wow, wow, Mr. Pascal–don't you clean up nicely," you comment, making him re-check what he's wearing as if he forgot. "Thank you, Ms. L/N. You don't look too bad yourself." You only beam, before turning heel to head towards the bar. "Come on, old man. Times tickin' before your bedtime, and we're not spending it outside in the parking lot!"

Pedro's not fully sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

He wasn't completely wrong in the sense of who came — it was more people around your age interested in the dance floor playing Lady Gaga – not that she's not amazing, that woman is a God – however, it just wasn't his groove tonight. He notices Sam is very into it, they're dancing to whatever song comes on and living in the moment. Pedro is envious for a moment, he watches everyone on the dance floor for a moment, thankfully, when you slide into the chair beside him, martini in hand, and distract him from his co-workers' choreography to Bad Romance. You've got a buzz going, not that he can blame you. If he had a designated driver, he would've been drinking a little more himself.

"Pedro," you start, there's a pause before you continue. "You gotta dance—have fun with us! you look awfully lonely sittin' here by yourself with a, what are you drinking?"

"Jack Daniels," He says, "Jack Daniels!" you exclaim.

"'m not lonely." He assures, sometimes he liked the solitude. While he did come here for a social outing, sometimes he liked to be left alone in places like this. "You should go back out there! Join your friends on the dance floor!" to his suggestion, you shake your head. Even with alcohol in your system, you're just as stubborn as when you're sober. "Not without you, no!"

"Can I ask you something?" If you were sober, he would've said something stupid like you already did. Though he figures that while you're in your current state, squinting your eyes at him, perhaps now wasn't the time to use such stale humor. "Shoot,"

"Why did you get a divorce?"

…woah.

For some reason he wasn't expecting that, not from you at least—maybe Sam, or Jenny, or one of the other teachers whose first names he can never remember. He can tell you're curious, eyebrows raised and your drink is pulled closer to you, his face suddenly feels hot, and he's blushing. He can't quite figure out why, is he embarrassed?

Divorce isn't something to be embarrassed about, it happens to more people than you might think. Yeah, he's forty-seven years old and that's a little later than when most people get divorced, but it's not like it's completely unheard of. He's not Ross Geller from the show friends, it's not like this is his second or third divorce. Still, the word haunts him and follows him around as this sort of shame, this dirty word. He feels like he's judged by teachers and students. Mr. Pascal moved here because he got divorced. That his friends walk on eggshells around him, Pedro hasn't been the same since his divorce. "She cheated on me," he replies, deciding on telling the truth about it. It's the best way to face it, his life fell to shambles because his wife — the woman who he promised to love through sickness and health — decided to find comfort in the arms of another, he can't sleep as well as he used to because he moved out of his home where he had caught them, he couldn't stay there because of the reminders in each hallway what used to be.

He's caught off guard when you make a "tsk" sound, "I can't believe that," you say, "Who can cheat on you? I mean you're sweet, you're funny, and attractive, any woman would be lucky to have you!" While touched by your words that he assumes is meant to be a ego boost, he knows that he didn't give you the entire story.

"I was kind of being a shitty husband, I was drowning myself in work all the time, n' when I wasn't working, I wasn't giving her an equal amount of my time either. She found someone who would, I can't blame her for that." You wave your hand as if that part doesn't matter. "Whatever, I still can't believe someone would cheat on you. I mean, you're a heartthrob, who could let that go?" He knows you don't mean it — if you do, you're too drunk to be willingly saying it. Not to him at least, he underestimated your buzz.

"Who's your driver for tonight?" he asks, choosing not to comment on what you said to save you any embarrassment in case you wake up tomorrow and remember this. "Sam," you say, looking at the dance floor to point to them as if Pedro hadn't ever met them before. When you go to do that, you discover that they're gone. Apparently, they left. Leaving you abandoned, because well, Pedro sure as hell was not going to allow you to drive home. He pays for his drinks, and offers his arm out to you, which you not-so-gracefully stumble into. "Where we goin', Mr. Pascal?" you ask while he guides you to the doors of the bar. You're leaning into his chest, he's a lot leaner than you thought, and he smells vaguely of vanilla. "I'm taking you to my house," he sighs, patting his pockets until he finds his keys, unlocking the car to help you in.

He sighs once he's finally got you into the car, he's thankful that he went because god knows where you could've been by now, and he doesn't want anything happening to you—he's also thankful because he has material to tease you about once you're well enough to understand.

I'm a heartthrob. He thinks, smirking wide as he gets into the driver's seat.

TAGLIST:

@djarinsstuff @doodlebob-mp3 @wanniiieeee @zeyzeys-stuff @jay1bird23 @corpsebridenightamare @queerponcho

#pedro pascal #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #female reader #pedro pascal x reader insert #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic #narcos #joel miller #javier pena #oberyn martell #ghostly wisp #mr. loverman

412 notes · View notes

thisapplepielife · 5 months

Text

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

King Steve

Prompt Day 12: Hallmark Movie Tropes | Word Count: 9963 | Rating: M | CW: Royal Inaccuracies | Tags: King Ralph AU, Unexpected Royalty, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending, Steve POV

This one is also available right here on AO3.

Loosely based on the 1991 comedy King Ralph, starring John Goodman, but this time make it Steddie.

Steve shoves the key into the lock of the Wienerlicious front door, and jiggles it just so, trying to get the damned thing to open. Robin picked this place as their next place of employment, and he's pretty sure it was just to stick him in another goofy uniform so she could call him dingus more often.

Jokes on her. He looks damn good in lederhosen, way better than she does in the milkmaid getup. So, suck it, Robin.

Even if he's too old for this shit. He's nearly thirty, and they're still bouncing from crappy job to crappy job, aimless.

He needs a purpose, but he just hasn't found it. Not yet.

He flips on the lights, and goes through all the opening procedures on his own. Robin won't be in until later, so he's gonna be on his own through the lunch rush. If there is a lunch rush. Sometimes, that's non-existent in this place.

And it seems like today is gonna be one of those days. He hasn't had a customer in an hour, and he's bored out of his goddamn skull. Just watching the hot dogs turn on the roller grill behind him.

Finally, the door swings open, and in walks three stuffy-looking men in suits. Glancing around the place like they're walking in front of a firing squad instead of into a fast food joint.

"Welcome to Wienerlicious," Steve greets.

"We're looking for Mr. Steven Harrington," the first one says in a British accent, and Steve narrows his eyes. He doesn't think he owes money to anyone. Especially not to anyone British. Robin and him might be scraping by, but they've managed to do it all on their own.

"Who's asking?" Steve asks, putting his hands on his hips.

"I'm Gareth Jones and this is Inspector Goodwin and Inspector Williams," the first man says, like that means anything.

Steve doesn't think he's committed a crime, Pink Panther style, but maybe? He wishes he'd stolen some cash or jewels, but he hasn't, so he's not sure why they've sent two inspectors all the way to the Wienerlicious to talk to him.

"And you're here for…" Steve trails off, moving his hand in a hurry up and spit it out motion. He'd rather get this over with.

"Well, sir, that's a private matter for us to discuss with Mr. Harrington," Inspector Goodwin chimes in, and they are definitely British.

"Then, I guess you're shit outta luck," Steve says, moving back to wiping down the counter. "If you decide you want to order something, you let me know."

He watches them look between each other, clearly debating this offer. But they step up to the counter and study the menu, with a hint of disdain, before ordering three number seven combos. Steve makes them, and puts down the red baskets on a tray. Taking their money, and handing over their change.

They're staring at his name tag. Fuck. He forgot he was wearing it.

"Are you Steven Harrington?" Gareth asks, leaning closer, nearly across the counter.

"And if I am?" Steve asks, taking a step back.

"Then we have an exciting opportunity to share with you," Inspector Williams says, gleefully.

"Listen, I'm not gonna, like, sell Amway or knives or anything. So, just. No, thanks."

They look back and forth, like they don't understand what he's talking about.

Steve sighs, "I have a job. I don't want another, no matter how much money you think I'll be able to make, so thanks. But, no thanks."

Because, yeah, he's in lederhosen, but he's working with Robin and he gets a predictable paycheck. It's a fair trade-off.

"Sir, please, just give us a moment of your time," Gareth pleads, and Steve is annoyed.

"Just arrest me if that's what you're here for," Steve says, nodding towards the two inspectors. Robin will sort it out.

"Oh, no, sir. Not at all. They're here for your protection, for your safety," Gareth says, and Steve wrinkles his forehead at that idea. He's pretty sure he doesn't need protection. "Please, just hear me out, sir."

"Fine, one minute," Steve says, following them to a table, and sitting down, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mr. Harrington-"

"Steve," Steve interrupts.

"Steve," Gareth, the chatty one, says, but it seems physically painful for him to get out of his mouth, "it is my glorious duty to inform you that you're the new King of the United Kingdom, Your Majesty."

"The new King of what now?" Steve asks, because he's been King before. Sure, it was Hawkins High and not the United Kingdom, but he'll pass. He's grown and shit since then.

"Of the United Kingdom, and the entire Commonwealth, Your Majesty."

Steve laughs, because why wouldn't he laugh. That's ridiculous.

Then he remembers seeing the news headline that the entire Royal Family had been electrocuted and killed during a holiday photo session, and that they were searching their records for the next heir in line for the throne.

Steve bets they didn't expect to find him in lederhosen, slinging wieners with sauerkraut.

"But I'm an American," Steve finally says, shaking his head.

"We are unfortunately aware, sir," Gareth answers.

"Then, how am I the next in line? That makes no sense." Steve questions, he's never even been to England.

"On your mother's side. There's no delicate way to say this, but your grandmother had an affair with Prince Richard, and your mother was the product of that affair. So, you're in the line of succession for the throne through the House of Wyndam-Pryce bloodline."

"Okay, go talk to my mother then," Steve says, "she'd love to be a Queen."

"It doesn't work quite like that. See, there's what we call male-preference primogeniture-"

"Well, that's just sexist," Steve says, crossing his arms. He doesn't know what that last word means, but he definitely understands male-preference and can fill in the blanks.

"Yes, well, perhaps that's true," Gareth says, looking flustered, then looking excited, "but you could press to change that! As King. With the help of Parliament. You could work to change it."

"Now, Jones," Inspector Williams says, "you know the law prohibits Monarchs from solving problems."

"Yes, well," Gareth says, backing down a little, "that's a different issue altogether."

"This all seems suspect," Steve says. He wishes Robin were here. She'd know what to ask, what to say to all this. "If I'm not solving world problems, which to be honest, I'm not sure I'd be all that great at anyway, what exactly does this even entail? Is it not like being the President here?"

"No, that's more like the Prime Minister," Inspector Goodwin answers, "not exactly, but closer. You, as King, would be a ceremonial figurehead."

Steve is confused, but that's not exactly new.

"I don't understand," Steve says, because he definitely doesn't.

"You are the new King. It's your birthright, sir."

Steve is pretty sure he's not interested in any birthrights. He's seen Buffy. Kristy Swanson was hot, but he doesn't want any of that shit for himself. No fucking way.

Unless.

"How much does it pay?" Steve asks.

"Well, it doesn't, exactly…" Gareth trails off.

"Then, again. No," Steve says, moving to stand.

"But as the sovereign, it all belongs to you. To the Crown," Gareth says, and Steve starts picturing that and now it doesn't sound so bad at all.

"All of it?"

"All of it, Your Majesty," Gareth confirms.

"So, are you willing to go with us, Your Majesty? To England?"

And maybe he'd make a different decision if Robin were here to talk him out of it, but he nods.

"You can't go be the King," Robin says, pacing around the room, one of his shirts clutched in her hands. He jerks it out of her grasp, and stuffs it into his suitcase.

"Apparently, I can," he says, "and you can come with me."

She scoffs, "And do what? Be your lady-in-waiting?"

"Yes!" Steve says, he doesn't know what that is, but yes, if it gets her to come. Absolutely.

"Steve, no," she says, shaking her head.

"We'll get married really quick and you can be my Queen," he says, nodding his head, "think how fun that'd be? You and me? Ruling a whole country?"

"And the Commonwealth," she says, but shakes her head, snapping out of that idea. "No way, they'd make me have your babies."

"Ew," he says.

"Ew, right back at ya, dingus," she says.

"Then, I'll go first. Scope it out. And you can come later, once I'm settled in."

"This is a bad idea, Steve," Robin says, really talking with her hands.

"Careful, I'm the King," Steve teases.

"Not my King, dingus, you better keep that in mind," she says, and he smiles, pulling her to his chest.

"I wish you'd come," he says.

"I don't even have a passport," she says.

"Well, neither do I. But apparently, as the King, that doesn't really matter much."

"Oh, this isn't going to go well," she says, pacing again, worrying some more.

"Maybe not, but it'll be an adventure, right? C'mon. Come with me," he begs, trying to give her the eyes. But she's immune.

"Maybe later. If this sticks. I'll get a passport, legally, and come make fun of you in your stupid cape or whatever," she says, and he hugs her again.

A day later, Steve steps out of the black town car, and looks up. Jesus. This place is wild. Fucking crazy, it's a palace, like, for real. He still kind of assumed they'd been teasing when they showed up at his place of work, explaining that while he was once 46th in line for the throne, that he'd now been bumped up to number one. Just because the entire extended royal family died in a freak accident during a portrait session for their annual Christmas card.

That's a lot to swallow.

Do they not have a designated survivor? Robin has told him about that, in the US. They should have, it seems like. Most definitely.

Water, metal and electricity did not mix. And snap. They were all gone.

And now he's here.

King.

He's being led inside this freaking mansion, and it's way less funny. He's a freaking American. A bastard, apparently, and he shouldn't even be eligible for the throne. Robin looked it up. Made sure he knew that, as she railed on him for even considering doing this.

But they were desperate. And here he is. Steve Harrington, American. King of England. No, Great Britain? United Kingdom? The Commonwealth? He scratches his head and scrunches up his face. He doesn't remember. They went over this on the plane, but he's already forgotten. Shit.

He's just pretty sure it's not the King of England. Even if that sounds right to his American ear.

There's some old, stuffy British dudes waiting to lead him around, and he follows. But he's starting to think he can't be the King. Not again. He's pretty sure being the King of Hawkins High will be nothing in comparison to this. This is actual insanity.

Actual royalty.

They leave him in his new royal bedroom, and you could fit his and Robin's whole apartment inside this one room. He stands and looks out of the window, and feels homesick. He'd rather be in that tiny apartment with her, than here surrounded by all this opulence. He shouldn't have even agreed to get on the plane, especially not without Robin. They couldn't make him accept this offer, he's pretty sure. Even if they were pretty adamant about it, at the time. It felt like he didn't have a choice, even if he's pretty sure he did. Still does, maybe. He hasn't been, like, crowned or anything. He thinks he can still say no, and probably will.

He'd just been hand stomping lemonade and slinging hot dogs, minding his own business. He was just a little delirious and desperate for something new, anything at all.

He was bored.

And then there these stuffy dudes were, telling him he was the new King.

It all happened so fast.

He should call Robin soon, to let her know he landed. He really wants her to move here to be with him, if he decides to stay. Surely, that's something he could make happen, with all this money and all these resources.

Someone clears their throat behind him, and there's a guy, probably about his age, standing there, hands properly folded behind his back. When Steve looks at him, he bows his head at the neck.

"Hey," Steve says, turning to face him fully, "I'm Steve."

"I'm Edward, your private secretary, Your Majesty."

"What can I do for you, Eddie," Steve says, and he watches as the man cringes at the informality of it all. He just doesn't look like an Edward. He looks like an Eddie. But if he doesn't like that, Steve won't force it on him. At least not to his face. Not yet. He'll wear him down, first.

"Nothing for me, sir. What can I do for you?" Eddie asks, stepping a little further into the room.

"Edward, I think I'd just like to go to bed," Steve says, and Eddie moves towards the bed, drawing down the sheets and fluffing his pillows.

It's overkill. But nice.

"Thanks, you don't have to do that, but I appreciate it," Steve says.

"Your dressing room is over there. I'm sure there's some proper sleeping attire," Eddie suggests, pointing towards the right door. "And if you'd like a bath before bed, I can draw one for you, sir."

A bath doesn't sound half bad, but Steve is pretty sure he can run his own bathwater. He might be the King, and isn't that a stupid thought, but he hasn't forgotten how to do basic things for himself, not yet.

Eddie does it for him anyway, despite Steve's protests, and then shows him the little turtle bell on the marble ledge that he can ding if he needs assistance at any time.

"During my bath?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

And Eddie nods, "Any time at all, sir."

That's weird, Steve thinks, but watches as Eddie closes the big double doors, leaving him alone with his bath. He rings the little turtle bell, and Eddie comes back through the doors.

"Your Majesty?" he asks, hands clasped in front of him.

"Are there bubbles?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks taken aback, but quickly nods and produces a bottle of fancy looking bubble bath from a cabinet.

"Thank you," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie nods at him curtly, before leaving. Again.

Steve wants to ring the turtle, just for shits and giggles, but refrains. He wants Eddie to like him. He's close to his age, and maybe they could be friends. Well, maybe not, he's stuffy like his colleagues, just not as stuffy. That's for sure. Gareth and Inspectors Goodwin and Williams aren't exactly old, but they were a little uptight.

When he's good and pruney, he gets out, and wraps a towel around his waist. When he opens the doors, Eddie is standing there, at the ready.

"You can sit down, you know?" Steve says, walking around the edge of the bed.

"I really can't, Your Majesty," Eddie says.

"Says who?" Steve hollers from the walk-in closet, where he's pulling up a pair of silk pajama bottoms. They're nice, and feel good against his skin. He likes them. He's definitely not wearing the matching long-sleeve shirt though. No way. He can't imagine how uncomfortable that'd be to sleep in.

"Royal protocol, sir."

"Aren't I in charge now? So, if I say you can sit, you can sit," Steve says, coming out of the closet, towel drying his hair.

"That's really not how it works, sir," Eddie says, looking away from him. Clearly trying to get Steve to drop it.

He will, for now. But that man is sitting before this is over with. There's no reason for him to stand around all the time. Steve's worked retail. He knows how much that sucks, and he didn't even have to do it in dress shoes.

"Did you need help finding your top, sir?" Eddie asks, and Steve realizes that's why he's being so weird. Oh.

"Do I have to wear it?" Steve asks, pulling his towel over his chest. Maybe he's being weird, or creepy, right now. Is he sexually harassing his secretary? At home this is fine, normal. It's like a locker room, right? They're in his bedroom. But maybe that's not cool here, he has no idea.

"Well, no, sir," Eddie says, "but it would be proper. But you don't have to, I suppose."

Steve tries to slide in bed without flashing his hairy chest at Eddie again, pulling the sheets up to his neck.

"There, I'm in bed," Steve says.

"Very well, sir," Eddie says, pulling the drapes closed, nodding at Steve, and hitting the lights on the way out, "Goodnight."

"'Night," Steve says back, as the door closes, and then he's gone.

And Steve's all alone.

These sheets are super soft, and so is the bed. Steve closes his eyes, and thinks he'll be asleep in no time.

He wakes up to the sun in his eyes, as Eddie is pulling open the heavy curtains.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. Did you sleep alright?" Eddie asks, bowing his head at Steve, and Steve really needs him to stop doing that. It's unnecessary. Steve sits up in bed and scrubs his hand across his face. He did sleep well.

"Yeah, I think I did, thanks," Steve says, stretching, as Eddie goes into his closet and starts selecting clothes.

"We'll have to get you fitted properly today, but these should do for now," he says, laying out a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. A belt.

"Okay," Steve answers. He can wear that. That's not so bad. "What's on today's schedule?"

And he wishes he hadn't asked, because the list Eddie rattles off is never-ending.

"All that today, huh?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. Then steps out into the hallway so Steve can get dressed.

He stands in front of the mirror, trying to tame his hair. He shouldn't have gone to bed with it wet, now it really won't behave. He might need to wash it again. He looks around, and realizes there is no shower in his bathroom. He's gonna need a bathroom with a shower, the bath was fine, but not for everyday use.

"Edward?" Steve says, opening the door, and Eddie follows him back in.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, standing at attention.

"Is there a bathroom with a shower around here that I'll be able to use? I don't need it this morning, because of the bath, but in the future?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie.

"Yes, of course, sir," Eddie says, "I'll show you where that's at this morning."

"Thanks, also? Can I request some specific hairspray?" Steve asks.

Eddie pulls a little notepad out of his pocket, ready to take notes, "Of course, sir."

"Faberge Organics, the Farrah Fawcett spray," Steve says, and watches as Eddie takes notes. He doesn't even laugh at him. Maybe Steve should tell him it was discontinued, like, a decade ago. But it'll be funny to see how much sway this position actually holds. Maybe he'll send some staff member to find a lone can of it, long forgotten on the dusty bottom shelf of a drugstore.

"Of course, sir," Eddie says, putting the notebook back in his jacket pocket.

Steve steps out inside the hall, and isn't sure what he's supposed to do. Eddie must pick up on that because he holds his arm out, motioning for Steve to walk ahead of him.

"I thought I could give you a more in depth tour this morning, sir, if you're feeling up to that?" Eddie asks, trailing him.

Steve pauses, waiting for him to catch up. They start walking again, and Eddie's behind him again. Steve slows his pace, and Eddie slows his own. He feels like he's having to crane his neck back to even see Eddie as he explains all the rooms, all the antiques. The paintings.

That goes on for the whole tour of this floor, and then Steve waits at the top of the long, winding staircase. Eddie waits behind him.

"You do realize I don't know where we're going, right?" Steve says, holding his arm out, inviting Eddie to lead the way.

"Sir, you are the sovereign, no one walks ahead of you. Especially not your staff," Eddie says, and Steve looks at him like he's crazy, because that's a crazy rule. Steve is only King on a huge technicality. He's just a person.

But when it's clear Eddie is not moving until he does, he walks down the stairs, wishing Eddie would just fall into step beside him, at least.

And Eddie gives him the rest of the tour, from two steps over his shoulder. It's kind of weird and uncomfortable.

After the tour, he's led directly into a room to be fitted for new clothes, and Eddie stands nearby.

"We've prepared a few questions to ascertain your knowledge of English history," Eddie says, as they're measuring Steve for a new suit.

Having your inseam taken is a little distracting, even under regular circumstances. Having three different pairs of hands nudging under your balls, right after you've been declared King, is another level of distracting entirely.

"Okay," Steve says, uneasy. He knows he knows nothing about history, "but I can tell you it's almost zero, right up front."

Eddie looks at him and asks, "When Anne Boleyn failed to give him a son, Henry VIII had her…"

Steve thinks, tries to come up with a logical answer, and settles on, "Adopt?"

Eddie looks exasperated, "No. Beheaded."

"Jesus, that's a bit much," Steve mutters, and he swears he sees Eddie tamp down the barest hint of a smile.

"Please pick a fabric, sir," Goodwin says, draping some swatches over his arm and showing Steve.

They all look the same to Steve. Various shades of dark, most with pinstripes.

"You pick, Edward. I trust your judgment," Steve says, because he does. Eddie is dressed nicely, so surely he can pick the right thing for Steve to not look like he's wearing the curtains.

Eddie nods, quick and sharp, and then hands the chosen swatches over to one of the tailors. Pointing at three of them.

After his fitting, Steve is in jeans and a polo, even if Eddie fought him on it. "Here's a few traditional English dishes, sir, some of which you'll be served tonight. The kitchen chose things they thought you might enjoy, and I thought it might be prudent to make sure you're familiar ahead of time."

Steve nods. Okay. He can do food. He likes food.

"Roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, fish and chips, bangers and mash, and of course, spotted dick."

Steve's eyebrows shoot up as he looks at the bowl full of dicks in front of him that he had assumed were sausages.

He grabs the silver tongs, and picks one up, carefully inspecting it like it might be a bomb, before looking at Eddie.

"Dick of what?" he asks, scared of the answer.

Eddie chuckles, "You're holding a banger. A sausage," he clarifies, pointing to some other dish, "that's the spotted dick, sir. It's a dessert."

Steve looks and can see the raisins. The spots of the spotted name, he assumes. That's more reassuring.

"Please, sir, try it," Eddie says, so Steve lets him serve him a plate, so he can try everything so there's not an embarrassing incident at tonight's dinner.

"Sit, eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie shakes his head.

"No, sir," Eddie says.

"Edward, live a little," Steve coaxes, kicking out a chair leg, an invitation, but Eddie doesn't budge. Just stands at attention, a few feet behind Steve while he eats. It's good. He likes it. Even the spotted dick, which he can't even think about without laughing. How is he going to be able to eat it, or say it, in a public setting? Impossible.

"This is all good, I was scared what you might bring me, to be real honest," Steve says.

Eddie smiles, "Well, we went easy on you. I didn't think you were ready for the black pudding or haggis."

"I don't know what that is," Steve admits.

"For the best," Eddie teases, and Steve smiles at him.

"Tell me about yourself, Edward," Steve says, using his fork and knife to cut into one of the bangers.

"I'm here to serve you, sir," Eddie says, and Steve looks back over his shoulder at him and rolls his eyes.

"No, about you. Not about me in relation to you, just about you."

"Sir, I don't really…" Eddie trails off, like he doesn't know what to say.

Steve won't make him talk, but he sure wishes he would. He'd like to get to know him better.

"If you won't sit, would you at least come over here where I can see you?" Steve asks, and he's happy when Eddie concedes, and comes into his line of sight.

"How long have you worked at the palace?" Steve asks.

"Nearly ten years, sir. I've been a secretary for about two years, though. After my uncle retired, I was chosen to fill his duties."

Steve nods, hoping Eddie will continue and elaborate further. He doesn't.

So, Steve eats while Eddie stands by, quietly.

And it's weeks of meetings, fittings, lessons. Eddie and the rest of the staff are working diligently to get him ready to face the press and public.

Steve's trying. He really is, but it's a lot to comprehend. He doesn't understand all the rules, all the protocols, and he is constantly on the wrong foot. Doing something stupid, saying something stupid. He's never gonna catch on to this.

He flops back on his bed. He's going to make a fool of himself, and the Crown.

Eddie comes in later, and takes one look at him, and starts digging in Steve's walk-in closet. He comes out with an all-white outfit and instructs Steve to put it on.

Steve does. He's stopped fighting. Stopped asking why, a long time ago. It doesn't matter why, none of them care. He's just a small cog, in a big wheel. He's in charge, but he isn't. Not at all. None of his choices are his own. He's not sitting on a throne barking orders. He's following, trying to please the people around him. Trying to please Eddie.

Once he's dressed, Eddie takes him out to the yard of the palace, and gets down and straps big pads to his shins. They look like oversized, shin guards for baseball catchers. But padded. He was a catcher for one season in high school and hated it. It's the hardest job on the field, he's pretty sure. Pitching was easier. He did that in little league for a while.

He's standing there in his padded shin guards, looking at Eddie for guidance. Eddie hands him a paddle. Steve tries to hold it like a baseball bat, and Eddie laughs, while trying to help him correct his grip.

"This is a cricket bat, not a baseball bat, sir," Eddie says with a smile.

"Oh, so more like croquet?" Steve says, lowering the bat in front of him, and Eddie grins.

"You know how to play croquet?" Eddie asks, looking surprised.

"Sure," Steve says, "I might not be royalty, but I do come from a rich family. Back home. We definitely played croquet from time to time."

Eddie smiles, and nods, "It's not like croquet. You want to keep the ball away from your wicket, not aim it towards it," Eddie explains, helping him adjust his grip, again. His instinct is still to draw it up like a bat, twirl it around in his hand. Test its heft. But Eddie tells him to keep it down, in front of him, to protect his wicket, the three stumps and two bails balanced behind him.

Once Steve is in place, Eddie yells, "Bowler!"

And the guy downfield throws the ball at him in a goofy fashion, bouncing it in front of him, and Steve hits it. And it sails up and away. They do it over and over. This is something he's actually picked up on quickly for once, and it's fun. Steve hits the shit out of the next one, and declares it a home run.

Eddie laughs, "A maximum, sir, but yes, the same idea, I suppose. Six runs."

If it bounces to the boundary, it's worth four Eddie declares, and eventually Eddie goes to the other side of the little dirt rectangle, and they teach Steve how to run back and forth to accumulate runs that way, if he doesn't hit it out of the park.

"You can lead with your bat, sir, get it over the crease ahead of you," Eddie says.

"The line? The baseline?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Yes, sir, that," Eddie grins.

And he runs past Eddie once more, passing in the middle, and he reaches up as they go past each other, offering him his hand, a high five.

Eddie clearly isn't sure about this, but still puts his hand up, and they touch as they run by each other, each headed to the opposite end from where they started.

When they've finished, Steve leans over, his hands on his knees, breathing hard. But he's happy right now.

Once he stands, he looks at Eddie, smiling, and asks, "Do you want to play croquet next?"

And Eddie laughs, honest to god laughs, and it makes Steve smile, big and bright. It's a great sound, and he hopes to hear it more often.

"Sure, Your Majesty, we can play croquet," Eddie says, and sends the pages to go find the equipment.

Pads shucked to the side in the grass, Steve watches as Eddie lines up his shot.

"Don't do it, don't even think about it," Steve says, breathing down Eddie's neck, taunting him as he tries to line up his mallet with the croquet ball.

Eddie laughs, and nudges him backwards with his elbow, and then freezes, like he's realized what he's done. Steve just shoves him back a little, hopefully assuring him that it's fine, that he likes this. That this feels normal, at least almost, and that's fucking priceless. To his sanity, to his heart.

He's homesick for Robin, for America, honestly.

He wants to watch baseball or basketball on TV. He wants to drive his car. He wants a pizza, a burger, or some fried chicken. Anything. He can ask for anything he'd like to eat, and they'll bring it, but it's always a fancy version. They seem to have an aversion to actually just going out and getting him the junk food he's missing.

This has been a huge responsibility to take on, one he doesn't fully understand, with a very steep learning curve. But right now, they are just two guys playing a sport together, for fun.

That he understands, fully.

"This is the most fun I've had since I've gotten here," Steve says, standing next to Eddie as he whacks the ball through the hoop.

"I'm glad to hear that, sir."

Once the game is over, Steve stands there in the grass, happy. He looks at Eddie, "What sport can you teach me next?"

Eddie just laughs, "Polo, I suppose. How do you feel about horses?"

And then it's back to the unfun parts. Steve showers, and throws on the clothes Eddie has laid out for him. And he attends meetings. He has his weekly Audience with the Prime Minister, one-on-one, without Eddie present. They always make him feel nervous that he's going to fuck up.

But it's only twenty minutes. He can do anything for twenty minutes.

Eddie works sports into his tight schedule, and Steve appreciates it. It's not everyday, but it's as often as they can fit it in, and they play and Steve pushes himself. To get better. To have fun.

To impress Eddie, a little, with the one thing he's been good at here.

Steve's having a bad day, and he's had enough, so he pulls a baseball hat over his head, and walks out of the front door. Nobody stops him, but he's pretty sure that's just because they've never had to deal with a Monarch that was trying to escape the way he is. But he's had all of this he can take today.

He doesn't get far down the road, before he realizes he is being followed. He turns and looks, and there's Eddie. So, Steve slows down, stalls, waiting for him to catch up.

"You coming with me, or are you going back to tattle?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Where are we going, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, falling in step behind him.

"I'm hungry. I want some food, some American food. Something I'm familiar with. No spotted dick, or whatever the fuck that was. Is there something around here that I'll recognize?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, and then he waits for Steve to start walking again, keeping two paces behind him.

Steve glances back at him, "How did you end up working for the royal family?"

"My family. It's just what we've always done," Eddie says. "My uncle had this position before I did. When he retired, the last King asked for me to step in, to keep with some sort of continuity, I suppose. He'd known me for a long time, since my childhood."

"I'm sorry you lost your friend," Steve says.

Eddie pauses, like nobody has ever said that to him before, "Thank you, sir."

Steve nods, "Well, what would you like to do instead?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him, like he hadn't expected the question.

"Working for the royal family is the highest honor," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

"Okay, that's bullshit. You don't want to serve people. You don't want to serve me. That's not your dream. What do you want to do? What would make you happy?" Steve presses.

Eddie looks at him, like this might be a trap, even if it really isn't. Steve genuinely wants to know what Eddie likes to do. He wants to know anything Eddie will tell him. Which really, really hasn't been much. He's definitely not very forthcoming about anything personal.

"I like to play music," Eddie finally says.

"That's cool," Steve says, meaning it, "are you any good?"

"Not bad, I don't think. I play with my friends in a little four piece, when I have the time. The palace requires a lot of my time," Eddie says, and then looks embarrassed. "Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy to be at your service, sir."

"Steve," Steve says, "please, just call me Steve."

"King Steve," Eddie says, and smiles at him, just a little. Steve realizes Eddie's teasing him, and it makes Steve happy. Like they might be friends. Or could be, in time. He definitely needs a friend here.

"Well, that's not the first time I've been called that, so it's an improvement. For sure. But try to work it down to just Steve, in the future. At least while we're alone."

Eddie nods, but he doesn't look like that's going to be something he'll ever do.

They walk a little further, and Eddie stops in front of a Kentucky Fried Chicken. Perfect.

Eddie ushers him inside, and into a hidden corner booth, before going up to order. When he comes back, he gently puts down the tray, and acts like he's going to start setting everything up, like this is a state dinner. It's definitely not.

"Just sit. Eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie looks uncomfortable.

"That's really not…"

"Does it look like I care, Eddie? Please?" Steve asks, and he pushes a styrofoam plate in his direction, and starts loading it up.

"Are you a breast, leg or thigh man?" Steve asks, and Eddie blushes a pretty pink.

Steve's pretty sure he's not a breast man, and that's more than okay with him. Maybe he can use that in his favor, someday, hopefully.

"Anything is fine, si-"

"Steve," Steve corrects.

"Steve," Eddie whispers, like he might be caught and reprimanded.

Steve smiles, and puts a couple different pieces on Eddie's plate, then some mashed potatoes. Gravy. A couple biscuits, and looks at Eddie as he pushes it his way.

Eddie is just looking down at it.

Steve reaches down and picks up his thigh with his hands, and takes a bite.

"Finger lickin' good," he says, and Eddie giggles, as he picks up a piece himself, and takes a bite. It looks awkward, and a little dainty, but it thrills Steve that he's playing along. Getting a little more comfortable with him.

He wants to get to know him, Eddie, the man under the suit. Maybe the man, out of the suit.

On the walk back, Steve looks back at Eddie.

"Eddie?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him.

"Yes?"

"Was there really nobody else? Is it me…or nothing?" Steve asks, because he's pretty sure he can't do this. Doesn't want to. At least not long-term. Not for his entire life. He's given it a good go, but he's not feeling it, at all.

"Well," Eddie says, drawing out the word, seemingly unsure if he should keep talking.

"Well, what?" Steve asks, pausing, and pulling Eddie off the sidewalk and into a little hedgerow. They stand there looking at each other.

"There was one other option, but he didn't want to do it, so I kept my mouth shut," Eddie says, looking at the ground.

"So, that guy could say no, but I'm just the schmuck who had to accept this thing? This weight on my shoulders?" Steve asks.

"I didn't know you then. You were just a name, a profile, on paper," Eddie explains, still looking down.

"And you knew the other guy?"

Eddie nods.

"Who is it? Do I know him?"

Eddie looks up, quietly asking Steve if he'll keep this secret, and Steve reluctantly nods.

"My Uncle Wayne," Eddie says, "he's retired, and already he did his duty to the Crown, and didn't want that kind of spotlight trained on him. He just wanted to go on, living his normal life. He didn't ask for it any more than you did."

Steve nods, he understands, even if it doesn't make him feel much better.

"Oh," Steve says, "I understand. I just wish, well, that I'd have been given more of a choice, too. If I said no, they'd have found him, eventually, right?"

Eddie nods, "I'm sorry, sir."

Steve gets it. Unless he wants to make that old, retired man sit on the throne, he's stuck.

"It's okay, Eddie. But I feel alone here, most of the time, so I'd like Robin to move here. Can that happen?"

Eddie shakes his head, looking sad.

"Sir, they're never going to allow you to marry your American girlfriend. It's been a hard enough sell for you."

Steve laughs, pushing his bangs back off of his forehead, "Girlfriend? No way. She's my best friend. Platonic with a capital P, only."

"Oh, well, then, yes. I'm sure we could arrange for that to happen, assuming she'd like to come."

Steve grins, wide. That's the best news he's gotten in weeks.

They start walking again, "Do you live at the palace?" Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles, and shakes his head, "No, sir, I don't live at the palace. It just seems like it."

He's teasing, and it makes Steve smile.

"Where do you live, then?" Steve asks.

"Right around the corner, actually," Eddie says, and Steve stops walking.

"Can we go see it?" Steve asks.

"You want to go to my flat, sir?" Eddie questions.

Steve realizes that was probably rude to invite himself over, "Only if you want me to. You're not obligated, of course."

"I didn't think I was obligated, Steve," Eddie says, "but it might not exactly be tidy. I wasn't expecting a royal to want to visit me at home."

"Do I look like I'm gonna care about that?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles, and redirects them, but still keeps just behind his shoulder.

Eddie's apartment is nice, and not as messy as he'd sold it as. Steve looks around, at the pictures on the walls. At his guitar on a stand by the couch. Eddie is digging in the fridge and brings him a beer, which Steve takes with enthusiasm. He's been offered wine, and liquor, at the palace, but this is just a regular beer. That he'll be allowed to drink out of the bottle, no glass in sight.

It feels like home, and he twists off the cap, sliding it into his shirt pocket.

Eddie sits next to him on the couch, and they drink, and just make small talk. It feels normal. Cozy. Like he's in someone's home, instead of a museum, and he longs for a place like this to call his own again. He took it for granted back home, and now he misses those days. Misses Robin.

They don't stay long, and just walk back to the palace after they've finished their beers, but it's the best night Steve's had since he's gotten to this country.

"I can't move to London," Robin says across the ocean through the phone, and Steve slumps at his desk.

"But, I miss you," Steve says, twisting the cord around his fingers.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you packed your shit and ran away to play King," Robin snarks.

She's teasing, but it's true.

"Will you at least come to visit?" he asks, hoping. Begging.

"Of course," she says, "if you're paying."

"I'm paying. I'm the King, you know. Just be aware you'll have to curtsy to me," he teases.

"Yeah, never gonna happen, dingus."

But she agrees, so he puts Eddie on the case to set it all up through his office.

"I want to go to the movies," Steve declares suddenly, and Eddie looks over at him. They're sitting across from each other at a desk, as Steve's going over paperwork from his red box. Signing what he needs to sign, asking Eddie about what he still doesn't understand.

"The movies?" Eddie questions.

"Yeah, you know, a movie theater?"

"I'll see what I can do, sir," Eddie says, with a smile.

That night, Eddie guides him to a secluded room. And it's a private theater. Right in the palace.

"This has been here all along?" Steve asks.

"Well, yes, sir, but it's really for the staff. But I cleared it tonight, for you."

Steve doesn't even care what they watch, he just wants to have some fun.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, settling into one of the chairs. Patting the one beside him for Eddie to sit, and after Eddie's collected a bucket of already prepared popcorn from a table, he does sit, and hands it over to Steve.

They sit side-by-side, watching a movie, sharing the bucket of popcorn, and it feels normal for a couple hours. He could have been on a date, a regular date back home, tonight.

But it's Eddie, and he can't kiss him at the end of the night, even if he'd like to. This gift from him was more than enough.

Eddie follows him back to his bedroom, and turns down the bed, and Steve stands there, watching him.

"Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I had a lot of fun," Steve says.

"Me too, sir," Eddie answers, "goodnight."

Steve is standing out on the step, bouncing on his feet, nervous. Excited. Robin is on the way, and when they finally pull up with her, she leaps out of the car and runs straight into his arms. Not a curtsy in sight. He catches her and spins her, hugging her tight. He didn't realize it until this very moment, that one of the things he's been missing the most is human touch. None of these people touch him. No friendly hands on a shoulder, or arm.

No reassurance. No checking on his emotional needs. No comforting him. No checking in, at all. He's just supposed to function, as is, all on his own, he supposes.

He's been needing a hug, he realizes, and he buries his face in her neck, and if it's weird, she's going with it.

"I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to my new home," he says, and she grabs his hand, and he lets her pull him into the palace and up the staircase, at a near run. Dodging staffers, who bow to him as he is dragged past them. They clearly disapprove, but he doesn't give a shit. This is the most normal thing he's experienced in weeks.

She pauses at the top of the staircase, but only because she doesn't know where she's going.

He nods to the left, and he's being pulled along again, giving her directions to his bedroom, and once they're inside, she launches herself onto his bed, bouncing.

He smiles, and hops up next to her.

"Holy shit, Steve, look at this place!" she shouts, eyes wide as she looks around.

"I know, right?" he asks, but he's only looking at her. She's the only thing in this whole room that he cares about, that he loves.

That night he wraps his arm over her side, crowding up behind her, and she lets him hold her, "I'm so happy to see you."

"You better not be that kind of happy to see me," she says, contorting to get away from his crotch.

He laughs, laying his head on his pillow, "I'll try to keep it in check."

"You better, dingus."

And dingus sounds like a better, more fitting, title than King ever has, a thousand times over.

He wants to be her dingus, he doesn't want to be the King.

Steve is startled awake in the morning, by Eddie at the foot of his bed.

"Oh, Your Majesty, I do apologize," Eddie says, starting to back away from the bed, "I didn't realize you had company."

Robin looks at him, giving him the once over, "Well, not that kind of company, Jeeves. Let's get that straight."

Steve laughs, and nods, "Definitely not that kind of company, Eddie."

"We're best friends," Robin says.

"Platonic with a capital P," Eddie repeats, "as Your Majesty has said."

"Your Majesty," Robin says with a cackle, rolling towards him, and he slaps her on the arm, and it just makes her laugh harder. "King Dingus."

"He hasn't picked a regnal name yet, so perhaps that could be an option?" Eddie says, and Steve can't believe it. It's the funniest thing Eddie's ever said in Steve's presence, by far.

Steve laughs, throwing his head back, melting into the bed again.

Eddie just looks confused, and a little alarmed. But he still draws back the curtains, and brings Steve and Robin in a wheeled cart full of breakfast and coffee.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says.

"Sir, madam," Eddie says, and he bows his head at the neck, and then he's gone.

As soon as the door closes, Robin slugs Steve in the arm, "You have a crush on Jeeves!"

Steve doesn't even try to deny it, just smiles, "Yeah, that's Eddie."

Robin stays two weeks, and then she goes back home to their real life. And Steve's agitated. He misses her. He should have gone home with her.

Eddie comes in carrying a large, heavy by the look of it, cardboard box. Great, now what?

"What's that?" Steve asks, standing to go take a look as Eddie places it down on the table.

"Your hairspray, Your Majesty," Eddie says, opening the flaps, "I'm sorry it took so long. I had to convince Unilever to engage in a short, private production run, just for you, sir."

"No fucking way," Steve says, reaching in to pick up a can, and it's really it.

He grabs Eddie and hugs him, shaking him around, and Eddie is just a ragdoll in his arms, but Steve could kiss him, he's so happy.

"Thank you, Eddie, you're now my favorite person. Robin, who?" he teases, immediately taking a can to the bathroom.

Eddie follows, and watches him as he sprays it on his hair and tries to style it, even though it's not wet.

"Just wait until tomorrow, I'll look so damn good," Steve says, and he meets Eddie's eyes in the mirror, and Eddie's blushing.

"I'm sure you will, sir," Eddie says, and Steve can feel it between them. The sexual tension. The attraction. He's not sure how to do anything about it, if he even can.

But he wants to, and it's nice to have that feeling again. About anyone. And he's happy it's Eddie that's making him feel like this, because he really likes him a lot.

"Can we go swimming today?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at the schedule, and nods.

"I think we can fit that in this evening, if you'd like, sir," Eddie answers.

"Yes, please," Steve says.

That evening, they walk down to the private pool and Eddie stands there while Steve strips off his shirt.

"Aren't you coming in?" Steve asks. He's assumed Eddie would. It's a sport, and that's one of the few things they do together, as almost equals.

"Sir?" Eddie questions.

"C'mon, get in!" Steve shouts, laughing, splashing water towards Eddie, which Eddie dodges easily. But Eddie nods. Disappearing into one of the locker rooms.

Steve's taking bets with himself, if Eddie will be in one of those silly old-fashioned, striped swim costumes with shoulder straps when he comes back.

He's not.

He's just wearing a pair of basic black trunks, and Steve can't help it as his eyes rake over Eddie's pale, exposed skin.

Steve's not sure he's even seen Eddie's forearms, let alone is his bare chest. He has a tattoo. More than one, it looks like, and Steve grins. Fully enjoying the view. Maybe he's not as buttoned-up as he appears on the surface.

Eddie comes down the steps and pushes off, and swims towards Steve.

"What now, sir?" Eddie asks, treading water.

"I was thinking about laps, but anything would be good with me," Steve says. As long as he's with Eddie, he's in.

And they fall into lane lines, and Steve breathes to his left so he can see Eddie, and for once, they are side-by-side, equals. They both do a flip-turn and push off, resurfacing together. Steve smiles, and keeps kicking.

He feels normal, here, now. Swimming. His teammate beside him. And Eddie is his teammate, maybe the only one he has in this place. He's surrounded by people, but he feels like Eddie is the only one that ever actually sees him.

And he's happy as they swim, together, until they are both struggling to breathe, clinging to the side of the pool. Steve rests his head on his arms, and feels good. Really, really good.

His happiness doesn't last long.

The next morning, Gareth comes into his office, with four or five other staffers trailing behind him.

"Your Majesty, we'd like to discuss taking the first steps towards the wedding," Gareth says.

"Whose wedding?" Steve asks.

"Yours, sir," Gareth says, and Steve sees red. He knew they were scheming to set him up on dates with various available women, but this is too far. He'll be the King, but marrying a stranger isn't happening.

"I'm not getting married!" Steve snaps as he storms out, turning to hold his hand up, giving the universal motion to stop, demanding that they not follow.

Steve only wants to find Eddie.

Eddie is walking down the hallway, and Steve accosts him.

"This is too far, you can't tell me who to marry, Eddie!" Steve yells, and Eddie quickly grabs him by the arm, and pulls him into Steve's bedroom, and shuts the door behind them. Locking them inside.

"Your Majesty, please, it's for the good of the country. To protect your bloodline, your birthright. You're the last. You need to marry, and produce heirs. That's just how it's done."

"I'm not the last and you know it!" Steve screams.

"Please," Eddie says softly, like he's trying to tame Steve, "please consider doing this. It's the right thing to do."

Steve crosses his arms across his chest, "Absolutely not."

"Sir, please," Eddie says.

"Stop calling me sir, if you're gonna fuck me over, at least use my name, for god's sake."

"Steve," Eddie says, "we aren't doing this to hurt you."

"Well, it sure feels like you are. What about love? What about who I love?" Steve asks, his voice softer.

"Love must be subordinated for the good of the monarchy, Steve," Eddie says, his voice softer now, too.

Eddie has called him Steve, here, and Steve can't even be happy about it.

"No. No way. No, no, no."

"Princess Caroline is a perfectly acceptable choice. You need to do this."

"You're serious?" Steve snaps.

"Yes!" Eddie snaps back.

"I won't, I'm not marrying someone I don't love!" Steve assures loudly, and he means that. They can't make him. "This place is terrible, this job, it's bullshit! It's all bullshit! I'd rather be selling hot dogs, or ice cream, than to be locked up here in this gilded cage! At least at home my choices were my own and I could fuck up my life any damn way I saw fit!" Steve screams.

"Steve," Eddie says, scrubbing his hands over his face and Steve's never seen him this undone, "Why? Why are you fighting this? This is just how things are done."

"You know why," Steve says, crossing the room and closing the space between them.

"I don't…that's not…" Eddie mutters, looking anywhere but at Steve.

"Eddie," Steve says, taking him by the shoulders, "look at me."

Eddie does, reluctantly.

"I can't marry Princess Caroline, because I love you."

Eddie's face falls, like he's just been given terrible news, and Steve's stomach drops. He's miscalculated this, all of this, and immediately lets go of him. They haven't been flirting, they haven't been anything to each other. Steve has misinterpreted their whole thing.

He feels sick.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Steve says, taking a step back, "I shouldn't have said that to you. Please, don't-"

But his words are cut off, when Eddie is suddenly moving towards him, and finally, finally presses his lips to Steve's.

Steve reaches his hand up, and cups the back of Eddie's head. It's better than he'd even fantasized about. He kisses him, over and over, holding him. Finally touching him in all the ways he's longed to, for months.

"Eddie," Steve breathes out, once they've separated, and Eddie just smiles at him and takes him by the hand, leading him towards the truly outlandish bed. He hadn't dreamed this is where the day would end up, even if he'd dared to hope.

Eddie pushes Steve onto his back on the bed, and the dynamic has shifted in a way that Steve loves. Yes, please. More of this. He watches as Eddie pulls off his jacket, his tie, and unbuttons his dress shirt.

It's the best strip tease Steve's witnessed in his whole life.

And when Eddie crawls on top of him, in just his underwear, Steve laughs and wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him close. Pressing kisses to his shoulder, his chest, anywhere he can reach.

After, Steve brushes his hand through Eddie's hair, holding him, as they lay together. Eddie's legs are tangled with his, and they're comfortable here, together.

"I need to quit," Steve says, softly.

"I know you do," Eddie answers, pressing his lips to Steve's chest.

"Will your uncle take over? If I do?" Steve asks.

"I'll talk to him," Eddie assures.

"Will you go with me when I leave? Or will you need to stay with him?" Steve asks.

"At first, I'll feel I'm obligated to stay," Eddie says, "he's my uncle. He raised me. But after he gets settled, perhaps."

Perhaps isn't a no, so Steve takes that as good news, and just pulls him closer while he has the chance.

"Maybe, you'd like to settle in with me here at my flat, for a stretch. Before you go home," Eddie suggests and Steve nods. Absolutely. Yes, to that. Please.

Eddie and his speechwriters help him perfect his abdication speech, and write his Instrument of Abdication letter. Wayne Munson, at his side. Stoic and quiet, but willing now, to accept this responsibility.

Steve signs it, and Eddie, Gareth, Goodwin and Williams all sign as witnesses to his signature.

And it's done, basically.

"You boys do realize I have no children, so this might come right back to you, after I'm gone," Wayne says softly.

And Steve and Eddie both nod. They know. But they appreciate this time Wayne's given them, to live and love. It's a gift, because he loves Eddie and wants him to be happy. Steve knows that, and he won't take it for granted. Not ever.

In a few days time, he's standing before Parliament, something he's never had to do, before now.

"My Lords and Members of the House of Commons, I know it is unusual for a King to address you in this manner, but I have some things I'd like to say, that I'd like for you to hear them in person, from me," he starts, before going on to apologize for being too set in his ways, too American for this duty. But he explains that there is another heir, an English one, also born into the House of Wyndam-Pryce. He tells them that it was discovered after Steve had assumed the throne, but now that he knows, he feels it only right to step down. He introduces Wayne, and turns over the Crown, happily.

As soon as he steps back from the podium, he feels like the weight of the world has left his shoulders. He walks out into the sunshine and smiles, closing his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky.

He's a free man, once again.

Eddie is waiting, and takes his hand, and finally, for once, Eddie steps out ahead of him, leading the way.

There are lots of people standing around watching him pack, and Steve looks around, "Are they scared I'm going to steal something?"

Eddie laughs, "Well, maybe. You can't take anything that belongs to the Crown."

"I only want to take one thing with me," Steve says, smiling.

Eddie grins, lowering his voice, "Me?"

"Okay, well, two things," Steve teases, and Eddie cocks his head, curious.

Steve walks down the staircase, carrying the giant cardboard box of hairspray. Eddie holds the door open for him, and then helps him put it in the trunk. Technically, it belongs to the Crown, but Steve is sure they'll never miss it. If Wayne wants him beheaded for taking it, bring it on. The man hardly has any hair at all left, so he definitely doesn't have a pressing need for hairspray.

"So, how was it to be King?" Eddie asks, settling into the back of the town car beside him.

"Well, I met you and I got a lifetime supply of my favorite hairspray, so pretty good, overall," Steve teases, and reaches over and takes Eddie's hand, looking at the window as the palace grows smaller in the distance behind them.

He's not the King, not anymore.

But he's Eddie's boyfriend, his partner, and he's pretty sure that's a way more important role for him to try and fill.

Notes: This originally started for Steddie Holiday Drabbles, but the length got away from me. And then really got away from me. I couldn't condense this into 1000 words, it seems. So, I did something different for that Royalty AU and used this one here.

Royalty isn't really in my wheelhouse, but King Ralph popped into my head, and made me cackle. Sure, I'll make American Steve an unlikely King. No problem.

I'm sure Eddie had the job of about a dozen men, here. Go with it.

Also? John Goodman is a damn delight. Nobody could deliver the "dick of what?" line better than that, though I had Steve try.

Wienerlicious was from the show Chuck.

House of Wyndam-Pryce is a Buffy joke. That's Wesley's last name, and Wyndham was the fictional name in King Ralph. So it seemed fitting.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

#steddiemas #hallmark movie tropes #royalty au #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #king steve #platonic stobin #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas

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spartanguard · 9 days

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when Emma falls in love [from the vault]

Summary: When Emma falls in love, I know that boy will never be the same | When she came to Storybrooke, finding love was the farthest thing from Emma's mind. Until she started to get to know Ian, the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole. A crush is the last thing she needs—not when she's in the middle of a murder investigation and her son keeps talking about curses. Or maybe it's exactly what both of them need. [Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift] A/N: This is the next in my series of fics inspired by Taylor Swift's vault tracks (mostly from Speak Now (Taylor's Version), but there will be more!). Wanted to post this before we all died from TTPD tomorrow ;) I think this is also my favorite of the ones I've written so far; hope you like it, too! And, as always, thank you to @optomisticgirl for being the best beta ever. rated T | 6.2k words | AO3

When the door swung open, Emma was half expecting it to be someone from downstairs yelling at her to stop her pacing; too many years living in crappy apartments had done that to her. But it was just Mary Margaret, coming home from work.

That said— “Uh, you okay? If you pace any harder, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” her roommate remarked.

“Ugh, sorry,” Emma answered, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the counter. “It was that or attacking the toaster again.”

“You didn’t get fired again, did you?” Mary Margaret asked as she set a bag of groceries on the counter. “‘Cause last I checked, you were your own boss.”

Emma scoffed. “No; just…other stuff.” She swallowed. “Boy stuff?” (She wasn’t sure why she said it like it was a question, other than the fact that she’d never been one to talk about relationships or anything—never had anyone she could talk to about that, so she wasn’t sure if this was the right way to start.)

“Well, that’s convenient,” Mary Margaret said, and reached into the paper sack. “I bought wine,” she finished, pulling out a cheap screw-top bottle of rosé.

“Might need more than that.”

“Good thing I got two,” she answered, producing another.

They curled up at opposite ends of the couch, not even bothering with wine glasses. After a few (hefty) sips, Mary Margaret looked at her pointedly and Emma was suddenly very aware of why her students respected her so much. “Okay. Spill.”

Emma sighed, but obliged. “Okay, you know the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole?”

“Not well, but I know who he is. Ian, right?”

“Yeah, Ian Johnson. He, uh…I mean, I…” She hummed. “I think I like him.”

“Oh my god, you sound like one of my fifth graders,” Mary Margaret replied. “You’re attracted to him? Or maybe a little more?”

Emma took another pull from her bottle. “Maybe a lot more.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

(His ass was fantastic, but that was beside the point.) “But…you know how I am. My history. It hasn’t really been that long since Graham…” She still had a hard time saying died.

“I know,” Mary Margaret said softly. “No one says you have to rush into anything. But if you’re feeling something, it doesn’t hurt to pursue it. Especially if he seems to reciprocate.”

Well, that was her other conundrum, wasn’t it: did he? Much like her, he wasn’t really prone to showing emotion—not noticeably, at least; he wore an air of apathy as well as he did his dark-wash jeans. In fact, she didn’t give him much thought after she first met him—when she’d been called to the bar to drag Leroy to the drunk tank on one of her first overnight shifts as a deputy.

She’d definitely seen him, though; Ian was certainly easy on the eyes—perfectly disheveled hair above light blue eyes, just the right amount of gingery stubble, and a hint of chest hair visible through the open vee of his appropriately tight henley—but her thoughts towards him didn’t go deeper than the surface. She also hadn’t missed the quick once-over he gave her, though she couldn’t tell if it was in appreciation or merely assessment.

It wasn’t until her following visit (Leroy’s next trip to the station’s overnight accommodations) that he did more than hum at her, but there was very little effort in the casual pickup line he threw at her (and she did her damnedest to ignore the lilt of his foreign accent).

She knew his kind—or so she thought: the type of asshole who hid behind a pretty face and a quick come-on and that was all it took to get into a girl’s pants. Frankly, that was something she’d fallen for a few too many times, but not here—not in Storybrooke. Not when Regina was constantly looking for a reason to send her out of town (even if she won that sheriff election fair and square, Gold’s involvement notwithstanding) or limit her time with Henry.

It wasn’t until the first time she got a call at the bar after Graham died that she exchanged more than passing pleasantries with him. Ian wasn’t the first to express his condolences, but he was the first to say, “It’s just not fair.” That was exactly how she felt, too. And that’s when things started to shift between them.

(Apparently, he and Graham went way back—he didn’t specify how far, but it sounded like a while, the kind of vague forever that seemed prevalent in such a small town. Graham had helped him out of a few scrapes, and vice versa. “He was a good man,” Ian had concluded. “Seems those always go too soon.” It felt like there was more to go with that statement, but then “Only the Good Die Young” had come on the jukebox and it was a little too on the nose and she had to get out of there.)

But it really took a turn the night he intervened while she was breaking up a bar fight, getting in the way of a drunken punch meant for her and taking it in the cheek instead. (That was also the night she finally noticed his left arm ended not in a hand, but a prosthesis, as she made the assailant wait in the squad car while she put together an ice pack for Ian’s face; she also found out that night that he mixed a mean whiskey sour.)

So they were…she wasn’t sure if they could really say “friends” after that—not quite a team, either; allies, maybe? Whatever it was, it was definitely something she needed.

She started to run into him at Granny’s after that. The first time, she was getting her morning coffee before heading into the station; he was getting some tea before heading home after closing the bar. Then they’d see each other at lunch hour; if the diner was full, they shared a booth. But then that became something of a habit, too, on the days he didn’t close and she didn’t work overnight (though they eventually started another of sharing a drink at the end of their late-night shifts).

Admittedly, it was a little awkward at first; Emma had never been great at the whole small-talk thing (and even worse at the making-friends thing)—but on the bright side, so was he. She found out little things, like when a favorite song would come on (“Behind Blue Eyes” was up there, unsurprisingly/heartbreakingly), or when she’d ask for a liquor recommendation (rum—always rum). She let slip at one point how much she enjoyed Motown, and he quickly picked up on her hot chocolate order.

More solid information came to light later; as she’d guessed, he was a loner, too—no family left, and had drifted around England and the US until he ended up in Storybrooke, somehow. He made an appreciative comment about her being a fellow jailbird over a beat-up copy of that awful article in the Mirror, but his face fell when she mentioned how old she’d been—a rare emotional moment for him. (But not as intense as when she’d commented on the tattoo on his forearm late one night, and the unmistakable look of loss took over; all they could do at that point was make a toast to living through heartbreak.)

It was…she didn’t want to say easy, but it was nice—there were no expectations, no responsibilities. Just the pleasure of each other’s company, and a sense of kindred comraderie.

She was also aware, but ignoring the fact, that the less she knew, the better. There was less chance that he was lying to her or holding something back; less chance for him to get disappointed in who she was. (Less chance to be hurt.)

“He does, right?” Mary Margaret’s question dragged her back to the present.

Which brought Emma to the downside of being attracted to someone whose walls abutted hers: it was hard to get a read on what was going on in his head, especially when he wasn’t outwardly expressive (more than when they first met, but it was still rare). All she could do was shrug at her roommate and take another pull of wine.

“Yeah, he’s always come off as kind of aloof,” Mary Margaret agreed. “Not altogether unfeeling—more like, not a lot?”

Emma was the last person to make any comments there. What was it she’d said to Graham? “Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you're feeling sucks.” They both had reason enough for that.

“But it looks like you’ve gotten closer to him than anyone in a while,” her roommate went on, “and vice versa?”

“More or less,” Emma conceded. “Present company notwithstanding.”

“I’m honored. And you know what I say about hope,” she answered.

Emma did, but wasn’t sure she was ready to say she was that far in. She extended the end of her bottle to Mary Margaret, who clinked her own against it in solidarity.

By the end of the night, she had no further clarity on the situation and the beginnings of a hangover. Maybe she was overthinking it—or maybe it wasn’t even worth overthinking; it’s not like these things ever worked out in her favor anyway.

But…she did keep thinking about hope.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Her friends eventually dragged her out to the Rabbit Hole for a girls’ night. They’d cited the fact that she missed all the excitement on Valentine’s Day, with Ashley’s engagement, so she needed to make up for it.

Despite still being new to the whole having-female-friends thing (having any friends, really), she had fun. Ian poured the drinks strong and sent more than a few small, sideways grins her way as he watched her dance with the others. She was hoping her subsequent blush could be blamed on exertion or alcohol, except—

“Oh my god,” Ruby yelled at her as they returned to their booth for a refreshment. “Just go screw him already.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been eye-fucking the bartender all night! Go do something about it!”

Well, now her cheeks surely matched her bright red dress—and, to make it worse (or better, Ruby would probably say), when she glanced over at Ian a moment later to see if he’d heard, he was smirking and raised an eyebrow as soon as she caught his eye.

(They hadn’t crossed that line yet but—it had been close. She’d been all too aware of the proximity of their lips when she was helping him shut down last week and they’d collided in the back hall—her hands on his firm chest, his coming to her waist, the dart of her eyes to his mouth—she’d basically sprinted out of there.)

There was definitely an itch to scratch, but she wasn’t about to go there with him. Because she knew, with him, it would be so much more than that. (And if he didn’t reciprocate…that would be even worse.)

“So I hear you’ve been hanging out with the bartender,” Regina asked her one day after she dropped Henry off at the mayor’s house.

Emma shrugged. “I guess,” she answered, downplaying whatever it was they had—if only because she had a feeling Regina would find a way to weaponize it.

(Also, he was good with Henry—like, really good, maybe even better than she was. For someone who didn’t appear to care much about…anything, he always seemed to brighten and engage so much more around her kid whenever they ran into him at Granny’s. He even indulged Henry’s theories about the “curse”, but her son hadn’t decided who Ian was in this supposed other life. Emma didn’t have any ideas, either, if only because that meant Ian was the one person safe from Henry’s childlike scrutiny.)

“Even with everything he’s done?”

That got her attention. “What has he done?”

“More like what hasn’t he done; you’re the sheriff—you could look up his rap sheet. He’s got some blood on those hands—well, hand. Has he even mentioned how that happened?”

“No,” Emma said stiffly. “He hasn’t.”

“I don’t suppose he’s mentioned anything about his ex either, then. Who was married.”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, maybe you should look into it—so you can be aware of just who you’re allowing around my son.”

The mayor pointedly closed the door at that, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts—never a good combination. She was mulling it over on the drive to the station—how much did she actually believe what Regina was saying?

But her curiosity was too piqued to let it rest. She felt like the biggest asshole, but after she got settled for the start of her shift, she ended up in the records room, particularly in front of the drawer labeled H–J.

As much as she didn’t want to—she had to know. She slid the drawer open and dug through the folders, until she found the one near the back labeled Johnson, Ian Brennan.

It was thick. His ‘jailbird’ comment from a while back returned to her; she thought he’d been joking at the time.

She didn’t look inside until she was in her office, with the door shut—not that she expected any visitors, least of all him (he was working anyways), but she still felt like she was doing something wrong, even if she had perfectly legal access to these files.

She took a deep breath and flipped it open.

Ian was glaring at her from the photo paper-clipped to the stack of forms—a bit younger, a bit angrier than the man she knew, with a fire in those blue eyes she’d never seen, even from behind a layer of guyliner and shaggy bangs.

Beneath it, typed out, it listed his name, birthdate (although the year was smudged beyond recognition), that he was born in England, and a charge for drunk driving.

The next sheet: illegal possession of a firearm.

The next several that followed included a handful of drug-related charges, mostly involving the transporting of them.

The last page said manslaughter.

She slammed the folder shut and threw it in the empty bottom drawer of her desk.

In vain, she tried to pretend she hadn’t seen it. Maybe someone planted it there? She wouldn’t put it past Regina, though as to why, she couldn’t guess. The comments about an affair, though—she’d done the whole dating-a-married-guy thing; it hadn’t ended well, but it still wasn’t something she was keen on.

For the next week or so, she managed to avoid him—took all her Granny’s orders to go; sent Ruby to deal with anything at the bar; and one time, ran down an alley when she saw him coming the opposite way down the sidewalk. (She didn’t say she was mature about it…or subtle.)

When she got home later that week, there were two bottles of rosé on the counter again. “My turn,” Mary Margaret said, handing one over.

Was infidelity just a thing here? Because now her roommate was dealing with it, too. Emma’s opinion of David wasn’t the highest at the moment—he couldn’t string her best friend along and stay with his wife—but the longer Mary Margaret pursued this, the more heartache it was gonna cause.

“Thanks for talking to me about it,” she said, halfway through the bottle. “What about you? How are things with Ian?”

Emma took a long, long drink.

“Gotcha,” Mary Margaret said knowingly.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

It came to a head when she was in the station one morning, having arrived to her shift early in order to avoid seeing him at the diner. She was dealing with some paperwork when she heard the front door open. “In here,” she called out, assuming it was Regina telling her off for something she hadn’t done right. Footsteps approached. “What would you like to yell at me about today, Madam Mayor?” she asked sarcastically.

“I hadn’t planned on yelling, but I did want to ask why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Oh shit. Ian was there in the doorway, a coffee cup and bag from Granny’s in his hand, and a serious set in his stare.

“I haven’t,” she lied, then turned back to the computer screen (not that it was doing anything—it still ran Windows 98, after all). “I’ve just been busy.”

“See, I’m actually quite perceptive,” he replied, then stepped forward to set the foodstuffs on the corner of her desk. “And this? This is avoiding.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah,” she had to admit. They’d always been honest with each other, even if they’d clearly withheld some things. And given how poorly her attempted lie a moment ago went, it would be dumb to try to again.

“What is it, love? Did I do something wrong?”

She opened her eyes to look up at him, and regretted it—he looked genuinely hurt. What she was about to do probably wouldn’t help.

Staying seated, she bent down to open the bottom drawer on her desk, and then pulled out his file. Then she carefully set it in front of her.

He immediately recognized it, she could tell. “Ah.”

“I’m sorry; I was talking to Regina and she said some things and—curiosity got the best of me.”

“I see.”

She couldn’t tell if he was angry or hurt—or both—but either way, she felt like an ass. May as well throw fuel on the fire. “She mentioned something about your ex, too—specifically, her marital status.”

“She did, did she?” His words were suddenly emotionless.

“Is…is that all you’re gonna say?” she eventually asked quietly.

He blinked slowly, as when he opened his eyes, they were just a bit duller—a bit more reserved. (That was worse than anything else she’d seen recently.)

“What else needs to be said, Swan?” he shrugged. “You apparently have all you need to know right there, between that and whatever the mayor has told you.”

His gaze settled somewhere near the floor and silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Even louder to her, though, was the fact he was just…accepting it.

“Seriously?” she snapped. “You’re not gonna defend yourself, or fight back at whatever is incorrect in my assumptions?”

He furrowed his brow. “What good would it do?”

“Show me you give a crap!” she shouted, standing so fast it sent her rolling chair sliding into the wall. “Because I’m trying to figure out whatever the hell this is,” she went on, gesturing between them, “but I can’t tell if you actually care or not.”

Finally, something steely settled in his gaze.

“Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you’re feeling sucks,” he stated, plainly but pointedly.

She swallowed at the recitation of what she once had said to Graham. She already knew she wasn’t the first sheriff to strike up a friendship with him, but she was probably the only one Ian had thrown their own words back at.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it go away,” she countered.

“If you do it long enough, it does.”

“And then what? You just never feel anything for the rest of your life?” God, Mary Margaret was really rubbing off on her—though that didn’t mean her calling him out wasn’t a little hypocritical.

“It had been working well for me.”

“Fine then,” she spat. “You can go back to your lonely existence and I’ll fuck off to mine and we’ll just leave it at that.” She crossed her arms and curled in on herself; she was definitely pouting, but the alternative was flopping back in her seat and crying.

His face relaxed, almost going the other way into a frown. “Bloody hell, that’s not what—no, love, I—I just thought you knew me better than that,” he admitted, almost apologetically.

“Well, apparently I don’t,” she parroted back. “I’m wondering if I know anything about you. This is some serious shit, Ian.”

“And I thought you of all people might understand that,” he said matter-of-factly. “I remember the headlines after you arrived in town; just because you have a badge now doesn’t mean you’ve always been on the right side of the law, either.”

“I’m not pretending I didn’t!”

“Neither am I. I just don’t go broadcasting it, given that I still have the option not to.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d be telling people I killed someone either.”

“I—” He started to talk, but then closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. After taking a deep breath, he said, “Not that I really need to, but can I tell you the full story? Before you completely write me off?”

She nodded, but held back what she was really thinking: that she didn’t want him to write himself off.

“I did get into some bad shit,” he started. “My brother was gone, my ex had just died, and I was suddenly an amputee, so I was alone and spiraling. Fell in with the wrong crowd—classic story. Got in deep with a drug ring, and then I got caught. Killed a member of a warring cartel in the process. But, by some miracle, I had a great lawyer. They got a few of the charges thrown out for lack of evidence and I reached a plea deal on the others, along with a heavily reduced sentence for my cooperation in taking down much of the rest of the ring. Did my time, now I’m here. And I regret it every day.”

“Damn.” That was heavier than expected.

“Aye.” He scratched nervously behind his ear. “Anything else?”

She chewed her bottom lip; she was nervous to ask, but she had to. “So, your ex…”

“My ex was married when we met. But it wasn’t a happy marriage. And I didn’t lure her away, or whatever may have been said—she ran off with me. But I loved her, so I went with it. Until her husband found us and went mad. Tried to cut off my hand; stabbed her. Doctors had to take it the rest of the way off,” he explained, raising his prosthesis. “Add that to the list of reasons why I fell in with the wrong people.”

Fuck. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“Indeed.” He toyed with the fingers on his false hand for a moment, and then looked back up at her. “But Swan, why couldn’t you just ask me that? Rather than take the word of a woman who we’ve all seen lie to you—to everyone—before.”

She swallowed. “Because I couldn’t take the chance I was wrong about you.”

“Were you?”

It took her by surprise. “Was I what?”

“Were you wrong about me?” He was staring back at her intently, like he hadn’t just asked a simple but potentially earth-shattering question—but also looked like he was bracing for impact.

She nearly stopped breathing. Not that she had planned any part of this conversation, but when she imagined talking to him again, she thought it’d be more about her figuring out whether he’d let her inside his walls. Logically, it was only fair that he did the same; it was just the first time anyone had followed her in—not to mention challenged her once they were there. (Especially not someone with intense blue eyes, bolder than she’d yet seen them.) And she didn’t know how to respond.

“Because I know I’m not the biggest catch or anything—I’m certainly not Graham—” he went on (and apparently knew where to sting her), “and yeah, I probably still drink a bit more rum than is advised, but other than this—” he nodded at the folder, “—I’ve been nothing but honest with you. So now it’s up to you to decide: whatever it is you’re worried about—were you wrong?”

It had been a long-ass time since anyone had been that bluntly honest with her. (And never someone she was interested in.)

He was right—her lie detector had never gone off with him, either. (It also hadn’t when Regina was gossiping, but it was a little less accurate with noticing exaggerations or omissions.)

He’d never really answered her earlier question, though. “I just need to know one thing,” she said as she stepped around the desk. “I’m not alone in feeling…this, right?” she asked, blatantly stepping into his space.

“No,” he confirmed on a breath.

“Then no, I wasn’t wrong. I think what I was actually scared of…was that I was right.”

“Right?”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and quickly found his lips, kissing away any further confusion. (As she was finding out, they were both a bit better at nonverbal communication.)

(And he did taste a bit like rum, but—she liked it.)

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

She wanted to say things changed from there—they took it fast, or slow, or whatever—but in reality, their relationship really didn’t change. There were still the meals at Granny’s, the nights at the bar. She’d never really been a date-night kind of girl. But emotionally—woah.

It was like she was seeing a whole other side of Ian—but at the same time, it felt like it had always been there, just hiding below the surface. It wasn’t a universal thing—he was still a bit reserved while at work, or around just about anyone other than her and Henry—which made what they had feel all the more special.

There were also more than a few makeout sessions sprinkled in there, too. (Being chased out of the back hall of Granny’s by said proprietress, giggling like teenagers, was one of her more cherished memories since arriving here.)

For a short while, it was simple and sweet and it made her happy. For a little bit, she maybe had the kind of life she’d always hoped—with her son, friends, and a guy she really liked.

But it was like the universe noticed or something—no, Emma Swan couldn’t simply have nice things. Shit always, inevitably hit the fan.

Starting with having to arrest and book her roommate for murder.

She texted ahead and he had a shot waiting for her when she got to the bar after, then a couple more after that. She was definitely loitering—and he could tell. “What is it, love? Aside from the obvious.”

One thing she’d realized: he was exceedingly good at reading her, like a book he couldn’t put down.

“I don’t want to go back to the apartment,” she admitted. “It’s not that I’m afraid to be alone, but knowing that she’s in a cell and I’m there—and that someone may have been in the loft—I just…it freaks me out a bit.”

He swallowed. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but…I could go with you,” he offered. “At least to make sure everything is safe.”

“I’d like that.”

The walk to the loft from the Rabbit Hole was short but filled with energy; there was literally no reason for her to be any sort of excited, but she never invited guys back to her place. Even if she had no plans of anything intimate happening, this was something of a big step for her.

Of course, it ended up being anticlimactic—there was nothing amiss in the flat—but she was still hesitant to want to leave his presence, while at the same time not wanting to seem needy or like she was coming onto him in a subversive way.

“I, uh, could sleep on the couch, if you’d feel better,” he offered, doing that adorable nervous scratch behind the ear. Right—it had been a while for him with this kind of stuff, too.

“Um, yeah, I would. Thanks.”

That was the night she learned he snored—but the sound eventually lulled her to sleep, too.

As it did for the next few nights.

Then came the one after she narrowly escaped that crazy Jefferson’s house with Mary Margaret. She was still shaking as she took the stairs to the apartment and almost didn’t notice Ian sitting on the landing, nearly tripping over his feet.

“Swan, what’s wrong? You never answered my texts so I got worried and came here and, well—I wasn’t sure who to call when the sheriff is the one missing.”

She invited him in—or tried to, but she was trembling so much, she could barely get the key in the lock. Not until his steady hand wrapped around hers and helped.

Once inside, she nearly collapsed just closing the door—both out of relief, and because her adrenaline was finally wearing off. But Ian caught her. And for the first time in years, she let herself be comforted by someone else. (She didn’t cry—she wasn’t ready for that kind of vulnerability yet—but this was kind of a big deal.)

“Do you want me to stay on the couch again tonight?” he murmured when she began to sway, fatigue winning over. She shook her head into his shoulder. (Also: he smelled good. Like, real good.) “Should…should I go?” She shook her head again.

Emma wasn’t a spooner. She took what she needed and then she left. But that was the night she understood why people enjoyed it so much. And waking up still wrapped in his strong arms was a kind of comfort she hadn’t known existed.

There was a brief—but weird—reprieve from the emotional heaviness when it turned out Kathryn Nolan was miraculously alive (despite her heart supposedly being outside her body), and then they held a party to welcome Mary Margaret back home. She shared (more than) a few drinks with Ian after the former; their first official outing as a couple, if it could be called that, was the latter. Mary Margaret arched an eyebrow and smirked at her as she and Ian moved around the kitchen getting ready. Emma just blushed—and then blushed harder when Ian pressed a quick kiss on her cheek as he stepped past her.

Then August kind of went crazy—his offer of help in dealing with the Regina-Sidney-whatever turned into another journey of emotional whiplash. She slumped onto what had become her usual stool at the bar, just a few minutes before close. Ian put some tea in front of her rather than anything stronger and took her upstairs after he’d locked up. He lived there, apparently, in a pretty spartan studio apartment.

“Tell me,” he said gently. Not long ago, she would have brushed something like that off—but not anymore; not with him.

“I’m just tired of all this crap. Not just Regina—the whole curse thing, too. It was fine when it was Henry and I could play along, but now August? And he just—expected me to solve his problem? Just like that? No—no way.” She sighed. “It’s like everyone wants something from me or to fit some role; no one wants just Emma.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” he teased lightly. “Because I do.”

Well. She couldn’t argue with that.

And it became all the more obvious when she attacked his lips—and realized the rest of him was in agreement. She’d hesitated to take their relationship to that level; physical relationships were what she was used to, but adding in the emotional layer was something else—something more.

But, as she learned, that was in a good way.

And while drifting off into a post-coital slumber while wrapped in Ian’s steady arms, she didn’t really care what went on in the outside world—as long as she had this.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Should have known that’s when it would all really, truly crash down on her. Henry—god—seeing him in that hospital bed…and not being able to do anything…but it worked: she believed. In magic, the curse—everything. (Especially once Regina confirmed it.)

So now she was on a mission, practically storming from the hospital—when she ran into a pair of arms she’d give anything to just be able to take shelter in right now. “Love—is Henry okay? What’s going on?”

For a minute, she just looked in Ian’s eyes: that now-familiar blue that carried a wisdom beyond his years and echoed his every emotion, so different now from when she’d first met him—but in a good way. The way his worry creased his brow, the weight of his hand on her waist. If the world was about to change, she wanted to memorize him—them—in this moment. “Is everything alright?” he asked again.

She rose up on her toes to give him a firm, but all-too-brief kiss. “It fucking will be,” she told him, then ran off to save the world—or something.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

An eternity later (really only a couple hours, but holy shit did it feel longer), she had fought a dragon and then apparently broken a goddamn curse with True Love’s Kiss. All that really mattered was that Henry was okay, but all around her, everyone was coming to terms with what had been done to all of them.

She’d never expected to find out the waitress was a werewolf, or the therapist was a freaking cricket—and really never thought she’d be reunited with her parents. It was amazing, but it was also a lot.

She left Henry with his grandparents—god, grandparents—so she could take a minute and just—breathe.

The salty sea air hit her nose and she realized her feet had taken her to the docks. The view of the sea was soothing, but then she saw someone else there taking in the horizon—someone familiar. He wore the same clothes—the same motorcycle jacket, the black sweater that fit him extremely well, atop his usual dark jeans. But rather than the hand-like prosthesis she’d come to recognize, there was a hook—a freaking stereotypical pirate hook—at the end of his left arm.

(Henry had told her the fairytale counterpart of just about everyone in town—except for Ian. The illustrations in his book were good but maybe not distinct and there were a few options. She had a pretty good idea who it was narrowed down to now, though.)

“Ian?” she asked as she approached, partly to get his attention—and partly because she wasn’t sure who she was talking to.

He turned at the sound of her voice, but looked confused. Until he blinked and shook his head. “Aye, it’s me,” he answered, moving toward her. “My real name, though—it’s Killian, Killian Jones; it…took me a minute there.”

Killian. Similar, but different. It suited him.

But also: Kill-Ian—was the man she held so important now gone, effectively killed by his new—true—self?

“So…how much was real? About you?” she had to ask.

“Some of it.” Apparently that nervous ear scratch carried over. “I am—was—am? A pirate, for decades, until I was caught.”

“Captain Hook?” she wondered, nodding at his prosthesis.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he smirked. It was similar to the one she knew—the same dimple—but it had a darker edge to it.

“Who hasn’t?” she replied, ignoring the bit of discomfort that was…well, adding to her overall sense of unease.

“The truth—my actual life—is a bit more gruesome than what I once told you. I wanted revenge for the murder of my love. That part was true—she had been the Dark One’s wife, and he killed her, then took my hand.” He emphasized it by toying with the (rather sharp) end of his hook.

Right; Mr. Gold was apparently—actually—a centuries-old sorcerer. “I’m not gonna have to lock you up for going after him, am I?”

“No. See, I got sloppy; I lost sight of things, and that’s how I was caught—by your parents’ kingdom, actually. Was about to be hanged when the Evil Queen’s knight rescued me. Graham.” Her heart skipped a beat. “In return, I offered them my services should they ever need them. Never heard from them again, and then got swept up in the curse.”

She swallowed. “Did she ever take you up on it? During the curse?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“So, us…” God, she couldn’t even put it into words. If what they’d shared wasn’t…hadn’t meant…she couldn’t fathom.

He very quickly moved into her space and took her hand. “That was very real, Swan.” His gaze had never felt more intense as he went on. “It was my understanding that the curse twisted things—changed us. I had always been someone who felt things very strongly and deeply; it’s why I was so single-mindedly focused on revenge for decades. But then under the curse…I felt nothing—not a bloody thing, for years on end—until I met you, and it all came back. It was like my heart was turned back on—like you brought me back to life.” He rubbed his coarse thumb over the back of her hand. “I know you’re probably questioning things again—especially given that you don’t fully know me, the real version, now—but Emma, I still know you, and I still desperately want you.”

She sighed in relief and nearly sagged into his arms. “Good. Because I think I love you.”

He smiled; it started as a small thing, but he couldn’t hold back from turning into a grin. “That’s appropriate, because I’m fairly certain I love you, too.”

There was a lot she needed to figure out—her life was all kinds of a mess right now—but him—this—whoever he was, he was hers. Even if she didn’t fully know him, it still felt like her heart fit right in the palm of his hand (and vice versa).

She wasted no further time in wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his; he was equally quick to reciprocate.

And, actually? Killian kissed even better than Ian did.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

thanks for reading! Tagging some friends (including the fabulous and supportive Word Forge): @ohmightydevviepuu @shireness-says @iverna @thejollyroger-writer @wistfulcynic @phiralovesloki @initiala @idoltina @xpumpkindumplingx @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @colinoeyebrows @pirateherokillian @annytecture @stubblesandwich @wingedlioness @scientificapricot @snowbellewells @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 and I know there's more I tend to include but tumblr is being weird about it rn.

#cs ff #captain swan #cursed killian au #spartanguard: from the vault #my ff

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faerykingdom · 2 years

Text

DAY THREE - L. EVANS & J. POTTER

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟐𝟒𝟔 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

It’s been almost three weeks since you went into the clinic. Ever since you went to go see Dr. Evans, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Her and her bright red hair, her beautiful green eyes that gazed down at you when you were coming, and her lips that had crashed down on you with such ferocity that you felt like you couldn’t breath.

It’s been three weeks since the sensations she caused plagued your body. It’s been three weeks since you felt so much pleasure, you’ve tried to recreate it, (no matter how dirty you felt afterwards) but you haven’t been able to feel like that again.

Frankly, you’re terrified. You don’t think what happened that day was okay, but it never felt so good.. nothing had ever felt that good.

You’ve been in a slump, to say the least. And that’s how you found yourself here, in a club of all places.

You’re friend felt it necessary that you branch out of your comfort zone. Ever since you went to the gynecologist they had been pushing you to do different things, in their own words, “You’ve already had a doctor see your hoo-ha, might as well finally pop the cherry!”

The entire conversation was downright filthy. Your friend do not have a filter, and they used really weird vocabulary which made the entire conversation worse.

B/F/N had dressed you up in clothes that would make your mother faint, and your father to lock you in a tower. You were wearing a tight-skinned black dress that showed off your body, and your hair was made you into a beautiful hair-do that you only do on rare or special occasions.

The music was so loud that you felt your eardrums were going to pop. People kept bumping into you, and one woman even practically shoved you out of her way. The lights are off, and certain light bulbs throughout the club flash on and off to go with the beat of the music.

Everyone is either high, drunk, or both. You’re head feels like it’s going to explode and all you want to do is go home, and watching some crappy movies. But B/F/N had declared that you weren’t going home until you at least got drunk off your ass, or get laid, whichever came first.

Neither of which seem to be happening any time soon.

“Alright babe,” B/F/N says, tossing their arm over your shoulder, they already halfway to drunk as all hell, and gestures over towards a woman sitting at the bar, staring at B/F/N, “I’m gonna go and talk to the pretty lady over there.” They spin to you, putting their hands on your shoulders and staring down at you seriously, “Now remember,” they wave a finger at you, “no leaving until you’re either drunk as fuck or losing your virginity, got it?” You nod hesitantly, knowing as soon as they turn away, you’re leaving. “Good,” they nod firmly, “go have fun and live a little.” With that, they’re turning away from you and going to the woman.

You sigh. Might as well finish the drink they paid for, even though it tastes like pee. You grimace as the whisky (or was it vodka?) hits the back of your throat.

“That’s not exactly how you’re supposed to drink that, love.”

You jump, a squeak escaping you as turn to look at the person who spoke. Your eyes were wide as you took in the man leaning against the bar. His hazel eyes stare down at you with amusement and something else, something like what Dr. Evans looked at you with. His lips were pulled up in a smirk, and his tongue flicked out to touch his bottom lip. His beautiful black hair was in a curly mess atop his head.

He was gorgeous.

“Like what you see, love?”

You jump again, immediately looking away from him as heat rushed to your cheeks. You fiddled with with the glass cup, needing something to do to combat your embarrassment. You take a drink of your drink (seriously, is it vodka or whiskey?) to try and keep from looking at him. You could feel his stare, his gaze burning through you.

You felt …. excited? There were butterflies in your stomach, and you couldn’t help but look at him out of the corner of your eye. He held a glass of something, and would occasionally sip at it while looking at you.

You clear your throat, trying to gain confidence before you talked to him. After a couple seconds, and another sip of your drink, you look over at him, “Can I help you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow slightly in order to appear intimidating.

He chuckles, “No, just enjoying the view.”

“Oh, god.”

You moan as your back collides with his bedroom door. His lips were pressed against yours, acting as a force to keep you against his wall. James, you had learned his name while talking to him for over an hour at the bar, held your hands up beside your head, his interlocked with yours. His hips were pressed up against your, his knee in between your thighs.

It was so much.

Everything felt like it was magnified by ten. It felt like what it did with Dr. Evans.

James pulls his lips from yours, and trails heated kisses down your neck. You felt so hot, your dress felt like it was suffocating you. You wanted it off.

“Please,” you whisper, moving your hips against his knee. It sent a shock down your spine, pleasure coursing through every inch of your body. You feel like you’ve been lit on fire.

James chuckles, “I don’t know. What do you think, Lils?” He moves away from your neck glancing back at someone over his shoulder, “Should I indulge her?”

Startled, you look over James’ shoulder, eyes wide as you look for ‘Lils.’ Your eyes connect with a woman sitting on a chair, her legs crossed, bright hair trailing down her naked chest. A gasp lodges in your throat, shock racing through you. You try to pull away from James, but he keeps his hold on you, keeping you pressed against the wall.

Dr. Evans is sitting across from you, naked, and a smirk spread across her lips.

“Oh darling,” Dr. Evans purrs as she trails her finger down your naked chest, her fingernail scratching your exposed nipple. You jump, a whine echoing through the bedroom. “You look utterly delicious like this.”

Your sprawled across their bed, your arms and legs tied to the head and footboard. You’re completely exposed to their eyes, as James and Dr. Evans sit on either side of you, each playing a different part of your body. James was rubbing your clit gently, his finger tips barely pressing into your exposed hole. Dr. Evans played with each of your nipples, twisting and pulling at them as you jolted with the sensations.

You look up at Dr. Evans with wide eyes, your lips stretched around the gag in your mouth. It was all too much. To many sensations at once. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as your hips jumped with each touch against your clit.

“You were right, Lils,” James says, a playful smile stretched across his lips. He leans down and pulls your clit between his teeth, a screech is pulled from your lips as you try to squirm away from him, it’s too much! “She’s perfect.”

#lily evans x reader #dark lily evans #dark james potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #lily evans smut #day 2 kinktober

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imbadatwrighting · 1 year

Note

I'm back with another request if they are still open, may you do headcanons for the Yu-Gi-Oh boys with an s/o who has major trust issues?

Will do 🫡 warning it’s kinda crappy and rushed because I didn’t start it until Wednesday this week. Also to the other person who requested smth a week ago give me a couple more days, I was being lazy af but I will post it eventually. Also I don’t really have trust issues so I apologize if this doesn’t seem accurate

Yu-gi-oh boys with a S/o that has trust issues

Yugi Muto

Literally the most understanding person alive

I mean he had to get Yami to trust him and Yami is top tier trust issues

When you two met it was short and prompt

You guys were partners for a project and when he tried to talk to you were very quiet and never voiced your opinions about the project

It annoyed him a little but knew that you just needed time

Which he of course does

But even since that project he would also come up to you and talk to you even if you try to shoo him off

Eventually he somehow got you to start dating him but it still isn’t easy

He tries his hardest to help you but sometimes you just shut him out

Eventually he sat down with you and made you talk about everything

And I mean everything

He got you to spill eventually which was hard to say the least

After that you were still in the fence about telling him things but you usually would tell him everything

He loves you even if you don’t tell him anything though

Whenever you do he’s so proud of you

Even if it’s the littlest thing about your life

“What happened today?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Well… Tea told me that I looked pretty today. I don’t think she meant it though.”

“I’m sure she did. After all you always look amazing.”

“Yugi cut it out.”

“Sorry.”

Yami Yugi

Two peas in a pot over here

You can only imagine how hard it was for you two to start dating

Honestly I’m not even going to get into it-

When you two started dating it was really hard

You both wouldn’t tell each other anything

It ruined your relationship a little bit

Eventually one of you had to break

It was a very slow break though

It started with just one of you starting to talk more and more about you like even if it’s small things

Soon the other one started to catch on subconsciously and do the same thing without them actually knowing it

Eventually one of you hinted to each other that it might be a good idea to afford therapy

You both hopped on the idea thinking you were only doing it for the other one

Couples therapy was hard

Especially when neither one of you were speaking you mind

It worked though

I mean only a little bit but still

You two try to have a little talking session which works surprisingly

Yami did get into a couples fights with you now and then about not being truthful and never telling him anything but it usually ends after an hour or so

Even through all of this you still love each other immensely

You both know that this won’t work for ever but for now you’re happy how you are

“Where were you last night?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“You weren’t anywhere dangerous were you?”

“No Yami.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you too…”

Joey Wheeler

He got you out of your shell

I honestly don’t know how and I don’t think he does either

When he met you at first you were very short a blunt but he just kept annoying you and eventually you guys got closer

By a landslide

Anywhere you were at he was at

He followed you like a kicked little puppy

But somehow by doing this it worked

Even if it was really small you were slowly starting to trust him more and more because you knew he wasn’t going anywhere

Honestly it got to the point where you called the cops on him because he was outside of your window with a black hoodie on

And you had no idea it was him

You thought it was some drug dealer or kidnapper

Safe to say you felt really bad about the whole cop situation

That was his chance to break your walls

He went inside with you and honestly kind of guilt tripped you until you broke and spilled all your feelings

But just because you broke didn’t mean you lost all of your walls

When you realized what he did you kicked him out and would ignore him whenever he came up to you

It went on like that until he apologized to you and you forgave him barely

You were still a little mad at him but we’re starting to let it go

Soon after it went back to how it was with him following you like a little puppy

When you guys started dating your relationship was already changed

You guys have been friends for way over a year and you weren’t as closed off about stuff

Not to say exactly that you trusted him fully

Even though you try

But more like some things you just feel like it’s right to keep to yourself

Which Joey understands and is really proud of your change

He also understands if you don’t want to elaborate further than needed in your views

“How was dinner, Sweets?”

“It was ok.”

“Ok?”

“We had fun, Joey.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Ok then, I’m glad.”

Seto Kaiba

Rudest one out of all the boys

He met you and somehow you two just were always with each other

You were probably the babysitter for Mokuba and since where every Seto went Mokuba went so you did too

You two ended up getting together and it was a mess at the beginning

Seto was really busy so you acted like you were really busy as well but in reality you weren’t

Just because he isn’t with you all the time doesn’t mean he doesn’t pick up on things

He always noticed how closed off you were and unwilling to trust him even after dating for more that 4 months

He knows that some of it is his fault because he’s never with you

But instead of being with you more he hired you a therapist

The only thing is you didn’t know they were a therapist

They slowly became your friend and you would share more and more and they would give you feedback

That was until you found out they were your therapist

You lost it on Seto

Yelling at him while he talked back in a stern voice telling you it was for your own good

You two fought for at least a week but you two also got closer during it

He’s starting to understand your boundaries more and is more nicer about things

And your trying to share more and not be closed off to him

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think to tell you, Seto.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please next time tell me this.”

“I will. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

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mafuluzx · 1 month

Text

UNRELEASED WATTPAD STORY LET'S GOOO!!!

Uhmm, so, if you guys don't follow me on Wattpad, you might not know this, but I'm releasing my scrapped male reader book right here. This is basically what was supposed to be the prologue, but it's kinda crappy and stuff now that I think about it...

So this is also a bit more different than the rest of my stories, that's also why I scrapped it. I went out of my comfort zone and whoops. Umm, yeah, the main thing of this story is just Jay's and (y/n)'s relation to each other as siblings and such, so here you go.

I've seen people put lyrics in their prologues, so I thought that it might be cool to try in this one... that's what I thought when I started writing. BUT I DON'T LIKE IT ANYMORE AND I THINK IT'S KINDA CRINGE AND GOOFY AAAAHHHH!!!

Also, this book is an old scrapped idea from the time I was still working on the idea for Over the Clouds (One of my books in Wattpad). It was either this or that, and I ended up liking the idea of Over the Cloud's waaaaaaay more.

But this is it. I'll publish the rest in separate posts, will basically be the actual thing cut in two parts.

Beautiful Liar (Scrapped)

Prologue

𝓛𝓮𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓪

"No, no! NO! Pa! Don't take him away!"

"Don't worry, you'll meet again."

"I can help take care of him! I-I really can!"

"(y/n), calm down, Jay will be alright."

"NO, I DON'T WANT HIM TO GO!"

𝓛𝓮𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓪 𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓪

"The ninja have saved us yet again! The people of Stiix were all saved by the newest addition to the ninja team, the water ninja Nya! People on the scene say..."

"How worthless... Look at how things have turned out. He's got a a big loving family and many things he enjoys doing. He has no need for me anymore. He's part of a ninja team as well, that must be fun. And how he can be so awfully honest on tv makes me smile. I could never."

꧁༒"𝓞𝓻 𝓪 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓻~" ༒꧂

"And, drum roll... YES! WE DID IT AGAIN!" A shout of celebration rang from the phone I was holding.

"Another million views overnight. The music video seems to be to the fans' liking." A second voice spoke.

"Yeah..." (y/n) said as well. The others were celebrating, so he should as well. He put on a small smile as he looked at the letter he had finished writing. He was gonna send it soon.

"Oh, (y/n), You don't sound so excited." A third voice spoke

"How could he? Cliff Gordon just...We're sorry (y/n)." Yet another voice said as (y/n) shook his head.

"No, it's really alright."

"...If you say so. The manager said you should take a break though, the paparazzi are sure to take advantage of this."

"Alright! Tell the manager to keep in touch." (y/n) said as

"Sure, take it easy, (y/n)." "Bye, bye!" The sixth and fifth voices called before (y/n) put his phone down. He let out a sigh as he stopped leaning on the wall, and set his phone down. Taking a sip from his water bottle, he pressed play on one his band's own songs.

"five, six, seven, eight..." He counted quietly as he started moving in the middle of the room. He stared at himself from the mirrors covering the walls, his eyes sometimes skimming past the posters of a ninja dressed in blue. (y/n) scoffed at himself, his form was off. At some point he stopped counting his steps, and instead mouthed the words of the song.

Knock, knock, knock...

(y/n) stopped for a second,thinking he had heard something, but when no other sound came, he continued.

Ding dong...

This time (y/n) paused the music. The room went awfully quiet, but still no sound came. (y/n) extended his arms towards the play button again, but before he could touch it:

DING DONG, DING DONG, DING DONG...!

The sound of the doorbell continued as (y/n) rushed out of the room. Only once he stepped onto the carpet set in front of the front doors did the ringing stop. (y/n) twisted the lock before opening the door slightly, as his eyes opened wide.

(y/n) opened the door fully as a boy with fluffy brown hair stood in front of the door with a smile. (y/n) saw a couple of people the same age as the boy far behind him, seeming to have run after him. The boy smiled widely before jumping and hugging (y/n) tightly.

"I'm here, brother. I'm home!" (y/n) felt a sense of déjà vu, but he couldn't quite put a finger on why that was. As Jay hugged (y/n) tighter, (y/n)'s eyes started to water. He felt as if Jay had said those words before, but he couldn't possibly have.

"...Welcome home." The other ninja finally caught up to Jay, and stopped to stare silently at the present situation. The ninja stared with confusion on their faces, except for the water ninja. Finally, (y/n) hugged back, and started sobbing.

#ninjago #ninjago x reader #x male y/n #x male reader #lego ninjago #ninjago jay #fanfiction #wattpad writer

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themuse-if · 2 months

Note

I was pondering classic angst asks that might fit the university setting I think this one lines up okay.

What's ROs’ reaction to the mc being dressed up for a date with someone else and asking them how they look?

And how do they react when MC comes home in tears because their date stood them up or ended poorly?

Anyways that's my ask thanks for taking the time to read it, hope you're doing good!

Hello! I love that I'm getting to this ask after creating the other non RO hallmates I think it'll make it even more fun for you guys to visualize MC's date as one of them! Let's say that they're in the friendship/very early crushing stage for this one.

Roxanne/Robbie

Before the date: *sees MC coming out of their room* Well don't you look like your off somewhere special? *quirks their brow and smirks while waiting for MC's response* Oh, I see. So who's your hot date? August? Shit MC look at you going out with tall, dark and mysterious. Be sure to dish all the dirty details later. *gives MC a quick wink and walks away*

After the date: *is hanging out in the common room, then sees MC come in looking rather upset* Hey MC, you good? Do you want to talk about it somewhere more private? *walks MC to their room* Ok now that we're alone tell me what happened. *MC tells them that it was just a shit date and not at all what they pictured, they just didn't click and MC feels dumb and embarrassed* Is that all? I thought I was gonna have to beat their ass for being rude or standing you up? Well MC I know you must be feeling crappy, but it could have been a lot worse. And trust me when I say there are plenty of people just waiting for you to look their way. And you're bound to feel that spark with one of them. *gives MC a telling and heated look*

Joleen/Johnny

Before the date: *sees MC heading out all dressed up* Hey you, where are you headed? *MC ask them why they want to know* You just look really nice so I was curious. *MC tells them about their date with Kaden* A date? With Kaden? Oh that's...cool. Have a nice date. * leaves MC with and awkward wave and a smile*

After the date: *runs into MC on their way to the dorm practice rooms* Hey MC, how'd it go? *MC continues to rush past them into the music room* Ok... *follows MC into the music room* So I guess it wasn't the best date you've ever had... *awkward laugh* Do you want to talk about it? *MC tells them there isn't much to talk about since Kaden didn't show up* Shit, that really sucks. Did he at least call or text you with an explanation? *MC shakes their head* So he's an asshole. That's not your fault. *MC nods still looking frustrated* Do you want to work through what your feeling? *MC looks at them confused, Jo hands them the drumsticks and sits them behind the drumkit* Just fuck around and let it all out. I know from lots of experience that you'll feel so much more free if you just express how your feeling in a cathartic non harmful way.

Delphine/Desmond

Before the date: *sees MC on their way out of the residence hall* Look at you. *friendly grin* Well don't you clean up nice. Let me guess off to a date? *MC grins and tells them with whom* Kiana, oh that's nice, she seems sweet. I'm sure you two will have a nice time. Don't let me keep you form your date. I'll see you around.

After the date: *finds MC in the common room kitchen eating a tub of ice cream alone* Ah...so...how was the date? *MC holds up the half eaten tub of ice cream and shrugs* Yeah that was a stupid question. Well what happened to get you knee deep in the cookies and cream? *MC tells them their date was ok but just not what they had wanted, it seemed like Kiana's mind was elsewhere* Well it's 100% their loss. If they couldn't realize what a great person they had right in front of them then its not worth wasting your time. Hey pass me a spoon, let me make sure you don't eat that whole thing alone. *they both start cracking up*

Rina/Ren

Before the date: *sees MC walking through the common room* Hey MC, you look nice. *MC tells them about their date with Monica* Oh Monica I have a few classes with her. Her form is fantastic. I think she's as bored in contemporary as me though. Oh sorry for rambling...well have a nice date. I'll see you later.

After the date: *sees MC in the hallway rushing to their room* Uh, are you ok? You look a bit upset... *MC tells them that Monica stood them up* Wow that's really shitty. Have they said anything? *MC tells them that they texted Monica and it turns out she was practicing, she said she just forgot* Damn that's just...wow. Forget about her, she obviously isn't worth your time. I'll...uh...talk to you later MC, don't be too down. *R sees Monica the next day in class and endlessly glares at her before telling her off after class*

Everly/Everett

Before the date: *sees MC rushing out of the hall* Where are you rushing off to? *notices how nice MC looks* Oh shit never mind, you're obviously about to go on a date. And if you aren't you should be. *MC chuckles and tells them they're right and that their date is Kaden* Well I hope you have a good date...but if you don't you could always come have more fun with me. *gives MC an exaggerated wink, they share a laugh before parting ways*

After the date: *hears a knock at their door, opens it to find MC looking visibly upset* Come on in. Looks like you've had an eventful evening. Go on spill the beans. *MC tells them that their night was not eventful at all since Kaden didn't even show and now he isn't responding to MC's texts* Wow I honestly haven't really talked to him that much, but I thought he seemed pretty ok. Turns out he's piece of shit who doesn't have the human decency to treat others with basic respect. *Eyes go wide with mischief* Hey MC, why don't we get a little...revenge? *cheeky grin*

Karla

Before the date: *sees MC heading off campus* Hey MC, how're you? Haven't seen you around lately. *MC catches up with them and tells them about their date with Ishara* I don't think I've met them yet but I'm sure you'll have a good time. If nothing else you look fantastic so they'll be drooling over you in no time. Well I won't hold you up, good luck.

After the date: *MC texts them letting them know that their date was shit, it didn't even happen since Ishara didn't show, Reyes give MC a call* Hey...so have they said anything? *MC says no* Have you said anything? *MC says no* Well you probably should, maybe something happened. They might have a reason for not showing up. *MC shoots Ishara a quick text, and they reply telling them how sorry they are, they had food poisoning and have been in and out of the bathroom all day* If they're telling the truth then that's a pretty good excuse. It's up to you to give whether or not you want to give them a second chance though.

Faye

Before the date: *sees MC heading off campus* Well, well, well aren't you looking spicy MC! Who's the lucky person taking you out tonight? *MC laughs and asks how they knew* I mean look at you! You look like you're ready to stop traffic! You still haven't told me who though... *MC tells them it's Jacob* Hmm I think I've seen him around, he's a studio arts major right? *MC says yes* Well you have to let me know how it goes! Have fun! Don't give your date a heart attack looking so hot. *fans themself, and shares a laugh with MC before parting ways*

After the date: *MC texts Faye letting them know their date didn't go as planned, Faye tells MC she's coming over* So how're you holding up? *MC tells them that it wasn't even that bad there was just no spark it felt like a date with their brother* Oh ok, you can't force yourself to have feelings for someone. When you know, you know, right? Why don't you just take some time to figure out what it is you're looking for. And once you've figured that out then you should put yourself back out there.

Sebastien

Before the date: *sees MC heading off campus, stops dead in his tracks and give MC a long look up and down* You look amazing... Are you meeting someone? *MC tells him about their date with Kaden* Well I hope he knows how lucky he is. I don't want to make you late so... Have a good night MC, let's catch up later.

After the date: *MC calls Seb sounding really upset, he's over to their dorm in no time* How the fuck does he have the audacity to stand you up!?! He obviously isn't worth one second of your time. Did he at least try to make up some sort of excuse? *MC says no, and that he hasn't been responding to their texts* Listen MC *Seb grabs MC by the shoulders at meets them at eye level* you deserve so much better. You deserve someone who will cherish you and value every opportunity to be in your presence. *pulls MC into his arms* Just know that you shouldn't close yourself off because of this.

Maxine

Before the date: *Max is sitting on MC's bed watching them get ready for their date* What about that top, you know the one that really compliments your eyes. Yes, that one! You look great! When are you meeting Kaden? 30 minutes! Well what are you still doing here you should head out or you'll be late. *MC starts to head out* You have to tell me everything later! Good luck! *MC leaves, Max heaves a heavy sigh*

After the date: *is chilling in her dorm room reading when MC storms in* Aren't you back a bit soon... weren't you supposed to do dinner and a movie? *MC tells her he didn't show up* What do you mean he didn't show up? Did he say anything? *MC quietly says they waited for for 2 hours without a single word* YOU WAITED FOR 2 HOURS! AND HE'S GHOSTING YOU! *Max takes a deep breath and gets scary quiet* I'm going to beat that posh little pricks ass. Just wait until I see his stupid face he's gonna regret this. *MC starts to laugh* What the fuck why are you laughing? *MC says that it doesn't matter since they have a friend like her* Whatever I'm still gonna beat his ass. *MC starts to crack up feeling thankful for such a caring friend*

Silas

Before the date: *sees MC in the common room while he's posting the weeks events on the bulletin board* Hey MC, am I gonna see you at game night later? *MC tells him they won't be around since they have a date with Monica* Oh, I should have guessed since your all dressed up. You look nice by the way. *clears his throat* Well have fun on your date.

After the date: *Sees MC trying to sneak through the common room unnoticed with tears running down their face* Hey MC...are you ok. *MC tells them in a hushed tone that Monica never showed up that they were practicing, forgot about the date and didn't even apologize* Oh wow...ok. I'm not sure if I should get caught up with my advisee's love life, but just know that this isn't about you. Lots of people are into you trust me a few have come to me looking for advice. Monica skipping out on you is their loss. Keep your chin up ok. Come find me if you need to talk...about anything. That's what I'm here for right. *give MC a goofy grin and a friendly pat on the shoulder*

#interactive fiction #interactive if #twine if #twine interactive fiction #themuse if #if: themuse #extras

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 1 year

Text

Burnin’ Up - Firefighter!Chris AU (Part 15: Calm Waters)

Summary: You and Chris head down to Cape Cod for Jamie and Emma’s wedding, giving you the best chance to fully unwind

Word Count: 11.4k (holy shit....)

Warnings: Fluff! SO MUCH FLUFF! Smut! SO MUCH SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Language!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Meet the Characters!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

A/N: I have included a moodboard at the bottom to show off the general vibe of this chapter!

Chapter 15: Calm Waters

Standing in your bedroom you were staring at your open suitcase going over the list in your head trying to make sure you had everything you needed. It had been so long since you’d gone away on any form of break that you were struggling to remember what kind of stuff you needed to bring. Especially since you and Chris were staying in a rented beach house instead of a hotel, what if they didn’t have a hairdryer? Should you bring food or would you sort that once you were there?

You were so lost in your mental checklist that you completely lost track of time, only snapping back into reality when you heard your buzzer buzz. Glancing at your watch you curse to yourself knowing it was Chris arriving to pick you up and you weren’t ready yet.

Rushing over you pick up the receiver to let him in “Hey c’mon up” you tell him before moving to open the door ready for him.

Despite how frazzled you felt you couldn’t stop the smile that naturally formed on your face when Chris walked up the stairs towards you. He greeted you with a soft hey as he kissed you, resting one hand on your hip.

“Hey, sorry I’m not quite ready to go yet, just finishing up packing now,” you tell him as you shut the door and start walking back towards your bedroom “I’m just not sure what I should or need to bring and I don’t wanna forget something important” you sigh shaking your head as you start checking the contents of your suitcase again.

“Hey, it's okay” Chris reassures you as he stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist “We aren’t in any hurry” he reminds you as he presses a kiss to your temple.

You let out a long sigh, relaxing back into his embrace your arms moving to rest atop of his “I know, I just- it’s stupid” you mutter shaking your head.

Chris' arms tighten around you “Hey when it comes to you, nothing is stupid” he tells you softly.

“It's just been so long I’ve kinda forgotten what kinda stuff I’ll need, heck I’ve never even stayed in a rental property before, it just seems like a completely different rule book” you explain shaking your head, fingers tracing shapes on the exposed skin on his arm.

“Okay, let's simplify it,” Chris says pressing a kiss to your shoulder “Have you got your dress for the wedding?” He asks.

“Yeah it’s hanging in a bag on the back of my door,” you say nodding to your bedroom door “And no you can’t look,” you say when you hear him draw in a breath already knowing what he was gonna say.

“You’re no fun” Chris pouts as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I want it to be a surprise,” you tell him.

“Fine” Chris sighs dramatically making you chuckle “What about everything else for the wedding? Makeup and hair stuff and whatever else it is you use to turn yourself into a Greek goddess,” he asks.

You scoff quietly, shaking your head at his compliment “Yeah got that” you nod.

“And what about clothes for Sunday and Monday morning?” Chris asks “Toothbrush and toiletries?”

“Yep got all that sorted” you confirm.

“Got your charger?” Chris asks making you curse when you realise that was what you’d forgotten.

“No I haven’t,” you say as you reluctantly step out of his embrace to grab your charger from your bedside table “Should I bring my hairdryer or will they provide one?” You ask as you pack away your charger.

“They’ll provide one, but it might be cheap and crappy so might be worth bringing your own” Chris explains as he moves to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Good point” you hum as you go grab your hairdryer “What about food? Should we bring something?”

“I’ve got snacks for the road, but we’ll be eating out most of the time so we’ll only need breakfast stuff which we can grab once we’re there” Chris explains.

“Cool, I think that’s everything then,” you say moving to zip your suitcase closed but Chris stops you.

“Have you packed bikinis?” He asks his brow arched in question.

“No, I didn’t think we’d have enough time,” you say with a small shake of the head.

“Pack a couple just in case, you never know,” he says with a small smirk “better to have it and not need it”

You study him for a moment, his smirk saying he knew more than he was letting on. You nearly questioned it before deciding to just let whatever he was planning play out “Okay I’ll grab a couple” you say walking over to your closest and grabbing a couple of bikinis and packing them away before shutting your suitcase “Right I think that’s everything”

“Awesome, you grab your bag and I’ll carry these down to the car,” Chris says standing back up and grabbing your suitcase and dress from the back of your door.

“You better not sneak a peak otherwise you’ll be in serious trouble” you warn as you follow him out of your bedroom, grabbing your handbag and keys.

“What kind of trouble? Because if it’s the fun kind” Chris smirks wiggling his eyebrows looking over his shoulder as he walks out of the front door.

“The kinda that means you won’t get to do what you want to do this weekend,” you say with a pointed look as you follow him out and lock your door behind you.

Chris gasps dramatically “You wouldn’t be so cruel”

“You know better than to test me” you wink as you walk past him and start walking down the stairs.

“You could say that again” Chris mutters under his breath as he follows after you making you laugh loudly, smiling over your shoulder at him.

Once down onto the street, Chris unlocked the car and put your suitcase in the truck, laying the bag holding your dress on too so it wouldn’t get wrinkled. He then moved to open up the passenger door for you, sneaking a kiss to your cheek as you climbed in.

“Do we need to pick up Scott and Steve?” You ask as he climbs in and turns the engine on.

“No, they’re making their way up later on in the day, their hotel has a later check-in and I wanted it to be just us for our inaugural road trip,” Chris says smiling over at you.

“I like it, so what exactly does this road trip entail?” You ask him.

“Well, it's my job to keep us safe,” Chris says putting his hand on his chest “And you are DJ and snack distributor,” he says passing you his phone.

“It’s not just gonna be Disney songs on here is it?” You smirk knowingly.

“No there’s ACDC as well,” he says with a lopsided smile.

You chuckle shaking your head at him before looking down at his phone. A wide warm smile forms on your face when you see his new lock screen photo. It was a picture of you and Dodger at the backdoor, you crouching down beside Dodger and kissing his cheek. You find a good playlist before settling back ready to enjoy your long weekend with Chris.

The drive down to Cape Cod was perfect, so perfect that you were a little disappointed that you had arrived. You had talked, laughed and sang along to the music the entire time. Every opportunity he had, Chris’ hand would find yours and he’d lift it to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles. You even played a couple of games like the name game and word association game.

“This is us,” Chris says as pulls up outside the beach house, putting the car in park.

“Oh wow, it's stunning” you mutter in amazement as you look up at the house.

“It’ll do” Chris jokes as he climbs out of the car “The key should be in the plant pot by the door, why don’t you go explore while I unload the car?” He suggests.

“You don’t want a hand?” You ask him as he walks around the car to you.

“No it's okay” he assures you “And I promise I won’t peek,” he says before you get a chance to say anything, leaning down to kiss you.

“Thank you” You grin up at him before making your way up the path to the door.

You easily find the key in the plant pot and unlocked the door, your breath catching as you lay eyes on the interior. It was absolutely stunning. The living area was all open plan with a colour scheme of white, cream and light blues making it feel light and airy.

Walking into the kitchen you smile when you saw a wicker basket full of goodies, including a bottle of champagne. You continue to explore the kitchen, your fingers running over the marble surface.

You then walk over to the patio doors, unlock them and push them open and breathe in the sea breeze. Walking out onto the back deck you came to a stop at the railing, closing your eyes and just listening to the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach.

You had only been here for a few minutes and you already felt so at peace. If this was how you felt after only a few minutes away, how relaxed would you feel after the weekend.

You were so relaxed that you didn’t even flinch when Chris walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder “What do you think?” He hums.

“It's heaven” you whispered, leaning your head back his chest eyes still closed “Thank you for finding this place Chris”

“I’d give you the world if I could” he murmured he says pressing a kiss to your forehead, you opened your eyes and smiled lazily up at him as he leaned down to kiss you softly.

When he pulled away you looked back out at the view, but not before you spotted the hot tub off to the side “I’m guessing that’s why you suggested I brought bikinis” you say nodding over to the hot tub.

“I plead the fifth” he smirks “but we can take a dip later tonight if you want”

“Sounds amazing” You grin up at him.

“Great” he smiles kissing your temple “so I was thinking that we could head into town, explore a bit, pick up some groceries, then I’ve got a reservation for us at a local seafood restaurant and then when we get back we can relax in the hot tub” he suggests.

“I can’t wait, it all sounds amazing” You smile turning in his arms and wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Your afternoon with Chris couldn’t have been more perfect. You spent hours walking around town exploring, finding places that if you weren’t too tired and hungover come Sunday you would check out. You got ice creams and walked hand in hand on the beaches enjoying the sea view.

Once you were done exploring you found a local grocery store and picked up anything you would need for the weekend and it was perfectly domestic. Chris would push the cart while you wandered and picked out stuff you wanted or needed, him grabbing the things that were out of reach and using it as an opportunity to sneak a kiss on your cheek.

“Should we get something to cook for dinner on Sunday?” you ask turning to face him.

He tilts his head side to side as he thought “I dunno, do you think we’re gonna wanna cook on Sunday? We might be too tired and just wanna order something in”

“True, depends on how much we drink on Saturday” you hum nodding your head.

“which considering we’re all in the emergency services and we don’t get the opportunity very often I think everyone is going to go a bit crazy” Chris points out reaching out to hook his finger in the belt loop of your shorts to pull your closer “and I know I can’t wait to spend the night dancing with you” he whispers as he leans down to kiss you softly.

“true” you murmur, eyes still shut from the kiss “We’ll just see how we feel, we can always door-dash ingredients”

“sounds like a plan, now shall we pick up a bottle of wine or two,” he asks his large hand running up and down your back slowly.

“The owners left us a bottle of champagne for us,” you tell him as you tuck yourself into his side, your arm wrapped around his waist.

“Fancy, one for Sunday would be nice though, they say alcohol is the best hangover cure,” he says making you snort with laughter.

“I wouldn’t say delaying the inevitable could be classed as a cure but sure one bottle wouldn’t hurt” You grin up at him.

Once the groceries had been brought and put away ready for when you needed them the both of you had some time to kill before your dinner reservations so you spent your time relaxing on the back deck together. Chris lounging back on a sun lounger, you laying between his legs with his arms wrapped securely around you. Your fingers would run over his arms and hands exploring every inch like you had done thousands of times before now.

When it was time to get ready you were reluctant to leave Chris’ warm and comforting embrace. So much so that to get up he picked you up and carried you with him making you laugh and giggle especially when he dropped you onto the bed with the simple instruction to get ready.

A short while later you had changed out of your shorts and vest into a white maxi dress that had cherry blossom and flowers over it and a pair of white heeled espadrilles. You were just tying the straps of your shoes when Chris stepped out of the bathroom wearing a blush short-sleeved shirt which fitted him perfectly, with the exception of around his biceps. You swore if he flexed anymore as he put on his watch the sleeves would rip.

“ready to go?” you ask standing up from the bed and grabbing the small handbag you were using.

Chris nodded before looking up and over at you, smiling softly as his eyes roamed up and down your body “Sweetheart you look gorgeous” he says as he walks closer.

You tilt your head slightly as you smirk up at him “This is nothing, just you wait until you see my dress tomorrow” you say knowing exactly what kind of reaction you would get.

Chris lets out a low groan, shaking his head and closing his eyes as if he was trying to picture what could be better “I’m gonna really struggle keeping my hands to myself, might just have to sneak you off somewhere”

“and kill the anticipation?” you point out “Just picture it,” you say resting your hands on his pecks and looking up at him through your lashes “We finally get back here, finally are completely alone after spending hours dancing, teasing, testing to see who would give in first… I’m not sure we’ll even make it into the bedroom”

“fahk” Chris groaned leaning down to press his forehead against yours “I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you” he muttered.

You smile softly reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb running over his beard “I could say the same thing” you say reaching up to capture his lips in yours.

Chris instantly responds his hand cupping your jaw and tilting your head so he could deepen the kiss. His free arm wrapped around your waist pulling you closer so there was no space left between you and even then he gripped you like it wasn’t close enough “We’re gonna be late if we don’t go now” he sighs.

“guess we’ll just have to pick this up later on then” you smirk your hand sliding down into his “C’mon handsome,” you say leading him out of the bedroom.

It was only a short drive to the restaurant meaning you only got there a couple of minutes late. Chris’ choice of restaurant was perfect, it was right on the beach meaning you could hear the sound of the waves crashing on the shore alongside the gentle music. The décor was beautiful and you could only describe it as romantic nautical. Everything looked like it had been made out of reclaimed wood from the ocean and nautical themes items dotted around the place. The overhead lighting was kept low, the main source of light being the fairy lights that were hanging across the ceiling and the candles on the tables.

You couldn’t help but look around in amazement as the hostess lead you through the restaurant to your table which was by a large window that allowed you to look out at the ocean. Chris pulled out your chair for you, his hand running over your shoulder as he moved to sit down.

“Chris this place is so beautiful,” you say shaking your head as you looked around. “it really is,” he says but his eyes never strayed from you, “I asked Jamie for a recommendation since this is our first time actually going out for a dinner date I wanted it to be perfect”

You blink a couple of times in surprise “Oh wow I hadn’t realised we hadn’t gone out on a date like this yet” you admit.

“I know, and as lovely as this is,” he says reaching out to take your hand “I’m glad we can have just as much fun having a cosy night in”

“me too” you smile softly, your thumb rushing over his knuckles.

When the waiter arrived at the table Chris ordered a bottle of wine for the both of you before asking what the waiter suggested. The waiter was very helpful pointing out dishes that were the best at this time of year and a couple that were good all year round and were his personal favourites.

“what are you thinking?” Chris asks as you look over at the menu trying to decide. “I don’t know they all sound incredible it’s impossible to choose” you admit with a small shake of your head.

“happens to everyone, I’ll give you both a few minutes” the waiter smiles before leaving the both of you to decide.

“Which ones are you stuck between?” Chris asks leaning forward so his arms rest across the table.

“well the tuna steak sounds amazing and you know that it going to be so fresh considering the tuna industry around here, but then the seafood paella sounds amazing too and you get a wide variety of different seafood,” you tell him with a small shake of the head “sorry I’ve not been anywhere fancy like this before so the choices are a bit overwhelming”

“Really?” Chris asks tilting his head slightly, his brows pinching together “Not even an ex-boyfriend?”

“no, I mean I do have a vague memory of my grandparents taking me somewhere that was pretty nice but I was only 6 or 7, my father was so busy we didn’t go out much and on the rare occasions we did it was to diners that he would go to while on shift” you explain with a small shrug of your shoulders looking down and fiddling with the edge of the table “and all my ex’s never liked going places like this, it would be chain restaurants on the occasions we managed to get out nothing like this”

Chris lets out a long sigh that has you looking back over at him and seeing the sadness in his eyes “Well none of them deserved you” he told you and you got the idea he wasn’t talking about just your ex’s but you didn’t bother arguing about it with him. He then put on a soft smile “Well food wise have an easy solution because I like the sound of the Tuna steak so if you let me try some of your paella I’ll let you try some of the steak” he suggests with a warm smile.

“sounds great, thank you Chris” You smile gratefully.

It didn’t take long for your meals to come out once you ordered them, and like promised Chris let you have some of his Tuna steak and he tried some of your paella. The both of you agreed that you couldn’t actually decide what meal was better. You both finished up your meal with a light dessert before Chris paid the bill, you had tried to get the waiter to at least split the bill but Chris was having none of it. The waiter chuckling warmly at the two of you as Chris paid.

“I’ll let you get it next time, I promise” Chris smiles as he puts his wallet away.

“I will hold you to that Evans” you warn pointing over at him and making him laugh.

“I don’t doubt that, now c’mon let's head back there a hot tub and bottle of champagne calling our names” He smirks holding out his hand.

Once you got back to the beach house Chris made his way out onto the back deck to make sure the hot tub was all ready while you went to go get changed into your bikini. Grabbing the one you wanted, which was a modest piece, the colour was one that compliment your skin tone perfectly, the fabric was slightly ribbed and the bottoms high-waisted. The bikini was triangle shaped with thick straps that gave you full coverage but showed enough skin and cleavage which you knew Chris would appreciate. You removed any make-up you were wearing since you didn’t want it melting off or into your skin due to the steam, and tied your hair up into a bun to avoid it getting too wet.

You then grabbed a bathrobe and towel and made your way out to find Chris was already changed into his swim trunks and had grabbed the bottle of champagne and set it in a cooler ready to be poured out. He was stood with his back to you as he finished playing with the settings to make it perfect as you stepped out.

“how’s the water?” you ask stripping off the robe and hanging onto a nearby hook. “perfect, they should call me the hot tub connois-“ he smirks his words dying out as he turned and saw you “Oh shit” he muttered his lips parted in shock.

“I hope that’s a good ‘oh shit’” you smirk walking over to him, his eyes following you the entire way especially your swaying hips.

“It’s a very, very good oh shit,” he says once he finally recovered “I’m definitely glad I told you to bring this” he adds with a lopsided smile as he reaches out to run his finger under the strap.

“yeah, if you hadn’t I would have had to of worn my birthday suit” you smirk slipping past him to climb into the hot tub.

The groan Chris let out was anything but quiet and you smirked victoriously as he adjusted his shorts before climbing in after you. He moved to sit beside you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer so he could kiss you. you smile into the kiss, resisting the urge to climb onto his lap, that would have to wait until a bit later. Instead, you rest your hand on his chest, feeling his strong beating heart beneath your fingers tips.

“so what shall we toast to?” you ask once he finally pulled away, nodding over to the champagne.

Chris smiles softly as he moves to grab the champagne, popping the top and beginning to pour it into the two flutes “There are many things I think we could toast to” he says as he passes you your flute “But how about to our first getaway?” he suggests.

“and hopefully not our last” you agree, smiling over at him.

“oh no this definitely isn’t our last, now I’ve had a taste of it I’m going to be finding every opportunity to whisk you away somewhere,” he says with a lazy smile as he leans in and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck “we could go to Italy, Disneyworld, skiing in Vermont, anywhere you want,” he says punctuating each suggestion with a kiss to your neck.

“Is this a bad time to say I don’t know how to ski?” you tell him and you feel him huff out a laugh on your shoulder.

“I’ll teach you” he promises pressing one last kiss to your shoulder before lifting his head “To our first of many getaways” he toasts holding up his champagne flute.

“cheers” you smile softly as you gently tap your glass against his, still smiling as you both took your first sip, you then settled in close to him and looked up at the sky “So what stars and planets are out tonight?” you ask him.

He smiles softly over at you as he takes another sip of his champagne before looking up at the sky and starting to point out all the different constellations and planets he could see. You listen with a smile on your face as he tells you all the different facts he knew about each constellation. Only moving to refill your glasses when they got low, the both of you easily work your way through the bottle.

Once the bottle was empty you took Chris’ empty glass from him and moved to put them on the side out of the way, shifting onto Chris’ lap to do so. Chris smiled appreciatively up at you, his hands moving to rest on your hips as you rested yours on his chest.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but we’ve always gotten distracted,” you tell him as you run your hands over his chest.

“what is it sweetheart,” he asks softly, his hands squeezing your hips.

“what do your tattoos mean? Some of them I can guess like this one” you say running your finger down his Dodger tattoo “But what about the others?” you ask.

“Well, why don’t you tell me which one you want to know about and I’ll tell you the story” Chris offers as he leans forward to press a kiss to your collarbone.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head slightly to clear your mind “What about this one ‘when you lose touch with your inner stillness, you lose touch with yourself, when you lose touch of yourself, you lose yourself in the world’” you say reading out the quote that was across his collar bone even though you already had it memorised.

“it’s a quote by Eckhart Tolle from the book Stillness Speaks” Chris explains his hands running up and down your sides slowly “A few years ago the fire department organised this mental wellness workshop and they talked about different kinds of mental well-being practices and I really connected with the Buddhism and the notion of being present in the moment, I read the book and it resonated enough to permanently ink it on my body, it’s a good reminder when the job gets hard”

“that’s beautiful,” you say softly “This one is for Lisa isn’t it? ‘cause she’s a Taurus?” you ask your fingers running over the tattoo on his left shoulder.

“That’s right and I have SCS for Scott, Carly and Shanna on my ankle” He nods.

You continue to point out all the different tattoos he had, many of them relating to loyalty and his family “Who’s Bardsley?” you ask your hand resting over the tattoo in question.

Chris lets out a long sigh, his gaze drifting off for a moment before settling back on yours “He was one of my best friends from my childhood, when we were teens we both decided we wanted to go into the fire department but he died in an accident before he got the chance, so when I finished my training I got this tattoo so he was always on the job with me” he tells you quietly.

You blinked a couple of times to stop the tears that collected in your eyes hearing that story, you gently cup his cheeks and lean in to softly kiss him “You are the greatest man I have ever met” you tell him, he lets out a small huff and shakes his head with disagreement but he doesn’t argue “you are” you tell him pulling back enough to look him in the eyes and drive your point home earning a soft smile in response “and what about this one” you say pointing to the last tattoo which was the large chest piece of an eagle.

“I just like eagles” he jokes making you laugh loudly, his hands squeezing your sides as you threw your head back.

“no seriously, what does it mean?” you ask him with a smile.

“eagles mean strength, courage and freedom which are the qualities you need to do what I do” he explains with a soft smile.

“I love how they all have really sweet and deep meanings,” you tell him looking down at his chest, running your hands over the different tattoos “Do you have any more you wanna get?” you ask.

“I’m considering getting one for you” he admits making your eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“Really?” you ask shocked.

“of course and I’m thinking of getting a little doughnut” he smirks making your roll your eyes and you push yourself off his lap, but he doesn’t let you move, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you there.

“I’m joking” he chuckles “At least about the doughnut part, I’m not sure what to get for you so far everything I’ve thought of hasn’t felt perfect” he admits “but as soon as I figure it out I’m heading straight to my tattoo artist so I always have you right with me,” he says taking your hand and resting it over his heart.

You smile softly shaking your head as you lean down and kiss him “I love you” you murmur against his lips.

“I love you too” he whispers, cupping your jaw and tilting your head so he could deepen the kiss.

You moan softly, your fingers gripping his St Christopher chain as his tongue slipped past your lips, flicking against yours teasingly. You shifted your hips closer to him, grinding down onto his erection.

“Fuck babe if you keep wiggling like that this is going to end much sooner than we want” Chris groans gripping your hips tightly.

“Okay, I’ll stop” you smirk pushing back away from him, moving to the opposite seat.

Chris watched you intensely, licking his lips as you lifted your bikini up over your head. You kept hold of it as you shimmied your bottoms off as well, letting the both of them float over to Chris. A wolfish grin grew on his face when he saw it wasn’t just your top that you removed.

His eyes darkened with lust as he moved over to you, his hands hooking behind your knees and wrapping your legs around his waist. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, fingers running up into his hair and tugging at the strands as you kiss him deeply dragging his lower lip through your teeth.

He groaned gripping your hip tightly, pulling your closer, discovering that he also had removed his bottoms. You push on his shoulder and he instantly moves to sit on the bench, you straddling his hips once more.

Chris grabs your ass, squeezing it as he lifted you enough to line himself up with your core. You tilted your head back with a moan as you sunk down onto him, giving him perfect access to your neck and chest.

Your back arched as you rotated your hips, a moan fell from your lips as Chris pressed wet kisses in the valley of your chest. He kept one of his hands on your hip, guiding you as you ground down onto him. The other moved to your chest, massaging one breast, his thumb running circles over your sensitive peak. He gave your other breast equal attention but with his mouth, making you gasp when he pulled your peak through his teeth only to soothe it with his tongue.

“Fuck what I’d give to live in this moment forever” Chris moaned as your fingers scratched through his beard and tugged on his hair.

“You feel so good, make me feel good” you whine rolling your hips more so you could feel him deeper inside you, feel the delicious burn as he stretched you open and hit that golden spot within you every time “Only you” you gasp your head lolling forward.

“Only I make you feel good” Chris mutters nudging his nose under your chin to make you look up, capturing your lips once you did you.

You nod “No one else” you manage to say between kisses.

“Good” he murmurs as he nips at your lower lip “I wanna ruin you for anyone else,” he says as his lips travel down your jawline, to your neck and collarbone. “You ruined me on that very first night” you admit, your head rolled back.

That practically makes Chris growl as he snaps his hips up to meet yours, punching the air out of your lungs as he thrust deep inside you.

“You ruined me too, even when I thought I hated you I was jacking off at the thought of you” Chris grunted “slapping your pretty ass and shutting you up with my cock”

“You should have, might have aimed elsewhere at the softball game” You pant, your nails digging into his shoulder and back.

Chris’ chest rumbled as he chuckled “You are trouble” he muttered as he captured your lips once more.

He thrust up into you a few more times before your legs began to tremble as your peak drew near. You didn’t have to say anything and Chris just knew, guiding you over the edge, following soon after painting your wall with his spend.

“Fuck” you breathed out heavily “you might have to get a hot tub if it leads to that kinda sex”

Chris chuckled as he tucks strands of hair that had come loose from your bun, behind your ear “I’ll start saving, but I promise you this, it’s only you… not the location” he says with a lopsided smile.

You give him a lazy grin as you leaned in to nuzzle your nose against his “Glad to hear it” you whisper before softly kissing him.

Chris smiles into the kiss, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine “We should probably get out before we shrivel away to nothing” he says.

You hum in agreement nodding your head “You’re right, but I honestly don’t think I can stand after that” you admit making Chris smile proudly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you” he promises “Just hold on tight”

You nod wrapping your arms around him securely, resting your head on his shoulder. As he stood the cold nighttime air hit you making you shiver but Chris quickly grabbed a towel with one hand and draped it over you to keep you warm. He quickly turned the hot tub off before carrying you indoors to carry on the fun inside.

It had been a pretty quiet morning, Chris managed to wake before you and after he took the opportunity to just watch you for a moment he decided to treat you to breakfast in bed. He fried up some bacon and eggs and cut up some fresh fruit. He also made some coffee since you both were up pretty late last night.

When he carried the tray through into the bedroom he smiled softly when he saw you had rolled onto your stomach, head resting on your arms. What he loved the most though was that the covers had fallen giving him the best view of your bare back.

Setting the tray down on the side he gently climbed into bed, holding himself up over you as he began to press soft kisses down your spine. You let out a quiet high pitched hum as you began to stir, rolling over once Chris reached the base of your spine. Glancing up at you he could see the sleepy look and smile on your face, eyes still shut. Chris then began to work his way back up your body, pressing kisses the entire way. When he reached your neck he ran his nose underneath your chin to tilt your head back and kiss him better access to your neck.

“Mornin’” he mumbled before finally pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Mornin’,” you say with a lazy grin, hand coming up to cup his cheek, fingers scratching through his beard “Something smells nice”

“I made you breakfast in bed,” Chris says pecking your lips once more “And as much as I don’t want to stop this, I don’t want it to get cold,” he says climbing back out of bed.

He first passes you one of the hoodies he packed to keep you warm before grabbing the tray and setting it down on your lap.

“Looks amazing, thank you babe” You smile up at him.

“Anything for you sweetheart” Chris grins as he moves to sit beside you, snatching a strip of bacon from the plate.

Once breakfast had been eaten the both of you started getting ready for the day. Chris changed into a light sky blue button-down, creamy white trousers and a matching jacket. By the time he was ready, you were still in your bathrobe applying makeup so he left you to it, going to relax in the living area.

He was standing fixing the cuff of his sleeves when he heard the clicking of your heel’s behind him as you approached. He naturally glanced over his shoulder before doing a double take and spinning around to face you. His mouth went dry and his jaw was practically on the floor you looked that amazing and he was so glad he didn’t sneak a peak before because fuck, seeing you now was like seeing an angel. Your light blue dress matched his shirt perfectly, it flowed perfectly around your body, loose and tight in all the right areas. If someone told him he was actually looking at Aphrodite right now he’d agree with them, you looked that beautiful. It only got better when you did a little twirl and Chris could see how far the dress dipped in the back, showing off the fact you weren’t wearing a bra, making him groan.

You then smirked as you walked over to him “Have I actually rendered you speechless Evans?”

Chris could only nod, closing his mouth and swallowing deeply “fuck sweetheart… you look stunning” he finally managed to say his voice gravelly.

“Worth the wait?” You ask tilting your head to the side as you straighten the lapels of his jacket.

“So, so worth the wait” Chris grins as he rests his hands on your hips, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress “I just wanna carry you straight back into the bedroom and show you just how much I love it”

You chuckle softly, patting his chest “Save that for later, the Uber will be here soon and we don’t want to be late” you reason.

Chris lets out a sigh “I don’t like it… but you’re right” he muttered “Got everything you need?”

“Yep, even got my emergency flats in case I need them” You nod patting your bag.

“Very smart” Chris smiles just as he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket “That’ll be our Uber” he says pulling out his phone.

“Great, well lead the way handsome” You grin linking your arm in his.

It was only a short drive from the beach house to the venue which was a gorgeous country club with views out onto the ocean. Climbing out of the car Chris turned and held out his hand to help you out of the car. It was a simple thing holding your hand as you walked into the venue, but it meant everything to Chris. This was the first real time that he got to show the world that he was yours and you were his, no hiding.

“Damn! You two are looking good” Paul whistled as you stepped onto the lawn where the ceremony would be held.

“What this old thing?” Chris smirked holding his jacket out.

“I take back what I said, only Y/N looks good” Paul retorts and Chris didn’t disagree one bit.

“Thank you, Paulie, you look great too” you smile.

“I do polish up well” Paul smirks “Come sit down we saved you both seats” he smiles gesturing for you to follow him over to the rest of the crew.

Everyone greeted the both of you with bright smiles, Chris smiling proudly when everyone complimented you. Watching as you laughed when Scott took your hand and twirled you around.

“If I was a straight man, Chris would have some serious competition” Scott smirked.

“I’ll try not to be offended by that” Steve scoffed playfully.

Scott instantly turned around and threw his arms around Steve “Don’t worry you’re the only one who owns my heart… and Tobi” he grins as he kisses Steve on the cheek.

“So has anyone seen or heard from either of the blushing brides?” Chris asks as he sits down, smiling when you sat down next to him positioning yourself closer into his side, resting one hand on his knee.

“No, but we know that they’re so eager that as soon as everyone gets here the ceremony’s gonna start” Jimmy explains.

“I don’t blame them” Chris smiles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and looks over at you, fingers running circles on your shoulder.

The crew all caught up and chatted while waiting for the ceremony to start. Exchanging stories of what they got up to yesterday, Chris smiling when you told them about your trip to the seafood restaurant.

It wasn’t long until the ceremony started. It was beautiful, both Emma and Jamie looking beautiful in their respective dresses. However, throughout the entire ceremony, Chris’ mind was elsewhere. Because all he could think about was what his wedding to you would be like. He pictured what you’d look like as you walked down the aisle towards him, what his vows to you would be.

And the surprising thing about it all was that he found the whole prospect exciting. Whenever he thought about getting married before he met you the prospect was terrifying, living in fear that no matter what vows he made he was doomed to break them. Heck for a whole period of his life he was certain he wasn’t gonna find anyone.

But looking over at you and seeing the smile on your face as you watched Jamie and Emma, there was no fear in his body at all. He knew that getting married wasn’t something in your near shared future, but Chris knew that there was no one else for him and when the time came he would be straight down on one knee and might even drive you straight down to city hall to make it official right then and there.

Chris couldn’t stop himself from resting his hand on top of yours and leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. As he pulled away you looked over at him with a soft smile before returning your attention back to the ceremony. As you did so Chris caught sight of Scott a few seats down the row who had seen the whole thing and had a knowing smirk.

‘The one’ Scott mouthed over to Chris, who just glanced back at you before looking back at his brother and nodding.

When everyone stood at the end of the ceremony to watch Jamie and Emma walk back down the aisle, Chris noticed you wipe a sly tear from your eyes so he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him warmly and tucked yourself into his side, where you remained as everyone started making their way over to the marquee for the reception.

When everyone sat down the meal was soon served and Chris wasn’t ashamed to admit that he grabbed your chair and tugged you closer at the earliest opportunity. Everyone was still talking and laughing once the meal was done, Chris’ arm slung over the back of your chair as he talked to Jimmy. The conversations only stopped when Emma and Jamie came over to greet everyone.

“oh, you both look so beautiful! The ceremony was lovely thank you so much for inviting me” You smile as you stand up to hug the both of them.

“oh stop it! it’s lovely to have you here even if you and Chris are currently stealing our limelight as the most loved-up couple” Jamie scolds playfully.

“we’ll tune it down” Chris promises with a laugh.

“Please don’t! it's so lovely to see you guys happy especially since it took you guys so long!” Jamie laughs shaking her head “but look we have like hundreds of other people we need to say hello to but we’ll be back to party as soon as we can” she promises looking out at everyone.

“we’ll have the shots ready when you do” Paul winks.

“That’s my man” Jamie cheers pointing over at him “See you guys later,” she says before taking Emma’s hand and walking off to the next table.

Soon enough the party really got going and everyone was either at the bar or on the dance floor. Chris couldn’t remember the last time he felt so light, his cheeks hurt he was smiling so much as he danced with you. His favourite thing was to spin you around before pulling you back towards him, hearing your laughter as clear as day over the music. Every time he’d pull you in, your hand would rest on his chest or cup his cheek. On the most recent spin through you up’d the anty by turning your back to him, hips swaying side to side against his. his hands gripped and ran down your sides to your hips to keep them there, mostly because he was absolutely loving it, but also because if you stepped away it would become very clear how tight his trousers now were.

He leans down to press a kiss to your neck before whispering in your ear “I’m gonna have to find a closet or something if you keep this up” he warns with a quiet growl.

You glance over your shoulder at him “Let go of my hips then” you smirk.

“not a chance” Chris muttered nipping at your earlobe, tugging your hips back towards him, smirking when he heard the small gasp that escaped your lips when his erection poked into your backside.

A couple more songs played before the lights dimmed slightly and the music turned slow. A large group of people made their way off the dance floor but Chris wrapped his arm around your waist, turning you to face him and pulling you closer. You smiled warmly up at him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“thank you for inviting me on this weekend away,” you say quietly as the both of you sway to the beat “It's been the best weekend ever, and we’re not even halfway through”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, thank you for coming with me, I would have been moping in the corner wishing you were here otherwise” Chris chuckles lightly “might have even left early and driven back to Boston to you”

“Really?” you ask your eyebrows rising in disbelief.

“Yeah” Chris scoffs lightly nodding his head “The only reason I’ve had any fun today was because of you”

“what about your crew? And Scott? you would of have fun with them” you point out.

“yeah but nowhere near as much fun, I would have just been missing you” Chris tells you, his thumb brushing over your hip.

“I would have been missing you too,” you say softly fingers running up over the nape of his neck and up into his hair.

Chris smiled warmly down at you, cupping his cheek before gently capturing your lips with his. He felt you smile into the kiss which just made him kiss you deeper, his mind wandering as he wonder whether he’d be doing the same if this was your first dance together. He could picture his crew cheering from the sidelines, but he wouldn’t care, nothing would take his attention away from you.

When you finally pulled away your eyes narrowed slightly as you looked up at him “What?” you ask quietly.

Chris shakes his head gently “Nothing… just enjoying the moment” He smiles before kissing you once more.

As the evening drew on, you and Chris gradually grew more handsy with each other. There was never a moment when you weren’t leaving lingering teasing touches on each other. By the time you got back to the beach house the both of you were so hot under the collar that Chris believed it was a miracle that you even made it inside.

He was just locking the door behind him when he turned to see you putting your bag down on the side. His eyes roamed your body hungrily, his tongue poking out to wet his lips when he saw the heels that he was very grateful that you had kept on all evening.

He was already closing the distance when you were turning back around to face him, you let out a surprised noise as he crashed his lips against yours before completely melting into his touch. The only thing that kept you standing was his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

Your hands found his cheeks as the kiss deepened, his tongue claiming dominance over yours making you moan into his mouth. He held onto you tightly as he began walking you back towards the bedroom. His fingers were already pulling at the strings that held your dress up, your hands already working to push his jacket off his shoulders and unbutton his shirt leaving a trail of clothes towards the bedroom.

By the time the back of your knees hit the bed, Chris had gotten you down to just your lacy underwear and heels, him now only in his trousers. He hooked his hands behind your knees, wrapping your legs around his waist as he gently lay you down on the bed. A lopsided grin grew on his face as he looked down at you, looked at this goddess that was staring back up at him, your hair spread out like a halo making you look even more ethereal.

This wasn’t the first time he had taken you to bed, and it certainly would not be the last. But at that moment Chris decided that despite being teased and worked up all evening, he wanted nothing more than to just worship you. He kissed your lips softly before he began exploring the rest of your body with his lips, making sure no area was left untouched.

He smirked when he heard your breath hitch the further down he got, when he reached your hips he began to tug down your underwear, slowly pulling them down your legs before discarding them over his shoulder. He then worked to remove your heels, earning a moan when he massaged the soles of your feet, he then worked his way back up your leg pressing soft kisses as he went.

You let out a pleading whimper when his lips ghosted over your core, it took all his willpower to not dive in like a man starved. Chris heard you gasp a curse when he finally ran his tongue up your folds, collecting the sweet juices of your arousal until he reached your sensitive bud and flicked it with the tip of your tongue.

Your hand flew to his hair and your hips ground down against his face as he wrapped his lips around your clit and began to suck. Glancing up at you he could see you playing with your breast with your free hand, not wanting the other to miss out Chris reached up his fingers pinching and twisting the sensitive peak making you cry out in pleasure.

Your thighs squeezed around Chris’ head when he completely dove in, his beard scratching against your inner thighs as thrust his tongue as deep as he could into your channel. He had to use his free hand to stop your hips from moving too much and it wasn’t long until he made you come, flooding his mouth with your arousal.

Chris didn’t let up until he felt your muscle relax, he pressed one last kiss to your core before climbing back to his feet. He admired you basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, your chest rising and falling deeply as you caught your breath. Licking his lips he finished undressing before climbing back onto the bed.

As soon as you could you grabbed his cheek and pulled his lips down onto yours, humming in appreciation as you tasted yourself on his lips. Your hand then trailed down his chest, making his hiss when your fingers wrapped around his erection. Your thumb spreading the beads of precum around the swollen head.

“I need you Chris” you plead looking up at him through your lashes.

“I need you too sweetheart so, so much” Chris mutters as he presses another kiss to your lips.

His hand reaches down to remove yours, moving it to above your head his fingers weaving with yours. He then lines himself up and begins to slowly press up into you, your fingers squeezing his hand with every inch he gave you. Once he was fully seated inside you he stopped to just savour the moment, trying to commit every sensation to memory. He was in no hurry tonight and it seemed like you weren’t in any hurry too, you just smiled as he pressed lazy kisses to your lips.

Eventually, he did begin to move, setting a slow, steady but deep pace. He wanted to worship you all night, make love to you, take his time to draw you to your peak. His lips barely strayed from yours, only moving as far as your neck as he slowly thrust into you, your moans like music to his ears.

“fuck yes Chris right there” you moaned head thrown back after a particularly deep thrust., The hand that held yours squeezed tightly as Chris repeats the same movement, pulling more and more moans from you.

Chris managed to draw two more orgasms from you over the course of the evening, he could feel another drawing in but he could also tell you were holding yourself back.

“let go sweetheart, just let go” he grunted as he continued his slow thrusts.

“only if you do too” you gasp out “I want- I want you to come with me” you plead your half-lidded eyes meeting his.

Chris nods dipping down to kiss you deeply “I will, I promise” he swears before giving you another deep thrust.

It wasn’t long after that Chris felt you hit your peak with much more vigour than before, your walls clenching around him making it impossible for him not to follow after you. He came with a loud moan, unloading himself into you, painting your walls with his spend.

His vision was gone momentarily, replaced with what he could only describe as stars as he came down from his high. He didn’t need his vision though as he dipped down to capture your lips in a deep and languid kiss.

When Chris pulled back and looked down at you, his vision cleared he knew nothing had really changed, but it was like he was having an epiphany. He was seeing you in a completely different light, it was like he’d never seen you before and now it was like seeing heaven.

His heart was pounding in his chest but he felt an overwhelming feeling of calm. He felt at peace but also like he had this unbridled energy that he just needed to do something with. He felt lighter than air but also a comforting weight surrounded him.

What he was feeling was strange, unfamiliar and alien but he knew without a doubt what it was. He knew deep down that he’d loved you from the moment he saw you in that bar. You had captured his attention like no one else could and all you were doing was sitting there, picking at the label of your beer. Yet he could remember the magnetic pull that drew him towards you, it might have been the same magnetic pull that guided him to that bar that night.

He had always loved you. But right now, he Loved you. It was this whole new level of love that he didn’t know existed until this moment. Yet despite that he knew everything about it, he knew exactly how it felt like and that he would only ever feel it for you. It made him want to run out onto the back deck and shout it for the whole world to hear.

But his whole world was right here in front of him “I love you” he whispered, his fingertips brushing over your cheekbone as he tucked some hair behind your ear before cupping your jaw and tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb.

You smiled softly back at him “I love you too” but Chris knew you hadn’t understood the weight of his words and he was desperate for you to know just how much he loved you, he would repeat himself until he lost his voice and then write it down for miles until you understood him.

“No, no” he muttered shaking his head “I really love you, I know I’ve told you before and I meant it every time but now… I really really love you, with every atom of my being and I will never stop not in this life or the next”

Your lips parted and your eyes widened slightly as they searched his. You blinked and the look in your eyes changed, even if you didn’t realise it yet Chris knew you felt the exact same way as he did. He could see it in your eyes, a direct reflection of what he was feeling in his soul, connecting the both of you in a way that not even the fates could break.

“I really love you too Chris” you whispered, your voice barely audible but Chris heard it loud and clear.

A wide smile broke out on his face as he crashed his lips down onto yours. Allowing every feeling he had to spill through as he saw to himself and the universe that you were it for him and there was absolutely nothing that could break the bond that had been created tonight.

When you woke the following morning you let out a long groan, your head pounding as you rolled over and curled up closer to Chris, your head buried in his chest. He let out a deep chuckle, his chest rumbling against your forehead making your headache even worse.

“babe, I love you… but please stop laughing it's hurting my head” you mumble pulling the covers up over your head.

That made Chris laugh even more but this time he shifted slightly so it didn’t hurt your head “I’m sorry, do you want some painkillers?” he offers his hand running up your arm.

You tilt your head to look up at his, barely opening your eyes “Yes please” you plead.

Chris presses a kiss to the top of your head before sitting up and grabbing the painkillers and large glass of water that he’d clearly set aside earlier. You go to sit up but let out a small cry of pain when you felt the ache in your core. Chris looks over his shoulder his brows furrowed in concern, you bit your lip and Chris’ eyes dipped lower before a smirk grew on his face when he realised why you cried out.

“sounds like you need these more than I did” He smirks as he passes you the painkillers and water.

You poke your tongue out at him before tossing back a couple of painkillers and downing half of the water in a few large gulps. You then slumped back against the headboard and looked up at Chris.

“I know we found all those places to explore today, but I just don’t think I have the energy” you admit.

Chris wraps his arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of your head “That’s alright, gives us a good reason to come back” Chris says “We can just relax and recover today and maybe have a walk along the beach if we fancy it later”

You snuggle up closer into his side “Sounds amazing, and a good fry up too” you say making Chris chuckle.

“Coming right up,” Chris says making a move to climb out of bed but you stop him.

“not yet, cuddles first” you mumbled, Chris chuckled shifting back closer to you and kissing the top of your head.

“don’t have to tell me twice” Chris grins as he gets comfortable beside you.

It was gone midday when you and Chris finally got out of bed and made your way into the kitchen for a very late breakfast. You sat at the kitchen island, chin resting in your hand as you watched Chris cooked up some food for the both of you. You smiled to yourself as you watched him hum to himself as he cooked.

Once he was done cooking he set the plates down in front of you, sitting beside you scooting his stool closer to you as he sat down. The both of you ate in comfortable silence, Chris’ hand moving to rest on the small of your back whenever he could.

You spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach house deck just relaxing in the sun before deciding to go on a walk along the beach together.

Holding your flip-flops in one hand you start walking into the ocean, the water halfway up your calves when you turn around to see Chris still standing on dry land.

“Are you not gonna join me?” You ask.

“Nope, I’m perfectly happy and safe here on dry land,” Chris says shaking his head.

“Oh c’mon there’s nothing to worry about, we won’t go far out enough to get caught in a riptide or anything” you reason.

“I know, but there’s just so much stuff in there that you can’t see” Chris points out gesturing out to the ocean.

“You told me you’ve swam in the lake, how is this different?” You question.

“Because the worst thing in the lake is fish, oceans have sharks” Chris states.

“Sharks are criminally misunderstood animals, they mean no harm,” you say pointing over to him.

“Tell that to Blake Lively and all the people in Jaws” Chris fires back crossing his arms over his chest.

You roll your eyes at him “Those movies are a bunch of bullshit, sharks just mistake surfers etc for seals and spit them out because we aren’t as tasty as seals, you’re more likely to die from a falling coconut than a shark attack” you explain walking back over to him.

“Coconuts don’t have sharp teeth” Chris points out making you groan in annoyance.

“Chris please? Just paddle with me, no further than our knees, no shark will attack you I promise” you plead, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

Chris looks down at you unconvinced but you could see his resolve slowly breaking “Will you say I’m a bad boyfriend if I stay on the side closest to the shore?” He asks.

You let out a snort of laughter shaking your head “No I will not, I shall protect you from any ocean beast I promise” you say holding out your hand.

Chris lets out a long sigh before removing his own flip-flops and walking over to take your hand. The both of you waded in so the water was halfway up your calves, glancing up at Chris you could see he was still unconvinced so you squeezed his hand reassuringly earning a warm smile from him.

As the both of you paddled along the beach you felt Chris relax and you thought maybe you might have helped him conquer his fear. That was until a piece of seaweed brushed against his ankle making him squeal and run back to the safety of dry land. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watch him, doubling over you were laughing so hard.

“it was just seaweed” you laugh picking up the offending piece of seaweed.

“I don’t care I’m not getting back in” Chris states shaking his head.

You laugh shaking your head as you throw the seaweed back at into the ocean “Fine suit yourself” you shrug.

You do move more in shore though so that the water was up to your ankles and you were closer to him. You walked a little further before Chris ended up walking beside you his fingers weaving with yours as his hand took yours.

When the sun began to set both you and Chris made your way back up onto the beach, sitting down on the dunes to watch the sunset. You sitting down in between Chris’ legs resting back against his chest. Chris wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder.

As you rested your head back against him you closed your eyes and just allowed the weekend to replay back in your mind. It had been perfect, not just because Chris had thoroughly spoilt you but because of how free it had all felt. Your relationship with Chris wasn’t a secret, but whenever you were out and about together you did worry that maybe someone close to your father had seen you, constantly looking over your shoulder, forcing you to be more private than you wanted to be. You had loved the fact that you had none of those worries here and you weren’t sure if you wanted to have those worries back.

“I don’t want this weekend to end” you admitted quietly.

“Me neither” Chris hums pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“I love my job and my life and friends back in Boston but being here and being able to be so out in the open with you is so freeing and I don’t want to hide it anymore” You continue looking over your shoulder at him.

“What do you mean?” he asks his brows furrowing together.

“It means I’m gonna tell my father about us, I don’t know how I am but I will,” you tell him, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

Chris’ arms wrap around you tighter as he clears his throat “Are you sure because I don’t want you to do this if it's gonna hurt you” he asks.

You let out a long sigh looking back out at the calm ocean, the regular sound of the waves washing up onto the beach calming you “It won’t be nice, and I’ll probably need the biggest hug ever afterwards… but I want to do it, and he’ll see how happy I am and won’t stand in the way of that”

When Chris doesn’t say anything you look back over your shoulder at him and see the conflicted look on his face. You could tell he was clearly conflicted about it, you knew he’d enjoyed the freedom of this weekend as you, but you also knew he didn’t like your father.

“I really hope you’re right…” he finally says closing his eyes as he leant in to kiss your shoulder “I hope he surprises me, but I want you to know that whatever he says won’t change the way I feel about you, I’m not gonna let him get in the way of us, I will go down fighting if I have to” he swears.

You reach up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his beard soothingly “It won’t come to that I promise” you promise him.

Chris sighs quietly resting his forehead against yours “I really hope so” he whispers before capturing your lips in his.

A/N: This moodboard is no indication of the readers looks, size, race etc this is just to show off the look and feel of this chapter

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

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#NiamhWrites #Burnin’ up series #firefighter!au #firefighter!chris #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #Chris evans x you #chris x reader #chris x y/n #chris x you

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stormkobra-5 · 2 years

Note

Can i request the moon boys reacting to y/n getting angry at a sibling over a special interest I think it might be funny seeing the moon boys reacting to y/n who is usually nice and sweet just go ballistic

I kinda lost it at my brother today swore like a sailor over marvel icronicly 🤣

I keep requesting cause i love your writing so much 💖💖

Bro?!?! Buddy?!?! Are you me?!?! This literally happens to me all. The. TIME. I know exactly how you feel. I’m flattered you think my writing is that great, I don’t mind you sending in requests at all! uwu

Pairing: Moon Boys x gn!Reader

Fic Type: Blurb

Summary: You’re typically sweet as sugar, but when your sibling teases you a little too much about a special interest, you take a turn that’s extremely surprising to your boyfriends.

A/N: This takes place in an au where Moon Knight is not in the MCU, they’re real superheroes serving the real god of the moon and the MCU is a movie series. :p (I was gonna use Star Wars, but you mentioned Marvel, so I decided to use that if that’s okay.)

Note: [Y/S/N] = Your Sibling’s Name

Rating/Warnings: 14+, strong language, probably some incorrect MCU references, an AU that doesn’t make sense b u t *shrugs* this is fanfic, bewildered Moon Bois, gn!sibling so that it’s more reader-friendly (I didn’t want to just add brother or sister lmao), cussing, swearing, and name-calling to a sibling in a loving manner, a sibling teasing reader in a sibling way, reader using crappy insults because I’m not very creative lmao

Your sibling had come to visit you in Steven’s little flat, an unexpected surprise that neither of you were anticipating in the slightest. Unannounced completely. It wasn’t bad, it was just… Startling? Yes, startling is the correct term.

I mean, the flat was a mess. Your lazy weekend was indeed the laziest of weekends. That meant lots of cuddles and not so much actually getting up to put things in the trash can, or do the laundry, or do the dishes. It looked like the flat hadn’t been cleaned in months. I mean, what were they gonna say about you to the rest of the family?! That you and your boyfriend(s) were slobs?!

Marc and Jake immediately retreated into the headspace when Steven opened the door curiously to find your sibling standing there. “Oy?! Lads?! Where’d’you think you’re going?!” Steven’s desperate thoughts were met by Marc and Jake’s unadulterated terror.

“Ohoooo no, hombré,” Jake said, turning to hide in one of the back rooms of Steven’s mind-replicated flat. “I’m not ready to face that yet!”

“Besides, Steven,”Marc reasoned, slowly backing away, “You’re the nicest and most likable out of the three of us.”

And so that was how Steven alone was promptly smushed into a bone-crushing hug. “So you’re the boyfriend!”

“U-uhm… Yes, I am?” Poor Steven voiced it like a question, glancing back over his shoulder to try and convey his fear to you as you approached with a lazy smile.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend,” You gently pried Steven out of the hug, patting his back a little so that he might be reminded to breathe. The poor guy looked like a deer in the headlights, waiting for what he thought was the inevitable disapproval of your family member. “Steven, this is Y/S/N. Y/S/N, this is Steven.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Y/S/N shook Steven’s hand adamantly, whereas your boyfriend was a little more hesitant, a shy smile on his face. “Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“They have?” Steven seemed surprised. You wrapped your arms around one of his and leaned into his warmth.

“Don’t be so shocked, silly. Of course I talk about you.” To your sibling, you said with a jerk of your chin, “What’s up?”

“I was in the area for business,” Y/S/N replied, “Figured I’d swing through.”

“You have a hotel?” You inquired, pulling them further into your flat. Steven quietly shut the door behind you, ensuring that it was locked.

“Well, yeah, but it’s one of those old creepy ones like you see in scary movies.” At your frown, Steven perked up.

“Uh oh,” Marc thought, rushing into the headspace. “Don’t even think about it, Steven.”

“Amigo, if you do this, I swear to god, I will kick you in the crotch.”

“...Jake, we share a body.”

“And if he does this, we’ll be in pain already. Might as well make him suffer for it.”

“Why don’t you stay with us?” Steven offered, ignoring his alters. He saw your concern and wanted to get rid of it. You didn’t need to worry like that. He wanted to help, and the way your face lit up at the suggestion only made him more certain that this was the right thing to do– not to mention, your smile also shut his alters up for a second as they admired you.

Your sibling eagerly agreed, and while they went to collect their things from their hotel, you and Steven tidied up the apartment. You laughed and rambled on excitedly about having your sibling stay with you for a few days, and that night at dinner Steven grew more comfortable around them as they spoke, conversations touching on old family stories, amusing tales of childhood endeavors that ended in chaos, and nostalgic recollections of old places.

That is, until your sibling noticed your Marvel merchandise in the bedroom as you gave them a tour.

Comics, movies, an action figure or two, you had a connection to the movie franchise that your boyfriends found endearing. You would have them watch the movies with you, telling them all the details that they hadn’t noticed or pointing out comic Easter Eggs and similarities. They were pretty sure you could recite Black Panther line-for-line just from memory alone, and for all it was worth, the boys tried their absolute hardest to keep up with all the information, although the MCU was notoriously confusing.

“You’re still into Marvel, huh?” Your sibling joked.

“Um, yeah?” You gave them a look as if that was the dumbest question they could’ve asked.

Y/S/N just shrugged.

The boys thought nothing of it.

Y/S/N intended to stay for only three days, and on the first day, things went over smoothly. On the second, Steven overheard your sibling teasing you about your Marvel collection again. From where he sat with his book on Egyptian mythos, Steven lifted his head to listen to the exchange.

“Shut up, Y/S/N! Put that down!” You were sweet as always, your voice soft and tender.

“What, you mean your toys?”

“They’re not toys, they’re action figures.”

“Action figures. Action figures which you set on your five million Marvel comics. I’m surprised the floor doesn’t cave in.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible…”

“And you’re a geek.”

Still swapping playful banter, you and your sibling left the bedroom and went out for the day– but not before giving Steven a goodbye kiss. You pecked him a second time– “For Marc” – and a third – “For Jake” – before pulling away.

You returned later in the evening, with no sign of Y/S/N. “Where’s Y/S/N?” Steven questioned, glancing toward the door as if he expected them to enter as he spoke.

“We split up,” You answered as you started up some popcorn in the microwave. “They’ll come back later. For now, though…” You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. “We’ve got the evening to ourselves.”

“Sounds lovely, darling,” Steven hummed, kissing your cheek. His arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you close. “Marc says it’s your turn for movie night.”

“I know!” You chirped excitedly as the corn kernels in the microwave started popping. Steven– and Marc and Jake, within the headspace– watched fondly as you zipped around him, headed for the tv remote. “I know exactly what we’re watching.”

“Age of Ultron?” Steven guessed, eliciting a scoff from you.

“No. We’re watching the first Avengers. The original.”

As you prepared the streaming site, Steven continued where you’d left off with the popcorn, getting out the designated gigantic bowl and your favorite drinks. It was then that your sibling walked through the door, all smiles and warm greetings until they seen what you were putting on the tv. “Ugh. Avengers again? Haven't you seen it a billion times already? Give it a break, will ya?”

Steven, Marc, and Jake watched as you put your hands together like you were praying, taking a deep breath.

And then, you just…

It was like an atomic bomb went off or something.

“Alright, listen up you fucking dingbat,” You said— you! Their sweet Y/N, cussing?! The boys stared with wide, surprised eyes as you kept going. “I don’t give a shit— nay, two shits— what the fuck you think about my interests, because that’s just what they are. My interests. Hear that? Lemme say it again for your brain cells in the back: my. Fucking. Interests. So that means whatever two-cents you care to drop are promptly shoved in the ‘who-gives-a-fuck’ bin, which is lower on the goddamn rung than the ‘i-don’t-give-a-shit’ barrel. You’re here as my guest you fucking skunk-wad, and while you’re here you can either shut your damn mouth and enjoy the damn movie I’m putting on for entertainment, or walk the fuck away and go on casually about your boring-ass evening in whatever way you choose. But it’s my turn for movie night, dammit, so we’re fucking watching Avengers. Unless you wanna go fucking prance around the flat, then be my guest. Otherwise, shut up, fuck off, peace out.”

With that, you plopped on the couch as if nothing had happened. “Steven, honey, you can bring the popcorn. Come sit down.”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

Maldito infierno.

Steven very cautiously approached, feeling for all the world as if he were a soldier sneaking between two opposing lines of fire, still wide-eyed with shock. Did that just happen?! He was surprised when Y/S/N only nodded, as if impressed by your outburst. Steven sat beside you and braced for the worst, especially when your sibling sat down on his other side. You pushed play.

And simultaneously, you both grabbed a handful of popcorn.

What the bloody hell?

What the hell?

¿Qué carajo?

Then you both started excitedly making references and pointing out keys of the plot, as if you hadn’t snapped at your sibling. Oh, well. I guess we fight like that a lot, don’t we?

“Yeah, you’re right,”Marc shrugged within the headspace. “Though… I’ve gotta admit…”

“That was… Extremely sexy of them,” Jake added when Marc lost his words.

Steven didn’t vocalize it, but he didn’t need to. He was in full agreement. When your sibling left the next morning, Steven told you almost before the door had completely shut, “Y’know that was really bloody hot when you told them off, love.”

You laughed, leaning into his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Steven admitted softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Jake and Marc think so, too.” You hummed, thoughtfully. Maybe even somewhat shyly. You’d hardly ever gotten more than frustrated, so your little sailor-swear outburst was unexpected, even for you. You were drawn out of your thoughts, a peal escaping from your throat as Steven tickled your sides a little to get your attention. “We’ve got ourselves a little spitfire, lads!”

And from then on, that’s what you were.

Their spitfire.

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Thanks for reading! ^^ I hope you liked it!

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #stormkobra 5 answers #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 2 years

Text

you don't feel pretty, you just feel used - K.B.

(Part of my Red (Taylor's version) fics)

Song - The Lucky One

Pairing - Kate Bishop x Reader

Summary - When your date ignores you Kate is there to show you how you should be treated

18+ : smut; daddy!kate, sub!reader, thigh riding, nothing major idk

Word Count - 2204

A/N - this is kinda shit but i haven't written for like a month and wanted to finally post something also she's so hot and beefy in that gif i-

You were starting to hate SHIELD agents. Sure, maybe it was just one particular agent that was the subject of your anger filled eyes but for tonight, your petty self hates them all.

You thought it’d be nice, accept an invitation to a Stark party, maybe an Avenger bringing an agent to a party would look good - you didn’t know, you just didn’t want to go alone. So, you accepted their suggestion but of course they’d leave you sitting at the bar alone whilst they flirt with countless other people. You didn’t like them anyway, just thought a crappy trainee agent might enjoy a night out.

So, you let yourself sulk at the bar, dressed to the nines with nobody to appreciate it; feeling annoyed at yourself for thinking you’d finally have somebody to spend one of these repetitive nights with and like you could punch that stupid flirty smile from that stupid agent’s face.

You swilled the syrupy liquid in the bottom of your glass, watered down from the melted ice, cringing at the diluted taste as it burned down your throat. You smiled at the bartender as he slid another over to you, this time with an orange twist balanced on the rim, two fresh cubes of ice surrounded by the dark whiskey.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly sorry for yourself, mindlessly swinging your legs from the barstool, leaning your head on your hand as you looked out at other people who seemed to be having the time of their life. There’s only one person you’d want to spend this time with and you were yet to spot her in the crowds; she had spotted you though, looking over your body where you sat with effortless beauty. Her eyes were drawn to you the moment she stepped into the room and now she was waiting for an opportune time to slip away from the conversation she’d been dragged into.

It was a dull few minutes for her, nodding and smiling politely and quickly calling Sam over when she saw him. He glared at her playfully when she walked away, leaving him to be bored by the businessmen guests with endless questions, a sheepish smile and a shrug thrown his way. She nervously fidgeted with the rings on her fingers as she approached you, loosening her shoulders with a deep breath to psych herself up, mumbling potential opening lines under her breath. She was always nervous around you.

“Uh, hi - fancy seeing you here. At this bar, this party - well, of course you’re at this party, you’re an Avenger and I am too so. I knew you were gonna be here but hi.” She rushed out, blushing at the soft and amused smile you gave her, the same one you always give her.

“Hi Katie.” You smiled, gesturing to the stool beside you which she clumsily climbed onto. You couldn’t help but always smile at her endearing awkwardness, the ways she stumbles over her words. “You look great.” You grinned looking over her outfit, dark suit perfect on her body with a tie loosely hanging down, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your skin burn hot. She always was so effortly attractive, everything about her was perfect to you, the small snort she does when she laughs and the way she rambles about anything and everything. You could listen to her all day.

“You look beautiful.” She smiled, such earnest in her tone and surprisingly no awkward blush, just a completely sincere look in her eyes as she took in the view.

“Mm, well I’m glad you think so.” You hummed. “My date didn’t seem to.” You shrugged, pointing over to where they had their arms looped around someone else’s waist.

“Well, fuck them.” She grumbled, a blush in her cheeks but this time in annoyance accompanying the angry tone she rarely exudes. “You look perfect - like always.”

“You scrub up pretty perfectly yourself.” You returned, fiddling with the end of her tie where it hung down and she instinctively moved closer. She was so close you heard the breath leave her lips as she looked into your eyes, saw the movement of her neck as she swallowed thickly and the air seemed to heat up between you. “Come with me.” You breathed, pulling her towards you by her tie as you hopped down from the stool.

“Where are we going?” She muttered, following you through the crowds of people as you kept hold of her tie, looking even more beautiful in the brighter light of the hallways. Her hands subconsciously held onto your waist when she stumbled into you from a harsh pull, wrapping the tie around your hand to pull her closer.

“Kiss me.” You breathed, so close to her she could feel your breath against her lips, licking them nervously before using all of her confidence to close the space between you. She tasted like apple juice and vanilla vodka, an odd combination she swore by, her lips were perfectly soft against yours as she pulled you into her with her grip firm on your hips.

The way she kissed you was surprising, confident and sure movement of her lips against yours as she guided you backwards until your back was flush against the wall and her body was pressed against yours.

Your hands looped around her body, holding onto her back with your hand getting lost in her hair, dark strands wrapped around your fingers as her lips perfectly melded with yours. You gasped slightly at the coldness of her rings against your skin where her hand slipped beneath your shirt to hold onto your waist, giving her the perfect opportunity to slip her tongue past your lips, kissing you with all the confidence you never knew she had.

She left a path of soft kisses across your jaw to your neck, softly biting into the flesh of your neck beneath your ear. “Would you, maybe, wanna go somewhere more private?” She asked beside your ear, grinning widely at you at the eager nod you answered her with, taking your hand and dragging you in the direction of her bedroom.

You hurried with small giggles through the hallways, bright smiles at the finally revealed attraction you’d been harbouring for one another for a while. You smiled against each other’s mouths as she pulled you back into her as soon as the door shut behind you, laughing at the way you stumbled in your eagerness to be close, clumsily falling onto her bed from the push she gave you.

“I did not mean to push you that hard.” She laughed looking down to you where you sat on the edge of her bed.

“It was kind of hot actually.” You smiled, pulling her into you by her tie and pressing your lips to hers again. She lifted the hem of your shirt questioningly, watching with her lip caught between her teeth when you pulled it over your head and discarded it across the room along with your bra before leaning back on your elbows to watch her do the same.

Her eyes never left yours as she pulled her tie from around her neck, fiddling with the buttons of her shirt to reveal the soft skin beneath, discarding it along with her bra. The sight made your breath hitch in your throat, face flushing under her gaze and the smirk plastered across her lips as she continued to undress until only her underwear remained.

“Like what you see?” She smirked as she approached you, crawling across to straddle your hips whilst you just dumbly nodded. “Makes a change for you to be the flustered one, huh?” She chuckled, cupping your jaw in her hand with her thumb stroking over your cheek.

“Oh shush.” You huffed though couldn’t help but be flustered more as her lips pressed kisses across your chest and she dragged her nails down your torso leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Can I?” She asked, lifting the hem of your trousers, only tugging them and your underwear from your body after receiving an eager nod from you. “So beautiful.” She muttered, dragging her eyes over your naked body beneath her, adoring the sight she’d longed to feast her eyes upon for so long.

She positioned herself over your leg, pushing her lips to yours again in a lust filled kiss, lips moving together whilst your hands idly roamed her back and your bare chests pressed together. It was a glorious feeling, finally having her in the way you wanted with her soft skin against yours, only feeling better with the way her fingers danced across your body venturing south.

“This okay?” She asked, her breath hot against your lips from her proximity, as her hand grew ever nearer to where you wanted her most.

“Mhm, please.” You nodded, sighing out at the way she slid her fingers through your folds.

“Fuck, so wet for daddy already huh?” She asked, pushing her fingers into you with ease, the name she’d given herself had only left you craving her more, wanting nothing more in this moment than her, her touch, her lips.

Her fingers curled inside you, tips brushing over your g-spot in a perfect motion and the heel of her palm brushing over your clit whilst she kissed your neck. Never have you seen her successfully multitask but somehow she was able to push her fingers into you in the best way, bite into the skin of your neck and grind herself onto your thigh all at the same time; if your head wasn’t going fuzzy from the feelings between your thighs you’d be in awe at her skills.

You pulled her face back to yours, stomach twinging in arousal at the moan that bounced from the back of her throat to yours. You pulled away from the kiss with a bite to her bottom lip, leaving a path of kisses across her jaw to her neck, no doubt leaving marks behind from how you sucked onto her skin.

“Daddy, I’m so close.” You breathed out, groaning internally at how her actions slowed at your words.

“Hold it, baby. Cum with me, hm?” She returned, looking down to you with lust blown eyes, her lip bitten between her teeth and her thumb stroking over your cheek where she tenderly cupped your face in her palm. Her breathing quickened as she pushed her clothed centre over your thigh, thrusts growing sloppy as she neared her climax. You gripped onto her hips to aid her movements, fingernails digging into her skin at the sudden pressure of her thumb over your clit.

“Fuck, I’ve always wondered what you’d look like under me like this. Let me hear you, baby.”

It didn’t take much more for you to fall apart at her touch, moaning out beside her ear as she pressed tentative kisses along your collarbone and the grunt of pleasure she let out through shuddered breaths as she came moments later was music to your ears.

Your lips reunited in a messy kiss through heaving breaths and lust filled air, tongues swirling together whilst your hands tangled in her hair to hold her close. Her teeth nipped at the skin of your chest, trailing down teasingly slowly as your hand stroked through her hair. She kissed over your thighs, softly biting into the flesh before looking directly into your eyes as her tongue licked a stripe through your folds to your clit.

The confidence and intensity of her gaze was enough to set your skin on fire, a feeble whining at the pleasure of her lips latching onto you with a suck. She hummed at the sweet taste of you on her tongue, wrapping her arms around your legs with her nails digging into your thighs with dominance to keep your hips from bucking upwards in search of your release.

Your hand tugged on her hair with her actions, skilled lapping of her tongue over your aching bud and a stare that never wavered; watching your mouth hang open with heavy breath and choked moans, your eyes scrunching closed from the pleasure. The sight was perfect to her, only spurring on her motions.

“Fuck, Kate. ‘M so close.” You stuttered out, hand squeezing into a fist tangled within her hair making her groan against you. The vibrations of the sound along with the particularly harsh suck onto your clit was enough to send you over the edge, cumming into her mouth with a moan.

You looked down to see her hungry eyes on you still, her tongue swiping over her glistening lips cleaning away every drop of you she could as she crawled back over you.

“You taste so good, princess.” She muttered, kissing you again and you could taste yourself on your tongue. You rolled her over to switch positions, straddling her waist and looking down at the beautiful sight, eagerly pressing your lips to every bit of skin you could.

“My turn.” You smirked, kissing your way down her body as she watched with her bottom lip gripped between her teeth. “Let me make you feel good, daddy.”

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop fanfiction #mcu #marvel mcu #marvel wlw #marvel x reader #avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #boyfriend hailee #hailee my beloved #hailee steinfeld

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