suit up.

Aly here! This is my first time opening up a side-blog for the sake of taking on writing requests. Requests are OPEN!  On mobile?

[barnesrogersvstheworld-deactiva]

19 with Steve? Please and thank you!

Soft angel artsy Steve. I hope you like it!

Kisses meant to distract the other person from what they were intently doing.

Steve Rogers is quiet.

Bare feet. Bare chest. Long cotton lounge pants tied low at the hips. His hair is messy, sleep mussed; golden strands catch the early morning sunlight as he sits, hunched over the small wooden desk butted up against the window. His hand moves in determined strokes, rippling the muscles along his broad, strong back.

No files. No schematics. No mission briefings.

He’s focused, but peaceful. A rare glimpse of Sunday morning domestication. Of normalcy. As if putting his life on the line for the sake of the world isn’t his day job.

He’s so engrossed in his work he doesn’t hear you approach, startles a bit when you press warm hands onto his back, slide them up over his shoulders and wrap them around his neck.

“Hey, handsome,” you murmur, leaning over his shoulder to press a kiss onto his temple.

“Mornin’,” there’s a smile to his reply, but he doesn’t break stride, long fingers working magic across the paper stretched before him.

Color coats the tips of his fingers. Soft purple, dusty pink and sunset orange gather beneath his nails, along his cuticle beds, staining the skin down to the first joints. The box of soft pastels you’d gifted him last Christmas sits open to his right, neatly and carefully maintained.

You watch as he smooths fingers along the paper, carefully blending each swath and stipple of color into a dusky, watery sunset. It’s beautiful. Not unlike everything Steve has a hand in.

You move your hands from around his neck, slide them beneath his arms and spread them across the front of his chest. You lean forward, press against his back, place soft kisses along his shoulder and up his neck. He’s silent until your mouth reaches his ear, and then he breathes a long sigh through his nose.  

“Do you know,” he murmurs finally, “how incredibly distracting that is?”

You smile against his skin, smooth your hands down his torso, along the muscles that involuntarily tighten beneath your fingers, “Mmhm.”

“And you aren’t a bit sorry for it, are you?”

“Nope.”

Steve chuckles, leans back in his chair and tugs at one of your hands, effectively pulling you from behind him and down onto his lap. He settles you there, presses the pastel he was holding, warm yellow, into your own hand, and guides it over the paper.

“No,” you protest, “I don’t actually wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t,” and his lips press against the back of your shoulder now, “I just need a bit here.”

He guides your hand along the horizon line of the drawing, and then your fingertip, blending out the final touches of color as he presses intermittent kisses against you.

“There,” he says, satisfied. His hands drift to your waist, bleed color onto the soft white cotton of your sleep shirt.

Your eyes sweep the finished product, admiring Steve’s ability yet again, “It’s beautiful,” you say, “Makes me feel like I’ve been there before.”

“You have,” he answers, bunching the fabric in his fingers, tugging it up to expose bare thighs. Lips move along your skin as he continues, “Remember Beirut? The botched mission where Sam broke his leg. And you were so sick.”

“Oh.”

And images flash across your mind, pieced together and half forgotten with the hazy sickness of flu. Steve carrying you up flights of stairs. Holding your hair back while you were ill. Pressing a cool cloth to your forehead. It had hit you hard, crippled you for several days, had forced Steve to familiarize himself with you in ways that were too intimate for either of you at the time. In ways you were grateful you couldn’t remember much of now.

“Good times,” you tease as he tugs your shirt over your hips, slips his fingers beneath the hem and skirts them across your stomach, “I can see why you want to remember them.”

“I do,” he insists, fingers drifting ever higher, “It’s where I first knew I loved you.”

“Ah,” you arch against his touch, tilt your head back onto his shoulder, allowing his mouth access to your neck, “That’s so-” you shudder as stubble drags across your skin, “-wrong,”

There’s a pause. You sit up straighter, process his words again.

“That’s so wrong,” you repeat.

Steve’s silent, fingers rubbing lazy circles along your ribcage.

“Beirut?”

Lips touch the nape of your neck, “Yeah.”

“That was way before we were together.”

A noncommittal hum.

“Steve. Months before.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Yeah, well?” You shift in his lap, turn so that you can see his face. It’s sweet, all the places pastel dust has found its way onto him. A swoop of purple across his forehead. A dusting of orange along the side of his nose. Your heart swells, flutters in your chest as you smile at him, “you never told me that.”

“Technically I did. You were just in too much of a fever pitch to remember.”

And you shake your head, your laugh exasperated as you regard him. Fingers move to rub away the color on his forehead, but you only make it worse, spreading yellow alongside it. Steve mirrors your smile, and it’s sweet and lovely and a little bashful.

“So I’m slow on the uptake,” he shrugs, “It all worked out in the end, right?”

“Yeah. Because I was tired of waiting. Because I kissed you.”

And he laughs, tucks a lock of hair behind your ear as he closes the distance between your mouths, “I’m not above returning favors.”

[poorcap]

*taps on mic* Is this thing on?

Um, hi? So. I’ve been gone. I started my second year of college. I changed majors. I’m now in NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts for Dramatic Writing (i.e. screen, tv, and stage writing). So. I’ve been busy. I’ve got some updating to do with this page because I miss the hell out of it.

I have requests from up to 8 months ago sitting in my inbox. Think it’s time I make time for clearing that out. Maybe I’ll stock up my queue.

Anyway. 

Hi. I think. 

[poorcap]

Your 'burn' one shot with Chris absolutely destroyed me, in the best way possible. :) You are a fantastic writer and I love how you write Chris!

This is so sweet! Thank you!

[jenniferjuni-per]

Prompt for Steggy: The times she notices something is wrong and manages avoids a scene and the one time she doesn't. Slightly au with Steve being found in the ice earlier and struggling to adjust/recover

It wasn’t like Howard Stark to give up, and it certainly helped that Peggy had breathed down his neck the entire time, so that Steve Rogers was pulled from the ice in a matter of weeks. The hospital they had him in was woefully unprepared to treat a super soldier, yet alone a super soldier that needed to be thawed. With Peggy’s stern intervention and Howard’s limitless cash supply, they were able to secure the medical specialists they needed, and Steve seemed to be on the road to recovery.

Except Steve was his own worst enemy.

No one knew how long it would take him to recover, there wasn’t much in Erskine’s notes, and definitely not enough studies done on super soldiers, seeing as he was the only one. Steve seemed to think he had it under control, and no one possessed the wherewithal to stop him. Except for one Agent Peggy Carter.

“There’s a war to be won, Peg, and I’m not helping anyone from this hospital bed.” He had gotten out of bed, pulling on his Captain America uniform that had been mended by the nice old ladies from the volunteer auxiliary. Peggy watched him carefully, and he seemed to be okay. He certainly moved with purpose, no grunts or groans of strain, no halted movements, no pained grimaces. She let him go.

As he ran down the hall, everyone on the floor stopping to watch him, Peggy couldn’t shake the nervous feeling that something was wrong. Not caring that he would probably be upset with her for fretting over him, she got into her waiting car and asked the driver to head towards the airbase, where Steve would no doubt be heading.

When she saw the crowd up ahead she didn’t know whether to congratulate or curse herself for being right. She shoved everyone aside, and knelt down to cradle Steve’s unconscious head in her lap.

“You foolish boy,” she whispered, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

Keep reading

[avaalons]

Chris Evans Fic: The Hinting Game

Anonymous request coming to you all the way from Greece!

Have fun on vacay!!! Can you do a cute Chris Evans one of him hinting that hes ready for kids! Thanks 💙

***

In hindsight, you realised the hints had been coming for a while but it had just taken you some time to realise it. Thinking back, the first time, you were both at a Patriots game. Chris had dragged you to the merchandise shop at the stadium and while he spent the obligatory amount of time fawning over sweatshirts and deciding which one he should buy this time, his attention eventually turned to the kids section, his eye caught by an infant-sized romper type garment. ‘No. 2 Patriots Fan’ was in big writing taking up most of the space on the front but in brackets underneath: ’(but only because my dad is No. 1)’.

He held it up on its little hanger and looked at you which an open-mouthed expression of excited surprise.

‘Babe… how adorable and perfect is this?’

You just raised an eyebrow in a ‘my boyfriend’s such a dork’ kind of way and replied nonchalantly, ‘Yeah it’s cute. It’s a bit small for you though. Shame there’s no really little ones in our circle at the moment.’

Keep reading

[poorcap]

Hey! Idk if you write for sebastian stan but if you do (and if you don't just write it with Chris) can you do one where seb and reader are starring in a movie together and they're always flirty in interviews and stuff and sebastian (and reader) starts to develop feelings but he's really confused cuz he's in a serious relationship and sorry it's so detailed :)

I did this exact prompt already from you, anon! Check out Shaken!

[poorcap]

Oh gosh, Burn is amazing! My heart is singing with happiness.

Thank you so much!!

[poorcap]

mobile friendly masterlist

BUCKY BARNES

break in the recruits (bucky x reader)

i remember (bucky x reader)

the lights (bucky x reader)

the letter (bucky x reader)

CHRIS EVANS

opportunities (chris x reader)

asexuality (chris x reader)

bitter truth (chris x reader)

cold sunshine (chris x reader)

blood stains (chris x reader)

hatred in confined spaces (chris x reader) 

hot coffee (chris x reader)

no control (chris x reader)

disney and a date (chris x reader)

manners (chris x reader)

granted (chris x reader)

burn (chris x reader)

STEVE ROGERS

the last stance (steve x reader)

a new civil war (steve x reader)

how you get the girl (steve x reader)

a family (steve x reader)

hold on for me (steve x reader) - part two 

sorry, doll (steve x reader)

SEBASTIAN STAN

dinner? (sebastian x reader)

shaken (sebastian x reader)

are you jealous? (sebastian x reader)

try me (sebastian x reader)

hours of freedom (sebastian x reader)

[poorcap]

Burn (Chris Evans x Reader)

gif credit

Summary: Morning routine. You climb out of bed before your boyfriend and find yourself sharing pancakes with Dodger before he finally joins you, joking around with you, laughing together. Then Dodger interrupts something.

Word Count: 1640

Warning(s): implied sexual interactions

A/N: again, sorry for waiting. i appreciate anyone still around at this point lmao

Prompt: anonyomus request from anon. you’ll see why

It’s the first thing you grab when you finally force yourself from the entanglement of the now slightly dampened sheets. You could have taken a few more steps, picked up your own shirt, and slipped that over your head, but like always, you’re drawn to the t-shirt next to yours, thrown so carelessly onto the ground amidst the morning wake up call. You pull the white cotton tee over your head and yawn as the fabric falls and brushes your mid-thigh before slipping back into your underwear and taking one last peek at your boyfriend passed back out in your bed. Then it’s padding across the hardwood floor into the kitchen where the sun is shining through the windows of your Boston apartment from its highest peak in the sky.

Since the first craving of the day was already satisfied, the next thing on the list is pancakes. And you sure as hell know that the scruffy man down the hall isn’t going to complain if you make some for him, too.

With the pan heated and the batter mixed, you lean away from the stove to switch on the bluetooth stereo rested on the counter and play some low tunes, settling into your groove as you embark on the pancake journey. The first few are a little messy, but are the perfect color as you flip them over onto your readied plate, bopping to whatever pop music was whistling through the speakers and humming along as you pour another circle into the pan. You let the batter sizzle for a minute or two so you can start up the plot of coffee, almost too into the music and task at hand to notice the little nails on the floor as Dodger follows the smell of pancakes from where he had been banished to the couch earlier.

You laugh softly, reaching down and scratching his head as he nudges you, clearly trying to make his way to the plate of pancakes on the counter.

“I’ll give you one as long as you promise not to tell Chris,” You murmur to the dog, kneeling down to kiss his head, though it’s a failed attempt since he intercepts with his tongue, slobbering all over your face. Laughing a bit harder, you shake him off and stand up grabbing one of the smaller pancakes from the plate and tossing it to Dodger. He eagerly eats it, and as he’s finishing, you notice movement down the hall.

Face flushing, ready to be caught spoiling the dog, you turn back to the stove and flip over the browning pancake, acting nonchalant, though Dodger starts pawing at you for another.

“Saw that,” Chris calls from down the hall, his voice still thick with sleep.

“You saw nothing, dear!”

He snorts, sounding closer now as he pads into the kitchen in only his boxers.

“Right. I definitely did not see you feed my dog a pancake.”

You pretend to ignore him and hum along to the music again, flipping the pancake on to the plate and pouring the last of the batter in the pan.

“Aaaand,” Chris draws, and you feel him coming up behind you, feel his breath on the back of your neck before his arms snake around your waist. “I definitely don’t see that you’re wearing my shirt. Again.”

“Of course not,” You say under your breath, though the corners of your lips twitch into a lopsided smirk as you lean back into his chest and monitor the last pancake. “I would never.”

“Sure you wouldn’t.” He releases one arm from around you only to brush your hair off of one shoulder, giving him dangerous access to the now exposed skin of your neck. Which is already beginning to bruise in little spots. His lips touch just behind your earlobe before sliding down. “Good thing I love ya.”

You hum in response, not to the music this time, enjoying his grip on you, the warmth of his embrace.

You stay like that for a moment. His arms around you. Leaning back against his chest. Watching a pancake cook on the stove as his chin rests on your shoulder. It’s so domestic, it hurts. There’s no place else you’d rather be, with no one else, like anything else. Waking up to Chris every morning, even with the fights you got into every so often, it didn’t matter when mornings were like this.

Chris shifts and plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Mm, I have a question.” His grip loosens as he pulls back, grabs two mugs and the coffee pot, and disappears behind you to assumably make you both a cup.

“You know how I like my coffee by now, and if you don’t, maybe we need to reconsider this arrangement we have.” You push the spatula around the edges of the pancake, testing it, noting that it’s not ready yet.

He chuckles lowly. “Not that. But the part about our ‘arrangement….’”

You raise an eyebrow, playing along with a teasing tone to your voice, just about ready to flip the last pancake. “Babe, we already defined the relationship.”

Without looking at him, you know he rolls his eyes. You hear the coffee pot set on the counter, but Chris doesn’t move to the fridge for the creamer.

“Indulge me for a moment here.” You can hear the grin in his voice, and then his arms are suddenly winding back around your waist, his lips find your cheek, then he’s gone again.

“All right, all right.” You grin.

You hear movement behind you, figuring he’s moving to the fridge finally, but then you hear Dodger’s nails on the floor again, like he’s jumping, and Chris is laughing and pushing him off. “Dodger, c’mon, bud, really?”

Finally curious enough to face him, you turn.

And fight the urge to burst into laughter. And tears. All at the same time.

Chris kneels in front of you on one knee, fighting off the dog, laughing, though you can see, briefly, a small jewelry box in his hand.

You gasp. “Chris, are you…?”

Chris notices you and finally gets Dodger to back off for a minute. A little out of breath from laughing, he responds with a brighter, wider grin, “Tryna redefine the relationship, yeah. And it seems like Dodger wants me to make it quick. Or else he might steal my celebratory pancakes.”

You blink back the tears building in your eyes and nod, urging him to go on.

“I love you, [Y/N]. I’m not big on the big gestures here, and knowing you for as long as I have, I know you’re not either. I also know that you hate cliches, and I’m trying my hardest to avoid them, but… There is no one else I could ever love more than I love you, and I want to be there for you and love you for the rest of my life. [Y/N], will you—”

Dodger cuts in, licking at Chris’s face again as he tries to reach for the box, but it gives you a moment to try and catch your breath. But fail as a tear drips down your cheek.

“Dammit, Dodge,” He chuckles again, nudging him away and finally getting to open the little velvet case. “Marry me? And preferably say yes before the dog attacks me again.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, butterflies pooling in the very pit of your stomach. Reminding you of the first time he kissed you. The first time you spent the night at his place. And every kiss, and every night since.

But you paused, catching yourself, taking a deep breath, and waiting.

With a smirk plastered on your face, you cross your arms and shrug.

“Get ‘em, Dodger. Let him suffer a little longer.”

Chris’s eyes widen, but the dog obeys and immediately attacks his face again with kisses. Through the laughter, he gives up, standing up, and before you know it, his lips are crushed to yours, kissing you hard, with everything in him. And his face is wet with dog slobber.

You squeal, laughing as you pull away, playfully shoving at his chest, though desperately wanting to pull him back to you, minus the drool. “Chris!”

“Just say yes,” Chris says breathlessly, grinning wildly, holding up the ring again. “C’mon, I know you want to.”

You roll your eyes, mirroring his smile and moving closer. “Wipe the drool off of your mouth, and I’ll give you my answer.

Shaking his head, he wipes it off with the back of his hand and looks expectantly at you.

As soon as his hand falls to his side, your arms slip around his neck, drawing him back in, and you press your lips to his, murmuring against them, “Yes.”

His smiles against your mouth, kissing you back for a moment, breaking it only to slip the ring on your finger, and then his lips are back on yours, more eager than ever.

His beard brushes against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you draw him closer against you and drown in his kisses, even as Dodger whines and jumps at the show you two are putting on in the middle of the kitchen.

You’re so caught up in him, so drunk on Chris, drinking him in, relishing in his touch, in the weight of the ring on your finger, you ignore the tears falling freely now, dripping between you, turning the kiss salty.

You also ignore the burning pancake on the stove.

Chris pulls back, his attention straying from you, despite your protests. “Is something burning?”

You look at each other. Then both of your eyes widen, and you scramble to salvage the pancake burning into the pan.

Dodger at least enjoyed the burnt pancake.

And you enjoyed round two.

With your fiance.

[poorcap]

Read Hours of Freedom first thing in the morning and it was so good! First of all, how dare you use that gif! It's from one of my favorite photoshoots, and it's a cause of swooning! :) Second, the making up was super hot! And Chris' reaction and the fact he bolted away.. So funny.

Thanks so much!!

[poorcap]

mobile friendly masterlist

BUCKY BARNES

break in the recruits (bucky x reader)

i remember (bucky x reader)

the lights (bucky x reader)

the letter (bucky x reader)

CHRIS EVANS

opportunities (chris x reader)

asexuality (chris x reader)

bitter truth (chris x reader)

cold sunshine (chris x reader)

blood stains (chris x reader)

hatred in confined spaces (chris x reader) 

hot coffee (chris x reader)

no control (chris x reader)

disney and a date (chris x reader)

manners (chris x reader)

granted (chris x reader)

STEVE ROGERS

the last stance (steve x reader)

a new civil war (steve x reader)

how you get the girl (steve x reader)

a family (steve x reader)

hold on for me (steve x reader) - part two 

sorry, doll (steve x reader)

SEBASTIAN STAN

dinner? (sebastian x reader)

shaken (sebastian x reader)

are you jealous? (sebastian x reader)

try me (sebastian x reader)

hours of freedom (sebastian x reader)

[poorcap]

Hours of Freedom (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

gif cred

Summary: After a long night of filming, the three of you, Chris, Sebastian, and yourself, retire to your hotel room for some beers and shitty movies. Though one of the boys has had their eyes on you since the first day on set. 

Word Count: 2038

Warning(s): implied sexual interactions, i think there is some cursing?

A/N: sorry for the extremely long wait lol. also i dont do threeways because i personally find them uncomfortable and awkward (just my own preference) so i hope it’s okay i picked one of the suggested men

Prompt: Could i get a Sebastian stan x chris evans x reader smut where reader is apart of thw civil war movie and after filming they all hang out in readers hotel room then one thing leads to another? Thanks xx - itsforeveralyssaa

“You know,” You said, the cool glass of the bottle in your hand resting ever so slightly against your lip, “Our call time is six tomorrow morning.”

The bed vibrated with the laughter of the man perched beside you at the end of your hotel room bed.

“Please,” Sebastian chuckled, some syllables the slightest bit slurred, the cause being the four empty bottles littering the floor and the fifth in his hand. His free one clamped down on your shoulder, tugging you in closer to his side as a sloppy grin brightened his face. “Welcome to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, (Y/N). You’ll figure it out soon enough. How to get completely trashed at night and still manage to get the job done and well in the morning. It’s tradition. Right, Evans?”

Chris rolled his eyes, adjusting his position on the floor so that he could crane his neck back and look at you two on the bed while he was banished to the floor. “Tradition for you, maybe.” He laughed a bit beneath his breath before taking a swig of his third beer. “But also nothing coffee can’t fix.”

You tipped your own third bottle, though of a cider since beer wasn’t your style, in Chris’s direction with a brilliant smile mirroring Sebastian’s coming to your lips. “Very true. I suppose I have a lot to learn before I’m officially an Avenger after this movie.”

“Sure do. Especially since then you’ll be filming all night with us, rather than getting all nice and cozy in your hotel room watching cheesy romcoms.” Sebastian’s eyebrow quirked up, his hand falling from your shoulder. If you weren’t so buzzed, you could have sworn that the corners of his lips curved into some devious smirk, though you couldn’t quite grasp what he could possibly be hinting at.

Chris slumped back against the bed as his attention turned back to whatever mess was displayed across the TV screen, shaking his head. “We got lucky that we didn’t have any of those super long scenes today. Tonight might be the last free,” He paused to look at his watch, and you could see his lips moving slightly as he counted the hours since they’d been released from set, “Eight hours we have after filming. Which should have been for sleep, but…” He shrugged, taking a drink. “Better for bonding.”

You grinned and leaned forward, legs crossed beneath you, and ruffled his hair. “Well, thanks. Glad you’d sacrifice sleep to hang out with your new love interest on screen and best friend off. Means a lot.”

Chris blindly swatted at your hand with a laugh and tried to focus on the movie while Sebastian grew oddly quiet beside you, seemingly soaking into the cliche romance on the screen as well. Leaning back on your hand, other curled around the bottle of cider, you took a swig and attempted to watch Kate Hudson pretend to fall in love with Matthew McConaughey for the sake of an article.

For the first half of the movie, the three of you had been joking around, making fun of cheesy scripts and unrealistic standards in relationships and all that. But now, it seemed, with the clock on the nightstand reading three in the morning, the mixture of booze and exhaustion zeroed in everyone’s focus on the last half of the movie. And somehow, you really did find yourself absorbed in the story, changing your position so you were laying on your stomach, chin propped in your hand and drink set on the floor. As Matthew McConaughey leaned down in front of Kate Hudson in the bathroom of his parents’ home, ready to kiss her, you felt yourself pining for their lips to touch, for them to admit to each other that they were really in love. Then you felt weight beside you shift as Sebastian mirrored your position. And then as he leaned towards you to whisper in your ear.

“Wish that was us.”

Despite the alcohol in your veins, every nerve in your body went from numb to electric and on fire, on high alert. Your eyes pulled from the screen to meet the blue eyed, stubbly man lying next to you, and you murmured back, unsure you heard right. “You wish that was us?”

Sebastian laughed quietly, seemingly trying to avoid disturbing Chris on the floor and rise any attention to the two of you. Shifting his weight, he gently knocked his shoulder into yours, playful, flirtatious. “Mmhmm.”

You blinked in shock, blinking through the numbness in your mind, the brush of his touch sparking in your veins. “Are you drunk-confessing your love for me?”

Sebastian’s eyelids drooped, peering at you through his eyelashes as he leaned in closer. “Not that drunk. But I have wanted to kiss you since the first day on set, been kinda jealous of Evans that he’s already gotten to.”

Blame it on the alcohol. Or blame it on the words coming out of his mouth. But either way, there were no words of your own that you could muster of your own. Your jaw dropped, mouth opening and closing, but no words came from your lips.

So Sebastian took it upon himself to take the answer he wanted from them.

Softly, gently, much more precise than you imagined given the five beers in him, his lips met yours, kissing you, testing the waters. But your body responded. Heart thudding in your ears, your lips molded to his as your eyes fluttered shut. The angle was awkward, uncomfortable, but with everything swimming in your head, as his kiss made you drunker than you already were, it didn’t matter. His lips tasted like beer mixed with the hard apple cider on your own, but he pulled away too soon for you to fully enjoy the combination.

“Why couldn’t they make you my love interest?” He groaned quietly, which made you grin, slightly dizzy as you turned over and laid on your back to get a better look at him. And better reach.

Your hands slid up to either side of his neck, still in wonder how this was happening, that it was happening at all, but you weren’t about to stop it, realizing that the pull to him you’d felt since seeing him the first time during the script readthrough wasn’t just your imagination. He took the gesture as encouragement, adjusting to his side, slinging one arm over you, and leaning down closer to your lips once more.

“I don’t want Bucky as my character’s love interest. This is better because then I get you. No character restraints. Just pure, unadulterated—”

His lips interrupted, unable to help himself, knowing where you were going, knowing you were right. He wanted you. Not your character. Not the fake person created in some office with a bunch of screenwriters sitting around behind their computers. You.

And you wanted him. More and more with each passing second.

His hands found the curves of your waist and sculpted to them, gripping in the slightest, as your own worked their way into his hair. Both of your lips were hungry for the other’s, the kisses getting more and more desperate, heated, the precision from the first dying away as lust replaced tentativeness. Sebastian’s tongue brushed your lower lip, and there was no hesitation when you parted your lips to invite him in, eagerly meeting him with your own tongue. Your heartbeat raced, and you could feel your face beginning to flush with heat as the intensity grew, but you didn’t want it to end, you wanted more. You grasped at his hair, tugging ever so slightly, arching your back to press into him as he shifted more on top of you, nudging a knee between your legs. And as soon as that space was widened you could feel the heat pooling into your stomach, down into—

“Oh my god,” Chris’s voice broke the moment, finally having realized that the sounds of people making out were no longer coming from the television screen but from the two buzzed idiots behind him that were close to ripping each other’s clothes off right then and there.

The two of you broke apart, and with reddened faces, you stared at Sebastian, frozen, as he looked up to meet the eyes of your other co-star, who was now scrambling to his feet, blinking in surprise at what he had somehow managed to witness while being in the same room.

“Um.” Sebastian cleared his throat, quickly glancing down at you, trying not to chuckle, but Chris beat him before he could actually say anything.

“Don’t, uh,” He ran his hand through his hair before holding out, almost in defense, “I’ll go. You guys clearly need these last few hours of freedom before call time to yourselves,” He said, cracking a, albeit, somewhat nervous, smile before moving to the door.

“Thank you!” Sebastian called after him, which completely broke you down, laughing as the door clicked shut, and the two of you were finally alone. His lips erupted into a brilliant, cunning smirk as his attention returned to you once more, and he lifted a hand to brush some messy hair out of your face. “Not sure how you feel about cliches, but where were we?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and tugged him close enough to where your lips were just barely touching. “I’ll show you.”

Collectively, there was maybe an hour of sleep between you and Sebastian. It had been a long night. And not for the bad reasons.

Begrudgingly, you opened your eyes to the sunlight beginning to peek in through the blinds, your vision blurry as you struggled to focus on the red numbers blaring on the alarm clock. 5:03. You rolled back onto your back, rubbing your eyes, as the sheets threatening to slip beneath your bare chest. The body beside you stirred, a cool hand sneaking up over your stomach and resting there, sending a chill through your body, and yet another when his warm breath fanned across your neck (where, inevitably, there were some questionable bruises that you hoped you wouldn’t have to explain to the makeup crew).

“Mmm, morning, darlin’,” Sebastian murmured with a gentle press of his lips to your skin.

You breathed out a tired laugh that quickly turned into a yawn, one hand seeking his and resting over it on your stomach. “Mm.” Your eyes closed once more, soaking in the moment. “Morning.”

“Last night was…”

“Shh.” You cut him off, turning in his grasp and pressing your bare body to his own, now very familiar one. “You don’t have to say that. There will be more.”

You felt him chuckle as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. “Good. Though next time, I promise to take you out on a proper date.” His lips brushed the top of your forehead. “Even if all we have time for is some room service at three in the morning.”

Another laugh tumbled past your lips, curling more into him. “Sounds like a plan.”

Before the two of you could settle back into each other, the phones on either side of the bed buzzed on their respective nightstands. Groaning, you pulled apart and individually read the message from Chris in the group text.

Is it safe to bring you guys breakfast before call time?

You met Sebastian’s eyes and tried to force down the blush rising in your cheeks without much success. Meanwhile, he could only smirk.

“What should we tell him?” Sebastian grinned, leaning over to press his lips to your cheek before looking back at his phone.

You shook your head and set your phone aside, attention returning to the naked man in your hotel bed. You weren’t ready to go to work. Not yet. Not without…

His attention was on the screen, but you could tell he was watching you from the corner of his eye, especially when you inched closer to him, lips pressing to his shoulder, then to his neck before you whispered. “Tell him we’ll see him there.”

Sebastian’s phone would have hit the wall had he tossed it aside any faster.

[poorcap]

guess who’s actually writing

and not being a fucking disappointment for once

lol new fic coming tonight

[poorcap]

I'm sorry

I'm a terrible human being and I'll try to start doing some prompts soon

[poorcap]

REQUESTS

I have one request but I’m in the mood for some fluff. Send in some stuff to help me delay studying for exams!

[rocket-sith]

Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories, itemized number lists be damned.

[poorcap]

REQUESTS!

I might regret this when I come back from spring break to a bunch of end of term shit...

BUT REQUESTS ARE NOW OPEN!