oh no love, you're not alone || Christopher Smith/Peacemaker x Reader
synopsis: Eagly chases a kitten into a tree and tries to eat it. Chris helps you rescue it.
word count: 2.3k
tags: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff tbh, humor, brief mention of sex/mature themes (Chris is horny), metahuman!reader, unresolved tension
Part of a slice of life series where all part can be read independently:
1 · 2
“You don’t mind if I put on some music, right?” Chris calls out to you from the living-room.
You turn off the vacuum. Your ears are ringing.
“What?” you yell back.
His head pops inside the room. He’s holding a vinyl, and he’s smiling, which is saying a lot, these days. When you arrived at his place for your weekly cleaning, you never knew what you were going to find — goofy and lighthearted, or gloomy and depressed. He was doing his best to hide it, but the death of a parent wasn’t the kind of thing he could just shake off. You stay around him long enough to spot the signs when he thinks you’re not looking.
It doesn’t help that you, personally, are fucking delighted that Auggie was gone. Not that you’ve said that to Chris in quite those terms, of course, but… that doesn’t make you the most adept when it comes to providing comfort.
Not that that’s your relationship with him, anyway. You work for him, if only until the contract ran out. There is a kind of companionship between you, sure, but you’re not going to read into it. Even if you think it’s hot that he works out in the house while you’re there, and that he’s nice to you, and that he makes you laugh. Those are completely normal things.
Also, there is the little, tiny, insignificant possibility that he’d kill you on the spot if he found out you’re a metahuman, which does, you know, dampen one’s enthusiasm.
“Music?” he repeats. He looks really excited, and you can’t help but smile back.
“Sure, go ahead,” you say. “I won’t be hearing much from here.”
He looks around then shrugs. Man, his shoulders are so wide.
You wish you didn’t find that so hot.
“Looks good enough for me, and if I’m going to be playing some Bowie, we have to be able to hear Bowie.”
You’re not getting paid to listen to music, you want to say, but you bite your tongue. Your time here is strictly transactional, you know that, and yet you don’t want to shatter the illusion by actually voicing that out loud. You can let yourself be swept up in it, can’t you?
“See, the thing about that album,” he says, placing it with great precaution on his turntable, “is that you have to listen to the whole thing, ‘cause it’s a concept album, right?”
You hum in reply, and you feel your lips stretch into a smile as you watch him. It’s kind of adorable how excited he’s getting. There’s a lot of performance with Chris — the whole ‘muscles’ thing is part of that, for sure — but there is a lot that is just… so direct and genuine, too. You think he lets himself be more natural around you, because there are no real consequences.
He doesn’t need to impress you. You’re no one.
“You can’t just skip to Rock’n’Roll Suicide because that’s what you want to hear,” he continues, “you gotta listen to the whole thing, right? And if you did that, you’d miss out on… Well, on Five Years, which is a great fucking opening track, on Starman, on Lady Stardust, and on fucking Suffragette City, and that’d just be fucking sexist.”
You’re… not sure about that last one, but you’ll let him have it.
He sighs in content when he hears the first drum, and you watch as that big, muscular man closes his eyes starts to swing in place, letting the music envelop you both. There is not a hint of mockery in your smile.
“I’ll move to the kitchen if you’re happy with the state of the room,” you tell him, and he nods. A second later, while you’re fetching the mop, you hear him start to sing along.
“Pushing through the market square…”
Even with Bowie in the background, it’s hard for you not to go on autopilot while you work. You’ve been doing this for such a long time, and you’ve perfected the art of fully disassociating so you can pretend that your body doesn’t ache after hours of manual labor.
You’re not getting any younger, that’s for sure.
This time, though, a little bit of the outside world manages to keep passing through. The music. The pain in your lower back. How you barely feel the mop in your hands because of all the calluses. Chris’s voice. The weak calls for help coming from the garden. The…
Wait a second. What?
You go still, trying to understand what it is you’re hearing. It takes you a second to figure it out, but the moment you do, you feel your blood run cold.
“Shit!” you swear under your breath, dropping the mop and hitting the best sprint you’ve got in yourself towards the back of the house.
Chris’s eyes snap open when he feels the movement, just in time to see the back of your head disappear through the backdoor. Well, Peacemaker is a man of action, even if there hasn’t been much need for him around Evergreen lately. He snatches a gun he keeps under the coffee table, then runs out after you.
You haven’t gone far, it turns out. You’re standing in the garden, yelling at a tree. Which is fucking weird.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
You almost jump out of your skin. When you turn to look at him, he’s like a different man, all business. Like his soft edges have all been replaced by hard ones.
For the first time, you catch a glimpse of Peacemaker, not just Christopher Smith.
“Eagly’s chased a kitten into the tree,” you answer. “Now he’s trying to eat it.”
Chris’s shoulders relax, and he stuffs the gun in the back of his pants. Indeed, Eagly’s screeching at the tree, but he hasn’t quite managed to make it through the branches. It will happen any moment now, though.
“Well, yeah, that guy’s a hunter,” Chris says, pride making his chest swell. “No one’s safe with him around. He’d make a super good killer, too, by the way, but I’m not gonna make him. He’s a free eagle.”
The glare you give him catch him off guard.
“We need to help the kitten,” you say. You sound unusually pissed.
“I mean, that’s just nature running its course, baby,” he tells you, which you would have liked a lot more if you weren’t worried for the cat. “Eagly’s a predator, what are you gonna do about it?”
“I don’t care about what’s nature. Incest is in nature, that doesn’t mean I go around fucking my sister, does it?”
Chris frowns. First of all, you having a sister is news to him, and second, he’s… really not sure where you’re going with this.
“Nature is people and animals dying alone and uncared for,” you say. “Fuck that. I’m helping the kitten. Eagly! Get down!”
Chris looks at you, trying and failing to get his pet’s attention, and, even if he doesn’t know about that whole shtick on nature you gave him, he resolves to help. He doesn’t give a shit about the kitten, but he does care about you.
“Eagly, c’mon, man!” he shouts out, waving at the bird. “It’s not cool! Get back here!”
Of course, it’s not until he offers his pet a substitution meal that he manages to get Eagly’s interest away from the tree. He has to lure him into the house to make sure he won’t intervene again, and the eagle screeches loudly at the betrayal when he locks him inside.
“Sorry, man,” Chris says. “I’d let you eat it, but that’s not gonna be possible today.”
When he gets back to you, you’re meowing towards the tree. It’s kinda weird, but mostly, it’s really fucking impressive, because you’re doing an incredible job at it. The kitten’s meowing back at you, and honestly, it almost sounds like a conversation.
“That’s really good,” he tells you as he reaches you.
Again, you jump, then turn towards him with a sheepish smile.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” you say, “I have a real talent for imitating animals.”
“Please, I want to get back to my mama,” the kitty meows pitifully, and even if it makes you look insane, you turn around to face her right away.
“I’m coming to get you, okay? I’ll do everything I can to get you back to your mama, I promise.”
You’re practiced with cat-speak, because you have three at home. Now, the time you found a wild hog in your backyard, it had been a whole different affair getting yourself understood, but that’s a rare occurrence, fortunately.
“Man, it’s almost like you’re speaking to him!” Chris marvels, none the wiser.
You don’t correct him, because it would make no sense at the moment for you to know that the kitty’s a her.
“Do you think you could give me a boost?” you ask him. You’re fidgeting with worry, and the kitty’s desperate pleas are not helping.
“Can’t cats just jump down from shit? That Wild Cat dude says he can jump from any height and—”
“Chris, she’s really small and really scared,” you interrupt him, urgency drumming in your voice. “Can you please give me a lift?”
He scoffs and shrugs a shoulder.
“Hey, I can lift anything, okay? I can lift you easy-peasy. Just turn around and spread your legs.”
You blink.
“What?”
“I’m not gonna do anything weird,” he sighs, “I’m just gonna put my head between your legs and get you on my shoulders.”
Oh. Ooooh. Well, he should have led with that, because your face feels really, really fucking warm now. You could probably fry an egg on it.
Still, you obey, and try not to think about Chris’s very large hands finding purchase on your thighs, or about his head between your legs. Also, you decide that the humiliating screech you let out when he stands up with ease will never be spoken of again.
In your defense, you’re not exactly a cheerleader — you hadn’t realized he would be able to do it so fast.
“You good?” he asks you, and all you can do is give a little “Hm-hm” in reply. You don’t have anything more in yourself. “Can you reach him?”
“Can you get a little closer to the tree?”
Once he does, you finally see the terrified kitty, huddled up as close to the trunk as possible, where Eagly couldn’t get her.
“Come here, honey,” you call out softly. “Come here.”
The thing about your powers is that you may be able to talk to animals, but you can’t make them obey you. This… might take a while.
“Can you hold on there, Chris? She might take a minute before she trusts me.”
“Of course I can hold on there, who do you take me for? And, hey, by the way, I think Wild Cat’s full of shit anyway. I’m pretty sure he dies every time he falls from a really high height and then he lies about it, and that’s not cool, because it makes us dudes who can’t fall from more than like, 50 feet, look like total bitches. Him and those assholes who can fly are really making it hard for those of us who are normal, you know?” When you don’t reply to him, mostly because you’re busy having a full conversation with the equivalent of a six year old, he adds, “Not that I’m normal. I’m pretty fucking incredible, but I can die, and I think it’s not cool to pretend that you have superpowers when you’re just kind of immortal, right?”
He's fully aware that he’s rambling, but it’s the only thing he can do to stop thinking about your thighs enclosing his head right now. And how he has his hands on both of them. And how hot that is. And how if you were just turned around, that would be a very fun position to eat you out.
“I got her!” you exclaim.
“Thank God,” he mutters under his breath.
He puts you back down, and maybe his hands trail over your thigh and to your waist. Maybe his heart stutters when you look up at him, cradling the cat in your arms, and give him a beaming smile.
“Thank you so much, Chris,” you say.
“It was nothing,” he shrugs, reaching out to scratch the cat under the chin.
She lets him. Considering how nervous she was a minute ago, you must have worked some fucking magic, because now she’s all relaxed and purring — and animals usually don’t like him much.
“No, I mean it. I know you wanted to let Eagly eat her, and it means a lot that you didn’t.”
People don’t usually thank him. There’s typically a lot more yelling and ‘why the fuck would you do that’ and ‘oh my god you blew up his head’ and ‘there is so much blood what the fuck’.
“Any time,” he says. His voice feels a little hoarse.
“Look, I’m pretty sure I know where her mama is, because I’ve seen a stray cat walking around. Would you mind if I…?”
“Sure, go for it,” he says.
You keep looking at him like you want to say something. Finally, you move to press a quick kiss at the corner of his lips.
“Thanks, Chris. I owe you one.”
He’s pretty sure he owes you one, but he doesn’t say anything and watches you leave hurriedly with the kitty in your arms.
In the house, the last notes of It Ain’t Easy are playing. It might be kind of sacrilegious, but he doesn’t think he’ll turn the vinyl over to side B and he might just switch to something else.
What can he say, he doesn’t feel like he’s in the mood for Rock’n’Roll Suicide today.
after torturing chris in the last two fics, here's a little one that's mostly fluff! there is still a little bit of angst sprinkled in there, because it's chris, but i hope you still enjoyed it! also i do know that cats don't mewl to communicate but i feel like a human would still need to do that to communicate with a cat and the cat would respond in kind and any way none of you probably cared ahem. i would love to know if you still feel like he's in character in this, i feel like i'm struggling to bring his over-the-top-ness to domestic situations and i'd love to have your opinions <3 comments of any kind and reblogs are highly appreciated too! thank you all for reading 💕
Aftercare with Chris "Peacemaker" Smith ~ suggestive, tooth rotting fluff
Description: looking after each other after sex, super sweet and very short. my first non smut piece of writing! Word count: 774
Chris’s warm breath cascaded over the side of your neck, goosebumps beginning to rise across your flesh as you tried to get your own breathing under control. Your hands had found solace in his hair, your nails softy scratching across his scalp as a way to sooth both of you in each other’s afterglow. Chris was still nestled within your warmth, his head resting in the crook of your neck. His big arms which had been bracing himself over you had now fallen to cradle your frame as he allowed his brain to try and catch up with his body. His entire body weight beginning to sag into your smaller frame.
“I don’t want to move” Chris murmurs, aiming for your ear but instead speaking into your hair “I would love to say you don’t have to, but your kinda’ crushing me” you softly reply. “Mphhh… fine” there’s an air of disappointment to his voice that causes your smile to widen.
You feel Chris start to slowly pull away, grunting with effort as he perches himself up on his elbows and gazes down at your face. You feel his thumbs start to lovingly rub circles into what ever flesh they can reach from his new position, a smile adorning his face with blush tinted cheeks to match. His eyes holding a sweet sparkle of adoration as he takes his time to look over your frame, they stop briefly at the sight of a hickey that’s beginning to bloom near your jaw line (after you had asked him kindly not to leave a mark). His smile turning damn near sleazy at the sight, a change that you quickly take note “What are you-” “I’m going to go grab a cloth!” Chris says suddenly cutting you off and leaving you gasping as he finally and gently pulls out.
You don’t have enough brain power left to query him on his speedy get away and instead find solace in watching his perfect ass walk away to the ensuite bathroom. You take note of his incredibly sculpted back, how the plains of muscle stretch over his frame and make him such a large (sometimes intimidating) figure.
Chris swans back with a dampened washcloth in hand. Taking large strides to quickly come back into contact with you. You quirk your eyebrow in question when he decides to climb up onto the bed by the foot, still naked he kneels before you. Softly he grabs your ankle and lifts your leg, he places it to rest on his hip. Then slowly he swipes the cool, damp material over your upper thighs, massaging them at the same time. Your hum as you feel your eyelids droop in exhaustion, but you refuse to allow them to close and give in to sleep. Chris leans in and plants soft kisses on the now freshly washed flesh, his kisses continue to trail up to your lower stomach, where he stays as he cleans you up. He’s gentle and cautious as to not cause you any overstimulation or discomfort.
Chris continues to kiss up your body stopping briefly at your chest, causing a soft moan to tumble out of your mouth before he quickly moves up further to kiss you lovingly. His arms encircle you hips and rolls you both over, so you’re now perched on top of him.
You plant you hands on his chest and raise your upper body up enough to start planting kisses over his face in a flurry of quick pecks that cause him to giggle endearingly. Whilst you’re distracted a hand that had been firmly planted on you hip had slid down to instead grasp a butt cheek cheekily. You smile into the kisses you trail down his neck taking the opportunity to leave a hickey at the crux between his shoulder and neck, knowing he’ll take pride in the mark when he goes to the 11th street kids lunch/mission debrief tomorrow. After your satisfied in the reddening mark you made, you start to drag your teeth down over his collar bone.
Exhaustion weighs heavy in your muscles as you leave you last peck above his heart. “I love you” he mumbles tiredly before you could, his eyes closed but a smile still stretched over his lips. “I love you to” you whisper gently into his ear, kissing the lobe before you plant a soft kiss on his lips. He immediately reciprocates and kisses you back just as softly, pulling away gently he guides your head to rest on his peck. You listen to his rhythmic heartbeat as sleep pulls both of you into the comfort of slumber.
authors notes: massive thank you for reading my work! if you liked this one please consider checking out my other chris smith fic cry baby or check out my masterlist for more of my work!
