Author: @musette22
Date: 27 Oct 2024
Chapters: 1/1 (15425 words)
Fandom: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan
Characters: Chris Evans (Actor), Sebastian Stan
Additional Tags: Evanstan - Freeform, Getting Together, Coming Out, First Kiss, First Time, Practice Kissing, Sort Of, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, gratuitous gay cold war storyline which probably makes no sense
Summary:
Sebastian Stan wants to do a Broadway play with Chris Evans. He really, really wants to do a Broadway play with Chris Evans, preferably Speed-the-Plow.
Chris also wants to do a Broadway play with Sebastian, but not Speed-the-Plow. His counterproposal acts as a catalyst for some long-overdue revelations (and quite a lot of great sex, too).
Bookmarker's Notes:
Ahhh the characters and the very real and physical way they behave and Sebastian's inner voice, and the dialog! And the sex of course, hot and marvelous!
Character Bleed
Noun
/ˈkerəktər/ • /blēd/
When emotions related to a fictional character begins to seep into the actors/players own sense and mindset (or vise versa where the actor becomes the character).
Sebastian is looking for a new angle to approach James "Bucky" Barnes with. Why not look to the fans that endlessly support and uplift the character and himself? ...Well, maybe because it won't do a damn thing to help his already simmering crush on his co-star and instead make it worse by showing him all the gorgeous, admirable traits of said co-star's character. Dammit.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
For anyone who might be interested, here is a list of my fanfics on AO3.
Formula 1
Celebrations (WIP): Lando Norris/Daniel Ricciardo, PG-13. 8,651 words. Starting after the British GP 2023, Lando & Daniel celebrate Lando's successes.
Sunset In Melbourne: Lando Norris/Daniel Ricciardo, PG-13. 2,626 words. Set after the Australian GP qualifying session.
Quirks: Lando Norris/George Russell, Explicit. 1,941. Date night, when George discovers something he didn't know about Lando.
What He Needs: Daniel Ricciardo/Lando Norris, Explicit, 12,631 words. Set during 2022 F1 season.
Our Love Language: Daniel Ricciardo/Lando Norris, Explicit, 1,811 words. Post Mexico GP 2023. A little bit of fun.
One Door Closes: Daniel Ricciardo/Lando Norris, Explicit, 1,596 words. Brazil GP 2023 weekend. Just smut, no plot.
It Took Neon Lights For Me To See: Daniel Ricciardo/Lando Norris, PG-13, 3,215 words. Set during/after Las Vegas GP 2023. Hurt/comfort and some good old fashioned fluff.
Just Another Facet: Lando Norris/Daniel Ricciardo, Explicit, 1.2k. Pure smut and kink.
Falling Into Place: Lando Norris/Daniel Ricciardo, PG-13, 2.8k. A slightly different take on the infamous Perth farm trip. Yet another getting together story.
Good Things Come To Those Who Wait: Lando Norris/Daniel Ricciardo, PG-13, 1.4k. Tooth-rotting fluff set post-Miami 2024 GP.
This Delicate Thing We Have: Lando Norris/Daniel Ricciardo, G, 500 words. Just a fluffy little snippet, post-Australia 2023 GP.
Family: Lewis Hamilton/Peter Bonnington, PG-13, 541. A little snippet of a moment on holiday between these two.
Little Things: Lewis Hamilton/Peter Bonnington, PG-13, 449. Another little snippet between these two, set during the Las Vegas GP 2024.
No More Missing You: Lando Norris/Daniel Ricciardo, Explicit, 3.6k. Dando reunion after Daniel's F1 departure.
Together At Christmas: Lewis Hamilton/Peter Bonnington, PG-13, 1.3k. The aftermath of hosting their first Christmas with Lewis' familly.
Evolution: Lewis Hamilton/Peter Bonnington, Explicit, 10k. Lewis reaches his final race with Mercedes, but he isn't ready to leave Bono yet.
Northern Lights: Lewis Hamilton/Valtteri Bottas, PG-13, 4.1k. George and Zhou try to set up their teammates when George thinks they might want to be more than friends.
Delays Of One Sort Or Another: Lewis Hamilton/Peter Bonnington, PG-13. 3.3k. Lewis and Bono end up sharing a hotel room after their flights are cancelled.
On The Horizon: Nico Hulkenberg/Gabriel Bortoleto, PG-13, 1.8k. Nico and Gabi are making their way back from a race weekend via private jet. Very fluffy.
9-1-1
The Road To El Paso: Buck/Eddie, PG-13. 9,604 words. Eddie & Christopher take a trip to visit Eddie's parents, with Buck along for company.
Never Stop: Buck/Eddie, Buck/Taylor mentioned. PG-13. 700 words. Eddie worrying about Buck after (another!) accident.
Shelter: Buck/Eddie, PG-13. 1,123 words. Buck & Eddie share a lazy morning together.
The Unmasked Singer: Buck/Eddie, PG-13. 923 words. A little bit of silliness.
Healthy Competition: crossover fic - Buck/Bucky Barnes, R. 3,923 words. AU where Buck meets Sergeant James Barnes.
Out Of The Shadows: Buck/Eddie, PG-13. 3,776 words. Post kidnapping (S9x13), Buck discovers he is to attend the trial.
Marvel Cinematic Universe
5 Times Sam Didn't Ask Anything Of Bucky And Once He Did: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes, G. 985 words. Bit of fluff, bit of falling in love, bit of always being there for each other.
You're A Civilian Now: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes, R. 1,431 words. Bucky has a hard time letting go of some things.
Home: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes, PG-13. 1,925 words. Established relationship, Bucky visits Sam in Louisiana.
Not Quite There Yet: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes, G. 280 words. Domestic fluff.
Past and Present: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes, PG-13. 471 words. Angst. Character death.
Marvel Cinematic Universe - RPF
The Calm Within The Storm: Anthony Mackie/Sebastian Stan, PG-13. 1,278 words. Anthony knows Sebastian better than anyone.
You Should Probably Leave / What Happens When You Don't Leave / Glad You Never Leave: Anthony Mackie/Sebastian Stan, R. +8,000 words total. Getting together.
Bolts of pleasure 🔥 One-Shot - You’ve been stood up, on valentine’s Day of all days. At least you won’t be spending the night alone, now Thor finally has you to himself.
Only One Rule 🔥 One-Shot - You and your best guy friend are single and decide to have an Anti-Valentines day night together watching horror movies, there’s only one rule - NO mention of ANYTHING romantic. You get scared and one things leads to another…
A Push Too Far 🔥 One-Shot Request - Thor's had a tough day and nothing you do is helping until you let him take out his frustration on you and become his little slut.
Blushing Bride 🔥 One Shot Request - You're nervous about your first time with Thor but your wedding night feels like the perfect time.
Immortal 🔥 Ongoing Series Request - Aria had to avoid the God of Thunder at all costs, she couldn't risk his questioning. Questions that even she didn't know the answer to, at least not yet.
Alternate Reality- 🔥 One-shot- Thor and Chris Hemsworth alternate reality Man-sandwich Threesome. All your dreams are about to come true when you finally have Chris and Thor in the same room together.
Summary: “It’s a simple case of not enough versus taking what you can get. Sometimes she sees him for a day or two, then not again for almost half a year.” Relationships are hard. When one person is a world-wide superstar and both people are idiots, they get that much harder. They both take what they can get, but eventually that may not be enough.
Warnings: Two large dollops of smut, a half-cup of angst divided, several pinches of language, dash of loneliness, and a good sprinkle of lack of communication. Fold ingredients together gently, bake at 200c fan for 20 minutes, then serve piping hot from the oven.
18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED
Author’s Note: So many, many thanks to @glassjacket and @thoughtslikeaminefield for endless cheers and edits and more cheers. I love you both. Thank you to @there-must-be-a-lock for the lovely image (and all the many wonderful choices you gave me to pick from). Please excuse my slang terms if I got them wrong. I did a lot of internet research but was too self-conscious to ask an actual British person for advice.
Word Count: Ch 1 - 543
In case you missed it:
ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist
...
Every Now and Then
Ch 1
“I’m in town.”
“I’m home.”
“I’ll be there by midnight.”
…
It’s a simple case of not enough versus taking what you can get. Sometimes she sees him for a day or two, then not again for almost half a year. Sometimes she gets a couple of weeks, and once she gets him for two and a half glorious months. Almost never in public, and rarely at his place, but she gets him all the same.
They are careful; they share no interests outside each other and their discreet domestic situation, so there’s not much potential for awkward chance encounters. He loves tennis, he loves to run, and he loves Shakespeare.
She does not.
“But, darling,” he says, appealing to the ticklish spot below her left ear, “you love Shakespeare, how can you claim he’s dull? You positively melt when I give you a verse or two.”
She pulls his head away with both hands tangled deep in his hair, staring him down silently with the face she reserves for special idiots. It takes him a full thirty seconds to overcome his surprise at her removal of his tongue from her skin and finally ask what he’s said wrong.
“You numpty,” she sighs fondly. “You could be reading from a sodding cookbook, and I would spontaneously liquefy.”
“Oh.”
Then she gets the joy of watching his moment of dawning realization, and he giggles. She can’t think of any other way to describe it. It could be a chuckle, but it’s just a little too sweet for that.
“Shall I go find my Best of Julia Child collection, then? There are some rather erotic things said about chocolate in the later chapters.”
…
It’s not that she holds back from seeing other people or that she waits for him. It’s more like she has an extra sense and is somehow almost always free when he’s able to be around for a bit. They both know there isn’t a future for them, not in the traditional sense. She’s pretty sure his intensity would be overwhelming if he’s around for too long, and his melancholy can run deep. His job is absurdly demanding on him, and she is a good refuge from the insanity of it all.
“You can feel free to blow off steam anytime.”
He regards her silently, his eyebrows drawn together, his lips thin and displeased. He’s missed her point, she can see, but she waits and gives him time to respond.
“You are more than a stress reliever, you know that. I don’t...You are so much...You do see you’re worth more than that, not just to me, but-”
But she can’t let him suffer for too long.
“Love, I’m easily worth ten of the next woman. Of course I know that! And you’re extra enthusiastic when you’re stressed, did you know? In your case, tension is an excellent motivator. Now, pay attention to the innuendo and get to work blowing off that steam.”
Though she fully understands that a character and the actor who portrays them are different people, she will also readily and vociferously admit that his Loki smile does something extra special to all those anatomical bits one doesn’t mention in polite company or in front of children.
...
Hello everyone, Welcome to the dumpster fire that is my Multifandom trashblog.
My requests are always open, unless I’ve stated otherwise above, in which case I’m either saturated with requests, or I currently don’t have time to write.
Now, for the rules:
This might change at some point, but I am currently not writing smut.
I try my best to tag any trigger warnings both at the top of my stories and in the tags. I do NOT write dub-con or non-con.
I write for:
Sherlock (BBC Sherlock),
Din Djarin (The Mandalorian),
Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff, Peter Parker, Tony Stark (only daughter!reader), Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Carol Danvers (MCU),
Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Brie Larson, Tom Holland (MCU RPF),
Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor (Arrowverse),
Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger (Harry Potter),
Legolas, Aragorn, Thorin (LOTR/Hobbit)
Dean Winchester (Supernatural),
and SPN RPF for Jensen, Daneel, Jenneel, and Alex.
This might expand to include Star Wars, Game of Thrones, and other MCU and Harry Potter characters at some point.
Next to the usual x reader, I am willing to write platonic!readers, daughter!readers, sister!readers etc. depending slightly on the character.
If there is a character that is not on the list above, feel free to send me a DM, as I may well have forgotten someone. I try to keep the list as updated as I can, but sometimes I might not be feeling a character and might choose not to write for them. I will usually only open up requests for certain characters/fandoms, which I will announce at the top of this post.
The best way to send me requests is through my asks, feel free to be as vague or specific as you want. If you want x Genderneutral!reader, please don’t hesitate to ask. if you want me to write something based on a prompt, please add it to the ask, or if you can’t, you can send it to me in a DM after you’ve sent the request.
Finally, please be patient with requests. I love to get them, but I can get very busy, so there might be times when I am less active or not writing. I also reserve the right to choose not to write any request that I don’t want to, without providing justification if I don’t want to. This will likely not be an issue, but I want to clarify this now in case it ever becomes one.
If you’re not sure about whether your request follows these guidelines, feel free to send it to me and ask, and I’ll let you know. Bottom line is just be nice ☺️.
Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3k
Summary: Reader works as a costume designer in Marvel. She's currently working on Endgame, designing the costumes for each superhero (but especially her favorite one), when Chris stops by. Later, he tries it on. Mutal pining goodness and fluff all throughout :)
Warnings: None :)
A/N: It’s been a while. I’ve written for chris once only, and I already miss it. Here’s some fluff.
Earphones plugged in deep in her ears, blocking every other sound apart from her music. The side of her hand is dirty with pencil lead, leaving occasional smudges on the paper that she forgets to erase. It’s- there’s a lingering fatigue she can’t really shake off. She’s beyond exhausted, working so late in the night, still in her office, but doing this, right here, it feels so damn good. It doesn’t matter that she should be heading home, because all her repressed creativity is bleeding in the paper, flowing as if it’s pouring out of her veins . Finally, finally , doing the thing she’s great at, the thing she loves.
Her music is deep, dark, has a strong but slow beat to it, and she bobs her head along, uncaring of the strands of hair that are furiously escaping her ponytail. She gets lost in the design, vigorously making swooping lines and hard edges, scribbling to her heart’s content, erasing a line and coming back in. The tedious process of adding details makes her settle just a little.
These past few years have been incredible. Working for Marvel was a dream she didn’t even know she’d had, the opportunity of a lifetime, truly. During the time spent working with all these amazing people, she’s learned, she’s grown, she’d developed as an artist and as a person. She can say nothing less than she’s happy, truly happy here. She means, designing and creating costumes for this franchise has been a job she couldn’t have even dreamt of. It may get tiresome, sometimes boring and tedious, but right now, designing… she feels like she’s been born to do this and just this.
It’s been a while since she’d gotten so lost in a design. It may be the fact that this particular one, and the actor that’s supposed to wear it, is her favorite. She may be biased. But she’d had amazing ideas and she was so eager to just make them come to life.
She’s coloring the last of the star in the center of the chest, when fingers tap her shoulder. Having been so lost in her work and music, she feels like someone poured a bucket of water over her without warning, and she jumps, pulling her earbuds out by their wire and swiveling her chair to look at the intruder.
Chris smiles down at her, all teeth and soft eyes. His hands are in the air flamboyantly, It’s me!, dark grey, long sleeved Henley loose on his biceps, and dark wash jeans hugging his thighs tightly. His hair is grown longer, tucked behind his ears, his beard is… new , and very nicely trimmed. Her heart thumps a little louder at the sight of him. If anyone were to ask, she’d blame the jumpscare, but she knows better.
“Chris!” Excitedly getting off her seat and throwing her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. His own wrap around her tightly, squeeze her to him, if only for a second, and she exhales.
“Hey!” He tells her, just as excitedly, and she pulls back. “I’m sorry I scared you, I knocked and there was no answer.” She waves a hand to show him it’s okay and plops back on her seat unceremoniously.
“What are you even doing here?! I thought the cast was gonna show up next week, for the fittings?” A strand tucked behind her ear and she’s suddenly kind of self-conscious of her disheveled state. Chris leans his hip on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest casually, looking like one of those bad boys in 2000’s coming-of-age rom-coms. She tries not to stare, but it’s a struggle, and a funny thought crosses her mind. If she were looking at him for the first time, he’d be screaming trouble. He still does, but less because he’s scary and a heartbreaker, and more because she’s hopeless when it comes to being functional around him.
“I had some business up here in New York, and the Russo’s asked me to drop by. Something about paperwork.” He shrugs lightly and she ‘ah’s, accompanied by a nod and a brief eyebrow twitch to show her understanding.
“Well, I’m happy you dropped by. It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it,” she smiles at him, and Chris nods, a bit of an apologetic, regretful almost, look in his eye.
“So,” he says and shifts his weight a little, “whatcha working on?”
“You, actually.” Lead-stained fingers pull the sketchbook under the light a little better, closer to him, and he gets off his hip, places his left hand on the back of her chair, leaning all his weight on his right, on the desk. His chest is suddenly so close to her face, her shoulder brushes his torso and she’s holding her breath , because he smells so good –cologne and aftershave?- she might fucking faint . She can feel her face heat up. She wonders if he’s doing it on purpose, if he knows at all. She watches his expression.
“Waddaya got?” It’s all interest in his voice, and he doesn’t seem to intend to move. Damn.
“Well,” she takes a shaky breath, “I figured, y’know-“ a mindless shrug, and his shirt is exceptionally soft and fairly thin, two layers between their bare skin, and- oh gosh, she's supposed to be explaining things. Focus! “Cap needs a new suit, and he’s a fugitive now, right? He doesn’t really care to get a new one tailored.” Chris exhales a chopped, amused breath and nods sideways, as if saying You have a point there . “So the old one would have to do.
“But it’s different now, because he can’t have the same exact one, completely untouched, and he’s a different man now anyways.” Scooting the chair closer to the desk on instinct- and fucking great , now she’s literally pressing into the bottom of his ribcage lightly with her shoulder. It’s getting harder to breathe. She can feel his exhales on her face, Jesus. “So basically,” a steadying, shaky breath, “I made it dirtier- that’s why the colors are darker. It’s supposed to be aging fabric. But it’s also more comfortable for you.
“The sleeves will end right here-” without giving it much thought, she traces a line under his right elbow, the one on which he’s leaning, and he follows the motion with his gaze intently, “and you’ll wear some fingerless gloves with buckles on them.” He nods, eyes still not off her design, occasionally flicking to glance at her. “But,” she begins.
“The detail I’m most excited for is this,” a tap on the star in the middle of the uniform- or rather lack thereof. The space where the plastic white thing once resided is now dark blue like the rest of the uniform. She grins up at him when his features twitch in interest. “I pitched this to Joe and he really loved it. Basically, my logic is that, as we said, Cap’s a fugitive, yeah?” Chris nods, attentive as ever. “He’s gone against every government official he knows, against a big chunk of his own team. The news have probably said awful things about him and painted him as a superhero gone rogue or something. So what does he do? He rips off the star.
“He no longer fits the Captain America title, in the sense that he doesn’t want to be associated with the government’s lap dog, their dancing monkey. Instead of faithfully following orders as a soldier, he’s his own self, still a Captain, but on his own terms. It’s symbolic! He’s carving his own path, leading like he was always meant to, and he’s dramatic enough to have done this- ripped off the star I mean. The suit should feel more familiar to him now.”
She’s been rambling for a while, her mouth is drier, but she was so excited when the idea manifested in her head. A big sense of pride washed over her, she couldn’t wait to design and implement it in the costume.
And Chris, well… Chris is looking at her with this small little smile that grows the more he considers it. “I…” he shakes his head, a grin stretching his pretty lips, “I fucking love it,” he tells her, with so much genuine warmth in his tone. She’s never heard him this confident and proud , like a parent almost, glowing at her like she’s something brighter than a star. “That’s brilliant , Y/n, holy shit ! The fans will go nuts!” He leans close to inspect the design again with the new parameters in mind, shaking his hand as if disbelieving, smile remaining on his face. “You’re amazing .”
A hot, red blush spreads across her cheeks fiercely, and there’s a lingering urge to sit up straighter, to square her shoulders in pride and happiness, because she’s so happy he liked it¸ but she is now acutely aware of how close he is, still not having moved away from her since she pressed into him accidentally. She resorts to a one shouldered shrug. “Thank you,” her voice is meeker than she’d like it, but Chris doesn’t mention it. Instead, they share a smile.
=
“Ready?”
“I’m, unf, gimme a sec- I’m coming.” Some shuffling, and then the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and she puts her phone away, swiveling in her chair and- oh Christ.
“Chris… ” she says, eyes racking from the tops of his shoes, up his legs, his thighs, his belt. The way the comfortable material stretches over his fit stomach, up his curved chest, and extends up to the base of his neck- it’s, fuck, he looks so good. His veiny forearms are exposed to the warm lamp light in the room, and he’s not wearing the gloves, seeing as they’re sitting on her desk.
The dark blue of his suit makes his newly dyed hair look golden .
“How do I look?” He says with a grin, striking an exuberant pose just to make her smile, and she grins.
“I’ll give you like,” she pretends to think for a second, “a six out of ten.” A shrug and a bitten back smile, and his hand goes to his chest dramatically, thick eyebrows furrowing and blowing out a breath.
“Damn,” he tells her with a look in his eyes that she can’t really place, something teasing, but like they're sharing an inside joke of some kind. “Harsh critic,” it’s teasing and happy, and she chuckles, because yeah. This is quite perfect. She grabs his gloves off her desk and gets off her chair, going up to him and holding them for him to squeeze his hands in. She tightens some buckles, smooths a hand over the leathery material, making non-existent creases disappear.
A step back, she inspects the way the material hugs his thighs so nicely, but is also still baggy, to give him some freedom of movement. His boots are almost knee high, and- it actually looks like it might be a bit tight in the neck. She steps closer to him, barely tests the two buckles in front of his shoulders, checking that there’s give for him to move in. “It’s good? Comfortable, I mean?” A finger dragged between the collar of his top and his neck, purely professionally she swears, it was a subconscious move to check how much space there is for him to breathe and move his neck. And that’s the moment stupid Chris chooses to hum and she feels it in the exhale hitting her face, the vibration of his throat.
God .
Her lips purse and she squints a little, pulling back her hand. I can make this better , she decides. “Don’t move,” she orders and heads to her desk, grabbing some needle and a thread that matches the color of his suit, along with a small blade. She walks back up to him again and, with a careful hand on his chest and the threaded needle carefully placed between her lips, she makes a few, strategically placed rips near the star with the blade.
“Don’t stab me,” he says, tone low for a reason she can’t understand but makes a shiver run through her.
“Don’t give me ideas,” she counters, and Chris’s stomach shakes a little with a short, contained laugh. Continuing, she distresses the fabric, and patches up the edges so they won’t tear further during filming, allowing a string or two to stick out.
She is absolutely, of course, not ignoring how she can feel every single one of his breaths, and how he’s so good and still, and his hands are only a handful of inches away from her waist, his face hellishly close to hers.
A released exhale and a nod to herself. “Perfect,” she says quietly. She wraps the threaded needle around the handle of the blade so as to not lose it and throws it back on her desk haphazardly, to put away later. Unmoving from her spot near him, she gazes at the rips and decides it was a good addition. For just a second, it seems she forgets exactly how close he is, and now she looks up to him for approval, finding that same intent stare, straight into her soul from only three inches away.
There’s a sudden urge to shrink and disintegrate, confidence gone. Clothes she can handle. Chris she really can’t.
Baby blue eyes are watching her, standing perfectly still for her to do her thing, but there’s a, dare she say , affection of sorts in his gaze, and she’s very much struck with it. “You look great, Cap’n,” breathy and quiet, because she can’t fucking sit in silence when he looks at her like that. Chris smiles.
“All thanks to you.” A grin at the praise, at the lowered tone of his voice, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment with loud words. She should step back, b- but she physically cannot. Her muscles are seriously unwilling to move. This is her being weird, right? She’s crossing a line by taking advantage of his proximity, right? Why- He’s not showing any signs of awkwardness or discomfort though.
She’d like to know how one stretches a moment to eternity, a piece of knowledge she'd most certainly use right now. His cologne is the same as last week, when he visited in her office, comforting and musky, and he’s- he’s just looking at her with his beautiful eyes boring into hers, his warmth just centimeters away.
“You’re very close to me,” what a stupid thing to say , she scolds herself, but she just- she doesn’t know what else to do. Is it normal to feel such heat radiate from his body, or is that her mind playing tricks? She wants to curl into him, into said warmth, bury her nose in his neck and nuzzle there. It’s an urge that hits her like a tidal wave, and it almost makes her stagger on her feet. Her heart beats faster, inflated and full, adrenaline coursing through her veins all of a sudden. Chris swallows a little and nods. “What are you gonna do about it?”
There’s almost no charm in his tone, he looks borderline nervous, but there’s still some confidence in his velvety voice for him to flirt with her, the bastard and- she’s not imagining this, right? She’s not dreaming or anything? Chris actually enjoys this proximity, this closeness, he’s not pulling away. He just- he just sort of gave her consent to do something, anything. The ball is in her court, a challenge, proving she actually can do something about this.
With a shaky hand, she presses her palm flat on his chest.
A mental barrier is broken by that touch and Chris seems to curl closer, if possible. His gloved hand goes to her waist, holding her near him, his head dipping lower, and she’s standing on her tiptoes. Noses brushing together, a challenge, emphasized in the teasing curl of his lips, sharing the same air. Beard tickling her top lip as she inches closer. A small hand on his face, and she licks her lips instinctively, parts them a little- and closes the gap between them.
It’s soft and wet and everything she’s ever dreamt of really, and holy shit , she’s dreamt of this. It’s actually happening, right now. He’s in his dumb Captain America uniform, pulling her close so now their chests are pressed together, moving his lips against hers slowly, and his hands are in leather gloves with buckles on them. The thought makes her smile a little, to the point where now the kiss is all teeth, and he pulls back for a second, as if sensing her amusement.
“What?” he asks. Her forehead leans on his chest, a sad attempt to hide her grin. His arms, one wrapping around her waist, his other hand on her back.
“I’m kissing Captain America,” and Chris lets out a single, incredulous breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if to say, you’re unbelievable. She grins up at him, a challenging eyebrow raised. Am I wrong though?
Teeth trap her bottom lip and she worries it for a moment as they quiet again, lost in thought and looking at him absently. She wants to kiss him again. She likes how his hands are warm on her back, how his chest is lean under her. Leaning on her tiptoes again, she smiles softly and brushes her nose on his cheek affectionately, because it’s suddenly okay to do so, the hairs of his beard scratchy against her skin. Chris is not having it though, and he turns his head to capture her lips again.
It feels so good, she thinks, as she instinctively places gentle fingers on his jawline to keep him tilted to her. It’s like the world is blooming. Like her heart is bursting through the seams, chest far too small for it. She kisses him, and he holds her just this much closer.
She’s kissing Captain America. And it’s a damn good fucking kiss.
