Fabinhos Wife And Her Trafffic Cone Husband Can Go

How can Peggy be hateable in all universes? Jesus Christ! Steve and her are two idiots, they don't deserve the reader in their lives. ANYWAYS fuck them, let's go to Norway!

Someone New 1

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Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: please enjoy the first chapter!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“No, no, not the pink, red,” you cup your hand over your ear pod, “exactly what it says on the order sheet.” 

Were anyone to see you, sitting in the dirt, with a brush in hand, all alone, they might think you’re a bit out there. You, talking to the air, dusting off a clump of soil, orchestrating your own voice with the bristles. You dip your head as you focus on what the voice in your ear is saying. 

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you argue, “I put in the order weeks ago. A red bow. I have the receipt– I mean sure, pink or red doesn’t matter to me but it’s not my birthday.” 

“We’ll see what we can do,” the woman relents. It’s not exactly a triumph but as close to as you can hope. If it’s pink, you’ll just have to take the fall. The damn fondant will be devoured by the night’s end anyhow. 

You hang up with a double tap on the ear pod and your playlist resumes. You go back to trying to uncover the shape caked in layers of muck, turning the brush to chip away the rougher bits with the pointed tip. The work is tedious but it has to be. You can’t risk damaging the relic nestled inside. 

The abrupt chiming of your ringtone once more sounds through the bluetooth earpiece. You huff and hit the pod with the heel of your hand. You greet the call with only your name. 

“Are you still on site?” Your boss, Arturo asks. 

“Yep, still here,” you still your hand and twist your arm, pulling back the end of your glove to see your watch, “just a bit longer. You know I have that thing tonight.” 

“Uh, yes, I recall,” he says dully as you hear paper shuffling, “you got time to chat?” 

“Sure,” you keep the cluster of dirt and the brush in one hand and use your other to push yourself to your feet, “I just gotta catalogue this before I finish the day.” 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” he begins as you carefully walk between the cordoned off patches. The whole place is a maze of where and where not to step. You go into the tent and put down the half uncovered idol. It’s brittle, made of hide and yew, with a bit of bone. “Lucia is pregnant.” 

“Oh? That’s great,” you furrow your brow, wondering what that has to do with you. 

“Means she can’t travel for a while. She’s adverse to long term commitments at the moment so…” 

“So…” you trail off as you label the mound of dirt and make notes for the next day. 

“So, you want her assignment?” 

“Which one?” You peel off your gloves and shake off the excess filth. 

“Norway. It can be a bit dingy but the landscape is nice.” 

“Norway? For how long?” You close up the ledger and tuck it away on the shelf. You pass between the tables of artifacts as you pull out your phone. 

“Could be a while but I figured you never get to go very far. You’ve been pent up in-state for so long, you could use the vacation.” 

“Oh? Well, I…” you scroll through your phone and see the notifications. Emails confirming delivery, messages asking if everything is sorted. “I’d have to think about it…” 

It’s evasion more than indecision. You know you don’t want to go. You can’t go. Your whole life is here. You have an apartment and friends and… Steve. Your best friend.  

“Make sure you do think about it. It’s a great opportunity. Especially for a junior anthropologist. Lucia won’t be on leave forever.” 

“I know. I’ll think about it.” 

You hang up and pluck the earbud out. Ugh, you’re covered in dirt and dust. You don’t have time to go home and shower. You knew you wouldn’t. You have to be at the venue before everyone else. You can change there and try to wash up in the sink. Whatever, no one’s going to be looking at you anyway. It’s Peggy’s night. Yay. 

You lock the fence and tug one last time to make sure it’s secure. You drag your boots across the thinning grass to your car parked on a stretch of gravel. You drop inside and hit start. You connect to the bluetooth and get some tunes going. You buckle your seat belt as you check the mirrors. You’re probably going to have to speed there. 

You back out as the music blares from the speakers. It’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Why did you agree to this? Peggy doesn’t even like you. Oh, but she likes Steve. She is his girlfriend and you are only his best friend. You’re supportive. You keep your mouth shut and smile. 

Ugh. You squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. You know why you offered to help plan the surprise. You’re pathetic but you’re not delusional. It meant you got more time with him. There hasn’t been much of that since Peggy came along, not just the two of you. 

Classic, isn’t it? In love with your best friend. Friends since college. Friends forever, you vowed naively, thinking that forever would never come. Nothing lasts that long, you can only hope to outlast Peggy. 

And if you don’t, maybe this crush will finally run its course. 

💟

Red and white streamers decorate a long table set with trays. There’s a banner over it that reads ‘Happy Birthday, Peggy’, and a stack of gifts already forming in the corner. Guests drift in with anticipation as you hurry around to check off all the items on your list. 

You fix a small vase of flowers, trying to hide the droopy one in the back, and tug a wrinkle out of a tablecloth. You smile and wave at those who are early as you weave between them. You pull out your phone and lean it on the clipboard angle in the crook of your elbow. They’re on their way, okay. Keep it cool. 

As you come to the kitchen door, you nearly collide with someone else. Sam touches your arm gently as he keeps you from tripping backward. You gasp and hug the clipboard with a wobbly grin. 

“Hey,” you greet breathily, “you’re here.” 

You look down at the guest list and check him off. 

“Ah, figured I’d make an appearance,” he kids, “Rogers would take it pretty rough if his best pal wasn’t here.” 

“Please, don’t start that with Bucky again,” you warn as you point the pen in his direction, “the two of you, in fact, are seated separately.” 

“No fun!” He whines dramatically. 

You scrunch your lips at him and peer around. Yes, none of this has been fun. Caterers, servers, tables, space, food! Yes, you were going to check on the cake. Your sole squeaks as you twist sharply and go to slam your hand into the door. 

“Hey,” Sam blocks your way with his arm, “before you disappear, you’re still wearing your boots.” He points to your feet, “in case you’re wondering about the snail trail.” 

He sweeps his finger up in a gesture alluding to your previous path. You glance over at the dirt littered in your stead then down at your dusty boots. You sigh and hang your head back. 

“Fuck!” You snarl. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a broom,” he assures you, “while you take a breath. You need it.” 

“I can’t, Sam, they’re already on their way. I still have to get everyone in their place and… quiet,” you scowl, “ugh, this is gonna be so bad. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“So… why’d you do it?” He asks as he drags his hand away from the doorframe. You look at him and blink slowly. You shrug. 

“I’m a good friend,” you insist. 

He gives a skeptical hum and nods, “sure are,” he grumbles, “too good, if you ask me.” 

You throw up your hand before turning into the kitchen. You don’t have time to worry about him. Is he jealous that you’re helping Steve so much? Or does he know something else? You don’t let the seed sprout as you nearly cry out at the sight of the cake. 

A pink bow. Jeez. Of course. You check the cake off your list, nearly tearing through the paper. It’s better than nothing, even if Peggy never settles for less than the best. 

There’s no time to complain or send it back. Your phone vibrates again. Five minutes. Your heart is racing. Why? This isn’t even your party. You just want it to be perfect for Steve. You hate to disappoint him. Ever. 

You really shouldn’t care that much but you do. Like so many other things in your life. 

💟

The crowd can't keep quiet. There's a low buzz that ripples through the guests. A wave of anticipation that's spread like a deadly virus. 

You feel a nudge in your side and peek over as Bucky sends Sam a sneer and wriggles in place. Those two never let up. You hiss at them to quit and they look as guilty as a pair of unruly children. 

"He keeps tickling me," Bucky whispers. 

"No, I'm tryna fix his hair, look at this mess," Sam flicks a strand away from Bucky's cheek, "this is a nice event, Buck, not your living room." 

"Both of you," you warn.  

"You're bitching at me when Indiana Jones here brought the dig with her," Bucky mutters. 

You look down. Dammit. You still didn't change out of your boots. You roll your eyes. It's not about you. It's Steve's night. Er, Peggy's.  

You shake out your nerves and shake your head, "you two," you step behind Bucky and insert yourself between the men, "behave." 

"Yes, mom," Sam snickers as Bucky groans and tries to smooth the few shanks that have slipped free of his low ponytail. 

You exhale and give an exasperated look to the door. You really can't handle them on top of everything else. You just want this night to end already. All your hard work and you won't even get to enjoy any of it. 

"Everybody," Natasha hisses as she runs away from the doorway, "they're coming." 

The group quiets, as much as they can, a collective bated breath as you wait and listen. The lull is unbearable as the heat of the bodies around you pricks sweat down your neck and across your scalp. The door begins to open, almost as if in slow motion, and as the guest of honour is revealed, you cry out. 

"SURPRISE!" The eruption of the chorus has your head spinning as Peggy gives a melodramatic swoon, grabbing at Steve's arm as she leans on him heavily. 

She parts only to fan her eyes and squeal. "Oh my god, you guys!"  

She teeters on her heels as people holler happy birthday and her group of girlfriends flutter over to wrap her up in a cacophony of giggles and preening. You smile, a bittersweet twitch in your cheek as you watch her spin back to Steve and pull him into a kiss.  

You're happy for them really, proud to see all your effort come to fruition, but you just feel so hollow. For an instant, you think it should be you right there, gushing in glee over the celebration of another year, with Steve beside you.  

You gulp down the jealousy and wiggle your nose to ward away the tears. That's a stupid thought. If it hasn't happened in more than a decade, it's not going to happen now. 

💟

As the guests disperse into their own conversations, you finally manage to wade through to the happy couple. You approach with a small wave at Steve. He doesn't see you, he's watching Peggy as she chats with Natasha. 

"Hi," you call above the din, "so, you like it?" 

Steve turns to you, confusion stitching his forehead before he registers your questions. He nods and gives a smile, "it's amazing, you did so good!" 

The sparkle in his eyes, the perfect line of his jaw, the way he's looking at you, it makes your heart rend. You tilt your head and dig your toe into the floor bashfully, "thanks. I'm so happy to see it come together." 

"Um, the cake," he brings his index finger up, "I was hoping to bring it out soon." 

"Er, yeah, it's back in the kitchen. About that–" 

"Great," he claps your shoulder and brushes by you, "just gonna put the finishing touches on it." 

"Hm, what do you–" 

He's gone before you can finish your question. You deflate just a little, setting your feet flat as you sway aimlessly. The motion hooks Peggy's attention. You give a sheepish smile as you wring your hands. 

"Oh, uh, just came over to wish you a happy birthday," you chirp, "are you enjoying it?" 

"Ah, I didn't see you here, I thought maybe you were busy…" she gives a pointed look to your boots, "working." 

"Um, yeah, no," you fidget, "always happy to come support you two." 

"Where is Steve?" She gazes past you, shouldering by dismissively, "he was just…." 

Right. You nod and flit away in embarrassment. You can't say you ever got along with Peggy. Where you're accommodating, she's a bit too demanding. Different people, but you don't dislike her. You just don't mesh. Or perhaps it's just that you don't get what Steve sees in her. Especially when you're right there. 

Enough. This isn't about you or your stupid dumb heart. Just smile and go with it. 

The kitchen door swings open, a noise barely discernible above the hue, and the rattling wheels of a cart underline the steady drone. A lull washes over the crowd as they part. You move with the tide and face the sudden divide. 

A hush falls over the room as Steve pushes the cake across the floor. He stops before Peggy as she faces him, another feigned pout of surprise. He grins proudly at her as you stare curiously at the top of the cake. 

"Oh, pink?" She comments on the fondant bow as her eyes flick over to you. She quickly corrects herself an admires the double tiered dessert, "Steve, it's so pretty." 

You know she hates the colour. You recall the one time you wore a pink bow in your hair and she made a similar comment. Cute, she remarked in her roundabout way in her oh so sophisticated accent. 

You manufacture a smile and step closer as Steve beckons to the guest. Tension stills the air, almost paralyzing the crowd. You squint at the heart shaped box perched atop the bow. 

"Is this for me?" Peggy asks if it's not obvious. 

Steve nods, his cheeks tinting pink, as you notice how he wipes his palms on his pants. Peggy delicately takes the box from the pedestal of fondant and your ribs ache from the pounding of your heart. You curl your fingers until your nails dig into your skin as you watch him kneel beside her. 

She doesn't notice as she opens the box on its hinges. Her lips part and she stares at the contents. She looks over at Steve to find him on his knee and she claps her hand over her mouth. Her eyes gleam as she whimpers his name through her fingers. 

The scene hazes behind your tears as you stare wide eyed. Your ears ring as Steve's voice is dulled by your shock. 

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter," Steve's timbre warble just a bit, "will you make me the happiest man on earth?" 

You don't wait for her answer. You already know it. It's the very same you give in every outlandish dream you've ever had of your happy ending. You spin and storm through the crowd, blind with horror and self-pity. 

Surprise! Your whole world is crashing into pieces. 

CHRIS EVANS as STEVE ROGERS Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)

NICHOLAS ALEXANDER CHAVEZ Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story 1.01

I read this here listening to SZA and broke down in tears as I just wanted a smut to read 😭

Just One More/No More

Relationship: Chris Evans x black!reader

Warnings: heartbreak, too many emotions, infidelity/cheating, an affair, graphic language, drinking, cliffhanger, emo smut, oral (fem rec), unprotected sex, crying, angst angst angst…18+

A/N: Angst Queen here…another for the Breakup to Make Up 2K collection. Mmm this is based on a true story…so it was fun to recount lol uh you might cry? I hope you do cuz I’m a monster. Not sorry for the cliffhanger. You won’t be having fun with this one.

You’re falling in love with him. Didn’t mean for it to happen, but…you’re falling in love with your best friend. Your best friend who you spent everyday with, getting drunk and shooting the shit, confessing every bit of your lives to each other for the past five years. Brought together through a friend of a friend, your relationship with Chris jumped off without an awkward breath, immediately bonding over your love of tattoos and football. Like it was meant to be. Whenever either of you had an idea in mind, you were each other’s first call. Let’s go here. Let’s try this out. Oh you know what would be fun? Hey I need a plus one. You had each other, and never second guessed a single thing about your relationship, even when your friends thought it was so weird that you guys are so close because,

“You’re not even his girlfriend.” Your friend Bri fusses as you two sit at a table on the patio, drinks in hand, while the guys order another round. “You don’t think that’s weird? You two spend all this time together and you don’t even reap the benefits.”

Little does she know…

You take a sip of your beer with a small shrug of your shoulders. “That’s a them problem.” You kinda shout across the table since an annoying 80’s rock ballad blares from the speakers. “Not an us problem. I can’t control Chris. Besides she’s trash fuck her.”

That wasn’t a secret. Chris had been dating the worst girl off and on for as long as you’d known him. She didn’t even seem all that interested in him, and you’d heard that she was out trying to fuck other dudes while being with the perfect guy. But they somehow were into each other? Their dynamic made literally zero sense. You can’t understand why he keeps going back, what fuckin spell she had on him, but she drove everyone crazy with her weirdo personality. With how she smothered Chris when they were together. How he became such a fuckin pussy when she was near. It was disgusting. It made you wanna fist fight her.

“Exactly. So why aren’t you two together?!”

That’s a question you’re tired of hearing. Everyone in your friend group could see it, hell you and Chris could see it for yourselves but clearly he has issues. And so do you, still working on getting over your ex who blew your heart apart. There’s just no need to address it. Where you and Chris exist is exactly what you need: best friends who take care of each other. In every conceivable way. But the feelings, the love, you two have for each other is very loud and very real even your friends picked up on it. Always wondering why. Always throwing their two cents in when neither of you asked. No matter how you felt deep down, this hodgepodge of a relationship worked in its own strange way.

Rolling your head back with a tired huff, you gripe, “Bri it doesn’t matter.” Because he’s never really going to leave her. “I’m fine.” But you aren’t. “We’re good!” For the time being.

Bri just stares at you with the stalest face, ignoring every bullshit word flying from your lips. “Bitch, you’re lying so hard through your teeth right now I wanna get up and leave.”

“What the fuck do you want me to do bro?”

Give him an ultimatum? End your friendship? Stop fucking him? Yeah you hated all those options. And she can’t come up with anything else either, already expecting you to come up with all sorts of excuses as to why you’ll never leave Chris alone.

“I’m just…” Darting her eyes to some dudes playing cornhole, Bri sorrowfully looks away, “I’m tired of seeing you hurting.”

Shit. Why’d she go and bring that up. Sitting your beer down, you smack your lips and sigh. All of that was the last thing on your mind lately. It’s been weeks since you cried about him, and you were no longer in your feelings about them getting back together for the 100th time. You knew not to get your hopes up, but he didn’t help when he whisked you out of town to hit some breweries for the day. Even though he was feeling some type of way most of the trip you guys had fun. Getting drunk and playing games, fucking in the backseat. Not even a week later, he was telling you she was apologizing and begging for him to take her back. And he did. But you knew what it was so you swallowed all that poison back down with a side eye and kept it moving.

Bri was starting to hate him for everything you’d been going through. His image tarnished the more he kept you hanging by this deteriorating thread. You told her to let it go, that this was as much your decision as it was his, but that didn’t matter to her. Chris was fuckin you up on the inside. And you wouldn’t let go because you’re in love with him. But how could you be when he was fucking with your emotions like this. It’s complicated to say the least.

The night’s nearing its end, and everyone’s about ready to call it except for you two. You guys had plans to go back to your place and drink some more, watch a movie or something. Bri’s already shaking her head as you hug her goodbye, yelling with her eyes GO HOME WITHOUT HIM but that’s not happening tonight.

“See you guys later.” Chris drops his heavy arm around your shoulders, turning you down the sidewalk to head to his car. Everyone disperses with laughs and shouts of goodbyes. Cars driving by looking for parking. You take his hand dangling over your shoulder with a smile when you feel his chin resting atop your head. “I’m starving.”

You’d eaten at the taco truck that’s traditionally parked at the bar but he’s a weirdo eater. Not into certain foods. So you guys always have to make a stop at the worst place. “Please don’t say we’re going to Burger King.”

Chris sniffs a laugh pulling you in closer to his side, flexing his muscles around your neck. He knows you hate that place he just loves to get a rise out of you. “Nah I can just eat up all your snacks.”

“You’re the worst,” you jab a sharp elbow in his gut, “but I’d prefer that over the smell of a Whopper.”

But he didn’t eat up your snacks, just your pussy until you were absolutely begging for him to stop. Always going so hard since his girlfriend didn’t like getting head and Chris had a consistent hunger for something sweet. Why would you ever complain about a man wanting to go down on you. Another pivotal moment you knew that his girlfriend wasn’t shit. Because this man was a beast, using all his mouth to make you cum over and over again. Tonight he’s up to four and you’re too drunk to handle five. Rooms been spinning since he ripped your jeans down your squirming legs. Your squeals are his motivator. Each time you’d climax all over his fluid tongue, you’d curse him for being so ferocious, the way his hooded sapphire gaze would intently watch you lose your mind, the way the corners of his lips perked up behind your messy pussy. You’d curse her for being such a basic bitch, for not releasing him so he could finally really be yours. You’d curse yourself for being such a simp because he didn’t deserve to be inside your heart, your mind, your body like this.

“You’re so weak.” Chris teases as he finally releases your trembling folds, fully licking the juices off his pretty smirking lips. “You know you could have given me another.”

“Asshole.” You’re still trying to catch your breath lifting your ten ton head off the seat of the couch. Combination of alcohol and euphoria weighing you down. Laughing at you struggling, Chris stretches up between your legs to give you a taste, hairs of his beard sticky wet against your chin murmuring,

“Love you too.” Soiled lips dancing across yours just before he kisses you slow, your senses overwhelmed by your essence. Fingers slipping through his soft fluffy hair. Yeah you guys were that comfortable with the “I love yous.” “Mmm you’re so fuckin delicious.”

“Yeah?” A noisy smack of your conjoined lips fills the silence. “Better than her?”

“Hmmm,” Chris suppresses a chuckle, lightly brushing his nose against yours, always loves when you want him to brag about it, “so much better baby…I could eat you out all night if you weren’t such a baby…”

Laughing softly, you guys unlatch your jaws for another filthy kiss, swapping your creamy goodness between greedy mouths. You could kiss Chris for hours, so damn perfect the spark’s electric every single time. The way your lips just molded so perfectly together. Always so sensual and down right erotic each time y’all were attached by the tongue. His jeans already open and falling off his narrow hips, Chris takes ahold of his cock and slaps it over your slit a few times before breaking through your welcoming entrance. Groaning together as he fills you up. No greater feeling in this universe. Maybe to him, your questions sound a little bitter…but for you, it’s just an ounce of gratification you needed to reassure that you’re the piece missing in his life…

“Oh—oh my…feel better than her?”

If only he could realize it…

“God yes baby…”

And actually do something about it…

“Only you make feel this fuckin good fuck.”

But he’s a man, an obedient love sick puppy…

“Fuck me like you love me Chris.”

Who has allegiance to the wrong owner.

“I do…I love you…”

Sure, you look like a dumb bitch, fucking and falling for someone who is off limits. Someone you shouldn’t even consider messing around with if you want to keep such a great friendship in tact. Because he is your best friend. You loved Chris unconditionally. But tell the story to anyone else and they’d all say the same thing: “Are you crazy?!” But in all honesty, you can’t think of the last time you felt sane. As much as you’re a crutch to him, Chris is to you as well, supplying you with just right type of attention to get your shit ex off your mind. You’d found some form of comfort in the midst of chaos. Plus the sex. Good God the sex…since she was hardly into anything, he exerted all that frustrated energy out on you. On top of that, the sexual chemistry between you and Chris was…immaculate. Which wasn’t ever a concern…but such a beautiful discovery the first time you two touched. The fuel to the madness and you guys couldn’t stop it no matter how hard either of you tried. Plenty of fights. Emotional breakdowns. Not speaking to each other for days until one of you caved, desperately running back to each other. Going absolutely nowhere.

But how could you be mad at yourself. So much of it felt completely out of your control. Before you knew it, you were swooning over his every word. Slipping. C’mon…it’s him. Goofy, lovable, good natured, effortlessly funny, fine ass Chris. Your potential demise in sight but you’re too blinded by his…everything.

Drowning. Damaging. So selfish. Immature. Fucked.

So no one else but Bri was aware of how close you were to your next emotional break. Not even Chris, and he’s usually hip to your feelings, which was weird if you think about it. Guess you were getting better at faking it. But there was no hiding your disgust when she was around. She really knew how to suck the excitement out of a room as soon as she walked in. The moment you could hear the collective grumblings from the group, you and Bri’s included, the vibes turned so sour.

“Fuck I thought she wasn’t coming out tonight.” You bitch to your bestie watching them cross the bar to where everyone’s seated. Lil lovesick pup in tow. Oh it’s going to be a long ass night. “Uuuggghhhh…look at them—,”

“We can go.” Bri offered it up quick because she’s been here too many times before. Seen how this night unfolds and she’d rather fucking not. “Please let’s go.”

“Hey girls!” Her shrill voice makes y’all’s skin crawl. Where did she even come from, you both grimace away from her. “Haven’t seen you two in forever.”

“Heeeey…” You and Bri turn to face her with flat smiles, doing your best to fake it but ugh. The hug was short and awkward and you wish you could take it back. But then Chris approaches and gives you one of those half assed, one armed, bullshit pat on the back type hugs, instead of his usual full teddy bear embrace, and it hurts. Couldn’t even look him in the eye as he pulled away, sighing back all the pain you feel. You fuckin hate when he does that shit to you in front of her. Hate it when he flips the little bitch switch.

“Seriously we can go. Right the fuck now.” Bri begs in your ear as the two of you watch them go talk to the others. She wants to save you but no matter how shitty you feel, you refuse to let them run you off.

Stewing, shooting daggers into Chris’s fit back, you slam back the rest of your beer and shake your head no as Bri groans in agony. She was hopeful…but she knew what was up.

“You’re on the clock.” She snaps her fingers to break your murderous stare off the spectacle. “We leave within the hour. Got it?”

Like an hour was going to save you. Anything can happen within an hour.

Beer after beer, you watch him treat you like the invisible man, and give her every ounce of his fake ass adoration. What’s it like living a double life? What’s it like pretending? Even his smile is falling, exhausted from pretending, but his brave face is strong. Your friends’ eyes exchange awkward glances the more she yakked on about absolutely nothing. Fuck she’s so boring, and phony. Phony ass couple. Each time you slammed down an empty bottle, another, full and uncapped, gets slammed down right behind it. Go on. Drink. Unravel because none of this shit matters. By the end of this charade, he’ll be texting you, asking if he can come spend the night with you. Not her.

“Hey can I talk to you for a bit?”

Jumping up in your seat, startled, she caught you completely lost in your thoughts, looking back at her with a confused brow.

“Sure?” You blink but unmoved so she takes an empty seat beside you with this unnerving smirk you’d love to slap off her stupid face.

“Look, I really just want to thank you for taking care of Chris.” She starts, almost placing her hand on your shoulder but your angered brow advised her against that. “You know, being there for him through everything. You’re a really good friend. I think you should know that.”

Of course you know that! And you didn’t need her bitch ass to tell you that! Clearing the animosity from your knotted throat, you shoot her a stale grin and choke, “my pleasure.” Because what the actual fuck are you supposed to say to any of that. She can go, her validation is hardly needed. Unfortunately for you, that’s not the end of her speech.

“We’re both really grateful to have you in his life.” Your brow pinches. “You keep him…occupied when I can’t. And I love you for that.”

Bri and Chris observe you two from their respected corners, wondering what she’s saying to have you frowned up like that. Ready to run interference just in case she jumps stupid or something.

You almost fix your mouth to ask her what she means by all that bullshit she just spouted off but you reconsider. She loves you for what exactly? Keeping him occupied? Like you’re his fuckin baby sitter or something? Is she serious? You really wanted to ask but you also didn’t want to have an actual conversation with her. You have no clue what to say…so she takes your dumbfounded silence as an opportunity to expand. Totally blindsiding you.

“I know y’all are hooking up.” The noise of the bar fades away. “I mean…I sorta encouraged it, ya know?” No you didn’t fuckin know! Your skin’s aflame with embarrassment and rage. “Sometimes I just need him from underneath me. So thank you.”

Her smile’s so joyful, like she really meant her gratitude towards you but in the back of your mind, she’s lowkey mocking you? Is this bitch mocking you?! No words. No thoughts. Stupefied. Is your hour up yet because you’ve got to get the fuck up out of here. Dropping your bottle back on the table, you’re up on your feet and booking it, unsure of where you’re going. You just had to get the fuck away from her stupid happy face. Chris stops Bri from getting up as he chases you out to the back patio, calling out to you when you’re both safe in the warm night air.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on? What did she say?”

Spinning around to face him, you almost collide into his broad chest but you hold steady, pointing a sharp finger up at his nose. “What’d she say?! Are you fuckin kidding me right now?!” You snatch your hand out of his face, pivoting to turn away but you stop yourself, “Did you know that was going to happen? Did you two plan to ambush me?!”

Chris is thrown by that word. “Ambush you?! What?! No I’d never do that to you. What’s going on. What did she say.”

“How does she know about us Chris?”

The question slaps him upside the head, slaps all the words right off his drying tongue. Face falling with the reality of what was happening, he can’t even process what you just asked. Why would she…

“She…she doesn’t…” Chris blinks but that’s uncertain. “She…she shouldn’t…” He looks just as stuck as you, trying to playback any memory where he may have let it slip but nothing. He wouldn’t just come out and tell her something like this, right?

“She pretty much just told me she does!” You didn’t know what to do with your hands flailing all around your head. Really you wanted to hit him but it’d be pointless with all that muscle. Maybe you should go back inside and fuckin hit her! Because seriously, what the hell was that?! You don’t know what to make of this fuck shit. Chris didn’t know what to say, really hates to see you so upset so he goes to give you a hug but you push yourself out of his reach. You don’t want his comfort. “I’m—I’m so…I don’t know…embarrassed? Pissed off…like…what the actual fuck dude?!” You’re so mad you pace, not to be near him.

“I’m so sorry baby…” Sorry? Really? “I had no clue, seriously, I’m just as shocked as you are…”

How the fuck could he not have known that his girlfriend was going to drop this atomic bomb in your fuckin lap?! There’s no way that’s possible; they have had to talked about you and him before, had to have been asking questions because there’s no way this bitch was just holding onto a secret like this for so long. But then again she’s weird enough come up with a plan like this. And with the way he’d been acting all night? Something was up.

“Then why the fuck have you been treating me like shit?!” You shout with every ounce of negative energy brewing in the pit of your stomach, blowing Chris absolutely away with the sheer volume of your voice.

Thankfully the patio is empty. You and Chris shouting back and forth like this would definitely draw a crowd. Glaring each other down, huffing frustrated breaths into each other’s faces. Teetering between wanting to punch him or kiss him. This is what it’s like every time you guys fight.

“You know what I have to do to keep her in the dark.” His tone has dropped substantially, some of the fire extinguishing in the center of his beautiful eyes. “She was never supposed to find out.”

Shit maybe she was. Maybe this is what you needed to get the fuck out of this situationship because now it’s just creepy. She encouraged it? She loves you for it? The fuck kind of shit is that to say to someone who is fucking your boyfriend on the regular?! Behind all the beers and the overanalyzing you can’t think straight. You’re so done. Just…fuck this.

“Well you know what Chris, looks like you don’t have to do that anymore.” Hearing your exhausted tone has Chris panicked, afraid he’s about to hear exactly what he should expect after what she did. He’s starting to wonder if she did it on purpose. You refuse to look at him, just so upset with yourself for being so foolish. “And quite frankly, I don’t have to do this anymore either.”

Chris tuts with an annoyed brow. “No, c’mon, don’t do this.”

But you got to. For real this time. “She knows Chris…” How were you supposed to carry on with this knowledge. “We can’t. I fuckin can’t.”

It really should have hurt to say the words but you’re too numb, too fucked up to feel anything other than utter confusion. You’re officially out of time. This hour has to be up. Fuck how he feels, hitting you with them wide sad eyes you can’t look into because he’ll win if you do. You are legit completely crumbling internally and you’d rather him or his dumbass girlfriend not be a witness to this breakdown.

“Please…please don’t…” You have to ignore him as you head for the exit, snatching your hand and arm away from his reach. “Don’t end us like this.”

“Handle your shit Chris…” You toss a dismissive hand back over your shoulder, refusing to look back. You need to be strong this time around. You have to be, no matter how bad walking away is tearing you up inside. Already sniffling, blinking back tears of frustration and heartbreak, you pull out your phone to text Bri that you’re done. Done for the night and done with Chris’s bullshit.

But it’s not that easy. He never let’s it be easy for you to be done with him. Doesn’t even text or call, just appears at your door a few hours later with those glossy dazzling blue eyes, red and puffy, asking you to let him in. Yours, just as red and swollen, avoids looking directly at him, still trying to keep up the act that you’re done. But you can’t help but love that he came crawling back to you anyways. Sick little ego trip.

“Why are you here?” You hold tightens around the doorknob as you keep your gaze down at your bare feet.

Chris sniffles his pink nose, “I had to come see you…”

You can’t tell if that twinge in your chest is from ache or want, asking with a sad shrug, “For what.”

All he wanted was for you to look at him. “To make sure we’re okay.”

A weak smirk twitches over your frowned lips. “We’re so far from okay Chris. You know that…”

He’s trying to wait for you to invite him in, but when he sees a tear fall down your cheek, he shoves his way in, gathering you up in his big arms as he swings the door close. Holding you so close to his chest, your feeble cries are muffled into his shirt, slipping your trembling hands across his upper back. You can’t help it, and it’s the reason why you’ve been avoiding his touch anyway. He feels too good, too secure even when he’s the source of all your pain and confusion.

“Don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”

You hate how concerned he sounds. You bury your crying eyes deeper into his shirt, transferring your hot tears to his skin through the cotton. You hated how much you wanted him. Even right now…there’s no one else in the world you want to console you.

“Then stop making me cry.”

You both squeeze at each other, your soft sobs and his sniffles sound in the quiet space of your entry. Chris nuzzles his cheek against the side of your hair, working to suppress his own tears but it’s hard to hear you be so upset. Your heartbreaking whimpers shred his heart up but this is all his fault.

“I’m not trying to. I…I’m just as confused as you are baby trust me…”

“But…” you wipe your nose on his shirt before you lift your chin to show him all the pain you feel right now, how all the tears flow from your puffy eyelids, “this isn’t fair Chris…”

Brushing away a tear that slides down the slope of your nose, he agrees, shedding a few tears of his own. “Yeah. Yeah I know it’s just…”

Y’all can’t let each other go.

But you really had to try this time. For your sanity.

Closing your eyes, you breathe through a quake of emotions rattling in you heaving chest. Chris’s firm hold on your burning flesh makes you want to cry harder, his heavy shaky sighs—god this is too fuckin much. His twitchy thumb wipes away your drying salty trails. Chris is always so fuckin sweet and attentive in everything he does, but it was worse in the way he could just touch you. Made you so fuckin weak. Made you hurt even more.

“We have to. I can’t…it hurts too much…” your hand cradles his still clutching your quivering jaw. “This hurts too much Chris. I love you too hard and I just can’t—,” You take a big bite of your tingling bottom lip, your vision of his piercing sad eyes blurring, “I can’t carry on like this. This is fuckin torture.”

You can’t hold back this bout of oncoming tears if you tried. Just reflecting back on all the years you’ve been stuck in the exact same position with him…

“It’s not easy for me either baby please stop…”

Chris holds your wet cheeks with both big hands now, your fingers locked around his pulsing wrists. He’s do anything to take your pain away, to make you feel anything other than this. Fuck, the more you cry into his palms already soaked, the more Chris wanted to rip his own heart out and just hand it over. Let’s be real, you owned it, and you have for a long time but. Tired of seeing you such a blubbering mess, willing to do anything to get you to stop, he softly hushes you behind small kisses all over your damp face.

“Chris.” You huff, wishing you had the power to fight him off but you love the feeling behind each one. Suddenly your stumbling over your bare feet as Chris backs you up against the nearest wall, accomplishing what he set out to do. Your breath hitches for a different reason now. Hitting the wall with his extended arm first, his hips securely press you into the cool flat surface.

“No baby,” he whispers, lifting your chin so you can taste your tears off his pretty pink lips, “not yet…” A small sigh of relief leaves you as your lips lock with his, licking away your sadness just as he breaks away to say, “let me love you okay?”

Within a second, your legs are wrapped around his hips and his tongue is down your throat with a desperate whine. He can’t help but feel like…like this could be the last time he’d ever be this close to you so he had to feel you, taste you, hear you passionately yell out his name. Kissing so hard but slow, gripping your thighs with all his might. Your fingers slot all through his fluffy strands. The ache still so present in your chest but the more Chris pushes your lower back into the wall with those little hungry moans, the more it dulls. Just for a moment but you’ll take it. This is the problem. The addiction. It’s the passion, the raw emotions. This is the why.

“Fuck,” you whimper into his open mouth, trying to regain your senses after such a make out but you’re fading. “Don’t say that…”

“What.” His hand fiddles between your midsections, working to unsheathe himself, staring intently into your eyes still red but soften a little by lust. Reading the heartache, neither of you spoke a word, just listen to the movement of Chris manipulating his cock out and aiming the tip at the crotch of your shorts already moved to the side. Upon initial contact, your slit salivates anticipating his weight for she’s just as addicted to him as the rest of you. Just as you feel the tip slip its way inside, you bite back a rough groan, tightening your hold around his broad shoulders. It’s too easy, too perfect, the way he fills you up.

“Don’t say that you love me.” You’re gasping for air, fighting your eyes trying to roll back into your head once he’s all the way in. Keep your focus on his conflicted stare. His cock wildly throbbing against your walls spasming all around him pumping you. Using his mighty hold on your ass, he bounces you up and down his girth. Whimsically gazing up at you moan with each stroke. Really trying to etch this image into his memory because you’re so damn beautiful when he’s fuckin you.

“But I do…” but you reject him with a shake of your head, “I do love you baby. Hey.” You pop your burning lids back open. Breath completely stolen by his glossy baby blue eyes cutting you open. “You feel me yeah? Feel how much I love you?”

Chris can feel how much you love him. In the way you intently watch him, the way fist the neck of his shirt, the way your persistently dripping all down his cock.

“Yeah,” a sharp gasp interrupts; his dick aggressively nudges up against your spot, “yeah Chris I feel you.”

He kisses your chin, still effortlessly fucking his feelings inside your clenched walls. “Then you know…you know it’s you…”

But it’s not you, and that breaks you even further, pursing back a sob as the tears flow again. If it was you, this wouldn’t be so horribly sad. This wouldn’t feel like a fuckin breakup.

“You’re full shit.” You sputter behind a combination of moans and sobs, a brutal shudder quakes down your spine. How is it you when he’s never chosen you. “You’re lying.”

He can’t take another damning word, or how your tears pool on the edge of your pretty lashes so he takes your salty lips again. Frenching back all of your cries, digging his fingerprints further into your flesh, Chris grinds and rolls his hips, determined to prove himself to you. But it doesn’t matter how hard he fucks you or makes you cum. When he leaves here, he’s not breaking up with her. You know it. He knows it. His fluffy hair completely disfigured from your hands pulling his hair at the roots, loudly grunting into each other as he picks up the pace. Your locked legs shaking you’re so close and you’re thankful. God you love the shit out of him but you hate him for making you feel this fucked up. It really doesn’t matter. None of this. Grabbing two fistfuls of his hair you tear him away and sorrowfully shake your head. No more.

“Okay baby.” His words inflicted with his heartbreak Chris licks his pouty pink lips, clears the cries climbing up his throat. “Okay…”

You’re gonna miss him.

“I’m…I’m so sorry baby.” Chris kisses his favorite spot on your neck goodbye, lingering there because he loves your fragrance, loves the way you sigh his name each time. He’s going to miss your warmth. You’re so much warmer than her.

You hug him so close, smell his hair, his cologne. A chill prickles your skin. “Me too love. Fuck.” You’re so fuckin wet, ready to fall apart for him for the last time. The twister of memories and emotions spins your brain all around, absolute chaos intertwined with the euphoric bliss that’s about to take over your wrecked body. Tears of relief.

Chris can’t decipher what aches more: his heart or his cock that’s about to combust. It shouldn’t happen this way but he’ll take this depressing fuck over fighting with you. He’ll take whatever he can get because he deserves nothing. Doesn’t deserve you but deep down, he’s thankful that he did.

“Oh! Aw fuck…shit…I love…”

Just one more…

“Good god…Chris…I love you…”

Just one more moment…

LANA LANG ⏤ Smallville 1.15 “Nicodemus” (insp)

What a cutie (‘Stronger' premiere-October 3, 2017-Switzerland). ✨

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Bill Skarsgård as Eric The Crow (2024)

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