#the amount of time i spent FINISHING this is illegal like last night i had the sketch done and even lined jo in the first panel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nerdzzone · 3 years ago

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Luckless Romance

Summary: When Whitney Taylor was lucky enough to get the job of a lifetime doing a photoshoot for Marvel Studios, she didn’t expect to come away from the experience with a new friend. Especially not a friend that she quickly fell head over heels for.

Convinced that those feelings were completely one sided, she kept them to herself - until one night changed everything.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Prequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy + -More Hearts Than Mine-

Note: While this is set before the other two parts of this story, I would definitely recommend reading the other two first if you haven’t already. I know that might seem odd, but I do think it flows better that way. This is more of an aside than an introduction, I think, but it could just be that I wrote them in this order so that’s how it makes sense to me.

Anyway! Thank you to everyone who has been eagerly awaiting this part of their story. The support has been so motivating and I’m already working on more little snippets of their lives together that should hopefully be posted soon.

Please let me know what you think!

_____

August 2015

Growing up in Los Angeles - especially with a rather well known uncle - I was very aware that celebrities were really just normal people who usually weren't deserving of the obsessive adoration they received from the general public.

That being said, it still felt very surreal when I found myself sitting around a table with some of Hollywood's biggest stars as we celebrated the end of a long and tiring photo shoot in which I was the photographer. Three weeks earlier, I had been slaving away at a department store portrait studio taking boring, uninspired family photos, so the contrast between that and where I was now - sharing drinks with the cast of Marvel's next big movie after wrapping my first real photography gig - would be enough to make anyone feel a tad awestruck.

It didn't help that it had all come together so quickly that I'd hardly had time to wrap my head around it. The photographer that they originally had lined up to do the shoot had some kind of family emergency and had to drop out at the last minute. They were going to postpone the shoot indefinitely, but my family connections with Iron Man provided another solution. My uncle Rob wasted no time in giving Marvel my name and portfolio and less than twenty-four hours later I was signing a contract for the biggest career opportunity I'd ever had.

I was endlessly grateful - the pay was far better than I was getting at the department store and there was plenty of potential for more Marvel related photo shoots in the future - but the pressure was nerve wracking. I'd hardly slept at all in the few days leading up to it and by the time we wrapped, I was exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and the relief that I survived kicked in, I was very much looking forward to crawling into my bed with a nice glass of wine to get a good night's sleep before I started the editing process the next day.

But there was no time for rest with this crowd and it was quickly decided that we were all going out for some kind of unofficial wrap party. The official one had been two weeks before when they'd finished filming in Georgia, but now that they were reunited in L.A., it seemed another celebration was necessary. I'd protested at first and tried to sneak off before they could realize I was gone, but my uncle thwarted my plan and, after a few minutes of heavy guilting about how long it had been since I'd spent any time with him, I reluctantly agreed.

Which was how I found myself sitting at a table in a private room of a popular bar with my uncle - Robert Downey Jr - my Aunt Susan, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johannsen and Paul Rudd. There were other cast members and their friends dotted around the room, some sitting by the bar while others played pool, and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I'd been given a chance to join this team of incredibly talented people in some small way.

I was also taking a moment to be grateful that my placement in the booth we were sitting in gave me the opportunity to be sandwiched between the wall and Chris Evans - who smelt so good that it should probably be illegal.

There'd been a spark between us all day. He was attractive - I'd known that going in, it was a pretty beautiful cast - but seeing him in person with all his Captain America muscles was really quite a sight.

But it was more than just that.

There was something about the way he looked at me, flashing me those blush inducing smirks along side his teasing comments and the way he was so genuinely kind and polite to me throughout the whole day. I was sure that my uncle had warned them that this was my first high profile shoot, but Chris had been incredibly supportive and he never came across as condescending if he offered me any suggestions. He checked in with me throughout the day to make sure that I wasn't getting too overwhelmed and it was very much appreciated despite the fact that his effortless flirting often left me more distracted than productive.

Sitting next to him now, feeling his thigh pressed against mine due to the tight squeeze needed to fit our whole group around the table, had me very distracted again until my uncle dragged me back into the conversation.

"So, Whitney, how's Trent?"

His question, or more likely the displeasure in his voice when he asked it, captured the attention of the table and all eyes were on me as I shrugged.

"He's great as far as I know, but I haven't talked to him in a while," I admitted. "We broke up a couple of months ago."

"Thank god for that," Robert grinned. "It's about time!"

"Don't be insensitive," Susan scolded him, which probably would have been deserved if I didn't know how accurate of a statement it was. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I think she means 'what horrible thing did he do that finally made you come to your senses'?"

Susan swatted at her husband, but I cringed at the memory.

"It was really bad. I don't even want to tell you."

His jaw tightened at that remark as his glee shifted to something more like concern.

"What did he do? Do I need to assemble my team of Avengers and kick his ass?"

I giggled at the thought of that happening as all the men around the table voiced their willingness to help.

"Thank you, but no, I'd rather you didn't," I assured them. "It wasn't anything horrific, it's just embarrassing that I ever went out with someone as sleezy as he was."

Chris glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Well, in that case, you gotta tell us now..."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement and I, rather foolishly, looked at my uncle for support, but all I received was a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. So, against my better judgment and with a sigh of shame and regret, I explained.

"He took me out for drinks on my birthday and invited some woman that he met on Tinder to join us," I informed them. "Apparently, without my knowledge, he'd advertised that we were looking for someone to join us for a threesome that night which was his birthday gift to me."

There was a collective widening of eyes and, after approximately two seconds of stunned silence, a howl of laughter came from my uncle. The rest of the group, however, seemed unsure what to say until Paul spoke up.

"Well, was that was you asked for?"

"No!" I shrieked in protest. "I mean, to each their own, but no! Absolutely not!"

My uncle looked like he was about to cry from laughter as the rest of the group joined in with him. All except for Chris, who was biting back a smile with what seemed to be a considerable amount of effort.

"Guys, c'mon, don't laugh at that!" He scolded them. "That's horrible!"

"Oh, don't feel too bad for her," Robert warned him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "The guy took her to Hooters on their first date and she still agreed to see him again."

It was true and looking back, I had no way to justify such a poor choice. I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a long sip from the gin and tonic in front of me.

"Shut up," I huffed. "He said he just liked the wings there..."

"That's classic," Sebastian smirked. "That's what they all say!"

"Why did you even agree to go out with a man named Trent?" Anthony chimed in. "There's no way someone named Trent isn't going to be a douche bag."

Chris laughed then, throwing his head back as his hand came up to rest on his chest.

"That's true!" He howled and, as embarrassed as I was by the situation, I couldn't help but feel a different kind of flush at the sound of his heartfelt laugh.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Susan chimed in despite the smile on her face as well. "It sounds like poor Whitney has learned her lesson so there's no need to make her feel any worse."

Robert shrugged and gave me a pointed look.

"As long as she promises to make better choices."

I appreciated that he had my best interest at heart, but I rolled my eyes anyway in a show of annoyance.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm swearing off men for a while so there will be no choices made at all, good or bad, for the foreseeable future."

Susan frowned at that information, clearly displeased by my resignation to being alone, but luckily, a distraction arrived at our table and forced a change of subject - a distraction in the form of Jeremy Renner with a very full tray of shots.

Everyone cheered at the sight of him, but my uncle nudged me under the table to draw my attention back towards him.

"This is why I call him the Lord of the Underworld," he warned me. "Be careful..."

"Don't listen to him!" Jeremy insisted, handing out two shots to everyone except my aunt and uncle who weren't drinking. "I just know how to encourage everyone to have a good time."

"Does this group need any encouragement?"

Scarlett's question earned a laugh from the crowd, but Jeremy nodded his head.

"Apparently so or you wouldn't all be sitting in a corner, nursing your first drinks!" He pointed out. "So, drink up!"

He lifted a shot glass in the air and we all copied the action, giving a 'cheers' before tossing back the sharp tequila he'd chosen. The second shot went down almost immediately after and as I felt it burning down my throat, I knew we were in for quite a night.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Chris asked as we stood around a ping pong table with Anthony and Scarlett a bit later in the evening. "Girls against boys?"

"No way, man," Anthony shook his head, putting his arm around Scarlett's shoulders. "I want this one on my team."

"Ouch," Chris smirked. "But whatever, I was just trying to make it fair. If you want to play against the two best players then that's your choice."

"You literally met her today," Scarlett reminded him with a laugh. "How would you know what her ping pong skills are like?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my uncle beat me to it as he chimed in from where he sat at a nearby table.

"She's terrible at almost every sport, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with competitive spirit."

"Terrible is harsh!"

My protest did nothing to reassure Chris though as he shook his head.

"Good thing I have enough skill for the both of us then."

"I have skills!" I insisted. "Let's stop messing around and I'll prove it."

Anthony joined in the laughter at my expense as he bounced the ball on the table.

"Alright, do we all know the rules?" He asked. "The ball has to bounce once on your side of the table before you can hit it back."

"First to ten?" Chris suggested. "We'll let you guys go first."

We all agreed and Anthony bounced the ball again as he prepared to serve. He started off slow and gentle, lobbing it over slowly enough that I returned it with no trouble. However, when Scarlett hit it back, Chris made it clear he was here to play as he hit it with enough force that Scarlett had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.

"Yes!" I cheered, reaching over to high five Chris. "Nice one!"

"Okay, I see how it is," Anthony shook his head as he tossed the ball back to us for our serve. "No holding back now."

Chris smirked as he easily caught the ball. He didn't waste any time before throwing it back with a hard serve, but this time they were ready for it and Anthony hit it back easily. He aimed it at me, which I could only assume was deliberate due to my uncle's doubts of my abilities, but I managed to send it straight back. His surprise at my success was clear as he was unprepared for it to be heading back in his direction and we scored another point.

"Beginners luck!"

Robert's interjection from the sidelines earned him a rude gesture from me, but I knew he was probably right - unless the last couple of drinks had somehow sharpened my reflexes and I seriously doubted that as I was already well on my way past tipsy.

However, the next few rounds showed that my uncle had been wrong and I, apparently, had quite a knack for table tennis. Chris and I worked together like a dream and were absolutely decimating Scarlett and Anthony. The game was almost over as fast as it started, but when we only needed one more point Chris suddenly appeared to give up. He missed shot after shot and we were quickly losing our lead which was making me lose my temper.

"Dammit, Chris," I huffed, trying to suppress my annoyance as he missed a very easy ball. "Get it together over there!"

"Me?!" He gawked. "I thought you were going to get that one!"

"It was clearly on your side!"

"If that's what you think," he started as he picked up the ball and came back to the table. "Then you need to get your eyes tested, sweetheart."

"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I shot back. "Start paying more attention before you make us lose."

"Whatever you say," he smirked at me before adding: "Sweetheart."

I shot him a glare and - without thinking - I swatted his very hard to ignore, perfectly sculpted bum with my paddle. He yelped, catching the ball that he'd just thrown into the air with the intention of serving and stared at me wide-eyed. I was almost as surprised by the action as he was and I opened my mouth to apologize, but I was interrupted before I could.

"Careful there, Whitney," Sebastian warned from where he sat with my uncle at the spectator's table. "That's Marvel property!"

"They're very protective of it too," Anthony joked. "It's one of their best assets."

"Yeah, so show it some respect," Chris demanded, looking cocky despite the slight red tint to his cheeks. "And anyway, if you're trying to get me to focus then I don't think making me think about spanking is a great strategy."

"Ooh," I giggled. "Someone get me the number for TMZ! I've got tomorrow's headline ready for them: 'Chris Evans likes to be spanked'!"

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gently served the ball.

"Who said I like to be the one receiving?"

My mouth went dry when I realized what he was implying and several uncalled fantasies flashed through my brain. With that short little sentence, images filled my mind of him using his large hands for something entirely different to what they were currently doing - something that perhaps involved bending me over his lap. I felt a wave of heat wash over me at that thought as my gaze was drawn to him while I wondered if he was aware of the effect that he had on me. I was so pathetically distracted that I didn't even see the ball coming back towards us until it hit me on the side of my head.

Despite my embarrassing blunder, Chris and I managed to get ourselves together quickly enough to still win the game and our victory was promptly celebrated by another round of drinks.

My aunt and uncle left not long after that as they were eager to get home to their young children, but my uncle couldn't go without a few parting words when I hugged them goodbye.

"Chris is a good man," he informed me. "I'm not sure what his stance is on threesomes, but he wouldn't take you to Hooters on a first date, that's for sure."

I could tell what he was implying, but I questioned him anyway. The only answer I could pull out of him was a teasing wink and Susan ushered him out the door with a roll of her eyes and firm instructions for me to call them soon.

I tried to push his comment from my mind because the thought of a man as handsome, funny and intelligent as Chris Evans even considering the idea of taking me on a date seemed like insanity, but I would have been lying if I said it didn't instill a tiny flicker of hope in me. I was fairly certain that he had been flirting with me so maybe it wasn't entirely as far-fetched as my low self-esteem would have me believe.

I tried not to dwell on his words too much through the rest of the evening, but it was hard to shake the idea from my mind. Especially with how tactile he was with me. Whether it was when we moved on to dancing and he pulled me close, whenever we were walking to the bar and kept his arm draped around my waist or when we eventually settled on a pair of bar stools, sitting close enough that my knees were tucked between his.

That was how we were sat, tucked together at the bar, when I finished another drink and realized that the fuzziness in my head and the weight of my eyelids were telling me that it was time to head home. I wasn't eager for the night to end, I wanted to stay in this little flirtatious bubble as long as possible, but I could feel the alcohol induced fatigue hitting me and I knew I needed to leave before I no longer had the energy.

"How are you getting home?" Chris asked when I announced my departure. "Do you want some company while you wait for a cab?"

"Oh, that's okay," I assured him as I slid off the bar stool I'd been sitting on. "I'm just gonna walk."

"Walk?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where do you live?"

"Only about twenty minutes away," I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

I was being purposely vague, but Chris' questions persisted until I finally confessed what neighbourhood I lived in. Once I did, a worried look clouded his face.

"Really? That's not a great area..."

"It's not that bad!" I insisted. "I mean, I'll definitely move once the photography thing picks up and I would appreciate if you don't tell my uncle, but it's not that bad."

"He doesn't know?" Chris raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could only be interpreted as one of judgment. I nodded in answer to his question and he sighed, tossing back the last of the beer in front of him before standing up as well. "Just let me say goodbye and I'll walk with you."

"No, no, you don't have to do that! Stay with your friends."

"My Ma would kill me if she found out I let a woman walk home alone and I'm guessing Robert would have something to say about it too from what you just said," he insisted, flashing me one of his dazzling smiles. "Besides, I was gonna head out soon anyway."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded in response.

"Absolutely."

I felt bad that he was leaving because of me, but I had a feeling that any arguments would be futile. I followed him around the room, saying goodbye to the few people who were still at the bar before we headed outside. As soon as the fresh air hit me, I really felt the full affects of the several drinks I'd had throughout the night and I was quite grateful for Chris' company on my walk.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry you had to leave early."

Chris had pulled his baseball hat lower on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity a bit more, but the people bustling in the streets were too oblivious or drunk to pay much attention.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled down at me. "It was time for me to go anyway. I've had enough wild nights with Renner to know that nothing good happens after midnight."

"Oh, I see how it is," I smirked. "I thought this was a chivalrous gesture, but it's just an act of self-preservation."

Chris laughed, a deep laugh that made my smirk slide into a grin, as he held out his arm for me to take which I happily did.

"Can't it be both?"

"I suppose. I guess you must be pretty chivalrous to take on a role like Captain America." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up. "Sorry, that was dumb. I sound like some shitty interviewer. Like, 'tell me what aspects of the character you see in yourself'."

I'd put on a bad, faux news anchor voice for the last part of that sentence and I felt Chris' arm shake as he chuckled, but he shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It's a fair question," he assured me. "I think I've always been pretty chivalrous. I'm close with my mom and two sisters so they made sure I knew how to treat a lady. But that is one bonus of playing a character like Cap, he has such strong morals and such a steady sense of right and wrong, it inspires me to be as much like him as I can be."

Just as he finished his thought, I stumbled over an uneven part of the sidewalk and was only saved from face planting by his grip on my arm. I flushed with embarrassment again, but the alcohol in my system had me dissolving into giggles.

"Sorry, thank you. Wow, I'd say you really do have some Captain America traits." I flashed him a smile. "Was it like a lifelong dream for you? If you don't mind me asking, last question about it, I promise."

"You can ask all the questions you want," he shrugged and it seemed genuine, not just an expected assurance. "But no, it wasn't. I actually turned it down several times."

"Really? You did? Isn't a role like that every actor's dream?"

"Probably," he nodded. "But I did the Marvel thing with Fantastic Four and even that little taste of fame was almost too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm so grateful for all the opportunities I've been given, but it can be a lot to deal with."

"Those obsessive fangirls too much for you?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. " I was already having panic attacks, so I wasn't sure that I could handle taking that next step. But it's more just the total lack of privacy that comes with fame. Not just for me either, I knew it would affect my whole family."

"That makes sense," I nodded, knowing from my own experience that he was absolutely right. There'd been a few unfortunate incidents on slow news days where articles about 'Robert Downey Jr.'s niece' had popped up after some of my poorer choices in life. "Are you glad that you went for it now?"

"Absolutely! It was the best thing I've ever done. There are times when I still struggle, I don't do well at the premieres with all the pressure and the people, but the whole cast is like a family so the support is amazing."

"It's really sweet how close you guys all seem to be."

"It makes a big difference," Chris agreed as we turned off the main street in the direction of my neighbourhood. "But what about you? Have you always wanted to be a photographer?"

I paused for a moment as I tried to get my rather tipsy brain to figure out the simplest response to his question.

"Yes and no," I finally answered. "I've always loved photography, but I never really considered it as a career until about two years ago. I actually went to university to study accounting."

"Accounting? Wow, so you're a math wiz?"

"Hardly," I giggled. "It was what my dad wanted me to do to guarantee myself a solid career, but I hated it. I flunked out within a year. I'm not entirely sure that my dad has ever forgiven me for it, he was really disappointed in me."

"But surely he just wants you to be happy, whatever job you have..."

"You would think so," I shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it all the time though. He's very against the whole starving artist thing. He's not a bad person, but he's very practical and just can't understand how suffocating an office job would be for someone who likes to be creative. I get the impression that just being around me these days exasperates him."

I felt another blush cover my cheeks as I realized I was over-sharing. It could easily be blamed on the alcohol, but Chris was a good listener and I found him very easy to talk to.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "That was more information than you probably needed."

"You don't need to apologize so much," Chris assured me. "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want to hear the answer."

"Sor-" I paused. "Bad habit, I guess."

Chris squeezed my arm and shot me a reassuring smile before getting our conversation back on track.

"So, what made you persevere with photography in the end?"

"I just really enjoy doing it. I love capturing those unexpected moments, like the awkward laughter in between poses, the moments when people have their guard down and don't realize how beautiful they look. Then, when I get to share the photos I've taken with people and they see themselves in a different way, the joy it brings them makes it worth any financial struggles." As I finished my explanation, a thought struck me. "I actually got some good ones today, just on my phone when you guys first came in, not doing the planned and posed stuff."

They'd all been so excited to see each other even though it was just a few short weeks since they'd wrapped the film. It was sweet and I hadn't been able to resist capturing their reunion.

"Really? Could I see them?"

"If you give me your phone number, I can send them to you," I smiled up at him. "That would actually be helpful. They're obviously different than the ones I took for the actual shoot, but you can tell me if they're any good or if you think I just got the job because of my connections."

I reached into my bag and handed my phone to Chris so he could type in his number which he did before shooting me a skeptical glance.

"Do you really think your connection to Robert is the only reason you got the job?"

"Well, it was all so last minute. I can't help, but assume it's a mix of desperation and some pulled strings," I admitted. "But I know this is my one shot. Robert really believes in people making their own way in life so if I totally blow this opportunity, I know he won't fight for them to have me back again and I wouldn't want him to."

We turned another corner, taking us just a few blocks from my apartment building as Chris answered.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten you the job if there was any chance that he thought you would fail," Chris assured me. "But he is a good person to have in your corner. I probably wouldn't have taken the Captain America gig at all if it wasn't for him convincing me I could do it. He can be very persuasive."

I smiled at that information. I knew my uncle didn't like to take no for an answer so I could imagine how that conversation went.

"He can be very encouraging when he needs to be," I agreed. "Even if that encouragement sometimes comes out in the form of publicly shaming someone for their taste in men."

Chris let out another deep laugh and shook his head.

"C'mon, you gotta admit you deserved that."

"I did not!"

"He took you to Hooters and you didn't run away as fast as possible," Chris reminded me as if I could have forgotten such an embarrassing decision. "If that's not deserving of some public shaming then I don't know what is."

"Dating is hard these days," I huffed. "Maybe it would be easier if I had giant muscles like you, but it's hard to meet people."

"I think having muscles the size of mine would actually make you less hot."

I couldn't bite back the giggle that slipped from my lips as I looked up at him with a questioning raise of my eyebrows.

"Less hot?" I asked. "That would imply that you think I'm hot now."

"I do," Chris smirked confidently. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words instantly made my cheeks heat up again. I'd baited him into the compliment, but I didn't expect his blunt and honest answer. I was stunned into a momentary silence that only made Chris' smirk grow wider until I giggled once again.

"You're just drunk."

"I am not," Chris chuckled. "Well, maybe a little, but that doesn't change the facts."

There was a grin on my face and I felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Chris Evans just called me gorgeous. Any woman who said they didn't swoon in that situation was probably lying.

"That's very sweet of you to say," I told him, trying to play it cool. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

Chris squeezed my arm again as he flashed me a smile.

My apartment building was in sight now, just half a block away, and I was disappointed that our evening was about to end.

I was comfortable with Chris. He was nice and easy to talk to and I'd had more fun and laughs with him in the last few hours than I'd had throughout most of my last relationship. But despite our harmless flirting, I knew he was too good for me. I knew that I didn't stand a chance with him and that when the alcohol wore off and the sun came up, he would see that. As much as I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I could hardly keep us walking in circles around the block without him noticing so I reluctantly slowed to a stop outside my building.

"This is me..."

Chris looked up and nodded slowly.

"It doesn't look so bad."

"Because it's not!" I insisted. "Honestly, this isn't that bad of a neighbourhood."

"Well, it's not that great either, Whitney."

Another giggle slipped from my lips as I pulled my keys out of my purse, reluctantly slipping my arm from his.

"Your accent makes my name sound funny," I teased. "You don't say Whitney, you say Win-ney."

Chris laughed, but shook his head.

"Now who's drunk."

"Oh, definitely me," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Okay, Winnie, whatever you say."

He said my name wrong on purpose that time, but there was something about it that put a smile on my face. Emboldened by the alcohol and by his flirtatious nature, I decided to take a chance.

"Do you want to come up for a bit?" I asked. "One last drink maybe?"

Chris hesitated, but after a moment of thought, he shook his head.

"Nah, I should probably get home. I think I've had enough drinks for tonight." His solid reasoning eased the blow of rejection slightly, but it still burned me up inside. "Thanks for the invite though, maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time."

"Sure," I nodded, hoping I was masking my disappointment. "That would be nice."

"Great," he grinned before pulling me into a hug. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends."

Friends.

Good friends.

His words echoed in my head as I agreed and slipped out of his grasp. We said our goodbyes, I thanked him for escorting me home and I watched as he walked back down the street before I went inside.

Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.

At least he'd made himself clear and subtly let me down easy before I had chance to form any wrong ideas about what our relationship was or could be. It hurt and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit like a stab in the heart, but I was glad that he'd put me in my place before I made a fool of myself by making a move.

I knew I'd been getting ahead of myself anyway. I knew he was way out of my league, but he'd called me gorgeous and walked me home. He'd even given me a nickname. Maybe I'm just easy to impress, but it felt like he was interested. I guess being a big star in Hollywood requires a certain level of charm though and he was probably just used to being naturally flirtatious with most of the women he encounters.

I sighed as I let myself into my apartment and tossed my bag on the table by the door. I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world only moments earlier and now I was back to feeling like I was a romantic lost cause. I dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for bed and flopped down on top of the blankets - it was too hot to be under them and I didn't have the luxury of air conditioning.

Perhaps it was for the best that Chris declined my invitation to come upstairs, I thought to myself. This apartment was hardly up to Hollywood standards, it was hardly up to my own standards even if it was all that I could afford.

As my head laid on the pillow and my heart sat heavy in my chest, I told myself that it was fine. If Chris wanted to just be friends then I would be grateful that he even wanted that. I made a mental note to send him those pictures in the morning - because I'd promised to and not because I was curious to see what kind of response I would get when he was sober - and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of my new friend.

---

July 2016

And so, we were friends. Good friends, maybe even great friends.

I sent Chris the photos he’d asked for the day after we met and we spent most of that day messaging back and forth. Our friendship only grew from there and, whenever he was in town, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.

But we kept things very much friendly.

There was some flirtatious exchanges, but I respected his wishes and kept the feelings that I'd developed to myself.

My career really took off in the year after we met as well. That first Marvel photo shoot had gone incredibly well which led to several more contracts with them as well as other high profile jobs. It was a long, busy year, but I was grateful and relished in my success.

I'd even managed to move into a new apartment in a much nicer neighbourhood which felt like quite a big achievement and had finally silenced Chris' fretting about my safety. I moved in May, but our busy schedules kept him from seeing my upgraded home for himself until that summer, almost a year after we met. He was returning to L.A. from a trip home to Massachusetts and we hadn't seen each other in months so I was very eager for our reunion. Despite the fact that were still in constant communication, I'd missed him terribly and had been counting down the minutes until he would be arriving at my place.

"So," My friend's voiced echoed through my phone from where it sat on the bathroom counter while I finished curling my hair into beachy waves. "Are you going to finally make a move tonight?"

"No," I scoffed. "Of course not, Hannah. I've not seen him in a while now, I want us to have a good time. I don't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin everything."

"I will bet you a thousand dollars that it wouldn't ruin everything," she insisted. "Honestly, I will give you a thousand dollars if you make a move tonight and it goes badly."

I rolled my eyes as I finished the last curly wave and reached for my hairspray.

"You can't put a price on my friendship with Chris."

"Oh my god," she groaned. "He's told you that he thinks you're gorgeous, he makes time to hang out with you whenever he can and he texts you every single day. He treats you better than any boyfriend you've ever had. How can you think he doesn't have feelings for you?"

I took a moment to spray my hair and give myself one last look over before taking her off speaker and answering the question as I walked towards my kitchen.

"Because he straight up told me that he wants to be friends," I reminded her. "And he's never given me any other signs that he's interested in anything more."

"He doesn't need to give you any signs. When someone looks at you the way that he looks at you that says enough."

"Well, I'm going to need him to say a little more."

Another groan came through the phone as the buzzer to my apartment rang.

"You're impossible."

"I know, I know, and my lack of self-esteem will make me die alone," I said, repeating the words she'd told me a hundred times. "But he's here now, so you're going to have to save your criticisms for another time."

"Just tell him how you feel," she huffed. "I expect a full report in the morning."

The buzzer rang again as I agreed and said my goodbyes to my friend. I took a deep breath and a moment to push Hannah's words from my mind before pressing the button on the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Win, it's me! Let me up."

I pressed the button to unlock the door and felt my lips slide into a cheek aching grin just from the sound of his voice. It had been too long since we'd had a chance to hang out and I was very much looking forward to a nice evening together.

It took him barely a minute to get up to my apartment, knocking twice before letting himself in.

"Hey!" I grinned, rushing towards him as he held his arms open. I threw mine around him as soon as I was close enough and squeezed him tightly. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," he smiled. "Nice place you got here, someone's doing well for themselves."

"Oh, please," I giggled, slipping out of his arms. "I've seen your house, Mr. Evans. This is a dump compared to where you live."

"Nah, this place is great!"

"It's definitely an improvement," I admitted as I led him towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? I bought that beer you like."

"You didn't have to do that. I would have been fine with whatever you have in," he chided me, but I waved him off and assured him it was fine. "What's the plan for tonight anyway?"

I shrugged as I opened the fridge to get a beer out for him and a bottle of wine for myself.

"I don't mind. Do you want to go out for drinks later or just stay here? It is a Saturday so everywhere around here will be packed with women in their early twenties if you'd like your ego stroked a bit."

I was referring to the last time we'd gone out and made the mistake of going to a bar that turned out to be pretty unfriendly to celebrities. A lot of places in L.A. made it easy for celebrities to go under the radar, but the place we'd gone to apparently wasn't one of them. There was a steady stream of beautiful young women trying their luck with Chris all night until we eventually fled and went back to his place just to give him some peace.

Chris laughed, clearly understanding what I was referencing, but he shook his head.

"Honestly? I'd prefer to stay in tonight," he admitted, but a smirk slid onto his face as he very obviously gave me a once over. "But you got all dressed up and it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that on a night in."

"Oh, this old thing?" I glanced down at the short black sundress I was wearing, a blush covering my cheeks from his compliment. "I just put this on in case we did decide to go out, but staying in sounds good to me. I'm well stocked with supplies."

I gestured to the wine and beer on the counter and the few bottles of hard liquor behind them.

"Then we'll stay in?"

"Sure," I nodded as a thought hit me and I gasped with excitement. "Oh, we can sit on my balcony! It over looks the park and I just got a new little couch for it."

"Very fancy," Chris laughed. "You really are doing well for yourself."

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I don’t think Ikea patio furniture is a particularly high aspiration for anyone."

"Don't sell yourself short! You're finally getting recognition for your talent and that's worth celebrating."

I smiled as I led him through the living room and opened the door to my balcony with a flourish. The heat of July in California hit us immediately, but the balcony was shaded which made it a more reasonable temperature.

"This is nice," Chris nodded approvingly. "Well done, Winnie."

He sat on the couch and held his beer up towards me. I gently clinked my glass against it before sitting next to him. I thanked him once I was settled, hiding the width of my grin with my glass as I took a sip.

"So, how was Massachusetts?" I asked, curling my feet underneath me. "Do you have much more time off or are you back at it pretty quick?"

"I've actually got some time off," Chris informed me. "I think I'll probably spend most of it back home. It was great being there the last few weeks. It just feels better than L.A."

"Most places probably feel better than L.A.," I pointed out with a scoff. "This place is exhausting."

"You should come visit some time," Chris suggested before flashing me a smirk. "I feel bad leaving you here when I'm clearly your only friend."

"Excuse me, that is not true!" I protested, my jaw dropping at his insult as he chuckled at his own joke. "I have plenty of friends, thank you very much. All those liquor bottles on the counter are leftover from my very crowded house-warming party."

"Oh, no, Winnie," he laughed, his hand coming up to his chest. "Don't try and provide evidence that you have friends. That makes you seem even more pathetic."

"More pathetic than what? I have friends!"

"Imaginary ones don't count."

I couldn't help, but laugh at that insult as I shook my head.

"You're so rude. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you have no one else." He shot me a very over the top look of pity until I swatted his arm and he dissolved into laughter again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Seriously though, you should come out to Massachusetts sometime. I'll show you around."

"That would be fun," I agreed. "I'm pretty busy with work over the summer, but I think I'm in New York for a shoot in September. I could maybe tie a trip in with that if you're still out there."

"I should be if nothing else comes up," Chris nodded. "And fall is a great time to come. It's gorgeous."

"I bet. It would be nice to experience a season instead of just this sweltering L.A. heat all the time."

I made a face to emphasize my point as I sipped my drink and Chris eyed me suspiciously.

"I can't help, but get the impression that you're not loving it here at the moment..."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Not really. I thought moving into a better apartment would help, but I'm just kinda tired of it, I guess."

"It can be draining here," he nodded. "Have you thought about moving somewhere else?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"Not really. I'd miss my family too much. I'd have to have a good reason, I think, or know someone wherever I was going."

"Well, you'll always know someone in Massachusetts," he smiled. "And my Ma would love you. I'm sure she'd take you in right away."

"Awe, Mama Evans. I'd love to meet her...Mostly so I could demand an apology for her part in raising such a horrible man."

Chris threw his head back with another chest grab worthy laugh.

"Oh man, I know. My brother is pretty awful."

I snorted a laugh at his comeback, but shook my head.

"Scott was delightful the few times I met him," I informed him. "I was clearly talking about you."

"Me?!" He gasped dramatically. "What are you talking about? I'm a total gentleman."

"Imaginary friends don't count," I repeated his words back to him in a very bad impression of his deep voice and Boston accent. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman."

"It's called a joke, Winnie," he teased. "Try having a sense of humour."

I stuck my tongue out at him in response, but I had to admit that the teasing was nice. I really had missed him while he was away and I was relieved that we fell back together so naturally that it was like we'd never been apart.

Our conversation continued to flow well into the night and so did our drinks. A few hours later and several alcoholic beverages down, the temperature was starting to drop a bit as the sun set, but our conversation was just starting to heat up.

"So," Chris turned to me with a smirk as he sipped the tequila sunrise I'd just made for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't like it, that it would be too sweet, but apparently he was too tipsy to really care. "How's your love life these days? Any more trips to Hooters?"

I snorted a laugh as I shook my head.

"I need more alcohol if we're going to delve into my love life."

Mostly because the biggest detriment to my romantic life was currently sitting on the couch with me, but I wasn't going to volunteer that information. Chris nudged the bottom of the glass in my hand, gently enough not to spill any but firmly enough to lift it slightly.

"Drink up then because I'm curious. Especially after a statement like that."

The irony of someone who was very vocal about how much they hated being constantly interrogated and harassed about their love life trying to do that exact thing to me wasn't lost on me, but I knew he'd keep pestering me until I opened up. I did as Chris suggested and took a large swig of my drink before answering him.

"No, there hasn't been any more dates at Hooters lately," I assured him. "But I did go on a date last week that was disappointing in it's own way."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? How so?"

"He turned out to be a Robert Downey Jr. fanboy," I admitted, rolling my eyes as Chris let out a laugh. "It was going well until I made the mistake of mentioning that he's my uncle. He wouldn't shut up about him - stop laughing! - It was awful. Honestly, he went on and on! I eventually asked him if he'd rather be on a date with my uncle than me."

"And what did he say?"

I scowled at the memory.

"He said yes and asked for his number." That admission drew another howl of laughter from Chris and I couldn't help, but giggle along with him despite my shaking head. "Honestly, Chris, it's not funny. I have the worst luck."

"You have the worst taste in men." He corrected and I wondered briefly if he'd be less confident in that statement if he knew that he was my taste, even more so when he continued. "You're only interested in the douchey guys and then you're always shocked when they act like assholes."

"That is so not true!" I protested. "How am I supposed to know they're going to be douche bags? We talk for like two days on a dating app before we meet up and they always seem normal!"

"What was this one's job?"

I cringed and took another big swig of my drink.

"A club promoter."

"Exactly!" Chris groaned. "And hadn't the one before him quit his job to try and get famous on YouTube?"

"Instagram," I corrected. "But, so what? I struggled for a long time before my career went anywhere. You can't judge people by something like that."

"For the most part, I agree with you," Chris nodded. "But there are some careers that only attract a certain kind of person."

I huffed at his logic, but there was some truth to what he was saying.

"Dating is just hard these days," I insisted. "Besides, from what I've seen online lately, you're one to talk about messy relationships."

Now it was Chris' turn to take a gulp of the drink in his hand as he raised an eyebrow at my claim.

"Everything you read about me is bullshit, you know that. I haven't dated anyone lately, people just like to make things up."

"Oh, what I was reading the other day wasn't really about who you were dating."

That got his attention as he shot me a surprised look.

"What was it about then?"

"I thought it was all bullshit?" I smirked. "Does it matter what it was if it's not true?"

Chris shrugged.

"Even if it's not true, I like to know what people are saying about me."

"And you don't have a team to provide you with that information?"

"I do," he nodded. "But they don't tell me everything so I'd love to know what you read."

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy about disclosing what I'd seen. I took a moment to figure out how to say it before telling him.

"I stumbled across an article that claimed an anonymous source, who recently spent the night with you, told them that you are not particularly skilled at going down on a woman."

Chris' jaw dropped and I couldn't help, but laugh again at the outrage on his face.

"That's fuckin' bullshit!" He protested. "Why would anyone believe an anonymous source? It's obviously not true! Why would they even write that?"

I smirked again as I tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside me. Of course, I didn't believe an anonymous source and I felt bad for Chris that mean rumours like that were being spread around the internet, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease him about it anyway.

"I don't know. She must have had some kind of proof, they wouldn't have published it without fact checking."

"They absolutely would!" Chris laughed incredulously. "They publish anything that gets clicks!"

I shrugged and tried to stifle the giggles still fighting to come out.

"It seemed pretty believable to me. I'm not trying to be mean, but maybe just take the criticism and use it to grow."

"I don't need to use it to grow!" He insisted. "I have plenty of skills in that area, I've never had any complaints."

"Until now."

"It's not true!"

"Unfortunately, I'll never know..."

I froze, hearing my words echo through my head as Chris' eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before a twinkle appeared. It was a simple statement, but we both picked up on what it implied, especially with the hint of intrigue, almost challenge, in my voice.

Chris tossed back the last of his drink and then shifted, sitting up a bit straighter as the look of annoyance on his face had changed into something almost cocky. I took a sip of my own drink, hoping to drown the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach as the cool evening breeze suddenly did nothing to ease the heat that surrounded us.

"Well, how am I suppose to prove it to you?"

He moved his hand until it was resting on my knee and I had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. We were fairly affectionate and much more touchy with each other than many friends were, but this felt different. There was a tension between us now and I swallowed hard, not wanting the alcohol in my system to make me misinterpret anything.

"I don't know." I bit my lip as he stared me down, a smirk back on his face now. "Why don't you de-describe it?"

Demonstrate.

Demonstrate was the word that I was looking for, the word that was on the tip of my tongue.

Describe was not quite as flirtatious. It was like I'd just set him some kind of essay assignment. I cringed, but Chris was unfazed as he chuckled and nodded his head.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Where should I start?"

Before I even had time to answer, he began his explanation.

His voice was low as he spoke, sparing no detail. He described every kiss, every touch and every little tease. By the time he was describing how much he liked to watch whoever was he was pleasuring, looking up from where his face was buried to see her orgasm roll through her body, I was almost shamelessly panting. His hand was still on my leg, stroking higher and higher on my thigh and I felt more aroused from his words than I had from the last few sexual encounters that I'd had.

He was watching me when he finished speaking, a smirk on his face and his eyes narrowed in a seductive stare as I took a shaky breath.

It was now or never.

Tossing back the last of my drink, I put my glass on the table. Then, I took the glass in his hand and did the same.

He was watching me the whole time, meeting my eyes as I sat back on the couch. My mind was running a mile a minute as the gravity of the situation hit me, but I tried to push all thoughts of doubt from my head as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes flicked down to watch the movement and that was all the confirmation I needed.

I darted forward fast enough that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and pressed my lips against his.

There was a brief moment when he froze. I felt his hand tense on my thigh and his body seemed more rigid than it had moments ago, but he recovered quickly and a low growl came from his throat before his hands moved to my waist and effortlessly lifted me into his lap.

I gasped at the movement, momentarily taking my lips away from his, but before I could even mumble out any comments on his strength, he'd pressed our lips together again.

It was a sloppy kiss. Spurred on by our mounting tension and the panic bubbling inside me that any minute now he would change his mind and push me away in disgust, our movements were frantic and desperate. My hands slid around his neck, one moving up to the back of his head as if I needed to hold him in place, but his fingers digging into my waist made me think that he was having the same thought.

Eventually though, the need for air forced us apart and I rested my forehead against his as we fought to catch our breath. The pause in our actions gave my brain time to catch up to my body and I immediately felt the nerves kick in.

Logically, I knew we should slow things down and talk about what this meant. My feelings for Chris went deeper than a drunken hook up and I was setting myself up for heartbreak if he wasn't on the same page. However, there was a more impulsive part of my brain that didn't care. I'd wanted this for so long, surely I deserved a chance to just enjoy it.

As if Chris could read my mind, his deep voice cut through my thoughts.

"Are we really doing this?"

I bit my lip, knowing this was the time to voice any concerns that I had, but as I stared into his eyes, I couldn't make myself jeopardize the moment.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm in if you are?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face as he nodded as well.

"I've been waiting almost a whole fuckin' year for this," he admitted. "I'm absolutely in."

I felt my heart flutter at his confession. If he'd been waiting for this as long as I had then that must have meant that we were on the same page. No one waits that long for a meaningless fuck, he would have made a move by now if there wasn't more to it.

In an effort to silence my overactive brain, I pressed my lips back against his which proved to be the perfect distraction. All worries and cares slipped from my mind as his tongue slipped back into my mouth and his hands drifted down to cup my ass. I could practically feel them burning through my thin dress and as they squeezed slightly, pressing my hips closer towards his, I could tell that my panties were already much damper than was probably reasonable.

But the anticipation was practically killing me.

My body felt like it was on fire as every brush of his tongue, every caress of my skin, every sigh that fell from his lips against my mouth, had me writing against him like a cat in heat. Often, when I'd imagined what this moment would be like, I'd assumed it would be slow - we'd take our time and savour every touch - but I hadn't factored in just how desperate we'd both be or how quickly I would be filled with the absolute need for there to be less layers of fabric between us.

Chris sucked in a deep breath as his lips moved from mine, sliding lower to kiss along my jaw. I could feel a bulge growing between us, telling me that he was as overeager as I was so, as shivers tingled down my spine from the trail his mouth was taking, I fought through the distractions to speak.

"Chris," I panted. "Let's go inside."

His lips paused their movement as he nuzzled into my neck.

"Not much of an exhibitionist?"

"Not on the first date."

My words were teasing and a shrug of my shoulders accompanied my response, earning a chuckle from Chris.

"Alright, that's fair."

I nudged his head away from my skin so I could press another soft kiss to his lips.

My intention was to then climb off of his lap and lead him into my apartment, but he had other ideas as his hands slid under my thighs and his grip tightened. With one smooth motion and an impressive show of strength, he stood from the couch and lifted me up with him. I gasped and rushed to wrap my legs around his waist for stability, but the smirk on his face and the bulge of his bicep told me that it probably wasn't necessary. He was incredibly strong and it sent another flush of arousal through me at the thought of the beautifully sculpted physique under his clothes.

"Are you bulking up for Cap again?"

I mumbled the words in an attempt to keep my mind busy and stop myself before I started rubbing myself against his stomach. With the way my legs were positioned there was merely a shirt and my panties between us and it was entirely too tempting.

"Nah, got a month or two before that starts again," he informed me, quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

I pointed him towards the door of my bedroom before answering as I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.

"So, you're like, always this strong?"

Chris chuckled slightly as he kicked my bedroom door open.

"Well, I'm no club promoter," he teased. "But I do tend to stay at a certain level of fitness for when the job does require it."

My jaw dropped at his audacity to bring that up again at a moment like this, but I couldn't stop the snort of laughter that slipped out.

"Shut up," I demanded, letting my thumb stroke against the soft skin on the back of his neck. "Before I come to my senses and ask you to leave."

Now it was Chris' turn to laugh as he gently tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me like a lion stalking it's prey.

"C'mon," he smirked as he hovered over me. "I think we both know that the last thing you want me to do right now is leave."

With that, he pressed his lips back against mine before I had chance to argue. Not that I would have, because he was absolutely right. There was a long list of things I wanted him to do, but leaving was not one of them. In fact, as I let my arms slid over his toned shoulders, I pulled him even closer.

I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to hear every little grunt and moan, I wanted to feel every inch of his body against mine, I wanted to see his muscles quiver and twitch with pleasure, I wanted him inside me and we'd barely even started. A year of waiting would make anyone desperate and, as much as I was revelling in his talented mouth as it moved against my own, I was eager to see what else he could do with it.

Sliding my hands down along his back, I ran them over his waist until they were at the hem of his shirt and, in an attempt to move things along, I slid them back up over his stomach, bringing his shirt with them. I paused, taking a moment to trace over his abs and he chuckled, moving his lips down to nuzzle them into my neck.

"That tickles," he mumbled against my skin as I smiled.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that these muscles are real."

"They are," he smiled up at me. "Are you impressed?"

"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile of my own. "I'll be more impressed if you get these clothes out of the way and let me admire you properly."

He chuckled again, but didn't fight as I pulled his shirt over his head. The light in the room was dim and the way we were positioned didn't give me an optimal view, but what I could see was enough to draw a soft gasp from my lips.

I'd seen him shirtless and in even less from a few sneaky Google searches and watching his old movies, but seeing it all right in front of me was quite a treat. I had to double check that I wasn't drooling at the sight as I openly stared, my mouth slightly agape.

I realized I was probably ogling him a little too long when a faint blush covered his cheeks and he ducked his head back against my neck. He placed another soft kiss against my skin before he spoke.

"Now, it's your turn."

"Okay," I agreed, swallowing hard. "But just keep in mind that I don't look like that."

I ran my hands up and down his sides to emphasize what I was referring to and I felt more than heard him chuckle as he peered up at me once more.

"I'd be disappointed if we had the same upper body," he teased. "I mean, if I'm being honest."

I rolled my eyes despite the smile on my face.

"You know what I mean," I insisted. "I'm not sculpted by the Gods like you are."

His head fell back against my shoulder as he shook with laughter before shaking his head.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured me. "You're too hard on yourself. You're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words took me back to the first night we met as the sincerity in his voice was the same as it had been back then. And there was something about the confidence with which he spoke that had me believing him.

So, as his hands slid under my dress - teasing the outside of my thighs in a way that had me biting my lip to force back a moan - I pushed any negative thoughts or doubts about myself from my mind. I even felt a hint of pride when my dress was discarded, exposing my lack of bra, and making Chris' eyes darken as they scoured over my body.

"Fuck, Winnie," he groaned as he soaked in the sight of my exposed chest. "You're beautiful."

I felt my heart flutter at the genuine awe in his voice and at his word choice. Gorgeous, hot, sexy - those are all compliments I would have loved to receive from him, but beautiful. It seemed deeper, more romantic. There was a brief reminder from the voice in my head that perhaps the importance of such a simple word was a signal I shouldn't be moving forward with this without having a very serious conversation about feelings first, but I was quick to ignore it as I pulled Chris back to my lips.

It seemed he was as desperate to move things along as I was though as his mouth didn't linger against mine for very long before it was trailing a path down my neck. He paused when he got to my chest, letting out a groan as he nuzzled the skin before sucking it just hard enough to leave a faint mark when he moved back. The sight had me squirming beneath him and he shot me a smirk before moving his lips to my nipple.

Gasping at the sensation, I arched up towards him as he continued to nip and tease me. If his current actions were anything to go by then whoever wrote the article that I read was very sorely mistaken. He appeared to be incredibly talented with his mouth and by the time he moved away from my nipple to continue his path down my body, my chest was heaving and I was sure that I was just one gentle touch away from my peak.

However, I was disappointed when he got to the top of my panties and, after licking along the skin of my lower stomach, pushed himself up and moved off of me to stand at the foot of my bed. I whined in protest, wanting him as close to me as possible, but all I got was a smirk in response.

"Patience," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans.

I wanted to pout, to argue that I'd been patient enough in the last year, but any complaints died on my tongue as he pushed his jeans to the floor. As he stood in front of me, only in his underwear, my sense of urgency was replaced by an appreciation for the chance to admire his chiselled body. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better view and he chuckled at the look of wonder that I was sure was on my face.

His underwear was the next thing to go and the anticipation turned quickly to shock as my jaw dropped at what he revealed. I could have assumed from the large bulge that he was quite well-endowed, but seeing it confirmed sent a whole new flush of arousal through me. I mumbled out a 'wow' as I bit my lip and tried to take it all in - he truly was a gorgeous man.

"Like what you see?"

His question snapped me out of my daze as he knelt back down on the end of the bed.

"Very much so," I nodded, desperate to feel his body over mine once again. "Come back up here."

"No," Chris grinned as he ducked down to place a kiss on my ankle. "Not yet."

Again, part of me wanted to argue and demand that he return his mouth to mine and get things moving, but before I could even open my mouth, he made his intentions clear - by tracing his fingers up my leg with his lips close behind.

I was quivering under his touch, still leaning up on my elbows when he reached the edge of the panties I was wearing. He glanced up at me as he licked along the lace before he bit into the material and tugged. I lifted my hips to ease his struggle as he yanked my panties down my legs with his teeth. The sight of it had me squeezing my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction, but as soon as my underwear joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, he was quick to pull my legs apart again.

"Keep 'em open for me," he demanded, that damn smirk still firmly on his face. "I've got something to prove."

I giggled at that statement, but did as he asked. I was still watching his movements, until he dipped his head forehead and pressed his lips against me. That first moment of contact was enough to have my head flopping back against the pillows as my hands shot down to grip his hair. I was vaguely aware of him mumbling something about how wet I was, but my brain was too busy trying to process the pleasure he was giving me to take in his words.

He wasted no time demonstrating everything that he'd described to me earlier that night. His tongue was focused and precise in its movements and, contrary to what I read, he clearly knew what he was doing as he easily narrowed in on my clit. It wasn't enough though. I needed more pressure, more friction, and I pushed up towards him with a moan on my lips to urge him on. He wasn't having any of that as his hands looped under my thighs to settle on my hips, holding me in place, but he increased the pressure as he apparently understood what I needed despite my lack of ability to verbalize it.

I immediately felt a familiar feeling starting to build.

He sucked and licked with an urgency that I very much appreciated, flicking his tongue in just the right spot at just the right speed to have me trembling beneath him. I managed to gasp out a warning 'oh god' as my hands gripped his hair even tighter and I fell apart into a puddle of whimpers and moans. My orgasm hit me more fiercely than I'd imagined in my wildest fantasies of this moment and I arched up against him, his name pouring from my lips like a chant as he continued his efforts with a low groan of his own only adding to my pleasure.

As my breathing started to slow, Chris gently ceased his movements and moved his head back before resting his chin on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me.

"Well?"

"I'm going to write my own article," I told him, feeling that wonderful post peak bliss wash over me. "Because someone was obviously very misinformed."

Chris chuckled before pulling his hands from my hips to plant them on the bed and drag himself back over me.

"I'm glad I exceeded expectations."

"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement as his lips hovered above mine. "Now, let's see what else you can do."

Chris flashed me a smile and kissed me briefly before leaning back just enough to reach down and take his cock in his hand. Another moan fell from my lips as he rubbed it against me for a moment before nudging against my entrance and finally pressing inside. He moved slowly, but even so, I winced at the sensation. The slight burn as I stretched around him felt good but there was an undeniable ache as well. Sensing my hesitation, Chris paused and dropped his head for another soft kiss. I waited a moment, until the initial spark of discomfort had passed before pressing my hips up towards him.

He took the hint and continued his slow, almost torturous, movement until he was fully inside. The burning pain returned as it felt like he was taking up every inch of space I had to offer, but it felt incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed against my neck where his head had settled again. "You're tight..."

He shifted his hips pulling another gasp from my lips.

"Only because you're huge."

I felt a puff of laughter before he nipped at my shoulder.

"Thank you."

I would have smacked him for his cocky tone, but he moved then and suddenly my mind was blank of anything other than how good it felt. His movements were slow at first, every thrust dragging every inch of him against every nerve inside me, but his restraint quickly waned as his pace increased.

I let out a moan as my head fell back against the pillows and I hitched my leg higher on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of my thigh to hold it in place as he built a steady rhythm that had us both panting as I fought to match his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his short beard rubbed against my skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was like he was completely encompassing me, smothering all of my senses and I could feel the pressure building again in the pit of my stomach in a way that it all felt like too much, but not enough all at the same time. I clenched around him, earning a groan of approval from Chris as I swore I could feel him twitch inside me. The pleasure was building quickly and his thrusts got sloppier and more frantic until suddenly he pulled out of me completely.

I felt empty and immediately wanted him back inside of me, my disappointment only growing as he pushed himself up to kneel back on his heels. The only compensation was how good he looked, muscles tight and his cock hard, practically throbbing and shiny from my being drenched in my wetness.

"Turn over," he instructed, his raspy voice bringing me back to the task at hand.

It took a moment for me to process his words, but I giggled as soon as I did.

"What?" He asked, a smile on his face.

"Nothing," I laughed again as I pushed myself up to do as he asked. "You just really are 'clearly' an ass man."

A look of realization crossed his face as he cringed slightly, his hand pausing from where he had reached down to stroke himself. I settled on my knees with my back to him as he answered.

"You heard about that?"

He was referring to the comments that he made on Anna Faris' podcast and I nodded my head.

"Everyone heard about that," I teased.

He chuckled, but didn't deny it as I leaned forward to rest on my hands. The wetness between my legs felt cool from the air in the room and I suddenly felt very exposed, knowing what the view must look like from his position. Again, my worries were brief though as his hands settled on my ass, kneading and squeezing as he let out a low groan.

"With an ass like this though, can you blame me?" He asked, sliding the fingers of one hand down towards the part of me that was practically throbbing with need. My head fell forward as he gently brushed over my clit before sinking two fingers inside me. It wasn't enough, not after the stretch of his cock, but he moved them with almost criminal precision against a spot that made me tense as I moaned with pleasure. "You've been drivin' me wild ever since that night we met. Those black jeans were so tight, it was like you were poured into 'em."

His words were muttered low and quiet and as much as I appreciated the compliment, I was such a puddle of mush from the movement of his fingers that I couldn't string together a sentence in response. He kept talking, whispering words of encouragement and adoration and it only added to my pleasure, but it wasn't until his thumb pressed against my clit that I felt myself start to bubble over. With a cry that I hoped served as a warning of my impending climax, I arched my back to press myself further towards him.

"Atta girl, Winnie..."

His breath was hot against the cheek of my ass and he continued his actions, placing a soft kiss on my skin. I was close, so close, but just not quite there until he did something that surprised me and sank his teeth into the spot his mouth was resting on. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to leave a mark and it was definitely enough to send me over the edge. Moaning out his name again as I pressed back towards him, I felt myself quivering around his fingers as the pleasure tore through my body.

My elbows were quaking with effort as they tried to hold me up while he kept his fingers gently working until my orgasm came to an end. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but I knew I wanted him inside me again so I shot him a look over my shoulder.

"Chris," I panted. "Fuck me, please."

His eyes darkened at my request, but he wasted no time, quickly shifting until he was positioned behind me and sliding himself back inside. He felt even bigger in our new position and his need was made clear as his hands settled on my hips to use them as leverage, thrusting into me at a much more frantic pace than he had before.

The stretch and feel of him deep inside me had me moaning and arching my back once again, but I was doubtful that I would reach another peak - until Chris slid one of his hands from my hip, over my stomach and back down to my clit. The sensation combined with his movements and all the noises pouring from his mouth had a tightness in my stomach forming again with shocking speed. It was just shy of overwhelming as my two previous orgasms had left me feeling rather sensitive already, but when Chris picked up the pace even more, his grunts and groans getting more desperate, I leaned into the sensation. It only took a minute or two more before he finally pressed himself deep inside me, stilling as he let out a low moan and I followed him over the edge once more.

After a few final thrusts through his release, Chris leaned forward to press his chest against my back. I could feel how hard he was breathing and soaked in the moment of bliss until my arms finally gave out underneath me. We landed in a heap face down on the bed, but Chris quickly rolled off of me before pulling me tight against his side.

"Wow," he breathed out. "Winnie, that was...wow."

I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.

"It was," I agreed. "I take back any doubts about your abilities."

He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Thanks," he smiled as I peered up at him until he let a yawn slip out. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"

His question made my own smile widen even more.

"Of course not!"

He breathed out a sigh of relief at my words as I felt a wave of reassurance myself. He wanted to stay. He wasn't about to rush out the door the moment we were done and I filed that information away as more evidence that we were on the same page.

I felt like I should get up - to use the bathroom and offer my guest some water - but our activities had my whole body feeling like jelly. I was vaguely aware of a mumbled 'goodnight' from Chris, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before I could even respond.

The next morning as I slowly woke up, it took me a moment to remember why I was naked and why there was a pleasant, but very noticeable ache between my thighs. As the memory came back to me, a smile slid onto my face, but when I rolled over to find the bed empty, a flicker of worry sparked in the pit of my stomach. Especially when a glance at the clock told me that it was only seven in the morning. We couldn't have fallen asleep much before one so there was no good reason for him to be out of bed already.

I called out his name, hopeful that he would respond, but I wasn't entirely surprised when he didn't. The dread I was feeling intensified at the silence around me and I dragged myself out of bed with the intention of checking if he was in the bathroom or perhaps back out on the balcony. However, the sight of what was on the floor, or more accurately what wasn’t on the floor, made me pause. My dress and panties were laying where they'd been tossed, but his clothes were no where to be seen.

Trying to keep a level head, I quickly pulled on the oversized shirt that I usually slept in and ventured out of my bedroom, but my fears were quickly confirmed. My apartment was empty.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I desperately tried to rationalize his disappearance. Maybe he woke up early and went out to get us breakfast and coffee? The dull throbbing in my head told me that I could certainly use a good shot of caffeine and it was a pretty safe bet that he was feeling the same. But, when he didn't return after half an hour, I assumed that theory was just an optimistic wish.

After forty-five minutes of sitting on my couch, watching the door - willing it to open and for Chris to appear - I sent him a text. I tried to keep it low key and chill, but after another hour of staring at my phone, the words "Hey, where'd you go?" started to seem more and more desperate.

By ten o'clock with no response and no sign of Chris returning, I accepted the situation for what it was.

He wasn't coming back.

It was a drunken mistake that he clearly regretted.

We'd risked our entire relationship for one night of wonderful, incredible, but meaningless sex and he didn't even have the guts to stick around long enough to talk to me about it.

One stupid night and I'd lost one of my best friends.

The thought brought tears to my eyes and, before I could stop myself, I was blubbering like a baby as I curled up on my couch. I was devastated and heartbroken. I'd let myself believe that maybe he wanted me the same way that I wanted him because we were so close and I never would have imagined that he would let it go that far just to ditch me in the morning without even a goodbye. Surely, after a year of such strong friendship, I deserved more than that.

But no matter how stupid and naive I felt in that moment, nothing would compare to the level of utter foolishness I felt later that day when I was tiding up and realized that there wasn't a condom in sight.

Part Two

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans one shot #once bitten/more hearts

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harryhandstan · 4 years ago

Text

so..I hate that this is so late but happy to finally have this done and be posting it for y’all! hope you enjoy! thank you to my betas @tbslenthusiast, @serendipitystyles, and @summertimestyles you’re all angels!! also sham was so kind to help me create a playlist for this fic which you can find here!

this is for @taintedwonder‘s Styles Valentine’s Day fic challenge and most of the photos from the header were my inspo along with prompts 3. Can you just hold my hand? and 6. Let’s run away together.

as always any likes, rbs, replies, and feedback is welcome and very much appreciated!

word count: 4.1k

writing tag | masterlist

You can read his face before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“You have to leave again, don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer at first, just joins you where you sit on the bed, an arm around your waist to urge you closer to him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, as if that will soothe the sting of what he’s about to say. He buries his face into your neck before he speaks.

“Only for a little while, angel.”

You don’t respond by returning the kiss like you normally would, narrowing your eyes down to where he’s hiding his face, “How long is a ‘little while’?��

“You could always come with me, y’know..”

He’s avoiding the answer and he knows it, eyes darting up only briefly to look at your face.

“How long, Harry?”

He’s fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt now, focusing on the loose thread hanging instead.

You nudge him lightly, pulling his attention back up to you, “Just say it! How long?”

He sucks in a big breath before releasing it and then the words come out in a rush, “A few weeks, possibly a month.”

You have to take your own deep breath before asking, “When do you have to leave?”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“Promise.”

“My flight’s on the 14th.”

“February 14th? As in we don’t get to spend Valentine’s Day together?”

“M’so sorry, love, I really thought we were gonna get to spend the day together.”

He’s pulled back from where he was hiding his face, studying yours now. It hurts him to see the disappointment written there; the pinch in your brow, the downturned corners of your mouth, the way your eyes have temporarily lost their shine and fallen misty.

“Ya really could come with me, y’know. Take a bit of time off, would do you some good to take a break.”

He knows better, knows it’s just a fantasy that you would ever be able to get that much time off from work to be able to travel with him.

“C’mon, love, let’s run away together.”

The way he’s looking at you know, it really wouldn’t take much more convincing to turn his fantasy into a reality.

“What am I gonna do when I’m cold and don’t have you as my personal heater to help me get warm?”

“S’why I left you my pillow to snuggle with. There’s a ton of extra blankets too, use as many of those as ya need.”

How could you explain that no amount of warmth from any blanket would ever compare to his? A blanket wasn’t capable of softly brushing your hair back from your face or tenderly pressing it’s lips to yours as you drift off to sleep. You open your mouth to try to illustrate such facts, but you close your mouth just as quick. You aren’t trying to be difficult or clingy, and you don’t want your last bit of time together to be filled with your complaints.

That thought only lasts for a moment, your anxiety building with each mile closer to the airport, “Well what do I do when your pillow doesn’t smell like you anymore?”

“I’ll try to be back before that happens, deal? Besides, you’ve got a whole drawer of my t-shirts to sleep in too. They all smell like me, right?”

“They do, but, Harry..what if..”

“Shh, hey, we’ve been through this before, right? S’gonna be hard for me to be away from you too, but I promise we’ll be alright. You can call me anytime you’re missin’ me, remember?”

His voice is that of someone trying to pacify a small child just before a tantrum, and you feel as though you’re being whiny and unreasonable. Missing him when he was away was almost unbearable though; everything seemed heavy and dimmer and you know it would feel like an eternity before you were together again.

“Promise we’ll make up today the second I come home. You plan the whole day and just tell me when and where to show up, okay?��

The fact that it was Valentine’s Day didn’t matter so much to you. You and Harry made it a point throughout your days spent together to express your love to one another whenever you could, so today was really just..another day to spend together. So it’s missing him that has tears forming in your eyes again, just as they had the night before.

“Can you just hold my hand? Until..” You don’t finish the sentence, letting your voice trail off so he won’t hear it break.

“‘Course I can, baby.” He offers his hand, never taking his eyes off the road even as he lifts your hand to his mouth to place a kiss to the back of it.

Though you know he would never admit to it, you swear you feel the speed of the car slow just the tiniest bit, Harry wanting to add as much to your limited time together as he can.

Despite it still being light outside, coming home to the space you normally share together alone makes you want to do nothing but crawl right back in bed. It’s mid-afternoon and with Harry not home to motivate you to do something more productive, that’s exactly what you aim to do.

After dropping your purse and keys near the door and double checking the locks, you’re startled by the sight of a bouquet of bright pink roses adorning your dining room table. They definitely weren’t there when you left, and you pluck the small card nestled between the flowers with your name scrawled across the front. It’s Harry’s almost illegible handwriting and the sight of it makes your heart soar with excitement before you flip it open to read the message.

It’s simple and small, more of his writing scratched across the cream colored paper in bold, black ink. Love, love, love, H. There’s a badly drawn heart underneath the note, and that makes you giggle out loud, filling the silence. If Harry were here, he’d have some cheeky comment about how adorable your laughter is, how he loved the sound of it.

“Don’t want you moping around the whole time m’gone, yeah? Promise me y’ll do more than just sulk around the place until I get back?” This reminder was given just before he’d had to rush off to catch his plane, giving you no time to offer him much more than a quick peck and a sad smile as an agreement.

So technically what you plan to do would not be considered breaking a promise, just..catching up on the sleep you would’ve gotten if you hadn't had to wake up so early to ride with Harry to the airport. Normally that was something you would decline to do, preferring to sleep in, which Harry usually was fine with; but this time he had insisted on you accompanying him on his drive, wanting to get as much time with you on this day as he could.

Just as you're about to venture down the hallway to the bedroom, you spot another item you’re sure hadn’t been on your coffee table earlier that morning when you’d left. It’s a medium sized box, messily wrapped with red paper and tied with purple ribbon and a bow. It’s quite heavy when you lift it, so you sit on the nearby couch to avoid dropping it. You waste no time tearing the paper away, lifting the lid to reveal a candle surrounded by tissue paper.

There’s a pack of two lighters wedged next to the candle, and you curiously pull it from the box first to see more of Harry’s handwriting on a red sticky note.

Baby you light up my world like nobody else...

That pulls another laugh from you, this one is bigger and echoes through the dimly lit space. The candle itself is a scent he knows you love, and you bring it closer to your face and inhale deeply. The smell of it helps ease even more of the unease and sadness of him being gone. You dig your phone out of your pocket to check the time and try to calculate whether his plane has landed and he would be able to answer a call from you.

You ultimately decide to nap first and give him a chance to get settled. He would most likely be calling you later anyway, missing you just as much as you missed him and wanting to hear your voice. You could thank him then for the flowers, candle, and the laugh. So you continue your journey to the bedroom, slipping out of your clothes and sliding open the drawer of Harry’s t-shirts. He’s right, they do all smell like him and you run your fingers along the soft fabrics before selecting one.

It’s plain white, one of his undershirts normally tucked beneath his expensive button ups and ruffles, but today it’s perfect and comforting attire to doze off in. It’s loose and just long enough on you that you don’t feel the need to put on a pair of your pj shorts with it, The bed is still messy from the morning, and you swear you can still see the outline of where Harry’s body normally tucks next to you on his side. You pull the blanket back and crawl into your usual spot, but it doesn’t feel right; it’s too empty and quiet without Harry.

You grab his pillow from his side and try your best to replicate the way you would curl yourself around him if he was here. It takes a bit of time to adjust, but eventually you give up and just try to relax into the mattress as much as possible, covering your head slightly with the blanket to surround yourself with warmth.

You peek through the space uncovered to the alarm clock on the bedside table on Harry’s side, the bright red letters read 12:32 p.m. and you let out a deep sigh before drifting off to sleep. If you weren’t so tired, the thought that crosses your mind might just make you laugh again.

Alone in bed in the afternoon on Valentine’s Day. What a shame.

You wake with a start, bolting upwards at the sound of your phone ringing loudly from somewhere near the bed. You don’t even bother to open your eyes to see who it is, just following the motions to answer and plop back down onto your spot as you let out an almost breathless and groggy “hello?”

“Not missin’ me too much, I see, took you a whole minute to answer,'' You know he’s joking by the hint of amusement in his voice and relief floods through your chest before any other feeling at the idea of him making it safely to his destination, “You alright, love? Sound a bit outta breath. Having some fun in our bed without me?”

“I..no, I was napping, promise, your call just scared me awake..how did you know I’m in bed?”

“I’m only teasing. Just a guess, figured you’d find your way back to the bed not long after you got home.”

“Found the flowers and the candle. Your note on the lighters made me laugh, thank you. How’d you do that though? They weren’t there when we left for the airport and you didn’t come back in.”

“Had one of my assistants drop the flowers off, and the candle’s been stashed in the closet for a week so she set it out for me while she was there. Wish I could’ve been there to see your face and hear that laugh,” He giggles at the thought of it, “S’that all you found? The flowers and the candle? I assume you found the one in the bathroom too, right?”

You’re more alert now, sitting up again to try to process what he’s saying more easily, “What do you mean? There’s more? The bathroom?”

“A few more, yeah. Hid here and there for you to find.”

“You left me a scavenger hunt? Do I at least get clues to help me find them all?”

“I’ve just given you one, haven’t I? Might be persuaded to give you a few more later.”

You’re up off the bed now, making your way to the bathroom where another surprise awaits. You hesitate for only a moment, stopping just as you reach the door.

“What’s in the bathroom? More flowers? One of those big, fluffy teddy bears?”

“M’not gonna tell you! You gotta go in to find out!”

Flipping on the light switch has you gasping at what you see. A heart, entirely made from more red sticky notes, each one embellished with reminders of his love for you. You stumble over words, trying to form a coherent response.

He senses your shock even through the phone and graciously gives you a moment before asking, “S’the heart all wonky or does it look nice? Told them to make it as straight as possible.”

“H..it’s beautiful! How did you have time to write all these before you left?”

“Finished up most of them last night after you fell asleep. They came to me a lot easier with my muse snoring next to me.”

You truly don’t know what to say to that. You’ve never had someone be so bright and loud with their love for you and just this simple expression makes you feel so incredibly special and loved.

You know that emotion is flowing through the phone when he speaks again, softer and lower, “Y’sure you won’t let me fly you out here to be with me?”

There’s the sound of another voice before Harry barks out another laugh, “Jeff says m’proper miserable without you. He said he’d pay you whatever your salary would be for the next month just to have you here.”

“Tempting, but..” Harry knows how much you love your job and how such a long absence would jeopardize the career you’ve built, so you know he probably won’t mention it again.

“Technically it was gonna be part of my present for you, so..I’ll give you another clue.”

“How very generous of you, H. Will this one make me cry too?”

“Maybe. Knowing you, probably,” You roll your eyes but listen for further instructions, “Just remember I had to rush and there’s still a few I didn’t get to add but, go get your laptop.”

“What’d you do to my laptop?”

“Would ya just go get it? C’mon I’ve gotta hang up soon and I wanna hear your reaction before I hafta go.”

“Alright, I got it. What now?”

“Go to your music library.” He gives you a moment to navigate through your programs, “Should be a playlist there with your name on it, lovie. Wait, are you already crying?”

“Shut up! Yes!” You wipe at your eyes with the hem of his t-shirt you’re still wearing as you try to read over the list of songs, “This is so sweet! The flowers, the candle, the heart and now this. Harry..I didn’t get you anything and you did all this for me. Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you more,” You can just picture the smug smile on his face, pleased that he’s done a good job of surprising you, “You can make it up to me later.”

“Don’t push your luck there, H. You’ve just been forgiven, I still have time to change my mind, you know.”

“I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” You hear what you assume to be Jeff’s voice again in the background, “I gotta go, babe. I’ll try to call again later, alright?”

“Wait! I don’t get any more clues? Can you at least tell me how many more are left?”

“S’no fun for me if I give away all my secrets now, is it?”

It’s only a day later when you find yourself in the kitchen, uncertain about what to make for dinner, eyes scanning over the ingredients in your pantry. Your laptop sits on the counter nearby, and you hum along to My Girl playing through the speakers, a song selected for you by Harry for the playlist he recently made for you.

You’re about to give up and heat up your leftovers from the Italian take-out you had treated yourself to the night before, when you spot the pack of Haribo gummy bears wedged in the corner. You almost have to stand on your tip-toes to reach it, and when you run your hand along the shelf you find another bag of sweets not far from the gummy bears. You smile down at the two bags, his favorite candy and yours sitting side by side.

There’s another of Harry’s red sticky notes on the pack of gummy bears: Being away from you is unBEARable. More of his cheesy jokes you’re sure he thought of himself. Your candy is void of any words, just another messily drawn heart, this time with your name in the middle.

You decide to FaceTime him this time, wanting to see his face. It only takes 3 rings for him to answer, a tender “Hi, baby.” falling from his lips. The room he’s in is dimly lit, but you can still see him well enough to notice his hair is damp. His curls are more pronounced than usual, which was a sign he’d been too tired to much more than probably run his fingers through after his shower.

“Found another of your surprises.” You hold the candy up for him to see and he smiles.

“Better save me some of those Haribo, and not just all the colors ya don’t like either.”

You tear open the bag, sticking your tongue out at him before popping a few into your mouth, “I might, if you tell me where all the other surprises are.”

You can see him temporarily consider it, biting his bottom lip and meeting your gaze before he shakes his head, “Nah. I will tell you there’s only one more though..well, depends on how you look at it, but to me they only count as one.”

“They?”

He mimics locking his lips, and you decide to drop it for now, knowing you would most likely have to trick or beg him to tell you later. You’d let him think he won. For now.

You roll the top of the bag of candy down, opening the cabinet to tuck them back into the same corner you found them in. They just didn’t taste the same without him there to enjoy them with you. Plus you still had a still had leftover garlic knots and mushroom ravioli you planned to dig into later.

“S’that the playlist I made for you? Sounds like it.”

The song has changed to At Last, Etta James’ voice filling the small kitchen, “Yeah. I love this song.”

“Me too. Reminds me of you now..my love,” You sway a bit to the music before stopping, leaning forward to where your phone is propped on the counter, “Wish I was there t’dance with you.”

You try your best to hold back your emotions of missing him, but you imagine how he would rest his hands on your hips if was here. How he would spin you to face him and move his hands to rest on your back while he led you around in a slow circle across the floor. It wasn’t just his hands you longed for, it was the way he would bend to your ear to sing along to whatever song you were dancing to, especially one like this he knew you loved. You missed his voice in person, the way it would surround you with a comfort and peace you’d never be able to replicate with anything else.

No matter what you do you can’t stop your thoughts from trailing to how when the song was over, he would lift you to sit on the counter and kiss your forehead. You’re wearing one of his hoodies tonight, and you pull the sleeve down over your hands to use to try to quickly wipe away any tears before he sees them. Once you feel you’ve reined in your emotions to the best of your abilities, you clear your throat before speaking again.

“I miss you, H.”

“I miss you too, angel.”

The music has changed again, Don’t Worry Baby by The Beach Boys lifting the mood enough you don’t feel so heavy and overwhelming with your yearning for him. You take a deep breath, planning to ask him about his day, but before you have a chance he says, “Go to your bedside table. The top drawer.”

“What?”

“M’tryin’ to tell you where your last surprise is. Go to our bedroom and look in the drawer. I’ll wait.”

You flash him a smile before turning to make your way out of the kitchen, through your living room and down the hall to your bedroom. It takes a bit of searching before you uncover a stack of bright, pastel colored envelopes tied together with the same purple ribbon as the candle from the day before. You work quickly to untie the knot and turn the lamp on so you can read the front of each one. There’s 4 total; open when you need a laugh, open when you miss my hugs, open when you need a reminder of my love, open when you miss me.

You tear into the final one immediately, setting the others aside for later. It’s not very long, the perfect length to boost your spirit even further. Just the thought of him taking time to sit down and write his expression of love for you makes you grin, and has that same feeling of being loved spreading through you as it did the previous day when you saw the heart on the bathroom mirror.

You had almost forgotten leaving him on hold in the kitchen until you hear, even from 3 rooms away, the sound of him singing along to whatever song is playing now. You close your eyes, picturing for a moment that it’s a typical night when he’s home, darting around the kitchen while he makes dinner or puts dishes away.

You make your way back through the house to him, envelope in hand. Each one had been a different color so the second he sees which one you have his eyes brighten, his smile growing bigger the closer you get.

“Of course you opened that one first. Did y’like it?”

You shake your head no, breaking into a laugh when you see the look of disappointment on his face, “I loved it. Very charming of you to do all this just for me, H.”

“Yeah? I did a good job surprising you then?”

You roll your eyes. This man and his need for praise was too much, but he was yours, and you were his and you would do anything to assure him that you loved him just as much as he loved you.

“You did an amazing job, really, Harry. I never expected you to be able to do so much so last minute.”

His mouth drops open in mock dismay, looking down and shaking his head, “I can’t believe you would ever doubt me!”

You don’t say anything, just shake your own head at his teasing, sharing a look of adoration before you look away.

“Hey, did I leave my lip balm there? The coconut kind I use before bed? Thought I had it in my duffel but I couldn’t find it when I got here.”

“Yep. I used it earlier when I got out of the shower. Want me to send it to you?”

“Nah, you don’t have to, but..you could bring it to me in person if you wanted.”

“I would if I could, Harry.”

The tone of a new text from your phone startles you, and you try to suppress your elation as best you can at who it’s from. It’s Jeff, confirming the time of your flight he’d helped you schedule for the following day. Harry knows you too well, would instantly be able to read your face and be suspicious of what you were up to. You step away from his line of sight to let the thrill run through you, to let it fully wash over you so he wouldn’t see. You return as quickly as you can, brushing it off as if you’d just gotten a text from your boss or a friend. He was oblivious, none the wiser at what you were planning.

It was your turn to surprise him.

#stylesvdaychallenge #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing

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yourlocalmaraudersbabe · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a Sirius x Reader where she studied with Bill Weasley at Hogwarts and she met Sirius due to the Order's meetings?

“Well then, which law are we breaking first?”

Summary: Coming to an Order meeting late with Bill leaves you seated next to Sirius Black

Warnings: Swearing and puking?

Pairings: Platonic Bill Weasley x Reader and Sirius Black x Reader

A/N: Thanks for sending this in! I hope you like what I did :) I definitely enjoyed writing this so please send in some more requests! I write for most characters in Harry Potter as well as some other shows <3

Word Count: 1304

Reminder that I don’t support jkr. Do not interact if you do.

“Ah sorry we’re late,” Bill spoke promptly to the room as the two of you walked into the dining room of Grimmauld place.

“Not a problem, we were just talking about a few new raising concerns,” Dumbldore cleared his throat.

After knowing Bill since he was a mere eleven years old, you knew he did not feel sorry whatsoever for making a grand entrance. In fact, he spent ten minutes too long at the Burrow getting ready. The words ‘Fashionably late’ rang through your ears in his silvery voice.

A few new faces were present at this particular meeting, or at least ones you haven’t met yet. Bill took a seat at the end of the table, leaving you next to an entirely new face. A gorgeous face indeed.

Scooting in your chair slightly, you met eyes with the crystal grey ones. Not being able to keep contact, you moved to different features of his body: Long black curls that fell to the sides of his face perfectly. Sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could practically pierce you, or anyone else in this room for that matter.

He seemed a bit older, almost showing off his beard as he rubbed the side of his face with a cheeky smile, looking down at the table as if here were a teenage boy.

By now, Dumbledore had continued to speak, the only one recognizing this moment between the two of you was Bill, who was eager enough to shut it down just as quickly as it all happened.

“Oi!” he kicked you under the table.

You sucked in a breath, giving him a quizzical look as he nodded his head toward the white bearded man speaking in the front of the room. You knew it was only right to pay attention to Dumbledore, it was the middle of the wizarding war after all.

Everyone had dispersed from their seats at the table, except you and who you now know as Sirius Black. “So you work with Bill Weasley?” he made conversation awkwardly at first, eventually easing into more playful and meaningful conversation.

To anyone looking at the both of you, they saw how you instantly clicked. Everything you had to say, Sirius was there to listen and vice versa of course.

His low voice was calming enough to put you to sleep if you let it. In fact, over the next few weeks, some nights you did.

You had found an excuse almost everyday to come back to Grimmauld place, when in reality, you really didn't need to. You felt ridiculous coming back to see him as if you were back in Hogwarts, wanting to spend copious amounts of time with your newest crush.

Bill saw right through it though and wasn’t too surprised you had already found yourself someone to see, as you were only in the area for a little bit, soon heading off on Dumbledore’s orders in a couple weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The remaining time you had flown by and you found yourself with a pit in your stomach as you left Sirius for what you’d thought would be the last time. ‘He’s never taken you out on a proper date, it didn’t matter’ you told yourself as you stepped onto the porch, preparing to apparate. You said your goodbyes to everyone else through the door frame. Sirius was of course the last, a gut wrenching feeling of leaving him behind left fresh in your mind.

Dumbledore wanted you back with the Weasley’s for a few days while he worked out a spot for you and Bill to set up camp.

“Ready?” your voice cracked, not meaning for it to.

“Yeah,” Bill laughed. “Are you ready y/n?”

“Mhm, excited to see Molly and the rest of ‘em.”

With two cracks, you and Bill had apparated to the Burrow. “Oh fuck, I’m going to be sick-”

You could barely speak the words warning what you did in the bushes right in front of you. Bill held your hair back as you finished the unpleasant experience. “You alright?” he rubbed your back as you stood up straight, wiping the side of your mouth.

“Uh, might’ve just been a shitty apparition?” you hoped. “I don’t know- there’s a pit in my stomach-”

He cut you off, correcting you. “Heart.”

Your furrowed eyebrows were enough for him to explain yourself. “Y/n,” he laughed, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not blind- nor is anyone in that house. Your heart. A pit in your heart from leavi-”

“Look Weasley, I don’t know where you’re going with this but I wasn’t done talking. I was going to also say I have this feeling of leaving something behind and it's kinda sad, but the feeling of being there also consumed me, y’know?”

“Y/n. You’re falling for Black.”

You stood there, wide eyes, mouth agape. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmm, sure you didn’t leave anything back there?” he teased. “Perhaps your lover boy?”

“Oh fuck off Weasley,” you laughed, walking into the Burrow, straight for the bathroom where your toothbrush lay. Those two minutes of brushing your teeth were probably the longest two minutes of your life as you were eager to get back out and see the Weasleys.

Bill leaned against the door frame. “You know I’m right.”

You groaned and with a simple crack, you were back at Grimmauld place with what should be an illegal surge of adrenaline.

Sitting on the porch step was just the one you wanted to see. “Sirius.”

“Y/n?” he questioned, as you sat directly next to him on the concrete. It was pitchblack out, the only source of light being the dim moonlight. “What are you doing here?”

“I um, well I’d like to know that too,” you breathed a shaky breath, laughing nervously. “Guess it was something I did without thinking-”

He cut you off with a sweet tender kiss on the lips, holding the sides of your face. Kissing him back, you found your hands running through his curly locks.

He pulled away breathlessly, laughing his stupid laugh that got you every time. “Did that without thinking too.”

His comment amused the both of you. You were in a bliss until you realized this was like every other interaction between the two of you. “Black, I came here to talk.”

He froze in his spot as if you were about to tell him the world was ending. Siris relaxed as you hugged his arm, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I don’t want this to be a goodbye,” you whispered, hoping it was just loud enough for him to hear you.

“Neither do I,” he spoke.

You could hear the smirk and planning in his voice as you met him with the same energy.

“And what are you gonna do abo-”

“Y/n.”

“Hm?”

“Be my partner?”

“What? Like your partner in crime?” you humored.

“Oh shut it y/l/n,” he laughed along with your quiet chuckle.

“No I know what you mean,” you spoke, voice matching the now calm atmosphere. “And yes.”

The both of you smiled into a kiss.

“Back to the important stuff,” he drew out the final connection of your lips.

“What? The crime?”

“Yes obviously.”

“Well then, which law are we breaking first?”

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borkthemork · 3 years ago

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think you can do a drabble based around maddie and marcy? maybe set after season 3 with the two just bonding over sorcery in peace afterall that tragedy. i mainly just wanna see more of the former in fanfiction 'cause she's way too interesting a character not ti have a ton of wriitng based around her.

"We need a cup of grounded Baphomet root."

"You got it!"

"And don't forget to grind it very well," Maddie instructed, tapping her chin as she looked through the book’s contents. “If we don’t do this correctly then we’ll bewitch the entire forest and I really don't want to be grounded for the rest of my life."

Taking the mortar and pestle Marcy smiled, letting out a light scoff. "I think we'll be fine. We've been doing this for months, and you're talking to a guaranteed perfectionist over here.”

That was true, but Maddie still ogled the ingredients in front of her. Everything looked in place. There was a distiller, jars of various contents they scrounged up from the forest, and the whiff of sulfur from the newly-churned pot reassured Maddie enough that yes, they should be on the right track.

The only worry came to exact measurements, or that aforementioned bewitching if they messed up. With the amount of potions and hexes she made during the Battle of Newtopia, Maddie could say that she leveled up enough to handle this rank of magic, but best to be prepared regardless.

Especially now that Marcy was back in one piece...and it would be awful if she had to endure another stressful situation just from a simple mistake in the calculations.

“Hey, Teach.” Marcy walked toward her. Looking down, Maddie was pleased to see that the roots had been grounded to a fine powder. A fine powder full of death and bad choices. “If we grind all of this together, do you think we have enough time for a potion? I was thinking...something spicy.”

“Spicy?” Maddie arched an eyebrow. “If you’re talking about fire potions, we don’t got any ingredients to—”

“No, no. Not like that.”

Okay, so no fire potions. But Marcy wasn’t making any sense at the moment, or at least giving Maddie a straight answer. “Then what are you implying? We’ve done protective seals, bond material, and cursed nutritional dirt. Potions take longer.” Not to mention that they spent an entire day with dark magic. They were practically going to be out past her curfew, which was a massive no in her book. “So what’s the rush?”

“Weelll,” Marcy pursed her lips. She was skipping around the subject again, but before Maddie could say anything else, Marcy grabbed the book and started flipping through. “I took a gander at your book a few hours ago, and I recalled seeing this chapter that talked about advanced healing.”

“Uhuh.”

“And I wanted to see if there’s a way to heal deep scarring, 'cause trying to get treatment back home isn’t uhh—” Marcy rubbed the back of her neck. “—working so good.”

Oh.

Maddie fumbled with her hands for a moment. “Right, Earth doesn’t have magic.”

“We know how to remove scars, but yeah can’t do much with big pharma these days. Well, I can go to Finland, but that’s long-term planning.” Marcy shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Since I’m here I wanted to research the idea. Doesn’t hurt to try.”

With that, Marcy turned the book. The page she was on displayed numerous pictures and lists about growth and skin development, and sounded like something that could transition Maddie to a Level Four Witch if she and Marcy had the time to fulfill it.

“Okay, I can definitely work with this,” Maddie mumbled. “I’ve never healed scarring before, so I wouldn’t mind practicing if you’re up for that.”

“Totally!” Marcy tapped a finger at her shirt’s center. “Test away. After all, it’s the only way to check out a hypothesis.”

Maddie understood that well, but that wasn’t what she was worried about.

Few nights would pass as the two started their newest project. Advanced healing needed a lot of ethereal products; thankfully, Joe Sparrow and a few messages to-and-from Newtopia had allowed them to gather the materials from the farthest corners of the continent.

Some pinches of obsidian rock salt. Jugs of spider milk. A cache of ticks, axolotl slime, and a whole load of bio-luminescent mushrooms. Everything they gathered were at their purest form, but what surprised the two most of all was that when the book ‘needed ethereal products’ they didn’t expect it to take practically a full month to cover their bases.

Or that Marcy would grow more and more tense with the oncoming passing of days.

Marcy had been chipper about the whole concept — enthusiastic too because who wouldn’t want to be enthusiastic about cheating the natural cycle of body decay? But still, actually hearing mention of what happened months prior was still awkward to partake in.

Maddie wasn’t dense. Observation was a key skill for a witch to have. If one didn’t watch simmered milk then that milk would eventually froth and explode. If one didn’t check the accuracy in volume then consider yourself cursed for all eternity. Observing ingredients was akin to observing people, of how their facial expressions twitched and stretched even when it was hard to see inside their thick skulls.

For Marcy, they were friends. It wasn’t that hard to know when she had something on her mind. Being the enthusiastic assistant she was, any stress that piled on to the work led to the typical signs: Marcy’s voice would get strained in higher pitch, less focused with the work at hand, and trying to get a forward answer from her became straight-up impossible.

So on a day like this, where the blood moon peeked through the canopies and bathed them in light, Maddie had to ask the question:

“Are you alright?”

Marcy glanced at her. Her arms were occupied, stripping the last of the conifer leaves into the bowl below her. “I’m good. Pretty fine if I do say so myself.”

“I think you’re lying.”

Her assistant widened her eyes, but when Maddie stared more Marcy didn’t seem to be that surprised. She just laughed. “Aw c’mon, Maddie. Give me a good reason as to why I’d be lying right now.”

“Well, you’re an inch away from putting the conifers into the Bunsen burner.”

“Wait, I am?”

“And now they’re on fire.” For the fifth time.

Marcy shoved the tinder into the water pot beside her, mumbling a string of ‘Ow’s under her breath. When the smoke fizzled out, Marcy’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, you've got a point. I am pretty out of it today.”

“You want to talk about it?”

"Well," Marcy set her instruments down, and bore wearily at the table's surface. "I just really want this to work. Back on Earth there's a potential guarantee that the scar will heal, but there's still that pesky margin of error, regardless. And even if I get the treatment I need, it'll never remove it.”

"In Amphibia, I've witnessed the miracle of revival and resuscitation,” she continued, starting to gesticulate. “These are things unexplainable to my world's current rules, anything’s possible. So...I just want to make sure this potion doesn’t fail.”

Maddie furrowed her eyebrows. "Why though?"

"Huh?"

"I get it. You want to heal your scar, but what's so bad about having one?" Maddie asked. "It shows you survived, and surviving isn't a bad thing."

Marcy's expression grew illegible.

Maddie stopped. "If it's really personal, I'll just get back to making the—"

"No, no, it's okay." Marcy's lips twitched. She looked exhausted now, and Maddie wondered if she crossed some line in their friendship that should never be crossed. But before she could say anything, Marcy continued. "I'm gonna be honest for a second. Is it okay to spill something dark? Are you okay with that?"

"We're all about dark things here."

Marcy giggled. She stared more into the pot, brewing the concoction to a creamy mush. They both remained like that for a while, until the mush coagulated into clots.

"I don't want to see the mistakes I made."

Maddie glanced at her. The jade pot glow held the outline of her face, accentuating the curve of her brow, the grimace on her lips.

“I don’t want to think it’s selfish, but I have to look at that scar in the mirror everyday,” she said. “It drives me nuts sometimes, can you believe it?” She chuckled. “I wake up everyday and think ‘wow, I cannot believe this happened, and that I trusted a jerk like him’.”

Marcy sprinkled something into the gunk.

“And sometimes, even when I’m trying to be mindful of my causes, then the scar’s association switches from guilt of betraying everyone I love to the guilt of being duped so easily. I can’t win. Pretty dang weird.”

For a moment, Maddie remained silent, not knowing what to say. She had never seen Marcy so downtrodden before. During the Battle of Newtopia, she had only seen a few glimpses of her face during the rescue, and when they returned to Wartwood, any appearance of Marcy grew lesser so due to the stress of oncoming war.

But now, Marcy was showing vulnerability, and it was the first time Maddie grew stunned to no response.

Before Maddie could say anything else, Marcy laughed. She lifted her spoon from the pot contents, and showed off the goop melded to its surface, shiny in the eery light. “Look at that! You know we’re almost finished when it smells like rotten oatmeal! We just need to let it ferment for a while and then the potion should be ready.”

“Hey, Marcy.”

Her assistant paused, a quizzical look on her feature. “Yeah?”

“You know I respect you.” Maddie held her scrutiny. “And the fact you’re very much into dark stuff as much as me.”

“Of course, who doesn’t love eldritch concepts?”

“A lot of people,” Maddie said. The words were stuck in her throat. After all, what was the correct way to say condolences? Either way, she went for it. Marcy needed the support. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that if this potion is really important to you, I’m going to make sure it works. No mess-ups. No unneeded side-effects. As long as it makes daily life easier for you, then I’ll take the chances. And even if it doesn’t work, perhaps there’s another way. Whatever happens, my book’s always open.”

Maddie recognized the beaming expression on Marcy’s face. It practically lit the entire forest. “Hey, has anyone told you that you’re the best teacher an assistant can ever have?”

Nope. But it was great to be told the first time.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #Marcy Wu #asks #Anonymous #Here you go anon #fanfic #Maddie Flour

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

Text

All-Nighter (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: Language and alluded sexual situations Premise: He’d do anything for her, even fly across the country on moment’s notice.

A/N: If Ethan had gone to Vegas to spend a full night with MC. Crack and fluff. Sorry!

12:26 am

Ethan had never understood the appeal of Vegas. The city, crawling with gaudy exhibitionism, reckless gambling, and rowdy party-goers, had always seemed a tad tasteless to him. Even in his med school years when his cohort planned a trip to sin city, Ethan had preferred to find solace in an overpriced drink at a bar off the strip and not dancing against strangers in a stuffy nightclub.

Now, he had been convinced (albeit too easily) to take a six hour flight to a city he would much rather avoid.

His phone pinged with a notification from her, reminding him of the adult rated texts that had inspired his impromptu trip.

Miss you. Wish you could see me in this dress.

Seconds after, a picture came in and Ethan almost dropped his phone on the concrete.

And finally, she sent one final, maddening addendum: Or out of it.

It was lucky for Ethan that he was already in the same city as her, one an elevator ride away from ripping that tempting thing off of her.

I'm outside, he texted back.

More than anything, he wanted to give in to the burning need to just have her in his arms.

------------------

12:48 am

As Ethan waited outside the casino she mentioned in a previous text, however, the flashing neon lights making it almost difficult to distinguish that it was nighttime, he held a different doctor in his arms. A very drunk Dr. Lahela had haphazardly collided with him only seconds earlier, throwing an arm around him after recognition hit. Ethan was still unsure if the gesture was out of comradery or to maintain his balance.

“Ramseyyyy,” he called out with a suave ease that was admirable in his current state.

Before Ethan could answer, Varma and Sienna Trinh appeared at his side. The former looked just as intoxicated as Lahela, though she was doing a much better job at maintaining her balance and dignity. Sienna, however, looked sober, or sober enough to figure out why Ethan was there for she threw him a knowing smirk.

“Dr. Ramsey,” she greeted casually over the noise of the busy boulevard. “I forgot Edenbrook sent you here because of our contract with Panacea.”

It was a feeble excuse to explain his presence to the other two. It didn't matter because neither of them was listening anyway. Ethan doubted they ever questioned why he was there in the first place.

Lahela's arm gripped him tighter as he swayed. “Dr. Ramsey, you have to come with us to the Sugar Factory. They have this drink called the fish bowl. It's exactly what it sounds like except full of candy.”

It sounded like a drink straight out of his nightmare.

“Lahela, tell me why—”

To his horror, the young surgeon's face lit up as he started singing. “Ain't nothing but a heartache.”

“Tell me why,” an equally drunk passerby added.

“Ain't nothing but a mistake,” Lahela continued as others laughed and joined in. By the time they were finished, all three residents laughed hysterically while Ethan remained unmoved, silently wishing he had stayed in the blissful quiet of his apartment in Boston.

He was reminded of why he had left the comfort of his home to venture into the wild five minutes after the group had departed for the aforementioned Sugar Factory. His eyes found her as soon as she stepped out into the street, clad in the sinfully short dress from her picture. The effect it had on Ethan felt like a punch.

Lilac spotted him too, her face alight with a combination of surprise and unrestrained elation. Before either of them could stop what was about to happen, she rushed into his arms. On instinct, he lifted her off her feet, their lips meeting in a kiss charged with promise.

“Hi,” she greeted breathlessly when he carefully set her down.

“Hi,” he returned, sounding just as affected.

“I had to come out here to make sure you were really here. I can't believe you actually came,” she all but exclaimed, voice laced with giddy happiness. It made his stomach leap pleasantly, inspiring a foolish grin he didn't care to fight back anymore.

“Me neither,” he confessed.

“Well, I'm glad you did. I like this spontaneous Ethan Ramsey who flies across the country on a whim.”

That admission sent a thrill through his body. He realized he'd do anything to see that winsome smile each time, even if it meant dropping everything and rushing to her side hundreds of miles away.

------------------

1:32 am

“Eight, six, seven,” Lilac was saying over the roar of the fountains and the Celine Dion song. “Five, three, oh, nine.”

She waited for a hint of recognition, but as

she had suspected, the drunken frat boy did not understand the reference. Instead, he tapped the number into his phone and flashed her a sloppy smirk. “I'll call you later.”

Ethan appeared at her side after he was gone, shaking his head at her with a smirk.

“Your drink, Jenny,” he said, offering her a cup that looked to be more ice than drink.

Lilac laughed as she accepted it, her body gravitating to his side at once. A rush of dizzying joy almost overpowered her every time she realized she didn't have to fight that instinct here.

“Funny. That's the name I gave him too,” she said taking a sip. “He was insistent and drunk beyond comprehension. I thought it'd be easier to give him a fake number.”

“You gave him a song,” Ethan commented with a laugh. A rare, taunting grin illuminated his face, rendering him the handsomest man she had ever seen. “And you could've just told him you have a boyfriend.”

She arched an intrigued eyebrow, already moving into his embrace. “I have a boyfriend, do I?”

Ethan's free arm encircled her, casting a glow of warmth over her body. It could have been the small amount of alcohol in her system or this newfound energy that crackled between them, still fizzing with longing but considerably lighter than in the past months.

He nodded in mock seriousness.

“And is he the jealous type?”

Ethan genuinely scoffed at that, his fingers aimlessly caressing her bare back. It made her skin blaze where he touched her. “Jealous of what? A sweaty frat boy crass enough to hit on a beautiful but evidently uninterested woman? Believe me, there's nothing to be jealous about.”

“Case in point,” she laughed, raising herself to kiss his nose.

Ethan laughed too and took advantage of their sudden proximity to press his lips against hers, their kiss sweet and just as dizzying as the many desperate, passionate ones they had shared. When they parted, that fiery, striking gaze of his remained locked on hers, making her thighs quiver.

The song in the background reached its final notes as the jets of water disappeared into the dark pool glittering in front of the lavish hotel. The crowd began to disperse but Ethan and Lilac remained on the sidewalk, basking in a content lull, his arm securely around her and her cheek pressed against his chest. She knew without asking that he was enjoying this small allowance of being a real couple just as much as she was.

At last, her eyes fell on the replica of the Eiffel Tower across the street. In the span of a second, she wondered what it would be like to be in front of the real one, safely wrapped in Ethan's arms.

“I wonder how it compares to the real one,” she wondered out loud.

“I've never seen it but I'd wager it's not a true representation.”

For some reason, she found that surprising. “You've never been to Paris?”

“I've been for work but my time was spent doing just that. I didn't venture out much into the city to sightsee. To be honest, I didn't understand the appeal.”

The pause that followed suggested he wanted to add more but he remained silent. When Lilac pulled back from his embrace to look at him, she found those piercing blue eyes studying her intently.

“I know what we should do for that date you teased in your texts,” she said when she finally found the words.

It was Ethan's turn to arch his brow at her in interest. “I thought this was our date?”

“Yes, but we're in Vegas. There's so much to do at this hour. And besides, you promised me all night in one of your texts.”

The crooked smile he gave her along with the wicked glint in his eye should have been illegal. He leaned in and whispered darkly, “That's not what I meant.”

Five words and she was all over him, kissing him in ways that were inappropriate even for Vegas. They broke apart and Ethan looked at her expectantly.

“So what's this idea for our date?” he prompted when Lilac merely stared at him, lips still burning from his kiss.

“Oh, right. I was thinking since we were both two giant nerds who powered through med school and never traveled—”

At this, Ethan shook his head, amused.

“—we could each pick something to do here in Vegas that feels like traveling to somewhere remote.”

“But instead we'll be in a loud casino, surrounded by obnoxious crowds and exposed to secondhand smoke?”

Lilac rolled her eyes which made him laugh.

“Fine, I'll do it. But you pick first.”

---------------

2:17 am

As they glided through the clear waters, Ethan had to admit he could see the appeal in the faux gondola ride. Even if it was romantic, the critical part of him dwelled on the fact that the canals of Venice did not smell strongly of chlorine. He almost voiced the cynical observation out loud, before he remembered this was her idea and the last thing he wanted was to offend her. Although, he was certain Lilac would only laugh and playfully shove him.

But Lilac was not taunting him, which should have been his first indication that something was off. She wasn't even marveling at the painted ceiling of the casino or making snide comments about the high end shops at the edge of the water and the people who shopped there. Instead, she pressed firmly against his side, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

Lilac plastered on the weakest attempt at a smile. Ethan only waited until she dropped the act and said, “Is it weird that the water is freaking me out?”

Ethan considered that. “Are you afraid of open water?”

Lilac shook her head. “No, or I would have never suggested this. But once we got in and started moving, the water just looked terrifying?”

Ethan gave her reassuring smile. “We can get off if you want.”

Again, she shook her head with a brave determination that made his stomach flutter. She was entirely too adorable, even without trying.

“No, I'll be fine,” she said through a steadying breath. “I'll just refrain from looking at the creepy water. And I'll try not to think about what we'll do if this thing flips over.”

“Rookie, the water is three feet deep. If we capsize we can just...get up on our feet.”

Lilac's eyes moved to meet his at the words. They stared at each other in the golden glow of their surroundings, their expressions unreadable. The silent seconds stretched until they both dissolved into hearty and borderline hysterical laughter.

Ethan tried his best to sober up first, but when he was close to regaining his composure, he would meet her eye and then they'd both continue to laugh relentlessly. He was aware that they were drawing curious looks from the people observing from the bridges. Even the gondolier cast them a questioning look but said nothing.

Ethan didn't care.

It was the happiest he had felt in weeks, amidst everything that had happened.

They finally sobered and Lilac sighed, much more at ease than before. When she settled against Ethan, it was with her hand softly pressed against his chest, directly over the heartbeat that pounded fiercely for her.

------------

3:31 am

The plan had been to go dancing at the Egyptian themed casino, much to her companion's dismay. In the end, she won against his protest and Lilac was feeling particularly proud of herself for talking Ethan Ramsey into going to a nightclub. Then again, she hadn't missed how his eyes occasionally traveled along the expanse of her plunging neckline or how his fingers trailed along her exposed back whenever he held her. A lot of the credit was owed to the dress.

Which is probably why they never made it to the nightclub. Instead, they hastily detoured to the penthouse suite the leeches at Panacea paid for, their hands and lips on one another for the majority of the journey there.

Thirty minutes after ensuring they were truly alone, the miraculous dress lay pooled on her bedroom floor, completely forgotten. Meanwhile, Ethan moved against her in ways that made her scream out his name. As they both reached the peak, Lilac leaned in to whisper exactly what she wanted him to do.

With a grunt, Ethan obeyed wholeheartedly.

“Your turn,” she panted minutes later as she rolled off of him.

“As you wish,” he said, the words interrupted as he too struggled to catch his breath. “Although you know I prefer it when you take the lead.”

She laughed. “No, your turn to pick a place to go next.”

Ethan flipped on his side, offering her the sexiest grin. God, she was really thinking about sleeping with him again, mere minutes after the first round.

“I thought I picked this one,” he teased, his voice thick and heavy in ways that made her center pool with heat.

“We both picked this one,” she argued before she kissed him.

-------------

3:47 am

Ethan only pretended to consider their next destination. The truth was that he knew the answer since the moment she suggested it in front of the fountains.

They only had to leave the bed, a feat that was more challenging than it sounded.

Lilac, far more determined than Ethan, even got as far as slipping back into the lacy black underwear he had removed with his teeth earlier. The deliberately coy smile she sent his way when she realized he was staring, however, had his hands on her hips in seconds.

“Fucking hell, Lilac,” he murmured against her mouth as he pulled her on top of him for the second time that hour.

----------

4:59 am

After a third failed attempt to get out of bed, which resulted in both of them making good on the promises they made in their earlier texts, Lilac sat up in bed to look at him full on. She gave him what was supposed to be a stern, admonishing look, but she knew it was half hearted because he looked at her with such adoration that she broke a smile.

“No more distracting me. You're not getting out of picking, Ramsey.”

Ethan's eyes remained fixed on hers in the darkness of the room, his expression betraying no hints of amusement. Outside, the sky began to glow with the first rays of orange and pink, the promise of the sun's arrival setting the inky blue sky ablaze.

She frowned, noting the lines of exhaustion on his handsome face. “Are you tired? We can just stay if—”

“We're already here,” he said quietly. “The place I pick.”

“Bed?” she asked with a startled laugh. “Ethan Ramsey, you are almost a romantic.”

“Almost?” His mouth betrayed a hint of a smile. “I'm offended, Rookie. But no, as wonderful as we are in bed, that's not my choice.”

Ethan didn't elaborate, the small crease between his brows suggesting he was deep in thought. Every so often, his eyes flickered to hers, holding her gaze briefly before they moved away just as quickly.

“I'm not—” he started, stopped, and tried again. “I'm not good at this kind of thing.”

A slight flush colored his angled cheekbones, so endearing that she couldn't help but kiss him. In all honesty, she wasn't any better at any of it either, only suggesting the date idea as a clichéd way for them to spend time together in a faraway city. It hadn’t been her proudest moment but had Googled ideas the moment he said he was outside.

Nervous energy filled the room in their shared silence.

“The only place in the world I give a damn about is by your side, Lilac,” he said at last, the words quiet but powerful enough to make her pulse clamor like bells.

Ethan scratched the back of his head at her silence. “I was also hoping this goddamn penthouse had a balcony. I would've picked that as my date because of Miami and the first time we—”

Lilac interrupted him with a kiss, the force of it over balancing Ethan and sending him into the pillows. She didn't care that their kiss was unceremonious and far from romantic. All she was aware of was the growing, urgent need to kiss this cheesy, romantic, brilliant man. He laughed against her lips, strong hands steadying her on top of him.

“You're so much better at this than you give yourself credit for,” she informed him when they broke apart.

“Good,” he said, lifting his head to kiss the curve of her neck. “I was worried there was finally something I didn't excel at.”

------------------

A/N: Meanwhile, her friends are still partying somewhere on the Strip, begging Bryce to quit drinking while he’s ahead. Those fish bowl drinks are no joke.

Holy shit that was 3K of nothingness. If you made it this far, thank you!

This was loosely based on my experience(s) going to Vegas, although I don’t remember most of it. Again, those fish bowl drinks will destroy you lol.

Thank you to @aestheticartsx for your help with this mess!

P.S. Sorry about the dress in the pic not being the exact same one. I saw some that were close but the wrong color. Others were too crazy with that neckline. Ethan would’ve just dropped dead lol.

___________

New Tags: (Hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @ethandaddyramsey, @trappedinfandoms, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @mrsramseyy, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @angela8756, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble

Interest in this fic:

@udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @khayy19, @mercury84choices, @jlynn12273, @fireycookie

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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kinktae · 5 years ago

Text

flesh and blood || 2 (M)

You are living in a society that is just now picking up the scraps that the Great Outbreak left behind after the government killed off the majority of the zombies. Still, some remain, and fear still lies within society’s walls. So imagine your surprise when the very thing you’ve been taught to fear ends up saving your life, showing you that maybe two beating hearts aren't always required when it comes to love.

pairing: zombie!jungkook x reader

word count: 5.9k

genre: post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, smut

warnings: lots of TV watching, mentions of conspiracy, joon doing some illegal shit, mentions of murder, & smooching

A/N: inspired by warm bodies and the fact that I'm a legitimate crackhead.

01 | 02 | 03

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PART TWO

Zombies were nothing like hamsters, you had come to find out over the past few days.

It seemed like an odd comparison, but it was the only other pet experience you could call upon. Your hamster, affectionately named Anarchy, was an impulse decision on your part, a running theme in your life it would come to seem. Nevertheless, you and Joon took it upon yourself to ensure she lived up her whopping two years of life, setting her up the biggest tank you could find and spoiling her with chew toys and salt licks. Anarchy was the perfect pet; she didn’t whine or grunt, didn’t eat all the chocolate in your fridge and she certainly didn’t follow you into the bathroom every time you needed to pee.

Your zombie friend, however, could not have the same said about him.

Namjoon and you spent many a night perched on the couch discussing very important zombie matters – Are steak saturdays a bad idea with a zombie in the house? Does he have a name? Should we be charging him rent? – while the zombie in question sat directly in front of the TV, completely consumed by the black and white film Namjoon had put on for him.

“Why can’t I just put some of my foundation on him?” You tried to reason.

“They’ll know he’s wearing makeup. Your foundation is cakey as hell.”

“What about— wait, what?” You blinked, surprised.

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably, flashing you an apologetic look, “Oh, sorry. I thought you knew.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at your TV to find that the zombie boy had not moved an inch since the last time you looked.

“Hey, brains.” You called out, feeling playful. “How would you feel about getting a spray tan?”

“Y/N, this is serious. I really don’t think he should ever leave the house.” Namjoon sighed, pulling your attention back onto him.

“You want to imprison him? He’s a person! He has to leave the house or he’ll go stir crazy. I know I would…”

Your best friend shook his head, and although you still felt like you had a case to argue, you knew that the discussion was over.

“I know, but if we’re seen outside with a zombie… It’s just what’s best for everyone, Y/N. Better safe than sorry.” Namjoon shrugged.

Leaning back into the couch, you crossed your arms over your chest. Of course, he was right, but that didn't make it any less unfair. Even if the zombie man had yet to utter a complaint since arriving at your place, you couldn't help but feel responsible for his well being. He saved your life after all.

A noise coming from the sitting zombie caused you and Namjoon to jump; it was a sharp, high pitched sound, unlike you had ever heard come from him before.

Shockingly, you looked over at the zombie to find the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as the scene playing out on the television reflected in his dark eyes.

"Did he just..." Namjoon gaped.

"Laugh?" You finished the shared thought, a warm feeling falling over you. "Yeah. Sounds like he just did."

Namjoon hummed, tapping a finger against his thigh contemplatively. Suddenly, he stood up, heading out of the room. Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what he was doing.

"Where are you going?" You inquired.

"To start a Project Z chart. My groundbreaking research begins today!" His voice informed you from somewhere in the apartment.

You grinned, chuckling slightly. Bringing your knees into your chest, you wrapped your arms around them. Project Z, huh? Alright. Count you in.

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A thump against your foot pulled your eyes from your computer screen. You were sat in the living room, legs tucked under the coffee table as your ass took comfort on a pillow you placed on the floor.

"Hi, there!" You cooed, poking your head under the table as you greeted your hamster Anarchy. She had been roaming around the room in her giant clear hamster ball, one of her favorite ways to keep you company while you did your work.

The grey colored rodent continued forward, wheel rubbing against the length of your legs as she ran. Snatching the ball before she could get any further, you brought her up to eye level, her little nose sniffing at you.

"That's enough ball time for today, don't you think?" You asked her rhetorically.

Suddenly, your phone began to sound, the familiar tune of Monster by Lady Gaga ringing out for the kitchen.

"Brains!" You called out towards your zombie roommate, who was sat in his usual place in front of the TV. He wasn't actually responsive to your nickname for him, but thankfully, the volume of your tone caught his attention enough to turn and face you.

You placed Anarchy back onto the floor.

"Watch Anarchy." You pointed at your pet before pointing at him. "Don't let her roll out of the room."

The undead boy showed no sign of understanding, his eyes merely locking onto the contained mammal. He hadn't shown much interest in your hamster up until now, the TV taking up all his attention of course.

Thank god he was already a zombie because the amount of time he spent in front of that damn screen would have surely rotted his brain by now.

Assuming that his attention would not shift away from the rodent now that he was intrigued by it, you made your way out towards the kitchen, where you had left your phone to charge. You cursed as you watched the way the screen of your phone changed, the phone call ending before you could reach the device.

Grabbing your phone, you swiped it open, only to see that it had been Namjoon to call you.

Your eyes fixed on your phone, you sent him a message as you walked back into the living room.

[12:56 PM]

To: Joonie – sorry I missed ur call... did u need something?

You let out a small yelp as your toe hit itself on something– you knew exactly what it was as the sound of plastic rolling across the room rang out.

Your stomach sank heavily as you located the ball, not because you had just sent your hamster whirling across the room, but because the ball... was empty.

Your eyes widened as they found the ball's lid, lying ominously on the floor.

"Anarchy? How did–" You breathed before you realized you had left the zombie alone with your beloved pet.

A chill ran over you as you eyed him; he was once again watching the TV, cross-legged as if nothing was wrong.

"Oh my god..." You gaped. "Did– Did you eat Anarchy?!"

He didn't react to your voice and before you reason with yourself, you gripped his shoulder angrily, forcing him to look at you.

To your surprise, you were met with not just wide zombie eyes, but with the sight of Anarchy cupped carefully between his palms, very much alive. You let out a breath of relief, sinking down to sit beside him.

So your zombie friend didn't have a taste for rodents. Good to know.

"Sorry." You apologized reflexively before a chime, followed by another, called your attention.

The zombie watched carefully as you began to fiddle with that strange device he sometimes saw you occupied with.

You read the texts carefully.

[12:57 PM]

From: Joonie – just stopped by the market and picked up some human brains for dinner… JK lol

[12:57 PM]

From: Joonie – was gonna ask if you wanted something but im otw home. c u soon!

You were just about to put the phone away when something stopped you in your tracks.

Tap.

A finger poked at your screen, and your eyebrows raised to find the zombie leaning in close, attention fixed on the set of texts sent in by your best friend.

You gawked at him for a moment, unsure if he was capable of reading and understanding the words in front of him.

After a few silent moments passed by; you cleared your throat, deciding to read the texts to him.

“Just stopped by the market and picked up some human brains for dinner… JK haha.” You narrated.

To your surprise, the zombie boy let out a grunt, poking at your screen again. Confused, you followed his finger to see what exactly he was pointing at.

Tap.

His finger hovered over the acronym Namjoon had sent. Was he asking what it meant? You could imagine zombies weren't well versed in text slang.

“The letters J and K stand for just kidding.”

It felt silly talking to him like this. You had no clue if he even understood written language – or verbal for that matter.

If the boy understood what you said, though, he didn’t show any sign of it. Once again, he tapped his finger against the message, accidentally causing the word to become highlighted.

“Yes, yes, I see it.” You said, growing slightly frustrated at the clear lack of mutual understanding between you.

Tap.

“Okay, enough of that…” You sighed.

Ten minutes passed by uneventfully; Brains was watching his favorite show again, having had handed your hamster back so you could put her back and continue your work.

The sound of the front door opening caught your attention, accompanied by the rustling sounds of the grocery bags Namjoon was carrying.

"Welcome home!" You greeted, not peeling your eyes from your screen.

"Can I get some help, please?" Namjoon's disembodied voice called out, stealing a sigh from you.

Begrudgingly, you closed your laptop, trudging over to the kitchen to help the scientist.

Offering him a nod in greeting, you began sifting through the bags he had heaved over onto the kitchen counter, on a hunt for any frozen foods that needed to be stored immediately.

"Did you buy–"

"Chocolate?" Namjoon finished for you, tucking away a tub of ice cream into your freezer. "Yeah, duh. You only reminded me eight times before I left."

You flashed him a sheepish smile, pulling a plastic container of strawberries from a grocery bag.

"Did you get any work done?" Your roommate wondered conversationally. You shrugged.

"I guess. This article Seokjin has me working on for the paper is dull as hell."

"And how is our zombie friend? Did you guys bond with me gone?"

“Obviously. I mean, we're practically best friends now." You teased, rolling up a now empty bag. Namjoon gasped suddenly, a hand over his heart in pretend offense.

"You're not trying to replace me are you?" He sniffed fakely.

"Well, he does get along with Anarchy. He took her out of her ball and held her and everything." You shrugged, a small smirk pulling at your mouth.

The fridge door shut sharply, Namjoon's eyes narrowing in distaste, "You're telling me that little rat likes an undead stranger better than me? I can’t even put a hand in her enclosure without her trying to gnaw off a phalange!"

"Stop calling her a rat, she's a hamster!" A laugh escaped you, ever amused by the way your pet despised him.

"Interesting that he didn't eat her though." Namjoon continued, the two of you were nearly done putting the purchased food away. "I'll make sure to note that in his chart."

"I was surprised, too." You nodded.

"Learn anything else interesting that I should write down?"

"Not really. Just that he really likes the acronym JK. I read your text out to him and he wouldn’t stop tapping at my phone when I showed him it.” You explained, slipping a hand into the back pocket of your jeans casually.

The groceries were all stored meaning your moral duty as a roommate to help put them away was officially completed.

“Really? Interesting..." Namjoon hummed.

"Is it?" You mused.

"This could mean he understands transcribed text."

You thought back to the way the zombie had shown little to no reaction to Namjoon's words before shaking your head in disagreement.

"I doubt it."

"You said you read it out to him right? Maybe it’s zombie slang for something. Or at least sounds like it.” He pressed.

You pondered that idea for a moment before responding, “You think zombies have their own language? I haven’t heard a sound out of him other than the occasional grunt or groan.”

“Why not? If animals are able to communicate within their own species, why not zombies? Nonverbal communication occurs in the animal kingdom all the time.” Namjoon explained, once again proving himself to be the smarter of you two.

Suddenly, without warning, he began to make his way over to the living room; you cocked your head in confusion before following him.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, worried he was going to harass the unsuspecting zombie again. Often you'd have to step in and remind Namjoon that the zombie wasn't a test rat that he could just poke and prod at whenever he wanted.

Said zombie was, of course, exactly where you had left him, sat upright on the couch looking stiff and unnatural as ever as he watched his TV with a blank expression.

“I’m gonna test out a theory.” Namjoon declared without warning, and to your disbelief, he let out a loud grumble.

“J...K…” He groaned out, voice clearly trying to imitate that of a zombie’s. Oh, god. Your best friend was an idiot. He really was.

Just as you were about to hit Namjoon on the shoulder for being such a dumbass, the seated zombie unexpectedly turned towards the two of you, clearly responding to the word.

He stared at you both with wide, unblinking eyes before letting out a huff of his own.

“Holy shit.” You breathed silently.

“Well. I think I just spoke zombie." Namjoon whispered. Neither of you dared to take your eyes off the walker as a small ounce of fear began to set in.

What exactly had Namjoon said to him? Was it possible to offend a zombie? Should you both start running now?

And as if you weren't taken back enough, you completely lost the ability to breathe altogether when a corner of the zombie boy’s mouth twitched upward, flashing you both a crooked, yet unmistakable smile.

“Is he... smiling?” You turned to face your best friend only to see that he was smiling back at the zombie.

“Remind me to put zombie whisperer on my résumé.” Namjoon grinned smugly.

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"No, this is mine. That one is yours." You huffed, grabbing back the stolen candy bar.

"Mine." JK repeated, reaching over for the very item you had just taken back from him. You let out a groan, throwing your hands up in defeat.

"I take it he's not grasping the concept of ownership?" Namjoon glanced up from whatever hospital file he was looking over.

"That little brat knows what I mean, he's just greedy and stubborn." You accused, glaring at the zombie who had already peeled open the wrapper of your chocolate.

In the past two weeks since you first brought home the stubborn zombie, there had been much development on his part. For starters, Namjoon and you had deducted that his name must be JK as it was the only word he responded to every time without fail.

Along with that discovery came the shocking utterance of words on his part.

Y/N. Joon. No. Mine. Sorry. Candy.

Each one was just as jarring as the one before, even if simple. Namjoon, although disappointed your name was JK's first words and not his, was thrilled. Language reacquisition was certainly something reports on zombies failed to notice.

"Hmm... wonder where he picked that up from..." Namjoon muttered sourly. At his words, you frowned.

"Excuse me, are you suggesting something mister?" You raised an eyebrow at him challenging.

Your best friend let out a laugh, "You say that as if you aren't the most hard-headed, unyielding human being to ever walk this earth."

"Bold words for someone who can't even go to sleep unless a nightlight is present." You scoffed.

"Hey!" Namjoon slammed the paperwork down onto the coffee table, causing you to roll your eyes. The zombie frowned, eyes flickering between the two humans. "That was a low blow! I could have brought up the fact that you're in your twenties and still can't drive but some of us have class, you know."

"Driving is scary!" You defended, turning your nose up at him. "Besides, why do I need to drive when I have a chauffeur?"

"You ass, I am not your chauffeur–"

"Joon." JK's gruff voice rang out suddenly, silencing the room. His eyes glared at the tall human openly.

Namjoon looked taken aback at the zombie's sudden call, his eyes flickering to you for reassurance, but you hadn't a clue what was happening either.

"...Yes?" He finally replied, voice hesitant.

The zombie immediately dropped the chocolate, hand coming up to point at you instead. You quirked a brow, noting the way he had yet to take his cold eyes off Namjoon.

"Sorry." JK demanded.

You let out a laugh.

"Wha– Are you kidding?" The scientist marveled. "Hell no, I'm not apologizing to her."

"Joon. Sorry." The zombie said once more, a clipped tone behind the word.

You were a giggling mess, hand coming up to cover your mouth as you watched your roommates interact with amusement.

"Why just me? Y/N should apologize too!" Namjoon whined.

JK held the man's stare for just a beat when swiftly, he grabbed the file that he had placed down onto the table.

"Woah– Hey, naughty zombie! Give that back."

"No." The zombified man responded dryly, only causing you to laugh harder.

JK glanced your way for a moment, taking note of how pleasant the sound before once again turning to Namjoon.

"Yeah, Joon! Say sorry." He could hear you tease beside him.

"Yeah." JK repeated after you, his head nodding in a way that was convincingly human-like.

"Son of a bitch. He's like the undead male version of you." Namjoon griped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ultimately, he cried uncle.

"Fine. Y/N, I am so sorry, please forgive me." His eyes flew back to JK, extending his hand out pleadingly. "Now can I please have that file back?"

JK frowned, wanting to say something but lacking the necessary words to express himself, so instead, he turned towards Y/N.

You were already looking at him, elbow perched on the table as you rested your chin on your open palm. You were smiling in the way that always made him feel funny; your eyes shiny and amiable.

You gave him a nod, which was all the reassurance he needed before he finally handed the file back over to the man he had stolen it from. Namjoon snatched it back eagerly, pulling it into his chest in case either of his roommates tried to pull that same stunt again.

"Monsters. Both of you." He said in a flat tone. You chuckled, heeding his words no mind as you spotted the abandoned chocolate lying on the table that the zombie had set down.

JK watched with a frown as you took the candy bar from him, his noise of protest dying in his throat the moment he saw the way your lips wrapped around the sweet treat.

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“Y/N.”

“Hm?” You replied, still concentrating on the apple you were slicing up for the zombie. As willing as he was to keep eating candy all day, you didn't want Jungkook's insides to decay any more than they already had.

Jungkook.

The sudden discovery of the zombie's full name was an unexpected one. It happened last week on a night much like others. You had just finished drying up his sheets and pillow cover, the fabrics warm and heavy in your arms. You had noticed your zombie friend had been particularly pensive that day, not chatting much which certainly was unusual for him nowadays. So as you walked into the living room, you weren't surprised to find him sitting at the couch staring out at the metal bars that ran along the length of the window as he appeared lost in his thoughts.

"Here you go. Nice and warm." You had announced, dropping the sheets onto the zombie's lap. He was yanked from his thoughts by the sudden weight.

"Nighty-night, sleep tight, don't let the zombies bite." You chimed breezily. The childhood rhyme might not apply in this particular case but you found the humor in it enough to say it to him every night.

The zombie gave you a slow nod, causing your brows to furrow slightly. It really wasn't like him to be this quiet. Lately, it had almost seemed as if he couldn't shut up; he was a human parrot, regurgitating and repeating every word that caught his interest, even occasionally forming sentences.

Namjoon deduced that this must be something of a second term speech emergence– or as you understood it, just a fancy science term meaning JK was rapidly learning how to speak.

A soft click rang out as you flicked the light switch on the wall off. The moon was bright and full tonight, it's light seeping through the window as it painted a wash of blue on the zombie and the couch.

"Y/N."

His voice was small; if it weren't for the quiet of the night you doubt you would've caught the call at all.

"Yes? Is everything okay?"

There was an undeniable melancholy in the air. It seeped through his tone and engulfed the room.

"I remember."

The words stunned you and after a silent beat, you were walking over to him, sitting down on the coffee table across from him.

"What? What do you remember? Tell me." You urged softly.

You watched as he swallowed shakily, eyebrows furrowing as his jaw opened and closed, fighting for a response. He could see it all, flashing from one scene to another in the back of his mind. There was a family that loved him. A pretty girl that made his chest tighten like it did when he was near you. A car accident. A morgue. Screaming. A group of six boys taking him in. Men in black uniforms pinning them to the ground as he hid and watched.

It was suffocating.

"JK?" You called out worriedly, noticing the way emotion clouded his eyes and how his breathing was becoming ragged.

"Jungkook." A name came out raspily as if saying it out loud was painful.

"What?" You blinked.

"Jungkook." He mourned, tears falling from his eyes. "I remember."

Your heart sank as his face twisted up, and before you could stop yourself, you stood and pulled him into you, his face finding the crook of your neck as he began to weep. You let out a breath, your hand petting the back of his head in hopes to comfort him, his hair still damp from his shower earlier.

Needless to say, when Namjoon came back from his night shift to see the two of you curled up asleep on the couch together, he had many questions.

“Y/N, come here.” Jungkook's voice insisted, causing you to huff.

'No please, huh? Typical man.' You thought to yourself bitterly as you placed the knife in the sink, scooping up the plate of freshly cut apples as you made your way over to him.

"Here. Apples. Eat." You ordered, placing the plate down in front of him. Jungkook had graduated from sitting on the floor to the couch while watching TV, truly an astonishing character development on his part.

"What are they doing?" Jungkook ignored you, completely captivated by whatever he was watching.

Pressing your lips together, you watched the scene unfold on the screened box.

“They’re kissing.” You said, glancing back at the fascinated man that sat beside you, unsure of how to approach this subject.

"What?" Jungkook cocked his head, clearly not familiar with the term.

“What they’re doing? Yeah, it’s called a kiss.”

The romantic lead and his female counterpart were locking lips under an umbrella as rain poured around them, uplifting music humming in the background. Just the kind of grand romantic movie ending all pre-apocalypse movies seemed to have.

“Kiss.” Jungkook repeated, testing out the word.

“Yeah, you do it with someone you care about. Someone you’re close with.”

“Do Y/N and Namjoon... kiss?” He muttered.

Your eyes grew, quick to shake your head vehemently, “Huh? Oh no! God no. We’re just friends.”

“Friends?” The zombie pressed.

“Yeah. We’re close and care about each other but… definitely no kissing.” You shuttered. You had known Namjoon for too damn long to even entertain that idea.

“No kissing. Just friends.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded, seemingly content with the information he was just given. "But why do they kiss?"

You shifted in your seat. Was this what parents felt like when it was time to give their kids 'the talk?'

“Well… It feels nice. And I guess it's a way of showing someone you love them.” You shrugged shyly.

“Love."

Jungkook seemed to be merely repeating you rather than pressing for an explanation as he turned his attention back to the movie.

“Confusing.” Jungkook concluded.

“Yeah, well, you’re not wrong.” You mused through a laugh, bringing his attention back on to you and the way he couldn't help but smile every time you heard you do so.

And there it was again. That strange, tight feeling in his chest that he had yet to find a word for... up until now.

"Y/N."

Turning towards him, your world froze the second his lips found yours. They were soft and warm much like the hands that cupped either side of your face.

Pulling away from the kiss, Jungkook opened his eyes, heat finding both your faces as you gawked at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry." He apologized suddenly.

"Y-You just..." Your words failed you, there was no possible way to wrap your head around what just happened.

You brought a hand to your lips, fingers running along your bottom one before covering your mouth altogether.

"Gosh. You have to ask before you kiss someone, brains." You turned away from him, tone of voice serious as if to scold him.

Jungkook nodded quietly, unsure of how to reply, especially when he could see the way you smiled behind your hand.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were trying to sleep, you really were. But unfortunately for you, when your, admittedly good looking, zombie roommate kisses you, it tends to consume your thoughts. You felt like you were overthinking everything despite the fact that you knew nothing.

Was it a misunderstanding on your part? Did you explain kissing in a way that confused him and he was just trying to express his gratitude towards you for taking care of him for all this time?

Or did he... love you?

God, you sounded ridiculous, you know you did. How could a zombie even understand an idea as complex as love? Why was this even affecting you so much? Why did it matter?

Your thoughts were bordering on dangerous territory right now, and in desperate need of a distraction, you rang up Namjoon.

"Joon!" You greeted the second he picked up.

"Uh, hey?" Your best friend replied warily. “Is everything okay?"

"What? Yeah! Of course, I mean, why wouldn't everything be okay?" You replied, heart racing as you swung your legs against the side of your bed.

"Well, for starters, you're calling me at three in the morning? Why aren't you sleeping?"

Namjoon often went to do work late at night at the hospital for his internship; usually, it meant you got to see little of him in the mornings as he was passed out cold but this time it actually worked to your advantage.

"Oh, I'm just... thinking, I guess. How are things at the hospital?" You diverted quickly.

"It's kind of a slow night," Namjoon revealed and you could almost picture the way he'd shrug, "but I'm guessing you didn't call me to ask me that. What's going on, weirdo?"

You let out a sigh. He was your best friend, after all. Of course, he'd see right through you.

"It's just... Jungkook. He's just so different from everything we thought we knew about zombies."

"I know, right? He's nearly completely fluent now, don't you think?"

"No, it's more than that." You furrowed your brows, laying back on your bed. "He's just– I mean he's got... emotions and preferences and memories. I think he might even... Ugh, nevermind I’m just overthinking.”

"Did... something happen that I should know about?" Namjoon mused. You bit down on your lip, unsure of how to answer.

"We know he's different from the others but–" You chose to ignore before he cut you off.

"But what?"

Staring at your ceiling, you sorted through your thoughts– thoughts that you had been toying with for a while now.

"What if there are more like him? And if so, where are they? Have they been killed? What role does the DEAD Team play in this?"

"Hm. I don't know... but let me see if I can find out." Namjoon said, causing you to sit up in surprise.

Of course! Research was Namjoon's whole thing. If anyone could find out more about this, it was him.

"Okay, yeah! Let me know if you find anything." You replied.

"And Y/N," Namjoon began suddenly, his tone shift slightly. "If you’re right... Wait. Nevermind, let's, uh, just not talk about this over the phone anymore, okay?"

"Oh... okay." You blinked in confusion at your best friend's nebulous words.

"Good night, weirdo."

"Night." You muttered back, hitting the end call button as you tried to suppress the uneasy feeling in your gut.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The feeling of someone yanking the covers off your body jolted you awake. Squinting, you tried to orient yourself, the lights in your room blinding your tired eyes.

"What the fuck?" You grumbled, eyes focusing on the hovering body that soon revealed itself to be your boisterous best friend.

"Morning, sunshine!" Namjoon chimed.

"Ugh, what time is it?"

"Around six in the morning!" He answered before taking a seat on your bed, dropping a pile of what looked to be meaningless junk next to your body.

“Can I just say, finding anything outbreak-related that isn’t Anti-Zombie propaganda is fucking difficult… Luckily for you, I happen to be a genius with a lot of friends in the computer programming field.” Your best friend explained cockily.

“Oh shit." You rubbed at your eyes before taking in the pile. "Find anything good?”

“Oh, yeah. Turns out you’re not the only one who thinks there is more to the zombie story. I found an archive of a forum of people like us sharing stories and conspiracies about the Great Outbreak and the government’s involvement in it.”

“Really? How have I never stumbled upon that before?” You pondered.

“That’s just it. It was an archive, meaning the forum doesn’t exist anymore, it was shut down. The whole site was shut down actually, seemingly out of nowhere. Unfortunately for whoever took it down, once someone takes a step onto the internet, there are always footprints left behind. Nothing is ever really gone forever.”

You let his words sink in, still on sleepy brain mode.

“So... do you think the government took the site down?”

Namjoon flashed you a look as if to say well, obviously.

“A lot of the thread was purely he said she said stuff, but I did find some compelling pieces of evidence. Most notably… this.”

Namjoon reached into the pile and pulled out an old copy of a newspaper, placing it on top for you to read. Printed on the first page was a picture of a family you didn’t know, consisting of a mother, a father, and two daughters. On top of the picture in all bold was the title, “FAMILY KILLED BY ZOMBIE DAUGHTER.”

You vaguely remembered hearing about this story on the news when you were younger. But even then, you hardly gave sensationalized news much thought.

“Anyway, the youngest daughter, Shelby, died some time ago from some form of cancer. There are records of her parents taking her in to get that sketchy ass drug if you remember–”

“Immortuos, of course.” You nodded.

“Yeah. Obviously, she ended up dying and coming back to life. However, instead of letting the DEAD Team take her into custody, her family somehow managed to sneak her out of the mortuary her body was being stored in.”

Your eyes grew in size, “Are you serious? Wait, how do you know this?”

Namjoon rummaged through the pile, pulling out a piece of paper before holding it out to you. You stared down at it.

“Is this… a credit card statement?”

“Shelby’s father’s credit card statement.”

You shifted back away from the paper, sitting up in your bed. You were looking at a dead man’s credit card history. Weird.

“How the literal hell did you even get your hands on this?”

“I have my ways.” Namjoon smirked. You nodded, impressed at just how much your best friend had gotten away with.

“Anyway, look at this. Five days before the entire family’s reported death, the father bought four plane tickets.”

Four plane tickets?

“Well, that doesn't make sense. If it was just the oldest sister and her parents, they would only need three.” Your brows furrowed.

“Right. But with Shelby alive again…” Namjoon hinted.

“Four tickets.” You marveled, finally understanding. “They were trying to run away.”

You shook your head, “But wait this newspaper says Shelby killed her family, right? So what really happened? Why didn’t the family make their flight?”

“So there’s speculation that the government heavily monitored the immediate family of the recently undead after their resurrection. People on the forum theorized that the government caught wind of the family’s plan and killed them off before they got the chance to flee. Clearly, they thought the family knew something they shouldn’t have otherwise they would have just taken the girl. I mean think about it, do you really think a six-year-old could overpower her sister and two adult parents? ‘Cause I don’t.”

You sat in silence for a second. It made sense. The zombie girl was already back with the family so it would be the perfect guise to fall back on: ‘Naive family takes back zombie child only to be eaten alive!’ That would certainly deter other families from trying to do the same.

A thought crossed you suddenly.

“Hey, this happened in our town. You have access to the hospital's morgue records… do you think there is any way–”

“One step ahead of you.” Namjoon interrupted, pulling out an aged manila envelope from the pile, the word confidential clearly stamped onto it.

You held Namjoon’s eyes in disbelief, wondering how the fuck you had befriended a master level criminal, before taking the envelope into your hands and prying it open. Inside were four sheets of paper. Copies of autopsy reports, with each respective family member’s name on it. Your stomach dropped as you let your eyes roll over them, realizing each sheet of paper had been signed off the same way:

Cause of Death: GUNSHOT TO HEAD

Manner of Death: MANDATED HOMICIDE

Police Notified: NO

"Mandated homicide– whoever executed their deaths was ordered to do so. And if the police weren't notified then..."

"Yeah." Namjoon confirmed grimly. A wave of nausea rolled over you suddenly.

“The family knew what we know. That not all zombies are dangerous.” You breathed, swallowing dryly. “And now... they're dead.”

Your apprehensive eyes met Namjoon's, the air thick with the feeling that you two had just stumbled upon something much bigger than yourselves– something you would not come out of unscathed.

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #ironstrange x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x y/n #Stephen Strange x you #tony stark x you

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danifics18 · 4 years ago

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🎃 Dance of the Wolves 🎃

Welcome to day one of Spooky Time Drabbles! I have thirty two prompts that I’m going to attempt to pump out in spirit of Spooky Season! If you want to see a continuation of any of these works- let me know! Once I post the majority of my Spooky Time Drabbles, I will be posting any extra smuts, or small continuations.

Tags : Werewolf! Mingi//PWP//Marking//Slight ass play//cunnilingus//knotting//

TW: Mentions of blood

Word Count : 4k

General Masterlist Ateez Masterlist

With a cold breeze skittering down your spine, you place the last box inside your home to look around, figuring out where to place the new Halloween decorations you’d just bought that day.

Moving away from a big city, to follow the feeling of Wanderlust- as your mother would’ve put it, to end up moving to a much smaller town in a more remote, forest area. It wasn’t even a quarter of the size that your previous town was, but you like it. The neighbors were kind, the community was tight-knit.

It felt like home.

And with the feeling of home and wanting to fit in in mind, you decided what better way to fit in than to join the town’s celebration by decorating your house to match the others.

Normally, for Halloween, you would’ve left a candy bowl out by your door for anyone in your apartment floor to get, along with hand delivering small bags of candy to your apartment’s security guard - Seokmin - for him and his kids to have, as well as to the elderly couple who lived right down the hall. But, besides that, you weren’t the one to really go out that night, preferring to stay in and watch movies like ‘Halloween Town’ or some other movie that wasn’t deemed as scary.

But much to your findings, people here didn’t celebrate Halloween, instead they celebrated something they called ‘The Dance of the Moon’ - where they essentially partied all night at home and at the town square. From what your town mayor , Mr. Song, explained to you, was that hundreds of years ago, the small town had been plagued by wolves. They would go after children, elderly, anyone who couldn’t readily fight back from being eaten. Every time someone was found missing, the townspeople would send a group to kill some wolves; how many people were taken and eaten- that was the amount of wolves that would be killed in return.

“An eye for an eye,” as the older gentleman had explained, with a hardened look on his face.

Supposedly, the resolution was found as the town had experimented with what would please the wolves- since back then, the closest town with a decent hunter was days away, and there weren’t enough people to both send out and watch over the rest of the town. The wolves would stop going after a lot of townspeople if there were sacrifices made.

The Mayor was quick to assure that the legends hadn’t specified human sacrifices- they never exactly said what was sacrificed, really, but for the past thirty years or so, they had been using pigs, goats, or cows that were due to pass on soon. They would drop them off at a specific place in the forest, and knowing that the residents would be safe from any wolves, they would celebrate in the town festival until early dawn.

The last piece of information that Mayor Song had dropped on you before he handed you your house key- new residents had to participate in the festival. Seeing that you were the only resident to come in this year- it really is a small town with not a lot of travelers- he asked you to accompany the animals to the post; with his son, Mingi, of course. When you had agreed, Mayor Song had sent you on your way, notifying you that his son would pick you up with his animal hauler at around five, the evening of.

⇛ ⇚

To prepare yourself for the festival- that did make you a little unsettled, but you were sure it was just a stretched out rumor- you spent the week finding whatever Halloween knick-knacks for around the house that you could.

You had no plans of dressing up at all for the festival, until one of the ladies- Theresa- working the cash register, had asked if you had your outfit ready yet. With a glace to your face, she had explained that for the festival, people usually wear red, purple, white, and black. It didn’t have to be a full outfit or anything, but you would look like an outsider, since most of the town residents liked their outfits to look from back then. With that in mind, you quickly used up your last days trying to piece together an outfit with the corresponding colors.

A white, knee-length, lace dress accompanied by a black headband, and purple nail polish. The red garment, however, left you slightly baffled. The only red clothing that you could find was a deep red cloak that you had bought on one of your ‘spurge days’, after getting your first job at seventeen. You didn’t need the item for anything, it just looked so cool that you had to have it. And now, so many years later, you contemplated wearing it- quickly deciding that you’d ask Mingi his opinion when he picked you up, but just in case, you’d wear a lipstick the same shade of red.

⇛ ⇚

The day of the festival had left a pit of excitement in your gut. You hadn’t had work today- town’s rules that no work was permitted on holidays, and that included town holidays- and the same goes for tomorrow as well, although, it is asked of residents to come to the festival grounds to help clean up.

As the day dwindled to late afternoon, you decided to head back home to get into your costume for later tonight, and then wait for the mayor’s son. This would be your first time meeting the boy, the only things you know is that you are the same age as him, and he’s got a deep voice- from what your coworker has told you.

A loud knock on your front door snaps you out of your thoughts, checking yourself over one last time in the foyer mirror, before opening the door to see a tall man with brown hair- styled in a gelled undercut.

“Hi, I’m Mingi, it’s nice to meet you”, the mayor’s son reaches his hand out for a handshake, feeling your fingertips and palm tingle from the contact. Feeling thankful that he can’t notice the blush on your face, you shake his hand and return the greeting.

You both take a moment to look each other over, and you have to admit, he looks good. He’s dressed in a flowy, long sleeve white shirt that has two untied strings in the front of the collar- showing off the black velvet choker with subtle deep purple moons embellished in the fabric - and a pair of cropped black pants. Looking up to meet his eyes properly, you gasp under your breath.

Hearing a cow moo in the trailer behind him, he suggests that you guys leave now, before quickly turning to walk to his truck. Walking after him, you thank him as he opens your door for you, before he enters on his own side.

Throughout the drive, you both make small conversation about your likes and dislikes, finding out that you both had quite a bit in common. You were both shocked to find that you enjoyed things like Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, and neither one of you really like cake. You found out that he was a nature photographer who used to live a few hours away with some friends; he moved back a couple years prior after he had gotten attacked by some people who were illegally hunting who had mistaken him for an animal. He had plans to move back with his friends, he just felt like he should be back in his home roots for such a big injury.

Looking out the window, you try to make out any shapes of the passing by trees- the darkness of the early night made the forest a lot darker, being unable to see anything if it weren’t for Mingi’s headlights. For the next thirty minutes, the only view you could see was the dirt path with the occasional flying creature - probably bat - flying above the truck, before flying into the darkness.

“We are almost where we need to be, there’s a small cabin that this road leads to. From there we can stop and walk the animals a mile out to the post”, Mingi says, his unnaturally bright, honey-colored eyes flashing over to you- being so bright that you can’t decide if they’re real or not. You’d been wanting to ask him since you had first noticed them, but you didn’t want to be nosy, or feel like you were asking a really obvious question.

Soon enough, the trees break away to show a meadow, a cabin and a shed in the middle of the clearing. Pulling the truck to a stop in the make-shift dirt driveway, you both get out and walk to the back end, where Mingi opens the back trailer revealing a single cow and two goats. Mingi hands you the leads for the goats as he takes the cow, and you both start walking down a pathway- stopping frequently when the animals decide to graze at the long grass.

Neither you or Mingi made conversation, besides the occasional comment towards the animals. Eventually, you both had made it to a pen of sorts, seeing other animals in the pen as well.

Giving Mingi a questioning glance, he ignores you, taking the leads from you to walk the animals into the pen, before disappearing to the sheltered building, before coming out with handfuls of hay to give to the animals.

“There’s no wolves out here, you know?” The tall man finally says, “ No actual wolves. Just me,” he finishes giving you a smile,” I know my father meant well, but I was hoping for this to be more natural.” Confused, you start walking backwards, your heart beating so hard you think it might go through your chest.

Not waiting for you to say anything, he continues, "I know you must be confused, but I can explain. You should probably stop walking back though; it is a full moon tonight, and my wolf isn’t in the playful mood tonight- especially not with how you smell.” As his last sentence rings through your ears, you quickly decide to ignore his warning, and run down the path back to the cabin.

As you pump your legs faster you hear a forced laugh from the man, ”So this is the type of mate I have,” the pen gate rustles behind you, and as much as you want to look back, Mingi’s words make you feel the opposite. With the now red colored moon shining your path, you reach the cabin, not being able to decide what to do next.

Apparently, you wouldn’t have any time to decide anyways, seeing that as you started to go to the cabin’s door, a large hand grabs your shoulder, halting you from moving. Being forced to turn around, Mingi stares down at your form breathing heavily. Eyes widening, you start to squirm as you see his eyes now a deep red color, before freezing at the deep rumble that comes from his chest.

⇛ ⇚

“You're not too good at following directions, huh? C’mon, let’s get inside, I’ll make some tea and properly explain since you wouldn’t let me earlier. I won’t hurt you- if I had wanted to do that, I could've done that on the trip here,” He tells you with an unimpressed look, before walking you in front of him, to the cabin.

Minutes later, you were sitting down on a couch facing the fireplace with tea in hand, as Mingi sat on the recliner angled to the couch, tea in his hand as well. Taking a sip of his beverage, he clears his throat “ So, I’m sure my dad and some people have been talking about tonight’s festival,” you nod “Okay, well pretty much, my dad told you a different version of the town’s legend. We did try sending animals, but they hadn’t worked, it wasn’t until the town herbalist had offered to go out as a sacrifice instead. Seeing that nothing had worked, previously, and she was a recent widow, everyone let her,” Mingi stopped as he heard your soft gasp,” Apparently, she went out, and she did get attacked.”

He paused, tilting his head as he asks” Did you know that wolves can tell when a human is pregnant?” You nod your head- you’d seen plenty of videos of how wolves in safe havens had reacted towards pregnant guests. Mingi smiles at your knowledge and continues on,” Well unfortunately, they noticed that she was pregnant after attacking her. As she was dying one of the she-wolves approached her, and somehow gave the human her life force- their spirits joining together. The lady survived, but she was the town’s first werewolf- her son being the first born werewolf. Seeing the power she had, the rest of the pack listened to her. As she went back to the town- the villagers considered it a blessing. It isn’t clear how it happened, but she was able to get the villagers to join their spirits with the pack. Of course there were people who rejected- and they left the village,” Mingi stops again sipping his drink.

“How does that work though? Would that mean the entire town is full of werewolves? Isn’t that unsafe?” You ask, setting your now empty mug, on your lap.

“This has never been a town to get a lot of visitors. After a while of the town learning how to be wolves and humans, there were quite a few attempts to kill the pack from the people who’d left. The first woman, at that point she was what we call a Luna, had heard about a witch a few towns over who might be able to help- so they sought her out. After agreeing to help the witch with a small problem, the witch put a circle around the town. Other supernaturals can find the town- but to humans, this entire place is just forest. The only humans who can come here are like you, they’re mated. Destined to be with someone from here. And that person happens to be with me,” Pausing to gauge your reaction, he continues explaining,” Werewolves have mates, and they’re pretty much soulmates. I can tell because your scent is intoxicating for my wolf, it’s a very homey scent. You will be able to feel the pull the more we are around each other- for now, you’d probably get a ticklish feeling if I were to touch you,” You think back to when you’d shook his hands, and the feeling you got when you brushed against his arm- it makes sense, but earlier you had thought it was just your nerves from being around a handsome guy,” But eventually, you will develop a better sense of smell, and probably better hearing and sight- although it won’t be the same as being an actual werewolf. Unless, that is, you choose to reject me?” He questions with his facing down to look at the unlit fireplace.

Taking a moment to think, you make up your mind before answering,” What do I have to lose?” You get up to place yourself on Mingi’s lap- something that you wouldn’t have done if it were anyone else, but you knew that you were comfortable with him.

“I’m in a new town that although it might be new and strange, it still feels right. I definitely don’t understand the whole wolf thing, but there’s plenty of time to learn,” You finish, leaning into the large hand that was placed on your face. Feeling his breath on your face, you close your eyes as he gets closer.

“I’m glad, now shall we go back to town? Everyone was really excited to be around a new face, you know,” Mingi says, placing a kiss on your nose.

⇛ ⇚

Weeks turning into months, and months turning into years; two years precisely, you’d never imagined the day that you’d leave this cozy town that you had considered home.

You and Mingi had officially started dating two weeks after first meeting- although, typically werewolves never really bothered with the whole dating thing, unless they weren’t mates- and you two were still going strong.

With an influx of new packmates from a neighboring pack alliance, and Mingi’s need for joining back with his friends- which you had found out were actually his formed pack- you two decided to move away, to the plot of land that they owned.

When you two had first pulled up to the place, you couldn’t help but scoff at your boyfriend’s words. “Only a small plot of land he says. And Disney World is just a small fair, right?” His only response had been a bashful grin.

The place still felt very homey, and very similar to your previous town; being located in the middle of nowhere, it was twenty acres of land, fenced off to show the property lines. It was pretty clever- seeing that when you first pulled into the main road in, it honestly looked pretty inconspicuous, if it weren’t for the big fence surrounding the place.

Meeting the pack members had made you a bit nervous, but you soon realized that they reminded you of brothers- very teasing, a little annoying at times, but you cared for them, and they cared for you.

Thankfully, you guys didn’t share a house together. It was bad enough that most times, you would wake up to find Wooyoung, Hongjoong, or hell- sometimes the entire pack in your house, eating your food and lounging about. Every pack member had their own individual houses- each spread out, and separated by a lot of trees.

This was extremely helpful when it came to your boyfriend’s mating season.

Usually, for his rutts, you guys had been fine for the most part. He hadn’t marked you yet, so of course, he would be a bit more aggressive and testy with the other males. But, unfortunately, his heat this time had definitely taken a toll on you both.

With him being, essentially, part wolf, he can keep track of your cycles pretty well. If he’d noticed that you were bleeding, he’d be more attentive than usual. Early in your relationship, it had embarrassed you that he could literally smell you, but now - although it does cause some embarrassment - it doesn’t make you feel as weirded out, especially since he only tries to help you.

But, a big downside of this has been him knowing when you’re ovulating. When this starts, you aren’t really allowed to go anywhere; Mingi’s wolf sees this time as your heat, even though humans don’t actually have one. It’s even worse when your ovulation is timed up with his rutt.

⇛ ⇚

Laying on your stomach with your arms crossed under your head, you blink your eyes open, shutting them as the late afternoon sun works its way through your window. As you decide to fall back asleep before your boyfriend awakens, the hand that is wrapped around your waist, tightens; your naked body shifts under the loose sheet as you get moved to your side.

You attempt to even out your breath to trick your needy boyfriend into thinking you were still asleep. You loved the attention he gave you during this time, but with how long you two were going at it earlier today - hence why you had taken the nap in the first place - you did have a small worry in the back of your head of you both getting over exhausted.

Your plan quickly got thrown out the door; a growl emitting from the chest behind you, as Mingi rutts his bare length into your lower back.

Spotting kisses around your neck and shoulder, your boyfriend speaks.

“You know, I think it’s so cute,” placing a kiss on your shoulder “That you think I can’t tell when you’re awake,” placing a kiss where your shoulder meets your neck “When I can still smell your sweet cunt beg for attention when I barely graze you,” he finishes with a light bite below your ear; a place that makes you breathe out a whine.

“Mingi, please,” “Please what?”

Pouting at his teasing, you pull his hand that’s wrapped around your waist, and place it in between your legs- sure that he can feel the accumulated arousal.

“Please fuck me, I really need it. I really need you,” You beg, tilting your head to the side as much as you can to tantalize him.

In an instant, you are shoved onto your stomach, Mingi’s thick thighs straddling yours, his long length resting on your butt. Feeling his precum dripping onto you, you grind your ass up to feel some type of friction- being stopped by Mingi grabbing your hair and pulling you back enough for him to whisper in your ear.

“Little mate, I suggest you not tease me. I would love to make you properly mine- but if you keep acting up, my wolf will take over, and you will be marked and knotted,” His raspy voice makes your eyes flutter back. Inhaling a deep breath, his hand in your hair tightens, as he undoubtedly smells the new wave of arousal gushing out from his words.

“Please Mingi. Mark me, knot me, I don’t care. I just need you in -!” Your begging gets cut off as you feel your boyfriend crawl down you- him lifting your hips up, and sliding his tongue through your slit.

Rolling your eyes back as his talented tongue does wonders on you, he grabs your ass cheeks for more leverage. After sliding his tongue into you a few times, mocking what’s next to come, he travels up, licking at the pink hole between your cheeks. Reaching your arms out behind you, you attempt to hold him in place to continue eating you out. Much to your disappointment, he gets back up to his previous position, holding your hands behind you.

“Baby, hold yourself open for me,” You quickly obey, grabbing your cheeks to present yourself to him.

His groan fills your ears, before feeling his cock enter you, him only stopping when his lower stomach is fully resting on you. Being left breathless from the sudden intrusion, you let out a loud moan when he pulls out, only to thrust back in- the power of the thrust shaking your form.

After a few more slower thrusts, his resolve finally breaks, as he starts snapping his hips into yours at a faster pace; the room filling with the sounds of moans, and slapping skin.

Hands having fallen, you grasp the bed sheet, as you raise your hips back to meet Mingi’s thrusts.

Feeling his cock throb inside you, you moan out, letting him know you’re close. He bends down closer to you, hips pistoning even faster. If it weren’t for the pillow between the wall and the headboard, you knew that there would for sure be a dent in the wall.

Placing kisses on your shoulder, to sweeten the blow that was prepared to come, he finally finds your sweet spot; biting down on it as he feels you come around his length. Whining at the intensity of the strong orgasm, you don’t notice the trail of blood running down your collarbone, from where your boyfriend was latched onto you.

Mingi finally pulls back, slowing down his thrusts as he comes, his cock swelling in size and pumping his seed into you directly.

Gasping out at the slightly uncomfortable feeling, your attempts to wiggle around are thwarted by Mingi laying his upper body on you- turning your face to kiss it.

“So this is what knotting is?” you question, as the uncomfortable feeling subsides, having adjusted to his large size “Yes it is. The knot should go down in around twenty minutes- there was a lot that went in, so it’s going to take a little longer than usual,” He replies with a tired yawn.

Turning over to your sides, you press your upper body against his before falling asleep feeling content.

#Spooky Time Drabbles #Mingi #Ateez #werewolf mingi #werewolf ateez #kpop #spooky ateez #spooky mingi #spooky kpop

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talicat713 · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Always Been Molly

John Shelby x OC

Part Sixteen

*GIF CREDIT TO ORGINIAL POSTER*

A/N: hi all! Another update is here! I do want to let everyone know that I have the rest of the story planned out so I’m thinking, if all goes well, four more parts until the end of the story 😬 BUT I am thinking about doing something special that involves you guys once the story is finished. I hope you all enjoy this update and have a wonderful week! Talk to you next week🤞🏼 Much love💜

Warnings: language, angst, breastfeeding, cursing, *sorry if I missed any*

READ PARTS 1-15 HERE

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Taglist: @haphazardhufflepuff @pijoendios @theshelbyclan @wnygirl2012 @bekkimahonxx95 @pleasantlyspookycreation @lovemissyhoneybee @shelundeadxxxx @lotsoflovefromlea @theunderlier @envysorrows @healthygirlsdoitbetter @account71453 @blindedbypeaky @xshinytrashcanx @wednesdayqueen-18 @chaotichurricaneoffandoms @jrdpdlcki @lettersshapes @rosesandrap @jenni-jones00 *if you would like to be added please let me know*

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Previously:

“I called this meeting tonight to let you all know I’ve set up another meeting with the Lees. It will be in two days at Charlie’s Yard. I’ve arranged a nanny for your children and Karl. Benjamin and Eleanor will come with us,” Thomas states,” But before I plead my case with them, I would like to share with you both my plan of getting Zilpha to annul the marriage.”

Tommy then grabs a file folder from Polly and begins to lay out photos onto the table. Molly and John look at the photos in silence for a little while. It wasn’t until Molly picked up a photo of a man, that looked like her brother, and a woman kissing outside a pregnancy clinic.

A sudden rush of realization hits Molly,” This is Jacob,” she says looking at the photo. As she looks closer at the woman in the photo, her eyes widen, “And is this... Esme?”

=================================

The room was silent. No one wanted to speak up. Molly was still very confused,” Esme is pregnant... And it’s my brothers? Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?”

Polly sighed,” There isn’t much else to explain love. You told me and Ada he hasn’t been coming home for a while and John says she’s been throwing up every day for weeks. I’m not surprised their affair came to this.”

While Molly continued to look at the photos, John finally spoke up,” Who took these? How long have you been having her followed?”

“We’ve had a Blinder on her since the first time she went to her brothers,” Arthur answered.

“But she actually went to her brothers that time,” Thomas continued,” Any other time she said she was going to her brothers, she actually went to a hotel a few towns over and met with Jacob. I’d say she’s been stepping out on you since your fourth month of marriage.”

Molly couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing. She couldn’t believe that Jacob would choose to have a relationship with a woman who was married. She then thought about the baby that was on its way. Could it be John’s?

“John, could the baby be yours? ,” Molly asked quietly.

Johns eyes widened with shock, and he shook his head,” No my love. We never consummated our marriage.” John then grabbed Molly’s chin and made her look at him,” I was so angry that the thought of having sex with her never crossed my mind. And then finding out you were pregnant made me just want to be with you even more,” he said as he pulled her face to his lips,” It’s always been you Molly.”

The two shared a kiss as tears fell from Molly’s eyes. The silent room, then filled with Eleanor's soft cry’s. Ada quickly stood from the table to grab her before she woke her brother. Ada then handed the baby to her mother, who snuggled the baby close.

“So the plan is to get them to admit the affair at the meeting? ,” Molly asked after she settled the baby.

“Yes,” Thomas continues,” and if they try to deny it, then we will hit them with the evidence.”

“Tomorrow I should have proof of the pregnancy from the clinic,” Polly added.

“How’d you manage to get that? ,” Ada asks.

“Oh Ada,” Polly smiles,” us Shelby’s are wonderful liars.”

“You used my name Pol? ,” Molly asked,” It would be the only way. I am the only registered medical professional in this family.”

The entire family looked at Polly for an answer,” Well of course I did,” she confessed,” I would have asked you to do it anyways. I just wanted to make sure we had the papers before the meeting.”

“Polly, that illegally obtained medical information! We can’t use that against them,” Ada exclaimed.

“I’m sure Zilpha will know she is expecting the moment she speaks with her, so hopefully we won’t have to use it,” Thomas interjects,” Either way, are you both okay with me using this information to plead my case?”

“Of course I am Tom,” John answers,” I’d do anything to be with the love of my life and have my family be together.”

Thomas nodded and then looked at Molly,” What’s going to happen to Jacob? ,” she asked,” Do you think they will keep the truce even though he isn't a Shelby?”

“Molly, you and Jacob have been honorary Shelby’s since the day your mother met ours and Polly. Heck, I think our grandmothers grew up together,” Thomas answers,” If this doesn’t hold the truce, but annuals the marriage then I will be fine with that. I just want you and my brother to finally be happy.”

Molly nodded,” Okay then, I’m fine with this.”

“Well, good, then I will see everyone back here in two days. We will all go to Charlie’s together,” Thomas says as he gets up from the table. Everyone nodded their heads and started to leave for the night.

Molly hasn’t moved from the table. She was still deep in thought, trying to process everything. She was taken out of her thoughts when John placed a gentle hand on her shoulder,” Let’s get you three back home love.” Molly nodded as John took Eleanor from her and placed her back in the pram with her brother.

Once they got back to Molly’s, John helped get the babies to sleep while Molly got ready for bed. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow love,” John says, placing a kiss on Molly’s forehead. Molly mumbled an answer as she snuggled into her bed. John turned her light out and made his way back to his home.

Molly never did fall asleep. She was still processing all the new information she received that evening. She said some silent prayers that whatever the outcome of this meeting was, she hoped she wasn’t going to have her heart broken again.

=================================

The next day, Molly and the babies spent a good amount of the morning and afternoon with Polly. They had taken a trip to the clinic to pick up the documents. It was true, Esme was about three months along.

Molly continued to be shocked at all the information. She knew she needed to get Jacob alone before tomorrow to have him explain.

“You are still very distracted, aren’t you dear? ,” Polly asked, taking a slip of her tea. The two had stopped at a local café so Molly could feed the babies.

“I just don’t understand Pol,” Molly sighs,” Did he purposely go after her or did they just happen to fall for each other?” Molly wipes her eyes and continued,” I need answers which I would prefer to get before the bloody meeting.”

“Have you slept at all love? ,” Polly asks.

Molly gives her a confused look,” No, I couldn’t sleep last night and the babies are walking up in the middle of the night more, but what does this have to do about Jacob and Esme.?”

Polly smiles softly,” I just think you are over thinking and emotional because you are exhausted, so let’s get you home to take a nap.”

Polly then gathers their things while Molly situates the babies in the pram, “I’m not being emotional. I’m just confused and tired, so I’m not going to fight you today about a nap.”

Polly chuckles while rolling her eyes,” Good! I’ll let John know that you are home, so he can stop over after he finishes at the shop.”

The two women walk back to Watery Lane in silence. Polly stops at the betting shop while Molly continues to her home. Once Polly can see Molly is in her home, she walks into the betting shop to find John. She finds him in his office going over some papers.

“John, Molly and the babies are off to take a nap. I think she would enjoy a visit after you are finished,” Polly suggests as she entered the room.

“Nap? Molly doesn’t usually sleep when the babies sleep during the day,” John states, “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine, just exhausted,” Polly says,” Your children are keeping her up more at night, and she’s been worrying about this meeting.”

John sighs,” She never said anything.”

“That’s because she doesn’t want to pull you away from your marriage and other children,” Polly exclaimed,” But hopefully tomorrow that will change. Just make sure you go see her.” Polly then left the room while John leaned his head back against his chair, hoping Polly would be right and this would all be over soon.

=================================

Molly was awoken by a loud bang coming from her kitchen and the cries of her babies. Jumping out of bed, she ran to the nursery only to find the babies not in their bassinets. Molly started to panic as she ran out of the room and down the stairs.

John cursed to himself as he dropped a pan onto the floor. He had taken Polly's advice and gone over to Molly’s after he finished work. His plan was to surprise her with dinner, but that wasn’t working out in his favor.

He heard Molly run down the stairs, with a panicked look on her face. He quickly walked over to her, grabbing her waist,” Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s just me,” he spoke softly, trying to calm her.

“Fuck, John, I thought there was a bloody burglar in my house,” she replied, gripping onto his shoulders,” What are you doing here? Why did you take the babies from the nursery?”

John pulled her into him, resting her head on his chest,” I’m sorry for scaring you love. Polly said you were napping and I thought you would enjoy some dinner. Ben and Ellie woke up as I let myself in and I didn’t want them to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

After taking a couple deep breaths, Molly pulled away from John, “Well, I appreciate you letting me sleep, but where’s my dinner,” she smiled up at him.

“Well, if I knew where you kept all your pots and pans, it would be almost done,” John smiled back at her,” I think our little ones might be hungry. You feed them while I make you dinner.” Molly nodded, placing a kiss onto Johns cheek.

The two sat and talked while John cooked and Molly fed the babies. Once they finished, Molly put them in their bassinets in the parlor and finished helping John cook. The two sat in silence for a while until John spoke up,” Molly, how come you haven’t told me you haven’t been sleeping?”

Molly sighs, looking down at her plate,” I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to take you away from your other children.” Molly then looked up at John,” They need you more than ever right now. Everything in their lives is uncertain and changing right now. I didn’t want to be the reason you weren’t with them, so I didn’t say anything to anyone.”

John gave Molly a sad smile,” I’m sure after some explaining they would understand love.”

“What’s going on is something children should never have to go through. I didn’t want to tell you this, but Katie opened up to me about her fears of me and the babies taking you away,” Molly admitted, as tears fell from her eyes,” It truly broke my heart, and I promised her I would never take you away from them.”

John reached over to wipe her tears,” I’m sorry love. I’m sorry you have had to deal with this. If we had just agreed to tell everyone we were back together, this situation would have never happened. This is all my fault.”

“John, you can’t take all the blame. I didn’t want to tell anyone either. Hopefully tomorrow will sort everything out. Why don’t you get back home and I’ll clean up,” Molly says as she stands up.

John just nods as he stands and brings the dishes to the sink. He pulls Molly into him before he leaves. The two stand in the middle of the kitchen holding each other, neither wanting to let go. John sighs, then placed a kiss onto Molly’s forehead,” I will see you in the morning okay. Try to get some sleep.” Molly nods her head and pulls away. John then grabs his coat and heads out the door toward his home.

A little while after John leaves, Molly hears the babies start to wake up. She makes her way over to the bassinets,” Well hello my little loves,” she coos as she leans over to pick them both up,” I hope you had a good nap. Are you both hungry? I’m sure you are! You know sooner or later you both won’t fit in the same bassinet.”

Both babies look up at their mum with big gummy grins. Molly chuckles and makes her way to the sofa. She continued to talk to them while they both ate. Molly couldn’t help but wonder what feeding times would be like in the future. Would they be just like this, her alone in her home or would she be watching Johns other children run around? She was still hoping and praying of the latter. Once the babies were finished eating, Molly gave them a bath and got them ready for bed.

She then went downstairs to clean up the mess John made in her kitchen. While she was doing dishes, she heard the front door open and shut. She looked over and saw Jacob taking off his cap and coat,” I’ve got a plate of dinner here for you if you are hungry,” she said gesturing to the plate by the oven.

“I’m starving sister, thank you,” Jacob answers.

Molly turns around with a soft smile,” Go wash up and I’ll heat this back up.”

Jacob ran upstairs and returned minutes later,” Smells so good sis, thank you,” he said as he dug into his plate.

Molly sat down at the table with him,” The meeting with the Lees is tomorrow. Tommy wants us all to be there.”

“Okay,” Jacob answered, looking up at Molly then down at his food.

Molly sighed,” Is there anything I need to know before we go tomorrow? ,” she asked, hoping to get the answers she been looking for.

Jacob looked up at Molly again nervously,” No? Why would I have something to contribute?”

“Just tell me the truth, Jake. I know you’ve been sneaking around with Esme and that she’s pregnant with YOUR baby. We all know, but I need to know if you did this on purpose so John and I could be together. I need to know Jake, please just tell me the truth,” Molly exclaims.

Jacob sets his fork down by his plate and leans back in his chair as he runs his hands over his face, “I know it looks like I went after her on purpose,” he says as he finally looks up ashamed,” But I promise you I didn’t. We met one night at the Garrison. At first, I didn’t realize who she was, but then I saw her walking Johns kids to school the next day and it clicked. We met for drinks a few more times after that, while John was at meetings and the nanny was watching the kids. We went out on dates and spent some nights together, but we were always careful. I guess we weren’t careful enough since she’s pregnant now.”

Jacob finally looks up at Molly, who has a surprised expression on her face. She is slowly taking in all the new information her baby brother just told her. The two sat in silence for a few minutes until Jacob cleared his throat,” Well, are you going to say something? ,” he asked nervously.

“Yes, I’m sorry. It’s a lot of information to take in,” she answers,” When did you meet her and how did you not know she was Johns wife?”

“We met a few weeks before John found out you were pregnant. I wasn’t at the wedding, and she never told me she was married. We didn’t agree to start secretly seeing each other until after the first meeting,” Jacob answers.

Molly nods her head like she’s starting to understand how everything happened,” Does her mother know she’s pregnant? Also, why did you keep all of this from me?”

Jacob shakes his head,” I don’t think Zilpha knows yet. I didn’t say anything because I knew you were having a hard time with the pregnancy and after you had them. I didn’t want to add any more stress. Esme knows John doesn’t love her, and she doesn’t love him. She loves the children, but knows you love them more. She says she can feel an aura in the house that’s saying she doesn’t belong there. Esme told me she is going to sway her mother into the annulment. She thinks that’s the best she’ll be able to do. The truce will be between her mother and Tommy.”

Another round of silence hits between the two. Molly still is slowly processing all the new information. Jacob reaches across the table to grab Molly’s hand, pulling her from her thoughts,” Molly, I’m so sorry I kept this from you. I never meant to upset you.”

Molly smiles softly,” I’m not upset. Not anymore, at least, now that I know the truth.” Molly squeezes Jacobs hand,” Thank you for telling me. I feel better knowing the truth now than finding out tomorrow.”

The two smiled at each other, both relieved the truth was out in the open. They sat for a while, at the dining table, talking about what they hoped the future would be like. And after, the two made their way to their bedrooms to, hopefully, get some rest before the eventful day they would have tomorrow.

(posted 10/11/2020)

#John Shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x oc #john shelby imagine #john shelby imagines #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #talicat imagines

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

Text

Written In The Stars CXX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m learning to drive and the anxiety it gives me should be illegal why can’t we just apparate -Danny

Words: 2,883

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Already Gone’ -by Sleeping At Last

Chapter Eighteen: Inside His Mind.

"Not that I'm complaining," She heard Fred's voice from where she was, her arms tightly wrapped around his middle. "But I thought you wanted to be discrete?"

"This is just a hug," Mel murmured. "I'm sad."

"I see that," Fred was reading through the list of materials for his new products. "You shouldn't be sad though, you got a place in the team, didn't you? We're hoping you'll make us proud, Ginny as well."

"Thank you," She said. "But that's not what worries me right now. I just heard that Flint's Grandad... he's gone."

Fred stopped reading.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he'd been ill for a while... Erick looked terrible."

"Well, that's how you look after you lose someone."

"I acted like an idiot," She groaned. "I just stood there..."

"For the best, if I'm honest," He continued. "Some people don't react well to hugs when they're in shock. What if someone had walked in on you hugging a Slytherin? That's bad for everyone involved."

"I'm her friend, to hell with the gossip..."

"I wasn't talking about the gossip," The boy replied. "He's been helping us a great deal by keeping the prefects of his house away from the D.A. I'm really sorry about his Grandad, he helped us to get a great deal for a little flat on Diagon Alley, but we have to be careful; if someone sees him acting too friendly with any of us that wouldn't help him, would it?"

"I guess not," Mel propped herself up and away from his chest. "I still think I could've done more."

Fred gave her a serious look.

"Your schedule is full all the time, you barely have time to sit and sulk on me!"

"That sounds terrible," Mel blushed.

"Well it's true, you only come to your dear boy-friend," He smirked, knowing how flustered Mel got, "to complain about how hard life is. I don't mind being a shoulder to cry on, but maybe you could compensate afterwards?"

"How?"

His smile widened.

"Get out," Mel slipped away from his grip, crossing her arms. "Leave before I hex you."

"Oh, c'mon!" Fred laughed. "Not even a good night kiss?"

"Fred!"

He laughed louder, standing up and lifting his hands in surrender, his notebook under one arm.

"Fine," He sighed. "I'm just saying, you'll miss me during the next weeks, you'll be all alone in Grimmauld Place and I'll be at the burrow..."

"I've created a monster," Mel groaned, feeling her face burning.

Twenty minutes later she was finishing her History of Magic essay, her eyes slowly giving up in the dim firelight. Ron was laying across the rug and Hermione was next to her, writing the longest letter ever to Krum. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but she didn't worry about it, if he were in danger she'd be able to feel it.

He came back eventually and sat down quietly in front of the girls.

"What kept you?" Ron asked.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione glanced at him, noticing his silence.

He didn't answer, Mel lifted her gaze. Harry was pale.

"What's up?" Ron insisted, leaning on his elbow. "What's happened?"

Harry shook his head slightly, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He glanced at Mel nervously, and she was surprised when he immediately darted his eyes away, his hands closing into fists to avoid shaking.

"Is it Cho?" Hermione asked knowingly. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"

Mel had noticed the Ravenclaw staying behind, staring at Cedric's picture, but she didn't think much of it because her mind was already swirling, too busy to focus on the girl Harry had a crush on.

Ron let out a silly giggle.

"So — er — what did she want?" The boy asked.

"She —" Harry started, but when his eyes found Mel's again his voice faltered and he had to stop to clear his throat. "She — er —"

"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione bluntly, trying to finish with it as fast as possible for the sake of her friends' sanity.

Ron sat up and accidentally pushed his ink making a mess on the rug. None of them moved to fix it.

"Well?"

Those ten seconds felt like a lifetime. Harry stared at Ron, then at Hermione. When he gathered the courage to look at her, he frowned slightly, a short and silent nod making its way out.

"HA!"

Three second-years that were sitting near them jumped. Ron's laughter filled the room and for the first time in her life, Mel didn't follow. Harry was waiting for her reaction, which was weird considering she'd hidden away when Harry found out she'd kissed Fred. Didn't he know it was awful to ask for her opinion?

They had spent months in blissful secrecy, escaping to secluded places and holding hands, he couldn't lie to himself saying he'd never felt something for her. Yet he was, and she was doing the same thing. This whole thing felt like a joke, but she had to be fair and give him the same freedom he'd given her, no dirty looks, no insults.

Harry had every right to be with someone when they hadn't worked out. Even if she was bitter, at the end of the day she wasn't planning on giving up whatever she had with Fred, and who knew? Maybe Cho would be a better match for Harry.

"Glad to see she finally worked up the courage," Mel said lowly. "You should've seen the way she would stare at you during every meeting..."

Harry was too transparent when it came to his emotions, and at that moment, a little smile crept up his face as he looked down, clearly pleased.

"Well? How was it?" Ron's laughing fit finally stopped, and now he was looking at his best friend with eager eyes.

Harry's smile faltered and he frowned.

"Wet," He replied shortly.

Ron made a noise between a snort and a groan, Mel looked at Harry with mild confusion. Surely he had a better way to describe a kiss than just 'wet'?

"Because she was crying," Harry explained further.

"Oh," Ron said, then his face filled with pity. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," His expression changed, panicking. "Maybe I am..."

"No, you're not!" Mel blurted out.

"How do you know?" Ron asked her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," said Hermione, saving her without noticing. "She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place."

"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," Ron joked.

"Ron," Hermione straightened in her place and took a deep breath, "you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

Mel snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean? What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?" Ron argued.

"Yeah," said Harry, still worried. "Who does?"

Hermione looked at the boys with a sad little expression; then she looked at Mel waiting for her to say something. Mel merely shrugged.

"Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" Hermione asked softly.

"No," said the boys.

Mel rolled her eyes. Hermione, who couldn't help herself, started to explain everything.

"Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings toward Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."

"I can relate to that," Mel sighed. "Minus the flying, I mean, I managed to get in the team after all—" Hermione hushed her.

"How can you relate to that?" Ron asked in disbelief. "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode!"

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione sharply.

"That explains why you haven't been kissed, Ronnie," Mel teased.

"You've kissed my brother once, you can't talk!"

Mel had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't say she'd kissed someone else apart from Fred Weasley.

"She was the one who started it!" Harry exclaimed over their bickering. "I wouldn't've — she just sort of came at me — and next thing she's crying all over me — I didn't know what to do —"

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron, shivers running up his spine.

"You just had to be nice to her," said Hermione, then she stopped writing once more and looked up. "You were, weren't you?"

"Well... I sort of — patted her on the back a bit."

"Dear Merlin..." Mel ran a hand over her face in embarrassment. "Why are you like this?"

"Well, I suppose it could have been worse," Hermione said with contained annoyance. "Are you going to see her again?"

"I'll have to, won't I? We've got D.A. meetings, haven't we?"

"You know what I mean."

Harry's face was a bunch of mixed emotions, she wondered if Ron was seeing what she was seeing, then maybe he'd be able to believe one could possibly feel many things at once.

"Oh well," said Hermione simply, "you'll have plenty of opportunities to ask her..."

"What if he doesn't want to ask her?" Ron said bravely.

"Don't be silly! Harry likes her, don't you, Harry?"

The boy glanced at Mel again and she pretended to be busy putting all her stuff inside her bag.

"Who're you writing the novel to anyway?" Ron asked, saving Harry the trouble of admitting something that could damage their thin bond even further.

"Viktor."

"Krum?"

"How many other Viktors do we know?"

Mel sat there in silence, a mix of second-hand embarrassment for Harry and something like a sharp, little sting in her chest that she was sure had to do with him as well. She thought about Erick and wondered if it was a good idea to plan a meeting for the next day so they could talk about all the things that were happening in such a short amount of time.

"Well, 'night," said Hermione as she finally finished her letter to Krum. "You're coming, Mel?"

"Yeah," She stood up.

Harry got up abruptly as well, Mel froze in place and stared at him.

"What?" She asked.

In the end, he picked up his own bag and nudged Ron's leg.

"Nothing— We're going too, right Ron?"

"Yup!" Ron stood up, his bag already on his shoulder.

"Okay..." Mel said, still feeling slightly uneasy about his behaviour. "See you..."

When it was just the two girls in the room, Hermione sneaked her way into her bed and sat down.

"I think it was nice of you to be kind to Harry, he was quite upset."

"It's not really my place to be rude, is it? I'm with Fred now... sort of."

"Yes, you are," Hermione said in a tone that sounded like she could tell Mel was having doubts. "And you're happy with him. There's no need to overthink it now."

"No," Mel sighed. "I feel bad for him though, their kiss wasn't ideal."

"Well, your first kiss wasn't perfect either," Hermione shrugged. "You simply threw yourself at Fred in front of everyone while he was in a temper..."

Mel's cheeks felt warm. She wanted to reply with 'That wasn't my first kiss.' But that would only provide a context Hermione did not need to know.

The girl laid on her bed and against her own will, thought about the very first night Harry had kissed her. Back then he looked like he knew what he was doing, but she couldn't blame him. Mel wasn't crying when they'd kissed. She was beaming with joy. For only a second, she felt happy that Harry could count that as his first.

Then a bitter voice that would come to her more often than not came to interrupt her thoughts.

'Well, he could've had more of those if only he hadn't tried to play the hero with you. He deserved that! He can't take you back whenever he pleases...'

No, he can't, Mel agreed.

At some point after falling asleep, Mel started to have a very strange dream. She felt her body on the bed, but the setting was slightly different, the light was coming from the wrong side of the room and she was wearing a different set of pyjamas.

A sharp pain shot up her forearm and cracked open her skull, or at least, that's how it felt. She let out a sharp cry, sitting up abruptly. When she opened her eyes she realized she was back on her bed, not only that, but she finally knew why the one in her dream had looked slightly different. It was the boys' room.

She got up, sweating profusely and feeling nausea. Luckily for her, her scream hadn't woken up her roommates, and she could leave the room without them noticing. When she reached the stairs she ran into Neville, who was looking really pale.

"Mel!" His eyes widened in relief. "You heard him? He's really ill..."

"What happened?"

"He–He woke up screaming and threw up..."

"Go get McGonagall," She urged him. "I'll take care in the meantime, go!"

Neville nodded and left, she walked into the room and the boys turned to look at her. Dean moved away so she could get to Harry.

"Harry, mate," Ron was saying, "you... you were just dreaming..."

"No!" He cleaned his face hastily, there was vomit on the floor, next to his bed. "It wasn't a dream... not an ordinary dream... I was there, I saw it... I did it..."

"He's talking nonsense since he woke up," Seamus told her. "He's saying Ron's dad was attacked."

Mel felt something cold run down her back. Harry gawked again and Ron jumped.

"Harry, you're not well," He said. "Neville's gone for help..."

"I'm fine!" Harry coughed, shaking uncontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about — we need to find out where he is — he's bleeding like mad — I was — it was a huge snake..."

"Move over," Mel said in a determined voice.

Ron hadn't noticed her until she spoke, he seemed relieved to have her there.

"Harry," She supported one leg on the mattress, trying not to step on the vomit. "What happened?"

"You have to believe me," He said hoarsely. "I swear it wasn't a dream— We have to—"

"I believe you," She said. "I can feel it, remember?"

Harry blinked, a worried expression on his face.

"Yes... I remember..."

"Good," She held his face firmly and stared into his eyes. "Now, show me what you saw."

"What?"

"Think about your dream," She explained. "I'll see it."

She wasn't an expert at Legilimancy yet, but now was the perfect time to make use of her hours studying the subject. Wouldn't hurt to try...

Harry nodded and stared back at her, his frown deepening as he tried to recall every little detail.

It was the strangest sensation, getting pulled into someone else's thoughts. She saw the dark hall, Mr Weasley's body covered in blood in a place that looked slightly familiar. The weirdest part of all was that Harry had seen it from the creature's point of view— What did he say it was? A snake..?

Mel blinked, stumbling away from Harry and feeling Dean and Seamus holding her so she wouldn't fall.

"Merlin, that was hard..."

"What did you do?"

"I saw... I read his mind," She said dryly.

"You what?"

"Don't go around telling this to other people!" She warned them. "I mean it, this is a secret!"

"Fine!" Ron exclaimed. "But what did you see?"

Before she could reply, Neville and McGonagall entered the room.

"What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?"

"It's Ron's dad," Harry sat up again. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen. Mel saw it!"

"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" Professor McGonagall frowned. "What do you mean Mel saw it?"

"I don't know... I was asleep and then I was there..."

"You mean you dreamed this?"

"No! I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it, Mr Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is..."

"It's true," Mel added hurriedly. "It woke me up— You... you know what that means, right?"

"I'm not lying, and I'm not mad!" Harry insisted. "I tell you, I saw it happen! Mel did something a second ago, she saw my thoughts!"

"I believe you, children," said Professor McGonagall. "Put on your dressing-gown, both of you. We're going to see the headmaster."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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annerbhp · 4 years ago

Text

Lucky

- part one

- part two

- part three

- part four

- part five

- part six

- part seven

- part eight

Part Nine

Harry can confidently say that he has never passed quite so pleasant of an afternoon on the Hogwarts Express in his life.

And it’s not just because he gets to spend a great deal of it kissing Ginny.

Kissing Ginny. He still has a hard time believing it, despite the fact that she is still sitting right next to him, her arm pressed against his. Solid and real.

It’s something he’d been imagining and uncomfortably dreaming about for a while now, but not something he ever had hopes of actually coming true. And the real thing is so much better than his sodding pillow. So, so much better.

They haven’t spent the entire time kissing, of course, just as content to chat aimlessly, and for all Ginny is sometimes a complete mystery to him, they never seem to lack things to talk about. She also doesn��t always agree with him, having a way of asking him questions that make him pause and consider, but not feel like she’s nagging him, and he isn’t really sure why that is yet.

Even when they aren’t though, like right now, he doesn’t feel panic like he has to come up with something. They aren’t kissing or talking, just sitting here, and it’s strangely…great.

Like it’s maybe too good to be true.

“What?” Ginny asks.

Harry shakes himself, realizing he’s just staring down at her, and he really needs to quit doing that. Especially with their imminent arrival approaching. And holidays at the Burrow. For two weeks. With her entire family.

That thought helps wipe whatever ridiculous expression he’s doubtlessly sporting at the moment. “Nothing,” he says.

“Hmm,” she says, like she doesn’t buy that for a moment, but she also doesn’t press.

There’s a knock on the compartment door just a moment before it stars sliding open. “I’m coming in,” Hermione announces.

“Yeah, we can see that,” Harry says.

“Oh,” Hermione says, glancing at them. “I just wasn’t sure…”

“Don’t worry,” Ginny says, voice overly bright. “We finished with our illegal potion-making at least, what?” She turns to Harry. “An hour ago?”

Harry nods. “Sold them all too. Hope that first year doesn’t misuse that Draught of Living Death.”

Ginny shakes her head solemnly. “That would be a shame.”

“Or mix it up with the love potion,” he says.

Ginny stifles a laugh, turning her face towards his shoulder, and Harry suddenly feels like he could take on a thousand dementors.

Hermione just sighs, grumbling under her breath about how unbearable couples are.

Ginny looks up at him, eyes still sparkling with mirth, and he nearly leans over and kisses her.

“I should probably get back,” she says.

Almost against his will, his hand tightens around hers, and it’s only then he realizes her hand has ended up in his at some point and hasn’t left.

Ginny’s eyes dart towards Hermione, and he supposes she feels they’ve tortured her enough for one day. “I should go say goodbye to Smita and Tobias and get my things.”

“Yeah,” he says, knowing it would be petty to make her stay any longer. “I guess I’ll see you on the platform.”

She nods. “Yes, you will,” she says, and then she’s lifting up and giving him a fleeting kiss, just to the side of his mouth, like this is something they might do now.

She pulls away, looking a little self-conscious, and all Harry can do is look back at her, certain that stupid look is on his face again.

She gets to her feet, her hand squeezing his once before pulling free. She looks over at Hermione. “I hope you have a nice break, Hermione.”

She looks up at Ginny. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to a little peace and quiet.”

Ginny laughs. “I can only imagine.” They regard each other for a moment. “Well, happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas,” Hermione says with a nod.

Ginny turns for the door, smiling at Harry before reaching for the latch.

He doesn’t think he’s imagining that she takes an extra moment before opening the door, her shoulders squaring and chin lifting. He only catches a glimpse of her face as she leaves, just enough to see that any warmth or softness in her expression have completely disappeared.

Harry thinks he hears someone say her name in the distance before the door slides shut, cutting off all sound from the hall.

* * *

The platform is loud with crowds of people, steam billowing up over the sound of various pets complaining against too many hours spent in cages. Calls of ‘Mum? Where are you?’ and ‘Dad! Over here!’ and ‘See you next term!’

They find Hermione’s parents first, Harry saying goodbye to her before glancing around for the Weasleys. Ron is already with them when Harry finds them.

Molly sweeps him up into a hug, Arthur shaking his hand.

“Now where is Ginny?” Molly asks, looking around.

“You seen her, Harry?” Ron asks, with an all-too-innocent tone that tells Harry he clearly saw his sister come down to the Gryffindor end of the train. Though why he would say that in front of his parents, of all people…

“Um,” Harry says, panicking.

“Neither of you saw her?” Molly asks.

“I walked right past you, Ron, at least twice,” Ginny says, appearing as if from nowhere. “Though I can understand why you might not have seen me, distracted as you were.”

With Lavender attached to his face, Harry assumes she means.

Molly frowns, glancing at her son. “Why were you distracted, Ron? What have you been getting up to?”

Ron sputters, ears turning red.

“Oh, nothing,” Ginny says breezily, as if her threat to expose Ron’s relationship with Lavender hadn’t been delivered loud and clear. “He was just really into a chess match. I think he probably took a small fortune off his dormmates.”

“Ron,” Molly says, clucking her tongue. “What have I said about gambling? Did you brothers’ experience at the World Cup teach you nothing?”

“I promise, Mum,” Ron says, looking relieved. “I wasn’t doing it for money.”

Ginny lets out a quiet huff of amusement and then crosses over to Arthur, giving him a giant squeeze. Arthur lifts her up off her feet a little bit, Ginny laughing and smacking his arm.

“Dad, put me down!”

He drops her back to her feet, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, clearly content to have mortified his daughter just the right amount.

“Shall we get moving?” Arthur asks.

They collect up their things, pressing close as they line up to go out through the barrier. At one point, Ginny brushes up against Harry, grinning at him, his stomach doing a silly little swoop that nearly sends him crashing into the wrong pillar.

Once safely out on the other side of the barrier, Tonks and Kingsley are waiting for them.

“Wotcher, Harry,” she says with a grin, snapping a giant pink wad of bubble gum.

“Are you expecting trouble?” Harry asks. It’s not that he isn’t happy to see them, it just seems a bit overkill.

Kingsley smiles at him. “Just being cautious.”

“Right,” Harry says, the whole world seeming to rush back in at once.

***

In the cars provided by the Ministry, Ginny sits between Tonks and her mum, Harry, Ron and her dad sitting opposite, with Kingsley in the front with the driver. They’ll likely get home in half as much time this way.

Harry, of course, seems to think it’s a giant imposition on everyone, like it’s a lot of fuss over nothing. Ginny isn’t sure if it is or not. Tonks and Kingsley hardly seem the sort for overreaction. But then, there’s a lot she doesn’t know about the situation.

Ginny amuses herself by talking with Tonks, even as she is more than aware of the strange stony silence between Ron and Harry, the two of them giving each other looks when the other doesn’t see.

It’s enough to make her wonder exactly what kind of conversations they’ve had about Harry dating Ginny.

Dating. That still seems completely unreal to her. What is that even going to look like?

Harry looks up, catching her staring, giving her a fleeting smile before darting a look at her parents, as if wondering if they’ll see.

Ginny sighs.

In no time at all, they’re pulling up to the Burrow, unloading their things and saying goodbye to the aurors. Ginny runs her things up to her room, the space feeling familiar and yet too small somehow, the way it always does when she first comes back.

She takes the time to unpack everything, telling herself she’s just being responsible and not that she’s trying to buy herself time.

Two things have become abundantly clear this afternoon. One, Harry is clearly less than comfortable with the situation. And two, Ron is planning to get as much mileage out of last night as possible. Ginny suspects her warning shot back on the train platform will only go so far. Ron may very well decide short term payoff is worth his long-term misery, stupid sod. Which will only make Harry more miserable.

Only made clearer when it’s time to sit down at the dinner table, Ron and Harry having some sort of an unspoken staring contest. Like Harry might try to sit next to her or something. Like Ron is both egging him on and warning him against it. Merlin.

Ginny solves the problem by sitting down next to her father, leaving Harry and Ron to sit across from her like usual. She tries to glare at Ron, but he is deliberately not looking at her.

Harry is the one who is constantly looking around at everyone like any one of them might attack him at any moment. Like he’s really beginning to regret the entire thing.

In that moment, Ginny can see two long weeks of awkwardness ahead of them. That will only get worse as more and more of her brothers arrive. They probably should have spent a little less time on the train kissing and a little more time discussing how they were going to approach this.

Molly finally sits down with the rest of them, sighing a bit as she gets off her feet. “So how was the Christmas party?” she asks Ginny. “Were the robes alright?”

It’s hard to believe that was only last night. “They were great, Mum. You outdid yourself.”

Molly tries to demur but look really pleased.

“Harry went to the party too, you know,” Ron helpfully supplies, clearly hoping to make them both squirm as much as possible, the git. One would think he wanted his parents to know about Lavender. Like any of them have the tiniest hope of no news making its way out of Hogwarts to one of the many, many Weasleys.

“Oh,” Molly says, looking at Harry with a fond smile. “Did you enjoy yourself, dear?”

Harry looks like he’s about to swallow his tongue. “Um, yeah,” he says. “It was, uh, nice.”

Ginny can’t help but make a small sound of amusement at his word choice, and he looks up at her in alarm.

“It was fun,” he amends, like he’s scared he’s offended her, or made her think he hadn’t had a good time. “Really, really fun.”

Ron opens his mouth, no doubt ready to add to Harry’s discomfort, maybe mention how late Harry had come back to the dorms, and Ginny’s had just about enough of this.

“We went together,” she says, speaking over Ron. Cutting him off at the pass is definitely the quickest way to deal with this. She will not let him make them all miserable for sodding weeks.

Harry gives her a surprised look, like he wasn’t expecting her to just blurt it out like that.

“You and Harry?” Molly asks, immediately picking up on the blood in the water.

Ginny doesn’t reply, just holds Harry’s gaze, hoping he realizes that this is really the easiest way. Or maybe just giving him a chance to back out. Because part of her is wondering if he’ll deny it, play it off as something they did as friends, if he’d hoped to keep it secret or something. Maybe despite everything, he isn’t really interested in anything more than—

“Yes,” Harry says, voice forceful enough to cut into her thoughts. “We went together.”

Ron’s eyes are wide, as if he can’t believe they just admitted it like that.

Arthur looks up from his dinner as if he hadn’t really been paying attention until now, clearly trying to catch up.

It’s Molly who looks between them, as if trying to ferret out each and every clue. “How lovely,” she eventually says.

“It was,” Ginny says, still looking at Harry.

He smiles, his shoulders relaxing, like maybe he’d expected to get chucked out of the house or something. “Yeah.”

Ginny smiles back.

“So, Ron,” Molly says, looking across the table at her son. “About this gambling…”

Ron lets out a groan of complaint. “Mum!”

#lucky #annerbfic

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pawprintsmoon · 4 years ago

Text

Henry Knew

Henry had no energy. None. And yet, appearances must be upheld and somebody had to represent the crown for these international events. Besides, Bea had insisted that the sunshine in Rio would pull him out of the funk he was in. Loss is a funny thing. Like, that moment where you misplace the novel you were about to finish and it reminds you of your chronic existential crisis and misplaced sense of purpose. Similarly, a handsome boy from Oxford had just decided that secretly fucking His Royal Highness was ‘just too much,’ and that relatively insignificant loss reminded Henry of his father’s death just 12 months previous.

So, with a heart heavy with grief and the bitter aftertaste of another failed, secret gay affair, Henry found himself surrounded by thousands of people next to an Olympic swimming pool.

The cacophony of voices bouncing off a tall domed ceiling was overwhelming enough before Henry spotted the first son of the US. His smile was brighter than the Rio sun and his black curls flopped over sparkling brown eyes. He was so alive, and even from far away that amount of life force was contagious, lighting a small spark in Henry’s exhaustingly dark heart. He knew, even from a distance, that love from a boy like that would set him on fire, and that after such a fire, losing him would leave Henry as a pile of ashes. He resolved to keep his distance.

But, of course, the First Son of the US approached him.

“Hey, I’m Alex,” said the beautiful boy. Alex’s brown eyes raked him up and down, making him feel as scantily clad as the Olympic divers. This boy was anything but subtle. Henry couldn’t find words and Alex’s confident smile almost faltered. “My mom’s running for US President?”

His brown hand was outstretched and, remembering his manners, Henry shook it. Alex’s hand was dry and warm and just this small touch sent a hurricane of butterflies through Henry’s stomach. He quickly let go and wiped his hand on his pants to help shake off this absurdly instant attraction.

“Right. Henry.” He fixed his gaze on the yellow flower in Alex’s pocket. “Me, I mean. I’m Prince Henry. Of Wales.”

“I know.” Alex stepped closer and Henry spared a glance up to his face. Those eyelashes had to be illegal. “You’re taller than I would have guessed from your pictures. Broader shoulders too.” Again Henry couldn’t find words and a smirking Alex continued. “Pleasure to make your royal acquaintance.”

“Pleasure,” Henry replied. God, the way Alex was looking at him was practically indecent. Surely, everyone in the stadium could tell that he was checking Henry out. Surely, if he stayed to hit on Henry some more the poor prince would cave in and be destroyed.

So he turned away and quietly pleaded with Shaan to get rid of him. Shaan led Alex away and as they left, Henry spared him one last glance. The first son looked rather put out and Henry could understand why. A guy like that certainly wasn’t used to rejection.

When Henry got back to his hotel that night he spent more time than he would ever willingly admit combing through social media to find out everything he possibly could about Alex Claremont-Diaz. He was surprised to find that nowhere online did it reference Alex being attracted to men, which was strange considering he was a liberal Democrat and so obviously queer.

<AN: tell me if you want more! I have some more written, all canon compliant, Henry POV knowing how queer Alex is, pining and fluff. “5 times Henry just knew and one time Alex finally caught up.”>

#red white and royal blue #first prince #alex claremont diaz #henry prince of wales #fanfiction #fan fic #lgbt #mlm #henry knew

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svtskneecaps · 4 years ago

Text

in the rain

Yoon Jeonghan x (gender neutral) reader

Words: 3k

nothing says summer like spending hours upon hours in a car together. at least nothing’s boring with jeonghan

day 6 of a tct summer collection

(my masterlist)

There’s something about road trips, intoxicating and refreshing and energizing and addicting. There’s something about the ideal of cruising down the highway as the scenery flashes past quicker than you can see, rolling over the hills and saying hello to the horizon at the peaks.

And so what if the RV is old and can’t quite hold at 65 mph on any incline above 20 degrees, and so what if there are two beds and an air mattress for the five of you to split, and so what if Jeonghan blew half his meal budget on cheez its and peanut butter and Mingyu bought more noodles and meat and ingredients than you can fit in the cabinets for meals you probably can’t make on the RV stove, and Minghao brought wine and ritz crackers and Chan showed up with eight pounds of candy and about as much instant ramen, and so what if you almost ran out of gas in the dead space between towns and every time you turn things fall off shelves and counters and leave those in the back scrambling to make sure nothing breaks? Road trips are about the adventure (“Shut up, Jeonghan, they are!”) and a trip without complications is just driving next to cows, and what’s so special about that?

Jeonghan’s limbs had reportedly started to atrophy behind the wheel (“I’m petrifying into a tree, we have to switch out!”), so he’d pulled into a rest stop to allow time for everyone to stretch their legs in a way that wasn’t probably illegal. This particular rest stop, you notice, has several dinosaur statues lined up by the picnic tables, and there’s only one other group there, a rowdy family ferrying food to and from a camper parked nearby.

The younger three, naturally, gravitate directly for the dinosaurs, yelling, “Chan, it’s Chan!” (with the exception of Chan himself, who seemed split between joining the joke or pretending he didn’t know them). Mingyu swings himself onto the tallest of the brontosauri with infuriating ease.

“It’s not fair,” you complain, struggling to climb on while using the baby stegosaurus statue as a step. “He should be struggling the most! He doesn’t know how to use those limbs!”

Mingyu sticks his tongue out at you, scooting away. “Yes I do!”

“He’d make a good gas station balloon,” Minghao notes, a slight smirk on his face. Mingyu flips around to make a face at him too, but Minghao just raises the camera hanging around his neck and snaps a picture, his smile only growing.

Jeonghan eventually steps in and supports your foot so you can crawl onto the dinosaur’s back. By the time you pull him up behind you, the other three have finished with the brontosaurus and wandered over to the T-Rex.

“I can’t believe it, he’s not even going to take a picture.” You click your tongue. “What do we keep that kid around for?”

“Wine, mostly,” Jeonghan says.

You sigh. “He does have pretty good taste.” You take out your phone. “Well, who needs him anyway?”

It takes a little bit of maneuvering to get the dinosaur’s face in with both of yours. The sculptor made the dino’s face just a touch too tall for an easy photo op, but you manage. Jeonghan’s breath is hot on your neck as he presses against you, and you pretend it isn’t making your hair stand up.

And then the picture is taken and he slides off the side of the dinosaur, heading over to the T-Rex.

You stay on the brontosaurus for a moment, watching him laugh at Mingyu trying to lift Chan onto the dinosaur’s shoulders (his whole face lights up and his head goes back; he never laughs long but you can’t look away).

Then you go inside.

He comes up next to you while you’re watching the screen with the weather forecast, tracking the green blob of the storm swirling over the roads.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks.

“We’re gonna be driving into it,” you say, surveying it. “From what I can tell, it’s just rain, so we should be fine.”

“Should?”

You shrug. “If I say anything definitive I’m going to jinx it.” You keep your eyes on the map. “If it gets too bad we can find a spot to pull off the highway and wait for it to blow over.”

“We can’t just wait it out?”

“We’re running late as it is, I don’t know if we have that kind of time. Jihoon’s gonna be ticked if we don’t show and I refuse to get on his bad side.”

“Aw, he’s all talk.”

“I’ve heard Mingyu bring up the story of his guitar more times than I can count, I’d rather not get my own the first time I meet him in person.”

He snickers, and you glace to the side to see him looking at you. You turn your gaze back to the forecast and pretend your heartbeat is normal.

“Well, if he tries anything I’ll tell him the story of my old friends who crashed and died driving in a rainstorm,” Jeonghan says.

“You had friends who died?”

“Nope,” he says cheerfully, “but Jihoon can’t prove that.” He leans his head on your shoulder. “And I’d rather my answer not change because of some rainstorm, okay?”

“No worries,” you say, reaching over to run your fingers through his hair. “Quick but careful, that’s my motto. Nobody’s dying on this road trip.”

Death is not a good road trip adventure.

The clouds break as you follow the highway across the wide flat ranching fields. In seconds, the curvature of the earth’s horizon is masked by a curtain of rain. You flick on the headlights and slow down, sitting farther up in your seat as though that will let you see into the distance.

“Lucky this isn’t road trip season,” you say. You haven’t seen another car on the road for at least an hour.

“Yeah,” he echoes. “Lucky.”

His face is barely reflected in the window, distorting with each sweep of the wipers. You chance a glance. His knuckles are white on the armrest as he stares out the windshield.

“This is nothing,” you say. “It’s a baby storm. Did I ever tell you about the time I delivered pizzas during a hurricane?”

“Did they give you hazard pay?”

“Only like two bucks. Can you believe it?” You click your tongue. “Fuck Pizza Hut, am I right?”

He huffs something like a laugh, so you keep going. “Got a twenty dollar tip from this one guy who looked like he was in the middle of an intense dnd game, and I mean intense. Either that or it was a Lord of the Rings marathon, man looked like Gandalf.”

“But was it a good Gandalf?”

“I mean, I was convinced.”

“That’s not saying much, you were convinced by that kid in a hulk mask too.”

You gasp in mock outrage. “If I weren’t driving I’d smack you,” you threaten. “And he had the hands and bodysuit, too, he was the real deal! You couldn’t tell either!”

He actually snickers, but doesn’t argue. You’d both fought over the privilege of handing candy to the child, that last fall.

“And anyway, that wasn’t even the weirdest delivery I made that night.”

“I guess that makes sense, only the crazies call for a pizza in a hurricane.” His reflection in the window smiles, and even though you’re driving you dare to chance a glance; his face is lit up with a smile, his hand relaxed on the armrest. “Who was the weirdest?”

“Weird but wholesome, it was this older gentleman who spent like three minutes searching his wallet, I mean thank god he had a covered porch or I would’ve gotten even more soaked. His wife gave me these plums for a tip; I looked them up and it turns out they’re actually illegal, it was wild.”

He clicks his tongue. “You got tipped in illegal plums and you didn’t even share them with me?”

“This was before I met you guys. Those plums were long gone by the time I was in a spot to share them with you.” The pounding rain has died down enough that you feel confident enough to peel your hand away from the wheel to pat his thigh. “Don’t worry, if I get tipped in any other illegal foods I’ll be sure to share.”

He swats your hand away, but he’s laughing.

It’s still raining when you pull into the campground, but not pouring. A pleasant sprinkle, really. Jeonghan still complains about it as he and the others try to give you directions to back into the spot. Most of the directions conflict, and based on the way Minghao keeps shaking his head at the others, you probably could’ve been backed into the spot 30 minutes ago if not for-- well, whatever competition is going on behind you. Oh well.

By the time you finally throw the camper into park and get the awning pushed out, Mingyu has already gotten the portable grill out of the cabinet and set up outside, although he’s having trouble with the lighter. The RV is always stocked with six or seven of the stick lighters, but they’re pretty much guaranteed to be on their last dregs no matter when you try to use them. He’s already halfway through the collection, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pulls the spark trigger over and over, the flame only catching for a few seconds.

Jeonghan skips over, calling your name. “Come on,” he all but whines, “let’s go explore!”

“Weren’t you the one who was just complaining about how wet you were getting?” You glance out at the picnic table, which is still getting rained on even as Minghao and Chan struggle to drag it under cover.

“That was just because you were all safe and dry in the RV.” He wraps his arms around you and rubs his dripping hair against your shirt.

“Rude!” you yelp, pushing him away, but you’re laughing, and so is he. You huff, crossing your arms. “Well I was going to, until you started using me as your towel.”

“Well you’re all wet now, you can get a little more wet!”

There’s a barely a damp spot on your shoulder, but he’s got a shit eating expression and even that lights up his face.

“Oh no,” you say, “I’m soaked.”

He grins and takes you by the arm, dragging you fully into the rain. “We’ll be back in an hour,” he calls.

“Text me if you find the bathrooms,” Chan hollers back.

There’s a surprising amount of other campers parked around. A few have adults sitting on folding chairs, outside under an awning, cans in their hands. They wave cheerfully as you pass.

“That’s probably the bathroom,” you note, pointing at the building. It’s so dirty on the outside that you wonder if maybe it would be better in the long run to just take turns in the RV’s shower; most outdoor bathrooms like this are pretty gross inside.

“I’ll text Channie.” Jeonghan takes out his phone, bowing his head to block the screen and types out the message. You giggle watching his wet fingers slip across the screen. He bats distractedly in your general direction, finally managing to land a hit only once the message is sent, his phone in his pocket once again.

You find a playground at the bend in the road, where it doubles back to wind around to the exit. Jeonghan shouts, “Race you!” and takes off across the slick grass.

“False start!” you yell back, and even though he has way too much of a lead for you to catch up, you still take off after him. You see his foot slip out from underneath him once or twice, but the speed of his run keeps him from falling entirely. It makes for a funny picture either way, and you find yourself slipping as you laugh.

He seizes one of the swings, all but launching himself into the air. You skirt around his feet, ducking under his hand as he reaches out, as though to pat your head on the way by. There’s a puddle of water in the swing, but you’re already soaked from the rain that patters steadily onto your head, so what’s a little more?

Still, you wipe it off before you sit down.

Within moments, you’ve caught up to his altitude, the height of each swing leaving you floating at the peak before gravity takes over, jolting you onto the seat again.

“You’re better than I thought,” he says, flying past you, going forward as you swing back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your head follows him as you swing by again.

“Nothing.” You hear the grin in his voice.

“I’ll have you know, I was the swingset champion in every school and every camp I ever went to.”

“How many schools did you go to that had a swingset?”

“Sir that is entirely beside the point.”

His laugh rings out. “Right, right, of course.” Rain hits your face as you swing forward (or maybe your face hits the rain?). “I suppose that means you’ve gone all the way around the top bar before?”

“Of course,” you say. “And I nailed a kid in the head with a paper airplane from the peak of a jump off the swing.”

That seems to pique his interest. “Yeah? How many times did you manage that?”

“Once, and then they sent me to the office bc the kid started crying, but it was a good once.”

“If I gave you my shoe, would you be able to throw it to me from the swing?”

You almost slip off the swing. “Jeonghan I’m not going to throw a shoe at your head!”

“Not at my head! Just, to me. Like a gentle toss, so I can catch it and no one receives any bodily harm on the road trip.”

You breathe out. That makes more sense. Bodily harm is not a good road trip adventure.

He digs his feet into the trenches below the swing to stop his momentum, stumbling forward across the playground. He tosses a couple woodchips at you when you giggle, before slipping his shoe off.

“Dude, you’re gonna get your foot all muddy and then what?”

He yanks off his sock. “Then you’ll have to carry me to the RV sink.”

“Or I’ll hose you down in the yard; I saw a couple spigots on the way over and those bitches are icy cold.”

He wipes the shoe in the grass before lining up the shot, planting his foot on the ground. “Alright, catch!”

He misses.

When you’re done laughing at him, he tosses it again, this time actually managing to get it to you, even though it lands kind of wildly against your lap. You lean back for a few good swings, regaining the altitude you lost from the distraction of the catch and the laughter.

“Ready?”

Your first throw goes wild. The second nails him in the chest. The third he actually manages to catch.

By the tenth you’ve graduated to trick shots. He leaned over the playground equipment nearby and caught it. He tossed it to you from under his leg, and you caught it. You threw it over the bar and under the bar and with your nondominant hand and backwards and he caught it again and again.

“Alright, time for the jump.” You adjust your grip on the swing.

“You’re sure this is safe?”

“Of course it is.” You gesture for him to toss you the shoe, which he does. No trick shots that time. “I’ve done it before, remember?”

He looks oddly worried as he resumes his position on the ground a short distance away.

“Relax babe,” you say, “I got this.”

He straightens up at the nickname, a smile flashing across his face. “Alright,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Whenever you’re ready, babe.”

(you like when he calls you that)

You take two swings, building up the momentum. He takes two steps, eyes focused on you.

You let go.

The shoe leaves your hand, and your feet hit the ground, and then the woodchips slide and your balance is lost and your hands slam into the ground too.

He calls your name.

You huff out a breath, and then another, processing.

“Are you okay?” His hand is on your shoulder, and his eyes dart over you as he checks for injuries.

“Totally fine,” you say. “Did you catch the shoe?”

He huffs, half exasperated and half amused. “That’s your priority?”

“Listen dude, I didn’t just make the sickest trickshot of the year just for you to drop the shoe cause I broke my ankle.”

He shoves your shoulder and you clutch it like he’s wounded you, dropping to the ground with a grin.

“Of course I caught it,” he says. “I would’ve caught you too but you jumped the wrong way.”

You scoff. “Alright, that’ll be the next trick shot.”

For a second you think he might actually be considering it, but his phone rings. He answers, listening for a few seconds before moving it away.

“Mingyu got the grill working,” he says to you. “Chan added helpfully from the background that if we’re done kissing we can come back for food.”

You raise your eyebrow. “We’re kissing?”

He shrugs. “If you want.”

He says it flippantly, but his eyes trail over your lips.

You stand up, helping him up after. Your hands linger. He’s still looking, and you find your eyes drifting too.

You lean in, quickly, before you can change your mind, and press a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth. He freezes, and then pulls you close, a real kiss this time. It’s like a fire exploding, and the chill of the rain is forgotten. You can hear a faint “Ew!” from the phone still held in Jeonghan’s hand, and you feel him smirk against your mouth.

You break apart, staring.

And then you take off like a shot across the grass. “Race you!”

You hear his footsteps chasing after you. “Hey, no fair! I’ve only got one shoe!”

Throwing your head back, you laugh, the rain slamming into your face.

(like a call and response, his laughter reaches your ears. it sounds like a sunrise)

#a tct summer #seventeen #yoon jeonghan #seventeen au #yoon jeonghan au #jeonghan #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan scenario #yoon jeonghan imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #yoon jeonghan fluff #listen i didn't write this with a title in mind so let's just #collectively agree #to ignore the title #please

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nsheetee · 5 years ago

Text

Makizushi | pt 2

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Chenle x Reader Genre: Fluff, Angst, Suggestive Length: 3.1k Warnings: please read Part 1 first, female reader, some making out, some swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drunk driving (disclaimer: I do not condone this behavior. don’t drink and drive) Summary: After your secret relationship with Chenle is exposed, you deal with your brother’s feelings, which leads to a fight between you and Chenle about your relationship. You make it up to each other with some strawberry-chocolate chip pancakes and kisses.

◉◉◉ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ◉◉◉

“What in the hell is going on here?”

You could just about die. Your actions stopping, back tensing, and lips leaving Chenle’s. Your eyes screw together in embarrassment as all yearning flushes out of you. You don’t know whether you should move off of your boyfriend’s lap or remain in your provocative spot. Your head drops down onto Chenle’s shoulder to hide yourself away from the four men who are undoubtedly looking at you from the entrance of the bathroom.

“Renjun… We can explain.” You hear Chenle say, a small chuckle leaving his lips, but it quickly dies when Renjun keeps staring at you, his sister, sitting on his best friend’s lap, after just witnessing you sucking each other’s faces off in the middle of his birthday dinner.

This is definitely not how you wanted the night to go.

“Then you better start explaining.” Renjun’s usually honey tenor voice is filled with tension and you only want to hide deeper into Chenle’s shoulder, but you take a deep breath and unstick yourself from your boyfriend. You stand up as gracefully as you can, tugging down your dress and straightening your shoulder all while trying not to look affected by all the stares on you. Chenle also stands up and fixes his buttons and collar, retrieving his suit jacket from where you threw it on the chair earlier and placing it around your shoulders.

“Well…” Chenle starts after you both composed yourselves, “Y/N and I have been seeing each other for a few months now…”

“Yeah, no shit.” Jaemin butts in loudly, earning a slap on the arm from Jeno. Renjun’s facial expression doesn’t change and it raises your stress level every second he doesn’t say a word.

“We didn’t mean for you all to find out like this… And definitely not on your birthday celebration, Renjun. We’re sorry.” You apologize on behalf of you and Chenle. Finally, Renjun moves, his eyes squinting and his head tilting to the side.

“Do you think I care about my birthday dinner being ruined? I don’t care. What I care about is that my little sister has been dating my best friend and neither of them told me.” You tighten your grip on Chenle’s suit jacket, trying to not let tears rise to the surface of your eyes, “Do you guys not trust me? Are you so embarrassed of me that you can’t share your relationship?” Renjun finishes.

You can’t believe the amount of heartache that fills Renjun’s words, it spills out of him and onto the nice tile floor, flooding the bathroom and soaking your feet. It makes you shrink back, guilt filling you from your toes to your fingertips. Renjun rolls his eyes, turning around and pushing his way through Haechan, Jeno, and Jaemin, who all send you and Chenle one last look before following Renjun out of the room.

The walk out of the restaurant is awkward for all six of you, but the drive back to your and Renjun’s house is even more awkward. With your brother and his friends still partially intoxicated, Renjun had to hand over his car keys to Chenle so that he could drive everyone home. Chenle didn’t make eye contact with Renjun during the exchange, and the car was silent the entire way back.

Haechan had somehow passed out during the ride, which is unfathomable to you because of how stuffy the car felt. Jeno and Jaemin carried him into the house, plopping him down onto Renjun’s couch. He stayed peacefully asleep, as if he wasn’t just thrown around like a rag.

“Okay… Well, we’ll be going home.” Jeno states, turning to look at Renjun.

“No, you guys are probably still drunk, you can stay here for tonight.” Renjun replies. Jeno spares a glace to Jaemin; how are they going to tell their friend they would rather not be here to witness the conversation that is undoubtedly going to happen between him, his sister, and his best friend?

“I think we’ll be okay. We’ve sobered up a lot.” Jaemin nods, and both Jeno and him wish Renjun a “see you later” and a bittersweet happy birthday wish. Jaemin loves drama, he would love to stay and watch the events unfold between the three of his friends, but even he knows that the conversation would be too awkward and fragile for others to witness.

You stayed in the car, not moving from your seat as Haechan was moved out and continuing to sit in silence with Chenle in the driver’s seat for what felt like hours. Then, Jaemin and Jeno walk out of the house, step into their cars and drive away, and you know it’s time for both of you to go inside. You feel like you and Chenle are students who got caught vandalizing the bathroom at school, and Renjun is your principal who’s going to punish you.

“Come on, let’s get this over with.” You mumble, partially to yourself and partially to Chenle. You clamor out of the car and into the house, walking into the kitchen and shutting the door behind you, almost as if closing the three of you off from the rest of the world would help this situation. Only the light above the sink is shining, the rest of the kitchen is dark, and Renjun sits at one of the chairs on the island, facing you and Chenle who stand by the door.

“I knew something was going on with you two. You always look so… comfortable next to each other. I’m honestly stupid for not figuring this out earlier.” Renjun slumps in his seat.

“Renjun, you’re not stupid. Chenle and I knew you would react like this, so we didn’t say anything yet-”

“I’m only reacting like this because you didn’t say anything sooner.” Renjun retorts back, louder than before. You take a deep breath; it’s always been easy for you and Renjun to get into fights, but not this time. This time, you cannot let this turn into a screaming match. Not only are you too tired to fight with Renjun, but Chenle is important to you, too important to just give up on because of one fight.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry that we didn’t tell you earlier, but Chenle and I are in a relationship and we’ll be staying in one.” Renjun is at a loss for your bold statement, but the attention quickly turns to Chenle when he speaks up.

“I’m not sorry.” He states simply, a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m not sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.” You turn to look at him, eyebrows screwing together as you lightly hit his bicep.

“Chenle…” You mutter under your breath; Renjun was looking like he was going to let this go. Why did Chenle have to say something like that?

“I’m not sorry because Y/N and I are adults. And more than that, we’re able to make our own decisions, we have been able to for a long time. I don’t understand why you’re reacting this way?”

“Like what?” Renjun asks.

“Like we did something illegal. Like we’ve been doing something dirty. We like each other, and I’ve always wanted to let everyone know about it.” Chenle gets his words out in one breath, sighing afterwards. He doesn’t wait for anyone else to speak, turning around and walking out of the kitchen, going towards the front door. You give your brother one last look, he places his chin in his hand and leans against the counter top in defeat, and you run out to meet Chenle before he goes home.

Your shoes clack against the pavement, and Chenle can hear you coming up behind him while calling his name. He stops in front of his car.

“What was that? Why would you say all that?” You struggle to breath after your run, but the words still echo out into the dark street, hitting Chenle’s heart.

“Why? Because it’s the truth. Do you know how frustrating it has been to keep our relationship a secret? I love you so much, and I never wanted to keep it from our friends.” Chenle admits, turning around to face you, chest heaving with conviction. You frown at his words; when you asked Chenle to keep your relationship quiet for a bit, he agreed with you. Now, he’s saying that was all a lie?

“So, this entire time, you haven’t been happy with our relationship?” You ask, a tilt of your head. Chenle shakes his head, hands coming up to rest on the sides of your arms.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” You shake him off of you, his jacket leaving your shoulders as well and you forcefully give him back the fabric. You look down at the chipped pavement under your shoes as an excuse to not meet his eye, taking a few steps away from him as he stutters to explain himself.

“Whatever. Now all of our friends know about this relationship. Are you happy? You got what you wanted.” Anger blinds you and the raging in your belly propels you away from Chenle, back to the comfort of your house. You hear him call out for you, but you don’t turn back, too gutted and tired by today’s events to deal with anymore drama. It does hurt, though, to hear Chenle weakly calling your name from behind you. You were always so weak for the way he would call you sweet pet names and the way his lips moved when he said your real name. Now, you don’t even want to look at him, too confused and embarrassed.

◉◉◉

It has been three weeks since Renjun’s birthday. Three weeks since your friends found out about your relationship with Chenle. Three weeks since you talked to your boyfriend at all. You didn’t mean for this situation to drag out for so long, but the first few days of silence were spent marinating in your embarrassment, and then when you finally got over yourself, you were too anxious to text Chenle.

What would you even say the next time you saw him? You wish you could put your ego aside to just call him and hear his voice again, even knowing that he’s okay would make you feel better instantly.

You’re lazying around your room on one cold night, your slippers on your feet and your fluffy pajamas hugging your skin. Doing absolutely nothing, time seems to pass by so slowly, almost agonizing you into being productive. Until, Renjun distracts you by walking into your room.

“Hey, I’m going out with Haechan. Mom and Dad already left for Grandma’s house, they won’t be back until tomorrow night.” He explains from his spot at the doorway. You let out some muffled words into your pillow, your syllables completely unrecognizable to Renjun. You can feel him rolling his eyes at you and you think he might’ve left, but he speaks up again after a few paused minutes of silence.

“You’ll be home tonight, right? You aren’t going anywhere?” His question prompts you to lift your head out of your blanket cocoon, turning to look at him.

“No, Renjun. I’m going clubbing with my friends,” You motion to your entirely disheveled state, “Like this.”

“Whatever.” He actually rolls his eyes this time, “Just… don’t go anywhere tonight.”

“Why?” You ask, sitting up all the way, now really curious about his demand.

“Just stay home. You won’t regret it.” And with that, he leaves your room and closes the door behind you. You drop back down into your pillows and let your mind wander through Renjun’s words. What did he mean about no regrets? Was he just pulling your leg? You resituate your phone and press play on a random movie, Renjun’s thoughts slowly fade out of your head and are replaced by the mind-numbing movie, you slowly drift in and out of consciousness until you let yourself rest and finally fall into your sleep.

The smell of pancakes and strawberries wakes you up, and you momentarily think that you’ve slept through the whole evening and night, but a look out your window and a glance at your clock tell you it’s only 10pm.

Out of curiosity you wander out of your room, your blanket wrapped around your shoulders and your phone clutched in your hand, ready to call the police if the person making breakfast food downstairs is a burglar, as if a burglar would stop to make breakfast food. You tiptoe to the kitchen door and peak in, confusion immediately flooding you at the sight in front of you.

Chenle stands at the stove, his back to you as he prepares what you can only assume are pancakes. He has several ingredients spread out over the countertop and along with them are strawberries and chocolate chips, your favorite pancake fillings. You think back to Renjun asking you hours earlier if you were staying home tonight, and that you won’t regret it. Is this what he was talking about? Chenle hums along as he cooks, shaking his shoulders and hips to his own rhythm.

Just standing a few feet away from him, just feeling his presence near you brings tears to your eyes. You didn’t realize how much you missed him until he’s so close you can practically reach out to him.

“Chenle…” You call out, voice cracking from emotion. He abruptly turns around at your voice and raises his eyebrows at your appearance.

“Y/N…” He looks like he doesn’t know what to do or what to say, just standing by the stove with the spatula up in the air, until the light in the room catches the tears that are threatening to spill out and he switches into concerned mode. Chenle turns off the stove and walks to you, setting down the spatula and gently gripping the sides of your head, making you tilt your face to him.

“What’s wrong?” He looks confused and worried, but you can only focus on how nice his hands feel on you for the first time in several weeks. You really, really missed him.

“Why are you in my house at 10 o’clock at night making pancakes?” Your hands rest on his wrists, keeping his hands where they are.

“I’m here… to apologize. For what I said and for not coming back to you earlier.” You shake your head at his words, pulling down his wrists so they stay at his own sides.

“If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me.” It’s Chenle’s turn to shake his head, and he pulls you down onto a seat at the island, his hands covering yours.

“I was too rash and I didn’t think about what my words could do… And, I made you feel like our relationship wasn’t fulfilling. It definitely is and always has been.” Chenle pulls the chair you’re sitting on closer to his own, your knees touch and your breaths mingle. His words make you feel better, like a weight that has been sitting at the bottom of your gut has been lifted off. Still, he’s not the only one to blame for the weeks of silence.

“I have to apologize, too. I assumed and made a big deal about nothing.” You sigh, playing with Chenle’s hands, which are slightly stained red with strawberry juice and smeared with chocolate. “You know, Renjun told me he doesn’t really care that we date? He just doesn’t want us to lie to him ever again.” You laugh at the memory of talking to your brother about the situation again, when afterwards you realized your childness and obliviousness.

“Then, can we end this silly fight, or whatever this is, and eat some strawberry and chocolate chip pancakes?” You nod, a smile finally coming up onto your lips. Chenle can’t help but admire how pretty you look at this moment; in a half-lit kitchen with your blanket around your shoulders and your hair in a bird’s nest. He couldn’t resist slowly leaning in to meet his lip with yours.

You understand his gaze and his motions, leaning in to meet him in the middle. Despite three weeks of not touching each other, you don’t think Chenle’s kisses have changed much, and you love that. He feels familiar, and you become more thankful for everything working out. A kiss that was just supposed to be just a small peck suddenly turns hotter when Chenle pulls you closer, making you stand up.

“Chenle…” You whisper for the few seconds that the two of you are separated, “I thought you wanted to eat…” You trail off, your lips meeting his soft ones over and over again. He kisses you like he’s hungry for something else now.

“Forget about that.” He stands up and presses your lower back to the countertop, his hands that were gently resting around your face now pushing off the blanket and traveling down over your pajama top. His touch feels so good, like the first taste of sugar after a sugar-free diet: exhilarating, and fresh, and so bad for you that it almost feels too good.

Your hands wander around his waist and slip under the hem of his shirt, his muscles stutter when your nails trace over his milky skin. Without opening his eyes, he moves the chocolate chips that were sitting on the counter away and helps you jump up onto the cool surface. You hum into him when he finally has the ideal placement to pull you flush against him with your thighs, your hips and chests meeting as Chenle begins to explore the expanse of your legs. He holds you to him like he never wants to let you go.

“Have I told you how much I missed you?” He sounds breathless, but reconnects his lips to yours anyway, swallowing whatever reply you had. Your fingers still toy around his back, lightly scratching here and there and making Chenle whine against you. You know he likes it because he presses against you harder, lips sloppily tracing down your jaw and your neck. His hands come up to tug on the bottom of your shirt to give him more access, and you think he’s about to rip it in half to get at what he wants so desperately.

Both of you have forgotten where you are, just the feeling of missing each other and wanting each other powering your actions. The pancakes are in the back of your mind, along with the silly fight you’ve been having over the past few weeks. Right now, it’s only Chenle, his hands and lips, and the amount of love he gives you to help make up for weeks of nothing. You and Chenle should probably get your ears checked, since it is now the second time that neither of you hear the front door opening or the footsteps against the wooden floor coming to the kitchen. Like deja vu, you hear the kitchen door opening, your brother and Haechan standing at the entrance to the kitchen with slacked jaws.

“You guys!” Renjun whines, “Really? On the kitchen counter? Gross!”

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