#It’s been too long since iv drawn the au I almost forgot what they looked like�� | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mistymark · 5 years

Text

the one with all the spoilers.

part of the 50 things you said project // mark lee x reader // 4.2k words // university!au // strangers to lovers!au // masterlist // send in requests here

summary; things you said when we were the only ones left

warnings; drunk donghyuck, jeno and jaemin

request; this is for the 50 things you said works. I would like 31 with Mark, but could it be at the same roof party of that Renjun fic? I just thought it would be suuuuuper cute if oc was invited to Haechan's party and instead hanging out with Mark the entire night. Thank you!! 😘 (you can read the first fic here)

notes; I know it has been a loooonnnggg time since ive posted but ive been really trying to make this specific story as good as possible,,,, so I hope y’all like it. (sporadically edited)

You were late. You were so very late, and the bumper-to-bumper traffic was not helping. “Are we far away?” you asked the taxi driver, leaning forward in your seat only to see red brake lights and a long line of stopped vehicles in front of you.

“It might be faster to get out and walk, miss,” the driver informs you, leaning out his window to see what has caused such a delay on the normally-flowing road.

You thank the taxi driver and hand over the amount of money due, with a tip for his troubles, and run down the street, passing all the stopped cars in a blur. Without looking at what has caused the build up of traffic, you look down at your phone, hastily trying to figure out what street Donghyuck lives on now. You had previously been neighbours, for almost two years, but he had left a few months ago, opting to move in with one of his friends in a nicer apartment a few blocks down from you.

He’d sent you detailed instructions on how to get there from your workplace, knowing you’d get lost, but you were still unable to interpret his badly drawn Snapchat diagrams.

You eventually found the bakery he was referring to in his map, and turned left, walking towards some large apartment buildings. You figured you were in the right place and walked in, making your way up to his floor. When you arrived at the apartment, 6G, you couldnt hear any noise apart from the soft murmuring of two people talking and you hoped you weren’t too late and everyone had already gone home. You’d told Donghyuck you had work that day, and said you’ll be a bit late, but thirty minutes after your guaranteed time of arrival; you still hadn’t shown.

You knocked on the door. The murmurs stopped and you heard the door being unlocked, before being opened. Your eyes widened in shock at the boy before you, and you instantly looked down at your phone, suddenly unsure if you’d come to the right place as you took in the (rather attractive) boy’s appearance. He was dressed in flannel pyjama pants and a plain black tee, round glasses perched on his nose and a bowl of popcorn in his hand. He appeared to be the only one in the apartment. “Um, is this building 127 on 92nd?”

He smiled, “Yeah. Are you here for Hyuck’s birthday?” He turned around slightly, placing the bowl on a nearby table as you nodded shyly before opening the door wider to let you in. He made a gesture to his clothes, “Sorry, I thought everyone had already arrived.”

“Oh! Er, no problem,” you tried to smile back and hide the shame you were feeling, before asking where you should put your present.

He gestured to the dining table, where various presents had been stacked haphazardly on top of each other. When he caught a glimpse of the tag on your gift, his eyes widened in realisation, “You’re y/n! Hyuck said you were going to be late. I completely forgot.”

You laughed with him, stealing a glance at the TV behind him, which happened to be playing your favourite TV show. No wonder you thought you’d heard voices when you first arrived.

He gestured to the window beside you, ‘giving you directions’ to get to the roof where the rest of the party was being held.

“You’re not coming?” You asked, surprised.

He leant against the couch and patted the back fondly, “Nope, I’m staying here. Holding down the fort.”

“Just like Hyuck not to invite his own roommate to his party,” you grinned mischievously, not giving him the chance to dispute as you disappeared up the fire escape.

When you climbed over the edge and onto the roof, you sought out Donghyuck, as he was pretty much the only person you would know at this party. You’d met a few of his friends before while you were neighbours - Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun, specifically - but there were at least thirty people up here who you’d never even seen before.

You found Hyuck talking to two boys by the entryway, the latter both holding fireworks and with disappointed looks on their faces. He looked up as you approached, “Look who finally decided to show up!” Donghyuck patted the taller boy’s shoulder as he left and walked over to you, arms out for a hug.

You hugged him, laughing, “Don’t say it like you weren’t three hours late to my birthday.” He squeezed you in response.

“Have you seen Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin, yet? They’ll take care of you if you need it. I know you haven't met a lot of these people yet,” he smiled at you happily, his childish grin showing. He was evidently so happy and you couldnt help but smile back.

“I haven’t actually. I just arrived,” you said, glancing around. You saw Jeno and Jaemin playing drinking games in the dark with a few other people, and Renjun sitting down by the drinks table, alone.

You bid Hyuck goodbye as you walked towards Renjun, greeting him with a one-armed hug and grabbing a drink, before sitting down beside him on the stretched out lawn chair.

“It’s been ages since I last saw you,” he said, clinking his bottle against yours in a toast. “Have you been here the entire night?”

You sighed, “No, I just arrived twenty minutes ago. I had work and then traffic was bad and - it was a whole mess. I’m glad I came, though. I havent seen you and your dumb friends in ages.”

He laughed with you, recalling all the outrageous pranks and activities the 00 line had attempted whilst Hyuck lived next door to you. “I bet you don’t miss us,” he looked away, watching Jeno cheer for someone taking a shot and smiling.

“Believe it or not but you guys were better than the young married couple I live next to now,” you wrinkled your nose. “Let’s just say I try to take night shifts as often as possible.”

He cringed at your words and laughed, before looking up as Donghyuck approached, rather frantic, “Hey, y/n, could you duck downstairs and grab the case of beer in my bedroom? Mark will show you where it is.”

You stood up immediately, “Of course.” You turned to leave before turning back, “Um, quick question: who is Mark?”

Donghyuck had already rushed off, eyeing a stumbling partygoer by the drinks table worriedly. Renjun stayed sitting on the chair, lifting his beer up to his lips, “Mark’s Donghyuck’s roommate. The guy probably opened the door for you.”

You feel your eyebrows raise in realisation, and you’re suddenly embarrassed that you hadn't previously asked him his name, especially since you thought he was rather cute. “Oh,” you turn to leave. “Tell Hyuck I’ll be back in a second.”

You entered the apartment through the window, climbing in and attempting to not kick the flowerpot off the shelf beside it as you did. You landed nimbly on your feet and clapped your hands together, causing Mark to jump in his seat on the couch and turn around to you, “Oh God! You scared me.” You walked in the direction of the bedrooms, briefly checking which part of the show he was watching and he called out after you, “Hey! Bathroom is here!”

You stopped in the corridor, the doors to the two bedrooms on either side of you. You pointed to each one in turn, “I’m looking for Hyuck’s room. Which one?”

He didn’t bother turning around, his eyes glued to the screen, as he yelled, “Left!”

You searched Donghyuck’s room for the case of beer, before standing up with your hands on your hips, “Hey, Mark? Where’s the beer?”

“Closet!” His voice was muffled by a handful of food.

“It’s not here!” You shouted back, before mumbling under your breath, “Unless I’m blind.”

He leant back on the couch to better see where you were and his mouth fell open when he realised you were in the wrong room, his room. “Oh, um, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You poked your head around the door and leant against the wall, your cheek squishing against the doorframe. Mark’s lips quirked up a fraction at your pout.

“That’s... that’s my room. Hyuck’s is the other one.”

You immediately jumped back from the door, trying not to make eye contact as you shut the door and went into the bedroom opposite, “Oh, sorry. I thought you said left.” You attempted to hide your blush that was rising up your neck due to your embarrassment, wondering how how you could have been so stupid as to start going through a stranger’s bedroom.

“Right, yeah, sorry. My bad. Are you taking it up to the roof?” You heard him call from the couch, and you pulled your phone out to check the time.

You placed it on the bed and eyed the case again, “Yeah.”

You could hear him let out a laugh, “Good luck with that.”

Stumbling out of Hyuck’s bedroom, the case in hand, you glared at him, “Gee, thanks for your help.”

Mark smirked, “You’re welcome.” Smartass, you thought.

You made your way to the door, before turning around, quickly shouting before it closed behind you, “By the way, she dies in the next episode! He ends up marrying her best friend!”

As the door slams shut, from you pulling it with your foot, you hear him groan and shout behind you. Smirking to yourself, you make your way up the stairs.

Hyuck thanks you for bringing all the beer up and you smile, insisting it was no problem. You crack a cold one with the boys one open and look around the crowd, Donghyuck departing once again to talk to his guests.

You spot Jeno under one of the food tables, rummaging through boxes of supplies as Jaemin stands behind him, his posture slack and foot tapping against the ground in an attempt to appear casual. Jeno whoops in success and jumps up, a roll of duct tape in hand. You grin at them, knowing they’re up to no good but not wanting to spoil their fun.

You don't see Renjun anywhere, so you reach for your phone to check your messages, only to find the pocket you normally keep it in is empty. You pat yourself down, searching all your pockets for your phone, before realising you probably left it in Donghyuck’s room when you went to fetch more beer.

Climbing down the fire escape again, you enter Donghyuck’s apartment and make your way to his room, not bothering to greet Mark this time. He does a double take as he sees you walking, staring after you and hurriedly looking away as soon as you walk out of the bedroom, your hand sliding your phone into your pocket.

When you make your way back to the window, he refuses to take his eyes off the screen, “Hey, does she really die next episode?”

You turn around and watch the screen momentarily, making sure you got the right episode and weren't getting mixed up. When you don’t respond, Mark turns his head back a little. He watches you silently.

Your eyes snap down to his and you watch his eyebrows raise every so slightly, “Yeah, I’m sure. She goes to the wedding planner after they get engaged and-”

“They get engaged?!”

“Oh, yeah. It’s real cute. He’s all like ‘You’re so gorgeous will you do me a gosh darn favour and be my gosh darn wife’ and then she says ‘Oh YES I love you so passionately, my love is like a thousand burning stars!” He laughs as you lower and raise your voice to imitate the actors.

You quirk an eyebrow at him before turning around to leave, but he spins around in his seat, his arms coming to rest on top of the couch, “And then what happens?”

He’s staring at you so cutely, you can’t help but blush a little bit, “I - er... well, she says yes, obviously and then- OH WAIT NO THIS IS THE GOOD PART SHH!” You quickly run forward and snatch the remote from the arm of the couch, turning up the volume and staring at the TV with wide eyes.

You’re standing behind the couch now, subconsciously clutching the remote close to your chest as you watch the plot unravel on the screen, unaware of the fact that Mark is watching you.

When five minutes go by, and the credits are rolling, you start walking backwards towards the fire escape, your eyes on Mark, “I told you the engagement was lame. Next episode is the engagement party, I think, so enjoy that.”

“You don’t want to keep watching?” He asks, standing up with the empty chip bowl in his hand. “Hyuck won’t mind.”

You hesitate. You’d been here for less than an hour, and only spoken to Donghyuck briefly because he was so busy. And if you were being completely honest, you had jumped at the chance to help with the beer just because you didn’t have anything else to do. While you’d been chatting to Renjun, other people had come up and introduced themselves, but you either couldn’t remember their name or weren’t interested in talking to them again after your meagre conversation.

You bite the corner of your lip in thought, before nodding slowly, watching as he empties another packet of chips into the large bowl. “Sure. And I promise, no more spoilers.”

He grinned at your answer and then pouted mockingly before walking back over to the couch. It was only now that you realised how ill-fitting Donghyuck’s furniture was. When he had moved in with Mark, they had obviously kept whatever furniture they previously owned and put it in the new apartment, despite the fact that Mark’s modern, stark white dining table and chairs contrasted to Donghyuck’s old brown leather sofa and wooden table.

The three-seater couch sat opposite the TV, and you happily plopped yourself down on one side, Mark placing the bowl of chips between you two in offering. He pressed play on the remote.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it was getting late, and you were at least another five episodes into the show. Mark had assured you Donghyuck told his drunken guests to leave via the stairwell rather than the fire escape (to prevent any injuries) so you were left virtually undisturbed. Two people (one who Mark addressed as Johnny) climbed in through the window and left, and you assumed the tall boy was taking the other home.

Renjun poked his head in the front door as he left to bid you a quick farewell and a ‘let’s catch up soon’, one arm around the much larger bodies of drunk Jaemin and Jeno. The party was still going on. When you slid your phone off the table, you noticed it was past midnight, and you were growing tired. You leant your head back and, when you looked over at Mark, your eyes slowly shutting, you realised he was already passed out on the couch.

It was sometime after three when Donghyuck stumbled into the apartment, carrying a box of decorations and trays. He had kicked the door open, dismissing the loud slam it made as it swung into the wall, and placed the box at the entrance of the apartment, before promptly disappearing into his room and face planting onto his bed.

The loud bang had disturbed your peaceful slumber, and your eyes began fluttering open, your mind screaming at you to go back to sleep. You could’ve gone back to sleep right there and then, bringing the pillow closer to your face but it was at that moment that you realised this was not a pillow, but was actually the soft black material of Mark’s shirt. Apparently, while you were sleeping, you had leant towards him slightly, your body weight causing you to lean diagonally towards Mark, who had shifted so that he was now with sleeping with one arm on the arm rest and one around you, sitting up slightly due to his previous sitting position.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to his stomach as you used him as a pillow, his legs outstretched and off the side of the couch. You attempted to move out of his hold, but he groaned, his other arm reaching down to hold you in place, “No. Stay.”

Suddenly, there was another loud bang as Donghyuck threw his bedroom door open in search of water and began making his way to the kitchen. The sudden noise made you jump in your half-asleep state, and you felt Mark stir as he blinked his eyes open, looking down at you in shock.

You were sure your face mirrored his, the surprise evident on your face.

You pushed yourself up and began gathering your things. It was at this point Donghyuck noticed you, “Oh, y/n! What a surprise! I’m so glad you came tonight, I had a wonderful time.” His eyes flickered to the couch as Mark sat up drearily, “Hey Ma- oh. My mistake. Forgive me. Have a good night.”

Donghyuck disappeared back into his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him and you sighed, “I’d better get going.”

“What? You’re exhausted and it’s 3:30am. As if I’m going to let you drive home at this hour,” Mark said, standing up and fixing up the cushions on the couch. His eyes were half closed as he brought the dirty bowl to the kitchen.

“I was going to walk, or Uber,” you said.

“That’s dumb; you could literally be murdered. And that’s impractical - what Ubers would be out at this hour?”

“Well, how do you suggest I get home then?” Maybe it was the tiredness, but his snarky smartass attitude was getting on your nerves again. He was acting the same way he had been when you’d come to collect the beer case.

“I’m saying you should stay here,” Mark’s voice changed, becoming softer, quieter.

“I shouldn’t-,” you immediately attempted to dismiss his kindness, but he argued back.

“It’s fine, you can sleep in my bed,” he watched your eyes widen and hid a smile as he glanced down at the floor. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Right, of course,” you said, eventually relenting and then helping him grab the last of the snacks from the couch.

He gestured towards his room, “Well, you know which one is mine. I have an early class tomorrow so I might not see you, but Donghyuck will be here so...” Mark set a pillow down, smirking at you, as he settled in on the couch, disappearing from view from where you stood behind it, “Sleep well.”

When you walked backed into Mark’s room, you couldnt help but notice how obviously Mark it was. When you were in it the first time, you hadn’t really been paying attention to it, focussing on finding the beer Hyuck had stashed. Now, you could fully appreciate the colours, the decorations, the organisation, everything that was completely Mark.

You noticed a spare blanket and pillow on his bed, and immediately pulled them into the living room, dropping them on Mark’s stomach before making your way back to his bedroom. You didn’t let yourself watch for his reaction.

The next morning, you woke up to Donghyuck lying across his couch, his hand clutching his head as he groaned in pain. He had shrieked when he first saw you walking out of Mark’s bedroom, thinking he was the only one home, and then almost cried because his own shout was so loud. You began to make him breakfast, but he insisted he couldn't eat and would wait until Mark came home from class, so you made yourself pancakes.

“Hey, can I get Mark’s number?” you asked casually, biting a piece of pancake.

Immediately, the younger boy sat bolt upright from the couch, his eyes wide in shock, “What?”

“Err... your roommate. Can I have his number?” You continued eating your breakfast, watching him closely.

“What do you want his number for?” Hyuck questioned, his elbow coming to rest on the back of the couch as he pressed his palm to his forehead.

“I wanted to thank him,” you said, straightening your back subconsciously at the subtle accusation in Donhyuck’s question. “I had a good time last night.”

“Ughhhh, y/n! I don’t want to hear that!”

“What? Oh, God, no. Donghyuck, no! Gross,” you turned back to face your plate, avoiding the boy’s gaze.

He sighed, dropping dramatically back onto the couch, “Fine, whatever. Grab me my phone, then. It’s on the bench over there, I think.”

“Uhh, what happened to it?” The phone screen was smashed beyond repair, and the phone was bent slightly in half. The forward-facing camera was dislodged, and the buttons were stiff, as if, when pressed, nothing would happen. When you pointed this fact out to Donghyuck, he groaned and threw it at the wall, ignoring the shattering sound of the glass screen as he flopped backwards onto the couch.

“Mark will know,” he mumbled into a pillow.

“Well, thanks for letting me stay last night. I’ll see you soon, okay?” You began to put on your coat as you searched for your handbag in the messy apartment.

The door swung open and Mark walked in, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a plain white tee, with a dark bomber jacket to compliment the outfit. He wasn’t wearing glasses today, and you were unsure whether he looked better or worse without them.

He hung up his jacket on the rack, briefly glancing at both you and Hyuck as he did, “Oh! Y/n! I didn’t think you’d be here when I got back.” He shot you a grin, but you missed it as you finally grabbed your bag and slung it over you shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m heading off now. Thanks for letting me stay the night,” you walked past him to the door, sending him a small smile before yelling at Haechan just to frustrate him in his hungover state.

You left, and walked down the stairs of the building, berating yourself for not asking Mark for his number. The guy was easily the most attractive person you’d ever seen, and you liked the same TV shows. What you were thinking was: you’re basically soulmates.

With newfound determination, you spun on your heel and marched back to the apartment door, convincing yourself you were confident enough to get the boy’s number. You breathed deeply, before raising your hand to knock.

Before your hand could make contact with the wood, the door swung open, and suddenly a body slammed rather strongly into you. You didn’t need to look up to know it was Mark, you recognised his scent, and his voice when he began apologising.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” His hands gripped your waist as he simultaneously tried to hold you up and push you out of his way gently.

“No, no, it’s-”

Finally, his brain seemed to have caught up to the situation. “Hey,” he breathed.

“Hi,” you smiled up at him. One arm was still wrapped securely around your waist, holding you flush against his body.

His eyes awkwardly flittered elsewhere, focussing on anything and everything as long as it wasn’t your face, “I, uh, was trying to catch you.”

You looked at your hand that was placed on his chest, “Well, here I am.” There was a lengthy pause. “What’s up?”

He cocked his head to the side, before pulling you up and slightly stepping back, clearing his throat, “Wait. What are you doing here? Did you forget something?”

You glanced at your feet, suddenly insecure that he had just let you go whilst you were here trying to confess your feelings. “I... No. I actually came back to ask you for your number.”

His face lit up at your words, a large, happy smile stretching across his face as he suddenly reached into his pocket, producing a small square of paper, “I was going to catch you and give you this.”

You raised an eyebrow at it before plucking it from his fingers and opening the note. The words ‘call me’ were printed above his phone number, and below, a message:

spoiler alert! we go on a date :)

You laughed at his reference to the night before, during which you had spoiled many episode endings.

“Well? Is that a yes? I can’t tell,” he asked, stepping forward a little.

“Definitely,” you smiled, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck as your faces drew closer, and closer, and closer, and-

“MARK, CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE ME A QUESADILLA?” Donghyuck’s voice interrupted what was almost a kiss, and Mark giggled, resting his forehead against yours.

“We’ll continue this later.” Then he stepped back, gave your hand a squeeze and shut the door of his apartment.

there u have it kiddos!!! my first post in like two months lol (sorry, love u)

#nct #nct 127 #nct 2018 #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct writing #nct fanfic #nct texts #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #mark lee #nct mark #lee mark #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #mark fluff #nct mark fluff #nct fluff

591 notes · View notes

beepbeeprichiellc · 6 years

Note

for that big list of aus do you think you could combine 10.iv and 10.v with reddie ???? with Eddie being the one obsessed with Christmas and snow bc it just sounds adorable okay and your writing is amazing

You are too kind. This ended up really long, my bad.

Richie watched the snow fall from his seat, the white clumpsgathering at the base of the window before flying off back into the abyss. Asmile curled at the corner of his lips, he loved snow, probably more than anyof his friends. It had a purity to it, a sense that their sins would wash awaywith the new blanket of fluff. He preferred it around Christmas, but he wouldsettle for its early arrival.

“Okay you got Bill’s new roommate’s name down right? Youaren’t going to embarrass me right?” Stan asked flatly from beside him. Anyonewho gave him a second look would think that the boy was 60 rather than 23. He worepressed pants, a cardigan, and carried a sense of arrogance that only peoplewith years of experience in life have. Not to mention his granny reading glassesand Sunday newspaper that he insisted on bringing along with them for theirtrip. They were complete opposites. Richie had more of a punk rock vibe,choosing torn jeans over pressed ones and a leather jacket over a cardigan anyday.How they ended up best friends was beyond them.

“Yeah, yeah. Eddie. I got it the first time you told me.” Hereplied, huffing in annoyance. “Doesn’t he have his own family to be with forThanksgiving? That place is already going to be crowded with Mike’s new girl coming.”

Stan rolled his eyes, “Don’t be bitter just because you haveto sleep on the floor.”

“Well not everyone can sleep in Bill’s bed.” He retortedplayfully, enjoying the bush that crept up Stan’s neck. “I mean I could, butyou know I’m a vivid dreamer. I’d hate to play out my wet dreams with the twoof you and-“

“Beep beep Richie.” He jeered just as their stop wasannounced.

The two exited, heading out of the terminal and out into thebusy streets of New York. “So have you ever even met this guy?” Richie asked,following close to on his friends heels. “Is he a weirdo like Bill’s last roommate,or like a creep like his roommate before that?”

“Bill says he’s normal. A little pristine but normal.” Stanshrugged, pulling his coat tighter against him as the snow became heavier inthe air. “He’s a nurse at the hospital, real smart and real clean.”

“Sounds like I’m gonna hate him.”

“Wow you just have the most faith in people don’t you?” Hebit, the townhouse coming into view. “You don’t have to like him Rich, you justhave to deal with him okay? Just for this holiday and then Christmas is at Beverly’s.”

Richie blew a raspberry as his response, to which Stanmerely ignored. They took to the steps of the home, knocking at the door. “I’mtelling you Richie, if you ruin this I will kick you out of our apartment. Justbehave.”

There wasn’t enough time to respond because that second thedoor opened, reviling a very done up Beverly. She let out a squeal, embracingStan. “Oh finally, you were the last to arrive! Did you have a nice tripupstate?”

“Fine.” Stan lied, moving past her and into the home.

“Damn Bev, eat my heart out.” Richie cooed, pulling the fieryhaired woman into his arms.

“Don’t let Ben hear you. I’m spoken for now.” She repliedsweetly, holding out her left hand. “He’s going to make an honest woman of meafter all.”

“God damn look at that rock!” He cooed, pulling her hand toget a closer look. “Shit, I’ll let him fuck me if he gets me one of those!” Beverlypushed him playfully, shaking her head in annoyance.

Once Richie entered the home, the smell of turkey andstuffing wafted back into him. His stomach responded by growling eagerly. He wasnext met with Ben, who hugged him briefly but sternly, followed by Mike and hisnew girlfriend who he learned was named Maggie and who embraced him regardlessof just meeting him. Richie felt his heart swell at the sight of them all, thankfulthat he had his own little family this time of the year.

“Where’s Bill? I gotta tell him that that food smellsamazing.”

“Oh he’s in the kitchen with Eddie.” Mike replied, gesturingto the door. Richie grimaced at the statement, picturing an extremely primpedand uptight man helping his brother with their dinner. He nodded, trudging throughthe door.

He entered the room with a bang, the door slamming againstthe counters loudly. “Honey, I’m home!” Richie bellowed obnoxiously.

Bill looked up from the oven, smiling widely. “RichieTozier, as I live and breathe.” He cooed, dropping his spoon and pulling hisfriend into a sincere hug, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a fucking year.”

“Just about.” He replied, looking over to the beautifularray of the food. “Since when did you become a chef? Last time you were incharge of dinner, you burnt the pizza.”

“Actually Eddie cooked.”

“You helped.” A voice replied from behind the door to thefridge. As the barrier was shut, Richie could feel his breath hitch in the backof his throat. The man, who he thought he would hate, was no older than him. Hewas short in stature, standing only to Richie’s chest. The pink polo he worewas partially covered by his apron, which looked well used. Bill was right indescribing him as pristine, but also horribly incorrect. Inside of him wasn’tan old soul like Stan, but rather a bright and beautiful one, one that wouldburn Richie to the core.

Eddie smiled, causing Richie’s knees to become weak. “I don’tthink we’ve met.” The small adult muttered, extending his hand. “You must be Richie.”

“Yes sir.” He managed in response, taking the petite hand intohis. God, he was soft. “You’re Eddie yeah?”

“That’s me.” Eddie jeered. “The party crasher.”

“Stop calling yourself that.” Bill interjected as they droppedtheir hands, making Richie instantly feel bare. “I invited you to this, therewasn’t any way you could go back home this year, not after what happened.”

“What happened?” Richie asked.

Eddie cringed, recovering quickly with a fake smile. “Nothingto worry about right now.” He replied softly. “Dinner is almost done. Do youmind telling the others?” Richie nodded, looking to Bill who only wore a sadface. As he left he could hear their hushed voices and although he could notmake out what was said he was sure that Eddie was scorning his roommate for theslip.

The food was absolutely fabulous.

Every single item was made to perfection, and the Losers atethe entire thing up. As they sat around the table lazily, conversation seemedto center around the surprising snow fall. Richie felt his stomach flip in excitement.His head perked up, smiling at his friends he blurted. “Okay, who is going togo out and look at the snow with me?”

Everyone groaned at once, all muttering smoothing profoundunder their breath. Maggie looked like she was going to raise her hand but Mikesnatched her wrist, shaking his head vigorously. “I’ll go.” A small voice fromthe opposite end of the table said.

“Uh Eddie, I don’t think you want to do that.” Ben warned, “Richieis a bit intense.”

“I’ll be fine. I love the snow.”

Richie barged outside with the small boy in tow, kicking upthe snow that had freshly fallen on their steps. He beamed as he watched Bill’sroommate follow him, his pea-coat nearly swallowing him whole. Eddie smiled,taking two steps at a time until his feet were firmly planted on the asphalt. “So.”He sang, raising an eyebrow at Richie. “Is there a specific reason your friendsdidn’t want to join you?”

“Maybe…” Richie replied sly, watching the other kid wanderaround the sidewalk. “Maybe not…”

Eddie hummed, rolling eyes and looking up towards the sky.Richie took his opening, shoving a handful of snow down the back of his coat.Eddie squealed in surprise, jumping in circles and cursing his name. Richiecouldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m the snow king Eds. That’s why no one-“He was cut shortby a snow ball that hit him squarely in the chest, sending shards of ice intohis mouth. “What in the hell!” he sputtered, tasting the lingering New Yorkflavor.

“You’re a shitty king.” Eddie retorted, throwing another ball,only this time missing by a few inches.

“Oh you’re dead.”

Bill and the others watched in horror as the two returned completelydrenched from head to toe. They were rushed off to shower and change with stupidlybig grins plastered on their faces. Richie refused to admit that he had losthis crown.

After that the night progressed quickly, becoming one bigblur of laughter and tomfoolery. It was like Eddie had been the missing pieceof their group, his smart mind keeping Stan and Ben entertained, his work andtravel interesting Mike and his quick mouth keeping Richie in line. No matterwho he spoke with, in a matter of mere minutes they were swooned, drawn in byhis charisma and kindness.

Two by two, the couples left for bed, leaving Richie andEddie. Conversation began to lag, an uncomfortable silence lingering betweenthen. Richie wasn’t typically the edgy type, hell he could make a politiciansmile, but there was something about Eddie that made him nervous. Almostscared. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing or make him uncomfortable in anyway so he opted for nothing. Which in retrospect probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed after nearly thirty minutes ofsilence. “I almost forgot!”

Richie watched the small figure jump from the couch and bolttowards the hallway closet. There was a commotion and a few slurs buteventually he emerged with a tote that was almost as large as he was. Eddiesmirked up at him, popping open the lid and expelling the contents.

“What the actual fuck?” Richie griped, watching none otherthan Christmas directions spill at his feet. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Nope.” He replied with a pop of his p. Quickly he began togather his things, an excitable giggle following him as he went.

“It’s literally still Thanksgiving.”

“So?”

“So? It’s fucking November and-no, not the tree. Put thatback.”

Eddie ignored him, setting up the base by the staircase. Heskipped with enthusiasm, disregarding the looks that Richie gave him. It wasalmost too cute, his tiny hands working poorly with the twisted lights, hishappy hum causing Richie to just stare in awe.

How had he gone his entire life not knowing this kid? Whatwas this feeling burning in his chest and what in the hell was he doing startingin the middle of the bundle?

“Oh my god, you’re doing it all wrong!” Richie muttered,grabbing the tangled mess from Eddie. “Let me just do it.”

“Thanks.” He whispered, his cheeks blushing a beautiful pinktint.

“Yeah yeah.” Riche replied, his voice lacking bite.

“I owe ya one.” Eddie poked, moving to the tote and pullingout more decorations.

Richie could feel the question on his tongue, he bit downhard trying to kill it but somehow it managed to slip past him. “So uh, whydidn’t you just go home for Thanksgiving?”

He could see Eddie tense up at the question, making Richieregret even speaking. Surprisingly he relaxed, wrapping the long tinsel aroundhis neck and filling his tiny hands with ornaments. “I had it out with mymother recently, we got into a huge fight and she told me not to come home forthe holidays.”

“Oh.” Richie choked, watching Eddie shrug. “What was it all about?”

“She doesn’t want a faggot for a son.” He replied easily,before Richie had a chance to reply he turned towards him, smiling. “Do youthink I should hang mistletoe?”

“Hell yeah.”

115 notes · View notes

strawberriestyles · 7 years

Text

Shakespeare (Part IV)

(Banner made by the incredibly talented @tiostyles)

Harry X Reader (AU)

In which Harry is a poetic frat boy who just so happens to be the TA for your new English class.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Hi, hello!! An early update!! I wasn’t feeling too hot about this part but I hope you guys like it. Any and all feedback is appreciated, as always. Enjoy!

It’s not pleasant to wake up in a room without blinds.

Light pierces your eyes, even through the lids. The sun is blaring hot. You can feel an uncomfortable layer of sweat coating your back. When you open your eyes, it takes a few panicked moments to remember where you are.

“Stay.”

Your fingers move without thought, pushing the overgrown curls back from his forehead. You’ve wanted to do that since you met him.

“I have-”

“Please, love,” he presses, voice quiet and gravelly with the remnants of sleep. “Can’ walk yeh home. Would feel better ‘f yeh jus’ stayed.” His fingers rub at your jean-clad thigh as he yawns.

“Harry,” you warn gently, heart picking up speed against your will. “I’m not ready to…”

“T'what?” His eyebrows are drawn low as he looks up at you. He looks like a grumpy toddler who’s ready for a nap.

“You know,” you mumble, staring out the window. You can still see some lights changing colors from the yard, reflecting off the upstairs window. If you listen closely, you can hear the distant thumping music from downstairs. You’re surprised at how well this room shuts out sound.

“Mmm,” Harry hums, pulling you down gently by the grip he has on your leg. Your back slips down the wall until your head hits the pillow. “’M not askin’ yeh fo’ sex,” he explains bluntly. “Jus’ sleep here.”

You blink heavily, reaching up to rub the sleep from your eyes. Your attempt to sit up is hindered by a heavy arm hooked around your waist. It’s then that you realize the heat that has your shirt sticking to your back isn’t from the sun, but from the radiating body practically glued to you.

Harry’s chest is melded to your spine, warm breath condensing down the back of your neck. His nose is buried in the hair at the back of your head and his arm constricts around you like a vice when you shift your position.

“Harry,” you gasp, prying at his fingers where they’ve clamped onto the hem of your shirt. It’s like being trapped in a sauna.

You can tell when he wakes up because his entire body stiffens before he releases you. It’s a relief as air hits your sticky back. Your jeans aren’t any more comfortable, you realize, as you sit up on the mattress.

Harry is fumbling around on the floor for his glasses, running his other hand through the wild mess of hair atop his head. He slips the lenses over his eyes and squints in your direction, the bright sunlight around your silhouette blinding him momentarily. Recognition sets in when his vision adjusts and he lets out a heavy breath.

“Y/N.” He states your name like a recitation. “We didn’…”

"What?” You’re as confused as the expression that’s plastered on his face. You turn away from him and find your phone on the floor a few feet away, stretching out to reach it.

“Did we fuck?”

Your phone teeters between your fingers and then tumbles back to the floor as you spin around. There’s a crease between Harry’s brows and a deep frown set into his lips. He doesn’t remember anything. How that is, you’re unsure. He was having full conversations with you and didn’t seem nearly as drunk as you would expect someone must be to forget an entire night.

“We’re still wearing clothes, aren’t we?” Your tone is harsh as you push yourself back in the direction of your phone. The screen tells you that it’s ten thirty-eight and you’ve missed your only class of the day.

“So, why’d yeh sleep here, then?”

“Because you told me to stay,” you spit, slipping your phone into your pocket.

“Yeh always angry in the mornin’?”

You don’t know why your heart sinks, why you feel the smallest splinter in your chest. Nothing significant happened last night. There were no meaningful conversations or playful kisses in the dark. But you still feel like you cracked into his shell and saw a glimpse of what Harry was like.

“I’m not angry,” you hiss, stretching out your limbs and then stuffing your laptop into your backpack with too much force. For some reason, Harry’s room doesn’t look as magical during the day.

“Coulda fooled me.” Harry rolls out of bed and pushes his glasses up his forehead to irritatedly rub at his eyes.

“Well, I didn’t really get the help you were supposed to give me,” you mutter, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “You just fell asleep on me.”

“Shit,” Harry utters, running his tongue over his lower lip. He understands what happened now, and the memories from the night before seem to flood back to him. “’M really sorry.”

“Yeah, you seem to say that a lot.” You stalk across the room and are out the door before he can reply, but you can hear his trailing footsteps.

“I don’ really see why yeh’re so mad 'bout this. I can still help yeh 'f yeh need it. Don’ have any classes t-”

“You don’t really believe that’s the only reason I’m pissed,” you say incredulously, glancing at him over your shoulder as you thump down the narrow stairwell.

“Yeh could jus’ tell me!” Harry complains, pulling on the waist of his jeans that have begun to slip down his hips as he follows you. “’M not a fuckin’ mind-reader, yeh know.”

“God, you’re infuriating,” you mumble as you weave through the mess of a kitchen and into the living room. Plastic cups litter almost the entire floor. A glance at the couch shows the boy that greeted you on the porch last night, shirtless and snoozing, shoulder-length hair twisted over the arm of the sofa.

“So are you!” he shouts, slamming his palm into the door just as you twist the knob.

“Let me out,” you order him calmly, staring at the rings that decorate his fingers.

“H,” comes a tired whine from the living room. “I’m glad you’re getting some again, but could you keep it down?”

Your eyes fall closed as you take a deep breath.

“Is that a regular thing, then?” you ask, twisting around to face Harry, who just stares at you incredulously.

“Is wha’ a regular thing?”

“You just get drunk, fuck some girl and then forget about it in the morning?”

Harry’s face shifts into something more angry and contorted than you’ve ever seen it. His gaze is searing as he glares at you.

“Don’ think tha’s any o’ your business, innit? ’M your TA, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you say, almost angrier than you were before. “My TA. Pretend like that’s all."

"That is all,” Harry dismisses, shaking his head incredulously at you.

You seem to deflate as you fall back onto your heels from where you’ve been poised on your toes, an extra few inches filling the space between you. “Why would you ask me to stay the night, then?” you ask quietly.

“Was drunk, yeah?” You and Harry stand in a moment of silence, you filling your collapsed lungs with air as the effects of rejection flood your body, him watching you as you seem to shrink in on yourself.

“Then let me out,” you whisper when you can speak again, turning back around to grab at the doorknob. You wait only another few seconds before his hand falls away and you can yank the door open. You slam it behind you and are down the steps before allowing hot tears of embarrassment to overflow onto your cheeks.

***

“H!”

Harry looks up from the cracked walkway to find Max hanging over the front railing of the house. He looks high off his ass already, though Harry knows he’s only been out of class for a half hour.

“I got two kegs. Do you think that’s enough?”

“Kegs?” Harry asks. He’s overtired, mind reeling with thoughts of the report he has due on Monday. He’s been working on it in the library, but now it’s five in the evening and he thought he’d call it quits for the day. The past week has been hell, and he doesn’t know if he can muster up energy to do any more work. He blinks fogginess from his eyes as he steps up onto the porch.

“Yeah, kegs,” Max repeats, shoving his way through the stubborn front door. He’s the typical frat boy: muscle tees and long hair and snapbacks. Star player on the rugby team, too. “It’s Thursday, British.”

“Shit,” Harry mutters with a wave of realization. He forgot. His report can wait, though. He has all weekend to do it and doesn’t have a single Friday class anyways. “Well, did yeh get anythin’ other than beer?”

“Ben was gonna pick up a bunch of bottles of vodka,” he confirms, leading the way back into the kitchen. Harry rolls his eyes at the mess that has become the counter. He swears it wasn’t that sticky when he ate cereal on it this morning.

“Should be fine.”

“Great,” Max says with a grin, pulling a bottle of whiskey down from the secret top shelf of a cupboard. “Why don’t we get started early, then?”

Harry twists the cap off of the bottle when Max hands it to him, taking a painful gulp and hissing as it burns deliciously down the length of his throat. The week is finally over, and any plans he had have vanished along with his concept of moderation.

***

’M your TA, Y/N.

The words continue to echo in your thoughts, ricocheting around the inside of your skull. How embarrassing. He’s supposed to help you with class work. Wasn’t that what he was trying to do? So what if he’s extra charming? That’s just a bonus. It doesn’t mean he was flirting with you.

Your thoughts drift to the night he walked you home, the closing distance between the two of you when you had a fleeting hope that he might kiss you. The smell of him is almost palpable, even just from memory. Then there’s Thursday night, with the soft caress of his fingers along your neck. That was the first time he touched you, and you’ve never known innocent touches to be so electrifying. And it kept happening. His hand in yours, guiding you up the stairs, his arms around you to move you away from his journal, his face buried into your hip, hand on your thigh. But it was all platonic. Even when you woke up with him wrapped around you like a second skin. He’s just a clingy drunk.

You flush with the memory of his chest pressed to your back, lips so close to your neck that you can almost feel them brushing your spine. Your body heats, just like when you woke up next to him, too close to the sun. How could something have such a profound effect on you and be completely meaningless to him?

In a flustered fit, you snap your laptop closed, pushing it from your lap to cool your thighs. Your paper is due tomorrow—Tuesday—and you’ve only barely completed it. The writing is mediocre at best, but it will have to do, because there’s no way you can get yourself to focus again, even in your secluded little nook of the library.

Harry isn’t the typical frat boy, you know. Maybe that’s why it seems like such a loss to realize that he’s not interested in you. Most of them are run by hormones. They’re competitive and they lack substance. Harry isn’t like that, with his thoughtful gestures and mysterious journal and massive collection of literature. He seems to have so much substance that you wouldn’t know where to start sifting through it.

’M your TA, Y/N.

The words pull you from your reverie. Harry is not your friend. He’s not some looming crush and you’re not going to be some pitiful, embarrassed girl around him. He’s your TA and things will be kept that way from now on, despite how uncomfortable it might be. You can get over it.

Part V

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles shakespeare

691 notes · View notes