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nerdzzone · 3 years

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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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amara-scott · 3 years

Text

Last Goodbye

Tv Series: The Haunting of Hill House Characters: Luke Crain x Reader Categories: Loads of Angst, Fluff (my favorite combo)

When I got the call I booked a plane ticket to fly back home as soon as I hung up. Studying abroad used to be my dream. And usually you would want to share your dreams with people you love, who you care a lot about. The Crains were such people. After my Dad passed away Nell made sure that I wouldn’t fall down a deep and dark rabbit hole. She encouraged me to go and find my path, to accept what happened and maybe even move on in life.

But who am I kidding. We all know you can never fully move on from death. It will always be apart of you, no matter what. You just learn to not think about it all day and not let it consume your life.

A cab brings me to the location I usually would love to visit but - today it’s a location we shouldn’t have to go to.

“Ma’m? We’re here.” I glance up to the driver, he sends me a small smile through the rear view mirror. “Do you need help with your luggage?”

I shake my head, trying to form a genuine smile but I frown instead, glancing down at my wallet as I fetch his payment and a tip. “Have a good day, sir.” I exit after he nods and I go around the car to collect my belongings. A small suitcase and my duffel bag. The wind is icy and small droplets of rain start covering my open hair. I make my way to Shirley’s porch and knock on the front door, waiting. I look back up as Kevin opens the door. He greets me with a sad smile.

“Hey, (Y/N).” I step closer and hug him, shaking my head. As we pull apart I feel my eyes glossing over.

“Wouldn’t have thought I’d be back so soon. Especially not because-“ I trail off, trying to lighten the mood. he shuffles aside and helps me with my luggage.

“Me neither. It’s good to see you though.”

“Where’s Shirl?” I ask as we settle on the living room couch, Kevin hands me a cup of tea. “Thanks.”

“She is probably prepping-“ he stops himself as he looks up at me, “-everything, for later.” I nod, capturing my lower lip between my teeth and nibble at the skin. My eyes landing on an opened book on the coffee table. A picture album. Pictures of Nell. Her wedding, her birthdays- oh Nell. I place down the cup, taking a closer look.

“She was way too good for this world.” I get out under my breath before the first tears roll down. I sniffle and wipe my eyes with my long sleeves.

“Here.” Kevin holds out a tissue for me and I thank him before using it. He joins me and holds me to his side, rubbing my arm. “She really was something special.” He adds and I nod, smiling through my tears as I lean forward to flip through the pages. Nell’s 8th birthday. A picture of her marvelous cake that we all made the night before. I was over for the weekend and helped out. Feeling very important as an 8 year old myself at the time. Luke- his big glasses seemed to grow with him and he still looked like the sweet boy that he used to be. Her wedding. He wasn’t there. Well, he was, but Shirley sent him off. I couldn’t even talk to him. That’s how fast she was. Something snapped inside her that day.

“(Y/N)?” I look over the back of the couch and Shirley stands there, taking off a light coat and coming over. I meet her halfway and she takes me into her arms. The tears flowing and my heart trembling.

“I’m so sorry- Shirl, I-“

“No, (Y/N) don’t say that. Non of this is your fault okay?” We part and I nod at her, folding my arms and feeling small, vulnerable.

“Did you-“ she nods, not letting me finish, too painful.

“She’s done, the food delivered and drinks are ready. Theo is there.”

“Let’s go over?” I ask and she nods, Shirl takes Kevin’s hand and we briefly walk in the cold before I see Theo who just stepped onto a cigarette.

“Hey.” I say and she looks up, taking me into her arms briefly. A small smile on her lips.

“I’m glad you’re here. She would want that.” She adds and we all walk inside into the hallway. Waiting.

“So, is Hugh coming? And Steve?” Shirley nods at me and we sit on a couple armchairs. My head only thinking of Luke though, about what he must go through.

“Yeah, they should be here any minute now.” I take another deep breath, glancing up and making out her casket at the end of the isle. Flowers decorating it, everything dimly lit.

“Here-“ My view is blocked by Theo who holds out a glass to me, filled with clear liquor. I take it and smell, pure vodka. Might as well. I gulp it down and cringe at the taste as it’s burning down my throat.

The door opens and in walks Steve. By himself, no Hugh, nor his fiancé.

Luke is next. My eyes water again as I see him. Not just because of the three shots I emptied so far, no. He reminds me of Nell, so much. And I missed him, I miss her.

I stand up, walking over, embracing him after the Crains are done, feeling my warm tears falling and head pounding already.

“Luke-“ He holds me just as tight, burying his face into my neck. I sob, not knowing how to stop. “I’m so sorry.” I mumble into his collar. He holds me just a little tighter then, shaking his head.

“No, no it’s not your fault.” I pull away slightly, looking up into his red and puffy eyes, bruises visible on his delicate skin. A small and painful smile on his dry lips.

My hands go up to cup his face, thumbs running across his stubbled cheeks. I lean up and kiss his left one, then letting go. He’s gone through hell and back. That’s what he looks like, probably feels like.

Hugh comes last and it’s quite tense at first, he doesn’t seem to be fully present mentally. And I don’t want to know how it must feel to lose a child. Your youngest to add to that.

“Can you-“ I stop and glance up at Luke as we make our way inside the room. He gulps and looks down, his fingers grazing mine. I take his hand and hold it tightly. Giving him an assuring smile as I nod over to Nell.

“Let’s say goodbye.” I whisper and he nods, inhaling deeply, eyes fixed on Nell. The walk seemed infinite. When we arrive at the front, her face the same, her hair perfect, her dress- I can’t help but glance over at Shirley. I smile at her “She looks beautiful, Shirl.”

She nods at me, thanking me quietly. I look back up at Luke, who stares at her, lost in thought, lost in memories. Allover lost. Without Nell.

“Let’s take a seat.” I whisper and wait for his response, he slowly nods and looks down at me. I lead him over to the chairs, taking a seat beside him. Still holding his now shaky hand in my lap. “You did good.” I add and he pries his eyes off of Nell, looking at me.

“Thanks to you.” He squeezes my hand and I lean against his side. “You’re all I have left now.” I look up at him, frowning. “They don’t want me.” He chuckles, pain in his eyes as he glances around the room where his siblings and Dad all sit in different rows.

“That’s not true, you know that.” He shakes his head at me, disagreeing.

“I don’t blame them either. I fucked it all up. Instead of being there for Nell- I fucked up. I rather got high than seeing my family.” His bites his lip, trying to hold back. “And now- now she's gone. Now it’s too late.” He takes his hand from mine and leans forward, elbows on knees and fingers deep in his hair.

“I wasn't even at her wedding. I didn’t get to see her-” I rub his back as I try to hold back more tears but who am I kidding.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself-”

“-harsh on myself?” He repeats, a little louder. I flinch at his sudden outburst and he apologises, standing up and leaving the room. I sit back, glancing at my fingers as tears make their way down my warm cheeks.

“Don’t even try, he’s hopeless.” Theo slurs and falls down into the seat next to me. I huff, not able to look at her before standing up. I run after Luke, the opened front door telling me he must have left.

I step outside and hug myself as the cold wind sweeps through the door. Luke stands by the car, trying to find the right key- that’s not his car.

“Luke, don’t do something stupid now-” He head shots up and he shakes his head.

“I need to go, I need- I have to stop this-” He rambles on as he finds the right key.

“Luke, Luke! You don’t have to do anything besides being here for your family, for Nell. Stay. Please-”

“I can’t.” He sits inside and shuts the door, starting the car, I shake my head at him as he drives off.

“Goddamit Luke.” I mumble.

#imagine #the haunting of hill house #luke crain x reader #luke crain #Luke Crain imagine

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pffbts · 2 years

Text

―22 & more.

this is my way of telling myself to throw away all the procrastination and that i should stay still because, in this freshly dawned 22nd year of my life, i`m still young.

flashback to 10 years ago when taylor swift released 22 from her red album, my 12 years old self wanted to know what it really is like to be 22 and sing that song. i used to watch the music video on our television on vh1 in that new city where everything was so very new, unaware that the city will bring the harshest storm in our family. i wondered what it`s like to be 22 and feel "happy, free, confused and lonely at the same". i wanted to know what is it about 22 being "miserable and magical". i wanted to experience what it`s like to "[...]forget about our deadlines".

i guess, here we are now.

i can tell you now, my 12 years old self. it`s probably more than all that. first of all, you can be 22 and still feel like you`re stuck at 19. maybe you`re never going to know what 22 really feels like and it`s okay. just make it seem like you`re cycling past a vast field while the spring air flows around you. you don`t have to sit back and think of being consumed in solitude. that thing will come to you like your best friend.

by 22, you`ll know that words are your only escape. you`ll be sitting in front of your study desk, watching a ghibli movie and eating maggi because mother didn`t feel like making dinner which is completely okay because she worked hard today, so she`s tired.

by 22, it will be 7 years that you`ve learnt the bittersweet taste of unrequited first love & heartbreak. but don`t worry, that boy who was 3 years your school senior and whom you loved with your everything, right when things were going terrible at home, will still continue to wish you "happy birthday" every year right at midnight of your birthday. you`ll probably have second thoughts thinking, maybe he remembers it so well because it`s also the birthday of his own first love, the girl in his year who also broke his heart. yet you`ll brush off that thought, smile to yourself and reply to him with a simple "thank you so much" because although you`ve way too many things to tell him, you can`t. he`s been with someone new for the last 3 years and he`s very happy. for you, that`s all that matters.

by 22, you`ll be in the last year of college, prepping up for the upcoming semester exams. you`ll be doing not just one but two degrees at the same time. you`re a good student now, not like how you used to struggle in school. so don`t worry, take your time and absorb everything that`s happening around you. you`ll be going through so much and if i could, i would run to you and hug you close because god, you`re so incredibly strong, my much younger self.

i don't feel numb rather it`s like i knew this was going to happen. even if i was dreading for this day to come, i wanted to sit back and take it all. i`m not happy but i`m not sad too. i`m just somewhere where i`m building a path to escape from this place. someday, i hope i will but for now, all i can do is sit back and think of how to spend this day without letting it get into my head.

therefore, happy 22nd to me. i hope when things go tough just like always, i stay next to myself, holding myself in my own arms and convincing myself, it`s alright, i`m strong. i`ve seen so much so i can bear a little more too. time waits for no one. it`ll pass.

stay still, me.

#a:pffbts #a birthday gift from me to myself :)

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comehomeducklings · 3 years

Text

Past [Part 2] (Obsession)

A/N: Some chapters will be named with either “Past,” “Present,” or “Future,” then their numbered part coming right after it. This is to confuse you less when flashbacks or anything happens. As you have probably noticed, it says “Past” for Part 2. This is going back near when Tom and her just met. Thank you for reading! <3

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

“Potions is not that bad, I swear. You just have to be good at measuring.”

At the table, my friends and I are discussing our classes this year. Potions being one of my favorite topics. Devyn absolutely loathes that certain class. We have to drag her there to make sure she doesn’t skip. Poor girl tries her best to not mess up but the cauldron always ends up blowing up. I even watched her do every step once, never missing a beat. The potion still ended up failing, even though she did everything correctly. She gave up after a while, who wouldn’t. I help her do extra assignments for extra credit to keep her grade up. She also studies with me to make sure she can memorize everything and pass her tests. Amelia is pretty good at the class, she’s luckily paired with Devyn most of the time. Carrying the potion to success, with a little bit of my secret help. It’s not cheating, it’s using your resources.

I’m resources.

“Potions is not that bad,” Devyn mocks me. “If it weren’t for you two I would have gone insane in that stupid class.”

Amelia just laughs at her while eating her hash browns on the plate. She reaches her hand out to take some more eggs.

“You were able to do it before. Not the way you were supposed to, but it worked,” Amelia says.

“Exactly, just start doing it your way at this point. I don’t think Slughorn will care how it’s done, just how it comes out.”

Devyn nods her head and points at me with a fork. Her mouth full of food so she settles for that response. My plate doesn’t have much other than some bacon and fruit. I’m not usually a breakfast eater. I get my appetite at lunch and dinner time. It’s just too early for a bunch of food smells, the smells make me kind of nauseous. I’ll eat though, enough to hold me off till lunch.

The chatter in the lunchroom rises by the minute. Everyone refilling themselves before their busy day. All energy levels rising while everyone wakes up from their groggy morning mood. While my friends finish eating we continue to talk about our classes and share the schedules for this year. Most classes we had were the same except for our electives. I tried taking as many electives as possible. My family back home never really did magic. I actually came a year and a half late since my family wanted me to have a normal school experience. I learned to do everything without the use of magic, the only thing my mom taught me was the floo network, creatures, and plants. I would often accompany her to Diagon Alley when she shops. I got an Owl for my 10th birthday. A cat would have been amazing if I wasn’t allergic to it. My owl is a brown and white-furred barn owl. Don’t ask me why I named it Bartholomew. I was ten okay, give me a break. Speaking of the floo network, my mom had to chase me through it quite often because I kept teleporting everywhere. I once ran into the Ministry of Magic’s building and got lost. They had to take me home to my parents. Their faces told me everything I needed to know about the punishment waiting for me.

Halfway through the second year is when I came to Hogwarts, a second letter coming that year asking my parents to let me learn more there. So when they finally let me attend, everything was pretty new to me. My mother was the magic one in the family. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, before her had the magic gene. Going to school was the same experience as going from a muggle-borns perspective. The difference is, I knew more about its existence. I would look at yearbooks my mom had from when she went here. She earned a lot of titles, all the achievements being recorded down. I always wondered why she never wanted me to come here. Did something happen to me, to her? I’m guessing she just wanted a normal life with dad. He has always supported her through everything. A love, a bond like that is hard to come by. He would also learn about magic right next to me. At least, the stuff my mom allowed to let us know.

That’s why I want to learn as much as I can, of what’s available. Why learn math in the muggle world when I could be learning divination. Spells of all types, potions for everything of inconvenience. My chores could be completed with just a flick of my wand. I’ve lately been learning wandless magic, on my own. Albus has helped by providing me with material to study that type of magic. The only thing I’ve managed so far is a spark coming from the tips of my fingertips. Sparking hope that I could actually, maybe, achieve that level. Now I won't get my hopes up, but that can lead me to a certain advantage in dueling. That being one of my weakest skills. Always panicking, saying any spells that pop up in my mind, and making random movements coming from my wand. Often confusing who I’m up against, although they recover from that confusion fairly quickly.

Riddle, met him once. One too many if you would ask me. I dissuade ever wanting to speak to him. Arrogance and pride flow through his tongue like second nature. I do take pride in succeeding above him in 3 classes. He is 2 classes above me but, that’s not the point. I do admit, he’s attractive. Only a little though, how else would he charm his way through the professors and students.

“Alright, I’m ready to go. You guys done?”

“Yeah,” I say. Devyn and I start leaving our seats and heading towards the huge doors.

Amelia hurried from her seat, a few steps behind since she took some fruit with her to eat on the way. More and more students also started making their way towards the first period. Not wanting to be blamed for the loss of house points. This system causes so many fights, everyone’s competitive side getting the best of their common sense. I would be lying if I said it didn’t get the best of me before. Amelia being her usual bubbly self skips backward while chatting with us. Before we could warn her to stop, she pushes someone ahead of her. Both falling down, hitting the floor. She spins her head extremely quickly, her hair sticking in her mouth from the force of the wind.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she explains. Quickly trying to digest her situation. I make my way towards her and pull her up. I fix her robe and dust off any dirt on the cloth from the floor.

“Clearly idiot, can you not use those bug eyes of yours to see?”

Devyn and I make eye contact. We understand that there are witnesses here, and one of them is bound to snitch on us if we fight. A huge scene would probably make Amelia feel even more embarrassed as well. Instead, I guided Amelia by her back. We continue on to class while I comfort her. Devyn is staying back to “talk” to the guy. Lestrange is in for it now, any poor soul would be when in the fiery path of her anger.

Devyn’s loud yells could still be slightly heard when entering the potions classroom. First class of the year, and day. On Slughorn’s table, I can see a vial with the wideye potion contained inside. I set Devyn’s textbook on her station, turning to the page that contains information on the potion. Hoping to save her confusion and time.

“Welcome, welcome! Nice to see some old faces, and new ones,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Today we’ll be learning about the Wideye potion. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

I quickly raise my hand, rather eager. I did some reading about a lot of potions during the summer. Trying to get a headstart on my studies. This potion being one of them. Only 3 students raised their hand, one of them being me. The other, well, Riddle.

“Yes, go ahead and answer,” the professor looks my way.

I smile, “The wideye potion prevents the person consuming the liquid the ability to fall asleep. Which is often used in the medical field to wake someone from a sleep caused by a blunt force or drug.”

“Precisely! 10 points.”

I look back rather smugly at Riddle, rather happy I got chosen instead of him. I know, he could have easily answered that too. I’ll let myself bask in the small achievement for now. 30 minutes of class is just spent writing down notes, preparing us for the potion we will make. Note-taking is my favorite, especially the little doodles I get to make. We use a feather instead of the regular pen. I found it rather amusing and liked the certain feeling of writing with it. The dipping noise that the point of the feather makes when hitting the liquid ink is a very profound sound. No real writer’s bump forming on my fingers.

“That’s enough writing, I need you all to prepare your cauldron, gather the materials you need, and start your potion. If done correctly, tomorrow when we add the finishing touches and check on it the potion should be a blue/green color,” Slughorn comments. “You have 10 minutes to study your notes, then the rest of the class to make your potion. No looking back at your notes after those ten minutes.”

After scanning my notes, I stand up and walk towards the ingredients on the shelves. If I remember correctly my potion requires snake fangs, standard ingredient, and wolfsbane. I gather all that in my hand and set it down near my cauldron. Before I start, I take a moment. I’m missing something, I’m sure there was another ingredient.

Wolfsbane, check.

Snake fangs, six of them.

I have the measures of Standard ingredient.

There’s one more, I try to look around the room. Then I remember that we get an automatic failing grade if caught cheating. There’s no way I’ll let my grade drop like that. Over something so small and inconvenient too. Making my way to the shelves, I scan over the ingredients over and over again. Trying to see if any of the names pop out to me.

No.

Definitely not.

That’s an ingredient?

I don’t even want to know how that one was obtained.

This one, of course it’s this one. I even remember putting a star next to the name in my notebook. Dried Billwig stings, I believe six of them were needed. All that time wasted. Hurrying to my seat I get to work. The time goes by quickly, all that could be heard was the sizzling and whooshing of our potions. I almost knocked down my vials a couple of times. Someone actually did, their time spent on cleaning the glass off the floor. After heating the first three ingredients, I crush them together in the mortar. Then stir clockwise from what I recall, three times specifically. Finally, I wave my wand over then leave it to brew.

Just in time from the looks of it. I glance at Devyn to see how it went for her, and she looks pretty proud of herself. I take that as a blessing that it didn’t blow up this time of round. I’m guessing she took our advice and did it her own way.

A student raises his hand, “May we leave?”

“Oh yes yes, go ahead. No assignments for the first day, only the potion you made in class.”

Before I leave the classroom I examine Riddle’s station. He already left the room. His potion looks similar to how mine turned out, his workspace thoroughly cleaned. Everything used properly placed back to where it should be. Perfectly spotless, not a single speck of dust in sight. All done without magic too, surprising for someone born into the wizarding world. When I mentioned that I met him once, it wasn’t much of anything. The only way I know how he really acts is through other people. Much admire his intelligence and strong will. Others are jealous of the potential he holds for the future.

Girls are already trying to slip love potions into his drinks. I would feel bad if he wasn’t so rude to them. Only just before touching the disrespectful line. He almost drank one of their attempts before. Wouldn’t want to imagine how that turned out. Tom riddle, in love. That man probably doesn’t know the feeling of happiness, let alone love. I feel bad for his future girlfriend, she’s going to have to deal with a handful of baggage.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“How much do you want to bet Nott will demolish him?” A Gryffindor girl to my left whispers.

Nott, part of Riddle’s group from what I’ve seen. They all eat lunch together and talk to one another so it’s a reasonable guess. Very talented duellist, one of the bests here.

“I hate to admit it, but he’ll definitely win this. I’ll still have hope for the other guy though,” I whisper back trying not to sound mean.

Nott and the other Slytherin boy are up right now. It’s a courtesy for the audience to stay quiet until someone casts the first attack or defense. From then on all you will hear is shouting of encouragement and the opposite. Nott’s eyes are focused, zoning in on the opponent before him. His wand is steady, mouth slightly parted to breathe through better. Whole-body alert and tense waiting for something. From what I'm getting, I believe he’s waiting for the Slytherin boy to go first. Nott casts spells quickly and thinks them through decently. Sometimes you're not able to create a counter-spell quick enough to defend yourself against him.

Riddle’s group and himself are near the corner of the platform. All seemingly analyzing every breath he inhales and exhales. I finally hear the whoosh of a wand and a whiz of light fly past the platform. The glow from the spell lighting our faces for a millisecond. Nott quickly counters that spell and moves to cast his own. Magic flies across the platform, all of our eyes going back and forth like a ping-pong match. The Slytherin boy starts breaking a sweat. He’s only been able to get a couple of offensive spells in there, most of his plays spent throwing off Nott’s. If he doesn’t turn the battle soon, the outcome will become very clear.

It is a little less exciting since we only know a handful of spells. So whatever you know from your own studies you use in these duels. When we move up the years the class will become more serious and dangerous. Right now it’s just to teach us how to counter and cast quickly. The proper etiquette and movement. You use spells that you know, they aren’t supposed to harm someone. Either stun them, make them fly back, or disarm. Most of those spells require a little of a higher level, most of us not even knowing of its existence yet. So what’s mostly cast between competitors is a basic spell to exert force. That force should be aimed for the legs, or the wand to disarm that way. The way someone can win here is to make their knees or hands touch the floor, or disarm their wand. As I mentioned, it will get more intense as time goes by. We're only just starting 3rd year right now, a lot more charms will be learned later on.

I shake my head to get rid of any lingering thoughts. My attention goes right back to the duel taking place in front of me. Nott quickly aims a spell at the knees and manages to bring the other boy to his knees.

“Mr. Nott wins this duel! Please step off the platform, we will evaluate your performance.”

During the practice duels today, you watch it, think of ways to help the person improve, and point out things they might have done wrong. At the end, the professor picks people raising their hands to allow them to give their feedback. Participating is part of the grade you get in here. I personally prefer giving feedback then dueling. I’m not the best at casting, I do give out good defense spells though. That should mean something, I hope.

“Let’s start with Nott, does anyone have feedback for him?”

A couple of people spread apart raised their hands. One by one they all ask questions and give feedback. They mention his feet and posture when he stands. Arms fully stretched out where it would have been more flexible to bend it slightly. When he casts he shouldn’t be walking backward. They shortly switch to the other boy’s questions and feedback. The way he never gave himself the opening to cast an offensive spell often. He would move around his area a lot. Almost slipping off the stage during one of those movements. Tom and his group privately discussed with one another. They’re probably giving Nott their own feedback and suggestions privately.

“Now, Riddle I want you to come up and…,” he scans the room for another student. After some time he points his finger at me. “You.”

I could have had a smooth sailing class. I was so close to not having to go up there. My hands start sweating a bit, my anxiety jumbling my thoughts together. Riddle’s already up there and soon to be on his side of the platform. Taking his wand out and wandering his fingers over the design. I gulp, a big toad stuck in my throat. I wipe my hands on my robe and start up the stairs. Riddle seems as unbothered as ever. We bow, turn, then walk ten paces back. During this time I try predicting who will cast first. I don’t know him very well, I’ve also never seen him duel.

I take my dueling stance and wait for the signal to start. Hoping, praying, that I don’t embarrass myself. Slipping up is not allowed, not when going against him.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

#tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #lord voldemort #death eaters #voldemort #horcrux #hogwarts #harry potter #wizard #post wizarding war #enemies to allies #enemies to lovers #angst #oc #poc #Oc is any race #moldy voldy

54 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Three

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less.

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find.

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges.

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop.

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion.

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?”

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.”

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.”

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.”

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt.

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign.

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite.

“Spicy...but good.”

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.”

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to.

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.”

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.”

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly.

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?”

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.”

“Windows?” He cocked a brow.

“He did say that it was kind of boring...”

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted.

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Hm. Thanks.”

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.”

“You like those tater tots too though.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it.

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly.

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation:

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi.

Bomi:

Blaze:

*now kiss*

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph.

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.”

Chapter 27

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days.

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before.

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty.

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles.

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins.

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.”

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?”

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?”

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.”

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.”

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes.

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--”

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.”

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out.

“Its just...what I like to do.”

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?”

“Oh...”

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself.

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.”

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.”

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.”

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.”

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?”

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.”

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.”

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript.

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?”

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright then!!”

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.”

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.”

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN.

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry.

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with.

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach.

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store.

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--”

“Hey! Blossom??”

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain.

“You okay?”

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small.

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair.

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck.

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.”

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you.

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.”

“You’re fine, it’s fine.”

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine.

“What are you doing around here?”

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden.

“Ahh, I just got off.”

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind.

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.”

“Oh. It’s Y/n.”

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.”

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so.

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?”

“Cat. Just one.”

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.”

“How's that?”

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.”

“I...guess I can see what you mean.”

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much.

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.”

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“You don’t have to...”

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it.

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door.

“You coming?” He held it open for you.

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster.

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.”

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles.

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances.

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead.

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor.

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant.

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor.

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips.

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that.

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over.

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good.

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary.

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric.

“That probably would be best.”

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place.

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently.

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.

“How much longer?”

“At least thirty more minutes.”

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night.

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been.

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky.

“Not really.”

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?”

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?”

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.”

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his.

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced.

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart.

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.”

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--”

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...”

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.”

This.

What the hell was “this?”

“I’m not following...”

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.”

You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all.

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.”

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one.

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper.

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes.

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.”

“W-why?”

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.”

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...”

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“You do?”

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves.

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...”

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable.

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?”

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it.

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust.

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm.

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.”

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could.

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud.

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.”

124 notes · View notes

versegm · 4 years

Text

The first thing you’re aware of is fire.

The fever rakes your body like boiling oil in your veins. The ground feels freezing cold beneath you compared to the summer locked in your lungs. You exhale, and your breath almost burns your lips.

You open your eyes.

“... Ah. I got lost again, didn’t I?”

The night sky greets you, pitch black pierced by a thousand stars. None of the constellations you see are familiar. Striking by its size and color, a blue planet stands among them.

You’re back on the Moon. Where all lost and forgotten things lay.

You sit up. Your limbs are trembling. It doesn’t hurt, though. You suspect that you might be dreaming- as much as servants dream, obviously. It’s harder to feel pain when one doesn’t have a body.

Your chest burns. Your everything burns. It’s a familiar fire, something you know you’ve encountered in the past. But when you blink, all you can picture is smoke, with no additional context. You cannot remember.

“Okay, so.” There’s no one here for you to talk to, of course. But talking out loud helps you keep track of your thoughts. Better track than when you keep quiet, if anything. “What’s the last thing I was doing?”

You look down. You’re wearing your usual armor. You flex your hands. They’re empty.

“I think I was hanging a light string. I was up a ladder. Siegfried was telling me to be careful.” You tilt your head. “So I was in Chaldea. And we had a reason to celebrate. Perhaps a birthday?” … No, you don’t think that was it. “A holiday, then?”

Ah! There! You clap your hands. “Christmas! It was for Christmas!” You love Christmas! Much lights! Much noise! It’s great! It’s like the world aligns with the inside of your head for a week.

“So I was hanging light strings for Christmas with Siegfried, and then I…” You pause. Frown. “I…”

…

You draw a blank there.

Huh. Well, no need to cry over it. You’ll remember in time. You usually do. In the meantime, you should probably get going. You’ve never shaken your memory up by sitting around.

You get up and start walking. Your legs are trembling. You feel weak. You feel hot. You walk past the prayers and wishes sent by sinners to God, past the ancient glory of the Assyrians, past the favors princes gift their subjects. You are so small, among these mountains of unrecorded history and unsated desires. They’ve only grown bigger since the last time you’ve come.

You reach the river. It’s unchanged. It is, after all, one of the few things even magic can’t alter easily.

The antelope, though, is new.

“Hi there!” You wave. Small. Short fur. Brown body, a black stripe on the flanks. White belly. White face. Two black stripes down its eyes like tears. It’s a springbok. (Or rather, it appears to be a springbok. On the Moon, more literally than on Earth, nothing is as it looks like. You wonder if you look like a human to others, here. Maybe you’re actually a bird, or a gust of wind. Reckless and free.)

The animal startles, turning her head towards you with fright- but she does not back away. She stares. You stare.

Slowly, she bows her head.

You do the same. It’s only polite. “So, are you lost too? I don’t remember how I got there. I think the underworld sickness sent me here, but honestly, I’m kinda guessing randomly here.”

Oh! The underworld! That’s right! That was the last time you felt this heat, when you wandered into Hell. You didn’t need a coat for the next few winters after that.

The springbok, being a springbok, doesn’t answer. She does, however, lowers her head, and tries to push something with her nose. Square. Thick. A clay tablet.

You get closer and pick it up. It’s a lot heavier than it looks. Perhaps your illness is making you weaker, but you have an inkling as to what that tablet is. If you’re right, that’d explain why it weights so much.

You flip the tablet. There is something carved on the other side. The alphabet is too old for you to know it. You can’t read it, but you know what it is.

“You know, last time, I met an old man here.” You say. You wonder if the springbok can actually understand you. “He was carrying stone tablets like these. The names of the recently deceased. Their name, and history, and identity, and everything. He carried them here, and threw them in the river. And then he went to pick up more tablets, and do it again.”

The antelope pokes your leg with her snout. You think she wants her tablet back. You ignore her and turn towards the water.

“Do you know what this is? It's the flow of time. The literal flow of time. When a name falls in there, it erodes. Becomes smoother. Until it’s not readable anymore. Until no one remembers that person anymore.” You smile. “That’s what I was told, anyway. I’m afraid my guide is long dead, too.”

The springbok makes a noise you could almost interpret as frustrated. You run your fingers over the writing on the tablet. “Is this your name?” Quite a life she must have led! For it to be so heavy. Did she burn bright, or did she burn long? You wish you could have a proper conversation with her, now. That sounds so interesting!

The gazelle is growing even more agitated now. She’s biting at your pant legs, pulling. She’s surprisingly strong. Still, you stand your ground. “If you’re not lost. Did you come here on purpose? Did you come here to be forgotten?”

The springbok lets go of you. For a few seconds, she doesn’t move. Your heart sinks.

Then she kicks you.

You stumble forward. You manage to catch yourself on your hands before your face hits the ground. But the tablet slips out of your grasp. It slips, and it rolls, and-

“No!”

You throw yourself on the river bank and plunge your arms into the water up to the elbow, tablet. deep catch . water pull .

ground back, . springbok , instead of as you feared, with concern.

“Hold on. My thoughts are. All over the place.” . “I’m missing. Bits. I need to talk. I can keep it straight if I keep talking.”

The springbok concerned noise pokes your with its soft . You would her, but arms feel like .

You peer down.

Oh.

Your arms are missing . It’s. Not good to look at. Raw exposed without to protect it. It’s a good thing is a dream. This would be to heal in real , not to mention painful.

“Sorry. Sorry. Couldn’t let you do that.” The tablet heavy in your arms. “Someone still remembers you, right? It’s not fair of you to force the wheels of time to speed up just for you. They should get to mourn you properly! You can’t just take it away from them. That’s rude. And painful. And, honestly, this wouldn’t even work well. Take it from an expert at forgetting things! One may not always remember people or names, but feelings are forever. If there’s still someone out there preventing you from being forgotten, removing your name from history won’t take away their grief.”

You wonder expression the gazelle is making. Your sight is getting blurry. Note to self, don’t play with time! It messes you up real bad! Real bad! Don’t do it.

“Anyway. No more of that. Let yourself get forgotten normally, like the rest of us. No cheating.” You close your eyes. “Or get remembered, and live with it. Whichever is your lot.”

You feel sleepy. You feel tired.

You feel a little less hot.

“Sorry. I guess that’s what I was brought there to do? Or maybe time’s just up for this particular dream.” You chuckle. “I mean it, though. No more of that, alright? Else I’ll have to come back again! I’ll get lost as many times as it takes to lend you a hand.”

You feel soft fur on your cheek.

You fall asleep.

You wake up in Chaldea.

You feel restless and warm. A plague struck Chaldea, you’re told. But it’s okay. The master dealt with it already. We can go back to Christmas. We can go back to celebrating.

Your forearms itch.There’s moondust all over your skin.

You can’t remember what you did.

You shrug. Hopefully, it was something good. Most likely, you were the sole witness of your actions, so you suppose it doesn’t really matter.

You head towards the cafeteria. You heard the master brought a couple more servants back from this whole adventure. You wonder who is this year’s Santa! Oh, maybe Cu Alter? He seems to be the only alter who didn’t-

You freeze in the doorway.

Blonde hair. Humanoid. Very obviously divine. Nothing about this stranger is even remotely reminiscent of antelopes. Yet, for a second, barely a blink- you see a springbok standing there.

Her skin is glistening with moondust, too.

Oh, my.

#fate #fate grand order #fgo #astolfo #ereshkigal #merry christmas in the underworld #my writing #memory loss tw #to be safe

159 notes · View notes

missmorosis · 4 years

Text

Terrible

Hi! Hello!

Part of the inspo for this fic is here! Whump & fluff are my soft spots… I really loved this prompt by @whumpster-dumpster omg I was scrolling through your prompts and I LOVE THEM!! I’ll definitely have to do one or two more in the future!

Please please please send in requests through my asks!! I would LOVE to write more for y’all~

Pairing: uhhhh soo it can be Zuko x reader, buuut it’s pretty much Gaang x reader :) pairing can apply to everyone? idk

Warnings: Just some dizziness, sickness, fainting! Also please pretend that covid doesn’t exist here~

Word count: omg i wrote 2.5k words!

Summary: Y/N is very sick, but of course, she’s so stubborn that she still needs to help set up for Aang’s birthday party.

When Y/N woke up, she wasn’t sure what was wrong, but she felt out of it. She blindly reached out next to her, feeling for Zuko’s warm body, but he wasn’t there. He must be off at work at the Jasmine Dragon already or something…

Y/N turned on her phone and groaned. 8:30 AM. She had to get up; she had promised Katara that she would help set up for Aang’s birthday, and she was supposed to meet her in one hour. Sighing, she kicked her blanket off and peeled her eyes open, slightly shivering from the cold. She squinted her eyes. Why was the sunlight so bright? Her eyelids felt heavy, and she wanted more than anything to pull the blanket back up and make herself comfortable once more. However, she scooted her body out of bed, forcing herself to get up.

Her body didn’t approve. She groaned, rubbing her pounding temples with her hand. She stayed still, hoping for the headache to pass before she made any sharp movements. After a while, the throbbing ceased a bit, and Y/N deemed it safe to move. She checked the time. 8:42 AM. She cursed, getting clothes from her closet as fast as she could. Ignoring her headache, she made a quick mental checklist of the things she needed to do. 1. Take a shower. 2. Get dressed & get ready. 3. Pick up the cake from the bakery, and 4. Drive over to Katara’s and help her with anything else. She could do that in 48, now 47 minutes, right?

She trudged through her room, through the hallway, heading towards the bathroom. She brought her clothes over, setting it down on the counter next to the sink. She paused, leaning on the bathroom door for just a second, feeling lightheaded. She sighed, closing her eyes. Why was it so hot all of a sudden? Why was the room spinning…? That never happened before… Where was this sickness coming from? Her knees sank into the ground. No. She promised to help Katara. She lifted herself up with difficulty, using the edge of the sink as support. She staggered, but eventually, she pulled herself up.

Maybe a shower would make her feel better? She pulled her clothes off and got into the shower. The warm water ran against the skin, flowing through her hair. She was going to be fine. She needed to help Katara! She didn’t want Katara to set up the party all by herself.

Ahh, yes, this was making her feel… better. Right? The water steamed, fogging up the shower glass. She shampooed her hair, running her fingers through her scalp, but it wasn’t making her feel better. No, it was making her feel worse. She was feeling incredibly dizzy and her limbs were weak. The steam from the hot water made her even more dizzy. The shower violently swayed to one side, the world spinning too fast for Y/N to keep up. She washed out the bubbles in her hair, her body slowly sinking into the floor of the shower booth. She was now on all four, unable to stay standing.

What was happening to her? Y/N washed her body with a loofa, still sitting on the floor of the booth, moving slowly with low energy. She washed all the bubbles off and turned off the water. She crawled out and grabbed a towel and the clothes from the countertop. She wiped away the water with the towel and she slowly pulled the clothes on, starting with her lower body. The ripped jeans she picked out were seriously annoying to put on. Her feet kept getting caught in the holes, and it was especially hard because Y/N was seeing double. She then pulled on her top and exhaled in relief. She reached for her phone. 9:13 AM. She internally screamed; she spent way too long to shower. She only had 17 more minutes to do… what?

What was number 2 on her checklist again? She couldn’t make her brain think. She was too busy trying to stay conscious. She closed her eyes, shakily bringing her legs in, moving her body into a fetal position. She rested her head on her knees, trying to stop the room from spinning so severely, trying to stop her from feeling so weak, and trying to stop herself from passing out. She felt faint and she didn’t know if she could get up. She would rather lay on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

“Y/N?” Someone knocked at the door, and Y/N barely recognized his voice. Her brain was not working at all.

“Zuko?” she weakly managed to call his name. Hadn’t he gone to work?

“Hey, are you okay? Can I come in? You’ve been in the bathroom for over 40 minutes.” 40 minutes!? How has time gone by so fast?! Y/N reached one arm up and unlocked the bathroom door, grunting at the effort. The door burst open, letting in the cool air from outside the bathroom. She sighed, and tried to look up at Zuko. “Oh my gosh, Y/N!” He kneeled down next to her, his hand immediately on her forehead, checking her temperature. “You’re burning up! What happened?”

“I- I woke up feeling sick and now I’m about to pass out,” she breathed. Her wet hair was dripping onto the white bathroom tiles. Her breathing was shallow, and her surroundings were still wobbly. Her eyesight was going wonky… why was everything blacking out? She squinted, trying to focus on Zuko, but he kept moving. “Z- Zuko, stop moving, I can’t focus on you.”

“Y/N,” he looked at her with concerned eyes. “I’m not moving.” Her mouth opened to form an “o” shape, and she blinked. She was sure he was moving. “Here, lean on me, okay?” She could hear him repositioning himself. She rested her head on the front of Zuko’s chest. She could hear his heartbeat. Thump… thump… thump… She slumped further onto his knees as the world spun and her vision went black.

✧･ﾟ: *

“Y/N? Hey, are you alright?” Zuko was above Y/N, looking very worried.

“Z- Zuko? What time is it?” Zuko checked his phone.

“9:53, but that’s not important. You literally just passed out.”

“9:53?!” She was late! “Oh no, oh no. I need to pick up the cake and get to Katara’s!” She quickly sat up, which caused her to groan. She shouldn’t have done that; she buried her head in her hands to try and stop the room from spinning once again.

“Hey,” Zuko gently pushed Y/N back down. “I’ll take care of it. It’s okay, you need some rest. Clearly you’re not okay.” He spoke in a soft, calm voice, which calmed her down a bit, but Y/N’s frantic eyes darted all over his face. She shook her head.

“No, I’m fine,” she insisted, despite her headache and the dizziness. She couldn’t get up, let alone drive, but she was undeniably stubborn. She had to help, even though she was definitely not fine. “I promised Katara I would help with Aang’s birthday party. The cake is under my name; only I can pick it up from the bakery. I swear, I’m fine.”

She got up to prove her point, but it backfired. Her knees collapsed from weakness, causing her to trip over herself. She clutched the side of the couch for support. Why did she have to be so dizzy? Zuko’s arms grabbed her from behind, and she lay limp, allowing him to carry her. Why did it take so much effort to stay standing??

“Y/N. I’m worried about you, and you definitely can’t go alone.” He sighed. “If this is really important…” Y/N eagerly nodded. It was important! “I’ll go with you. Sounds good?” Y/N nodded again. That was fine! She checked her phone. 9:58 AM! Already?!

Oh wow, she had a lot of messages. She scrolled through her notifications...

Katara: Hey Y/N! Are you coming?

Katara: Y/N?

Katara: Sokka and I are starting to worry… are you okay?

Sokka: helloooooo?

Sokka: Y/N? you’re… very late ahaha

Sokka: seriously tho- hello?? can ya answer

Sokka: y/nnnn answer me :(

Sokka: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe

Katara: Missed Calls (4)

Sokka: Missed Calls (5)

Y/N groaned: she didn’t mean to make them worry! She was completely fine. She quickly texted them back, letting them know that she was running late but she’ll be coming soon. She clicked her phone off and got up, letting Zuko support her. Y/N was grateful; she didn’t think she could walk on her own. He led her to the car, once again looking at her worriedly.

“Are you sure you want to go? You can just text them that you can’t make it,” he said. She waved it off. She was going to be fine. She slumped further into the seat, rubbing her temples. Her head still hurt like crazy, and on top of that, she was shivering from the cold. Why was her body like this…? “You’re cold?” She nodded. She was very cold. “Y/N… it’s 82 degrees.” Oh shoot. Now he was going to worry even more.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. She sent him a smile, just to tie it in. He bit his lip, perhaps to bite back some more worried comments, but instead he started the car. The dizziness multiplied as soon as Zuko started driving. She probably should have stayed home, but it’s too late now… “Head over to umm…” Y/N racked her brain, trying to remember the name of the bakery. She closed her eyes as another headache struck her temples. She was tired of this.

“Y/N?” Another worried glance. She had been “thinking” for too long.

“Oh, umm, the one in the plaza next to Katara’s house. It has brick walls.” Zuko changed course, heading to the bakery Y/N described. The car ride felt terrible. Every second, her head hurt, the world kept spinning, and Zuko kept on looking at her as if she was going to pass out again any minute. Which could actually be a possibility, but she put that aside.

Finally, they arrived at the bakery. Zuko gestured for Y/N to stay in the car, which she was totally fine with. She felt like she closed her eyes for a second, and when she blinked, Zuko was already back in the car with the cake in the backseat.

“Oh, hi… Welcome back!” Y/N said. Zuko sighed.

“Y/N, you need to rest. You… look terrible.”

“Gee.. thanks.” She knew, in fact, that if she looked as bad as she felt, she looked very terrible. “But it’s too late now! We’re practically already at Katara’s house. I can see it from here.” Zuko sighed again and started the short drive. After only a few minutes, the two pulled up in Katara’s driveway. Zuko helped Y/N out, and she was not ready. Her leg crumpled as soon as it hit the floor, but Zuko caught her. She mumbled “sorry” as she tried to stand up straight. Zuko practically carried her; she definitely could not walk on her own. Everything was spinning, including Zuko, so she trusted him to lead the way. He rang the doorbell. Sokka answered the door.

“Hey guys! Hi Zuko, didn’t know you were coming.” Y/N smiled. Sokka looked at the scene in front of him. Y/N knew that they must look really weird: she was leaning on Zuko, and Zuko was supporting her with one arm around her waist. “Y/N, you guys are getting reeaaal comfy there.” She could see Zuko rolling his eyes. “Anyways, come in! We’re just finishing up decorating.”

Zuko kicked his shoes off and he helped Y/N do the same. Ahh shoot. Everything spun around her once again. She shut her eyes as tight as she could until it passed. She opened her eyes, looking up at Zuko. His concerned eyes met hers, asking a silent question. Are you sure you’re okay? She nodded, sighing.

“Hey Y/N!” Katara waved at her.

“Sorry I’m so late, I got held up.” Katara nodded in understanding. She could feel Zuko’s eyes on her but she ignored him. She did get held up. By passing out... but she could leave out the details.

“Can you help me put this up?” Katara held up an orange banner in one hand. She read the banner: Happy birthday Appa! Appa? No, she read it again. Aang. Ugh, she couldn’t even read anymore. She climbed up the ladder with one side of the banner in her hand. Shoot. She stopped midway, gripping the edges of the metal ladder as everything spun harshly around her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to squish out all of the dizziness.

“Y/N?” She heard Katara’s voice calling to her, but she couldn’t tell from where. She felt someone pulling her off the ladder. The warmth of the body told her that it was Zuko.

“Y/N, are you okay?” someone asked her, but she couldn’t tell who. She felt Zuko pull her in tighter, but she couldn’t see anything since her eyes were completely shut. She wasn’t planning on opening them until everything was back to normal, which meant that it would be a while. She felt terrible, the room wouldn’t stop spinning, her head pounded, and everything was gross. She buried her head further into Zuko’s arms. Everything hurts so much. She wanted everything to stop.

“Y/N?” Zuko asked her gently.

She heard someone (Sokka?) open and close a cupboard. “Let me take your temperature. Holy- 104.8! Y/N! You shouldn’t have come here. You need to rest.”

“That’s what I was saying, but she insisted on coming.” She heard Zuko’s exasperated voice. She choked back a sob. Everything hurt so bad, the room was spinning and she couldn’t even open her eyes. She should have just stayed home.

“Y/N? Are you going to pass out?” Katara’s worried voice asked.

“Y/N, it’s not healthy to pass out twice in one day,” Zuko whispered.

“Twice?! When did she-”

“This morning. I found her on the bathroom floor.”

“That’s why she was late..? Y/N! You didn’t have to come if you weren’t feeling well!” Everyone else mumbled in agreement.

“Hey, Y/N?” Zuko asked again, softer than before. “Can you say something?”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s okay, but you seriously need to rest, alright? It looks like it just keeps getting worse. How do you feel right now?” Zuko’s hand gripped hers.

“Terrible.” That summed it all up. She felt herself be lifted up, and she was carried away. Zuko’s footsteps echoed in her brain. She was set down on a bed and tucked in.

“Get well soon, okay?” A tender kiss was planted on the top of her burning forehead. She was going to get well for Zuko’s sake.

A/N: that ending do be weird tho

SOOOO that kinda made no sense & it wasn’t too realistic buuut I did write a lot! Hopefully you guys liked it! If you read that mess, THANK YOU!! HUGS TO ALL!!

Please request something in my asks... I would love to write for y’all! I LOVE YOU GUYS!! STAY SAFE!!

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mrsseverussnape · 3 years

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Love Is You - chapter 11

A/n: hopefully this is gonna be posted… It was very stormy and the power is off for hours because of it. I tried to create a moodboard and i am trying to post it but even my own data is not working very well, the storm was that bad and probably damaged something… I deserve some comments after trying that hard to post that😂

Christmas was around the corner, but Scarlett wasn't as excited as she used to be even it was her favourite time of the year. She was planning to celebrate it with her kids but apparently, they had other plans which she found out quite late. Sirius has invited Leo and Remus over for a boys Christmas celebration and Carina would celebrate it with her boyfriend's family this year. Actually both of the kids have offered to stay with her but she didn't want to ruin their plans for her own enjoyment. Then Scarlett thought to spend the day with her parents just like the old days but it turned out they have already booked a holiday, they would be in Switzerland during Christmas week. So this plan has cancelled too for her. Normally she wouldn't mind staying alone but on special days she would like to have a company, especially this year she needed it more. Scarlett thought if she could invite someone over for Christmas but she didn't have many friends and the ones she had already married and would celebrate it with their families or they were living in abroad. Then one possible person came to her mind but she wasn't sure if he had someone special to celebrate the Christmas with. But she wanted to give it a try and wrote a letter to Severus and invited him over for dinner.

Christmas had a special place in their relationship. They have started dating on December, couple of days prior Scarlett's 18th birthday then she has invited him to her house for Christmas break when she found out he would stay at Hogwarts and with that he could meet with her parents. And the best memory of that Christmas was the present that Severus gave to her. He has got her a white British long hair kitten that she fell in love with immediately. Severus has gotten that idea since Scarlett was such a cat lady and actually she was a cat herself as an animagus, also she has told him about her late cat who passed away a year ago. Scarlett has named the new kitten Pearl and she has become basically their baby and in the summer of the same year they got another kitten together and named him Paul. The warm feeling of the memories made her smile, these happy memories has become her comfort zone lately.

It was the Christmas evening and the kids were ready to leave while Scarlett was busy decorating a cake. Leo and Carina came to the kitchen to say goodbye to her.

"Mum the cake looks delicious but isn't it way too big just for you to eat?"

"I will have a friend over, i won't be alone."

"Oh you didn't mention that. Now we don't feel as guilty for leaving you alone. Who is coming?"

"Professor Snape."

The kids exchanged looks for a moment. They still haven't said anything to her about the trunk so she had no idea that they know about her past relationship with Severus Snape.

"It will be great for you two to remember good old days, I am sure you have missed them. Have fun!"

Scarlett looked at Carina rather suspiciously after what she just said. She was asking and talking a lot about Severus and her lately. "Thank you... Are you leaving?"

"Yep, take care and don't drink much mum."

"Okay mother." Scarlett rolled her eyes at her daughter. "You two have fun and say merry Christmas to everyone from me." She kissed their cheeks goodbye. "Love you."

"Love you too mum, bye!" Carina and Leo both apparated at the same time, leaving Scarlett by herself.

She did the final touches on the cake and put it in the refrigerator to set. Now she needed to get dressed before he came. Scarlett decided on a velvet bodycon dress which is off shoulder and its emerald green colour was complimenting her copper red hair beautifully. She brushed and styled her wavy hair and finally put her signature red lipstick. Scarlett looked herself in the mirror and enjoyed her view truly for the first time in a while. She hasn't dressed up fully for a long time and she has missed seeing herself like this.

The knock on the door took her away from her thoughts. She rushed to the door and took a deep breath before opening it. When she opened the door and saw him standing there with a winter bouquet and wine bottle in his hands. It was such a coincidence that he has picked a velvet emerald green jacket to combine with his black trousers and shirt.

"Welcome Severus, come in! It is snowing outside."

"Hello." He smiled and entered the house once he lived in together with her, handed her the bouquet and the wine he brought. “These are for you.”

"Ah thank you, the flowers are so pretty!" She inhaled the flowers’ scent.

"Not as pretty as you..." Severus couldn't take his eyes off of her, Scarlett has aged like a fine wine.

She blushed lightly at his statement and looked away from him. "You can directly go to the dinner table; we better eat them before they get cold. And you know what, i cooked everything by myself, no help from the house elf!"

"Today is the big day then huh? You are showing me your improved cooking skills?"

"Oh yes today is the day!" Scarlett giggled while they were taking their seats.

He looked at the small feast that she prepared for them. It wasn't a classic Christmas feast since both of them were vegetarians but everything was looking more than perfect.

"I must say, i am already impressed Scarlett. Everything looks and smells splendid."

"Everything tastes splendid too, i guarantee." She winked at him. "Help yourself, bon Appetit!"

After the dinner they moved to the couch with their drinks in hands. Severus has really enjoyed the foods even he admitted that Scarlett's cooking skills have moved from 1 to 5 point. Scarlett was more than happy to hear that because cooking wasn't her best skill at all.

Hours have passed and they have talked little bit of that and little bit of this, ate the cake Scarlett has baked and listened to some music from the record player. After 4 glasses of wine, Scarlett had an unnecessary amount of courage and suddenly asked him if he had anyone in his life even though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer. Severus wasn't expecting that question at all but he had the answer.

"No, i don't." Severus finished off the wine in his glass. Starting a new relationship didn’t even cross his mind after their breakup. It was either Scarlett or no one for him.

"How come you are still single? You would make a great husband, i am sure."

Severus sighed and shook his head. "Scarlett, you are the only one who value me, every part of me that i don't even like myself... And i am so stupid that i let you go..." He wasn't planning the say those things but they did flow from his mouth, apparently wine has affected him too. But he didn’t care, if they had to do the talk they would now.

"I didn't want to go, you left me..." Scarlett whispered while playing with the wine glass. He hasn't even given her a proper reason, just left her. "Why did you leave? I deserve an answer Severus... It has been years, won’t you tell me still?”

Severus still didn't want to tell her the reason, he was sure it would make Scarlett very upset but he knew he should eventually. The reason has made sense to him at the time but the moment he broke up with her, Severus has regretted his decision deeply but he couldn't turn back because he has thought she wouldn't want him back anymore after how much he hurt her.

Severus took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, this talk wouldn’t be easy at all for both of them. "I will tell you but please let me finish it before saying anything… You remember that nightmare-like times between us and Sirius… I have visited Sirius when he was at the hospital after his suicide attempt, this was before your dad informed you about it. All he talked about was you and how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. And i thought maybe he loves you more since he tried to kill himself after you cut the ties with him, because of me... Scar i don't know, i just thought that he could give you more things than me and you deserve the best so i decided that you would be happier with him than being with me... Don’t look at me like that…"

Scarlett couldn't believe the things she just heard. She has always thought that he fell in love with someone else or he didn't love her anymore. "Severus, that is the stupidest thing i've ever heard from you... Didn't i show you enough that i was in love with you deeply and i was so happy with you...? I didn't want anyone or anything else but you Severus. I loved you… but apparently you didn’t love me enough…"

“That’s not true…” He couldn't dare to look into her eyes or say anything else, the words stuck into his throat. Now he knew it is a stupid reason but as a young boy it made sense to him. Severus has never thought a beautiful and rich girl like Scarlett would be his friend, let alone be dating someone like him. And there was Sirius, Hogwarts's most handsome boy and Scarlett's lifelong best friend, plus he was in love with her like crazy. Sirius looked like a better fit for Scarlett rather than himself, he never felt confident against Sirius, Severus didn’t have the looks nor the money while Sirius had both. But now looking at Scarlett and Sirius's divorce, it was clear that his thoughts were nonsense because he would never cheat on Scarlett, ever.

"Severus...?"

Scarlett’s trembling voice brought him back to reality from his thoughts. Severus looked into her tearful eyes, she always told more with her eyes and Severus liked that silent communication but now her eyes had an effect of a dagger and stabbed his heart. Then his eyes moved to her red lips and unconsciously he leant into them ever so slightly but he pulled himself back in the next second he noticed what’s he doing, he shouldn't have kissed her even he wanted nothing else. Scarlett was the same; her heart was wanting to kiss him but her brain was saying it's not a good idea at the current situation.

"I better go... Thank you for the dinner." Severus stood up to leave suddenly; If he stayed any longer, he was scared that he wouldn't control himself and the conversation had a tool on both of them.

Scarlett just nodded, she still couldn’t process the things Severus revealed. "Good night..."

"Good night Scarlett..." And he vanished in the air.

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atomicstrawbrys · 4 years

Text

We Need to Talk

Summary: Alfred’s girlfriend isn’t usually one for cryptic messages. So, when he gets a text that they need to have a ‘talk,’ he can’t help but worry. USUK. //

Alfred, we need to talk.

That was the only text message that Alfred’s girlfriend, Alice, sent him. He gulped as he read it, running a hand through his hair as he wondered what it could mean. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong recently, and besides, when he messed up Alice was usually a lot more open about it, and they talked it through. Cryptic messages definitely weren’t her style, but, hell, that just made Alfred more nervous.

Though they were in their college years now, Alfred had met Alice when they were thirteen. A new student from another country, well, Alice got all the attention, with her fancy accent and her prim and proper clothes and demeanor. Not all of it was good attention- she was teased mercilessly by some, but she gave as good as she got. And honestly, that was what had drawn Alfred to her. She was composed, sure, but there was a fire burning in those eyes that was more than ready to flare up against anyone that would do her harm. She was smart, sharp, and witty, but also gentle and kind, and on her birthday, she brought in cupcakes she’d made herself. And god, they were delicious.

Alfred’s quiet admiration had turned into a soft infatuation once they got into high school. Everything Alice did was amazing, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought. People whispered when she switched out tartan dresses and white blouses for baggy jeans and hoodies, and they stared when she came into school with her hair cut to the base of her neck rather than in a long, flowing ponytail or braid. But to be honest, Alfred didn’t give an ounce of care to what she looked like- she was always gorgeous, as long as her eyes remained a sharp, refreshing lime green, as long as she snorted when she laughed, and as long as her blush brought out her face full of freckles.

Alfred went to prom with her in junior year. He’d planned out a big love confession, with roses and sparklers and confetti and anything his Hollywood-saturated brain could think of. But, one day Alice simply turned to him, looked him over, and said “Hey, do you want to go to prom with me?” and Alfred had melted.

Now, years later, they were still going steady. They’d dated leading up to and after junior prom, and they stayed together throughout high school and their freshman year of college. Every day spent with Alice was like being in Eden- everything she said and did commanded his attention, and as far as Alfred was concerned, she had hung the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky.

And, evidently, she wanted to have a talk. Nervously, he tacked his message out on his phone’s keyboard. He sent it, adding a little smiley face to try and diffuse the tension he felt through the screen.

Sure thing, baby! :) Is everything okay?

He got a response right away.

That will depend on you. I’ll be at your apartment tonight.

Mysteries, mysteries...whatever this was, Alice wasn’t ready to divulge it just yet. Alfred’s stomach was doing flips, and it was hard not to think of the worst possible outcome. Alice wasn’t going to break up with him...right? Of course, he wouldn’t stop her, he’d never do anything to hurt her, but...he thought they were happy. She told him she loved him every day, they laughed and joked around and could sit comfortably in perfect silence for hours- not that that happened often, since Alfred was by his own admission a chatterbox. Still, she loved listening to him, and would actually pay attention and ask questions when he launched into his long and aimless tangents about everything that happened in his day. Had he been annoying her? This whole time? She’d have said something, wouldn’t she?

Alfred spent the afternoon as a bundle of nerves, the only thing on his mind being the ominous message sitting in his pocket. He felt as if he were falling, whilst simultaneously being crushed by stones. He was distracted in his classes, and though he was usually a dutiful note-taker, (Alice wasn’t the only one with good grades), he found himself staring blankly at his professors and not absorbing a word they said. This would give him a hell of a time doing the chapter quizzes later in the week, but today, the only thing that mattered was figuring things out with his girlfriend.

When he got to his apartment, Alice was waiting outside. She was so beautiful, just like always- short, cropped hair, flattened chest covered by a green sweater, brown slacks and matching penny loafers...she looked up at him, and Alfred could tell she’d been crying, the telltale red rings around her eyes being the only indication he needed. “Oh, baby…” He murmured, face crumpling as he approached her. “Whatever happened, I am so sorry, okay? Did something happen? Is it my fault?” Alice cleared her throat and gestured towards the door. “Alfred- I’d rather speak about this inside.” “Oh! Oh, right, of course, sorry,” Alfred fished his house key out of his jacket pocket, fumbling with it and unlocking his door after a couple tries. He placed a hand on Alice’s back, gently guiding her in. “Do you want tea?” He looked to her, eyes big and pleading for some kind of reassurance that things were okay. He didn’t get it, though. Alice’s face didn’t betray anything about why she’d come, and other than shaking her head to refuse the tea, it didn’t change. “Alfred,” She began, slowly. “I love you so, so much.” She took his hand, gaze cast down as she blinked quickly. “I hope I’ve made that quite clear over the years we’ve seen each other.” Alfred just nodded and squeezed her hand. He could be unobservant, but even he could tell that the air was heavy, and it was Alice’s time to speak. “What I need to tell you- it’s scary, because I’m afraid I may lose you if I say it, and I don’t ever want to lose you. But I need to make myself happy too, you know?” She looked up at him, sniffing and shaking her head, her bangs falling over her eyes. “You’re a wonderful man. And...I should have told you sooner, probably, but I just kept thinking you’d just get it eventually- I realize that was naive of me, ha, you’re not stupid in the slightest but you are dense, my Love.” She let out a hoarse chuckle, one that made Alfred nervous. It was the sad sort of laugh- one someone might do when they were getting ready to say goodbye. “Alice..” He started, but she cut him off. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and although she was nervous when she spoke, her voice didn’t tremble. “No, Alfred. My name is Arthur.”

Oh. Oh.

And suddenly, it clicked. Little things that really should have tipped him off, but didn’t because Arthur was right, he was dense, denser than lead- he should have noticed the day he’d seen Arthur in his binder, but god, he’d thought it was a compression tank for sports. He should have noticed when their teachers referred to Arthur as ‘he,’ and he never corrected them. He should have noticed it when Arthur absolutely beamed the day a stranger referred to him as ‘young man.’ And then, as Alfred floated back to the present, he realized Arthur was still talking.

“-And I know, Al, that you’ll always respect who I am, but I also realize that you’re attracted to women and I’m, well, not one. While I love you to death and I want to stay together more than anything, I realize that you might not be able to reciprocate that and I want you to know that I’m not going to be upset at you if you choose to break up with me-” He was talking a mile a minute, nervous and wringing his hands in the absolutely adorable way he always did when he was unsure of something but wanted it badly.

Laughing, Alfred scooped up his boyfriend, swinging him around like a doll. “Break up with you? Baby, I thought you were gonna break up with me!” He pressed a wet kiss to Arthur’s cheek, and hugged him close, nosing against his hair.

“So...we are staying together?” Arthur replied, arching his brow with a small, hopeful smile gracing his lips. Alfred kissed him, chuckling. “‘Course we are. Artie, you should know by now that I’m gonna love you no matter who you are.” Then, Alfred’s grin turned bashful, and he set Arthur down so he could rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, though, for not pickin’ up on it before.”

Arthur laughed as well, and gave a cute little snort, shaking his head. “I’ve been dating you long enough to know that subtlety isn’t always your strong suit. I’m not that surprised, to be honest.” He held out his arms, a silent request for Alfred to pick him up again. Alfred obliged.

Arthur nuzzled against his neck, and gently kissed the skin under his jaw. “I am pleased, though, that you’ve handled it well. You seem happy, at least.” “Of course I’m happy,” Alfred replied, turning his head to kiss Arthur’s brow. “I just found out that I’m dating the cutest guy in the whole world.”

#usuk #ukus #hetalia #aph #hws #APH England #APH America #hws england #hws america #arthur kirkland #alfred f. jones #alfred f jones #alfred's got a good heart he's just a lil dumb #please reblog!!#so more people can see

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

3. More Than a Song

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.7k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: prepare for ANGST! and dunkirk premiere harry aka one of his best looks ever :) also thank u to @havethetimeofyourstyles for making my line breaks bc i’m inept at making things xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

“Baby,” Harry said, turning to her from where he stood in his closet. “Can you help me with my collar? I can’t get it.”

Y/N set down her phone—she was ready first, which wasn’t surprising considering it took Harry ages to get ready, partially because he kept getting distracted with her. He’d touch her, run his hands all over her, ask if he could get her out of her lingerie, and she’d have to remind him that she’d barely even had it on and they had an important event. “Sure.”

Harry looked dashing—he always did. After much debate, they had decided on a simple white silk short-sleeved button down and a pair of flared black pants, cool enough for May in LA, but still perfectly Harry. Y/N had painted his nails last night a pastel purple while they had watched a documentary about sheep—which Harry had selected—and the color popped against the neutrals of the rest of the outfit. Shoes were still up in the air, but Y/N was trying to get him to wear the yellow loafers he’d gotten recently, the ones she was so obsessed with she was considering stealing for herself.

Somehow Harry always managed to mess up his collars before big nights, the nerves probably getting to him. Y/N smoothed the material on his shoulders to relax him before popping up his collar and folding it back down crisply. “There you go.” In the mirror in front of Harry, her eyes trailed down his body, from his sweet curls she had labored over styling in the bathroom, to the recently tailored pants he wore. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, a smile dancing onto Harry’s face at the action. “Nervous, bubs?”

He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Bit. More for you to hear it than anyone else.”

The honesty of his statement brought butterflies to her tummy. Harry had been in and out of meetings for the past few months getting together the release of his debut album and putting the final touches on it, but at no point had he let her hear it. She suspected it was because he was scared she’d hate it, but when she asked her dad about it, he told her to think about it as his journal. His journal of a past that Y/N hadn’t been a part of. That had made Y/N understand a bit better, the prospect of being nervous of what she’d think of him more the worry than a worry of what she’d think of the music. So she nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, careful not to get lipstick on the fabric, and told him, “I’m going to love it. It’ll be perfect, just like you.”

Harry’s arms wrapped backwards so he could hold her to him and they stood there, holding one another, basking in each other’s presence before everyone else arrived. It had been a busy couple months for them to start a relationship—Y/N was swamped at work, her boss having left so she had to take on extra work, and Harry was releasing his album, Dunkirk was coming out in the summer, and his tour started in the fall. It was a lot to say the least, and Y/N tried not to think about it too often because she’d get all in her head and ignore Harry’s texts for hours until he called her and asked her if she wanted gummy worms or Hershey’s for movie night. Then, she’d remind herself that they were doing good—really good, even. Better than other relationships that she had been in for this long. Usually this was when she got bored, but with Harry she kept falling for him more and more every day they spent with each other.

He was like a drug, and she was addicted.

“We should head down,” Y/N said, brushing back from him. “Wear the yellow ones, yeah?”

He mumbled something under his breath about her being bossy and coming for Lambert’s job and she snorted, leaving him in the walk-in closet to straighten himself out. Her phone in her hand, she slipped on her heels, a summer sandal with a platform so her feet didn’t hurt, the perfect compliment to her flowing sundress she’d selected for the release party. When Harry had seen it he’d promptly asked if she could take it off so he could ravish her, so she decided it was a good choice. It emphasized her curves in a way that made her feel confident and she’d pinned her hair over one shoulder, the earrings Harry had gotten her for their three-month anniversary on display.

Re-emerging, Harry rolled his eyes over her body and she gave him a soft smile at the way his eyes screamed with desire. “See something you like?”

“Fuck yes,” he cursed. “Can’t wait to have you all to myself later.” Hands in hers, he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, the kind that made her toes curl, before pulling back. “C’mon, Azoff is yelling at me over text about being late to my own party.”

“It’s literally downstairs,” she pointed out. “He’s just mad he can’t embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Harry laughed, arm tucked around her waist as they descended the stairs of his house. He’d bought it at the end of February, a birthday gift to himself, and Y/N had thought to herself at the time that it wasn’t about her, it was about him. But it was kind of hard whenever he had her help him pick out all the furniture, making sure she approved of the colors he painted the walls and the patio furniture.

Downstairs, the party was in full force. Harry hadn’t invited too many people, mostly the same crowd as his birthday. Since it was at his house, he was hesitant to give the address out to too many people, but ultimately he wanted to be able to do whatever the fuck he wanted to celebrate, no paps around. Also, it was hot and he had a pool, so he had told everyone to bring a swimsuit just in case they wanted to take a dip. Y/N had persuaded him to keep it simple and they’d ordered pizza from his favorite place and she made some a ton of margaritas for everyone to help themselves to. Jeff was left in charge of the door when Harry was late finishing getting dressed, and she could tell that he had done a fine job. The tunes were going, people were drinking, and everyone seemed happy. He had even put the album countdown that Y/N had spent two hours making that morning on the TV.

“Stay close to me, please?” Harry asked her, bending his head to whisper in her ear when they reached the group.

Y/N nodded, and Harry began happily talking to Jeff. Y/N started up a conversation with another one of the Full Stop employees who had come who she’d met at a brunch a few weeks ago, plucking some details from her brain about her boyfriend to check-in about. Then, a familiar face flashed in the crowd. “Hanna!”

Harry had suggested the idea of inviting her best friends to the party and Y/N had leapt at the idea. The prospect of having her two favorite people be there with her to celebrate her boyfriend was her idea of a perfect night. Hanna’s red hair popped up, her smile giddy from seeing Y/N. Cutting through the crowd, she quickly made it to Y/N, who wrapped her best friend up in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said. “Find it okay?”

Hanna nodded. “Security at the gate did not want to let me in though. Jamie is on his way—Cole called while he was walking out the door.” Jamie and Cole had been together for years and Y/N decided the first time she met Cole that there wasn’t anyone better for Jamie, and Jamie seemed to agree. “How are you?”

“Amazing,” Y/N replied and she truly was. She felt like she was on cloud nine right now, the energy bouncing off of Harry absorbing into every one of her pores. “Excited to finally hear it.”

“You should be.” Hanna leaned over and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

His attention shifted from some work-related conversation with Jeff quickly over to his girlfriend’s best friend. “Oh, hello Hanna,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No place I’d rather be,” Hanna replied. “Now can I steal Y/N?”

Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N, but he gave her a warm smile. “‘Course.”

Y/N followed her best friend out onto the patio, giving hugs and saying hello to the friends of Harry’s she’d met during the past few months of them being together. Harry watched her with awe at how well she had fit into his life, she’d succeeded faster than any other girl he’d ever dated. The tidbits of information she remembered and the way she made an effort to be present in the conversations, her deep knowledge of music and the industry coming in handy. He loved having a girl at her side who knew what all of his team did without him having to explain it to her. It was small, but it made a difference to him.

“H,” Mitch said, pulling his gaze from his girlfriend back to the conversation he’d been having with Mitch, Adam, and Sarah. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking a sip of the margaritas Y/N had made for the party. She’d slaved over them all day while he was on calls and doing interviews and he appreciated it so much. He reminded himself to tell her later when he had her alone and could tell her properly.

Sarah smiled at him knowingly. “He’s just looking at Y/N, as usual.”

Mitch and Adam chuckled, but Harry frowned. “Am I not allowed to look at my girl?”

“You are,” Adam said, “just be careful, mate. You told us about the rule, remember?”

The Rule. The goddamn rule that controlled this relationship more than he felt like he did, sometimes. He didn’t know how much Y/N thought about it at this point in their relationship, but then again it was still technically pretty early in the grand scheme of things. But for him, it was a constant reminder than their time together was fleeting, that at any point she might want to leave him, his lifestyle too hard. And it’s not that he blamed her. He just hated that it was a possibility. “I know.”

“How’s it going?” Adam pressed. Harry had been distant these past few weeks, holing himself up in the house with Y/N every chance he got when they weren’t rehearsing and he wasn’t on a call. It was hectic and he knew that his friends worried about him.

Harry took another sip of his margarita, eyes finding Y/N out on the patio laughing with Hanna, hair blowing in the wind. “Been good. She seems really happy,” he continued at the sight of her smile. “Bit nervous about tonight, if I’m being honest though.” He’d told Y/N the same thing, but the pit in his stomach still lingered. She had said she was excited, but he didn’t know how she would react to him releasing an album full of songs about his exes and flings.

They all got it though. “About which song?”

“All of ‘em,” he said nervously, and it was true. Y/N came into his life after the album was done, the idea of adding a song about her impossible. Even though he could’ve written dozens—he already had, the voice memos on his phone to prove it. Sometimes he’d sneak away to the bathroom while she slept to sing something that popped into his head, and the few that he’d shown the band they liked. It was all material for the next album, they told him. Some of them had even become full-fledged songs after a few hours locked in his office, but he hadn’t shared them yet. They still felt too raw.

Sarah reached out a hand and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll get it, H. Her dad’s a musician, you know? If there was anyone who would understand, it would be her.”

And she was probably right. But there was a feeling in his gut that Harry couldn’t shake—that tonight wouldn’t end well for them. He’d felt it when he had woken up this morning and no matter how many time he kissed Y/N to make it go away, it lingered and it was making his brain go wild.

He hoped it was just the nerves.

The night passed quickly. There were speeches, a cake, Jeff pulled out a bottle of champagne, and Y/N had rejoined Harry at his side for the most part. And at this party, there was no question as to who she was—to everyone she was “Y/N, my girlfriend,” and Harry loved it. Particularly the look on her face that she would get every once in a while when her eyes caught his. He didn’t know what to call it, but he just knew that he felt the same way.

Before he knew it, it was 11:59 and everyone had gathered in the living room. The TV had the countdown on that Y/N had designed, the album cover with the numerical countdown over it, another bottle of champagne in Harry’s hand, ready to pop. Y/N stood a few people away from him, watching him with that look in her eyes that she’d been giving him all night that made him weak in the knees and made him curious what she would do to him when they were upstairs. He knew why Y/N was keeping her distance right now—she had mentioned it once before when they were curled up in bed after Harry asked her to be put down as a co-host for the party, that this success was his and his alone. That she was here at the end and she wanted it to be all his. She was here to support him and give him kisses after, but it was all his.

“10, 9, 8.” This was it. It was Harry’s debut album, his first solo record. It was weird for the rest of the guys to not be here when an album dropped. Usually, they were all standing together with bottles of champagne, ready to celebrate with one another.

“7, 6, 5, 4.” And Harry didn’t know which one was worse and which was better. Maybe they were both equally as wonderful, because he had other friends here to stand by his side. Jeff, Sarah, Mitch, Adam. James, floating around somewhere. His mum and sister tried to be here but Gemma got sick and Anna wanted to stay behind to take care of her.

“3, 2,” He had Y/N. He had Y/N’s excited expression, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, the look of pride on her face that he treasured.

“1!” But this was his, his success, his win. With the first notes of the album playing in the room, he popped the bottle of champagne and with the bubbles running down the side of the bottle, he took a long swig.

Cheers went up around him, his best friends celebrating his biggest success of his career thus far, one he’d fought long and hard for. One he was immensely proud of and he hoped he would always look back on fondly. And the sound of his album blaring in his house’s sound system—the sound of Meet Me in the Hallway, it brought him to tears.

“Aww, man,” Adam brought him into a hug, patting Harry softly on his back. “Y/N! Come here!”

Y/N was there in an instant, wrapping Harry up in her arms, his head falling onto her shoulder, sobs wracking his body as they stood there. He didn’t even care that his friends were all there witnessing him crying into his girlfriend’s shoulder, he was just so overwhelmed.

“You okay, bubs?” Y/N asked, petting the back of his head softly.

“It’s a lot,” he replied softly, trying to find the words. “Happy. But also just…”

Her hands ran up and down his back, rubbing circles. “I know, baby. You don’t need to explain, okay?”

Harry didn’t reply, just tried to find his breath and stop the tears that were welling in his eyes. And when he did, he lifted his head and his lips met Y/N’s, the sound of whoops and cat-calls breaking out around them. The middle finger that Harry raised to them all did nothing to stifle them either. “Thank you,” he said into her hair when they broke.

The feeling of her lips on his neck, a soft kiss, brought him to his knees. “Always.”

And Harry hoped it was true.

While the rest of the party swirled around her—dancing had broke out, James had started making themed drinks, his favorite being the Sign of the Times one—Y/N sat right in front of the speaker, listening to every word of the album. It was her first time hearing it and she knew Harry would probably play it for her later, but she wanted to hear it now. She wanted to hear his pride and joy, the thing that had him beaming and laughing with his friends, belting out the lyrics with Mitch and Adam in a conga line that was worming its way through the room.

And what she heard broke her heart in so many ways.

Y/N knew that music, and much of art, stemmed from pain and hurt. A good amount of it was also about love, but the songs that were some of the rawest, the ones that hit home for most people, were the ones about our darkest moments. Harry’s album was full of them. Heartbreak, heartache, regrets, addiction to people and things. It was chock full of every one of his deepest darkest secrets, especially the women who he had loved before he met her. There was a part of her that knew that he would tell her in his own time about the stories of some of these women—he had mentioned a few when she’d asked about them—and that she didn’t need to push, but there was this disgusting, self-sabotaging part of her that wanted to know every sordid detail, even though she knew it would hurt her.

This was one of the many reasons she had always told herself she would never date a musician, but more importantly that she would never fall for one. Because their relationship, their joys and pitfalls, heartache and brightest moments, it was all fodder for a song, an album, a career. It wasn’t the artist’s fault, that’s how it worked, but that didn’t make it any easier to be the person they were writing about.

Was that all she was? Another girl for Harry to write a song about?

She wanted to be happy for him, to be glowing and beaming for him, but the part of her that she hated, the part that conjured the worst possible parts of people, it was crawling out of her head. It was twisting Harry and she knew it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t believe it.

The album only lasted 40 minutes, but in those 40 minutes the party died down. People had jumped in the pool while Y/N sat by the speaker, they had finished their drinks, they had said their goodbyes, the object of the event passed. Hanna and Jamie came over and gave her hugs, concerned looks on their faces, and told her to call them if she needed anything. When she looked up, the last notes of From the Dining Table fading, it was just her left.

A light from the patio twinkled and she could see the water rippling under the moonlight. Harry.

She left the stereo silent, not cuing up another playlist, and tugged off her shoes, then her dress. Following the pull of the man who had written such a beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful record, she walked to the patio.

“There you are.” He was floating on his back in just his boxers, which didn’t surprise Y/N in the slightest. The fairy lights they had strung up together were dim in the nighttime darkness, but just bright enough so she could see Harry and all his beauty. “Look bloody gorgeous, love.”

Y/N tucked her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, knotting the hair so it stayed. “Finished the album,” she said, walking to the water’s edge.

“Yeah?” Harry swam over to her, leaning his head on her thighs that rested on the concrete that lined the pool. “What’d you think?”

She couldn’t help the heartbroken smile that graced her features, because she was too tired to lie to him. Exhausted from trying to pretend that she didn’t think about the fact that he could leave her at any moment, that the insecurities of who she was and who he was didn’t catch up to her sometimes. His fingertips brushed at her cheeks and Y/N realized she was crying.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He hoisted himself out of the water and hooked one of his legs around her waist, pulling her into his wet skin. It was cold against the night air, but somehow Harry was still warm to her.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she said slowly, struggling to find her words.

Fingers drifted up and down her back. “Just do your best.”

She tried not to think about the fact that she was crying on his album release day, that they were having this conversation now. One that sat in the back of her mind when she was alone and Harry couldn’t banish it. “The album is beautiful, Harry,” she started, “but it’s about a past that I wasn’t a part of.” Harry was quiet, but his arms didn’t move from their place around her, so she forged on. “I know that artists write from their experience, and that this album was done before I met you, but there’s this part of me, this horrible part that I utterly despise, that is jealous of them. The women who you wrote about. And the fact that it’s them that you’re going to sing about on stage every night. Does that make sense?”

The brush of his chin against her spine showed her that yes, he understood.

“And,” she continued, voice breaking, “I can’t stop thinking about the fact that maybe I’m going to be a song.”

“Of course you’re going to be a song,” Harry said, his voice soft and sweet.

He didn’t get it. To him, being a song was an honor, but to her, it was a threat almost. “No—it’s that I’m going to be only a song.”

The man next to her didn’t say a word. The chirp of the crickets stretched between their bodies, which were still close on the concrete floor, not a muscle moved.

“I don’t want to only be a song.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse, sobs wracking her body she didn’t expect, didn’t want. She couldn’t have this conversation if she was crying, but she couldn’t hold them in either. It was her biggest fear, the one that festered below all of the others, threatening to consume the relationship she had with a man she was falling for. And falling was the only way to describe it—without any support, a free fall that was utterly terrifying but also blissful peaceful.

Suddenly, his fingers swept across her neck, brushing against her sensitive skin. “Y/N,” he whispered, “you could never be just a song. You’re—you’re like the stars and the moon to me. In that room I could always feel you, wherever you were, and I didn’t want to be anywhere where you weren’t. And maybe this is too fast and too soon, but what I feel for you, fuck Y/N how can you not see how much you are to me?”

He pulled her head so she faced him, his eyes teary to match her own. “Do you hear me? You’re so much more than a song. You’re an album. You’re my life’s work, my masterpiece, a symphony. A song can’t contain how I feel for you, it’s just a piece of a billion I could write.”

Soft as a feather, his lips pressed to her cheeks and then up and across her forehead, over her eyelids, barely leaving a mark but a searing fire in his wake that shook Y/N’s core. “And Y/N, you’re better than a song. You’re my life. You’re here, you’re real, you’re with me. Y/N, you will never be just a song to me. You never could be. Not to me.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his, inhaling his cologne and exhaling her feelings for him. He managed to rip down all her defenses, the ones she had spent years building up, and it was frightening. But then she looked at him, the way he smiled at her, the way he kissed her, the way he said her name, and it wasn’t quite as scary. She hoped he could feel how much she cared for him in the way she kissed him, their tears blending into one as they scrambled for each other. Lips breaking and meeting, desperate for more and more and more. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, holding him to her, wanting to have his whole body imprinted on hers.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “you heard me? You understand?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, “I hear you.” She brushed her fingers through his hair gently, curling the wet strands back. “You may need to remind me sometimes.”

“Always,” he whispered, catching her kiss with his own, tugging her into him, arms around her body in a vice grip.

She lost herself in Harry, him an ocean and her a boat lost at sea. Maybe it was their conversation or the night or the alcohol flowing through their veins, but it felt different. The way he kissed her felt heavier, her moans a prayer, his fingers on his back a weight she never wanted lifted. Her legs wrapped around his waist so she was firmly in his lap, arms thrown over his shoulders, their bare bodies except for their underwear pressed against each other without a molecule of air between them.

His lips drew a line across the top of her shoulder, a fire building in her belly as his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra. It was a light pink she’d worn just for him and when he nudged at the strap with his nose, letting it slip from her shoulders, she didn’t care that he could barely see it. She’d show him tomorrow morning. He pulled the fabric away and bent his head, licking at one of her nipples and then the other, gasps falling from her mouth like poetry. Without meaning to, her hips rolled over his cock, the thin fabric of their underwear doing nothing to keep the heat of her center from touching his sensitive skin.

He moaned her name, the sound muffled against her neck as he sucked a love bite into the spot that made her keen every time he nipped into it. She rocked again on him, his fingers digging into her skin so hard it would leave marks tomorrow but she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted to have his marks on her tomorrow, she wanted to show the world that she wasn’t just a song, she was his, she was his girlfriend and she made him feel this way.

Hands on skin, he pressed her down onto the concrete so she was lying down, her ankles tucked around his hips, anchoring her to him. When his hips bucked into hers, she let out a sharp cry, the angle brushing her clit perfectly. “Right there?” He mumbled, nipping and tugging on her nipple, laving a circle that left her squirming against the concrete.

“Off,” she whispered, tugging at his boxers with her hands. “Wanna feel you.” With his help, they shimmied off his boxers without too much difficulty and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when she could feel his cock brush against her covered folds. Reaching a hand down, she brushed the pad of her thumb across his tip, a pained hiss flying from Harry’s throat. He was sensitive and Y/N loved it.

They didn’t have a condom, but she didn’t care. She’d been on birth control for years and she knew Harry hadn’t slept with anyone else since she found her way into his life. Plus, she needed him—she wanted to feel him, raw and bare inside of her.

They were going to have sex on the concrete next to his pool, but she didn’t care. They had had sex before and they would have sex again. She just needed him in a desperate, crawling way. When he nudged at her underwear she pressed into him, letting him pull them down her legs without a second thought.

“Condom,” Harry mumbled as she chased after his lips, open mouthed and heavy.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Want you like this.”

Harry’s head dropped to the space between her neck and shoulder, the groan that filled the air unlike anything she had heard before. “Gonna ruin me,” he whispered, brushing his cock against her folds. Y/N whimpered at the sensation, her fingers begging him for more, for anything she would give him. When his fingers brushed her clit, his name tumbled from her lips without abandon.

“Harry, please,” she panted, fingers deep in his hair.

That was all it took. She was so wet from the foreplay and just him that he didn’t even need to stretch her out. Her mouth fell open as he pushed inside, a mewl landing on his lips as he kissed her. Slowly, he pulled out and then back in, both of them groaning from the sensation of him being bare inside her. He felt impossibly close, every ridge and edge of him pressing against her in the most perfect way. She didn’t know if she could use condoms again, because holding Harry to her chest, arms around his shoulders as he fucked slowly, deeply, into her, her able to feel every inch of her, it was bliss on a new level. A sensation she didn’t know she was missing with him.

Her ankles hitched higher on his hips and when he pushed back in he hit a new angle, a groan ripping from his throat that set her on fire. “Can I go faster?” He said with a grunt. “I—I don’t know how much—“

“Yes,” she whimpered at his words.

He didn’t wait. He drew back and into her, pistoning his hips at a pace she couldn’t even describe, hitting that spot deep inside of her that made her eyes roll back over and over. How he managed to do that she didn’t know, but he deserved an award. Fingers grabbing at his skin in desperation for something to hold her together, Y/N gasped and exhaled his name, a plea and a beg and a prayer all in one. Her back hurt from the concrete but she didn’t care, she just wanted to finish, to feel him release deep inside of her.

Then he thumbed over her clit and she arched up, back leaving the concrete as the fire deep within her threatened to bubble over. When he start brushing circles there, Y/N gripped his shoulders like they would keep her anchored to Earth, her body possibly transcending. Harry bent his head and sucked a love bite on her breast, the puncture of skin forcing her head back, unable to keep it together.

“You close?” He asked, littering her chest with kisses, “Please tell me you are, I can’t, I can’t hold on…”

She mumbled a yes as he drove deep inside of her, swiveling his hips in a brutal way that left her hands squeezing his butt cheeks to get him to do it again. When he did, she swore she saw stars. “Gonna come,” she said, eyes searching for his lips in the low lighting. “Kiss?”

Without hesitation, he kissed her, open mouthed and dirty and sloppy and perfect. She wanted every rough-edged and sweet part of him, every kiss and press of his body against hers. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he chanted as he pressed into her again and again, her body drawing tighter and tighter. Then, he pinched her clit and she came, the ball in her tummy unravelling, hips bucking up against him as she rode out her high. Her eyes stayed trained on him as she did, not wanting to miss his face when he came inside of her.

His hips stuttered, release unloading inside of her in ropes that left him cursing like a sailor. Hair wet and sweaty, sticking to his forehead, and irises blown out, he looked beautiful. She held him close until his body settled, shaking as he came down from his high, forehead resting on the swell of her breasts.

Slowly, he rolled off of her, tugging her body into his so she wasn’t on the cold concrete anymore. He was fiery hot and it kept her warm in the cold air. “Can we never use a rubber again?” He asked softly, and she giggled, hiding her face in his neck.

“Don’t see any reason to,” she replied and he hummed with joy. Tucking her hands under her chin, she looked at him with a smile. “Congrats on your album, baby.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. “I’m so happy I shared today with you.” She kissed him softly and let him hold her close, not wanting to move even to go to bed because it meant leaving his grasp. And as much as her head told her that it wasn’t forever, she couldn’t help but hope it would be.

It had been four days since Harry had texted her. Five since he called her. Six since they FaceTimed.

He was in London for the press junket for Dunkirk and Y/N was supposed to fly out for the July 13th premiere—it was decided a month ago, the tickets booked and her time off from work already approved. But as the days stretched on and the silence grew longer, she couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. If she had done something wrong.

It wasn’t the first time he had been away from LA. They had a conversation about how they were going to handle distance when he travelled back in April, before the album came out and he had to fly around and do press for two weeks. That time, though, he handled it well—he called every night before she went to bed if he could, if not, he sent a long voice memo that she listened to when she woke up. They texted all day, him sending photos from dressing rooms and backstage at talk shows, even FaceTiming her so she could meet the stars he shared the nights with.

But this time was different. Since he left he had texted her just a handful of times and it was when he was at his mom’s house visiting home before press started. And then once press kicked into gear, he was gone, her texts ignored, calls not returned. She was trying not to seem desperate, but with the more time that passed the more anxious she got. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t what they’d agreed on. He knew her fears, the dark thoughts that crowded in when she spent too much time worrying about their relationship, and yet he wasn’t taking the actions that helped her calm down. Even though she knew it wasn’t his responsibility to take care of her brain, it helped to know he thought about her, at the very least.

The morning before her flight was supposed to leave, she called Hanna in a panic. Her suitcases laid open on her bed, clothes scattered around her, tears streaming down her face. She had tried to call Harry again to confirm her arrival plans, only to be met with his voicemail, again.

Hi, you’ve reached Harry. I’ll give you a call back when I can!

Somehow, the sound of his voice made it worse.

“Han,” she choked out when her friend picked up, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Did he not answer?” Hanna had been counseling her through the whole thing, helping her stay calm and sane, as much as possible at least. From Y/N’s lack of response, just more sobs, Hanna knew immediately. “That prick.”

Y/N wiped a tear from her eye and looked at the ticket in her hand. Harry had forced her to accept his offer of first-class, booking her flight through his agent and everything. “Does he even want me there? Should I not go?”

Hanna was quiet, thoughts rolling through her head. “No,” she finally said. “You should go. Even if it’s just to talk to him in person. You deserve to hear it face-to-face, not by him ghosting you.”

“Even if that means I end up in London and he breaks up with me?”

“Yes,” Hanna replied softly. “But I really, really hope that is not what’s happening.”

At first it had been that he was busy, that he would text when he had time, but it had been six days. Now, both Y/N and Hanna were increasingly worried that it meant the end of their relationship and Y/N was simply not ready for that possibility. She had let Harry in—he had begged her to let him in—and he was going to end things like this? When things got hard with the distance he just…cut her out? “Can you take me to the airport?” Y/N asked, sniffling. “If you don’t I don’t think I’ll be able to force myself to go.”

“Was already planning on it,” Hanna replied. “I’ll bring snacks for the flight.”

“Love you,” Y/N told her. Hanna was her one constant, who knew Y/N better than she knew herself.

“Love you more. Now go finish packing and call me if you need me, okay?”

Y/N told her okay and hung up, her gaze shifting to her suitcase. If he was going to break up with her, then she was going to look so magnificent he would regret every second of it.

Eleven hours in the air meant plenty of time to run over her entire relationship with Harry. She had sat curled up in her seat scrolling through her camera roll and listening to Bon Iver, which was the sappiest thing possible and she didn’t care. Y/N didn’t want to break up with him and the photos and the texts and the memories proved it. Her time with Harry had been so beautifully bright, his presence in her life making so much better, from her confidence to her knowledge to her music taste. And she cared about him in a way she hadn’t let herself do—ever.

She had texted Jeff before she took off, telling him she couldn’t get a hold of Harry and asking where she should go when she landed. He replied with Harry’s Hampstead address and the door code, saying there was a key waiting for her, hidden in the garden, an apology on Harry’s behalf for how busy he had been. The words meant nothing, though, to Y/N. If Harry wanted to apologize he would have to do it in person, not through Jeff.

It was eleven by the time her Uber pulled up to Harry’s house and she thanked the driver as he tugged her luggage from the boot. She waited until he pulled away before she typed in the gate code, not wanting to reveal Harry’s security to anyone—she have been mad at him, but she still didn’t want anything happening to him. The door unlocked for her and she slid inside, shutting it quickly behind her. Pulling her suitcase behind her, she walked up the path, searching for the garden statue Jeff had told her the key was hiding under. When she found it, her fingers ran across the ridges as she made her way to the front door.

His house in LA was warm, it was the Harry she knew. But this house felt colder, the design modern, his personal affects not as visible. Although to his credit, he hadn’t been here for more than a few days in months. A few photos of Anne and Gemma were scattered through the front hall, some framed photos of his time in One Direction nestled between them.

“Harry?” She knew he wasn’t there, but the idea of walking into his house without checking felt too uncomfortable for her. She locked the door tightly behind her, typing in the security code Jeff had sent before re-arming it.

Y/N took her time exploring his house. She perused the main spaces, testing out the couches and peeking at his bookcases, studying the art lining the walls. Then she made her way upstairs to the bedrooms, running her fingers along the edges of his One Direction album plaques that lined the walls of his office, the ones from his debut still resting on the floor waiting to be hung. She found the guest bedrooms with ease and she spent a good five minutes standing on the landing deciding if she should go into his bedroom or set herself up in a guest one.

She settled on a guest bedroom. If he was going to break things off, she didn’t want to know what his bed felt like or smell his clothes or take a shower in his bathroom.

Instead, she showered in the guest bath, washing off the plane smell that lingered on her body. She dressed in shorts and a tank top, letting her hair air dry since she would have to just re-style it for the premiere later. Jeff hadn’t told her what time Harry would be back and she was ravenous, so she wandered downstairs to fix herself some lunch. To fill the silence in the house she turned on The 1975, playing the music from her laptop she had open on the counter as she cooked some pasta she had found in the cabinet. As she ate at his dining table, she tried not to think about the fact that this could be the last time she was in a space of Harry’s. The last time she sat on things he had picked out, the last time she rooted through his fridge, past his obnoxious green juices and leftovers since he hated eating out if he didn’t have to. Her fingers brushed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks.

Reaching down for her fork to take another bite, she suddenly heard the lock click in the front door and the security system begin to beep.

He was home.

She slid her bowl away from her and turned to look at the doorway, waiting to see his face for the first time in over a week. And when he appeared, she couldn’t the return the stretched across his face at the sight of her in his house. He looked the same and somehow that was worse. In a nice shirt from interviews this morning, his hair slightly tossed from running his fingers through it, the sheen on his upper lip from the heat outside. He looked like her Harry, but she didn’t know if he was hers anymore.

“Y/N!” His voice rebounded off the walls, filling her heart with a kind of hope that was crushing.

“Hi,” was all she could muster before looking back down at her pasta. An anger rose in her, replacing the hurt that had lingered for so many days. How could he pretend like everything was okay? How could he smile at her like he hadn’t been ignoring her for days, too busy to even check and see how her flight was?

His footsteps were heavy on the hardwood floors as he made his way over to her. “Baby? What is it?”

“Do you want to break up?” She asked, her question hard compared to his kind, gentle, tentative tone.

“What?” Harry dropped into the seat caddy-corner to the chair she sat in. “What are you talking about?”

She pushed away her bowl and looked him dead in the eye. “I haven’t heard from you in days, Harry. Days. I flew halfway across the world for you and you couldn’t even manage to check-in to see if I was alive?”

He flinched at her words, eyes dropping to the table they sat at. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, words barely audible above her heart beating a mile a minute, pulsing with anger.

“That’s not going to cut it,” she told him, standing up and taking her bowl to the sink. “You fucking ghosted me like I was a girl you’d just met. We’re about to celebrate six months together. And you know what this shit does to me.”

And he did. She could see in his eyes that he knew he was in the wrong, and yet he was quiet. “I was busy.”

“So was I! But I still found two seconds to text you asking how it was going, I found fifteen minutes before bed to call you, and I kept trying even though you couldn’t even manage to reply to me. You’re not that busy, Harry.”

He stood too, walking over to where she stood in his kitchen so that he was a few paces away from her. “I was in and out of interviews from morning to night and when I wasn’t, I was with the cast who I haven’t seen in almost a year. And when I wasn’t doing that Jeff was harassing me about tour details or I was sleeping. I’m sorry if my schedule didn’t allow me to talk to you at every second of the day, Y/N, but this is a huge moment for me and I had to focus on that.” His words were measured, but she could feel the tension rising between them, words unsaid bubbling over.

“And your career is more important than our relationship.” She nodded sarcastically, wiping her wet palms on the dish towel and turning to face him. “Got it, heard loud and clear.”

“Fuck—you know it’s not!” His hand ran through his locks and down his face, struggling to get a handle on his breathing.

“Harry,” she said, trying not to yell, “I’m not going to force you to stay in a relationship that you don’t want to put the time in for. But you know exactly what I need from you—I have been very clear. You know my fears and my insecurities, and you know what triggers them. We had a plan for how to deal with this, and you completely disregarded it!” Her voice rose at the end, the fact that he couldn’t even meet her eyes pushing all of her buttons. “Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”

His eyes met hers and she didn’t see the Harry she knew, the Harry who cared for her, the soft, gentle man. Instead, she saw someone who was pissed off and hurt and grasping at straws. “I can’t dance around your fears every moment of the day,” he said, voice spitting anger. “And I’m sorry if that breaks one of your rules,” the word hitting her in the face, “but you’re going to have to get over it because I can’t spend every second of the day wondering if something I did or said has made you think I don’t care about you! You should know that I don’t want to hurt you, that of course I want to be with you!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me!” His words stabbed her right where it hurt, hitting her fears right in the heart.

Harry turned, his body facing the counter, fingers gripping the edge of the marble. He sucked in breath after breath trying to calm himself down and Y/N tried to find it within herself to have sympathy for him, but she just…couldn’t. She was so pissed off at him she couldn’t think straight.

“I’m not some girl waiting around for Harry Styles to come home, begging him to never leave me,” Y/N said. She was done. She was done with this fight, with him expecting her to be someone she wasn’t. “I’m me and I’m waiting for Harry, the person I care for so deeply it hurts—you are held to the same standards as every other guy, no matter how busy your schedule is. I should not be expected to fit into your schedule all the time. It goes both ways and you operated this week as if it was entirely my job to stay in touch with you. And I am not going to stay in a relationship like that.”

Harry’s head whipped to hers, eyes boring straight into her. “Are you saying you want to break up?”

Y/N tried to keep her head high, tried to hold back the tears. “If you’re going to do this when you’re on tour, I’m done. You know what I want—it’s the same thing I wanted from this relationship the moment I met you. You’re the only one who seems to think things have changed.” And with that, she stormed out of the room, which was probably petty but she didn’t care. She was so mad at him for his actions and his words that she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him.

Harry didn’t follow her.

At 1 o’clock, a knock came on her door.

“If you still want to come, we have to leave for the premiere in an hour. It’s up to you.” And with that, he walked away, not even waiting for her to open the door.

She sat on the bed, considering her options. Did she go and support him anyway, pretend everything was fine? Or did she stay here—or maybe find a hotel—and leave him alone for the premiere?

He had told her how nervous he was about this. This was his first time on a movie red carpet as an actor and he was freaking out about it before he left, a ball of anxiety that she had to carefully untangle. The thought of him being up there alone pained her, despite how his hurtful words lingered in her head. That she had to get over it as if it was that simple.

The red dress she had bought for the premiere hung in the bathroom where she had left it while she showered so the wrinkles would leave the fabric. It was beautiful—a tiered taffeta skirt that cinched in at the waist, a caged bodice showing off her shoulders. When she had tried it on she had felt beautiful, powerful, as if she could take on anything and everything. She had spent a ton of money on the dress and she didn’t want to waste it.

So she got up, turning on BANKS and set about her hair and makeup in the bathroom, praising Hanna for teaching her how to do her makeup in college. She painted her lips red, in the shade that she adored wearing, and twisted up her hair into a chignon that emphasized her neck. Running her fingers along the skin she remembered when Harry had kissed it, but the love bite he had left behind was long healed. Was she asking too much of him? She wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. Was he right, were her fears stifling him?

Then she remembered what Hanna had told her. That he wasn’t anyone different from other guys she had dated, and what she was asking from him wasn’t out of left field. Any guy she would date she would except to check in with her when he was traveling and Harry was no different, no matter what his job was.

Harry was waiting downstairs for her, probably having heard her rummaging around in the closet. When he heard her heels on the stairs, he looked up and his eyesight on her skin burned because he looked gorgeous. Maybe this was a horrible idea, she thought as she made her way towards him. She would have to touch him all night, look at him in his tailored suit, gaze into his green eyes as they were photographed on the red carpet.

“You look beautiful,” he said, words gravelly in his throat.

She stopped a few paces away from him. “Thanks.”

He fiddled with his keys, the silence stretching between them. “Thank you for coming with me. I know you have no reason to, but having you there…It means a lot.”

Instead of replying, because she didn’t have words for him, she just nodded. Because she did have a reason—even though she was mad at him, she still cared for him. Despite not wanting to, she still craved him giving her a kiss on the cheek as they walked out the door.

The drive to the red carpet was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background the only sound. They sat on either side of the backseat, Y/N staring out the window while Harry fiddled with his phone. She hadn’t been to London since she was 18 for her graduation present from her mom, and the city held warm memories for her. She wondered if that would change after today.

When they pulled up, an anxiety Y/N didn’t know she was holding started building, the sight of the photographers and the screams from the fans barricaded in. With all that had been happening, she had somehow forgotten what going to the premiere meant for her. Her eyes fell to Harry who was staring at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She had never done this before and he knew that.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he said, trying to calm her fears. “Promise.” It helped. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. “Ready?” He stretched out a hand to her and she took it, letting him help her from the car.

The second her feet hit the pavement, the screams got louder. Fans with signs and their phones outstretched on either side of the wide red carpet, the word DUNKIRK in large white letters closest to the entrance to the theater. Harry’s hand gripped her as she stood, thankful for his body to help her keep balanced.

“Just smile as best you can,” he whispered in her ear as the car pulled away behind them. “And if your eyes start hurting from the flashes, just look at me, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and with his hand in hers, fingers entertained, they made their way down the carpet. He stopped a few times to take photos with fans and sign cards, but all that time he never strayed too far from Y/N’s side. With his arm securely wrapped around her waist, they stood for photos, Y/N trying to stand up as straight as she could and smile sweetly. Harry was a pro at this, a smile practiced for years, but she didn’t have the same experience. She was just a regular person who didn’t know which side was her bad side and had her eyes closed in half her photos.

The cameramen screamed questions at them, about their relationship, if they were married. They’d never quite publicly announced their relationship, Harry preferring to keep his private life private, so this was the first time they’d ever even publicly been out as a couple. And for it to be like this…Y/N hated it. She wanted to stand there and be utterly infatuated with Harry like she usually was, but this time her spine was rimrod straight, trying to keep her emotions in check. It was awkward, the way he tentatively touched her body, not wanting to overstep but also wanting to present the aura of normalcy.

Then they took a few steps and rotated to another set of cameras and Y/N understood what Harry had meant about her eyes hurting from the flashes. She turned her head to him and he found her eyes, giving her a wide smile meant just for her. Without thinking about it, her hand pressed to his suit right over his heart, the soft material of his suit jacket butter under her fingers. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, softly and sweetly and to most it wouldn’t have meant much. But to Y/N, it was the first time he had kissed her since she’d seen him. And the feeling of his lips on her skin lingered, a tingle moving through her body. Her hand gripped his back a little tighter and he just kept smiling at her, utterly entranced by her eyes.

Their bodies had betrayed them. To anyone who looked, they would have seen perfectly fine, not that they had been fighting only two hours ago. But they knew the reality, and this moment, their bodies close together and emotions running through them without being able to stop it, it made it clear that neither of them wanted to break up. They would just have to find a way to move through it.

TAGLIST

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 11TH @ NOON CST

#Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

I Know the Sound (Of Your Heart) (Rosnali) - Athena2

Denali works the overnight shift at a diner, and has a crush on the woman who hosts the radio show she listens to every night.

A/N: I've been busy with school and work lately, but I finally finished this and wanted to share it! Please leave feedback if you'd like, I really do love reading your comments. Thank you to Writ for beta-ing!

Title from the Sound by the 1975.

Denali doesn’t hate the night shift at the diner.

It has its slow times and busy times, especially on the weekends. It has its regular customers—the group of college kids that comes every Monday for all-you-can-eat-pancakes, the woman from the local paper who comes in a few nights a week and gets a to-go box of pastries for her coworkers on deadline. It has its good points, like her coworkers and the free slices of cakes and pies the owner lets them take, and its bad points, like the rude customers and weekend rushes.

It’s pretty much a typical nine-to-five--just nine at night until five in the morning.

The night shift isn’t ideal, but it’s easier with her schedule. She gets home a little after five in the morning, collapses into bed, and sleeps until ten or eleven. Then she heads to the ice rink and trains for hours before teaching a few afternoon lessons and going back to the diner. She’s tired, of course, so often it’s just her default state at this point. But the full-time coach at the rink is planning to leave soon, meaning she can pick up his hours and classes, and then she can quit the diner and practice more and get a reasonable amount of sleep. She just needs to tough it out another month or two, and she can do that. She’s been toughing it out on the ice for months, pushing past her bleary eyes and weary limbs to keep her place on the competition team.

She’s in the kitchen tonight, dropping baskets of fries into oil and making grilled cheese for the occasional customer, business mostly a crawl after eleven. But it’s quiet, and she gets to turn the owner’s ancient radio to her favorite station.

“--if you’re just joining us, welcome to the Pink Hour! Not sure why they call it that, because I’m here all night, but whatever, I just work here. I’m Rosé, I hope all you gorgeous listeners out there are having a lovely night.”

Denali leans against the grill and sighs. She found the show months ago, flipping through local radio stations on a drive home after forgetting her AUX cord. The host’s voice had pulled her in, and Denali stayed in the car for five minutes after reaching her apartment’s parking lot just so she could hear the rest of the story Rosé was telling. Within days, that station turned on the second her car roared to life, and she didn’t even bother with the AUX cord if she was driving at night. Not when she could listen to Rosé.

Her voice does something to Denali, makes her calm and happy all at once. It helps that Rosé tells hilarious stories about gigs she’s played and takes callers in between her song picks, playing their suggestions or giving them a listening ear or sharing some advice if they want it. It brings some excitement to an otherwise boring shift, gives Denali something to look forward to. The show runs from nine at night to five in the morning, and Denali likes that they have that in common, that they’re out there doing the same shift, with Rosé’s voice and perfect song selections keeping her company.

“I’m in a dancing mood tonight,” Rosé continues through the speakers. “I’d dance myself, but I’m too damn tired--hopefully they don’t bleep that out--so I’ll let ABBA take over. My parents played them all the time when I was a kid, and this one is my favorite.”

The unmistakable first notes of ‘Dancing Queen’ pour from the speakers, and Denali grins through her exhaustion, letting Rosé get her through the night.

---

“--So I’m standing there on stage, singing and minding my own business, and then a rat, a fu--a freaking rat runs in the bar. I ran for my life and tripped on the amp plug, and that, my lovely little listeners, is how I sprained my ankle last year. I just wish the story was more glamorous.”

Denali’s so lost in the story she accidentally tips an extra chicken tender in the fryer. Whatever, a little midnight snack won’t hurt. She brings the order out to one of two occupied tables, then devours her prize the second she’s out of sight. The radio is playing a Fleetwood Mac song, and Denali sighs as Brooke, the only other person working with her, pops in. They usually work the night shift together because Brooke spends her days training with some ballet company, and though they’re not super close, that combination of exhaustion and dedication has created an understanding between them, and one of them will often pick up the slack when the other is too tired to even stand.

“Contraband?” Brooke asks, nodding to Denali’s chicken-tender-stuffed cheeks. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Denali finishes chewing and nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Still listening to that radio show? Why not just listen to a murder podcast like the rest of us?”

“Some of us aren’t obsessed with true crime, Hytes.” Denali rolls her eyes. “And why would I want to hear about people getting murdered on the way to their cars? I drive a car.”

Brooke snorts. “Fair.”

“I could probably kick their ass, though,” Denali says.

“You could,” Brooke agrees, then sighs. “I better get back out there. Enjoy the radio show.”

“Thanks.”

Denali turns it up a little after Brooke leaves, just in time to catch Rosé’s story about the song. Denali stands still as Rosé explains how she won her middle school talent show singing that song when she was just in sixth grade, how it made her want to sing all the time.

Denali can’t help but imagine Rosé singing, even if she doesn’t actually know what Rosé looks like. It would be easy to find her if she wanted to—the show has an Instagram page, and she would undoubtedly find Rosé there—but Denali likes the mystery of it. Likes keeping Rosé in her mind and behind her radio speakers. It’s ridiculous, probably, how much Denali likes hearing Rosé talk, but every word is so expressive, so passionate, and Denali feels like she’s gotten to know part of Rosé just through her stories, like how she got a guitar for her tenth birthday, or that she likes trying different fancy drinks when she goes to coffee shops, or that she had her first kiss in her car, hiding behind the high school gym--though that story makes Denali oddly jealous. It’s comforting, somehow, to know Rosé is out there, that she and Denali are occupying the same space and time, even if they’ve never met.

As long as Denali can hear her voice, things feel okay.

---

The nights continue, bleeding into days on the ice where the cold doesn’t even wake Denali up anymore because she’s so used to it. She’s tired, so tired she almost falls asleep in someone’s pile of leftover mashed potatoes, but she’s so close. The head coach is leaving in two weeks, and the rink’s manager already said the job is hers. Two more weeks and then she can sleep at night and be a normal level of tired like everyone else.

The song on the radio transitions into the crackling static of a caller connecting. Denali’s thought of calling in to request a song a few times, thinking that it would be like officially talking to Rosé--albeit over the phone--but she always chickens out before she can even type the first number. This is the most ridiculous crush Denali’s ever had, and she definitely has to call it a crush now, given all her fantasies of busting down the radio station’s door to ask Rosé out. She sighs and listens as the caller speaks. It’s a teenage boy, one trying and failing to sound older, telling Rosé about how he came out to his friends today, how they were so happy for him and want to throw a party this weekend. He had been nervous all week, the boy explains, and found Rosé’s show when he was up at night and used it to stay calm.

“Thank you,” Rosé says, and Denali can tell from how her voice is a little thick that she’s really touched. It’s not the first time she’s gotten calls like this, either. “I’m so happy things worked out for you. My friends and family were really supportive when I came out too, and I’m glad you’ll have that support. Be proud and be you, okay?” Rosé clears her throat. “Now, I hate to be that cheesy person--oh, who am I kidding, I love to be that person--but here’s a special song just for you.”

Denali laughs out loud as Diana Ross starts singing about coming out. This whole night, and how kind and genuine and sweet Rosé was, have only made Denali’s crush deepen. Maybe she should find Rosé, message her on Instagram. Denali can’t imagine seeing her in person, hearing that voice and that laugh so close. Finding out all the things about Rosé that she can’t get over the radio.

Maybe one day.

---

Denali’s almost home when she realizes she was so busy thinking about Rosé that she forgot her phone at the diner, and, tired as she is, she’d rather just go get it now than later. She trudges back in the place to hear a laugh--a laugh she knows for some reason, even if it doesn’t belong to any of her coworkers. And then she hears the voice, one excitedly reading out the pecan pancakes on the menu, and follows it to a booth in the corner. It’s coming from a woman with soft pink hair and a huge smile. She’s gorgeous, but it’s the voice that stops Denali in her tracks. Because she absolutely, unmistakably knows that voice. She listens to it every night, its smooth sound and cackling laughs flowing through the scuffed speakers of the radio.

The woman is Rosé.

It simply has to be. Even if Denali’s never seen her, she knows it has to be her. Who else could have that exact voice? Denali’s about to march over to the table when she slams into something, and looks up to see Brooke clutching her order pad in a death grip.

“What are you still doing here?” Denali asks.

“I was on my way out when that table”--Brooke nods to the corner--”came in. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a ridiculously beautiful woman at that table, and I’m gonna wait on her.”

Denali yanks the order pad out of her hand. “I’m waiting on her. Rosé is at that table!”

Brooke stares at her. “No, I think her name is Vanessa.”

Now Denali stares. What if she’s wrong and it’s not Rosé? She risks another glance at the booth and suddenly realizes there are two women there, and her eyes narrow. “Who are you talking about?” she asks Brooke suspiciously.

“The tiny one, with the brown hair.” Brooke crosses her arms. “Who are you talking about?”

“The one with the pink hair and the most amazing smile ever! She hosts that radio show I listen to every night!”

“Oh. Oh,” Brooke repeats, realization dawning on her. “Well, maybe we can both wait--“

“Excuse me,” a rough voice says, and Denali knows from Brooke’s deer-in-headlights-look that it’s the brunette. “Can someone show me where the bathroom is?”

“Brooke can,” Denali says, giving the blonde a gentle push, watching her trail with Vanessa out of sight and almost sprinting to the booth Rosé is now at by herself. She’s even prettier up close, with kind eyes and a perfect smile. Denali can do this. Except now that she’s here, she has no idea what she’s doing. Should she tell Rosé that she knows her? How creepy is it to admit that she recognized her voice?

“Can I help you?” Rosé asks, and hearing her voice close like this makes Denali surer than ever that it’s her. It sounds a little different in person, but it’s definitely her. It snaps her out of her thoughts, and she realizes she’s standing in front of the table in a waitress uniform with her mouth wide open.

“I should be asking you that,” Denali stammers, trying to recover. “Can I get you coffee or anything?”

“Can I get the caramel latte?”

“Of course.”

“My friend wanted coffee too, but I don’t think she’ll need it, considering how long she’s been in that bathroom with your friend.” She flashes a smirk, and Denali’s knees wobble.

“I don’t think she will either.” Denali snorts, but a rush of determination hits her. Things worked out for Brooke, so why can’t they work out for her too? And Rosé coming in here this morning—the morning Denali happens to forget her phone—feels like fate, like someone wanted them to meet. Screw it, Denali thinks. “Hey, uh, you have a show on the radio, right? Please don’t think I’m a creep, it’s just—I listen to it every night when I’m at work.”

“Always nice to meet a fan,” Rosé says. The smirk is still there, but it fades into a real smile. “But yes, I do have a show. I’m glad you like it.”

“I love you,” Denali blurts. “I--I love the show, I mean,” she says, her face on fire. “It’s kept me company at work. You’re really fun to listen to.”

“Thanks.” Denali might be imagining it, but there’s a hint of a blush in Rosé’s cheeks. “You probably know my name, but I’m Rosé.”

“I’m Denali.”

Rosé smiles again. “Denali, I think you’re pretty fun to listen to too. Would you want to go on a date sometime? Then we can listen to each other all night. I gotta warn you, though, I love to talk.”

“I’d love to. I can handle talking, believe me. Actually, you know what--” Denali slides into the other side of the booth, grinning at the excited look on Rosé’s face--”I’m off the clock. What do you say we have a date right now?” By the time she hits the ice she’ll be cursing herself for not sleeping, but she wants to talk to Rosé so bad, wants to spend this morning with her.

Rosé grins. “Absolutely. Do you think someone could get me that latte though?” she asks sheepishly. “I’m so tired.”

“Make that two.” Denali laughs and then flags down one of her coworkers, not wanting to miss a single second.

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #rosé #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #rosnali #background branjie #lesbian au #fluff #athena2 #concrit welcome

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captainsolare · 4 years

Text

Fade - Tenya Iida

Summary: Tenya Iida, your childhood friend, asks you to be in his wedding, not realizing you are in fact, in love with him. His happiness is the most important thing to you, and rather than jeopardize his happiness, you decide to leave, leaving only a letter on the kitchen table.

Warnings: angst angst angst, really only angst

Word count: 1075

A/N: this is based on Phoebe Ryan’s song Fade.

You weren’t sure when you had fallen for him, maybe it was that time he told you not to run, but still helped you when you skinned your knees anyways, or maybe it was when he came to visit you when you were sick; or maybe it was every birthday party he’d attended, every festival you went to together, every waking moment that you spent with him. Regardless, here you were sitting at the kitchen table of your shared apartment, writing him one last letter before you left. Nothing was romantic between you, but you had lived together as roommates, just good friends. Your friends all knew about your feelings though, the only one who seemed to not notice was Tenya himself.

You kept it from him deliberately, you knew admitting your feelings to him would break the facade you had built since childhood; the supportive childhood friend. He had met a girl, nice enough, she made him happy, happier than you ever could and you were happy for him; At least you wanted to be. You had hit your breaking point the other day, Tenya knocked on your bedroom door, looking nervous as he ever had. “What’s wrong?” You had asked, smile on your face, leaning against the door frame. “Will you be my best woman? At my wedding? Will you stand up there with me?” Tenya didn’t understand why your smile faded at the question, but it did. He was about to call you on it, but you forced a big smile on your face and said, “Let me think about it, okay?” Then you changed the subject, and the two of you went out to dinner before he headed off for his night patrol.

You spent that night alone in your bed, body wracked with sobs and some other emotion you couldn’t explain. Some part of you knew that this wouldn’t last forever, you and Tenya, the movie nights and laughter in this apartment; cooking dinner with and for, probably the most important person in the world to you. But the other part, the rational part knew that this day would eventually come, that everything you had held dear for so long, would now belong to someone else. You knew if you told him the truth, it would shock him; You didn’t want to make him lose the happiness that he had found, you didn’t deserve to hold him forever.

Your mind flashed back to your early teen years, you had always been a troublemaker, running headlong into danger without a second thought, feisty tongue and a bad attitude. Tenya was the exact opposite, calm, composed, rational; except for that time he tried to murder someone but, let’s not dwell on the details. Tenya had always been there, to remind you when you were getting out of hand, he made you want to be better. But deep down, you knew your better wouldn’t be enough, you could never be with him; even if that was your only wish in the world. This new girl, the girl he was going to ask to marry him, she made him happy, and so you made a decision. You were going to leave, it would be easier for everyone, you mused; he could get married, and you could move on, though you weren’t sure you’d ever get over a man like him. It’s not that you didn’t love him, you just loved him too much to get in the way.

Part of you wanted to tell him to his face, as you packed up your belongings, but you knew you couldn’t. You wouldn’t be able to bear the expression on his face, when you told him, no, I don’t want to be your damn best woman, I want to be the bride. You quietly entered his room and grabbed an old shirt of his, something of a security blanket for you. You leaned against the door and sank down, hugging your knees. This is best. You penned the letter, tears in your eyes, pouring your heart out onto the paper. The finer points were that you loved him, and that you couldn’t bear to tell him so because his happiness was the only thing that mattered. Just sweep me under the rug, forget about me. When I’m gone, you can pretend you never met me, if that’s what you want I won’t blame you. By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I’ll fade for you Tenya, you understand? If I loved you less, maybe I could stay, but I can’t do that. Thank you for giving me the world, now give it to her, she deserves it. You can burn my letters, my clothes, whatever you need. I’ll make it easy for you to forget me, I’ll disappear. I wish I could be there at your wedding, but I can’t bear it. So I’ll fade, okay? I’ll do it for us.

You sealed the envelope with shaky hands, tears streaming down your face. “This is best, this is best.” You repeated, trying to convince yourself this was indeed the right thing. You turned all the lights out except for the one over the kitchen table, then took one last look at the apartment where many memories were made. You shoved down a sob as you shut the door behind you. You rode the elevator down, silent tears flowing like rivers down your cheeks. You stopped at the front desk, “Going on a trip Miss Y/N?” The receptionist asked with a smile. “Something like that. I won’t be needing this though.” You gave him your apartment key and walked out the door, giving him a sad smile. You hailed a taxi and got inside, taking one last look at this building, this street, this place that you’d never see again. “Where too, miss?” The taxi driver asked, peeking at you in the rearview mirror. “The airport please.” You replied. He nodded and drove off. The street lights intermittently poured through the windows and you took a chance to check your phone. Hmm, he should be home soon. You opened up your messaging app, and opened your messages to him, I love you Iida. You shakily hit send, then turned off your phone. You returned to staring out the window, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Everything okay?” the driver asked. “No, not really.” You replied, giving him a sad smile, “But it will be, someday.”

#tenya iida x reader #angst #sorry this was so angsty #today has been a day #aurora borealis

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natandwandaseries · 3 years

Text

A Nat and Wanda Series Mini Fic: Heart of Gold

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” “Are you kidding me? She is going to love it,” Wanda coaches Steve over the phone, rolling her eyes to Yelena. “I just want to make sure. Tony thinks I should have done a surprise trip to Paris or the Maldives,” “Don’t you get enough surprise vacations?” Wanda sighs, exasperated. “This was your idea.” “I know but,” Yelena gets off her couch, taking the phone from Wanda. “Is too late anyways. If she hate it, she break up with you,” “Do you think she would?” “No. See? Now you feel better.” She smiles, smug. “You be here at five thirty,” Yelena hangs up the phone. “We should probably check on Nat.” “She having existential crisis for sure,” Yelena agrees. They go up to the apartment Nat and Wanda share. To their great surprise, they walk in on Natasha completely calm as she finishes her hair. Her hair has been blown out and styled like it had years ago before Ultron crashed their party. In a far rarer occasion than Natasha doing her hair, she has put on makeup as well. “You okay?” Yelena asks. “Of course,” Nat shakes the can of hairspray. “You aren’t freaking out?” Wanda pipes in, “You are okay?” “Yes,” Natasha fails to keep the amusement out of her voices as she looks at the pair through the mirror. She stands up from her vanity stool and heads to the bedroom, her silk bathrobe just trailing on the ground behind her. They trail behind her, completely mystified by the out of character behavior. “Aren’t you curious what you’re doing tonight? Unless you already know?” “I know we are going to a show and dinner, that’s it.” “It doesn’t bug you?” “I’m choosing to go with the flow,” She answers, slipping into her closet and closing the door. “You feel okay? Someone slip something in food?” “Yelena, I’m fine,” her muffled response comes through the door. She steps out a moment later, wearing a black satin shift dress, pair of heels in hand. As she steps in front of her girls, they get a view of her back, the dress is low cut with crossover pearl straps. Nat goes over to her jewelry dresser and takes out a pair of emerald and pearl earrings with a matching bracelet. “You aren’t freaking out,” Wanda confirms. “I’m content, but I appreciate your concern, both of you.” She kisses Wanda’s head and bumps Yelena’s shoulder, grabbing the clutch off her side table as she walks out of the room, having since slid on the red bottoms. “Please behave tonight. I expect the apartment to be intact when I get back, and no international emergencies caused by either of you.” “I am adult,” “Not really.” She pulls on her green dress coat just as there is a knock at their door. Natasha opens it and Steve is standing in a suit with a bouquet of red roses in hand. “Happy Valentine’s day, Nat.” Natasha’s lips twist into her hidden smile as she places a kiss on his cheek, then takes her thumb to quickly wipe away the lipstick stain. She hands the flowers to Wanda, who happily takes them. The couple leave the apartment and Wanda turns to Yelena. “It is thanks to us that they got together,” “To us? Took until I got here for it to happen. You had years,” She widow scoffs, “I ordering pizza, you want?” Downstairs, Steve gets the door for Nat, and she climbs in without complaint, for once satisfied with being driven. “What was it that you said you first thought when you met me?” “Chivalry wasn’t dead, it was frozen in ice for seventy years,” Natasha laughs, thinking positively of that time in her life for once, with nostalgia rather than resentment. They pull up to the Lincoln Center and walk inside, down to the orchestra seating after purchasing two glasses of champagne. The theater begins to fill up, but no one bothers them. The curtain is drawn, and the show begins. Two and a half hours later, they step into the Russian Tea Room while Natasha nearly gushes about Don Quixote, while simultaneously critiquing a few dancers’ techniques. “Only you could both praise and criticize as the same time,” “I’m a woman of many talents,” She hooks her arm through his. Instead of being led to a table as she expects, they are brought to another room. The Bear Lounge. In the center of the room is a spectacular gilded tree, adorned with lights the resemble large Fabergé eggs, recalling the pair’s first birthday together. There is a large glass bear the seems to be frozen in place while juggling, and mirrors shaped like starbursts reflects off the walls. And on the ceiling is a painting of the cosmos, stars to guide one home. A string quartet plays on the far side of the room and Steve pulls out a chair for Natasha as they sit in the private room, large enough for at least two hundred people, but reserved just for them. “You really outdid yourself, Rogers,” Natasha sighs, taking it all in. “Really?” “It is perfect, I couldn’t have imagined a better night,” She places her hand in his, and rubs her thumb across the heel of his. The soft and intimate motion doesn’t cease until the water comes to take their order. As their meal draws to a close, Steve pulls Natasha from her seat, and she kicks off her heels, her bare feet sinking into the lush carpet. The string quartet begins to play their song, lyrics not needed as the two begin to dance in the under a night sky of their own.

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illmaticreid · 4 years

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We Fell in Love in October - Part 6

DESCRIPTION: Noah is in college studying film and has been a very boring freshman thus far. Her roommate demands that she goes to a party with her and this is where she meets an extremely bold Matthew.

Warnings: language, slight angst, unprotected sex, alcohol, daddy kink, butt stuff hehe, vomit

A/N: I am sorry it took me like two months to write this lol I know no one really cares but I feel bad that it took so long. Also, I am thinking of ending the story. I have no motivation to write and don’t see it going anywhere. Noah & Matthew are too happy to have conflicts lol. I am thinking of writing a sugar daddy story with Matthew/Spencer and then this story will just end :(

Word Count: 3.1k

Today was my birthday. It was the first time I was actually excited for my birthday. Normally, I hated acknowledging that I was getting older. This was the first time I had someone to spend my birthday with, though. I am used to being with friends, but that really isn't the same as spending it with a significant other.

Ellie was planning on taking me to lunch today in between classes, and I just asked Matthew to spend the rest of the day with each other. I didn't want to have a party or be around a bunch of people I don't know very well.

Matthew and I are in a class together today, and we have to go through short scenes with dialogue. I am not sure what I want to do in life or in my career, so acting in front of others scared me. Especially Matthew. I know I am comfortable in front of him, but I am probably just gonna embarrass myself.

The scenes are supposed to be extremely intense, depending on how the actor wants to portray it. Matthew is not my partner, so we won't be doing any scenes together. I haven't decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

A couple pairs had already gone through the scene a couple times in front of the class. The scene was about a couple getting into a fight, and either making up or continuing on with the argument. Most of it was adlib and, the pairs had to figure out how they wanted it to go on their own.

I think my partner had a small crush on me, which made me slightly uncomfortable. I had no idea if he was going to pull something on me during our act. Matthew's partner was this extremely attractive girl who was very serious about acting. I felt a little self-conscious but either way, it was just an assignment.

Matthew was up next, and I felt my palms start to sweat. Their dialogue started off like everyone else's. There was intense arguing that flowed seamlessly. Hopefully, Matthew and I never argued like that. I think I would burst out in tears.

As their argument became quieter, I realized they had decided to make up. Matthew's partner got close to his face, and their dialogue became almost too quiet for the class to hear.

She suddenly leaned up and kissed him softly. I almost got out of my seat and screamed. Kissing? No one said shit about kissing. No one else in our class had decided to kiss their partner on the mouth. What the fuck was he thinking? He pulled away from her rather quickly and went back to his seat.

My face heated up in anger as I gave him daggers from across the room. He refused to make eye contact with me. Okay, Matthew, two can play at that game.

When it was my turn to do the scene, my partner was being exceptionally weird. Maybe I was being weird because I was taking my real-life anger out on him. Our scene was supposed to end with a hug but, at the last minute, I told him to kiss me. It was actually me kissing him, but it didn't really matter.

I pulled him in by his shirt and placed my mouth on his in a heated kiss. The kiss was not heated at all, though. In fact, it was gross and slimy. Putting my lips on anybody's but Matthew's was enough to make me gag. I walked off the front of the stage and left class altogether. I probably failed this ridiculous assignment but, I didn't care.

I heard footsteps behind me as I walked to my car. I was praying it wasn't my partner. I was also slightly praying that it wasn't Matthew.

"Noah, wait!"

I rolled my eyes when I heard the familiar sound of Matthew's voice.

"What was that?" He said once he finally caught up to me.

"What?"

"You kissed your partner, gagged, and then left the classroom," Matthew spoke. I couldn't tell if he wanted to laugh or be pissed off at me. Probably a little bit of both.

"Oh? You're allowed to kiss your partner, and I am not?" I asked without a hint of humor in my voice. I didn't know if it was ridiculous to be upset, but I just wasn't expecting my boyfriend to kiss another girl today.

"Noah, whoa, whoa, whoa," Matthew chuckled before continuing. What was so funny? "I didn't kiss another girl, it was an assignment that we had to do for an acting class. Also, she kissed me. Should I be mad at you for kissing your partner? Clearly, it was only to try and get back at me."

My shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew me all too well, and now I looked like an idiot.

"I don't think it was appropriate to kiss her, Matthew."

"I don't think it was appropriate to kiss him, and then gag about it," Matthew laughed again. It was hard to stay mad at him when all he kept doing was laughing at what just happened.

I had to admit, I am acting ridiculous. Why did they have to kiss, though? The thought alone made my blood boil.

"I didn't mean to gag, he was just a bad kisser. I am mad that you let her even get that close to you," I spoke angrily.

"Oh, Noah. You are adorable," Matthew chuckled again. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, trying my best to seem angrier than I actually was.

"Take me seriously!"

"I can't, the argument is laughable. I don't want to actually kiss that girl. I don't even know her name. You should know that you're the only girl I love," He said sweetly.

I tried to be more upset, but I couldn't. He made me swoon.

When I didn't say anything, Matthew continued. "Don't ever forget how much you mean to me. You're so special. Also, my dick is literally so hard right now. You are so hot when you are angry."

My face got very hot very quickly as I looked down at his pants and saw his jeans starting to bulge.

"Would you like me to fix that for you?" I asked, innocently.

Matthew moaned quietly as I palmed his pants. I had to remember that we were in the middle of a hallway and anyone could walk out of class and catch us.

"I have a little surprise for you if you want to come back to my place," Matthew said with a smirk.

"I said no presents!"

"I know, but this is a present for both of us."

I agreed so, we walked to his car and drove to Matthew's apartment. When we got inside, he handed me a long but thin box that felt light.

"If this is jewelry or anything expensive, I won't accept it," I spoke firmly. I really hated getting gifts. If it was something small, or something I really needed then, I would be okay with it.

"Just open it, Noah," Matthew laughed. I sighed before opening the box that revealed tissue paper. I pulled back the tissue paper and found fuzzy pink handcuffs.

"You kinky little bitch," I squealed at Matthew before taking them out of the box. He let out a loud laugh and wouldn't stop smiling at me. They were adorable. The pink fuzz was more of a feather-like material. I am assuming that he bought these ones in particular so that they would be a little more gentle on me.

"Would you like to use them?" Matthew said sinisterly. The smile was ripped off of my face within seconds. Yes, I thought they were cute and funny. I had forgotten that they would actually have to get used. Which meant that I would have to be completely submissive to Matthew.

"Now?" I asked, my mouth agape.

I received a nod from Matthew as he took the handcuffs out of my hands and threw me over his shoulder. We entered his bedroom and Matthew kicked the door shut with his foot before throwing me onto the bed. He started to take his clothes off, never breaking eye contact with me.

Matthew only had his underwear on as he walked over to me and placed his hand underneath my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.

"I can't wait to see how pretty you look with these little pink handcuffs on," Matthew spoke just above a whisper. God, he was so fucking hot. I started undressing, not being able to take the waiting anymore.

I laid on Matthew's bed, completely naked, waiting for him to make the first move. He flipped me over onto my back, grabbed both of my hands with one of his, and pinned me down. He grabbed the handcuffs and put them on me tightly. I winced at the pain but he knew how much I really liked it.

"Are you ready for the best birthday sex you've ever had, Noah?"

"Do your worst," I said as I lifted my hips up into the air.

No other words were spoken as he slipped his dick into me. I yelped loudly, and Matthew just chuckled at me. It hurt, but it also felt amazing at the same time.

Matthew continued to pound into mercilessly as I laid there, screaming and moaning. I started moving my hips back up against him, and Matthew stopped moving and let me do my thing.

"Fuck," I moaned, getting tired from all of the work I was putting in. My hips began to slow down and eventually, they came to a stop. Matthew apparently did not like that.

"Did I say that you could stop?"

"I'm sorry," I panted.

Matthew grabbed my hair and wrapped it around his hand in a fist. I moaned at the pain coming from my scalp. He rammed his hips into me quickly with as much force as he could.

"You feel so good, Matthew," I whispered into the bedsheets.

"Yeah? You like that? Tell me more."

I felt my face get red as I told him how much I liked it. How much I liked his dick absolutely obliterating me. I could feel the heat begin to grow in my stomach and I knew I was close. It felt like I was starting to see stars.

I felt Matthew's hand rest on my ass, and his thumb slowly started to drift somewhere that I wasn't quite sure I was comfortable with. I wasn't stopping him, though. I let his thumb travel dangerously close to my 'backdoor' before realizing what he was up to.

Matthew's thumb slipped inside of me and before I could scream at him to get out, I came. I was completely ashamed that he made me orgasm by sticking his finger in my ass, but also couldn't even focus because of how amazing it felt.

Seconds into my orgasm, Matthew pulled out of me and came onto my back. He was groaning and hissing, and it was music to my ears.

After he wiped me down, I figured now would be the best time to ask what the fuck just happened.

"First, uncuff me. Second, why did you put your thumb in my ass?" I all but screamed.

Matthew chuckled before saying, "I don't know. It was just there and I wanted to see what happened. You clearly liked it though." He had a stupid shit-eating grin on his face.

"Fuck you! You didn't even ask if that was okay with me."

"I know. I'm sorry, but now I know you are into butt stuff," He giggled.

"I am not into butt stuff. You are! It was your idea," I said while trying to hold back my own giggles and a little bit of embarrassment that I was indeed, into butt stuff.

"You came in less than half a second. I think it's safe to say that you liked it."

"Fine, maybe a little."

That was where we left off our conversation. Later in the day, I had lunch with Ellie and then I was going to spend the rest of the night with Matthew. I finished the rest of my classes and went home. I finished up some homework and got ready for the night.

Matthew picked me up right on time, and we drove back to his place. He opened the door to his apartment for me, and let me walk in first.

"Surprise!!" I heard from around the room. My face got red, but I smiled at everyone anyways. I was going to kill who's ever idea this was.

"Hi!" I waved at everyone, awkwardly. There were only around ten people here, which was okay. Thankfully it wasn't some huge party that would just make me feel awkward and uncomfortable all night long. I could handle a couple people but, any more than that, and I would have turned around and walked home.

"Whose idea was this? Hm? I want answers," I said as soon as I walked over to Ellie. I was trying to be fake angry but the smile on my face kinda blew my cover.

"Well, it was mine and Matthew's. He said no at first because he said you would hate it. But, I knew that you would secretly like it as long as you were able to get a little drunk," Ellie giggled.

"Okay fine. You caught me. I do like the attention just a little bit," I laughed with her. I was thankful that I had people in my life that cared about me this much.

As soon as Ellie mentioned getting drunk, I immediately started taking shots and making myself mixed drinks. I kept urging Matthew to drink but he was trying to stay at least a little bit sober to keep an eye on me.

"No, Noah, I don't want another shot. Thank you very much, though," Matthew said as he smiled at me. I giggled at him while taking a shot for him instead. I could feel the liquor coursing through my veins and I was probably acting a little silly. It's my birthday and I can be drunk if I want to!

I sipped on my Vodka Cranberry as some friends and I sat around Matthew's coffee table and played drunk Uno. I wasn't exactly sure how to play, I just liked regular Uno and I would just take a shot every time someone told me to.

"Baby, you have like twenty cards. You're gonna get alcohol poisoning at this rate," Matthew laughed at me. He wasn't playing, he just sat next to me and was trying to be my teammate because clearly, I was out of it.

"Don't worry, I have a trick up my sleeve," I said but I had no trick. I knew I was screwed. Eventually, someone called Uno, and on their next turn, they went out and won the game.

"Finally! That was the longest game of Uno I have ever played, and now I am completely shit faced," I sighed.

"Do you want to go lay down?" Matthew asked me.

"No, I'm fine. What are you, my dad?" I spoke back to him and giggled as soon as the words left my lips because I knew exactly how Matthew would take that.

"Keep giving me attitude and I will take you back to my room and punish you," Matthew spoke lowly. I thanked God that everyone left the couch as soon as the game was over, so we were out of earshot of everyone.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna punish me, daddy?" I said through more giggles. I was so turned on by what he said and I couldn't miss out on a chance to be a brat.

Matthew was just about to follow through on his promise when I felt a hiccup in my stomach.

"Uh Oh," Matthew said as soon as he saw the look on my face.

He rushed me to the bathroom quickly and I ran to the toilet. As soon as I started throwing up, Matthew grabbed my hair hurriedly. He kept it out of my face as I continued to blow chunks.

"You're lucky I love you, Noah because you are such a fucking lightweight," He said through laughs.

I started to laugh with him but instead, I just vomited again. For some reason, I was not embarrassed at all. I mean, Matthew had his finger in my ass earlier, I think he can handle seeing me throw up.

When my stomach was finally finished wreaking havoc on my birthday, Matthew helped me clean my self up. I brushed my teeth with him and cleaned my face, making sure I looked presentable.

"Let's get you to bed, sweet girl," Matthew said as he started to undress me in his bedroom. He grabbed me some clothes and was about to put them on me.

"No, I don't wanna wear clothes. I wanna be punished!" I whined, thinking about our conversation from earlier.

"You are too drunk. Don't worry, you have a lifetime to get punished by me."

"You want to spend a lifetime with me?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes. I always got a little emotional when I was drunk.

"Well, duh. I wouldn't want to hold back anyone else's hair as they puke into a toilet anyways," Matthew said trying to make a joke out of the situation so I wouldn't cry.

"I wouldn't want anyone to hold back my hair either," I spoke as a tear streamed down my cheek.

"I know. Get into bed, I will tell everyone you aren't feeling well and to head out."

Matthew walked out of the door and I could hear him telling everyone that it was time to go.

"Oh no! Can I say goodbye to her?" I heard Ellie ask, and Matthew told her that she could. I heard the door open up and smiled when I saw Ellie's face.

"Hi," I said weakly.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I hope you had a good birthday party!" Ellie smiled at me.

"I did, you're such a sweet friend," I slurred.

"Good. Have a good night, Noah. No more throwing up," She laughed as she kissed me on the forehead and left.

Minutes later, Matthew came back in and took off his clothes and snuggled into bed with me.

"I got you some water," Matthew handed me a big glass of water that I gladly took. I chugged the whole thing, and I could hear Matthew saying, "slow down!" but that didn't stop me.

"Thank you," I whispered as I started to doze off in his arms.

"Happy birthday, Noah," I heard Matthew say as I drifted off to sleep.

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