#incessantly muttering to myself over the last two weeks 'I Can Fix Her'

[demi-pixellated]

a redesign: to sate my personal sensibilities

#Legend of Zelda #LoZ #Tears of the Kingdom #TotK #totk spoilers #Yona #Fanart #MSPaint Draw #mostly-- i pulled it into sai for colours but yeah #incessantly muttering to myself over the last two weeks 'I Can Fix Her' #i don't have any strong feelings to her as a character but as a design.... #i enjoy the choice to make her a manta ray but I DESPERATELY wish they gave her a flatter head #-- not entirely like Muzu but closer to it #and also I'm severely allergic to saturated colours and she is unlookable #feel free to disagree and disregard this - it's a thought experiment #but Saki is next 😤

[iwantitiwriteit]

Slow Burn: Act I - Part 5

The Lip Sync Battle 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: Growing tensions between you and Chris overflow in the most musical of battles.

Warnings: Profanity, drunken silliness

Notes: Oh my fucking gosh, I fucking finished it! This part was a BEAST to write! It’s hella long so it’ll be in two posts. Before you dive in, set the mood with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Read the previous part here.

“How about this one?”

“No, not neon enough!”

“Ok…” you hold up another top option, “this one?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Alright. This?“

“Uh—”

“Uggggghhhhh!!!” It’s been 45 minutes of trying to decide on an outfit and your patience is running thin. “I’m this close,” you put up a microscopic amount of space between your pointer finger and thumb, “THIS CLOSE to leaving in my pajamas. Don’t think I won’t do it!”

Your older sister, Lynn, laughs at your dramatics from her spot on the end of your bed in her guestroom. “Oooo won’t the paps love that! I just want to make sure you slay tonight! You never know what Hottie McDotties might be in there…”

You scoff, “I’m trying to be low key tonight and not draw any attention to myself. Tonight is not about me.” You look over to your sister who is distractedly sorting through the pile of clothes that’s accumulated on the bed. “Do you hear me?” 

“I hear what you're saying… I just don’t care. Now c’mon, let’s find you something sexy! I know we’re close!” You and Lynn turn back to your almost empty closet one last time. “What about that furry, hot pink thing?”

“Oh, you mean the jacket I impulse bought with the birthday boy?” You laugh thinking back to that day. It was the day you first met Scott before filming. We were only supposed to go out for lunch, and damn near bought out the whole plaza!

“Yeah, that one! That could be cute.”

“With my black, skin tight leather pants…”

“Your black, sheer and lacy corset top…”

“And the black knee highs to top it off!” You two say simultaneously making you giggle like school girls. You settle into a comfortable silence as you pull out the pieces of your outfit.

“I missed this— these moments with you, big sis. Laughing, being silly— “

“Talking about boys,” she finishes for you. You roll your eyes, but smile in agreement as Lynn continues. “Me too… god, why’d we both have to be successful?” she says mockingly, making you both laugh again. 

“Honestly, the real question is why'd you have to move to Boston?” You asked a lot less like an inquiring adult and more like a pouting toddler. 

It’s Lynn’s turn to roll her eyes as she sighs deeply. “You sound like dad.”  

“You’ve got some nerve,” she starts in a playful tone. “You’re literally the one who is never in one city for more than a day. You being here for these months is unprecedented.” It’s true; your touring schedule made it where you’d been any- and everywhere, except with family as of late.

“Now who sounds like dad.” 

“Sorry, but you opened yourself up for it!”

You huff out a sigh, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Lynn hopped up from the bed and headed for the door, “Uh-huh. I’m gonna warm up the car. Be down in 20.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“I wasn’t asking. I was instructing.”

“And I oop— she said she’s being a big sister tonight!” you laughed out as you turned around to start getting dressed, hair and makeup already done. Lynn began to leave the room, rolling her eyes at you not taking her seriously. 

Suddenly, you were met with a pillow to the back of your head. “What the hell!” The sound of your sister running down the hall and laughing maniacally fill the house. “Hey! Not the curls!” you yelled after her, closing the door.

Just then your phone vibrated with a FaceTime call. You went over to it on the dresser and tapped the screen to answer, the view fixed on the ceiling. The screen filled with a visibly excited Scott, his face a little red from excitement, face a little sweaty from dancing. There was music and loud chatter on his end. Shit! He’s already there! I’m late! “Heeelllooooo? Anybody there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you peek one eye into the frame, “I’m getting dressed. What’s up?”

“What’s up is that everybody is here, and you are not,” he tapped his camera for emphasis. 

“I’ll be there soon. Beauty takes time, ya know!” Each sarcastic word accented with a huff and jump to get in your tight pants. “Whew!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott’s eyes peered with genuine curiosity as he sipped a fruity drink.

“I already told you I’m getting dressed.”

“It takes all of that?”

“Listen, as the great philosopher Beyoncé once said, ‘if you don't jump to put jeans on, baby, you don't feel my pain!’ Ok?”

Scott laughed, “OK, yes ma’am!”

“So… who all is there?” Scott knows just what you're asking; if Chris is there. 

Chosing to play dumb and not give you defenitive answer, Scott asks. “Is there anybody in particular you’re looking forward to seeing?”

“More like who I’m not looking forward to seeing…” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” You said for a quick cover, Scott giving you a knowing look. “You know I’m looking forward to seeing your ‘Ma’; I love that y’all call her that. It’s so New England!”

Scott chuckles, “She’s looking forward to seeing you too. She calls you her ‘lovely lunch buddy’.” Being close with Scott on set meant that you’d gotten to meet his mom. She’d taken a liking to you after joining you and Scott for lunch one day, and started joining you as often as she could.  

“Awwww, she’s too sweet! I’m gonna let you go now; I gotta finish getting cute for her.”

“Only her?” Scott said with a smirk. Please… Chris could kiss my a—

“Only her. I’ll see you later Scott, and happy birthday for the gazillionth time!”

“Thanks love, see you later!”

With one last fluff of your fro, pop of your lipstick, and once over in the mirror, and you felt ready. Collecting your phone and bag, you headed out for the night.

——————————————————————————

“Sooo....” Lynn turned the down the music as she drove. “How do you feel about possibly seeing you-know-who tonight?” The eyeroll and groan that escaped you were almost involuntary. “What?! It wouldn’t be far fetched; it IS his brother’s birthday.”

“I know, but… do we have to talk about him? I just wanna have a good time tonight,” you whined, throwing your head back on your seat.

“You already know the answer to that.” You let out a long sigh. You hadn’t seen Chris since your game night tell-off a few weeks back, and as much as you tried to forget about him and how you lost your cool, not talking about it was starting to gnaw at you, especially knowing it was only a matter of time before you saw him again. “So, how are we feeling?”

“I…” you took a breath, “I can’t help but feel annoyed! Like, sure I ignored his apology attempts, but he’s the one that passed unfounded judgments on ME. How the hell does that make me a diva? God I hate that word! You know how that word just triggers me,” Lynn nods in response, letting you continue. “And you know what's the most annoying part of it all?”

‘What?”

“Mackie and Scott talk about him incessantly. How smart he is, how caring he is, how fun he is. I mean, I saw it, when we met in New York. But I haven't seen it since. We’re their friends, so I get what they're trying to do, but at some point, like, give it up. It’s obviously not working, nor will it ever.” You let out a sound of frustration, “I don’t know what to do. Do I keep it to myself for the sake of our mutual friendships, or—”

“Be the diva he thinks you are?” You know Lynn is joking, but that’s not a bad idea… I mean, he already thinks it of me, might as well have some fun with it…  Lynn looks over to see you mischievously smiling into the Boston night and she begins to fear for the idea she’s just given you. “Oh God,” she mutters.

You look at her with a goofy grin and shrug. “What?” you try to say innocently.

“C’mon! Don’t actually consider that! Look, you weren’t expecting to see him last time, and that’s probably why it didn’t go so well. But now that you are, you can show up as the composed, level-headed woman I know is somewhere in that thick, thick skull of yours.” You give her no indication that you’ll heed her advice and she can tell. “Fine, just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she half laughs out.

The car comes to a stop in front of the venue and you check the time. 30 minutes after the invitation time, not TOO bad. You arrived at Majesty’s, a unique, swanky lounge in a trendy area of Boston you’ve never been before. I’ll have to come back and explore sometime. You lean over to give your sister a quick hug, thanking her for dropping you off, then briskly make for the curbside entrance, needing to escape the nippy Boston air. 

Once inside, you’re warmed by neon lights that illuminate the otherwise dim room. To your right is a full-service bar with a plethora of drink options on the wall behind it. Tables staggered up the middle of the room lead to a medium sized dancefloor just before a stage. Velvet curtains hang at the back wall behind a neon sign of the venue's logo. The place is packed. It is Saturday night after all. Music and conversation buzz around you as you scan the room looking for your friends.

“Hi there!” a cheery hostess approaches, her face beat to the gods, making you wish you’d opted for more makeup yourself. “Here with Scott Evans’ party?”

“Yeah! How’d you know?” She gives you a weird look, as if to say, ‘you're joking, right?’. It dawns on you that she knows who you are, hence why she knows who you’re here to see.

“Right…” It’ll be awhile before I get used to people recognizing me.

“HeeeEEeey!! There she is!” You hear Mackie’s voice but aren’t sure where it’s coming from. The hostess points up to a balcony where Mackie is hanging over the railing, flailing his arms to get your attention. 

The hostess escorts you to your party, leading you through the tables on the main floor. The walk there is spent with her talking about how “tonight is like the Oscars” because she’s “never seen so many big stars in one place” but she assures you she “isn’t a creepy fan” and that there’s a no recording policy for guests’ privacy. You smile and nod politely, but you’re not fully listening to her. You’re too in your head wondering if one of those “big stars” is Chris. You’re led up a staircase near the dancefloor that takes you to a roped off VIP balcony area where you can overlook the entire venue.

You give hello’s to the people in the section; some you know from set, but most are Scott’s longtime friends you’ve never met. Feeling a bit shy, you look for a familiar face when Mackie pulls you into a bear hug. “How ya doing, Kid? I’m glad you came out tonight!” You could be reading too far into it, but it feels like he means ‘glad you came despite the possibility Chris will be here.’ You suppress your urge to give a look of disdain and just smile and avert your gaze around the section. You notice that Chris isn’t there, or at least not yet, and you’re not sure if that makes you uneasy or not. Relax girl.

You still haven’t decided on what your disposition towards Chris will be tonight, but needed to choose quickly to get in the right headspace. Before you could process what was happening, you were whisked up into a hug by Lisa. Shit. I can’t be salty to him with his mother here. She’s so sweet. Ugh, guess it’s decided.

“How’s my lovely lunch buddy doing?” she asks with a genuine smile and kind eyes. 

You chuckle at the title she’s given you. “I’m doing great! How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here! Now we can get this party started!” She does a “raise the roof” motion with her hands as she bobs her head causing you to raise your brows. It would be a sure way to embarrass her children, but just makes you laugh. “I should stop before the birthday boy kicks me out,” she laughs out.

“Where is Scott by the way?”

“Oh, he should be around here somewhere...” she scans the section, squinting her eyes with her index finger tapping her upper lip. “There he is!” she points to a corner on the other side. You follow her finger to see a glittery Scott, adorned in a birthday hat and sash. He’s in conversation with a brown-haired woman, the pair laughing and slapping their knees.

As you approach, you notice someone else on the velvet cushion with them, but not at all in the conversation. Sat next to them is Chris, eyes fixed on you, expression blank. It was a matter of time. You tense up, clenching your jaw and holding his gaze.

When you reach them, you embrace Scott. “You look great!” he compliments your outfit and you give a couple poses to show it off.

“Thanks, it’s just a lil somethin’, somethin’ I threw together! Remember this jacket?”

“Yeah! You blew, what? Like, eight hun—”

“Shhh…” you stop him before he could blow up your spot, “Let’s not talk about it. Not the best show of my judgement.” Everyone laughs, except Chris who just scoffs and shakes his head unamused, making your laughter dissipate. 

“We all have those moments of weakness. Hi, I’m Shanna,” she greets with a handshake.

“Yes, she is my youngest, and this is my other son Chris. Chris honey, this is—“

“We’ve met, Ma,” he offers a fake but polite smile, one you just know he wouldn’t have if his mother wasn’t right there.

“Oh, really? When?” There’s a beat of silence that’s only uncomfortable for you and Chris as you both go through your brief, sordid history silently.

“At an industry thing not too long ago,” you offer, not meeting Chris’ eyes.

“Of course, I often forget that that world is even smaller than the real world,” Lisa chuckles. “I hope he was on his best behavior!” Chris looks up at you in panic, a look that says you wouldn’t rat me out to my mom, would you? You know she’s only joking, but the opportunity is too good to pass up on.

“Well, actually,’ you turn to Lisa as she looks at you quizzically, “He’s quite the rascal on the dancefloor; get a couple of Stella’s in him, could out dance the Rockettes!” the group laughs heartily, clearly knowing the truth of your words. Chris laughs nervously but is slightly relieved you didn’t reveal the truth of his behavior towards you since you two met. “But he’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman,” you say, looking at Chris with a facetious smile. He’s clenching his teeth into a pained smile himself.

“Really?” Scott says, ready to call you on your BS, “‘cos game night was kinda… intense. Or am I remembering it wrong?”

“Well, a little trash talk never hurt anybody,” Chris states while sipping his drink. And just like that, a silent pact was made between the two of you; to be cordial for the sake of all involved. Maybe there’s no need for the diva disposition after all…

“Right…” Scott is unconvinced, but is too in party mode to press on. Turning to you now, Scott asks, “How’s the soundtrack stuff coming along?”

“So great! I actually just got the final mix for the song I did with Miguel in New York, and I gotta say, it smells like a hit!”

“Oooo! And I bet it is! You’re literally a hit machine, am I right?” Shanna hits Chris’ arm seeking endorsement from him. He just raises his brows and shrugs as if to say, ‘yeah, sure, whatever’.

Scott isn’t amused by his brother’s disinterest. “Oh, don’t act so unimpressed! She’s literally an award-winning artist! Just the other day, you were literally—”

“Ok, Scott, that’s.... sheesh,” Chris interrupts what sounds like would’ve been a great story. “It’s not that, just that I don’t believe in creating to get awards; I believe you should create for the love of it.”

“I agree,” you chime in. “Even though I put my art out into the world for consumption, it doesn’t make or break me if others applaud it or not. What’s most important is that I do.”

“But you gotta admit it feels good,” Shanna taunts with a grin.

“Sure... but, I don't know… I love what I do so much, I'd do it even  if no one gave a damn. Hell, I have for years! Only recently the recognition started rolling in. And, not to sound self-loathing or anything, but it’s been… a challenge dealing with it all. I kinda miss the days when nobody knew my name.”

Lisa nudges Chris with her elbow, “She sounds like you.” He was thinking the same thing. “How’s filming going? You guys are on Harvard campus, right?”

“Mostly, yeah. It’s kinda funny being back at a college. I kinda forgot what it was like, but memories of those years have just been flooding back.”

“All those fond memories of studying coming back to ya, huh?” Chris digs. Walked into that one. 

Before you could form a petty rebuttal, Mackie called Chris over. Soon after, Shanna and Lisa excuse themselves, leaving you and Scott in the corner. 

Scott checked his phone for the time, “Ooo it’s almost time for my performance!”

“Performance?”

“Yeah there’s lip syncing!”

“Lip syncing? Not karaoke?”

“I asked that too. Apparently the owner was tired of hearing drunk people screech and butcher songs.”

“Understandable. What are you gonna perform?”

“I’m thinking ‘Birthday’ by Selena Gomez, but then there’s also ‘Birthday’ by Katy Perry, so I’m torn.”

“Both great choices! And I’m fully prepared to join you for either, do a little back up, whatever you need.”

“Uh-uh, nope.”

“Whaa— why not?” you put your hands on your hips.

“Because you’re a professional performer. You will get up there and literally intimidate anyone else from giving it a try and having some fun.” A pout was all you could muster as a response. “Oh don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true. Take a backseat tonight, ok?”

“Fine, whatever.” It wasn’t fine, but you did want to keep a low profile tonight. Performing would be the exact opposite of that.

“Thanks, love!” Scott gave you a hug, which you didn’t reciprocate out of feigned annoyance. “So, what the hell was that? With you and Chris?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, hoping he’d drop it.

“Well, I know that you two had some... words, and you’re not super fond of him even though you won’t say it out loud, and—” he paused to collect his confusion. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. Tonight isn’t about you two acting hella weird towards each other. Tonight is about my favorite people coming together and enjoying being around each other. Even if they’re faking it.”

“Yes, exactly!” relieved you don’t have to talk about it any further.

“Wanna know something?” You slightly raise your brows. “The other day, I caught Chris not just listening, but dancing to your music. I mean full on rocking out to it!” Scott laughs.

Your face heats up at the thought, but you play it off like you don’t care. “So?”

“So, you’ve obviously been on his mind. And if I know my brother, I think he wants to make things right but doesn’t know how. He may just be nervous.” You just sigh and look over to Chris and Mackie across the way, roughhousing one another and laughing. If he was nervous, it’s not like you made it any easier with your actions toward him. “He’s a good man. Silly, and sometimes stupid, but good nonetheless.” Maybe we did just get off on the wrong foot…

Some of Scott’s other friends pull him into conversation, and you make your way to the bar to get some libations to sort out your thoughts.

——————————————————————————

“And that’s when I said ‘Sis, what are you doing?’” The group crowded around drinks laughed at Jaden’s story from set, something about how you got stuck under some bleachers or something. Chris wasn’t listening. He’d long tuned out the cringey storyteller. Instead, his attention was with where you were with his mother across the way, deep in conversation. 

You sat with your legs crossed, hands moving around animatedly. Chris looks you up from the heels of your knee highs, to your shiny leather clad thighs, your lacy corset that leaves just enough to the imagination and shows off your collar bone, any man’s subconscious weakness. Goddamn.

“Careful of those wandering eyes,” Chris turned to see Mackie handing him one of the two beers in his hands.

“I don’t remember asking for this.”

“It’s to quench your obvious thirst.” Mackie motions his head in the direction Chris had been staring for the past 15 minutes; in your direction.

Chris rolls his eyes. “I’m not ‘thirsting’ over her,” he takes a sip of the drink, “and I think you’ve been hanging out with those kids on set a little too much.”

“Maybe,” Mackie chuckles, taking a sip himself, “but you know I’m not wrong.”

“She’s not even my type.”

“‘Your type?’ Since when do you have a type?”

“I have a type,” Chris tries to defend himself. “Kind, humorous, humble…”

“She’s literally all of those things!” Chris just offers him a side-eye in response. “Look, I don’t know what happened between New York and now—”

“Cos nothing really happened! So what, we had a good time when we hung out once. Means nothing. Not to me, and obviously not to her.”

“You couldn’t be further from the truth my man.” Chris looks from Mackie to you. “She’ll surprise you if you let her.” I hoped she would.

——————————————————————————

“Ladies and gentleman!” A loud voice, booms from the PA system, commanding everyone’s attention. You, Lisa, and everyone in your section approach the railing to look down to the stage where a spotlight had been cast on the speaker. “Here at Majesty’s, we don’t karaoke. We don’t want to hear you drunk motherfuckers screech!” The crowd erupts in laughter, but you look over to Lisa to see if the language offended her. She doesn’t seem to mind as she’s laughing along with ever else.

“At Majesty’s,” the speaker walks around dramatically motioning their hands like a magician's assistant, “We perform, we put on a show, we lip sync like you’ve never seen before!” There’s a chorus of claps, cheers, and ‘yass queen’s. 

“We have a special birthday performance by the birthday boy himself! Everybody give it up for Scott Evans!!!” Your section filled with Scott’s friends and family go crazy cheering him on. I wonder what song he decided on. 

Come and put cha name on it, put cha name on it

Come and put cha name on it, ya name

Don't chu wanna put ya name on it, put cha name on it

Come and put cha name on it, bay-bay-bay-bay-uh

“Oh my goodness! He would!” Scott surprised everyone with ‘Birthday Cake’ by Rihanna, and you have to say, he did it justice. Ansel and Jaden are his back up, twerking and being silly hype men. You look around to see everyone in hysterics and cheering, enjoying the clownery and having a good time. 

In your scan of the section, you notice Chris standing beside you. You admire his profile; the way his eyes scrunch up when he smiles genuinely, the lucious length of his lashes, the sharp angle of his nose, the slack of his jaw when he brings his beer to his plump lips. Before he poured the liquid in his mouth, he looked at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth quirking up around the neck of the bottle. You whip your head back to the stage below, kicking yourself for getting caught. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, but his cheeks take on a slight rosy hue.

When Scott’s performance is over, everyone cheers and claps for the guest of honor, who takes his center stage bow and makes his way back to the section.

You and Chris look at one another, both of you mid smile, gazing at each other. Your smiles fade and you clear your throat, readying yourself to speak, although unsure of what to say.

“That was...”

“Yeah, it was…”

“Cool…”

“Entertaining even…”

“Uh huh.”

“Yep.”

You both stand there awkwardly. You’re looking everywhere but at Chris, while Chris is rocking back and forth on his heels, swinging his hands in front then behind himself.

“What a riveting conversation we’re having,” you joke, hoping to loosen up the tension.

It seems to work because Chris breathes out a light laugh before testing some humor himself. “Going better than our last conversation, that’s for sure.” He peeks at your expression tentatively to see if the joke landed, and it seems so by the small smile you offer him.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” is all you could think to say. A lull enters your exchange again, but this time it feels a little less rigid, but still not comfortable or cozy. You both have the same idea to interrupt the quiet with a start of a sentence, then share a laugh for simultaneously speaking.

“Ladies first,” he says.

“No, you can. I don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Well, if we were thinking the same thing, you were probably gonna start with ‘I’m sorry…’,” he punctuated with a smile. 

You, however, are not smiling. Your face is contorted in complete confusion. “What exactly should I be apologizing for?”

Now Chris is confused. Your face and your tone say that you are serious. He’s searching your face for any sign of humor, and when he doesn’t find any, says, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe for acting all high and mighty like you’re too good for a peace offering?”

“There wouldn’t need to be a peace offering if you weren’t judgemental in the first place!”

“Maybe, but my judgments weren’t wrong. You parade around like you’re queen of everything!” You glare at him as he continues his tangent.  “‘OOooooOoO look at me, I’ve won a bunch of statues for my poppy-pop songs and spend my money on fufu jackets, but also don’t look at me cos I’m kinda awkward and might turn to putty at any given second.’” He mocks you in a high pitched, “woman” voice. 

You scoff at his foolery and to feel enraged by his stupidly silly drunken display. “First of all, I do not talk like that!”

“Yeah, ok.”

“And secondly, I’m not about to apologize for being proud of my accomplishments that I worked really fucking hard to achieve. I’m not afraid to clap for my damn self. We can’t all be overly-humble and self deprecating and blessed with the ability to be great with everybody. I refuse to shrink myself for anyone any longer!”

‘Any longer’? What’s she mean by that? Chris’ expression softens, as does yours. You’ve realized that you've once again been brought out your box, by a practical stranger no less. The two of you share similar expressions; anger tinged with a bit of hurt. Before either of you could say anything else, not that either of you wanted to, a commotion coming toward the two of you takes your attention away from the heated moment.

Scott is making his rounds through the section, receiving celebratory high fives, kisses, and smacks on the ass. “That was incredible dear!” Lisa punctuated with kisses all over her his face, causing you to laugh at the affection she showed her grown son.

“Ok, ok, thanks Ma!” Scott said, removing his mother’s hands from either side of her face. As he proceeded to wipe off the lipstick from his face, he turned to Chris. “Bro, are you gonna go up there?”

“Nah, just gonna hang back tonight,” Chris says, sounding defeated.

“What? Why? You love karaoke!”

“This isn’t karaoke. Besides, I’m not really feeling it tonight.” That sounds a lot like what you told him as an excuse to leave the game night. You felt like he was baiting you. To bite or not to bite? That is the question. After some intense and uncomfortable pouting from Scott, Chris caved. “Maybe, and that’s a hard maybe!” Chris slurred and gesticulated as he said so.

Satisfied and then distracted, Scott wandered off to his other party guests, his mother following closely behind him. You, however, feeling particularly petty, were not satisfied with his answer. “Too cool for this, are you?” You instigate.

Chris scoffs and swigs his beer, eyes fixed ahead. “Why don’t you go up there? You’re supposedly a big shot rockstar,” you roll your eyes at the title, “and I’ve yet to see what you can do.” A lie, but only he knows that.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I would, but I’ve been told I can’t because I’m a ‘professional’ and will ‘intimidate’ others from having fun, so, whatever…” you say, mocking Scott’s request.

“Yep… sounds about right.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” The liquor made you bold, but Chris barely bats an eye at your brutish behavior. He only winks and walks away. You find yourself trying to manage the butterflies that arise at his slight act, the fluttering cutting through your irritation. What the hell body! We’re not supposed to feel this way towards him!

As you watch Chris disappear down the stairs, there’s a hand on your shoulder that you harshly shrug out of. You turn around to face the offender, but soften at the confused face you meet. “Oh, Lisa. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. Not unless you’ve got eyes in the back of your head,” she chuckles. “Are you ok, darling? You look… pissed.”

You lightly laugh, “Yeah… no… I mean yes, I’m fine.”

Lisa looks at you with an eyebrow raised, unconvinced. “Uh huh… I won’t push only because it’s a party, but I want you to know you can tell me anything that troubles you.” Even if it’s your son? You nod, knowing she’s sincere. “So, Scott said that you all are free on Monday.”

“Yep, first full free day in a while!”

“Great! Well, I wanted to invite you to the art museum with me on Monday. There’s a new exhibit opening up and seniors and friends get a special viewing. What do ya say?”

“Aw, I’d love to, Lisa! What’s the—“

“Guys, gals, and non-binary pals! May I have your attention again!” Everyone returns to the railing to look at the host on the stage downstairs. “Our next performer is somewhat unsuspecting, however, a Boston boy through and through. Says he’s a huge fan of the Patriots,” there’s some “woops” for the home team, “and a big fan of singing some Billy Joel…”

“No, he’s not!” you look at Lisa confusedly, as she covers her mouth.

“Who’s not?”

“…and goes by the name of ‘Sassy Cevans’…” the host continues.

“Oh yes he is!” Scott says from your left, inexplicably giddy.

“WHO IS?!” Your question has yet to be answered as the song's guitar riff ripples through the venue. The performer explodes onto the stage, back to the crowd, air strumming along. They turn around as the first lyrics come in and your question is answered, but now you have so, so many more. What in the hell??

Part 5 cont.

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x y/n #slow burn series #chris evans x you #chris evans one shot #chris evans series #chris evans x black reader #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction

[ready8210]

„Let me in your heart again“

2. California calling

Vivian

Munich / Germany - Vivian's Hotel room

It's a shame you have to spend the whole day in a boring plane. I let my eyes wander out of the window, taking in the breathtaking bright blue morning sky, one last time.

It was a nice breathy summer day and I was standing in my hotel room in Munich, had grabbed my packed bags and was ready to go for our "two - year - adventure".

It took me some days to realize, what happened and that I would spend the next years with one of the biggest rock bands in history. Me, little clumsy, timid Vivian.

Unfortunately it didn't take me that long, to realize, my hero, the man himself, Mr Freddie Mercury, literally HATES ME.

Yes he hates me, for sure.

And I have to admit, I shad a view tears, as my fantasizing about what could have been, between the two of us, went overboard and got the best of me.

NO, you can't just really believe that. Of course I didn't cry!! I'm on a MISSION now....giving him the hardest time ever!!!!

I may be a tad to upbeat here. I'm afraid things will evolve in another direction.

* * * *

Munich / Germany - Airport

I took a taxi, earlier today, to get all my bags full of camera equipment and belongings to the airport. Two suitcases for all of my cameras, lenses and all the other stuff, that comes along with being a photographer, plus two, for all my clothes and personal stuff. I'm hopeless when it comes to packing, so I always end up with way to much to carry around.

Finally there, we had some hours to spare and I was killing time, strolling around the multiple shops with my new „friend" Roger Taylor, incessantly asking me about my life and flirting like a manic.

He really can be annoyingly persistent.

I ended up telling him I'm married, having high hopes he would draw his attention to somebody else. Big mistake, I tell you. It encouraged him even more. I finally found some alone time, which was much needed, cause for whatever reason, I didn't feel very sociable today, as Brian and John forcefully tug him away from me, to discuss "something" with the band.

Looking after them, strolling away and making their way to the other end of the hall, I rummage around my bag, to put out my cellphone and headphones and make myself comfortable, while waiting for boarding to begin. I have to smile, as I hear the first tones of „under pressure" resounding in my ear. „How fitting" I giggle, while laying back my head, with closed eyes and sealing myself off from the outside world.

„Boarding for business class passengers will begin in 5 minutes", I hear a tinny voice informing the waiting crowd, as I still lay back in my seat, waiting to head to sunny California. My head is killing me at the moment, many sleepless nights and pervasive anxiety attack's, for the last view days, didn't make it better. And to make matters worse, there's no chance, not even a spark of relaxation, for the next two years. Even less, when you have to deal with a hate - filled Rock God.

Convinced to fly economy today, as Mr. Beach had acknowledged me, a view days ago, I look at my ticket for the first time, since I received it, recognizing, much to my surprise and liking, I am booked for business class.

„Let's go" I mutter noiseless „Let the hell ride begin", putting my way to heavy bag over my shoulder and enthusiastically bouncing up. This new circumstances really lighten up my gloomy mood.

As I make my way to the end of the line of waiting people, I can see Freddie hectically gesturing in my direction and scoffing something to Paul, while shaking his head contemptible, to then shoot me a death glare.

Paul Prenter to be precise. He's one of Freddie's PA's and the both of them are literally inseparable. Sticking together like Siamese twins the whole time. Somehow I feel sorry for Freddie, spending his time with a sneaky, calculating, little rat, always controlling his every move and telling him what to do. I may be prepossessed against Paul, but that's the impression I got so far. Earlier today, Roger did his best, to convince me of Peters malice. And one look at him is enough to know, Roger is right.

Besides that, I already was able to see for myself, when I was invited to the studio again and we all went out for dinner, a view days ago. The day was packed with teasing, despicable glances and subtle insults coming from Paul. After I was invited, I hoped for a more ‚friendly' meeting with Freddie, but he unfortunately took Paul as an example and did his best to make life hard for me.

Someone is not too happy with the fact I will join them business class, I tell myself, as I look at Freddie. I put on a big satisfied smile and look in his direction, while nodding brazenly. His expression changes to pure fury, you literally can see smoke whooshing out of his ears, before he relaxes his hands, which were painfully clenched into fists, showing every vein on his skin, and grabs his bag to quickly walk towards me, with narrowed lips and madness in his eyes. For a second I'm pretty sure he will stab me right there.

I shirk from his look, as a subtle hint of timidity overcomes me and make my way to the counter, as I realize, I'm next in line. A woman behind it checks my passport and ticket with a bored expressing, putting on a exaggerated smile, while handing me my documents back.

„Have a nice and enjoyable flight Ms", I hear her fading voice, already making my way to the plane, through the boarding bridge.

„Your seat Ms Kurzmann", I be led to my place, by a warmly smiling flight attendant. „If you need something, just let me know. Enjoy your flight."

Stowing away my luggage and seating myself, I take in the surroundings. This will be my best flight ever, I smile in satisfaction.

It will not! You'll see.

„Ms Kurzmann?", a friendly man, with a nice British accent appears besides me, seating himself, reaching out his hand to me.

„Yes, Vivian Kurzmann?!" I say half asking, looking astonished, and puzzled at him, as I hesitantly reach out my hand to greet him. I have to stand up to do so. Social interaction is not that easy, when flying business class.

„So You're the photographer the band is all exited about?" he babbles out, putting on a toothy grin, one that indeed shows all of his teeth. He has a really warm and friendly smile, one that immediately makes you feel happy.

„Oh excuse me. How rude of me. I'm Peter Freestone, or Phoebe for almost everybody." he introduces himself, while still giving me a firm handshake.

„Oh, I'm pretty sure not ‚everybody' is pleased with this arrangement." I mumble suggestively, looking at my hands, with Freddie, my new BFF, in mind.

„Phoebe?" I wonder, as we end our handshake. As I realize the word left my mouth, I slowly shake my head, fixing his eyes again and continue „isn't that a woman's name?"

„I suppose it's Freddie you're talking about? Oh I assume you caught him in one of his „good moods" he quips. Realizing my perplexed expression, he continues

„I should explain that. I'm Freddie's PA and he gives all of his close friends new names. Female ones for male and vice versa. Mine is Phoebe." he blinks at me.

„Well then, nice to meet you sir." I respond politely.

„Please call me Phoebe." he requests, as he still tries to make himself comfortable, searching for something in his bag.

„Gladly. I'm Viv." I tell him, leaning back in my seat, letting out a pleased sigh and marveling at what my seat and his surroundings have to offer.

Phoebe starts giggling and mutters:

„I don't think so..."

I turn my attention back towards him with a baffled mien. I already know this flight will be an ‚interesting' one.

„And whats that suppose to mean?" I begin to dig deeper, looking at him, my eyes widening in curiosity.

„Freddie already has chosen your new name." his lips turn into a fiendish smile, as he glances up from his bag and puts out a more then worn out book.

„No way. He literally hates me. I really wouldn't call me a friend of him. Not even close. We're more like Kain and Abel, David and Goliath or Napoleon and Kutuzov. You'll see when we arrive in LA." I put him off.

Phoebe lets out a loud lough „I'm telling you. YOU already have your name set." he assures me, nodding confirmingly.

„Enlighten me please." I request him, feeling curiosity grow in me.

„Brody." he shrugs , without any expression on his face.

„Brody? He couldn't come up with something better?" I ask blankly, still wondering how he came up with this name especially with such a boring one.

„You may ask him yourself." a broadly grinning Phoebe encourages me.

A queasy feeling spreads out, as is realize, I have to handle him for the next two years. And looking back on our two ‚dates', this won't be peaceful two years.

Unfortunately, my naive dream of a happy cure world unexpectedly came to an end last week, on this history - charged Friday and bursted like a soap bubble.

I shake my head in refuse at his words „I don't want to be eaten alive."

„This will be interesting two years." he winks amused.

In a steadily, serious voice I say „Don't get to exited. I may be dead and gone by the end of this day." Letting my head fall on my shoulder and my tongue hanging out of my mouth.

„The boys were right, you are adorable." he snickers.

Immediately turning red on his last remark, I coyly look into my lap.

„Young lady, I have to leave you for a short while. I'll be right back." Phoebe breaks the short silence, standing up from his seat and turning his back to me.

„I'll do my best to keep the evil away and stay alive. See you later." I exclaim, forming a cheeky smile.

As Phoebe strolls away, I grab my phone to ask google about my new dubious name.

‚Dirt' and ‚mud' I read speechless, with widened eyes after some minutes of research.

Staring at my phone with rising rage, I loudly blurt out „THAT SON OF A BITCH.", as Freddie and his partner in crime arrive at their seats. Both looking at me with a mixture of astonishment and aversion.

Freddie?.....here? In business class? The fact he's not flying first class today, for whatever reason, explains the tense atmosphere, now laying over the cabin like a big black cloud.

„Speaking of the devil" I address Freddie, playfully smiling, nodding teasingly at him again.

Something tells me, he wouldn't have expected me to speak to him like this, as his expression changes to a soft puzzled look and every muscle in his face relaxes. Still staring at me and looking me straight in the eyes, I move up my hand to wave at him, shooting him a challenging look. He looks down quickly, as phoebe comes back and passes by. With a long loud sigh Freddie falls into his seat, chatting and snickering with Paul.

Two can play this game Mr Mercury. I move to face my phone again, while shaking my head, still smiling over my little triumph. If he thinks he can intimidate me, than he's on the wrong track.

I really don't know what's coming over me today. It's not my typical introvert behavior, that usually would cause me to turn red like a tomato and go on the run. But I might get used to it.

„Im glad you survived", a winded phoebe collapses into his seat.

„Mephistopheles and his companion decided to leave me alone.

NEVER underestimate a woman and her superpowers" I giggle in response. Phoebe, for whatever reason unable to speak, tries to suppress his laughter.

„Did you take part in a marathon?" I ask in amusement, watching his rapid breathing. „I'm afraid you may need medical assistance."

Phoebe gasps and laughs at my words, which isn't of advantage for his current physical state.

„I'm pretty sure it's you, being dead and gone by tonight, not me." I quip, before giving the pour man his much needed rest.

Taking notice of all the laughter, Freddie turns to face us, jealousy and annoyance washing over his face, looking back and forth between Phoebe and me.

Deciding to ignore him this time - i really don't want to overreach things - I relax in my seat, putting my headphones out of my pocket.

„I Never would" phoebe finally finds his breath again.

"Would what?" I ask startled.

„Underestimate you and your superpowers." he winks, before grabbing his book again and browsing through it.

Noticing Freddie standing there again and staring at us, he whispers „He's a good guy, he's just very serious about his privacy and cautious when it comes to new people coming into his life", while slightly nodding his head in Freddie's direction. „You both will get along well."

„I hope so" I whisper calmly, facing Freddie.

As our eyes meet he holds my gaze for a view seconds, looking at me, as if he is in some kind of trance, before quickly turning his head back in embarrassment - at least it looked like that, as his cheeks started to glow in various red tones.

* * * *

With plugged in headphones I shuffle through my phone, with shaking hands, trying to find the kind of music, that will keep me calm for the tricky part of this flight.

I really enjoy flying, but takeoffs and landings scare the shit out of me. Most of the times everything goes off well, but when anxiety comes over me, I tend to go completely nuts. And this is no understatement.

Feeling a hand on my knee, I look up in surprise.

„You're ok?" a soft voice interrupts my growing panic. „Your hands are shaking like leaves." A concerned phoebe looks at me.

„I will be fine as soon as this bird will be up in the sky" is say assuringly, pointing upwards.

„Fear of flying?" he asks with worry in his voice.

„Not flying per se, just getting up there and down again. Don't worry, I will be fine." I smile at him affirmative.

„What are you listening to?" Phoebe tries his best to distract me.

„Canzonetta Sull'aria" by Mozart. It always helps with my anxieties." And let me tell you I have a lot. I simply reply with a hint of embarrassment in my voice.

„Oh, so you're into classical music?" an enthusiastic Phoebe babbles, with sparkling eyes and a way to big smile on his face. He seems to be as excited as a little boy in a candy store.

„I grew up with it, my grandma would never listen to anything else. I never could understand why, as a young kid. But here we are, over 20 years later....I really enjoy it these days." I tell him while melancholy comes over me.

Phoebe, recognizing my growing nostalgia, warmly smiles at me „I love classical music. I would love to show you my collection one day. I'm sure you'll find some stuff you like. Maybe I can show you something new."

Giving him a sincere smile I nod warmly: „That would be lovely."

„We just have to smuggle you past Mephistopheles." Phoebe giggles while looking in Freddie's direction, his mouse turning Into a mischievous grin.

„Uh?" Unable To disguise my lack of knowledge. „Why is that?" I go on as Phoebe didn't answer.

„I live at Garden Lodge. I'm his PA, so I get paid to always be around. It works best like this." he explains in his soft, calming voice.

„My sincere condolences." I reply ironically. „Living with Mephistopheles must be tricky." I add playfully.

Phoebe shakes his head giggling "You have no idea."

„Please never tell him, I called him that....uhm Mephistopheles I mean." I urge him, as I let my gaze wander to Freddie, who's sitting there, his thoughtful eyes fixed on a pad laying on his lap, while fiddling with a pen.

"My lips are sealed darling." he pats my shoulder, smiling kindly at me.

As I let my gaze wander over Freddie, peacefully sitting there, I surmise sadness in his whole appearance, he's always surrounded by people, most of the time by Paul Prenter, but in his eyes you can still see pure sadness and loneliness. I know this feeling too well.  But that's another story to tell.

After a short while, I look back to my phone, to stop my thoughts and try to prepare for the upcoming departure. Unaware what awaits me on this flight.

My omnipresent panic increases to another level, as it abruptly turns dark outside and the sky is fully covered with thick pitch black thundery clouds.

We were told to be ready for takeoff, as a voice rings out of the speakers: „The flight is delayed due to bad weather. Please remain seated and keep your seatbelt fastened. We're ready for takeoff shortly."

„Ready for takeoff?" I yell hysterically. „They must be fuc*** kidding. They cannot possibly....FU**!" I exclaim much louder as intended.

Phoebe looks at me terrified, based on my unfortunate choice of words and screaming, not able to hold back his laughter.

„You're laughing?" I snap in frustration.

Phoebe puts on a sympathetic face, while trying to calm me.

„Relax Darling. It'll all be over in a view minutes and you'll enjoy the flight." he soothes me.

„Exactly, everything will be over, that's exactly the point." I object.

Freddie, now noticing my panicky splutter, shakes his head, frantically repressing his laughter.

Shooting him a destroying death stare, I cling to my armrests.

As lightening and thunder set in and a heavy rain falls down, I tremulously look outside, the tip of my nose pressed against the little window.

Turning back, I cup my face with my hands, stammering: "We're going to die. Oh god, we're going to die. Please someone get me out of here." Moving my body back and forth repeatedly.

Phoebe now puts his hand on my shoulder - at least he tries to, with this good distance between our seats - and whispers at me. "Look at me."

Hesitantly putting my hands on my thighs, I look into his calm eyes, as tears roll down my cheeks.

Ok Vivian, how embarrassing can it get? You're such a drama queen.

"Take a deep breath, everything will be alright. Keep breathing, calm down." He whispers, his hand still resting on my shoulder.

I thought I was calmly breathing, for everybody involved, it must've looked like the strained panting of a delivering woman.

The captain informs us, we are next in line and will takeoff shortly, as the rain decreases and the last thunder fades.

At this point I completely lose it: „Oh God, we're taking off, you said everything will be fine." I hiss at Phoebe.

„I will die in this fuc*** plane and Mephisto right there will bring me straight to hell." I gasp way to loud. Again!!

I scroll through my phone like a maniac, as a perplexed Phoebe asks „What are you doing?"

„Searching for music....if I have to bite the dust, it won't happen to the sounds of fuc*** Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart." I mumble frustrated.

I felt the plain moving faster and faster as I shuffled through my phone, not exactly knowing, what I was searching for.

I close my eyes, lay my head back and cling to my armrests even tighter. „Please don't crash, please don't crash, please don't crash...!" I wind the words like a mantra.

The moment the airplain gets off, is the worst. „Oh god, oh god, oh god,..." I gush out, til I notice the plane gains altitude and is now in the air.

„You see darling, nothing happened." Phoebe smiles at me, as I open my eyes again.

Much to my surprise everything went off without any turbulences.

„Nothing happend..." I whisper disbelievingly, scanning every part of the cabin.

„Am I dead?" I ask Phoebe in all seriousness, still taking in the surroundings and looking my body up and down.

Phoebe bursts out laughing and shakes his head.

Surprised by his reaction, I look over to Freddie, who is sitting there alone, turned around to face us, his hand pressed against his mouth, giggling uncontrollably.

As my expression hardens, I face Phoebe again. „If we're dead, we went straight to hell. Mephistopheles is still here." I gesture in Freddie's direction, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

Phoebe just giggles and draws his attention back to the book he is holding.

"Darling, you made my day. I hope you're ok? That was an overly impressive performance." I hear a posh British voice chuckle next to me, as I look out of the window.

I turn around and look up, straight into Mephi....Freddie's deep, brown eyes.

For the first time, the sadness is gone. I look into the two most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Eyes filled with honesty and warmth.

As I feel embarrassment grow, I try to avoid his gaze and look down into my lap, where my still shaking, cold hands are laying. "I hope you enjoyed the show." I stammer scarcely audible, to then face him again, and smiling sheepishly at him. It takes me all my remaining strength to do so.

"It distracted me from my own anxiety. From now on you will do this on every flight." He giggles and taps my shoulder, before strolling back to his seat.

Looking after him, like some love struck teenager, trying to grasp what just happened, Phoebe snaps me out of my thoughts.

"As I said, you'll get along well." He says convinced, not looking up, while reading.

"I really hope so" I mumble, my eyes fixed on Freddie's back, as i feel some hope flaming up in me again.

Part 3 will follow soon...

Also published on wattpad:

#let me in your heart again #letmeinyourheartagain #bohemian rhapsody #brian may #fanfic #firstfanfic #freddie #freddie mercury #freddiemercury #jimercury #john deacon #love #romance #brianmay #johndeacon #roger taylor #rogertaylor #jimhutton #jim hutton #queen #queen band

[daebakinc]

Elision

Pairing: Chanyeol x OC Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff Summary: You take in a down on his luck hybrid, never expecting him to burrow his way into your heart. Word Count: 6.1K          

 The first time you see Chanyeol is in the pub down the street from your apartment on the kind of rainy night that softens the street lights from harsh orange to quiet yellow.

           The Foxy Lady itself is one of those magical places where you always feel at home no matter what part of the world you come from. The kind of place that beckons to you like an old friend to come and sit and rest awhile, to let the world fly by this small corner of comfort. Inside the classic brick exterior, the space is one long, wide room with walls painted an antique green that hit just the right balance of bright and comforting. An old oak bar stretches comfortably along the wall and chairs and tables are scattered around, their surfaces worn to gleaming gold and soft with long and faithful service. A small stage sits in the corner farthest to the door, ready for the any of the city’s musicians willing to accept payment in steady drinks, rich food, and good company. The kitchen, hidden by a wall behind the bar, emits delicious aromas incessantly, sending smells as tempting as a siren’s call onto the street each time the door opens.

           Or perhaps it isn’t the building itself that creates such an ambience. It very well could be the bar’s owners, the inseparable husband and wife duo Jongdae and Sol. Between the two of them and their matching brilliant, teasing personalities, the sun never sets on The Foxy Lady. For reasons unknown, they’d personally taken you under their wing the night after you wandered in, forced out of your new grocery-scarce new apartment by the search for food. As you soon found out, any and all who walked through the door were treated with affable welcome by the stunning husband and wife. Everyone was a friend to Sol and Jongdae.

No one knows Sol’s real name because Jongdae doesn’t call her by anything else but the nickname he gave her, but one smile from her and you’ll forget you even had a question. But that smile always turns a thousand times brighter when she looks at her husband, and Jongdae’s return smile is no less adoring. If the two of them had lived hundreds of years ago, there would still be ballads and poems about the love they share. On your bad days, you’ll admit you’re a little jealous of that kind of bond, having never experienced anything close.

“Hello, gorgeous.” The smile Jongdae sends you when you slide onto one of the unoccupied barstools could win the heart of a stone. “How’s your day been?”

He doesn’t bother asking for your order, already scribbling it on a tab and adding it to the kitchen’s stack before reaching for a glass and filling it with your favorite, an elderflower Italian soda with a crazy straw.

You send him a grateful smile and take a long slurp from the straw as soon as he sets it in front of you. “Semi-productive. Got all my cleaning done for showing off the apartment to potential roommates next week, but then I lapsed and ended up binge watching half the season of The Flash for the rest of the day. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t realize the time and when I did, I decided I was too lazy to cook for myself.”

“You’re anything but lazy. You deserve a break.” Your friend laughs as he bustles about, transferring plates from the kitchen at each ding to a patron or to the server’s station for Jongin or Baekhyun to pick up. “Any promising leads for roommates?”

“No one stellar.” You shrug and sneak a mint leaf from behind the bar to pop in your mouth. “But I only put up the ad last week. Hopefully someone shows up, though Joy will be hard to replace.”

“We’ll find you a roomie just as good. Maybe Sol knows someone.” Jongdae looks over your shoulder as the bells above the door tinkle happily. His smile widens as he raises his hand to wave. “Hey! Glad to see you made it!”

Curious, you shift in your seat to look as well. When you do, you’re suddenly very glad you already swallowed your drink.

The stranger is one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen. Or do you mean cutest? At the moment, you can’t exactly tell. Even in a long tweed overcoat, his body seems to go on forever and the way the light is lets you see the shadows of solid muscles beneath his black turtleneck. His face is handsome as well, half in shadows from a wide brimmed hat pulled low, but his tentative smile, the smile of a child hoping he’ll be welcomed in a new classroom, softens your heart in the same way the sight of a puppy would.

“Hi, Jongdae,” he says, the baritone of his voice like a shot of dark chocolate to your veins. He shifts a guitar bag from one hand to the other with the care of a mother readjusting an infant. You can tell the bag is old, its once black color faded to a grey-green. “Am I on time?”

“You’re an hour early, Chanyeol.” Jongdae wipes his hands and rushes around the bar to engulf the other man in a hug.

You have to stifle a giggle when Chanyeol bends so he can put his arms under Jongdae’s even though he is significantly taller. It makes him look even more childlike.

Jongdae pulls away but keeps a hand on Chanyeol’s back as he brings him further into the room. “Would you like to eat first? We’ve still got awhile before the dinner rush.”

“I’d like to set up and I guess if there’s time, I wouldn’t mind something.”

“Alright. Don’t forget, you don’t have to play the whole night. You can take breaks when you’re hungry or thirsty, okay?” Jongdae’s voice fades into the white noise of other patrons’ chatter as he walks away with Chanyeol, his luxuriant fox tail draped over one arm to keep it out of the way, tapered ears flicking this way and that in merriment.

Your eyes slide away from Jongdae to Baekhyun and Jongin. Jongin’s round, soft umber-colored bear ears twitch slightly as he chats with one of the regulars, while Baekhyun’s ears are floppy like a beagle’s, his tail also cheerily swishing away. Hidden in the kitchen, Kyungsoo probably has his thick wolf’s tail neatly covered and ears tucked under a hat to keep his fur out of the food. Various patrons display the hybrid traits of animal ears and tails out in the open as well. The Foxy Lady is one of the few places you know several feel free enough to do so without fear.

When people started modifying their bodies with animal genes, people thought it was odd but accepted it with eye rolls and quick skitters across the street, labeling it a trend that would fade out. Then these people became parents and passed on the same physical traits to their children. For whatever reason, this was an entirely different matter in the eyes of many. The eye aversions became mutterings, and in the worst cases, the mutterings became violence.

Finally, humane and moral minds won out, leading to the ratification of anti-discrimination laws to protect and guarantee equality for hybrids. The passage of time has brought more societal acceptance of hybrids, but some still have issues finding jobs and housing, let alone decent treatment in certain pockets of the country, and unfortunately, in your city as well. You’ve seen Sol kick out a number of people for snide comments about Jongdae and the others. They got off lucky though; you’d heard a few of their remarks and they warranted a good bloodied nose in your opinion.

           A plate of steaming home fries, buttered asparagus, and sage-rubbed chicken slides beneath your nose. Wearing a yellow T-shirt that makes her dark skin glow even more than usual, Sol winks at you as she pokes your forehead. “You look like you’re thinking about something unpleasant. Need to spill?”

           You shake your head and smile reassuringly. “Nah, it’s nothing.”

           “Well if it is, nothing a little bit of Kyungsoo’s cooking can’t fix, so dig in.”

           “Who’s Chanyeol?” you ask, biting a stalk of asparagus in half and nodding your head in the direction of the stage. “I’ve never seen him before.”

           Even when Sol frowns, she’s beautiful. “Jongdae found him a couple days ago playing on a street corner. Poor thing just came to the city a few weeks ago and still hasn’t found a job. Jongdae convinced him to come here to at least get a good meal in him. The man’s too skinny.”

           Jongdae returns in time to hear the last part of Sol’s comment and grins, pecking her cheek as he scoots past her. “Not all of us can be as thick as your man, you know. Give me a week with him and I’ll have him looking like Pooh.”

           “You leave that to me. What should I fix for him?”

           “He said nothing yet, just wants some hot water with lemon and honey. I think he’s one of those ‘wants to earn his keep’ types.”

           Sol snorts and heads towards the kitchen. “He’ll get it, but he’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’s going to play hungry under my roof.”

           When closing time rolls around, you’re still sitting in the same place, nursing your fifth soda. You really had intended to get back to your apartment after you ate to continue cleaning. You really had. But you hadn’t counted on Chanyeol. Jongdae was a generous man, but he wouldn’t have let Chanyeol play if he wasn’t good. The problem for you was Chanyeol wasn’t just good. He was pretty fantastic.

           His deep voice became sinful liquid cocoa as it poured from his mouth through the microphone and into the room. Pair it with the rich honey tones of his guitar he plucked with the ease of hundreds if not thousands of hours of practice, and you were as hooked as a magpie who spotted something shiny.

           Some of the songs he played you knew, but some you didn’t. Given the emotion in his voice, the way he closed his eyes when he sang them, you’d bet good money they were songs he wrote himself. And he played everything, taking shouted requests from patrons, tickling the guitar strings to play American rock one moment and Spanish lullabies the next. A few times you felt your mouth hanging open as you stared. You’d shut it just as quick, but hard as you tried, you just got lost in the music and it’d happen again.

           The light flick of a wet rag on your arm snaps you out of it. Baekhyun snickers and uses the rag to wipe at a spot on the bar. “Alright, kid. We love you, but time’s up. Last call was thirty minutes ago. Some of us got places to go, people to see.”

           “If by places to go, you mean your bed, yeah, you’re right,” you tease.

           “Hey, my bed and I are in a very intimate and adoring relationship,” he retorts. “Don’t be disrespectful.”

           “My deepest apologies.” You glance around.

           You’re the last patron still sitting, the other stragglers pushing through the door into the misting night. Chanyeol is still on the stage, packing away his guitar, head slightly twisted as he speaks with Jongdae. You wonder what they’re talking about and if the tall, talented man will become a regular fixture at the pub. It’d be really nice if he did, you think. For a variety of reasons.

           “Yo, Y/N, you’re not drunk or something are you?” Baekhyun asks, looking concerned at your spacing out. “Jongin and I can give you a lift home.”

           “Sorry, just thinking.” You pat his hand. “I’m totally sober unless you count sleepiness as a form of intoxication.”

           “With some of the places I’ve found Jongin sleeping when he hasn’t had a drop, I might.”

           After a few more minutes of banter and catching up with Baekhyun and Sol, you finally slip off your stool and head towards the door. You notice with a small bit of disappointment Chanyeol is already gone. You’d wanted to compliment him on his performance, but you’ll have to wait until next time, you suppose. Hopefully there’s a next time.

           When you step outside the door, you find that in the time you spent talking, the mist outside had escalated into heavy-drop rain. Not a torrential downpour, but enough to have you looking like a drowned rat by the time you get home.

           With a sigh, you walk to the edge of The Foxy Lady’s canopy and tug up your hood, tying the strings together. Mentally mapping the neighborhood, you figure if you keep to overhangs and sprint between the breaks, you can reach your apartment with minimal soaking.

           You arrive at the street corner with only a few scatterings of rain on your shoulders and head. Your shoes, however, emit sloshing, squishing noises with each step after an unfortunately placed puddle. Looking across the street, your apartment door within view in all its tempting dry socks glory, you brace yourself for the final sprint.

           A sniffle alerts you that you’re not the only person taking shelter in front of the department store. You cautiously glance to your side. A tall figure huddles against the concrete wall, the wet canvas of the overhang touching the top of his hat and drops of water dripping off the brim onto his shoulders. A stuffed brown paper bag with The Foxy Lady’s logo sits beside a beat-up looking bookbag and an old guitar bag. Even in the shadows, you recognize him.

           “Chanyeol?”

           The man jumps like you prodded him with a stick, nearly collapsing.

           “Hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” you quickly apologize, throwing your hands up, palms out.

           “Do I know you?” Chanyeol asks. He inches towards the bags as if afraid you’ll snatch them.

           “No. I’m sorry, I’m Y/N. I was at Jongdae’s earlier and I overheard your name. Bad eavesdropping habit. I listened to you play the whole night. You’re really good,” you offer with a tentative smile in case your apology wasn’t enough.

           “Oh. Thanks.” He smiles a little, sending a little flutter through your chest. “You’re a friend of Jongdae’s?”

           “Him and Sol.” You don’t comment on the once over you notice him give you. “They were my first friends here. Are you waiting for a ride? You can wait in my apartment if you like so you’re out of the wet; it’s just over there.”

           Maybe you’re a little crazy offering to let a strange man into your apartment, but Chanyeol looks like a lost puppy and only a heartless person would leave a lost dog in the rain.

           “Um, I’m actually just trying to figure out where to go.”

           “Like directions?”

           “No. I- I, um,” Chanyeol ducks his head and mumbles, “I don’t actually have a place yet. Haven’t found one I can afford, you know. There’s a shelter over on 7th I could go to, but things didn’t go so well last time…”

“The shelter’s that bad?”

“Sometimes.” His tone doesn’t encourage questions about his experience with them.

“Why not call Jongdae?” you ask, knowing he and Sol would let Chanyeol crash on their couch without a second thought.

Chanyeol shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to get in their way and Jongdae already lined up a few gigs for me so I have a some money. I can’t ask him for more than that.”

His eyes move away from you to gaze out on the street. You recognize the defeated slump in his shoulders and the downward set of his mouth. It’s the look of someone who’s talking themselves into going through a repulsive experience because there is no other choice. You’ve made that kind of decision before.

Before you realize it, you make another choice. “Why don’t you stay with me while you get on your feet?”

Chanyeol’s eyes shoot back to you, so comically wide they remind you of Kyungsoo’s. “What?”

“My roommate had to move back home unexpectedly, so I’ve got a free room and month paid for the next two months, so it can be yours if you want it.”

“Really? You really mean it?”

           “Yeah. I have an extra room, you don’t have a room at all. Jongdae trusts you, so I figure you’re a good guy. Not like you’re going to attack me in the middle of the night or something, right?”

           “No. I’ve never hurt anyone intentionally,” he says in a rush.

           “I wouldn’t think so,” you laugh.

           “But you’d really do that for me? A complete stranger?” he asks as if giving you a chance to take your offer back but hoping you won’t.

           Your smile fades a bit, unpleasant memories lurk towards the surface of your mind. “I promised myself once that if I ever met someone as down on their luck as I was at the time and I was in a better position, I’d do what I could to help them.”

           Chanyeol picks at a lose string on his sleeve as he thinks your proposal over. You wait, shuffling your feet so they don’t get cold.

           “You should know something about me first,” Chanyeol says softly. Avoiding your eyes, he slowly reaches up and takes the brim of his hat between his fingers. After a second’s hesitation, he takes it off.

           Two bright wheat gold colored ears perch on the top of his head, pressed against his hair in anticipation of being rejected. If Chanyeol expected you to be surprised, he’d only be half right. You’d had your suspicions given Jongdae’s special attention and how he never took off his coat in the pub despite the heat that came with a room full of warm bodies.

           “They’re very pretty,” you say.

           Chanyeol lifts his eyes, his fingers stilling from crumpling his hat. You can read the shock there and want to hunt down whoever put that fear and expectation in his head. You also want to hug Chanyeol, to take away some of that hurt, but you’re afraid that may be too much for the poor man just yet.

           When he doesn’t move, you walk over and shoulder his bookbag. The lightness of it makes you feel worse for him, but you mask it quickly. You hate being pitied.

           Instead, you tell him, “Grab your other stuff and we’ll make a run for it, okay? It’s the brown door, right beside the lamppost.”

           Clearly in a daze, Chanyeol picks up his guitar and bag of food, and runs after you across the street, up the stairs to your apartment, and into your life.

           The first time you kiss Chanyeol is on your couch on a warm spring Sunday afternoon made for new beginnings.

           All is quiet when you return from the grocery store, the only sounds drifting inside from the open living room window. Birds chirp as they industriously build a nest on the outcrop of the building roof, cars hum and chortle as they pass below. Spices from the Lebanese restaurant down the street and sugar from Kyungsoo’s Sunday pies at The Foxy Lady mix with the half-pot of coffee you made earlier.

           The grocery bags crinkle loudly on your arm as you step around the pile of shoes in the entryway. Your flats and boots a tumbled mess with Chanyeol’s sneakers and loafers in a cozy, domestic scene that makes you smile.

           That night you let Chanyeol sleep on your couch, you hadn’t expected he’d stay long. Every day he went out looking for work, only to return empty handed. But he never showed his disappointment, shrugging it off with an addictively wide smile and promising to try again the next day so he could start supporting himself. Chanyeol insisted on earning his keep by fixing things around the apartment and occasionally cooking despite your protests that he didn’t need to do anything.

A week turned into a month, a month into two, two months into just over half a year. After Chanyeol found a job at a music store run by Jihoon, a lemur hybrid, it made sense for him to just stay. Your apartment was already home.

           You like having Chanyeol around. He always makes you smile. Every day you come home, he greets you with perked ears and feathery tail wagging. He listens to you talk about your day, sportingly joining in your complaining even though he has no idea what you were talking about or celebrating with you on a raise or just a plain old good day. Then there’s the music.

           There was always music in the apartment with Chanyeol. Every day is an auditory adventure. He has some favorite songs you’ve learned to love too, but otherwise there’s always something different playing. Classic rock, house electronic, acoustic ballads, bubblegum pop. You name the genre, Chanyeol plays it. Your favorite days are the ones the music is Chanyeol’s own.

You’ll bundle yourself into a blanket burrito and sit on his bed to listen to the new songs he composes and records on an old computer. If you are really lucky, Chanyeol plays the songs for you himself on one of his guitars. You’d bought him a new one for his birthday, and he collected broken guitars to fix from work. There’s at least one in every room, even the bathroom for some reason.

By the time you put the groceries down, Chanyeol is still nowhere in sight, but bits of him are spread throughout the apartment.

           The Ironman cookie jar you bought for him at the same secondhand store he bought his bed and desk. The black hoodie haphazardly laying across the back of the couch because although it’s his, you wear it just as often. The cheap neon yellow picture frame he won at a carnival last summer, a picture of the two of you from that same night inside, both wearing matching grins and arms around each other.

           Your eyes slide to Chanyeol’s still closed door. It’s not abnormal for him to sleep late on a weekend off, but after last night, you’re worried.

           It began innocently enough. Dinner out at The Foxy Lady because it was board night, an hours long board-game competition Sol held at the end of every month. You lost horribly to Chanyeol at Sorry in round three, but you had your revenge when Baekhyun beat him at one of the most intense Bananagrams games you’ve ever seen, spectators loudly cheering for their chosen side until they were drowned out by Chanyeol’s agonized losing howl and Baekhyun’s ecstatic victory yips.

           Chanyeol was still sulking when you left, fluffy tail dragging on the ground. “I still say ‘quartzy’ can’t be a real word,” he muttered as he held the door open for you.

           “Jongdae found it in the dictionary, Chanyeol,” you reminded him gently.

           Your friend snorted before looking at you intently. “You’re going to help me practice for next month, right? Like every day. Next time, I’ll be the champion.”

           “We’ll see.”

           “Come on, Y/N,” he whined. He threw an arm around your shoulders and hugged you to his side. “Please? Pretty pretty please with a strawberry on top?”

           You cursed your heart for still beating faster and your nose for wanting to bury itself in his chest. You buried your feelings for Chanyeol a long time ago when your friendship became one you couldn’t live without. But you’re only human and they sometimes pop through. You suspected deep down that they were the reason your dates rarely got a second chance.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a cherry?” you asked wryly.

           “But you don’t like cherries. You like strawberries,” he replied, grinning down at you.

           “Fine, I’ll help. Can you just slow down a bit? I feel like I’m being decapitated.”

           “Oh, sorry.”

Chanyeol shortened his stride to match yours, but kept his arm in place, his hand curled around your arm in easy familiarity. The gesture was almost brotherly in nature and while it wasn’t exactly what you truly wanted, you love physical contact as much as the hybrid beside you.

As you walked past a group of men standing at the street corner and smoking cigarettes, an anonymous voice not so quietly sneered, “Freak.”

The rhythm of Chanyeol’s wagging tail skipped a beat and you felt his body stiffen beside you.

Your temper flared. It had taken a long time for you and the others at The Foxy Lady to help convince Chanyeol being a hybrid was nothing to be ashamed of with as many setbacks as leaps forward. You weren’t about to take some random asshole thinking he was being funny and better by insulting your friend.

You slipped out from Chanyeol’s arm, ignoring his soft murmur of your name to march back to the group of men. “Which one of you said that?”

“What’s it to you, sweetheart?” one of them asked. He sent you a smile you supposed he thought was charming. “Why don’t you lose the mutant and come home with me?”

“The only freak here is you, jackoff,” you hissed. You stepped close enough that discomfort flashed across his face. “You think you’re a big badass man calling another human a derogatory name? Newsflash, you’re not!”

You pointed at Chanyeol who still stood frozen where you left him. “That man is better than you’ll ever be in every single way. Every way, you hear me? All you’re doing by insulting him is proving you’re the subhuman piece of trash who thinks just because someone’s different, that makes them unworthy of common decency and respect. Go home and pick up a damn book so your brain might grow enough to be a human’s.”

For good measure, you plucked the cigarette from his hand and stomped it into the cement before tramping back to Chanyeol.

“Hey, bitch!”

Heavy footsteps came behind you, a hand roughly grabbing your shoulder to spin you around. A raised hand caught the streetlight. Heart stopping, you screwed your eyes shut and brace yourself.

The expected smack never came, a strangled cry sounding instead.

You opened your eyes to Chanyeol’s back. His tail stuck straight out, stiff and unmoving. Peeking around him, you saw your would-be assailant on his knees with Chanyeol’s hand clenched around his wrist.

“Touch her,” Chanyeol growled, the veins in his arm straining against as he tightened his grip, “and I will make sure you regret it.”

Chanyeol waited until the man gave a weak nod, then tossed him aside. He turned away, pausing when his eyes met yours.

An anger hotter than you thought your friend capable of was fading to embers, replaced but another emotion you could not place. When he didn’t move, you grabbed his hand and towed him along behind you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chanyeol whispered when you got to the apartment door.

You took a deep breath, so your voice and face were calm when you turned around. Meeting his eyes, you said, “Yes, Chanyeol. I did.”

You hadn’t spoken really after that, both going to your own rooms to mull over your own thoughts. You don’t regret standing up for Chanyeol, but you’re worried you made him uncomfortable.

Tiptoeing to his door, you press your ear against it. There’s not a sound except the soft piano Chanyeol plays to help him sleep. You open the door wide enough to slip inside.

The only thing you can see of Chanyeol is the top of his head, dark hair contrasting with his white blanket and pillow. Carefully, you ease yourself down on the bed beside him and drag the covers away from his face. His Rilakkuma doll is still tucked safely in his arms, squished against his cheek.

Affection rises in your chest, tickling your mouth into a smile. “Chanyeol,” you murmur, reaching out to card his mussed hair.

He grumbles something under his breath but doesn’t open his eyes.

Your fingers continue combing his hair, working their way up to one of his ears. You rub the silky fur between your fingers. The gesture is as much for your pleasure as his. A moan rumbles from deep within Chanyeol’s chest and he leans his head into your touch.

His gaze is blurry with sleep when he opens his eyes, but they quickly focus on your face. He smiles. “Morning,” he mumbles, voice deeper than normal with sleep.

“Try afternoon,” you chuckle. You can’t bring yourself to reclaim your fingers as Chanyeol props himself, and continue to ruffle his hair and ears. “I got everything to make your favorite for lunch if you’re hungry. Tonkatsu.”

His smile immediately grows. “You’re the best, Y/N. I’ll help.”

When he grabs the blankets to toss them back and get up, you put a hand on his chest. “No, it’s alright. I’ve got it. You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll get you when it’s ready. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Alright? Why wouldn’t I-” His confused expression falls into a frown. “Oh.”

“The guy was being a dick to compensate for his not having a satisfactory one, you know. You are not a freak.”

“I know.”

“Good. I’d do it all again, Chanyeol, and I meant every word. You are incredibly important to me.”

You gaze into his eyes, trying to make sure he knows how sincere you are. The plan backfires. You’re suddenly far too aware of him. The depth of his chocolate eyes with golden flecks reflecting the sunlight. The smell of his cologne saturating the blankets, the room. The heavy beat of his heart beneath your hand on the firm muscle of his chest.

Snatching your hand and mind back, you smile and hope Chanyeol didn’t notice the growing charge. “I’ll get you when it’s ready, okay? Go back to sleep.”

Because you need to prove to yourself you’re in control, you lean down to kiss his forehead just as he shifts his body upward, saying “It’s okay, I’ll help.”

Your lips hit his lips instead of his skin. The contact lasts a second, but it leaves both of you frozen, staring at each other.

You scramble for an apology, the power to laugh it off, anything but the silence.

Chanyeol’s eyes flick from yours to your mouth. You have no other warning before his hand shoots up to cup your jaw and drag your lips back to his.

Chanyeol is kissing you. Chanyeol is kissing you. That’s all you manage to think before your body takes over. It sinks against him, seeking his scent, his taste. A high whimper of desire fills your throat as his mouth moves against yours, soft but starved. Kissing him is all you imagined but better. So much better.

With a gasp, Chanyeol pulls away, his hand staying in place, hot against your skin. His chest presses against yours with each pant. “I- I’m- uh…” he blinks several times. “I..”

You surge forward, kissing him again, and draw back just enough so your noses brush. With your eyes closed, you whisper, “You better not be about to say, ‘I’m sorry.’”

“Okay,” you feel him wet his lips, “I was going to say… I’m, um, surprised?”

“You’re surprised? You’re the one who kissed me on purpose first.”

“Oh, yeah.” Chanyeol laughs and falls back onto his pillow, a hand over his eyes. He peeks between his fingers. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” You swing your legs up and lie down on your side next to him. “Is that something you’ve been wanting to do for a while?”

“Kinda.”

“Since when?”

“Since that night a few months ago when you fell asleep on me while we were watching El Dorado.”

You remember that night. A little. El Dorado was one of your favorite movies and Chanyeol was a quick convert. But it had been a long week, and one moment you were watching Chel seducing Tulio, and the next you rolling over in bed to sunlight peeking through the window. You thought you’d just walked yourself to your room in a stupor, but maybe not.

“I didn’t even notice you were asleep until your head hit my shoulder,” Chanyeol continues. He glances up at you, then away with a gentle smile. When he speaks, there are many little pauses, as if he’s lost in his own memory and has to savor it. “Then I looked down and… I don’t know. It was like I was seeing you for the first time. I couldn’t breathe. You were soft and perfect and beautiful. Your lips had this little pout, like you were upset at yourself for falling asleep during your favorite movie. All I wanted to do was kiss it away, but…. I didn’t. I just picked you up and tucked you into your bed.”

“And didn’t say anything after?”

“You’d just broken up with what’s-his-name, the freakishly tall one obsessed with Harry Potter. I’m not a jerk.”

“Seungjun. And he was the same height as you, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol shrugs it off.

“Would it freak you if I said I started liking you that first night at The Foxy Lady?” You chuckle at his dropped jaw and perked ears. You close his mouth with a finger. “You were super cute and talented; can you blame me?”

“Do you still think I’m super cute and talented?” he asks, glancing at you through his eyelashes with a teasing smile. He whines when you smack his shoulder.

“What do you think? I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol laughs and flips onto his side as well. His eyes roam your face and his voice lowers. “Yeah, you did.”

           “What?” you ask when the corner of his mouth twitches.

           “I’m just now remembering something Sol said.”

           “And what did Sol say?”

           “She caught me watching you one night and you know her. She got everything out of me. When I told her I wasn’t going to say anything, she told me impossible things have a way of happening anyway. Guess she was right.”

           “Sol’s always right,” you giggle. “I’m really glad this wasn’t her exception.”

           “Me too. So… why didn’t you say anything?”

           “Well, at first it was because I didn’t want you thinking I was trying to take advantage of you or something and you were still getting your life together; you didn’t need a relationship to complicate that even more. Then, I just didn’t want to risk losing you.” It’s a relief to get it all out, like a flood finally released from a dam.

           “I didn’t want to lose you either. You’re one of my best friends.” Chanyeol tentatively reaches out to outline your face with a finger. “Guess I’m lucky I’m in love with my best friend.”

           “Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat.”

           He laughs and tugs you into his arms, rubbing his cheek against your hair. Your hands slide behind his back and curl up to his shoulders, your leg hooking around Chanyeol’s hip to bring him closer. His tail brushes your calf as it gleefully thumps against the mattress.

           “You remembered,” he says.

           “You only play it like every other day,” you retort.

           “I do not.”

           “Okay, maybe it’s one of my favorites to hear you play then.”

           “I’ll play it every single day if you want.”

           Laughing and shaking your head, you wiggle enough to tilt your head back and look at his face. “You could play anything and I’d love it.”

           “Anything? Even ‘It’s a Small World’?” Chanyeol grins playfully and squeezes you. He starts singing, “It’s a small world after all, it’s-”

           His voice goes immediately silent when you press your lips against his again. But you become as lost in the kiss as he is, the leisurely rhythm of it more addictive than any song you’ve heard. Pressed against his warmth, sinking into it. When you sluggishly pull away, his eyes are still closed, mouth slightly parted.

           “Any song but that one,” you whisper lightly.

           Chanyeol’s lips slowly curve in a smile and his eyes open at the same speed like a lazy dog waking up from a nap in the sunshine. His fingers tap a beat against your spine. “I think one’s coming to me right now. If I’d known kissing you would be conducive to my composing, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

           “Then kiss me again.”

           Chanyeol is humming when your lips meet again, some melody that’s new and exciting and somehow, it’s already your new favorite song.

#chanyeol scenario #exo scenarios #kpopwritingnet #boygroupwritersnet #kpop scenarios #chanyeol #exo #exo k #park chanyeol

[pinchofsuho]

Conflict of Interest - (Legal!Kai) (M)

Pairings: Kai (Kim Jongin) x Reader

Warnings: Smut + fluff.

Word count: 2,600

NB: i hope you like this! Tell me what you think of it here and share your ideas of what should happen next. 

- Mila

Prequel Part 1 Part 2

Hangovers, they were the bane of your existence. Every time you suffered through one, you fake promised yourself that you’d never drink. Oh, what lies you told yourself. Due to the headache, it didn’t occur to you whom you were sleeping next to you when you woke up, what was more important was getting over the nausea and the pounding headache that you had. As you were massaging your eyelids as you sat up, you noticed that you were in a room that you didn’t recognise. A one night stand, you thought. You had a few of them so you didn’t care what you did last night. Oh no, that’s because you didn’t notice Kai. He was sleeping with his back facing you.

Begrudgingly, you walked to the bathroom. It took a few moments to find where it was since his apartment was fairly big. The apartment that he shared with the other members of EXO. You opened the door, not expecting to see a fully-grown man in the bath playing with bubbles. He gave you a bit of a fright when he saw you.

“Why are you just casually walking in like it’s your home?” A man hissed at you with a confused tone. He couldn’t understand the situation.

“The door was unlocked? How else do you think I got in?” You couldn’t help but respond with a sassy tone.

“You have a point there.” He muttered.

Your hangover was so bad that you were practically drowsy so you didn’t notice whom you were talking to you. It was Xiumin. After having just splashing water on your face and wiping it off with your shirt, you walked back to the bedroom you just came from; you noticed someone up from the bed that you woke up from. It was Kai, obviously but he had his back to you. He was just putting a shirt on when he saw your face through his mirror and you saw his face through the mirror’s reflection.

Shit. You slept with Kai. It only just dawned on you that you also walked in on an EXO member having a bath.

“G-good morning.” You stuttered as you stared at him. As you broke your stare, you quickly got yourself ready. Having heard you, he turned around with his cheeky grin. You couldn’t really believe what just happened.

“Hello, princess. How was your goodnight’s sleep? You sure were tired after our encoun-“

“Stop right there. It shouldn’t have happened, who even fucks an opposition’s client? In your case, why would you fuck your boss’ lawyer.” You told him as a matter of fact.

“If I remember correctly, it wasn’t me who made the first move.”

“Yeah, right.” You shot back as you tried to remember what happened the night before. You couldn’t remember anything except the fact the two of you had sex.

“Honestly.” he said as he raised his hands up as a sign of surrender. “You were pretty much gyrating on me last night. That counts as a hint for me and at no point did you say no to me. C’mon, pretty, I was good, wasn’t I?” he responded with a mischievous smile. He wanted you to praise his efforts at getting you off several times but then again, he knew how good he was. You knew very well that he wasn’t wrong in what he was saying.

A minute passed by with the two of you silent and just looking at each other. Looking at the clock on his bedroom wall broke your eye contact and it was then when you realised that you were late to leave for another court case. You should have left 40 minutes ago. Because of this realisation, you rushed to get yourself ready as much as you with your limited belongings as of that moment. Once you made yourself somewhat presentable, you made your way downstairs to find Kai.

Kai went downstairs to the living room, just so you could have had some privacy. What you didn’t know was that he wasn’t alone. Suho was with him and at that moment, you still hadn’t quite registered that you were in EXO’s dorm apartment. First Xiumin and now Suho. What the boys didn’t know was that Suho was your bias in EXO. When you spotted the two, you went really quiet and all blushed. Despite the fact you were a little late, you decided to go to the living room for a little bit before leaving.

“Hey, pretty, look at you all blushed.” You rolled your eyes as he tried to compliment you but he was under the impression that you were blushing because of him.

Oh no, definitely not.

You tried to conceal it but it didn’t work. You couldn’t help yourself; you went through a huge fangirl moment, squealing incessantly whilst sitting in between the two boys. Whenever you got nervous or really excited, you were not yourself and in this case, let’s just say you forgot all the Korean you knew.

As Suho tried to say “Hey?” you sat there with your eyes wide and your mouth open. Kai reached out and pushed your chin out to close the gaping mouth of yours. It took you a long minute to sort yourself out. “(Y/N), are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m so sorry for that, you must get that a lot and I can’t imagine how it feels when this happened in your apartment.”

“It’s alright.”

It was then when you glanced over at Kai, his eyes were unreadable but he had a tight smile. He might have been jealous. Ignoring that look of his, you quickly checked yourself and decided to move towards the front door so you could quickly catch the train, that was your plan up until Kai got up and jumped over the sofas.

“Let me drive you.” He stated almost proudly as he opened the door for you.

“I can get there myself, you know.”

“I know but the courthouse isn’t too far from here and you’re late so let’s go.”

“Mm sure.” you said reluctantly. You were trying to go in a rush but didn’t want to necessarily still be with Kai. It wasn’t him, it was more of the shame and guilt you had after last night. You could honestly lose your license if the wrong people found out. Only after the case has been decided, you could date him; if he wins, of course.  The two of you hopped into the car and Kai started the car after getting himself comfortable which seemed like ages to you.        

“You’ve got my number in your coat pocket. Just call me, baby.” He whispers seductively in your ear with his hand strategically placed on your thigh. Hearing that gave you shivers down your spine. You stepped out of the car and quickly fixed your hair as you walked holding your files.

—-

A couple of days have passed and you still haven’t called or texted Kai. It’s not that you didn’t want to, it’s just that you were scared and conflicted. You didn’t know where this was going, whether this would be just a hook up situation or a real relationship.

Having been in your apartment on your day off seemed a little boring so, what do you do? Call your mum, of course. It’s been a week and a half since you last properly saw her and spoken to her and you really did miss her. As you dial her number, you thought whether you should get her advice on your situation with Kai. It would be good to get her perspective but better if you concealed his identity.  You wouldn’t want anyone finding out about this.

“Heya darling, how are you doing?”

“I’m great mum, I’m really loving Korea. How have you been?”

You got the pleasantries out of the way after a couple of minutes and, you dove straight into the Kai situation.

“Mmm, what does your heart tell you, dear?”

“Well, nothing as such yet. Actually, that’s a lie; he always calls me cute nicknames and it just makes my heart flutter but the only thing that is pulling me from just being comfortable is the legal side, mum.”  

“Well, honey, do what you have to do because opportunities like these don’t come ‘round every day.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” You sighed.

You spent an hour and a half after that just catching up about your town, friends and television programmes before you got off the phone to let your mum sleep. That phone call really made you miss home. Being in a foreign country and half way across the world was not easy at all.

After having some snacks and binging on your favourite comedy shows, you decided to take your mum’s advice and just text Kai. But then again, you had second thoughts about the legality of it and how ethical it was. Yeah sure, opposition lawyers fucked each other, that was known and accepted but clients? Not so much. One more encounter and then you could decide whether you should end it or continue, you thought as you bit your lip.

[You @ 17:50] What are you doing right now?

[Kai @ 17:50] Waiting on my princess’ demands and wishes ;)

Well, that was fast and smooth as hell.

[You @ 17.52] How charming!

{Kai @ 17:53} That’s me

[You @ 17:53] Why don’t you come over. Here’s my address: 343B Park & Kim Apartment Block, Irwon-dong, Gangnam-gu.

{Kai @ 17:54] I’m on my way.

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, you put down your phone. He could really make you smile and giggle in such a short text conversation. You got up to quickly put on an oversized jumper and some boy shorts before making some easy spicy kimchi ramen noodles soup recipe that you quickly googled. Thankfully, you still had the two main ingredients on deck anyway. Whilst that was cooking, you put on some music and you couldn’t help but check the time several times in just a few minutes. Why did time have to drag so slowly when you eagerly wanted something?

Then you heard your doorbell. Once again, you were grinning so hard as you opened the door. Even Kai was surprised. He smiled back and walked into your apartment after you ushered him in. It was a bit of an unspoken moment but your body language spoke loudest.

“So, precious, what do I smell cooking?” He wonders. 

“Kimchi ramen noodles soup.”

“Interesting.” he says as he nods.

When you decided to check up on the soup, stirring it every so often, Kai came behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist and leant his head on your shoulder kissing your neck a couple of times. You liked his neck kisses, His lips tickled your neck and you wanted to moan but you bit your lip instead. Both of your hips rocked to the music and for once, it seemed like you two were in a relationship rather than just two people who have had sex a few times.

Dinner went really well. Both of you really enjoyed the email and you also had a light-hearted conversation despite the fact you shouldn’t really be talking to him in this way. A few flirts were thrown at each other and by the end of the meal, you two were really happy and getting really close.

“Let’s watch something” you offered.

“Netflix and chill?”

You laughed at his reply whilst blushing and shaking your head. Typical of him to say that.

“Sure. You pick though.” You nodded in approval.

“Be prepared” he whispered into your ear and a shiver travelled down your back giving you an almost euphoric feeling. You could sense what he was insinuating and your lips curled up into a smirk in response. You were craving him more and more.

Kai chose a horror film to watch, you didn’t particularly like horror films but you didn’t think Kai knew that fact about you; after all, he didn’t know that much about you to begin with. A few frightening moments came up on your rather modest television screen. Scared by what’s happening on the TV screen, you hide in Kai’s arms and he looks in your eyes in awe. It’s like he realised how he could be protecting you in that very moment.

He started making the first move by kissing your lips softly and licked your bottom lip.  You were thankful that he did this because you were getting bored of the film. You opened your lips a bit so he could put his tongue inside and have a play fight with your tongue. You let out a moan of enjoyment. His hands travelled from the crook of your neck down to your chest and down to your waist only for it to go back to the chest massaging your breasts over your clothing. You bit your lip and he gave you a hungry lustful look.

He raised your arms as he pulled your t-shirt up, his breath was caught at his throat as he saw you not wearing a bra. Your breasts, albeit not the perkiest, were magnificent in his eyes. He took one look at it and massaged the left as he licked and sucked the right breasts. You arched your back as you moaned and groaned in pleasure. He swapped sides and gave both the same amount of attention before giving you lots of butterfly kisses from your chest and abdomen to your hips.

He kissed you again with butterfly kisses all the way down to your clit where he licked your little button repeatedly. You couldn’t help but tremble in that feeling. Your clit was throbbing and practically calling out for him. You couldn’t hold it in, you were very close to climax.

“Wait, princess.” He told you before he rammed his cock into your rather wet entrance.  Both of the parts were like magnets and you were getting closer to climax as he went on and on. Suddenly, a feeling of euphoria and pleasure washed over as you trembled. It was your fourth orgasm ever. After that, Kai shot his creamy load into you signalling that he too had an amazing orgasm.

“Oh, Kai.” You moaned after your orgasm passed through you. What was odd though was the fact he still got off despite you not having to do anything to him. He must have gotten off whilst he was pounding you. Neither of you really noticed or cared that you weren’t using a condom.

You decided to take a shower so you could clean up after your ‘moment’. After that, the two of you decided to get into your bed and head off to sleep since you both had a long day tomorrow of training and working.

“Call me Jongin, baby.” He told you, obviously feeling much more comfortable with you now.

“Well, Jongin, you are the best thing that has happened to me since I have been here.”

“It shows.” He chuckled, clearly proud that he had this effect on you.

You relished his touch that night. He was perfect and too good to be true. You wanted him.

At the end of the night, you felt something inside of your heart yearn for Jongin. You wanted him as your boyfriend and it was obvious as well that he wanted you as his girlfriend. Conflicted was the word to describe your thoughts as you fell asleep with his arm around you and your head rested on his chest whilst the two of you were in bed together.

#exo #kai #kim jongin #legal!kai #legal!au #kpop #suho #xiumin #kpop fanfiction #Kim Jongin scenario #kai scenario #exo scenarios #exo k #exo m #exo fanfiction #suho exo #exo suho #kim junmyeon #kim minseok #sm entertainment

[solaciummeae]

Keep Me Hanging On | Part 1

MOOD MUSIC

He should have seen this coming a long time ago– five and a half months ago to be exact. It was no secret how he felt about Emma and yet she only ever let him so close. She claimed to have her reasons, none of which he personally bought or accepted. But then this douchebag had the nerve to take her out on a date even if after the blonde had been pretty open about his intentions. 

Everyone else loved Tony Vaughn– he fit in perfectly among their extended circle– too well in fact. Jude had began to feel himself slip into the shadows of his friends. He wasn’t as social and he’d taken to writing music obsessively to vent his frustrations. His phone buzzes from his nightstand and he heaves a grunt of annoyance. There’s no intent within him whatsoever to answer the text. Until the phone begins ringing with the one ringtone he doesn’t want to hear. He watches the glow from the device waiting for his voicemail to pick up. Two minutes pass before the notification pops up– and then there’s a knock at the door. 

“Jesus Chri–” He stops himself, immediately feeling guilt for the curse. A glance at the ceiling, “Sorry Big Man.” He waits for the knocking to stop but it only gets louder. Whoever it is seems to be aiming to wake up all of his neighbors. 

“No its cool, just keep knocking– the whole damn complex can’t hear you or anything.” He mutters under his breath so as not to give up his location. “Judah Brenden Kidd!” His eyes widen in horror. He glances down at himself, his eyes falling shut as the yelling continues. “If you don’t open this damn door right now I’m using my key.” She threatens, already knowing that he’s hiding in there. No one had seen him for at least four days– something was clearly wrong. Emma may be a lot of things but stupid wasn’t one of them. He’d been shutting himself up in his apartment a lot lately. She couldn’t quite figure out the cause other than Anthony who frankly had no qualms with Jude. “Open the door Judah,” She barks. He honestly couldn’t look worse if he tried. Shaving had flown out the window about a week ago. He needed a shower and a change of clothes pretty bad. Why had he given her that stupid key? If he’d known it would backfire this way, he’d never have done it. Regardless of the threats that have been issued to him, he can’t bring himself to willingly face her. He knows she’s a woman of her word, and sure enough, he isn’t able to finish the thought before the front door slams and she marches into his bedroom. Amazing the way he can’t help but find her angry expression somehow beautiful.

She’s livid as she comes to a stop in front of him. That’s just before she takes in the sight of him and his bedroom. She wants to stay angry– she fights to hold onto the quiet rage but almost immediately she softens. She recognizes this kind of behavior and can’t help but wonder what could have possibly turned sunshine Jude into a depressive recluse. 

Her mouth hangs open as she wills herself to say anything– but nothing sounds right in her head. She wants to fix whatever is wrong because she can’t stand to see him this way. He’s the one person she’d never want to experience this type of mindset. It was one of the main reasons she’d never even entertain the idea of being anything more than friends. She wouldn’t be the one to bring him down.

He sighs, as she stands there seemingly unable to speak. “I wish you wouldn’t look at me that way.” She closes her mouth and glances away, motioning to him. “Do you think you could– you know?” She’s doing everything to not cover her eyes. She doesn’t need the visual, she doesn’t need the feelings that come with the inevitable staring should look at him. “Put on a shirt!” She finally spits, squeezing her eyes shut. He rolls his eyes with a snort, his eyes darting around the room for any shirt resembling clean. He settles for the shirt he’d taken off last night. He wants to call her a child but he’s not one to push her boundaries. 

Sometimes he feels as though he’s known her for years and knows nothing about her after all this time. All of the things that make her uncomfortable– and the reasons for those triggers for example, are subjects that plague his mind incessantly. “Why are you here?” His words come more sharply than he’d intended. “Are you fully clothed?” She asks, ignoring his question in favor of her own. His patience with this woman– once strong is now diminished. “Yes! Answer my question!” He snaps abruptly. He just wants to be left alone. The love he holds for her is beginning to drive him to madness. The hurt radiates from her slate eyes as she finally looks at him again. “I came because I was worried– is that alright with you?” Her husky voice comes, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s defensive and his behavior sets her on edge. She’s too familiar with this kind of thing, she knows what’s coming. People always leave anyway. First Gerard, then Everett– gone and never coming back. She’s quickly coming to the conclusion that she can add the name of one Judah Kidd to that list very soon. 

“I shouldn’t be here, you’re right.” She concedes before he can reply with something just as harsh. “Hey do me a favor– when you walk out of my life– don’t say goodbye– makes it a lot easier to move on.”

“Emma, come on–” This just got way more serious than he’d intended for it to. His voice already pleading before he can speak more than a few words. If he’d known she was going to jump to that conclusion he wouldn’t have been so short with her. But he’d pushed her too hard. Did she really think he was even capable of not being in her life? In his mind he screams at her of just how much he’s been in love with her from the moment he met her.

“No– I’m tired…” She stops him. “I came here because I was worried about you, and its clear that I should be– but its also real obvious what you want here. Or perhaps– what you don’t want.” She adds, her voice conveying the betrayal she feels. 

“I won’t let the door hit me on the way out.” She finishes turning to leave his bedroom and likewise get as far away from here as possible. She can feel her insides vibrating with very real fear that this will be the last time they talk for a long time to come. “You have no idea what I want!” He calls out to her, immediately picking up speed to stop her from leaving. He just barely catches her arm to stop her from opening the door to exit. He moves out of the way just as she maneuvers to jerk away from him, her elbow just missing his stomach. “Why is it that you’re always running away from me?” He demands, his voice almost a whine as he begs for her to just give in to him. She turns to face him, regardless of the promises she’s already made to herself. She’s not going to wait around to be left this time. She’s going to do the leaving so that at least she can say that. Her mind is so clouded with all of the things it already believes to be true. He acts this way sure– but guys like him didn’t work out with girls like her. It would never last. Better to end it before it gets complicated. She’s not even certain she believes a word he’s ever said in reference to romantic inclinations toward her. “I love you Emma– why would I ever leave you? I am in love with you. I have been for as long as I can remember– but you never give me the chance to show you–” Again his voice is sharp but he isn’t desperate. He’s determined he might just keep talking until she finally sees reason. He doesn’t care how long it takes, or what he has to say to make her understand how real this is for him. 

“I know you’re scared, and I know that no one has ever treated you right– and I know you don’t want to end up like your parents.” He pauses, the frustration creating pressure in his chest. As he looks down at her, he worries that he’s already lost her. “The truth is…I couldn’t leave you if I tried because I would never want to.”

To say she’s stunned by his small speech would be the grossest understatement. She blinks a few times if only to remind herself of where she is and what is happening. The last time someone said anything like this– they were gone before she could even get used to the feeling of being in love. 

Suddenly she wants to sob; an urge that runs so deep she must force herself to look away from the staring contest before her. Oddly, the most prominent emotion within her is anger– driven by fear of course– but anger none the less. She doesn’t even know what to say, she’s fairly certain she isn’t even in a condition to be driving at this point.The tears begin streaking down her face as she glares at the wall of his dining area.

“Emma…” He finally urges her softly. “Say something..please…” She shakes her head violently, refusing to even bring her eyes back to his. The problem isn’t that she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings– quite the opposite. In fact, a great deal of her anger is cast inward at herself for allowing herself to feel so deeply for him. 

She just can’t. He has to understand why. He knows about her parents, her exes, and her illness– and that was just the short list. She can’t even bring herself to show him the darker side of herself, she couldn’t take it if he saw her like that. Not one to normally take such a risk, but she forces the truth from herself– while turning to face him. “You don’t know what its like– what I’m like– it gets bad and I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of me or the messed up brain God gave me.” She tells him, fighting to keep her voice from going out as she explains herself. “I can’t– I can’t lose you like the others.” There she was– the same broken girl she’d always been. So broken, she’s sure she doesn’t deserve to be happy with someone else-- let alone someone like him. “I’m not one for suicide but if things went south and you left– I’d wind up in a hospital.” She explains. “That’s not a threat– just how it is…” “You’ve never seen the real me– you don’t know what you’re saying…” She finishes, her voice calling flat and dead.

He can’t possibly imagine what its like to be her; to go through all that she does on a regular basis. However, of one thing he is certain. It couldn’t possibly change the way he felt– he wouldn’t let it. Still, her response leaves him feeling powerless. It’s as if there’s nothing that he can say that would be enough to prove himself to her. 

“Then let me– let me in…you can’t fail me without giving me a chance.” So now he’s a little more frantic. He knows that if she walks out that door, she won’t come near him for who knows how long. “Emma– please… Look at me– do I look like I’ve been doing very well without you in my life as it is?” This time his request is quiet– calm as is his normal nature. At first, she can’t help the disgust at how he could be so selfish, but then she thinks on the question. He does look like he’s been having a pretty rough time. She has a hard time believing it has anything to do with her; but he looks like shit. “That doesn’t make any sense.” She challenges, still unwilling to give up the fight. He’s about ready to lose it. He’s so close to the edge that he almost welcomes the idea because then she’d see him at his worst. Maybe if she saw him that way she’d give him a chance. The fact that he even considers it shows the damage of his deterioration without her. She’s just looking up at him; so damn defiant all the time. 

A stupid idea crosses his mind and he leaps on it before giving the consequences proper appraisal. His eyebrows furrow as he concentrates on not messing this up. Then again– this could be the nail in the coffin, but he’s running out of options. He steps closer to her, his arms finding a firm place around her waist before she has the chance to step back. He wasn’t without his own line of exes; all of which Emma paled in comparison to concerning difficult women. “Don’t– fight me anymore.” He commands gently, just before her pushes his luck and presses his lips to hers.

For some reason, the precursor instructions right before he kisses her seem to resonate with her. She feels as though she can’t protest, or maybe she just doesn’t want to. Its awkward at first to say the least. She’s spent so long putting these notions out of her head that she doesn’t know how to show him physical intimacy without feeling self-conscious. 

He seems to sense her hesitance and releases her just enough to look at her again. As she opens her own eyes, she finds herself somehow losing the battle she’d been winning only moments prior. “I’m sorry–” She apologizes. She’s not sure what for– perhaps just for herself and her actions. “Don’t.” He quiets her. “You have every reason for feeling how you do. I know why you don’t trust me. Its okay–” “No, its not.” She stops him. “And I do trust you.” She corrects him. “I just don’t trust love because it never seems to last.” She admits in the spirit of being honest. He hasn’t released her from his hold and its quickly becoming a little too comfortable. She finds herself warming up to the idea of trying one more time. 

In the back of her head a voice reminds her that the consequences of failure would be devastating. She ignores it. She’d be more than content to tell him how much she’s wanted this– that she might very well be in love with him too, but it seems too soon.

“That’s okay too.” He repeats. So long as she doesn’t try to leave him for good, he’s content to take on anything she can throw at him. He’s always been the most calm and patient of his brothers. And why shouldn’t he be? The woman of his dreams has been standing in his arms for the better part of five minutes. Moreover she hasn’t even slapped him or yelled at him. She exhales, giving up on the idea of easing into this. If he wants the real her– she’d prove him wrong. “And I do–” She starts, the frown deeply etched into her features. “Love you…” She finishes, her eyes falling between them. He doesn’t let her look down, a hand immediately raising her chin back up again. “No more running away from me– remember?” He questions, his eyes searching out hers with a newly found sense of hope.

“Right…” She agrees, her eyebrows pulling together in focus. However, it’s all lost when he invades her space once more. His facial hair brushes against her skin as their lips connect again and she’s reminded that he’s a mess. A knowing smirk, tugs her mouth from his and he pulls away to look at her in confusion. “We really need to get you and this entire place cleaned up–” She informs him, the smile still in place with a shrug. “Really your excuse for it all is pretty lame anyway. Who falls apart over a woman like this?”

“Clearly you don’t know her like I do.” He retorts. “Don’t worry– I’ll educate you.”

#indie rp #indie drabble #fandomless drabble #fandomless rp #i cant even call this a starter #muse: emma #muse: judah #relationship: could this be out of line; to say youre the only one #drabbles: emma #drabbles: judah #series: i will go down as your lover; your friend #verse: original