You hated him, you really did. Him and his stupid adorable face, his fluffy hair, and that little smirk of his when he knew he was being coy.
“I need some air,” you mumbled, throwing yourself out of your chair and scurrying out of the studio. You let the door close quietly behind you and leaned against the wall, sucking in lungful after lungful of the cold night air, banging your head against the brick wall behind you.
“Fuck you, Sebastian,” you mumbled under your breath.
Problem was, that was exactly what you wanted him to do. You’d imagined every scenario possible, every position known to man, every little thing that Sebastian could do to you, every way he could make you scream and moan and gasp for air. You’d imagined it all.
You had no idea how you had ever thought you could be that man’s assistant and not fall head over heels in love with him. He was evil.
Two months after the news broke that Chris Pratt was no longer single, you had settled into a new schedule. Normally, you jogged alone in the mornings; now, two of your best friends accompanied you, the three of you carrying mace if there were ever a rogue paparazzo. As much as you liked going to the local grocer, you placed your order online, and an hour later, the doorbell was ringing. The blinds remained mostly drawn and, at night, only two or three lamps were turned on.
Thankfully, you weren’t bothered too much at the school. Mainly because the school didn’t allow journalists or paparazzi on the property at any given time. You made a mental note to thank them in a special way.
The students, however, were a completely different story. They were eleven and twelve years old, and they definitely knew who Chris Pratt was; mainly because of Marvel casting him as the lead in Guardians of the Galaxy. Well, that and the upcoming movie; Jurassic World.
Seeing how you had the inside scoop, the group of children had been relentless in their thirst of all things Guardians and Jurassic World. After what felt like hundreds of questions later, you made a new classroom rule; one question about Chris Pratt a day. Not one question per student per day, one question from the group every day.
While most of your life and routine had changed, one thing remained constant; your nightly talks with Chris, and tonight was no different.
“Guess what,” Chris chuckled low in his throat.
You were on your back, legs dangling off the bed. “What?”
“You have to guess.”
You gave a soft hum as you pretended to think about what he wanted to tell you. “I don’t know.”
“That ain’t a guess, darlin’,” he teased, the baritone of his voice bringing back memories of the long nights in Hawaii.
“Alright, alright,” you huffed in faux irritation. “You’re almost done filming?”
“Close,” Chris cooed. “We actually wrapped earlier this morning.”
Your heart started hammering in your chest. “Yeah? So… what does, uh, what does that mean?”
The doorbell chimed moments after he said, “You tell me.”
Summary: You refuse to back down from a playful bet between you and Jeremy. Word Count: 874 Warnings: Fluff and light language Author’s Note: Written for @i-dont-do-rpfs Spring Has Sprung Challenge. My prompt was Cool Mornings, Warm Afternoons. GIF found on Google Images
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
“You’re only going to bring a sweatshirt?” you asked Jeremy, your boyfriend of the last three years.
Jeremy smiled and shot you a wink. “It’s spring, babe. It’ll be warmer this afternoon.”
Peering outside, you shook your head. “Looks like it’s going to be cloudy all day.”
He was chuckling low in his throat and kissing the side of your neck after sweeping your hair to the side. “Trust me,” he purred. “You’re not going to need it.”
You leaned into him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Shall we make a wager on that, Jer?”
“It’s pointless, I’m gonna win,” he teased, his voice low as he started rocking, holding you tight to him as he did so.
“How about,” you started, turning in his grip and wrapping your arms around his neck, “if I win,” a press of lips to one cheek, “you have to help me,” a chaste kiss to his other cheek, “plan M/F’s baby shower.”
Jeremy chuckled in the back of his throat, his hands sliding around to rest right above your ass. “And if I win,” he kissed your forehead, “you have to let me,” another kiss to the end of your nose, “host poker night next week.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, tipping your head back, squealing when Jeremy nipped your neck. “Oh, it’s on, Renner.”
Two hours later, the pair of you finally reached the destination Jeremy had mapped out for hiking. At first, you had taken it in stride, walking mostly uphill, in rough-ish terrain, wearing a backpack that housed the items you’d planned to eat. But then, about an hour ago, the clouds had parted, showcasing the high-in-the-sky-sun. That was when sweat started to slide down your spine.
You hadn’t said anything, you couldn’t, if Jeremy heard you complain, that meant you lost the bet. You didn’t want to deal with cigar smoke and raucous laughter until the early hours of the morning. Not that you didn’t enjoy Jeremy’s friends, you got along with everyone perfectly. But, your home was your sanctuary, untainted by poker night. It was silly, really, you felt dumb even thinking about it.
After carefully dropping the pack to the ground, you used the back of your hand to wipe the sweat from your brow. Jeremy turned around, wearing a big smile, not even a drop of sweat on his face, the bastard.
“You okay, baby?” he asked, a joking lilt to his voice.
“Fine,” you answered, forcing a smile. “It’s beautiful up here, huh?”
With a shake of his head, Jeremy chuckled. “Why do you think I picked it?”
“Because you like to see me suffer,” you mumbled, desperate to rip off the sweatshirt, but not giving in.
“What was that?” he asked over his shoulder, shaking out the large blanket.
“Nothing important,” was your huff of an answer. Taking hold of your backpack, you trudged over to your boyfriend, got on your knees, and started unpacking the food.
You didn’t eat much, not with the sun washing you in her heat, driving you to drink the remainder of your water. Jeremy tried to get you to eat more, but you declined, saying that the large breakfast he had cooked had been plenty to tide you over until early afternoon.
Jeremy kept shaking his head and shooting you playful winks when you would wipe away the sweat on your forehead, pushing it up through your hair, and blowing out a rough breath. You were pushing it, staying in the sun, wearing a sweatshirt that was too thick, but goddamn it, you were stubborn.
When Jeremy suggested the two of you head back, you about wept in relief. Jeremy packed everything up, offering to take the pack you had worn on the trek up, grabbed your hand, and suggested taking another path.
“There’s plenty of shade,” he said, a concerned look in his eyes.
“I’m fine, Jer,” you lied with a tight smile.
You knew he didn’t believe you, but Jeremy didn’t say anything further, not for several long minutes, that was, and that was because you stumbled when dizziness threatened to overwhelm you. With his arms around you, he helped you sit down, cupped your face in his hands, and huffed loudly.
“You’re as stubborn as a mule,” he admonished, shaking his head.
“You love it,” you sassed.
Jeremy arched his eyebrow. “Take off the sweatshirt, sweetheart,” he instructed sternly.
Your head twitched in disagreement. “I’m fine, Jeremy,” you repeated your previous lie.
“No,” he argued. “You’re not. Now, take off the sweatshirt. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“But, the bet,” you whined. You didn’t have the power to fight him as he raised one of your arms, pulling it free from the sleeve.
Jeremy huffed in laughter, your other arm slipping free a moment later. “The bet is off. It’s not worth you killing yourself.”
“Oh,” you sighed. “Thank God.”
He tucked the shirt into the pack and grabbed a bottle of water, which you greedily drank. “Now, are you ready to admit that I was right?”
Despite being lightheaded, you laughed hard, your head falling back, resting on the tree behind you. “Oh, honey. It’s like you don’t know who you’re talking to.”
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