#he said he was gonna give us feedback on monday/tuesday
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Yours Submissively ~ Compromise
Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis
Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.
And she has no idea.
Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, loss of virginity, (and a bunch of others that will come up)
A/N: the taglist is open!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated
Previous: Hindsight
Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist
Riding in the SUV Monday morning, Belle was lost in her thoughts. She and Steve had spent the remainder of the weekend in bed or moving her stuff from her room to his.
“I’ll have someone come in and make a bigger closet for us,” Steve said as he placed her dresses on the rack.
“What’s a matter? Don’t like everything stuffed in here,” Belle teased. “I don’t need these gowns in here when I don’t go to these events a lot. We can keep it in the other closet. Besides,” she huffed as he struggled with her jackets, “I still have my apartment and my clothes there. Its not like…”
“What are you saying?” Steve stopped in his tracks.
“I have my own place, Steve. I’m just here on the weekends so I just need to leave what I need in your room.”
“But I want you here.”
“And I want to be here but I do start work on Monday.” Belle reached up and touched Steve’s face. “Don’t want you to be sick of me.”
Steve kissed her softly. “But I lost you for a month.” He mumbled against her lips. “Need you here.”
“I know amore. I’ll be here every Friday until Sunday.”
“Monday.”
“Steve...”
“C’mon Belle.”
Belle sighed. “What will I do for lunch and clothes and stuff?”
“Mrs. Lewis can make you lunch. And the closet can be sorted out. Bucky can run you to work. Please Belle, please. Stay with me.”
Belle paced away as she folded some of her clothes. She thought for a moment. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stay until Monday but you come stay with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Bucky is not going to agree.”
“Bucky is gonna want to stay. Which he already does with Lila. Compromise Rogers.”
“Since when do you call me Rogers?”
“Since when are you this clingy? Friday night, Saturday night Sunday night here. Tuesday night and Thursday night with me. That only leaves Monday and Wednesday on our own. To do the things we have to do by ourselves.”
“Like what?”
“Like grading papers for me or if you have to have long meetings. I promise, I’m not going anywhere but this works.”
Steve crossed his arms and looked at his girlfriend. Girlfriend. That was the first time he even thought about her status. “Fine. Deal.”
“Pleasure negotiating with you Mr. Rogers.” Belle extended her hand for him to shake. He took it and pulled her closer.
“We agree with a kiss, Miss Davis, not a handshake.” He dipped her and kissed her hard, leaving her breathless.
Monday came and Belle woke up to the smell of food in the air. She stretched and rolled onto Steve’s chest. He sighed and wrapped his arm around her. “Go back to sleep Belle.”
“Can’t. Hungry.”
Steve chuckled. “Mrs. Lewis must be baking this morning.” He kissed the top of her head and looked over at the clock. 630 AM. “What time do you need to be at work, sweet pea?”
“Orientation is at 9.” She yawned.
“Perfect. We have some time.” Steve rolled them over, so he was on top of her. “I can have a snack before breakfast.”
“Didn’t you have enough over the weekend?”
“Enough of you? Never.” He started to kiss that spot he knew on her neck, causing her to arch her back. He ran his hands over her silk top, teasing her nipple as he moved further down.
“Steve, we don’t have time,” she panted.
“We have time for me to make you feel good, sweet pea. Let me make you feel good.” His hands slipped under her shorts and panties, swirling around to spread her wetness around. “Besides, your body is telling me you want this.”
“I always…shit…always want you. Ahh,” she cried as he sank a finger in her.
“Good, because this belongs to me, got that princess?” The switch he flipped was sudden and hot.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?” As he twisted his fingers in her, drawing out a long cry of pleasure
“Yes sir!”
Steve pumped his fingers, his thumb rubbing her clit, his cock throbbing for release. “Cum for me princess. Cum all over my fingers.” He rubbed against that sweet spot in her cunt as she cried out her release. He worked her through the pulses, bring her down before removing his fingers and licking them clean. “So sweet. but I need you still.” He pulled down her panties and shorts and made quick work of his own pajamas. In one move, he was in her.
“Oh Stevie,” she wailed. He moved slowly in her, enjoying her warmth.
“So tight, god no matter how many times I'm here, I love it.” He was slow but thrusted hard, causing Belle to wail each time.
“Baby please!” Belle cried. Steve could feel her squeezing him hard and he sped up his hips.
“Let go baby. Do it for me.” Belle cried again as she came, and Steve released into her, “Fuck!”
He slowed and caught his breathe on top of her. “Are you ok?”
“I’m perfect.” Belle smiled. “Best wake up call.”
“Hmm, I love you.” He kissed her slow.
“I love you.”
Belle exited the master suite after a shower and getting ready for work and almost ran into an older looking woman. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s quite alright Miss Davis. I was just going to gather the dirty laundry. Can I get you anything?”
“How... how do you know my name?”
“Oh, apologies. I’m Mrs. Lewis, Mr. Rogers’ housekeeper. Its nice to meet you.”
“Its nice to meet you too. Sorry for, uh, using your supplies.”
“Nonsense. I always leave the pantry stuffed just in case. Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers usually eat out but I've been glad to see they have been getting home cooked meals.”
Belle blushed involuntarily, enjoying the company of another woman who was not after her boyfriend. “Well, your kitchen is amazing.”
“Thank you. Did you need anything?”
“I was just going to make breakfast.”
“Oh, I have fresh muffins on the counter. Would you like anything to go with that? Eggs, omelet, pancakes?”
Belle wasn’t sure what to say when Steve walked out, fresh shirt and crisp slacks but missing his tie and jacket. “We’ll have some scrambled eggs and bacon, Mrs. Lewis.”
“I’ll be right there. Let me grab the clothes.”
“Thank you.” Steve smiled at the woman before turning to Belle. “Coffee, sweet pea?”
“Umm, sure. Yes, ok, coffee,” she rambled. Steve chuckled before silencing her with a kiss.
“It’s ok my Belle. Breathe.”
Belle took a deep breath. “Was not expecting to meet new people first thing in the morning.” She started to walk to the kitchen.
“What are you going to do when you get to work?” Steve teased
Belle stopped. “Oh god.”
“Ok I’m sorry sweet pea I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re going to be great today. And you can always call me if you need too.”
“Ok, right.” Belle closed her eyes. “Its fine.” She continued towards the kitchen, tripping on her feet.
“You ok there, sweetheart?” Bucky called as he came out from his room.
“I’m fine,” she squeaked. “No problem. Just meeting new people, new job today. I’m fine.”
“Oh lord.” Bucky laughed. “Think she’ll make it, Steve?”
“Too soon to tell,” Steve replied, smirking at his girlfriend.
That got her to open her eyes. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just need food and coffee.” She sat at the island in the kitchen as Steve prepared their coffees. Mrs. Lewis came back in started cooking as Belle sipped the precious caffeine in front of her. Her phone buzzed.
SL: Ready for the first day
Belle smiled and typed out a reply.
B: as ever.
SL: coffee before work?
B: can’t today. Maybe Thursday?
SL: Sure. see you at work fellow teacher
“Who was that?” Steve asked, taking a sip.
“The secretary from the school. Confirming my schedule.” Belle didn’t know why she lied. She knew Steve has an issue with Scott about the way he had treated her in the past. She just didn’t want to add to the drama.
Mrs. Lewis served breakfast to the three of them and they ate while having small talk. As Bucky dropped Belle off in front of the school, Steve pulled her in for one last kiss. “Have a great first day sweet pea.”
“Thanks, hot shot. Rule the world for me.” She winked and smiled. She climbed out with her bag and her lunch that Mrs Lewis provided. She went in and headed straight for the office. “Hello, I’m Isabella Davis.”
“Oh Miss Davis, welcome,” a lady with blonde hair pulled into a severe bun. “I’m Christiana Smith, the school secretary. Here is your schedule for training. You and the other new teachers will be meeting down in the auditorium, just here.” She pointed to a spot on the map. “I’ll be here to help with what I can but you’ll be meeting the headmaster first.”
“Ok, thank you Miss Smith.” Belle headed for the auditorium and found a few desks set up with books and papers neatly piled. She as looked to see if any were occupied, a hand grazed her back. “Hey Belle.”
“Hi Scott,” she sighed with relief. “How are you?”
“Good, excited for this training. Hope told me to tell you hi.”
“How is she? Is she liking Columbia yet?”
“Yeah, summer school just started, and she likes keeping busy. Says she’ll be done with law school in two years instead of three.”
“I believe it. Umm, where are you sitting?”
“Right in the middle, so I can focus. Sit next to me.” Scott pulled her to the front, and they sat chatting until an intimidating man walked in with Miss Smith.
“Good morning, new teachers. My name is David Zolinski, headmaster for the Manhattan School of the Arts. Thank you for coming in for training. The next couple of months will be just to get you into how we want to shape the student’s education. We are a non-traditional environment for learning so be open to how you teach our students.”
The day was about how the school was founded and how the school is paid for. The elite of New York sent their children here and Belle was eager to get to teaching side. Lunch was easy with Scott getting lunch from the school and eating with Belle before the day was called and Bucky was waiting outside for her to take her back to her own apartment.
“So, how was school?” Bucky teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Boring. All lectures on how the school was founded and what the foundation we need to set for the students. All blah,” Belle said.
“How was Scott?”
“How did you know about him?”
“Lila.” Simple answer.
Belle sighed. “He’s fine. Was telling me about the shit Hope is going through in law school. He’s going to be teaching 2nd grade while I’m teaching 1st.”
“So you’ll be in the same circle?”
“Yeah.” She saw the sideways glance Bucky gave her. “I’ll tell Steve tomorrow at dinner. I don’t know how immersive we’ll be in each other’s curriculum.”
“Whatever you say. Just remember what he did to you.”
“That was months ago and he’s with Hope now. Like in love with her.”
Bucky walked her up to her apartment. Lila had also started her new job but it was more traditional hours. “Wanna a snack?”
“No, have to get back to the office. Steve has a meeting with investors at some hotel. Will be working late. Will you be ok?”
“Yes James.” Belle rolled her eyes. “The building does have a doorman and I’ll lock the door.”
Bucky smiled. “I’m just doing my job sweetheart. I promised remember?”
“I remember. Thank you.”
The remainder of the day was quiet, with Belle just cooking dinner for herself and Lila and then organizing her room so that Steve could have a place for his things when he stayed over. The next day was more of the same except she got to walk to work this day with Steve having an early morning meeting. But she texted him and Bucky when she was safely inside the school.
“So Belle, about coffee?” Scott asked.
“Yeah, Thursday, meet at the shop or?”
“No, I’ll meet you at your place. Hope and I were over on the weekend so I know where it is.”
“Perfect.”
Tuesday night was sweet, Steve having picked Belle up after school and having dinner at a quiet little bistro. He looked so oversized in her smaller apartment but made himself right at home. Lila and Bucky joined them in the living room for a glass of wine and going over their days. Belle mentioned that Scott was working with her again. Steve said nothing, keeping his face neutral at the news. He was fuming underneath, not liking how close Scott was getting to his girl, again.
Wednesday morning and Belle was putting the finishing touches to her hair when the doorbell rang. “That’s strange,” she mumbled.
“You expecting anyone sweet pea?” Steve was still in his pajamas but no shirt.
“No, hot shot. Could you get that for me?”
“Sure, sweet pea.” Steve made his way out to the front, flipping the coffee maker on his way. He ran a hand in his hair to tame it and opened the front door. Shock and jealousy ran through his body. “Mr. Lang.”
“Uh, Captain, sorry Mr. Rogers. Hi. Wow. Sorry. Good morning.” Scott could only see the muscles in front of him.
“Can I help you?” Steve tensed at the man in front. The man who had assaulted Belle and then insulted her. He remembered the tears, the heartache, the pain Belle was in from his actions.
“I was picking Belle up so we could go for coffee.”
“Then by all mean, come on in,” Steve said, keeping his tone even. “Let me get Belle.” He moved back to Belle’s room. Belle was slipping on her shoes.
“Who was at the door?”
“Scott.” Steve tensed his jaw.
“Scott? What is Scott doing here?” Belle was surprised.
“He said you had a coffee date. Am I missing something?”
Belle cringed. “That was supposed to be tomorrow.”
“We’re keeping secrets now. Didn’t realize.” Steve moved to grab his shirt and his bag.
“No! No, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you but I know how much you disapprove of Scott. But I have to work with him and I thought it would be easier if we just…”
“Just what Isabella. See him on the side?”
“No! I just didn’t want you to be worried or mad. He’s my friend amore. Just my friend. Please don’t be angry.” Belle moved so he was right in front of her. She laid her head on his chest. “Don’t be mad, please, love. Please?”
“I can’t do this right now Isabella.” Steve grabbed his bag and went to Lila’s room. “Bucky! I’m taking a cab to the apartment. I’ll wait for you there.” He turned and headed back to the front. “Mr. Lang,” he said gruffly before exiting the apartment, leaving Belle shocked in the doorway.
“Everything ok?”
“I said Thursday Scott not Wednesday.” Belle turned her anger towards him.
“Oh. My bad. I didn’t mean…”
“You never mean to do anything. Can you just… just go. I need space.” Belle turned to her room and slammed the door. She crawled into her chair, tears now free falling. She pulled her phone and messaged Steve.
B: I’m so sorry.
SR: We’ll talk about this later.
B: Please come back
SR: I’ll see you on Friday Isabella
NEXT
Taglist:
@patzammit
@texmexdarling
@slutforchrisjamalevans
@firephotogrl74
@tinkerbelle67
@before-we-get-started
@bunnyforhim
@alexakeyloveloki
@sunnyhummingbee
@whiskeytangofoxtrot555
#andy's hea#andy's shenanigans#yours submissively#chris evans fanfiction#steve rogers au#steve rogers smut#steve rogers fanfiction#Steve Rogers x OFC#Bucky barnes#chris evans#mcu fanfiction#Steve rogers#steve rogers imagine#chris evans au#avengers au
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it's past 11 pm, there's two days left until my finals (all but one) are due, one of my professors has STILL not given us feedback on our pitches, WHICH ARE DUE IN LIKE 48 HOURS, so we're all fucking scrambling to attempt to put our final products together??? like how are we supposed to turn in our finals when we're getting no feedback on what needs to be changed???
#the funny thing is#he said he was gonna give us feedback on monday/tuesday#and then this morning said he would give us feedback TODAY#bestie today is about to turn into tomorrow#and the best part is /j#WE'RE NOT GETTING AN EXTENSION#so we all have to hope that we got it right the first time or wait until the last minute#shitting screaming crying throwing up#i'm so upset#i already have too much on my plate ugh#shut up jay#don't go to college kids#sorry for the vent
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Crush
A/N: this one.... biiiitch.... giving you all a little college!harry, he’s so cute 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy hehe 😈 - n + d
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masterlist
pairing: Harry Styles x Reader
warnings: smut. FILTH.
word count: 9.7k
Harry felt a bit creepy.
It wasn’t as if it was on purpose! No... but she was at all of the places he went. At first he had thought it was a coincidence, but as he developed a routine for his classes, he found that they were often around each other for similar reasons. And usually? He would try and go up, introduce himself, and make a friend. The problem was... she was pretty.
Not like normal pretty. Pretty as in, holy fuck you make me so nervous and perhaps I’ll word vomit, pretty. He was shit at making the first move. She was in his Monday and Friday classes and sat not far from him, he noticed. And they always ended up at the Coffee Bean on Tuesday and Thursdays, sitting not too far from one another again. She got tea with a few cookies, and he got a black coffee and an orange scone. They’d work on their coursework and Harry would wait for her to leave and see her make it to her car before he would leave, not wanting to make it seem like he was following her. He’s found out her name through friends stopping in to see her. It was Y/N. Gorgeous, just like her.
Funny enough, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a bit of a crush. Y/N realized in the second week of classes that Harry was in fact one of the most intimidatingly cool and attractive men she’d ever seen. College boys weren’t supposed to look like that, but he was all soft in his sweaters and baggy pants. She wasn’t sure how he pulled it off so well, but she could admit she was jealous.
Seeing him at the Coffee bean was a relief because well, he walked in after her every time. She assumed it was because he had a class that ended later or something, but it didn’t go unnoticed that he was there. Usually it wasn’t too busy or loud so she could glance at him from the corner of her eye as they sat at one of the big tables. She felt like it would be too weird to talk to him, he seemed so... quiet. She’d never heard him speak, hell, she’d only ever locked eyes with him for milliseconds. Y/N wished she could be one of those girls that could effortlessly flirt, ask for a pencil or something, but she knew she’d freeze up and forget her rehearsed line.
Today however, when Y/N arrived, Harry was already there at his usual spot. Okay, Y/N... act natural. She thought to herself, going to order her usual before walking to boldly take a seat across from him. It would have worked out fine if her tote bag didn’t accidentally catch the corner of one of his books, sending things flying.
“Shit— sorry, I—” Y/N swore, setting her bag on the table before bending down to get the book and a few papers and a pen. Real smooth.
Harry was slightly startled when his shit went flying, but when he saw who had knocked it over, his heart picked up. Oh, shit.
“Oh— it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Harry’s voice was a bit gruff from not using it much today, pushing his chair back and bending down to grab the stuff with her. “S’my fault for putting it so close to the edge. I used to do that at home and my cat would knock it all off.”
Great. Already rambling.
Y/N didn’t register it at first, but he was british? Fuck. If she wasn’t already on her knees she would dropped down anyway, biting her lip to stop any noises that could have escaped. She giggled when he said his cat used to knock things over, “mine too.” She mumbled and went to stand up, feeling a tug at her arm.
“Ah, shit.” Harry had caught his ring in her sweater, pulling one of the threads. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” He blushed slightly, knowing how annoying it was to have a pulled thread. His collection of sweaters was immense, thanks to his nan— and he felt terrible. Damn his chunky things. “They always get caught in mine too but I wear them anyways. I can replace the sweater, if you need.” Damn it. He was trying to come off as smooth... not so nervous. But he was. She was so pretty and she was up close, she smelled like peaches and vanilla and a bit of sweet mint and her hands were so soft.
“Oh no, It’s fine! it’s old anyway— I can just cut it off or tuck it in or something.” Honestly, Y/N would figure it out. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad, it was an accident after all. She let him untangle it, holding her hand still though it seemed like he needed some help. “Smaller fingers...” She mumbled, using her nails to get the thread gently off of the ring. “‘s a nice ring.” Y/N complimented, finally meeting his eyes and feeling the breath leave her lungs at the close proximity. Her lips parted naturally, scanning his face for any signs of discomfort.
She was beautiful Harry though he may get sick because wow. Wow. He had imagined holding her hand and kissing her but this exact moment he hadn’t a clue on what to do. So he improvised.
“Are you in the 8 am psych class on Mondays?” He tilted his head. “I know I’ve seen you before.” Oh, he had seen her a lot. Especially in his dreams, day and night. It had been a bit intoxicating, really. At her nod, his grin came on his face. “Sick. S’that what you’re gonna study for?” He didn’t bring up the other class because... it would be embarrassing if she hadn’t noticed him before and he knew all too much. He needed a refill of his coffee though so he grabbed his cup, gently taking her things and placing them on the table next to his. “At least let me buy your stuff though. I feel awful about your sweater.”
“I’m actually just waiting on them to finish making mine, I was on my way to secure a spot but—” Y/N blushed, realizing the mess she had made. “Could you get it for me while you’re up there? It’s for Y/N. I can sit here and watch your stuff.” She felt like that was a subtle way for her to tell him her name.
This was the most she had ever spoken to him and it had been about a month or so that she’d been eyeing him up. She knew he was in her English literature class as well, but psych was her major. Y/N wondered if maybe he too was a psych major, maybe that’s why they sort of had the same schedule? Regardless, she felt a bit nervous making conversation so she spent the time he was away coming up with what she was going to ask him and how she was going to keep the ball rolling. Hopefully she didn’t interrupt his studying, if anything she’d leave him alone.
“Y/N?” He tested it on his tongue out loud for the first time. It tasted good. “Yeah. M’Harry. I’ll be back.” He nodded, going towards the front. His heart going a mile a minute, he couldn’t believe how quickly his luck had changed. He ordered an extra cake pop today, for her. she had said it didn’t matter but to him, it did. Eventually he hoped he could buy her a replacement. Or... maybe she could wear his around. Wow. That would stroke his ego and his fragile heart to the core. He could already see her on his lavender fishermen’s sweater, in front of his fireplace back at home. She would be so cute. The voice calling her name snapped him out of the fantasy, Harry grabbing it and then his own shortly after before returning to the table. “Here. I got the last cake pop for you. Don’t tell anyone I’m the offender.”
“Ooo you’re a dead man if they find out.” Y/N said, looking around before gently taking it from him. “Thank you... that’s sweet.” She blushed, taking a bite of it before taking a sip of her chai latte. Now that she had stuff to fiddle around with she could take a breather and not have to worry about filling space. “But um.. did interrupt something? Don’t want to distract you...” Y/N nodded over to his laptop, secretly hoping that he wasn’t up to much so that she could chat to him. She just wanted to know the basics, literally anything would satisfy her craving. Harry was quite literally her wet dream, she’d been looking all around campus for someone like him to come around. “I uh... I think I’m also in your English lit class? I feel like I see you around often.” Y/N spoke, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your major?” She felt like this conversation was light, something that would eventually lead into other things like... if he was single and looking for a girlfriend.
“Oh, you’re not bugging me. I’ve kind of been staring at the screen and zoning out if m’honest.” Harry chuckled, embarrassed a little to admit it. But everyone could relate to that, right? “And yeah... actually I think so.” He smiled lightly before taking a sip of his drink. Victory! She had noticed him too. He wasn’t the lonely creep who stared at the first who had no idea who he was. She knew who he was, kind of. He gently drew his sweater over his hands like little paws before going to her question. “English. I want to write and stuff, edit maybe. My dad has a publishing company so, I’m lucky I like a bit of the family business.” He tried to joke, looking at her. God. It was unnerving how beautiful and also, how fucking comfortable she was to be around. What a contrast. “And you? What major?” He took a nibble of his scone, not wanting to make a mess.
English? He’s a writer? Goodness. She was going to lose it.
“That’s cool, any specific genre you like to write?” Y/N asked curiously because well, it would actually tell her a lot about him and the kind of person he was. “I picture some mystery or possibly poetry, could go either way.” She said and squinted her eyes as she looked at him, pretending to size him up. “I can’t say I’m all that interesting, a psych major. Just like every other artsy person who doesn’t exactly want to commit to an art degree.” Y/N chuckled, “still deciding between criminal justice or counseling but... either way I’d be happy to get to pick someone’s brain. She did have the habit of analyzing people but only so she could understand them better. Y/N knew that all people wanted at the core was to be understood and loved for who they are, for the most part. Harry seemed reserved, calm and relaxed, secure in himself that’s for sure. It was extremely attractive.
“Oh? That’s really cool though.” Harry was genuinely interested in what she had to say either way. The major didn’t matter in his interest in her but it gave him information and something to talk about. If she was marketing or math he would be just as interested. “Criminal seems particularly interesting. Like that criminal minds show then? You’ll learn how they work and all of that?” He didn’t really know what it meant or why she had chosen it. “But close. I write romance novels.” He blushed fully. “Don’t judge me for it. But s’easy for me and I’m good at it, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been writing for a while.” He felt himself loosen up as they talked. Even if she intimidated him, she was really nice and sweet. “Poetry too, lots of it. But romance is my main thing, I’d like to do novels and that sort of stuff.” He could see she didn’t think it was lame, rather interesting. Which was a major relief. He wanted to impress her, so so badly.
“Sorta, yeah. Like... being able to predict a criminal's next move, psychologically.” Y/N explained and shrugged, “feel like it’s really fun and interesting but terrifying all at once. Dunno if I could actually interview a criminal without feeling like it was going to cry.” She let out a laugh, knowing she was quite soft. Her face lit up when he said he wrote romance novels. Wow. Well, as if he wasn’t a character right out of a romcom himself! She felt like that’s what this was. A romcom. Bumping into him at a coffee shop like a scene straight from one. “Really?! So you’re a proper romantic then? Buy the last cake pop for every girl, hmm?” She gave him a bashful smile. The very last thing she was doing was judge, she was more so thinking about their wedding. Yep. Already. Daydreaming because she swore she’d hit the jackpot. Wasn’t even sure if he liked her yet, but she was hopeful. After all, she’d turned on her charm.
“I guess I am.” Harry smirked to himself slightly at the good reception. Damn. He had been so worried and hesitant- he should have just talked to her. She wasn’t... that scary. Only a little bit.
He let her talk a bit more about her degree and Harry went on to speak about his favorite authors, and then the conversation shifted towards their classes and how he had been struggling slightly in psych— which led to her offering to help. Harry was shocked because honestly he hadn’t expected it from her, but he was pleased. He was happy to have an excuse to hang out with her more. See more of her and be able to teach himself to relax properly around her. He felt like a damn wind up toy, giddy and excited.
“That would be so helpful, if you could. And if you don’t mind.” He stressed. “I have a place off campus, if you’d want to go there? I’ll buy you some pizza or something for your help.” He was a giver and if it meant getting a $20 pizza for her because he wanted good quality, then he would!
“Yeah, that sounds good.” Y/N was practically jumping up and down with joy in her mind, this was a turn of events. She went from secretly crushing on him to being invited over his house in only a few hours. “I can never say no to pizza, but it’s really no problem. They say if you can teach it to someone else then you truly understand it so it’ll be a good test for me. Y/N also knew that they wouldn’t just study. Come on. It was a Friday night and study was practically code for hook up, especially considering he had invited her to his place and not the library. She had to prepare, had to make sure she looked cute and everything. She’d shower before hand too, the whole nine. “I can be there around 6?” Y/N suggested, checking her calendar app even though she already knew when she could come. She had to at least look like she wasn’t jumping at the idea.
“That’s cool. Uh— here, if you want I can put my number in your phone and whenever you want I can text you the address?” Oh, fuck. How, how the tables have turned. He had gone from wistfully staring at her every day to having a scheduled study session with her, the girl he’d been practically having wet dreams about. Having a full conversation and then her having his number! He was giddy and playing with the sleeves of his sweater as a result of the excited nerves. “Do you have any allergies? I do have a kitten at home.” He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to put Marie away. He loved his baby but he wanted to try something and see if she would be cool with him in a private setting. It would be less hard to talk about deeper things without people around. He took her phone from her and typed in his number, adding his name with a little 📚 after it. That wasn’t too much, right?
“Aw you do! I have one too, well... he thinks he’s a big boy.” Y/N shook her head at the thought of her sweet little Milo. Despite not doing anything she planned to do at the coffee shop, it still felt like a productive day in her eyes. Finally getting to chat with Harry felt like a breath of fresh air and he wasn’t all that scary now that she got to chatting with him. She took her phone back and smiled at the cute little emoji, sending him a text to let him know it was her before hesitantly getting up. “Alright well, I gotta get back to my kitten... but, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N smiled, watching him stand up as well. The two of them walked out of the coffee shop and to their cars, Y/N being bold enough to give him a hug before opening her car door. “Night!” She was surprised with herself. Y/N was proud, completely over the moon and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was going to sleep tonight.
-----
Harry laid out on the bed that night with Marie on his chest. He had told her all about how the pretty Y/N had met him and that she would be coming over. The pretty cat was a long haired white kitty, and she purred along with Harry as he spoke. She liked hearing Harry be happy. It made him want to squeak when he heard his phone buzz and a little text from her popped up— he saved her as ‘Y/N 🌼’ because he felt like it fit. Part of him wanted to put a heart but he would be mortified if she saw and thought it was weird. She wore a yellow flower shirt one day so he figured that’s what he could excuse it as.
‘Hey, happy to hear from you! :) I hope your kitty is doing well. I meant to ask, you aren’t vegetarian are you?’
Y/N smiled at his text and attached a photo of her gray kitten laying across the top of her head while she laid down.
‘Yes, he’s quite cozy.’
‘I am actually! But I’m not too fussy.’
She couldn’t help it, she loved animals and she couldn’t bring herself to do it anymore. Occasionally, she would indulge in a chicken nugget or seafood, but for the most part she didn’t feel like she had to.
‘I’m going to get some sleep though, Good night Harry 💓’
That wasn’t too much was it? It was just a heart! She sent them to everyone. Y/N stayed up for a good ten minutes just digesting the day. Tomorrow would be even better, she had a feeling.
——
Harry was... well, he wasn’t sure how to describe the emotion. When Niall inevitably quizzed him on why he was acting strange, the best he had come up with was a mix of nerves and giddiness, also terror and extreme happiness. He was going to hang out with the girl he had been silently crushing on— and they had been texting quite frequently in the short time they had each other’s numbers. Was this going to be a regular thing? Was it going to blossom into more? He knew that he had wasted time before, not talking to her. She wasn’t scary! No... she was so sweet and kind and beautiful and everything she said made him a literal heart eye emoji. She had taken to sending him random photos, even so quickly in and it felt comfortable. He had even sent her a shot of Marie on the counter this morning, on top of his school notes. It was odd. The excitement he felt when he heard the bing from his phone of the vibration in his pocket... it was incredible. He liked this feeling. Damn it. This was such a new thing. He wanted to do more.
He saw her in class, watching as she crept in a bit after the last call should be with a sheepish smile on her face. He waved to her silently and watched her climb up, his heart beating quicker when she chose a seat closer to his than before. She wanted to sit near him? He clutched the rainbow patchwork sweater by the sleeves and fiddled with the cuffs, nerves and excitement swirling in his tummy.
If class wasn’t already on, Y/N knew she would have tried to spark up some conversation with Harry, but for now all she could manage was passing him a note.
‘I like your cardigan :)’
It was really cute. Most of Harry’s wardrobe was and in her dream world she already stole a few to wear. English literature wasn’t exactly the most exciting class, but Harry seemed invested. Y/N enjoyed watching him focus and take notes while she mostly doodled some random flowers and bears in her notebook. Her mind was thinking about what she was going to wear to his house and how she definitely needed a shower before and that she had to put on the lotion that matched her perfume. Was she overthinking this? Maybe. Of course it was just a study date, but you could never be too sure where things could go. And if they did— she wanted to be ready.
He knew that he needed to contain himself but his smile made it hard. She liked his cardigan. The random compliment had him feeling mushy and happy and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks as he clicked his pen and wrote back to her.
‘Thanks :) my nan knitted it for me. I like your little head band.’
He passed it back before opening his notebook back up. Her stare could be felt and he wanted to smirk a little at it because, well, who wouldn’t? She was so great, and he wanted to experience more of her but he was trying to not rush shit. He was a romance writer after all. All of it felt so in tune with his own wants and he had a hard time believing it was real. Sweet little Y/N wanted to hang out with him and she complimented his cardigan!
‘Awe!! That’s cute and thank youuuu 🥰’
She drew him a little smiley face with hearts around it, felt like it was very on brand for her and her emotive texting. Y/N felt all giddy because she had made a new friend but she was really hoping they wouldn’t just be friends.
Y/N knew she was hard to read because she was generally nice to everyone and honestly, Harry seemed to be the same way. She could only assume he liked her because he asked her to hang out so quickly. And he’d bought her a cake pop and was planning on buying pizza tonight. Was it a date then? Gosh, she needed to stop reading into it. Her leg kept bouncing up and down, mind trying to refocus and thankfully, their professor was discussing something she too had noticed in her reading. She still managed to steal quick glances at Harry for the rest of the class, giving him shy little smiles. It wasn’t till class ended that she ended up speaking to him, but even that was quick. She needed to get home and get ready.
Harry had gotten a quick hi, and a ‘see you tonight!’ With her hand brushing his arm before she skipped off to.. wherever she went. And that had him nearly sprinting home. Cleaning top to bottom, vacuum, scrub, vacuum again. Changed his sheets— why, he wasn’t sure— put his laundry in the basket, filled up Marie’s food and water, fluffed the pillows, cleaned the windows and coffee table... he did it all. Even cleaned out the fridge! Like she would care? Harry didn’t know. All he did know was that he was finally showered and smelled nice, hair fixed and the pumpkin patch candle was lit! The tv was on low because he was nervous and needed some filler noise to keep himself from overthinking.
Y/N was doing the same, not cleaning her apartment but cleaning herself. She stripped out of her clothes when she got home and immediately got into the shower, taking one of those full maintenance ones for good measure. Once she was positive she was squeaky clean and smelled nice, she jumped out to take the next steps. God, she really wanted to impress him. He’d been her crush for a while and she needed this. She wanted to look like she didn’t put in my effort when she did so she decided to put on some light makeup and chose an outfit that was more laid back. Usually, she was seen wearing sweaters and jeans, nothing too fancy, so that’s exactly what she settled on. Y/N wanted to look warm and inviting.
Milo mewed beneath her feet as she collected all her study supplies, rubbing against her ankles in need of attention. “I’m sorry bubs, I know I didn’t get to spend lots of time with you today but don’t be too mad.” Y/N pouted, picking him up and giving him a cuddle for a few minutes. She held him up to her chest as she finished up, deciding she needed to leave now.
‘Leaving now, be there in 20 ✨’
She sent, hopping into her car with nerves bubbling up in her stomach. God, she really hoped tonight went well.
——
When Harry heard the knock at the door he shot up, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before forcing himself to be slow, walking to the door. And when he opened it, it really did feel like being hit in the gut. Seeing someone so beautiful, so up close? It got to him. He had to admit that. Y/N has this natural beauty that he drooled over. That felt like a hit. Every time he saw her he swore she got more beautiful.
“Hi.” He spoke with a smile, opening the door up for her. “Come inside. Marie is wandering around so I have to close the door. A little escape artist, she is.” He joked, letting her scurry in and close the door behind her.
“Hey! Oop— okay!” Y/N giggled and stepped past him into his apartment. It was very cute and very tidy. Y/N felt a little flutter in her belly, it was freshly cleaned. She stepped out of her shoes before further examining the decor. The style was something she very much expected for Harry, it was cozy and artsy. Lots of earth tones and that sweet autumn smell coming from the candle made her feel that much more excited. “It’s so nice in here! I love the pillows.” Y/N complimented, liking how some were fluffy and some had funky patterns on them. It was then that she heard a meow from below, Marie sniffing at her sock covered toes. “Oh hi there... sorry if you can smell Milo on me, gave me lots of snuggles before I left.” Y/N cooed down to the kitten, dropping down so she was closer to the ground and extended her hand for her to sniff and get used to.
Y/N realized this was very real now, especially because he had gone out of his way to make his place look nice. Most guys wouldn’t care, but maybe Harry did this for everyone. When she stood back up and turned to face him, she got a whiff of him and noticed his semi damp hair. He showered too. Oh—
Harry smiled at her and Marie, happy his kitten seemed to like her. Usually she would sniff his friends and run off but she began to weave over her legs and beg for pets. He was in awe. Christ. She had him by the balls already.
“Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got diet soda... apple juice, lots of teas. And water.” He hummed, going into the kitchen with her behind him. It was an open concept though, the kitchen the first thing near the door and it opened into a large living area, the hall down going to the master bedroom. It was simple but perfect for him in college. He gave her a moment to think it over as he looked at her. So cozy and... cuddly. He wanted to slide his hands under her sweater and feel her warm skin and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, let her fingers play through his hair.
“Apple juice sounds good.” Y/N smiled, having picked up Marie at this point to carry her into the kitchen with them. She had a feeling she’d get along just great with Milo if they ever got to meet. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N cooed at the kitten, seeing her comfortably settled against her. “Does your Daddy spoil you with snuggles too?” She asked toying with her little paw before looking up at Harry with a smile. He had fumbled a bit with the lid of the juice at her words which made her giggle, “How are you? How was your day today?” Y/N was genuinely curious, deciding to make some small talk before actually sitting down. In her head she could already imagine the two of them hanging out here constantly, tangled up in one another, kissing and laughing and doing all the cute things that Harry likely wrote about in his stories.
“I’m— im good.” Harry’s mouth was dry. He knew that she hadn’t meant anything by it, but he heard her say ‘daddy’ in reference to him, and his stupid cock had jumped, tummy felt hot. Damn it. He wished he wasn’t so deprived but... she had been at the forefront of his mind. “It was a good day. I was happy to talk to you. You’re fun to talk to.” He meant it too. She was so interesting and funny and he was completely whipped and okay with it. Damn. He wished he had maybe a bit more restraint with his imagination but he didn’t. Not at all. “I have a harder time meeting people... i can be a little shy sometimes. I’m in my own head a lot you know? I have my core group of friends but... it’s hard to get to know people. I want to know them.” Her. That translates to her.
“Yeah?” Y/N felt her heart jump. He was happy to speak with her even just a little bit? He wanted to talk to her and get to know her? It wasn’t just a one sided thing. They were both making an effort in their own way and she was thinking someone had to break the tension. “I’m happy you think so.” Y/N blushed, “I um... I also like talking to you.” She had her little friend group as well but she never thought she’d actually end up being friends with Harry. Listening to him explain how reserved he was definitely made her feel special though. He chose to open up to her, she was special enough for that and that made her cheeks grow warm once again. “I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.” Y/N smiled, hesitantly placing Marie down before taking a few steps closer to him to get her glass of apple juice.
“Ooooh, a little daunting. Anything? Your social security number?” Harry was joking. Trying to clear the air and make her relax because she was a bit shy too and he wanted her to be comfortable here. This place should be a good spot for her. He motioned for her to come sit on the couch with him, Marie trailing after Y/N. Little traitor had a new favorite already but... he couldn’t say he could blame her. “I dunno... it’s hard sometimes, in this age to make genuine friendships. Feels like everyone’s already got their friend groups and you don’t want to infringe upon them yeah? And... I write a lot. I’m not a partier. Not to sound cliche but again.... I’m a writer.” He chuckled.
“I said just about!” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head to herself at his joke. She felt like she was an open book, she was pretty open with the things she liked and generally she aimed to spread positivity and love where she could. Her hobbies included lots of things, music, knitting, reading, gardening. That kind of stuff. “But yeah, I get that... I’ve been pretty content with my group of friends, though I think most people are open to making new ones. At least I am... I am a bit shy though.” Y/N took a sip of her apple juice before setting it down on the coffee table again. “Yeah, you said. Romance novels.” She smiled and leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable. “What sorts of romance novels?” What? Could you blame her for wanting to know what sort of content was in them? Maybe it could give her some insight on what he wanted.
“Oooooh. Hard hitting stuff.” Harry huffed out playfully. “I’m... it’s a variety, I think. I’ve done supernatural, classic tropes, historical romance was very fun. I am partial to enemies to lovers or forbidden romances though. They’re the most fun to write.” Y/N genuinely looked like she cared so he continued. “I’ve been trying out different stuff but....” he blushed again. “I’m... looking at erotica right now.” It wasn’t something he usually would blurt out but hey, she seemed trustworthy. Plus she didn’t seem like she would judge either. It was a new favorite of his. The rawness of it and writing sex scenes... it was amazing. Reading it, writing it, he thought he could do some on the side and sell it under a pen name. It would be a fun thing to try.
Erotica. This man sat down and wrote detailed sex scenes, likely kinky, for fun? Thankfully she didn’t have any juice in her mouth because it surely would have been spat out.
“H-how are you finding it?” She asked, reaching for her apple juice because she felt like she couldn’t sit still now. How else was she supposed to go about things when all she could think about was sex. Sex with him specifically. Y/N wasn’t blind, she knew that Harry was very attractive and very much gifted with beautiful hands. She could only assume he would have a wonderful cock as well. She knew there was no way someone so quite couldn’t have the filthiest of minds, she knew hers was. Her fantasies were where she roamed free.
“I mean... I do like it a lot, actually. I hope that doesn’t come across as creepy or pervy but I like to be able to write something like that. It’s freeing, in a sense.” Harry couldn’t really properly describe why but, he was a kinky dude. You’d never think it. He was soft and wore sweaters a lot and drank tea at home from a kitty mug but he was.... a kinky fucker. And he loved sex. There was just something about it. He wanted to try more and more of it but he had a tendency to get attached to his partners, even hook ups... so he had put that on a hault.
“I’d like to read some...” Y/N felt like at some point, she’d want to read his writing. If he felt comfortable now she didn’t mind. It was just writing, wasn’t it?
“You want to?” She looked at him with bright eyes and her a fast nod so Harry decided to say, fuck it. If they were going to work as friends... or lovers, which is what Harry really wanted... she would need to accept this side. He grabbed his laptop and boosted it on, letting himself grab the latest completed scene. “Here. You can read this, i'll order the pizza.” There were obvious nerves in his belly from letting her read filthy smut from his computer but Y/N... she was different. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but she was.
They were meant to be studying.
That was long forgotten though as Y/N nodded and got comfortable on the couch with his laptop sat in her lap. It felt a bit taboo, but she figured she could separate the writer from the story.
The scene was from a male character’s perspective, describing him having a long and hard day at work where all he could think about was his partner. Y/N felt her face get progressively warmer as the character spoke about his partner, she couldn’t help but imagine this was how Harry was when he was horny and needy.
Y/N knew that if she was his, she would certainly brighten up his mood after a tough day at work. Seeing her own name in the document however proved that Harry thought the same. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her eyes lifting from the screen to look up at him as he ordered the pizza completely unaware of her discovery.
This is what he imagined? This is what he wanted to do.... with her?
Harry ordered two cheese pizzas and some cinnamon dessert thing because there was a a special going on. He had thought about getting more but he didn’t want to go overboard with it, so he finished the order. Thank god for online ordering.
“Okay... it’ll be here in 25 minutes I think.” He hummed, looking up and freezing slightly. She looked blushy and her eyes wide as she read the post and he wondered why she looked a bit startled. “Hey... y’alright love?” He asked quietly. God damn it. Had he freaked her out too much? Was it just too much in general for the first time they properly hung out? He couldn’t remember exactly what scene he had pulled up. Just that it was recent, a billionaire type of thing.
Y/N casually moved the laptop on to the coffee table without answering his question. She didn’t think twice before she climbed on to his lap, hands settling on his shoulders. Sure, it was a risky move, but after what she’d read? She felt like she had to make her move. She wanted to be just as hot and sexy as he had imagined her to be. Harry’s shocked expression made her smile, hand going up to cup his cheek.
“You left my name in the document...” Y/N’s voice spoke low and slow, thumb brushing over his now parted lips. Never did she think she could be so bold so soon, but fuck did it feel good. She felt so powerful, so sexy, and so so horny. “Thought about me riding your cock so much you wrote about it?” Y/N whispered, leaning in to kiss the skin just below his ear before nibbling at the skin. “Noticed me before we properly met... thought about me... is this what you wanted, baby?”
Harry blanked.
Oh. fuck.
He hadn’t expected her to climb into his lap. Climbing on and straddling him, cupping his cheek, talking in that hot little voice that had his cock filling a bit. Holy fucking shit.
“Oh—” He was cut off by her thumb over her lip. She was into it, into him. How had this happened? He had to be dreaming. But... no. Her heat was too real to be a dream. Her eyes too clear and dark, her smell too real. It was real. “Y-yeah...” He whispered, gasping when she kissed his skin, hand grabbing her waist. Oh, hell. Under his pants, his cock was quickly hardening. You couldn’t blame him, his dream woman, his crush, was straddling his lap and kissing his neck. Talking like this.
“Thought about it ‘lots.” He muttered. She was so bold for this and that was something he found so sexy. When her teeth scraped his skin and bit down a bit harder, a dark groan left his mouth, hand on her waist tightening. “Holy shit... Y/N.”
“Hmm... feels good?” Y/N questioned, licking over the spot that she bit before moving to a new one. “Think I can make you cum in 25 minutes?” Y/N felt like she could take on the challenge, his cock was already hardening beneath her and she was a bit of foreplay away from being completely soaked. “Wanna try all of it, yeah?” Y/N muttered, nipping at the spot just where his jawline met his neck. “Riding your cock.... you bending me over, can choke me too. Please do...” She moaned at the thought, her hormones completely taking over. He still seemed to be frozen, despite his hand now on her waist so she moved her hips forward a little bit and tugged at his hair. “Wanna make you feel good.”
Y/N had a kink for giving but it seemed Harry did as well. She expected a needy hook up, rough touches, quickness, pure lust. It’s exactly what she needed. It’s been a while since she’d hooked up with anyone and she was desperate for Harry to break her dry spell.
“Ah, shit.” Harry hissed. The tug at his hair sent a shock of hot arousal down his spine. That got him going so quickly. She wanted to fuck? Right now? He would be a fool to say no, and he wasn’t raised a fool. “Yeah? Y’want to ride my cock?” He asked lowly. “Fucks sake... I didn’t know you were so dirty.” He never would have guessed it from her either but... they were here. And he was snapped out of his shock by the tug, and now he was ready to do whatever the fuck she let him. “What did y’want the most, love? Tell me.” He had taken into account that she wanted to be choked, raising a hand to gently cuff her throat, bringing her close to his face. The confidence was soaring now, and all because she was leaking it. She wanted it, desperately. “I said, tell me.” He gave a quick squeeze to her throat. “Want to know what you need.”
“Need your cock, daddy.” Y/N moaned out, eyes blown and glazed over with desire. Y/N could feel the tension in her bones, cunt throbbing and aching to be touched. “Need you so bad, please— wanted you for so long, please make me cum, please!” She pleaded, fully giving into the fantasy. Y/N was never one to hold back and from what she had read, he certainly didn’t want her to. Her body felt like it was on fire, hands grabbing fist fulls of his sweater in hopes that he’d just take it off. Y/N wasn’t sure what type of body would be beneath it, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel his warm skin, lick and kiss all that she could while she worked her magic. Y/N waited for his directions, falling into the submissive role easily despite her initial approach. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna have to re-write that scene.”
Harry was going to give this girl any fucking thing she wanted. He let her guide his sweater off, the cool air hitting his skin not even getting a chance because her hands and mouth were all over him. It was like she had fallen into a heat, and Harry.... he loved it. He placed his hands under her sweater, feeling her hands smooth over his chest as she kissed at his neck and over his jaw. Her skin was hot under the sweater, his hands gripping her waist and smoothing over her hips, going up and sip to her ribs where he realized— fuck.
“Not wearing a fucking bra?” He hissed. “Jesus... you’re a little minx, aren’t you? Off with this.” He spoke lowly, grabbing the ends of it but barely had a shot before Y/N ripped it off of her body. Fucks sake. She was sexier than he had ever imagined. “My god... you’re so sexy, baby.” He whispered, sitting up and burying his face between her breasts. Kissing the hot skin between them, working his way up with the wet, open mouthed kisses to her throat.
“Oh Daddy...” Y/N’s body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth on her, head falling back as she let out a happy sigh. He seemed to like her hand in his hair so she happily gripped at his locks as he scattered kisses over her skin. “Come ‘ere...” She whined, guiding him up to her lips. “Wanna taste your mouth.” Making eye contact with him in this moment felt intimate. All those quick glances in classes and at the coffee shop, all the day dreaming, it all built up to this moment where she fully felt she could let herself let go. The both of them wanted this, it was so reassuring, this was a safe space and they could do whatever they wanted. Y/N’s body rolled forward, pushing him further back onto the couch and angling her hips so she could tease the both of them before she let herself have it. Fuck was he hard... and full. Another moan left her lips, sounding more like a plea and cry for more.
“Fuck me... you’re needy. I love it.” Harry hissed, pulling her mouth to his. It wasn’t soft. No, this kiss... it was hot. Heavy. Her mouth opened and immediately he dragged his tongue inside, meeting hers. She tasted like the apple juice and a bit of mint, and he could groan just from how good it was. Sweet little Y/N wasn’t too innocent at all. “Fuck— keep teasing me like that. S’like you want to end up crying.” He had a feeling now that she did. She wanted his cock inside of her pussy, thrusting in and out and letting herself soak him. Yeah... he wanted it too. “Keep calling me daddy. You’re so dirty. Who would have fucking... known.” He spoke between the kisses, hands going for her jeans. He wanted them off, like hours ago. He was finally going to get her. “M’gonna lay you out in my bed after... first m’gonna fuck you, but M’gonna clean out your cunt with my tongue. And then M’gonna take you again. Yeah?” She has come for studying but was staying for hot sex and he hoped to turn it into a nice marathon. He had all weekend and he was hoping she wouldn’t have to go. He had too many idea for her. “Gonna let daddy lick it up?”
“Fuck— yes, gonna let daddy have his way with me...” She kept her hips rolling against his slowly, keeping the rhythm in check with the passionate kiss they were sharing. Y/N already knew this was going to be the best sex of her life, the kiss alone let her know that. His tongue would work wonders on her cunt and she’d be more than happy to return the favor. Hesitantly, Y/N began to stand to get her jeans off, one of her hands staying put on the back of his neck so the kiss didn’t break. She let him fiddle with the zipper, feeling his fingers hook both her jeans and underwear before yanking them down to which Y/N let out a little squeal.
Y/N knew she had to pull away from the kiss for air but she didn’t want to, waiting till the very last minute until she couldn’t anymore and went to get his jeans off.
“Come on. Be good.” He murmured against her lips, brushing his hips up so she could get his pants off. She tugged and easily they came down, Harry kicking them off as he pulled her back in his lap. His hands gripped her bare ass and groaned when she pushed into them, not thinking twice before pulling his hand back and smacking it the sound rang in the room and she let out the most sexy noise against his mouth, making him hiss. Fuck. He wanted her so fucking badly. This girl... she was everything. One hand went to feel and fuck. Fuck shit, motherfuck, it was wet. She was so, wet. “Jesus— you’re so wet. Baby— holy shit, you’re soaked.” He whispered. “S’cause of me? You wanted daddy’s cock this bad?” He pulled his fingers off slightly, the arousal still stringing to his fingers. He placed them at her mouth and pushed them in. “That’s it. Clean them up, sweet girl. You’re so filthy, y’know that? Precious little thing. So slick and hot, want cock so fucking bad don’t you?” He cooed, feeling her suck on the digits. “Now.... rub it against your pussy. Don’t put it in yet. get it wet.”
Y/N sucked at his fingers as if it were her job, making sure to treat it like she would his cock which included eye contact. She loved looking at him, seeing his hungry expression and his eyes that seemed to say so much more than he did. Even the feeling of her cunt sliding over his cock sent tingles up her spine. It had never affected her this much with other guys, but she assumed it was different with Harry because she had wanted him for so long. Y/N let out a whimper, feeling a gush of wetness accumulate when he pushed his fingers in farther. Harry was hot in ways she couldn’t explain, there were little things he did that just hit the spot and made her want to fuck him even harder. Y/N was practically bouncing on his cock, aching for him to let her have it inside.
“You’re such a good girl. Listening so fucking well.” Harry took his fingers from her mouth, smirking at the whine and slight chasing of his fingers when he placed it on her breast. She gave it all to him and honestly, he was ready to just... lose it. “Go ahead. Take what you want.” It was not even a moment later that he felt her begin to sink down. She was tight— so damn tight, and he choked slightly at just how good the squeeze was. He let out a hiss, head thrown back in the couch as the slick, hit cunt sucked over him, squeezing hard as she stretched open slowly. “Holy fuck.” He growled, gripping both hips now and looking at her with a darkness in his eyes. “You’re so bloody tight— Christ, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” He whispered.
“Daddy!” She whimpered as she slid farther down on his cock until she couldn’t fit anymore of him in. “I’m so full— feels so good.” Her eyes rolled back a bit as she began to bounce at a slowed rhythm. Small moans and little huffs came from her throat with every stroke of her hips, it wasn’t until she felt warmed up that she actually went for it. Y/N shifted so that she had better balance, keeping her hands on his shoulders before dropping back down on his cock. “Fuck!” She squeaked, making sure to clench one her way back up before repeating the action at a quicker pace. It felt incredible. He was touching every little part of her, feeling small waves of pleasure spread throughout her body. “Daddy! Fuck— feels so good ahhh!” Her moans were pornographic, whiny, desperate and needy. She didn’t even know she could sound like that, but apparently it was possible when she was as thirsty for cock as she was.
Never would he have guessed that this would be the outcome of their hang out. He had hoped, sure. Dreamed? Absolutely. But the reality was so much better. He had the hot, wet and extremely tight pussy gliding up and down his cock. She was moaning, tits bouncing in his face, and she was vocal. More than he could have asked for. The infatuation he had with her was only growing.
“Fuck, you’re a good girl. Such a perfect little cunt. Like bouncing on my cock, hm? Knew you’d be the perfect girl for me. Keep going.” His hand squeezed her ass, encouraging her to work herself on him. “Feels so full, yeah? Such a big cock filling such a little pussy. A nice stretch for you hm? So eager to be filled up...” her face was of pure bliss and Harry couldn’t help but take a mental photo. He hoped this could happen more than this once. “Knew you’d be good for me. Throwin’ yourself in my lap and begging to be fucked. Never guessed you’d be such a little slut, but I love it.” He took his hand, bringing it down sharply on her ass.
“Fuck!” Y/N gasped, her own hand moving to cuff his neck. It wasn’t as effective as him doing it to her, but it got the point across. The both of them grabbing at each other roughly, him thrusting up into her each time she slammed down. It could only be described as pure ecstasy, surely the hottest sex she had ever had. She needed him, she needed him to cum. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss his mouth again, making a mess of the two of them. “You’re so fucking good— love your cock, daddy... fucking love it!” She moaned between kisses, increasing her pace just enough so she could fuck him hard and steady. “I want you to cum for me daddy, wanna feel it nice and deep.” Thank fuck for IUDs. “Want you to fill me up while I cum all over your cock, can you do that for me? Can you cum with me?”
He was panting, lowering himself so he could properly thrust into her sopping cunt. He hadn’t gotten any in so long but this blew any and everyone out of the water. No one could ever understand how good this was. All the pining and imagining had come to an even better conclusion.
“I’ll do it... but you... gotta promise me.” He growled, giving a particularly sharp thrust inside of her, making her wail. “Promise me I can do it again. Let me have this pussy more.” He didn’t want it to end if it was the only time he could get it. It was too good to let go of. Drooling all over his cock and her soft whimpers and dirty words had him more worked up than anything else. “Promise, baby, and I’ll let you have my cum.”
“Promise— I promise— fuck!” She felt her breath get caught in her throat at the particularly hard thrusts Harry was giving her. “Please Daddy, please give it to me.” Y/N whimpered, moving her hands so they cupped his cheeks, keeping eye contact with him as they continued to relentlessly thrust into each other. There was nothing more satisfying, nothing that managed to hit every part of her both physically and spiritually and made her feel so alive. When you’ve wanted something for so long it makes getting it that much better and she knew that she’d always be chasing this high that only he could give her. “I’m so close, fuck, daddy—“ She mumbled between kisses, squeezing around him and continuing at her pace to bring herself to the perfect high. “Cum with me daddy, please— ah!”
Harry would work on his stamina next round. But after the whole thing, he was close to losing his mind. She was giving him the most tempting offer and he wasn’t going to give it up.
“Oh— fuck me.” He thrusted in again and again before he let himself go. Feeling her clench up around him and sob against his mouth, he let out a deep growl as he buried himself deep. Hot cum shooting inside of her cunt, rocking his hips in to get it all in there. There was no doubt that this was some of the most intense sex of his life but he was almost ready to go again, as soon as it ended. Holding her shivering form, her orgasm was tapering, he could feel her clenching still. “That’s it. Take all of it inside of you. Good girl.”
Y/N gripped Harry’s shoulders, loud screams of pleasure coming straight from her throat. There were no words to describe the high, she almost felt out of her own body as he showered her with praise. With her body shaking and face contorting with a silent scream, she found it in her to come back down letting out a pathetic whimper.
“Daddy—” She swallowed thickly, mouth finding his messily, pressing kisses to his lips and his face. The two of them were both lightly covered in sweat, breathing heavily and enjoying each other’s company. Y/N was far too blissed out to think about what just happened, but blissed out enough to know there would be many more rounds of this tonight. Y/N smiled as she nuzzled against his neck, still sponging kissing to his dampened skin. “Better?” She mumbled, smirking against his skin a bit.
“Mm.” He hummed, hands holding her hips still. Holy hell. This was the beginning of an amazing weekend- because he didn’t plan on letting her out at all, if he could help it’ he wanted her to stay, to let him indulge in her. “So fucking good.” He muttered lowly, rubbing his hand up her back and smoothing over her skin. Fucks sake. This was paradise. Nothing could pop him out of this.
At least, that was until the doorbell rang.
“Ah, fuck. The pizza.”
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So Wrong
Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one
Word Count: 8000
Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really
Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.
A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen.
There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error.
Hope you enjoy!
Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully.
You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.
Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.
It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.
“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”
You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.
You nod and smile, and accept the offering.
“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”
Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.
You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.
“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.
Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.
You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”
Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”
“And the boy’s other kin?”
“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”
“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice.
Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter.
They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.
You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.
Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.
“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”
You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.
“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”
“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”
He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.
“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?”
“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”
Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”
Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.
You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.
The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle.
“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.
You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.
Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.
You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.
Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless.
Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.
The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.
In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.
When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.
It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.
When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.
“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”
You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.
“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.”
You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”
“Not to me.”
You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.
“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”
He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.
‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.
You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.
That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.
It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”
“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”
You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.
Wilford does indeed ask.
You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper.
He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.
He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”
He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.
“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.
“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly.
Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space.
“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.
“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”
You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.
Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”
You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.
“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.
“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”
“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.
“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.
“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”
“You don’t hav’ta do that-”
“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.
You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.
You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.
“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”
She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.
“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.
You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?”
“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.
The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven.
The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.
“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.”
You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.
“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do.
Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.
“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”
She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about.
From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.
He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper.
The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.
“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.
You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.
“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.”
“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”
The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.
The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.
“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”
Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer.
“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.
Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”
“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”
His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”
She nods and gets up.
“Wine?” you ask, surprised.
“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”
Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.
You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.
“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”
“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”
“Not right away, but yes.”
“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”
“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”
“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.
“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.
Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”
“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject.
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”
Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”
She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.
You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine.
You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.
“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.
“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”
“I can take a look for you,” he offers.
“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”
She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”
He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.
You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.
“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.
“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.
When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk.
“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”
He nods and follows.
When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.
“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.
“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”
You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”
“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.
You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.
“Coffee?”
He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.
You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.
Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.
The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.
His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.
“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.
Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”
“You’re beautiful, y’know.”
You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.
“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”
“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.
One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.
“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.
God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.
It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.
“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.
“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”
“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”
It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.
He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.
It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.
“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.
You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.
Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.
The boys start to whine over each other-
“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”
“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”
Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.
Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.
“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”
He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”
“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”
You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.
You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.
“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth.
It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.
He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.
“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.
“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”
His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.
Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.
You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.
“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”
His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.
One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.
Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.
“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”
To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.
“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”
It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.
“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.
“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”
“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.
“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”
He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.
“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”
And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.
“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.
His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.
You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.
“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.
“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.
“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.
You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.
“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide.
His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”
You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.
“Kiss me?” you whisper.
His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.
The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.
“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.
When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.
You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.
“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.
Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.
Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”
Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.
“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”
You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”
“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.
Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.
He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”
“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.
You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.
Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers.
“We are. Go home, Lee.”
He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”
...
#lee bodecker x reader#lee bodecker smut#lee bodecker angst#lee bodecker fanfiction#hoedecker club#hoedecker cult#tdatt fanfiction#my writing#fic title so wrong#lee bodecker x you#lee bodecker x female reader
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Apparently the monster high fandom is rising from the grave again, so in celebration I wrote this instead of sleeping. I will be finishing it soon. Feedback is much appreciated!
A series of misunderstandings involving a limousine and Spectra’s blog lead Jackson to the realization that he has way more friends than he thought.
Monday
It was 12:06 in the afternoon when Jackson Jekyll ascended the steps of Monster High. If he was quick enough, he could at least be on time for 5th period. He took his seat in Mr. Rotter’s AP contemporary literature class just as the bell rang and pulled out his class copy of 1984. The stoic teacher gave him a nod of recognition. A few minutes into the lecture, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“You were not in creepateria this morning.” Abbey stated in her usual matter-of-fact tone.
“Yeah,” Winona added, “Ghoulia wanted to show you the new Fastpoint comic she got. She seemed really bummed you weren’t there. I can’t wait for you to read it though. It retcons the whole DeathCap Comics universe back to the way it was before the reboot. There was even-”
“Where were you, anyway?” Howleen hastily changed the subject.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. We were at the doctor’s office. Something kinda came up unexpectedly.” Jackson replied, turning to face them. This caught the attention of Rochelle. She looked up from her book.
“Doctor? Is everything alright?” Concern dripped from her voice and Jackson instantly felt guilty.
“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. We’re in a little bit of pain, but…” Jackson’s eyes both glanced upward towards his helix piercing as he spoke.”It won’t be a problem for much longer.” The four ghouls glanced at each other suspiciously and then back towards Jackson. Abbey opened her mouth to challenge his last statement.
“Ladies! Mr. Jekyll! Do not make me have to separate you!” Mr. Rotter’s stern voice boomed from the front of the room. Jackson muttered a meek apology and turned back to his book, his ghoulfriends quickly following suit. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
40 uneventful minutes went by and then finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. “Don’t forget to read the next chapter!” Mr. Rotter yelled to his students, but most of them were too far away to hear. Jackson dashed to his locker and quickly called his human friend Chad.
“Hey! I just got back from the doctor’s office. Yeah, she told me to just take some Advil and just let it run its course.” unbeknownst to him, resident blogger Spectra Vonderguist was perusing the hallways looking for her next story.
“Completely done for, they said. Apparently there’s nothing they can do.”
Spectra perked up at those words. She quickly pulled out her iCoffin and hid a few lockers down from Jackson’s.
“It’s true. We don’t have much time left.”
Spectra gasped and quickly snapped a photo of the scene in front of her. Did he say he was running out of time as in...death? Having always been a ghost, Spectra didn’t know a lot about death other than that it was something that happened to humans and to some breeds of monster. Even so, Jackson seemed a little early in his life to be experiencing it. In moments like these she really regretted snooping around in other people’s business, but she definitely had her blog post.
Tuesday
At 8:35 that morning, every phone in Monster High sounded at once as The Ghostly Gossip was updated. Conversations were halted and hallway traffic came to a standstill as several students stopped to check their phones.
Normie’s days are numbered?
Yesterday, sources caught a phone conversation of one Jackson Jekyll in which he confessed to being told by a doctor that he didn’t have much time left on earth. This story is still developing, and more details will be reported as they come in.
Deuce Gorgon’s eyes scanned the short article again. “Dude.” Was all he could come up with after a couple of minutes. “What?” Asked Clawd Wolf as he approached his best friend. Deuce handed over his phone.
“Dude!” Clawd exclaimed. “If this is someone’s idea of a joke, it isn’t very funny.”
“I know.” Deuce replied in a stern tone that contrasted with his usual jovial one. “Maybe the ghouls know something about this.”
Clawd nodded and quickly scanned the hallway. Frankie, Cleo, Clawdeen, and Draculara were all crowded around Frankie’s locker. They were looking over Cleo’s shoulder at something on her phone and talking to one another in a hushed whisper. The boys headed toward the group.
“Hey, did you ghouls see that weird blog post?’ Deuce asked the group.
“Uh, yeah,” Cleo responded. “Why would Spectra post such a far-fetched tale? And expect anyone to believe it?”
“But why would she post something like this if it wasn’t true?” Clawdeen asked. “You know how seriously that ghoul takes her blog.”
“C’mon guys,” Frankie cut in. “Spectra’s gotten a story twisted around before, remember?”
“But-” Draculara started.
“But nothing.” All eyes turned towards a fast-approaching Heath Burns, flanked by Abbey and Ghoulia. “Look, if my cousins were dying, I would know about it. That ghost writer has lost her spark.”
“Am not so sure.” Abbey responded, giving Heath the side eye. “He was acting very strange yesterday. Said he did go to see doctor.”
Draculara burst suddenly into tears, clinging to Clawd and Clawdeen. “But that means we’re gonna lose Jackson and Holt-” the rest of her sentence was cut off by sobbing.
“There there, sweetie,” Clawdeen whispered, handing her best friend a tissue. “That does it. We have to put this whole thing to rest right now.
“Yes,” Abbey agreed. “We go ask Jackson.”
“Well we can’t just tell him we know,” Cleo insisted. “What are you even going to say? ‘Oh, by the way, Spectra eavesdropped on your private conversation yesterday and now there’s a story posted on the internet about you for the whole school to read, so can you tell us if it’s true?’ He’ll be mortified.”
Frankie stared at her. “That’s actually a pretty good point. Okay, we’ll meet in the library during lunch to find what we can about human death, so we at least know what we’re looking for. Sound like a plan?” The group collectively nodded. “Good. I’ll see you there.”
At 11:30 that morning, the group re-convened in the dusty confines of the Monster High library. Ghoulia moaned as she typed away at the computer in front of her.
“Ghoulia says that when a human dies, they’re put into a box that is measured especially for them. The box is then put into a long black car to a place where it can be buried in the ground. It’s customary for the person’s box to be decorated with flowers, and then their family and friends are invited to a gathering to watch them be buried.” Frankie translated.
“Like some sort of going away party?” Clawdeen asked. “I’m glad i’m not a human. That’s pretty morbid.”
“But that proves it!” Heath exclaimed. “I’m Jackson’s family so if he were dying, I would definitely be invited to the going away party and so would my parents. This whole story is bogus.”
The other students weren't so sure yet, but they all let the subject drop for now.
At 2:56, the music stopped. Jackson blinked, suddenly aware of his surroundings. The sun beamed down and burned his eyes, and he quickly had to side step to avoid being trampled by the massive herd of students walking behind him. He’d apparently stopped in his tracks in the middle of the front walkway of the school. He looked down and discovered the cause of this to be his dead iCoffin. He plugged his phone into his portable charger and it blinked back to life. Underneath the time display was a message from Holt.
“You got any idea why D-low hugged me holding back tears this mornin? Did I miss somethin?” Jackson opened his phone to respond
“Um, no? I don’t think so. Did she say what was wrong?” He left it for Holt to find later and put his phone back in his bag. Not a moment passed before it began buzzing with a call from his dad.
“So anyway, I was all like ‘dude’ and she was all like-” Draculara recounted the events of the day and was suddenly cut off by her best friend Clawdeen, who pushed her back behind the doors to the school, pointing in Jackson’s direction.
“You’re going to pick us up right?” Jackson asked into the phone.
“Okay. Yeah, we spoke to the florist yesterday. We picked out this really cool arrangement of Forget-Me-Nots. Pretty appropriate for the occasion, right?”
The two ghouls in hiding glanced at each other. “Do you remember what Frankie said? About humans getting flowers when they’re-”
“SHH!” the two turned their attention back to the human in question.
“Yeah, I know. Moms will be devastated. They said they won’t be back until 11 or 12 that night, and we’ll definitely be gone by then. But we’ll be sure to take a lot of pictures before we go!” He continued to the person on the other end. “Okay, see you in a few minutes.”
The girls gasped as Jackson put his phone away. Clawdeen pulled out her phone and pulled up the group chat. They had to tell everyone what they had just heard.
#monster high#jackson jekyll#holt hyde#frankie#clawdeen#draculara#duece gorgon#abbey bomidable#Jackson and Holt use We instead of I#this is a hill i will die on
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Am I dreaming?
Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader
Word count: 325 words.
Summary: Some events repeat every day, you don’t know if you are dreaming or is the reality.
Warnings: Brock being Brock.
A/N: This is my entry to @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan’s Hamilfilm lyric challenge with the prompt former refuted:
“If you repeat yourself again I’m gonna scream.”
**By mistake I published this in my background blog @anyamayfair**
My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.
I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.
If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.
Tags: @sinceimetyou @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @saiyanprincessswanie @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @adriannajackson @white-wolf1940
You got up with a strange feeling... just like every morning of the last week, you weren't sure if every day was repeated or just some events...
You put your hands on your face trying to make the feeling go away, you couldn't describe exactly how it felt, and a similar sensation was like dizziness. You left the room and met Steve, who smiled when he saw you.
"Darling, you finally woke up," Steve said.
You nodded a little confused, you kissed him and you went to the dining room, you frowned, you ate pancakes in breakfast on Tuesday... or had it been Monday?, no, maybe it was Saturday, Natasha wore the t-shirt she had worn on Wednesday, Sam wore the clothes that he wore on Monday, Bucky had combed his hair like Sunday, it was as if everything that had happened the previous days had been mixed.
"Cap's favourite finally woke up!” Brock said mockingly.
You couldn't believe it, again he repeated that stupid phrase, again he made fun of you, that some things happened again was tolerable, but you'd already reached your limit, the first time you hadn't given you laughter, and it won’t the sixth time, you'd always hated Brock making fun of anything.
“If you repeat yourself again I’m gonna scream.”
"Don't get mad, it's a joke," Brock excused himself.
"What are you talking about? Steve asked you.
"Every day over the last week he's said that I'm sick of hearing the same phrase for...”
"That's not possible," Nat said.
"What?”
“You were unconscious for a few days, you got hit very hard in the last mission, Bruce said you had no harm, you weren't in a coma, it just looked like you didn't want to wake up,” Steve explained.
You blinked several times, that's when you realized that you weren't stuck in a cycle that was repeated every day, but you'd just dreamed everything... although it had seemed very real...
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“One of the Boys” (M.C)
Pairings: Michael Clifford X Reader
Summary: College!AU ~ Friends to Lovers. You and Michael are best friends since forever, that’s why you feel the need to hide your crush on him. But when he makes a hurtful comment, you are determined to prove him wrong. Could that be enough to make him love you?
Warnings: The reader uses she/her pronouns, I’m sorry if I make anyone uncomfortable with that, it was not my intention. Angst with fluffy parts. Language, low self esteem issues, cheating (a little bit, it depends on how you view it) one sexual reference and some grammar and syntax errors (English it’s not my first language, I’m sorry)
Word Count: 5.5K
Author’s Note: My first Michael Fic! I waited so long and it’s finally here ✨ This is slyghtly based on a personal experience (mine didn’t have this ending) I hope you like it! Feedback, reblogs and comments are always welcomed, I love to hear from you guys 💕 You can read my other works HERE 🦋
You had to admit it, you weren’t exactly a very ‘feminine’ girl. But that the hell was wrong with that? Yes, you preferred leggings and big hoodies over skirts and tight dresses. Yes, you skateboarded everyday to school and hanged out with boys all the time, drinking beers instead of fancy little cocktails. Yes, you never really cared about boy bands or artists like Justin Bieber or Drake. And yes, you would rather die than have high heels on for more than 2 hours straight. But that’s just who you are, how you’ve always been. His comment shouldn’t have hurt that much, but why are you crying about it?
You have been roomates with Michael since you two started college. You always joked about how you were going to live together someday and have a fridge full of junk food and soda. Well, now you do (except from the junk food part, that proved to be an awful experience)
To be honest, you didn’t have that many friends besides him and your other four knuckleheads you know and love from your early school days. Luke was the youngest of all of you, and maybe that’s why everybody thought he was the innocent one (even though he was the mastermind of almost every prank you ever pulled) Calum was the shy one, as people would put it, but just get to know him a little bit and you wouldn’t be able to shut him up. Ashton is supposedly the mature one, but his quick-witted mind and his inability of staying put in a place gives him the same amount of energy as a five year old. And then there was Michael, your best friend, there isn’t a time in your life where Michael wasn’t by your side, weather it was for pulling a prank on someone, skipping school or just playing video games in his basement, he was always there. So moving in together was a no brainer.
The friendship consisted on having the same level of confidence as an old married couple, trusting each other with everything, nothing being off limits, well, except for one thing…
You and Michael were friends and nothing more. That was clear for both of you. For years you both ignored the teasing and assumptions of you guys being a couple. Just the idea of it seeming so absurd to even imagine. But there’s a fine line between love and friendship.
Over the last few years, you began to think that the idea of being Michael’s girlfriend didn’t sound so bad after all. It was impossible to pin the pivotal point of that thought, but somehow somewhere along the road, you started to feel more flustered every time he leaned into a hug, felt butterflies in your stomach with each look he speared your way or how he said your name with such a caring tone. You found yourself thinking of him more often than not, especially on how his arms would look around you waist, how it will feel to be loved by him, to kiss him…
But you couldn’t think like that, not about your best friend. So it’s better to keep it hidden in the deepest part of your soul, praying to whoever’s above that it will go away soon, but when does that ever work?
Maybe that’s why his comment hurt so bad.
It was a lazy Monday, you didn’t have to work today and that meant you could spend your afternoon beating Michael’s ass in video games. But you couldn’t concentrate with your thoughts wandering over the man who owns your heart. It was the third time you let him win in Mario Kart when he caught on your mood.
“You really suck today, huh?” Michael asked as he watches Mario celebrate yet another victory.
“Or maybe you’re finally getting good” You replied, resting your head lazily in one hand, not taking your eyes from the screen.
Michael furrowed his brows, worrying as he heard a light sigh come out of your lips “Hey, are you okay?” He asked, but you don’t seem to hear him, so he accommodates himself on the couch in order to look at you properly and puts a hand on your leg, just right above the knee “Y/N?”
“Huh?” You say, finally lifting your gaze in order to meet his and oh, how you wish you didn’t. Lost in the sea of those green eyes that consumed every thought of your mind, you felt yourself blushing under him and trying very hard not to think on his hand touching your thigh “What? No, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Liar. You let me win, that never happens. Tell me, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong”
“Y/N,”
“Nothing’s wrong, Michael. I swear”
His eyes scanned you, knowing damn well something was up.
“Well,” He said, patting your leg, softly “If you’re not gonna tell me… Then I will make you”
Before you could even comprehend what he meant by that, he was already leaning over your figure with a devilish grin as his hands traveled to your sides and started tickling you mercilessly.
Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you couldn’t contain the laughter that came over you. Begging him to stop, you tried to escape his grip, but it wasn’t the first time this had happened and you know this is a fight you can’t. Michael joined in laughter as he came closer to you, pinning you under him on the sofa.
But suddenly, his movements stop as he becomes very aware of the position you’re in. You give one last laugh before turning to face him, only to find him already staring at you. You shudder under his gaze as you realize the way his legs are intertwined with yours, wondering if it’s his cellphone on the pocket of his shorts or something else is brushing up against your lower body.
Michael’s eyes never leave yours as your breath becomes even. And he couldn’t help but notice the way that your lips parted slightly, almost inviting him for a taste.
“Hey, dude, sorry to bother you but.. Oh shit, you’re fucking on the couch?” A voice came through the door, making you push Michael onto the floor before getting caught in that position. Raising your head over the sofa, you were met by Ashton and Luke’s grin disappearing from their faces as your face came to view “Oh, it’s just Y/N. WAIT, Were you fucking Y/N?!”
Rolling your eyes and giving them the middle finger, you stand up from the couch, regretting ever giving them a key in the first place, and went straight to the bathroom, trying to hide the red of your cheeks.
But just before you could close the door, you heard Michael say “What are you talking about? It Y/N! She’s practically one of the boys!”
He didn’t mean to hurt you. He had good intentions with that comment, of course he did. But you couldn’t stop overthinking it, crying at the thought of you being so unattractive in his eyes.
“So he wants a girly girl?” You thought, already planning a strategy “I’ll show him, then”
That’s how it started. You began to wear the dresses that were long forgotten on your wardrobe, you started using makeup and styling your hair in something other than a messy bun.
It was confusing at first and not at all what you were used to, but there was a new energy surrounding you, a confident one. You were going to show Michael that you could be feminine, maybe that way he’ll notice you in a ‘more than just a friend’ kinda way.
The first time the boys saw you with your new look they were all sharing breakfast in your kitchen. With your apartment being closer to campus they might as well move in.
“Good morning, guys” You said cheerfully, not looking at anyone in particular.
They all stared at you, looking at you up and down. And just before you could reach the cereal box, the questions started coming.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Y/N why are you dressed like a girl? IS THAT MAKE UP?”
“Do you have a date? It’s 8 am on a Tuesday! Who are they? Vampires?”
“Who are you and what did you do to our Y/N?”
“Is the simulation broken?”
“Shhh” You said, raising the palm of your hand as you poured cereal in a bowl “It’s too damn early for any of you to do that much noise and I haven’t had my coffee yet” As in que, Ashton passed you your usual mug “Thank you, and to answer some of your inquiries. 1) Nothing’s going on, Calum. 2) I happen to be a girl, Luke. Thank you for noticing. 3) I do not have a date, nor I should use that as an excuse to put on some nice clothes. I just,, felt like it” You took a long sip from the hot beverage “The simulation broke down a long time ago and I’m still me. I’m just wearing different clothes, that’s all. Right, Mikey?”
Michael choked with his toast, coughing as he tried to gain some composure “Yeah, you look… great” He said with a shy smile, and he was right. The others joined in with the compliments, hyping and teasing you about how he will have to be more protective of you because you will sure bring home some hot dates looking like that.
It’s been a couple of weeks since that morning and everyday Michael complimented you. You’d be lying if you say that every word he says doesn’t fill your heart with butterflies. Maybe there’s a possibility that he feels the same way.
It was a pretty uneventful evening in the little coffee shop where you worked. You didn’t have many clients today, so the dim lights and the sweet voice of Hozier that blasted through the speakers allowed you to daydream. Michael’s face popped out in your mind, smiling as you remembered the way that he looked at you this morning. Finally proving that you were more than just “One of the boys”
You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the bell chime when the door opened, only waking up when you saw those same eyes that had you smiling just a minute ago standing in front of you, staring at you as well.
“Hey Y/N! How’s it going?” He asked, smiling at you.
“Nothing much” You shrug “Just the same amount of pain and tiredness of the average college experience” Michael rolled his eyes at your sarcasm. That’s when a giggle caught your attention.
The most beautiful woman you ever laid your eyes on was standing next to Michael. She had the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen and her wavy hair complemented her face like an angel. She sure didn’t seem real, how did you not notice her when she entered? Were you really that busy focusing on Michael?
“I can totally relate to that” The girl said with a smile, god even her smile was perfect.
“Y/N, this is Veronica. Veronica, Y/N” Michael introduced.
You smiled politely at her and she did the same “Oh, the famous Y/N! I heard a lot about you, I can’t wait to get to know you better”
Um, what? Michael has been talking about you? To her? You couldn’t tell if it was good or a bad sign.
“Really? Well, don’t believe anything he says. Unless they are good things, then he’s right”
“Okay! Thank you, Y/N” He interrupted, mocking annoyance “I’ll take my usual please, darling. And she will have…”
“Just a mocha, please”
You nodded “Coming right up” You smiled at her as she walked to a table. Michael leaned over the counter and whispered.
“Could you do one of those drawing people do in the coffee? She will love that. Thanks.” He gave you a kiss on the cheek and walked away, sitting close to Veronica in one of the booths just before he could notice the way your cheeks turned to a much brighter red.
An hour passes. Then two. Then two and a half. And you were standing there, acting as a witness of their chemistry. You cursed yourself as your eyes drifted towards them, watching them laugh and talk about life. It was clear that Michael was enchanted by her, moving closer and closer every time, and you could tell the feeling was mutual as she laid her delicate hand on his.
Of course Michael would go for the pretty girls. Veronica was gorgeous, you couldn’t pinpoint a single defect on that girl, not even with a magnifying glass and you hated that. You hated the fact that he brought her here, you hated the fact that you have to work while his love story unfolds like a Taylor Swift song, you hated that it you weren’t the one sitting next to him, talking about dreams and how everything just collides perfectly within the universe. But that’s not your story.
“Earth calling Y/N?�� A voice calls in front of you “Hello?”
You blink a few times and stare at the tall blond man waving his hand in front of your face “Sorry, Luke. Didn’t see you there” You excuse yourself “What can I get for you?”
“The usual, but this time with at least four more shots of espresso. I have to put an all nighter again cause I have that stupid presentation and you are not listening to me again”
“Sorry, what? Four shots of espresso, yeah.” Your gaze averted his “Anything else?”
“Okay, what’s going on?” Luke followed where your eyes led and soon he was, too, staring at the reason of your distraction “Oh”
Out of the four of them, Luke was the only one who knew about your feelings for Michael. He was always very supportive and didn’t pressure you into confessing right away, knowing it must be hard for you. So he can’t imagine what is going on inside your head right now, watching the man you love on a date.
“He didn’t tell me he had a date” You told him.
“He mentioned this morning” Luke added “Said he met her at one of his classes and that she seemed cool. So he asked her out. He never told us he would bring her here “You clenched your jaw, trying to keep the tears at bay. Luke noticed that “I’m sorry, love. I thought he told you about it”
“She is gorgeous, Luke”
“She’s not you, though” You scoffed.
“Exactly”
“Y/N…”
“I’m fine,” You lied “Really, I’m okay. It was a silly crush anyway. And plus, look how happy he looks”
And it was true. Michael did look very happy chatting and flirting with Veronica. His smile reaching his eyes as she spoke and laugh at all his jokes. He truly must like her, and you… Well, some people are just meant to be the side character of another person’s story.
Luke let out a sigh, knowing well enough to assume you are just going to bury your feelings like you always do “He will soon realize what he’s missing”
************************************************
Well, six months passed and he still hasn’t realized. It’s been six month since that fateful evening where you got your heart broken by the man you love. It’s been six months since Veronica has been a constant part of your daily life, sleeping over, joining on movie nights and replaced your spot next to your best friend. It’s been six months of dressing more ‘girly’, wearing make-up and doing your nails, all of it trying to call Michael’s attention, to make you look more like Veronica, more like someone you are not. And all of that for what? You still ended up crying yourself to sleep almost every night.
Luke has been there for you all this time, letting you crash in his place whenever she came over and trying to distract you from the heartache by making jokes or goofing around, sometimes even letting you stay the night just to talk or cry or whatever you needed.
Tonight, however, it was a special night. Michael texted you saying that he finally found the movie you were dying to see for years! It was a special straight to dvd movie with Betty White that you remember it being your favorite growing up but you could never find it anywhere. And to say that you were ecstatic when Michael suggested a movie night for the two of you, would be an understatement.
You got the popcorn ready, ordered some pizzas and the ice cream was in the freezer. It was the first time in months that you would have time alone with Michael and, honestly, you missed him like crazy. Yes, you know he lives there, but it’s been a while since you guys actually talked or shared a good laugh together. Putting your feelings towards him aside, you just missed your best friend.
Suddenly, the bell rang. It wasn’t uncommon for Michael to forget his keys, so you weren’t really surprised.
“How many times do I have to tell you that we bought you that keychain for a reason and-“ But it wasn’t Michael standing at the door “Veronica.. I thought you were Michael”
The girl smiled, (really, not even a chip tooth?) “Yeah, he told me he’ll be a little late and that I should just go ahead” She said as she made her way into the apartment.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I love movie night!”
He invited her. It was a moment for the two of you and he invited her.
You couldn’t be mad, could you? She’s his girlfriend, after all. She could be here and he had every right to invite her, but… But it still hurt. You thought you’d be spending the evening with your best friend, he said you would. It was a special movie for the both of you, why invite her?
“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” Veronica said, pulling you away from your mind.
“Uh, sure”
“I have to admit, I was really intimidated by you”
“By me? Why?”
“Well, when Michael talked about you I always thought I had to compete for his attention. It was always Y/N this, Y/N that… He assured me that you were just friends, but I didn’t believe him until I met you. I love that he has a friend like you. You really mean a lot to him so, thank you”
You nodded and muttered a “no problem”
She was right, you were just a friend of Michael’s. Why did you ever think you could be more? Especially with someone like her in his life? It was foolish, it was crazy. He would never look at you the same so, why keep trying?
“So, what are we watching?”
“Oh, um… I don’t know. I’m not staying” You said, hiding the pain in your voice.
“But Michael told me-“
“I’m spending the night at Luke’s today. I totally forgot”
You rushed out of the living room and went straight to your room, letting the tears fall as you started packing for a few days. You needed to get away as soon as possible. You couldn’t handle staying here at the moment, it hurt too much.
Just as you were packing the last pieces of clothing, you heard Michael opening the front door. And surely, a few moments later he was pushing yours open.
“What do you mean you’re not staying tonight?” He barged in.
Your back was facing him, so you couldn’t see him, you didn’t want to see him, but he sounded hurt. Quickly, you wiped your tears with the back of the hand and tried to muttered something close to an unbothered tone.
“I’m going to Luke’s”
“You always go to Luke’s, are you two a thing or something? Because you seem to live there more than here”
You let out a small laugh, was he really that dense?
“There’s nothing going on between me and Luke-“
“Then why are you always in his place?”
“It’s none of your business”
“Well, Y/N it is. It is because I wanted you to spend the night because we rarely see each other anymore and now you’re ditching me again!”
He raised his voice a bit, clearly frustrated and confused. That alone made your anger take the best of you.
“Oh please, as if you really want me here”
Michael frowned “What does that suppose to mean?”
“Why did you invite her?”
“Veronica? She’s my girlfriend, I though-“
“I know that she’s your girlfriend, I get it. It’s just-“ You took a deep breath, trying not to cry or scream or both “It’s just that tonight was special, and I wanted to share that with my best friend. Only with my best friend. But I feel like everytime we try to do something together she’s always there and-“
“You don’t like her?”
“What? No, that’s the worst part. I actually think she’s great” You turned around and closed your bag, ready to leave “Michael I’m not going start a fight, I’m going to stay with Luke for a while. Don’t wait up”
You made your way out of the room, but before you could reach the door Michael’s hand grabbed you by the arm, making you stop.
“Michael” You warned “Let me go”
“No, wait. What do you mean with ‘that’s the worst part’?”
“I’m not having this conversation right now.”
“Yes, you are” Michael made you turn around. You were now looking at him in the eyes, he seemed hurt but you,, oh, you were in pain “Y/N, what is going on? You’ve been avoiding me lately, you’re not staying home, you don’t talk to me anymore, you’re dressing differently and sneaking out everytime I’m here. Is it because of Veronica?” You shook your head, slightly “Then what is it? Why are you pulling away from me?”
“Because it’s too damn hard!” You say looking away from him, unable to contain the tears any longer.
Michael’s eyes winded at your answer. His lips parted in surprise at your sudden outburst, wanting nothing more than to hold you but knowing you won’t let him.
“What?”
“You don’t get it, do you? No, you never did” You cry silent tears as your voice comes barely above a whisper “I can’t stay here because it hurts. Everytime I’m here she’s here too, like a reminder of everything I’m not. And I’ve tried-“ you choke “I tried to look more pretty, to be more ‘girly’ and feminine, losing myself every day. Hoping that maybe you’ll notice”
“Notice what?” Michael said softly.
You let out a breath.
“That I’m in love with you, you idiot”
Michael was taken aback by your answer, but he still wasn’t letting go of your arm. You love him? That’s what’s this all about?
“But I know you don’t feel the same. You never did and you never will. After all, I’m just Y/N. Just ‘one of the boys’ am I not?” He didn’t respond “It’s okay, I came to terms with that, I wouldn’t expect you to say something anyways” You released yourself from his grip and grabbed the last bag that laid on your bed “I’ll stay with Luke tonight and I’ll pick up my stuff in a few days”
Michael shook his head, as if he just realized what you just said “Wait, you’re moving?”
“What do you want me to do, Michael? Stay here? Pretend that things will be the same after this?! Go and have a movie night with your girlfriend and say that everything’s okay when I’m tearing myself apart in front of you?” You ask out of anger “I can’t do that, Michael. I need time”
“Y/N-“
“Why do you care anyways? I’m not a main character in your life. I’m not the type of girl you would fall for, or that you would consider feminine enough. I’m not pretty enough or funny enough and I’m tired of that. I’m tired of being an afterthought”
You turned around, already reaching for the doorknob when Michael’s hand wrapped around your waist, twisting you so your back was pressed against the door and your eyes were on him.
“Y/N, you were never an afterthought” He breathed close to you.
“Michael, what are yo-“
“Stay, please” But before you could say anything else, you felt his lips on yours.
The kiss was everything you dreamed it would be. Fast, rough and passionate. His hands traveled down your spine as he deepened the kiss, getting more needy by the second. Your hands flew to his neck, bringing him even closer, wanting to feel every part of him. You wanted to let yourself go, to fill these long needed desire. But you couldn’t forget about the girl waiting in the living room.
With all the strength you could manage, you pushed Michael away from you as the tears came flooding down again.
“What the fuck is your problem?!” You spat at him in anger “You can’t do that to me. You can’t just kiss me and expect to fix everything. Who do you think I am?” You could tell he was trying to say something, but you were not in the mood to listen “I won’t let you do this to me. I won’t let you do this to her. I’m leaving, Michael. Get your shit together”
And with that, you ran through the door and didn’t look back.
A few hours later, you were settled in with Luke in his apartment. When you arrived, you asked him to please not say anything, that you weren’t ready to talk just yet. He just nodded and let you in.
You cried on his shoulders for what it felt like an eternity. Your head was pounding and your voice was hoarse. You’ve never felt so heartbroken before.
“C-can I stay here for a while? Until I find my own place?” You asked him.
“Of course, darling” Luke said, kissing your head “Take all the time you need”
You stayed like that for a while. He comforting you through your silent tears until you fell asleep.
A week passes by and you are not feeling any better. You haven’t been sleeping well and you’re barely eating despite Luke’s pleads. Ashton and Calum showed up one day to check up on you, but you still refused to talk about it. Maybe you were embarrassed, maybe the memory of that kiss was too recent, too painful to talk about. Maybe you just didn’t know how.
One night you fell asleep on the living room, the TV working as the background noise that drowned your thoughts. You were peacefully dreaming for the first time in days when the sound of muffled voices woke you up. You were still laying in the sofa, but Luke was nowhere in sight. That’s until you heard him talk.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea”
“Please, I need to talk to her” the other man pleaded.
Michael was standing at the door. He looked like a complete wreck. His hair was undone and a bit greasy from ruffling it with his fingers way too much, his eyes were bloodshot and glossy, still fighting to contain the tears in front of his friend.
“Look, man. I love you, but she doesn’t need this right now and-“
“Let him in, Luke”
The two tall men turned towards you. You were standing behind the sofa, your eyes never leaving Michael’s. Luke simply nodded and headed to his room, giving you the privacy you needed.
“I’ll be there if you need me” He said to you.
You muttered a small ‘Thank you’ to him before fixing your gaze upon Michael. He was still frozen by the door, unsure on how to say what he has to say.
Letting out a breath, you decided to break the ice “Michael-“
“I broke up with her” He said in one breath.
“You what?!”
“The night you left,,, I-I broke up with her because I couldn’t keep lying to myself anymore”
“What do you mean?”
He hesitantly took a step closer to you, afraid that he was overstepping again.
“All this time, for years, I’ve been avoiding my own feelings. Tucked them away at the farthest corner in my closet, hoping that they’ll fade soon. I couldn’t cope with them, I was too afraid to.
‘“I told myself that I was being foolish, immature and downright stupid for thinking that the girl I love would love me back. How could she? She was beautiful, shared my sense of humor, my interests and she was extremely cool. I told myself that a girl like that could never want me. But, strangely, she did, as a friend. And I was content with that, at least I would have her be part of my life.
‘“So I hid my feelings until I couldn’t see them, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t feel them. And every day I would remind myself that she was my friend and I was beyond lucky for that. I kept letting myself down on a daily basis, trying to keep the thoughts away, hoping that one day I could believe them. But I never thought of the consequences my actions had towards the girl.
‘“Y/N, when you left I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like a vital part of me was missing and you took it away with you. And I deserved it, I truly did. Y/N, I was an asshole”
“Michael,”
“No, I was. Hearing you say those things about yourself, like you were broken and needed to be fixed, it broke my heart, darling” His voice broke at the end, fighting helplessly to contain the tears that were burning behind his eyes “I- I never meant for you to think that I didn’t love you for who you were. That you needed to change in order to get me to like you. You shouldn’t change for anyone, love, you are absolutely perfect the way you are. You always have been and always will be.
‘“Y/N, you were never just ‘one of the boys’, you are my best friend, my soulmate and the best thing that has ever happened to me by far. I’ve always known that, but I was just too much of a coward to let it show and I’m sorry.
‘“When you told me you loved me, god. Y/N, I’ve never felt so happy and confused at the same time! I couldn’t fanthom the thought of you loving me, it seemed surreal after so many years of telling myself that it was impossible, almost like a cruel joke. But you did, and I could tell by your eyes that it was true, and I hated myself for that. I hated the fact that I was hurting you instead of loving you like I wanted to. I hated the fact that you felt like you had to leave in order for you to fix what I broke. I hated that I ruined our first kiss by a stupid impulse because you didn’t deserve that. You deserve the world and I was so scared of the fact that I might’ve lost the chance to be able to give it to you.
‘“ I broke up with her the night you left. It wasn’t fair to you, to her or to me to keep denying my feelings any longer. And I know that I don’t deserve it, but I’m standing here to ask you for forgiveness. I’m sorry that I made you feel less than you are. I’m sorry that I broke your heart. I’m sorry that I wasn’t brave enough to tell you this the moment you walked out the door that night. I will keep apologizing for the rest of my life if necessary, Y/N. But I just- I just don’t want to lose you”
You were standing in front of him. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you took in everything he said to you.
He loved you.
He loves you.
And you love him.
Michael was staring at his feet, too afraid to look up and see the disappointment in your face. To scared to lose you and everything you meant to him. Maybe coming here was a mistake, maybe you don’t want to know anything about him anymore. And he deserved that.
“Well,” You finally say, swallowing the lump in your throat “You still owe me that movie night”
His eyes light up as he saw you smiling at him. He returned it by grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer to him. Leaning so your lips could met again.
Smiling into the kiss, you swore that you will never let go of the other again.
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Smalltown Bringdown 2
Warnings: blood, violence, more to be added.
This is dark!biker!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You begin your search for a new job but times are tough.
Note: Here’s part two. I’m planning on making this a relatively short series, think Eye for an Eye. I’m having fun with Biker!Bucky and next chapter should be🔥 To those who take the time to read, thank you. Love you guys!
Please, leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
The Birch Branch Bakery was just across the street from the Chipped Saucer. The old plaque beside the door read 'Est. 1887'. It had passed hands from one Hollorin to the next. Barbara, or Babs, Hollorin was the latest in the line of plump delicatessens. She had her father's rosy cheeks and boomong laugh. You faintly remembered the round old man from your childhood though he had long passed.
Babs smiled as you entered. She was rarely anything but cheery, certain to offer any child a sample of her famous chocolate mousse. You slid your resume across the counter and she offered you a taste. You passed.
"It's a long shot, I know," You said. "But Jimmy's clearing house… well really, just tossing out an old lamp."
"Oh, hon, you know I usually just hire students. I can’t offer many hours. No tips either."
"I know," You shrugged. "But I could find something else to fill in the blanks."
"I'll think about it, okay, sweets?" She took your resume from the counter.
"Thanks," You paused before the glass display. "Could I get a slice of lemon meringue? You know mom would kill me if I left without grabbing her a piece."
“Of course, dear.” Babs smiled and took the pie out from the stand.
She set a slice carefully in a box and tied a bow around it with string; the usual fare. You took it with a smile and thank you.
The door rang as you stepped out onto the street. Your last stop was the used bookshop/hobby store, Lloyd’s. You pushed inside as you balanced the box in one hand and greeted the old man sat behind the counter. Lucius was half off his stool as he bent over the model plane and carefully dobbed some clue along its body. His hair was streaked grey and black and lines betrayed a smile even when he was grimacing at a particularly tedious project.
“Hey, Lu,” You greeted as he looked up through his narrow glasses. “Just figured I’d drop by…” You neared and held the box against your hip and rested your folder on it. “Hand in a resume for good measure. I know, I know, not much going around but--”
“You not at the Saucer anymore?” He finished securing the wing and sat up with a groan.
“Not since a few days ago.” You slipped out a page and carefully placed it beside the toy plane. “We’ll see if I’m in the government’s lap by the end of the month, though.”
“Oh, dear, that’s terrible,” He took your resume and held it out as he tried to focus through his lenses, “That Jimmy’s a real slimy one. I’ll spare you my true thoughts, out of courtesy.”
“I’ll say it myself. He’s a bastard,” You added. “You know I never mind your language, Lu.”
“Certainly your mother didn’t like me teaching you all those pretty words,” He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.” He turned and set the paper down behind him on the shelf of unsorted books. “Might not be full hours but I could use a hand or two. Let me have a look at the books and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks,” You said. “Mind if I have a look before I go.”
“By all means,” He grabbed his tube of glue, “You always were my best customer.”
You nodded and headed back to your favourite section. He always had the most eclectic collection of biographies. A man in love with cinema, he’d given you a copy of Lena Horne’s memoir and stoked your own love for the past. Nestled in this shop was a peculiar array of nostalgia. A time you never knew but felt like your own. A childhood spent in the golden era with Astaire and Hayworth.
After a moment perusing, you chose a book on Tallulah Bankhead and headed for the counter. Lucius made no move to quit his gluing. You waved the book at him as you kept the folder and box under your other arm.
“On the house, dear,” He looked up briefly. “Your out a job and poor Tallulah’s been on that shelf for years. You give her a nice home. She’ll keep you good company.”
“Thanks,” You smiled and slid the book under the box as you adjusted your grip and moved your load in front of your stomach. “I’ll be back next week, Lu.”
“You will. I wanna know what you think of it.” He said. “She’s a special one.”
“Alright,” You chuckled and headed for the door. He cursed under his breath as he continued to fiddle with the model.
You found yourself back on the main street. The old clock tower struck one in the afternoon and you headed towards the library. A black speck caught in the corner of your eye; the same which had drawn you several times that day. It was as if the town’s spectre was following you on your tour. You carried on and ducked into the small alcove between the suit shop and the pawn broker’s. You heard Lloyd’s door open and close.
You waited, five, maybe ten minutes, until you heard it again. The same footfalls that had echoed your own. That you had shrugged off as an effect of the small town. It was easy to feel followed in a place like this. It was hard not to cross paths with the same person several times over. The soles scuffed over the sidewalk as they trailed your former steps and the shadow in leather passed you by. You emerged from the alley and huffed.
“There a reason you’re following me?” You asked.
Bucky stopped and chuckled as he pushed his shoulders back. He turned slowly, a smile on his face. “Am I?”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice earlier.” You growled. “Now, you don’t seem like you’re in need of employment and you’re not exactly the social butterfly of Birch.”
“I’m not?” He wondered. “People talk to me freely enough.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing? Talking?” You challenged.
“Well, I don’t get a chance to explore the town much,” He shrugged.
“And who would ever want to do that? You live here a week and you can retrace the map in your sleep,” You narrowed your eyes. “You still haven’t told me why you’re following me.”
“Can’t say that I am,” He stepped closer as he stared at the folder atop the small box in your arms. “How is the job hunt going anyway?”
Your nostrils flared but you didn’t answer. You could only watch as he opened the folder and slipped a copy of your resume free. He made a show of reading it before folding it and slipping it inside his jacket.
“Offer stands.” He said.
“Answer too,” You assured him. “If you’re so curious, I’m just now going to see my mother at the library. Save you the trouble of following me… you don’t seem the reading type.”
He grinned and tucked his hands in his pockets. “The pie will be a nice surprise,” He turned to let you through “Unfortunately, I do have to get back.”
“Mmmhmm,” You grumbled and slowly edged by him.
You felt his gaze on you as you passed him. The heat of it lingered as you continued down the sidewalk. You didn’t dare to look back. You knew he was watching you. The eerie sensation did not relent until you shielded yourself beyond the library doors.
💀
You waited three days before you followed up. Things moved slow in a small town but not everything. Change was stark, too. As you stepped inside the same doors as days before, you found your welcome not so warm. The tea shop, also a cafe, was the first on your agenda. Doris smiled and took your order but was evasive when you asked after your resume. It was much the same at each stop you made. A hollow weight settled in your chest.
Babs was her usual jovial self but paled as you asked if she had even part-time hours for you. She shook her head and muttered about low sales in a small town and all those other excuses. You frowned but accepted the rejection. You bought a half-dozen macadamia cookies and headed out. At Lloyd’s, you found Lucius amid several stacks of book as he raised his brows at the titles.
“Lu,” You greeted. “Hey.”
“You finished that book already?” He asked without looking away.
“Halfway there,” You said. “I was just… checking in.”
“Mmm,” He set a book in one of the neater stacks. “Yes, I supposed you’d be by sooner than later.”
You stepped into the middle of the mess and glanced around. He was sorting by author and genre. No doubt a new haul from a resident clearing their shelves. You took a book and placed it in its respective stack. He paused and looked at you.
“My girl,” He began hesitantly.
“I know, you got nothing for me,” You nodded. “Just like everyone else. It’s okay.”
“Well, that’s not what I was gonna say at all,” He reproached. “I don’t care what that goon says, I could use someone on Sundays and you’ll get a few hours Mondays and Tuesdays. Not much, I know, but I gather it could help.”
“Oh, Lu,” You smiled and squeezed his arm. “So… he… what did he say to you?”
“Some nonsense about books being flammable, like I don’t know,” He scoffed. “I got insurance on this place. My granddaddy was no fool when he opened this place. He wants to burn it down, he can go right ahead. My payout will cover fresh paperbacks and the newest gadgets. He’d be doing me a favour, really.”
“You don’t have to--”
“I seen it before. As young as you are, I know you have too.” He continued sorting as he spoke. “You should’ve never pulled that knife but were I a younger man and there, I might’ve done the same.”
“Trust me, I know it was stupid,” You uttered. “Especially now but… Artie’s heart was about to burst.”
“Artie’s been on the edge of a heart attack for six years. I’m surprised those brutes didn’t push him over it,” Lu shook his head. “You got a place here, dear. Maybe look for something online. I don’t know much, just enough to order stock, but I’m sure you could find something. Town like this and a man like him, you won’t.”
“Thanks,” You set another sci-fi novel in a pile. “I appreciate it, really.”
“I know it’s not much,” He frowned.
“No, no, I’ll make do,” You assured him. “But Lu…”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t go getting yourself hurt over me.”
“I’m an old man.” He winked at you and grabbed another book, “I’ll do whatever I want.”
💀
You stopped in front of your mother’s house. You were tempted to kick over the metal beast that greeted you. It wasn’t hard to guess at its owner. You held your key up and admired it. A nice long scratch along the gas tank? Maybe a tear in the leather seat? You weren’t that stupid.
You took your usual detour to the back. Ash was sitting at the back door, growling. He perked up when you came through the gate but didn’t move. He let you pet him but you kept him outside as you slipped inside. You listened as you kicked off your shoes to the voices in the kitchen.
“That’ll be her,” Your mother said. She was friendly enough but you sensed the tension in her voice. “You need sugar?”
“No, black is fine,” Bucky answered and the hairs stood on your neck.
You walked into the kitchen and ignored the man at the table as you crossed to your mother. She filled a mug with coffee as you set down the box of cookies.
“Mom,” You greeted her with a smile and turned to the unexpected and unwanted visitor with arms crossed. “What do you want?”
“Hon, be nice,” Your mother poked you as she picked up the cup. “He just came here to talk.”
“Here,” You turned and took the mug from her. “You guys done talking then?”
“Not with me,” She said quietly and whispered as she turned her back to him. “Don’t go starting more trouble.”
You brushed past her and went to the table. You set the mug down and slid it across to him. “Fine. Talk.”
“You know, Mel, I think I’ll take some milk,” He said over your head.
You rolled your eyes as the fridge opened and closed. Your mother placed the carton of milk beside him with a small spoon and retreated.
“Now,” He poured the milk and stirred his coffee slowly. “I just wanted to see how the job hunt was going.”
“I think you know.” You sneered. “Mom, can you excuse us for a minute?”
“I don’t--” She began but stopped. “I’ll go check on Ash.”
You waited for her to leave. You folded your hands on the table and glared at Bucky.
“How dare you come into my mother’s house like this.” You snapped. “You think you’re scaring me?”
“If I wanted to scare you, you wouldn’t have walked into such a peaceable scene,” He returned evenly. “I don’t do half-measures.”
“Don’t you threaten her,” You retorted. “You can hound me but I will not have you going after her.”
“I haven’t done anything.” He smirked. “Really, you are paranoid. I have offered you a job and I have even offered my personal reference to your prospective employers.”
“Bullshit,” You said. “I know what you’re doing. I told you, I’m not interested. I got a job.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow. “Where’s that?”
“None of your business,” You snarled. “Now thank you for the offer but I will again politely decline it. Thank you.”
“How much?” He asked.
“What?”
“How much is he paying you? I know it’s that grumpy old man with his books,” He scoffed. “Twelve hours a week. You think you can survive on that?”
“I think I told you no three times and I’m not gonna say it again.” You said.
“Sixteen an hour plus tips,” He took a drink of coffee. “People are generous when they drink.”
“Not interested.” You said through your teeth.
“Eighteen,” He countered. “Benefits too. You think Lucy gets her kids to the dentist for free.” You repeated yourself and he chuckled as he ran his fingertips along the stubble that lined his jaw. “Twenty.”
“You almost done your coffee?” You asked.
“You were a lot quieter in school,” He mused. “Didn’t realize you were so damn stubborn.”
“You need a waitress and you offering money like that, you can just head down to the Saucer and shout it out. They’ll be snapping at you.” You said.
His lips curled and he gripped the edge of the table. He took another gulp of coffee and cleared his throat. “I don’t know if you’re that oblivious or you’re playing with me.”
You were quiet. You stared at him dumbly. Heat crawled up your spine.
“I don’t want a waitress. I want you.” His jaw squared and his eyes sparked. “And while it was cute to see you holding that knife to my man’s throat, I can’t have you running around kicking dirt in my face.”
You swallowed and kept your expression staunch. “Not interested.” You enunciated the words carefully.
He clicked his tongue and tilted his head. He laughed darkly to himself and finished his coffee. His chair scraped loudly as he stood and took his coat off the back of it. He pulled the leather on as his eyes met yours.
“You just remember what happened to your daddy.” He intoned.
“I don’t remember him at all,” You said through the twinge in your chest. “Your club made sure of that, didn’t they?”
He growled and rounded the table. You looked up at him as his fingertips glossed over the tabletop. He leaned down until his lips nearly touched your cheek.
“You’ll remember your ma, though.” Your hand shot up and he recoiled, quick to catch it. He smiled as he squeezed your wrist. “You think about my offer one last time.” He said slowly. “You can come get your apron on Monday… or I’ll be dropping by on Tuesday.”
He stood straight and released you. He smoothed his leather jacket and strolled through to the back hallway. The door opened and you heard your mother’s surprised greeting and Bucky’s sickly farewell. Your mouth was dry and your heart raced as if you had just run a mile.
You stared at the old oval frame between the windows. Your mother under the arm of a man who shouldn’t have been a stranger. A man who you seemingly took after. Who, despite his absence, could teach you an important lesson; know when to stop pushing your luck.
#smalltown bringdown#series#Bucky Barnes#biker!bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#dark bucky barnes x reader#dark!bucky barnes x reader#dark!fic#dark fic#fic#mcu#marvel#au#biker au#captain america
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Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 21
“Maybe one day I’ll get hit by a train.”
Masterlist
Of all the sad things I've heard, "I used to be so happy" is the most heartbreaking of all.
And so their routines continued.
Every Monday through to Friday, Thomas would visit Dorothy at the bakery for her lunch break. They'd get a meal and share it, all the while exchanging opinions on topics that meant nothing and everything.
Thomas remembered one specific time where the two exchanged an incredibly vulnerable chat. Thomas begged the question-.
——
"What do you fear the most?"
Dorothy put down her fork and was silent for a moment.
"Y'know what, Bubs. I don't think I'm afraid of death. I think one day I just decided it wasn't a burden to me. I suppose after smelling death in the air for as long as I have, you learn that it always just tends to sit there. On your shoulder. On your back.
Death is not a burden, more just a train to a location that we never really know the destination to.
"I think maybe my biggest fear at the moment might be losing you." She smiled sheepishly at the ground, "you're the only friend I've had that I desperately want to stick around. I'm not afraid of you dying. No. You seem like you've been able to cheat death like a game of charades your whole life.
"My biggest fear is you'll see me one day in the market on a Tuesday morning or whatever and instead of coming over with a hug and greeting, you'll look at me and see all my flaws. My nose, my chapped lips, the way my hair never sits straight. You'll think about my random spouts of rambles and how I can't sit still. You'll think about how obnoxious I am with my stupid camera.
You wake up one day and decide that for no reason in particular, that you just don't like me anymore.
"I'm terrified that I'll stop living again. Loneliness is not a fear of mine, but not living is. I'm terrified that one day I'll go to work, you'll be gone, and I won't be living anymore. I'd hate to have been given a life by whatever deity is up there, and not live it."
Dorothy settled her hands in her lap, forgetting about the tray of food in front of her. Midway through her speech, Thomas froze and dropped his fork, neither of the two seemed to realise.
Thomas, unsure what to say, nodded and with another pause said, "I really hope nothing like that happens. I suppose I fear that as well. That one day you'll see me the way I see myself."
His words were not a declaration of his feelings, but in that moment alone, Thomas was more vulnerable than he had been his whole life. Even before the mud and picks.
Dorothy moved the tray of food out of the way, she climbed across the crate and kneeled next to him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a comfortable side hug. Thomas reached to the side and wrapped his arms around her torso, leaning into her ribs and just shutting his eyes.
They stayed like that for another moment, before she pulled back and dug herself into his side, she then placed the tray on her lap and got back to eating.
Thomas picked up his fork and copied the action.
Without much thought to his words, Thomas stared abruptly, "you're incredibly straightforward, Bonny."
Dorothy smiled and chuckled a bit to herself
"I love being horribly straightforward. I love making reckless actions and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolute magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying 'hug me harder' and 'you're a good person' and 'you brighten up my day'. I live my life as straightforward as possible.
"Because one day I might get hit by a train." Thomas raised a brow at her words.
"That's right. Maybe it's weird. Maybe it's scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be- to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them whether it's your feet on their thighs on the sofa or your arms around their waist or your heart in their hands.
"But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate. And there is nothing more risky than pretending to not care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.
We never know when the train is coming."
Dorothy was now staring off a bit into the distance, her gaze transfixed on nothing in particular.
"That's uh-." Thomas started.
"-intense? a lot? I know. Before you came along, I had far too much time to think."
——
Their escapades of personal conversations ended for that day, but Thomas found himself thinking back to all the things she'd said. He liked her train analogy it sat well with him and he supposed in that moment he registered he fact that this girls mind goes far deeper than he imagined. She was insanely intelligent, not in a necessarily academic way, but more people smart. She understood people, maybe it was from the fact that she spent a long time just observing people.
But she kept saying those words, or they kept repeating in his head, "until you came along."
He thought about all the things that had changed for him since she'd come along.
He drank less. He frowned less. He started to smile more. He found his shoulders no longer held the tense knots that wove their way into his bone. He could finally stand himself!
It seemed that a lot had changed for her. He wasn't sure maybe what had changed, but he hoped it was good. He hoped that she was better. That she was happy. That maybe she too, could finally stand herself.
——
Dorothy and Thomas both found that they finally had something to look forward to. They woke up and stared at the clock waiting to be able to get a glimpse of each other.
But what Dorothy loved the most was Saturday nights. While most girls would probably go out to the town for a drink and dance, she probably would too except she lacked the former.
But now, she had something better than drinks and dancing. Saturday was the day where her patience was truly tested. On Saturdays, Thomas didn't visit on her lunch break, instead, he appeared in the evening and sat with her while she baked for the week. He just sat and sometimes they talked, and sometimes they sat in silence for hours; only the sound of Dorothy's quiet humming filling the air.
On the fifth week of their evening meetings, Thomas danced with her. Dorothy rifled through her collection and put on a slightly paced piece that Thomas remembered before the war.
Thomas, without much warning stood up with a slight joking groan as if his limbs ached from the sheer effort.
"C'mon Bonny, you can't put on a song like this and not expect me to ask you to dance." Thomas declared with a wide gesture which made Dorothy giggle slightly.
"Oh very well then. But I warn you, I'll show you up." She grinned cockily.
Thomas merely raised an eyebrow to challenge her, something he did quite often. Not because he doubted her, quite the contrary, but rather that he wanted to see just how far she could go.
Thomas took her hands and brought them closer to him. She put one hand on his shoulder and held his hand with hers. He rested a hand on her waist as he clutched her other hand. The two danced around the kitchen, as Thomas dipped her in the small glow of the furnace light.
She giggled each time he leant forward to support her as she leant back, he allowed the bow to go further and further until she was almost sure her back would break if she went any further, "Bubs, back up! My spine's gonna snap if you don't lift me back up!" She patted his shoulder desperately and held his hand tighter.
Thomas only tightened the hook he had around her waist and smiled with mischief in his eyes.
Finally relenting and pulling her back up to end the song.
The two parted ways when Dorothy had to take the last of the sweets out of the ovens. She had also made a habit of making extra Billion dollar Bubs because she knew they were his favourite.
Once the night had ended and they'd eaten the extra food, a final song came on. A slow song. Thomas caught her eye with a lopsided grin and made a wild and dramatic gesture with a bow as he held his hand out for her to take.
Dorothy only shook her head as she took his hand and squealed a bit when he tugged her very close quite abruptly. Dorothy latched her arms around his neck and nestled her cheek to his chest as he attached his arms to her waist again.
She listened to his heartbeat and found it slow and relaxed. She hummed to the music feeling the tune reverberate through her ears. Thomas leaned his head forward and rested his chin on the top of her head. He sighed in content.
The two were an odd and unusual pair, but it was quickly established that the two might as well have been made for each other. She was a perfect source of warmth to his ice-like stares. He was a perfect sedative to the chaos in her mind.
The two could barely contain their anticipation for the next week or the next time they could see each other. Craving the others touch or scent or presence.
Watch carefully, the magic that occurs, when you give a person, just enough comfort, to be themselves.
——
SO MUCH FLUFF!
Thanks for the love.
Feedback and comments are wanted.
See ya next time!
#tommyshelby#peaky blinders story#peakyblinders#thomas#thomas shelby#thomas shelby fluff#thomas shelby x oc#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x oc#peaky blinder fanfic#thomasshelbyfluff#thomas shelby fic#thomasshelby#thomas shelby fanfic#peakyblinderstv#peaky fookin blinders
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What if I Kissed You? - bbh
⤑ genre: Roommate AU! fluff, maybe a bit of angst
⤑ pairing: Baekhyun x Reader
⤑ warning: none really
⤑ summary: Moving in with your best friends ex boyfriend sounds like nothing but trouble, even if he has a girlfriend. But what happens when they break up?
⤑ word count: 2.5k
a/n: This is so cute and I love Baekhyun with all my heart. He is such a sweet baby boy and I just love him so damn much U G H. Anyway~! Thank you for reading and as always, please leave feedback! I love hearing what you guys have to say! It helps me improve! ~K♡
You couldn't say that moving in with Baekhyun was a mistake.
You met Baekhyun through a college friend. When you brought up your living situation, you expected her to offer the empty second bedroom in her place but instead she pointed you in the direction of her ex, whom she was on relatively good terms with.
She contacted him and the two of you agreed to meet in person. You should have said no the moment you met him. He was gorgeous and kind with a good sense of humor and gave off a general “good person” aura. He was everything you wanted in a man. You were screwed.
The first week together was really awkward, trying to figure out the dynamic of living together. The second week went by smoothly and by the end of the month, everything fell into place and you were becoming good friends.
Not too long after moving in, you found out that Baekhyun had a girlfriend. That didn't bother you honestly. You just asked him to give you a head’s up when she was coming over. Baekhyun was nothing but a gentleman and you never heard a peep from his room.
Before long, you'd been living with Baekhyun for 6 months. In that time, you had both fallen into a routine. You both worked regular 9 to 5 jobs, Monday through Friday with weekends off. You made breakfast in the mornings, packed lunches for the two of you, mostly Baekhyun since he had a bad habit of going out to eat all the time, and made dinner at night.
Baekhyun was probably the best roommate you had ever had. He was quiet, clean, easy to talk to, and just fun to be around in general. The household chores were split 50/50 between the two of you. Baekhyun took out the trash, cleaned the bathrooms and living room while you took care of the kitchen, cleaning the bedrooms, and laundry.
Tuesday night was date night for Baekhyun and his girlfriend, Kairi, but Thursday night was movie night at the apartment, only the two of you. Your ritual included each of you picking two movies, ordering food halfway through the first film, and piling blankets and pillows on the couch like a nest.
The routine never broke. Until one Tuesday night, Baekhyun came home, eyes red and slammed the front door shut. You had been sitting on the couch watching TV when he came home and the loud bang of the door caused you to jump.
“Oh shit,” Baekhyun said when he saw you turn and look at him with wide eyes. “I didn't see you there,” he said putting on a fake smile. You muted the TV before turning in your seat. You knew something was up. You could see it in his face.
“What's wrong?” you asked and Baekhyun shook his head. “Don't worry about it. I'm gonna go to bed,” he said giving you another fake cheerful smile. You didn't want to push it so you let him retreat to his room. You found out the next day that he found out Kairi was cheating on him.
You were furious.
You were there for Baekhyun the best you could be. He only left the apartment to go to work. When he was home, he was in his room and refused to come out. You took to doing his chores, adding on to your already existing workload, but you didn't complain. He was hurting and you knew that.
You stayed throughout his rebellious phase, where he went out with friends and got home late, drunk, and usually with a different girl each night. He didn't keep it down anymore either. You had gone to the store the morning after a particularly noisy night and purchased a pack of earplugs.
You didn't say anything to him of course. It was his apartment.
His rebellious phase lasted for about 3 months after the breakup. Movie nights happened alone now. Baekhyun was usually out with his friends so you watched the movies by yourself on Thursdays.
One Thursday night, you were halfway through Jurassic Park when the door opened and Baekhyun's friends came in, half carrying him. You got up as they deposited him on the couch.
“What happened?” you asked looking from your half conscious roommate to his friends. “He drank too much. He needs to sleep it off,” Chanyeol, his tall friend said. They left and you struggled to get Baekhyun to his room.
You slept in his room that night, on a palette you made next to his bed. You woke up every hour to check on him and made sure he didn't die in his sleep. You were probably being over dramatic but you didn't care.
The next morning you woke up before Baekhyun, cleaned up the palette and started making breakfast. You had just finished when Baekhyun emerged from the hall, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his hair sticking up.
“Morning sunshine,” you said jokingly as he approached the island counter. He looked confused. “How did I get home?” he asked taking a seat as you set a bowl in front of him. “Chanyeol brought you home,” you said moving to fetch a cup of coffee for him. “I don't remember coming home,” he replied. You could hear how hoarse his voice was.
“How did I get into bed? Did Chanyeol put me in there?” he asked watching you. “No. I did,” you replied not meeting his eyes. Baekhyun waited for you to look at him and eventually you did. “...you put me to bed? How? I must have weighed a ton,” he joked. You nodded. “You're really heavy when you're passed out,” you replied with a smirk.
Baekhyun broke into a smile. The first real smile you'd seen in months. After that night, he didn't go out drinking and suffice it to say, you were glad and so were his friends. Baekhyun joined in movie nights again. He was almost back to normal.
Almost.
Movie nights had returned, Baekhyun wasn't going out and getting drunk every night, things were good; until Kairi showed up. You were waiting on your delivery order, a movie on the screen when the doorbell rang. Baekhyun was sitting on the couch and you got up to answer it.
Kairi looked you up and down with a sort of glare before clearing her throat. “Is Baekhyun here?” she asked and you glanced over your shoulder at Baekhyun who turned in his seat. “Kairi?” he asked and she pushed past you into the apartment. She took a seat next to him. Your seat and you felt your blood boil.
“I need to talk to you,” she said urgently and then threw a pointed look in your direction. Baekhyun’s wide eyes landed on you and you nodded, retreating to your room. The minutes ticked by before you heard a door slamming and then silence. You waited, holding your breath as you listened until there was a soft knock at the door.
Baekhyun opened the door and peered in, his eyes locking with yours. You stood quickly as he opened the door fully. “What happened?” you asked and he gave you a smile, a small one that you were glad to see wasn’t forced. “She tried to get back together. Lied about being pregnant, or something, I wasn’t really listening. I told her we were through and that I wanted nothing more to do with her.” He crossed his arms and leaned against your door frame.
“She thinks there’s something between us because ‘roommates don’t cuddle on the couch and watch movies.’ Heh,” he said shaking his head. “I told her we do. It’s our thing,” he added, smiling at you. The two of you headed back into the living room to finish the movie as the food arrived on time.
Soon you were coming up on a year since you moved in and Baekhyun remembered. You came home one Thursday night to find him already setting up for movie night but something was different this time. “What are you doing?” you asked him as you pulled off your jacket.
Baekhyun threw more pillows and blankets on the couch. Candles littered the coffee table as well as the small console table behind the couch. “I found all these candles in the closet and they smell really good! Come smell them!” he said motioning you over. You let out a laugh but walked over all the same.
Your nostrils were greeted by a mix of cranberry, vanilla, and something that smelled remarkably like apple pie. “This is so weird,” you noted with a chuckle. “Go change. I already picked out my movies!” Baekhyun said and you left to change out of your work clothes. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, but you weren’t going to question it.
Upon returning, the lights had been turned off. Baekhyun sat in his spot on the couch, waiting for you to choose your movies and join him. You sifted through your library and picked out two movies before taking a seat on the couch next to Baekhyun and piling blankets on top of you. Baekhyun started the first movie and soon you were engrossed by the film on screen.
Halfway through the film, Baekhyun pulled out his phone to order food. The two of you picked black bean noodles from a nearby cafe you both really liked and placed the order. You knew before the end of the film they would arrive because of the close proximity.
As if by magic, you were right and the food arrived with 15 minutes left in the first film. Baekhyun paid for the meal and brought the bowls over. You ate in silence while the movie ended and the credits rolled. Baekhyun kept picking mushrooms out of his bowl and placing them in yours when he thought you weren’t looking. He was being exceptionally affectionate tonight.
The second film was your choice, a horror film you’d never seen but wanted to check out. As the plot unraveled on screen, you found yourself drifting toward Baekhyun. It wasn’t until you noticed his arm draped over the back of couch behind you and his hand absentmindedly rubbing your shoulder, that you realized how close you were sitting.
The third movie was Baekhyun’s pick. A movie you’d seen plenty of times. A cute animated film with sad undertones but a happy ending. As the credits rolled, tears streamed down your face, you glanced over at Baekhyun who was watching you instead of the screen. He had a smile on his face. You covered your crying and groaned.
“Why are you looking at me when I’m crying?!” you almost shouted. Baekhyun let out a laugh and gently grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands from your face. “Yah, (Y/N), look at me~!” he said and you rolled away from him, nearly falling off the couch as you did. Baekhyun caught you just before you fell face first onto the floor.
“Be careful~!” he said pulling you back up. Your eyes locked for a moment and everything around you faded away. You could only focus on the way he stared at you, eyes on yours before they glanced down to your lips and back up. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “I’ll start the last movie,” he said getting up and moving over to the DVD player. You sat up and pulled one of the blankets up around your shoulders, wrapping yourself up.
The third film was a happy one. You never ended the night on a sad or scary note. It always had to be happy. That was the rule. You were halfway through the movie when you noticed Baekhyun wasn’t watching it. You turned to look at him, his eyes trained on your face, a smile still present on his lips.
“What?” you asked softly and he said nothing, only shaking his head as his smile grew. You shrugged and turned your attention back to the movie. You had seen this one plenty of times but you needed something to take your focus off Baekhyun and the way he was staring at you.
He had as your friends would say, literal heart eyes, right now. Finally you couldn’t take it and you turned to him, pausing the movie beforehand. “What is up with you?” you asked and he rested his head in his hand. “Can I ask you something?” he asked and you rolled your eyes. “You just did, Baek,” you said smartly and he stuck his tongue out. “Alright, I’m going to ask you something now,” he corrected himself. You turned giving him your full attention.
“If I kissed you right now, what would you do?” he asked softly, eyes glancing down at your lips. You felt your face heat up and your heartbeat quicken. What was he saying? You opened your mouth to respond but no sound came out. You tried a few times to speak but you couldn’t.
Baekhyun smirked, leaning in. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he asked playfully and without thinking, you leaned in, closing the distance and pressed your lips firmly against his.
Baekhyun froze under your touch and you pulled away quickly. “S-sorry,” you stammered and scooted away from him. “I-i… uh,” you said but you couldn’t come up with a reason why you just did that. Why you just kissed your roommate.
You had been harboring a tiny crush on him since you moved in, but you never said anything due to the fact that he was your roommate and he had a girlfriend at the time. You just kept it to yourself and eventually, you even forgot that you felt that way.
Instead of saying anything, Baekhyun grabbed your arm and pulled you back over, lips finding yours in the darkness. Your heart leapt into your throat and your stomach did flips as you returned the gesture. Baekhyun’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, deepening the kiss until you had to pull away or your lungs would burst.
The two of you sat still trying to catch your breath. Baekhyun leaned his forehead against yours before smiling widely. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said softly and you looked up at him. “How long?” you asked quietly, almost afraid of his answer.
“Since Kairi and I broke up. Actually, since before. It’s been eating at me since you moved in. I never said anything because I didn’t think you felt the same way so I let it be but I just,” he said trailing off and looked around the apartment. “I couldn’t hold back anymore,” he added with a grin.
You smiled back and leaned in, pressing a quick peck to his lips. “Then don’t,” you said. Baekhyun pulled you into his lap and snuggled deeper into the nest of blankets and pillows he made. “I won’t.”
#exo scenarios#exo reactions#exo imagines#exo drabbles#exo oneshot#byun baekhyun#exo#exo byun baekhyun#exo baekhyun#baekhyun#baekhyun scenarios#baekhyun imagines#baekhyun drabbles#baekhyun oneshot#baekhyun fluff#baekhyun angst#exo fluff#exo angst#kwanisms
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You’ve Got SPRQS a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction
A/N: OMG you guys are all so amazing for all your comments! I'm so appreciative of you all for reading this and supporting me! And the moment you have all been waiting for, it's time for Red and Billy's date!
As always thank you to aubreyrichman for her edits and feedback!
They still belong to Austin Winsberg, but for now I will continue to borrow them!
The song is "Friday I'm In Love" by The Cure (Listen to it here https://youtu.be/ucX9hVCQT_U)
Summary: It's finally time for Red and Billy to meet....
Chapter 7
Chapter 6
Chapter 5
Chapter 4
Chapter 3
Chapter 2
Chapter 1
Chapter 7
Zoey woke up Friday morning surprisingly calm. Today was the day she was going to meet Billy, and she wasn't nervous, in fact, she was excited.
She even brought coffee and doughnuts for the whole team; she was in that good of a mood.
"What gives with the good mood, Boss Lady?" Tobin asked as he worked on his third doughnut of the morning.
"Nothing, I'm just having a really good week," she said grinning.
Tobin shrugged his shoulders and grabbed another doughnut as he walked away.
"Oh, before I forget I need to leave a little early today. I've got a ….thing," Max explained awkwardly.
"Oh sure, not a problem. It's not like things are busy," Zoey smiled at him. "Does it have to do with your secret project that you still haven't told me anything about?"
Max blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "In a way it does. I promise after tonight I'll tell you all about my project."
"I'll hold you to that," Zoey grinned.
She tried hard to focus on work all day, but it was impossible to. She found herself listening again to the songs that Billy had played for her. After making their date plans, he had sent her another song, one that was quickly becoming her favorite.
I don't care if Monday's blue
Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too
Thursday, I don't care about you
It's Friday, I'm in love
Monday you can fall apart
Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart
Oh, Thursday doesn't even start
It's Friday, I'm in love
Saturday, wait
And Sunday always comes too late
But Friday, never hesitate
I don't care if Monday's black
Tuesday, Wednesday, heart attack
Thursday, never looking back
It's Friday, I'm in love
Monday you can hold your head
Tuesday, Wednesday, stay in bed
Or Thursday watch the walls instead
It's Friday, I'm in love
Saturday, wait
And Sunday always comes too late
But Friday, never hesitate
Dressed up to the eyes
It's a wonderful surprise
To see your shoes and your spirits rise
Throw out your frown
And just smile at the sound
Sleek as a shriek, spinning 'round and 'round
Always take a big bite
It's such a gorgeous sight
To see you eat in the middle of the night
You can never get enough
Enough of this stuff
It's Friday, I'm in love
I don't care if Monday's blue
Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too
Thursday, I don't care about you
It's Friday, I'm in love
Monday you can fall apart
Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart
Thursday doesn't even start
It's Friday, I'm in love
Do-do, do-do, do-do, do
Do-do, do-do, do-do, do
(Oh, oh, whoa, whoa)
It was adorable how excited he was about their date. Zoey couldn't help but hum along to the song as she thought about meeting him.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped, turning to see it was Max.
She hit pause on the recording and pulled off her headphones.
"Were you just humming ‘Friday I'm In Love’?" Max asked, giving her an odd look.
Zoey shrugged, "I don't know what it’s called. It was something I heard earlier at the doughnut shop and it just sort of got stuck in my head," she lied.
Max nodded slowly, still looking at her as though he was trying to figure something out. "Anyway, I'm heading out. But we're still on for taking Peter to his playdate, tomorrow right?"
Zoey smiled, "Yeah. Want to meet at David and Emily's around noon?"
"Sure. It's a date, a playdate that is," he winked at her.
Zoey chuckled and rolled her eyes, "Will you get out of here!"
Max grinned and headed to the elevators.
"Hey Mo, what brings you here?" Zoey heard him ask.
She sprinted over to the elevators in an effort to keep Mo from revealing anything.
"Hey, Max-a-licious. I'm just here to see Zoey," Mo smiled at him.
"With a garment bag, shoes, and a makeup kit?" Max asked skeptically.
"Well, it's because…" Mo began.
"It's because Mo is taking me out tonight!" Zoey butted in, breathing heavily.
Max raised his eyebrows at her, "Right…"
Mo sent Zoey an exasperated look. "She's right, I've been dying to drag her out for a night on the town! She finally agreed, and I'm here to make sure she looks her best!"
"Ahh. Well, have fun you two. Try and stay out of trouble," Max smiled as he got in the elevator.
"With me, never?" Mo laughed.
Zoey took a deep breath as soon as the elevator doors closed.
Mo shook his head, "Come on we've got work to do."
After what felt like hours, but was really only forty minutes, Mo had worked his magic and made Zoey date ready. Her makeup was simple, a slightly heavier eye than normal, and medium red lips. Mo helped her into her red flower dress, so she didn't mess up her hair or makeup. She slid into her black wedges and looked in the mirror. She grinned at Mo, "What do you think?"
The door to the bathroom opened and in came Tobin. He let out a whistle, "Wow Boss Lady, you sure clean up nice. Got a hot date? Oooo is that why you brought us doughnuts?!"
Zoey blinked, "Umm yes, as a matter of fact, I do have a date."
"Nice!" Tobin gave her a high five. He glanced at Mo, "Props for the styling. It compliments her natural look but is still date-worthy."
Mo grinned, "A man with an eye for style, I approve."
"By the way, Joan was looking for you, Z-Dog," Tobin said. "I'll go tell her you'll be right there."
"Thanks, Tobin," Zoey said, helping Mo to gather everything up.
"No problem. Whoever the lucky guy is, you're gonna knock his socks off," he said grinning as he walked out the door.
Joan was waiting in the lobby when Zoey and Mo finally emerged.
"Come on, you don't want to be late!" Joan said grabbing her arm and dragging her to the elevators.
"Umm Mo, Joan. Joan, Mo," Zoey awkwardly introduced them.
Mo smiled at Joan, "So are you here to make sure this guy isn't an axe murderer, or because you're dying to know what this guy looks like?"
"Both? But mostly the latter," Joan responded.
Mo laughed, "Oh, we're gonna get along just fine."
They made it to Golden Gate Grind in record time. They still had a minute before the arranged time and Zoey's nerves were beginning to kick in.
"This was stupid. I'm going to go home; I can't do this!" She paced back and forth, frantically gesturing at herself.
"What was I thinking? Oh, sure we've only talked for a few days, let's meet up! Yeah, that doesn't make you sound desperate or crazy, Zoey."
"No that doesn't, but pacing around talking to yourself certainly does," Mo interrupted Zoey's rambling.
Joan nodded, "Look, just take a deep breath."
Zoey breathed in loudly. "Okay, not that deep."
She leaned against the wall with her eyes closed.
"Look, how about I peek in and see if I can spot him? That way if he looks like a crazy person we can just leave," Joan offered.
Zoey looked at her, "That's actually not a bad idea."
Joan nodded and turned to the window. "So, what am I looking for? How are you supposed to know it's him?"
Zoey mumbled something.
"What? I didn't catch that."
"He said he would have a Code Red Mountain Dew since it's my favorite…." Zoey blushed.
Joan and Mo caught one another's eyes and burst into laughter.
"Only you Zo-Zo, only you," Mo said shaking his head and wiping away tears of laughter.
"Can we please focus," Zoey huffed.
"Sorry, sorry," Joan collected herself. "Ooo okay, I see the Code Red. I can't really see him too well, someone is in the way. He appears to be wearing a nice grey blazer over a very dark purple shirt. So, he at least can dress himself, always a plus."
Zoey nodded, not really listening after Joan had said that she spotted him. He was here, she couldn't back out now.
"Oh, okay the other person is leaving and he looks…." She trailed off.
"He looks what? Old? Crazy? Like a mime?" Zoey prompted.
Joan turned to look at her. "Well, you know how Max looks?"
"Max? My best friend Max? Of course, I know how he looks."
"Well, he sort of has a similar look to Max," Joan explained.
"What do you mean, similar look to Max?"
"Well, Max is attractive…"
"Yes, Max is attractive, but he's also my best friend, so I haven't thought of him like that,” Zoey lied. “Besides why would you even bring him up at a time like this? "
"Well, you might want to start thinking about him like that….because your mystery guy is Max."
Zoey's mouth dropped open and she quickly moved to Joan's side to look through the window. Sure enough, Max was sitting there waiting with a bottle of Mountain Dew Code Red on the table.
"What? How? Wha?" She mumbled.
Zoey felt her palms sweating as she tried to follow what was happening. Billy, who she had spent all week flirting with and starting to fall for, was Max. Max, her best friend who she was in love with, was her mystery piano player...Her eyes widened as she realized that meant that Max was the one responsible for her feverish dreams as of late.
Mo came up behind her and grinned as he spotted Max. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go get your man!"
Zoey shook her head. "He's expecting Red, and I'm not her, at least not in the way that Max is hoping. I'll just be a disappointment."
"Straight people," Mo muttered. "So what, you're going to let that poor boy sit there all night? Just tell him the truth, it could work out better than you think."
"No, of course, I won't let him just sit there. I'll figure something out," Zoey took a calming breath and headed to the cafe door.
"I appreciate you guys coming with me, but I think we know Max is perfectly safe. I'll let you know how things go later." She opened the door and walked inside.
"I have no intention of missing this, do you?" Mo asked Joan.
"Considering I've been working with someone to arrange this whole situation, even a sale at Chanel couldn't get me away!" Joan responded.
Mo looked at Joan, impressed, "I'm going to need details about this...later though."
The pair turned their eyes back to the window to watch.
Zoey entered the cafe, looking everywhere but in Max's direction at first. She walked up to the counter and ordered a latte. She took her drink and walked in Max's direction.
"Max? Is that you?"
Max looked up startled and quickly stood up.
"Oh hey, Zoey...uh I thought you were having a night out with Mo," he said nervously.
"Oh well, something came up with Eddie, so Mo had to leave. And I figured since I was all dolled up, I might as well treat myself to a coffee."
Max nodded, his eyes glancing at the door as it opened, and a couple came in.
"Are you meeting somebody?" Zoey asked, hoping she didn't sound as nervous as she felt.
"Umm yeah, someone is supposed to meet me here" Max admitted.
"Oh, well I'll just go sit over there and leave you alone, then," Zoey said pointing to the other side of the cafe.
"No! I mean, you can sit right here at the table next to me. It would be nice to have someone to talk to while I wait for her."
Zoey raised her eyebrows and took a seat, as Max sat back down and began nervously playing with the bottle of soda.
"Her? Max, is this a date?" Zoey asked innocently, fully knowing the answer.
Max blushed, "Well, sort of? I think? I want it to be."
Zoey looked at him in confusion, "So, it's not a date? How long have you been seeing this girl?"
"Well...see that's the thing….I haven't actually met her….that's what this whole thing is, the first meeting." Max explained, embarrassed.
"Well, then how did you find her?"
"You know that dating app SPRQS? I sort of signed up for it, and then I messaged this girl. And we just connected you know? So, we messaged back and forth and decided that we wanted to meet."
Zoey sat there quietly, unsure of how to respond. She wanted to tell him she really did. Just come right out and say, ‘Here I am, CodeRedLeader at your service. By the way, your fingers have been haunting my sleep with their talents!’
But Max was interested in Red, not Zoey. Zoey would be a disappointment. No, better to not tell him.
"So, when is the mystery girl supposed to be here?" She asked.
Max glanced at his watch, "She was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago. Must have gotten held up with work or something."
"Hmmm," Zoey responded. "So, what does this have to do with your secret project?" She decided to steer the conversation to a safer topic.
"Well, I've been sending her recordings of songs I play on the piano," Max grinned.
"Oh wow, Max, that's awesome!" Her heart fluttered as she realized that the recordings that she listened to constantly were the work of the man in front of her. She groaned internally, just when she thought she couldn't be more attracted to him.
She glanced at his hands as he explained how it had gotten him back into playing music, how helpful and relaxing it had been for him. He started telling her the different songs he had recorded for her, and how he had more planned for the future.
"Am I boring you?" Max asked, taking in her dazed expression.
"No, I...like seeing this side of you"* she said, glancing at his lips.
"Oh, cool. Anyway, it’s been such a great opportunity…" he trailed off as the cafe door opened again, and an older woman walked in.
Zoey looked as well, "So if you've never met her, then how are you supposed to know who she is?"
Max smiled, "Because I promised I'd have her favorite drink waiting for her."
Zoey's eyes reluctantly darted to the Mountain Dew bottle. "That's her favorite drink?"
"So she claims," Max chuckled.
"Well, she certainly sounds….unique?" Zoey responded.
Max couldn't help the soppy smile that appeared on his face, "She's great. I feel like I know her so well already."
"You have no idea," Zoey muttered as she took another sip of her drink.
"Actually, she reminds me a little of you," he said.
Zoey nearly choked on her drink, "Me?" She managed to squeak out.
"Well, she's a Star Wars fan, like you, she's smart and funny, and we just click, sort of like how we always have."
Zoey felt herself blushing, unable to respond.
The door opened again and a man in a top hat and cape came in.
Zoey raised her eyebrows, "You sure that's not her?"
Max chuckled, "Pretty sure." He glanced at his watch again, it was almost half an hour after when they were supposed to meet.
"I'm just going to send her a message, to see where she is," Max said.
Zoey nodded, using his distraction to shove her SPRQ Watch into her purse.
Max sent his message, before returning his attention to her.
"Zo, is everything okay with you?" He asked.
"What? Of course, it is, why would you ask?" She answered nervously.
"You've just been a little weirder than normal the past week. I just wanted to make sure that nothing was going on that you needed to talk about."
Zoey felt her breath catch, why did he have to be so painfully perfect? Reign it in Zo, he's asking as a concerned friend. He's literally here waiting to meet someone for a date….granted the someone is you, but he doesn't know that! And if he did, he would be disappointed.
Zoey cleared her throat, "No, nothing. I've been having some sleep issues lately, but other than that I'm good."
"Sleep issues? Like weird dreams?" Max asked, concerned.
"No, not weird per se...just different…"
"Anything I can do to help?"
"Umm, no, no. Mo recommended some tea to try, so I'm gonna do that and see if it helps," she replied.
"Okay. Well, you know I'm here for you if you need anything," he squeezed her hand reassuringly.
Zoey fiddled with her coffee cup to distract herself from the tingles his touch had sent through her body.
The cafe door opened once again and a family with small children came in smiling.
Max frowned and glanced at his watch.
"Did she respond?" Zoey asked quietly.
Max shook his head, "I don’t think she's coming…" he muttered sadly.
Zoey felt her heartache for him. Should she tell him the truth? No, better to let this play out. Red could slowly disappear, and they can put this whole thing behind them.
"What do you say we get out of here?" She said, standing.
Max looked up at her sadly, "And go where?"
"We could go get dinner? I don’t know about you, but I'm starving since Tobin ate all the doughnuts this morning!"
Max shook his head, "Does that mean you forgot to eat lunch again?"
Zoey gave him her best innocent look, "I had a cup of coffee, does that count?"
Max sighed as he looked at his best friend. "Zoey, what am I going to do with you?"
"Well, right now you're going to take me to get food," she looped her arm through his.
Max bumped against the table causing the soda bottle to wobble.
"Here, you want it?" He offered it to Zoey.
"I'll try it if you will," she said, opening the bottle and handing it to him.
Max took a sip and handed it back to her, his expression unreadable. Zoey took a drink and her whole face crumpled as she exclaimed "Blegh!" sticking her tongue out in disgust.
Max chuckled at her reaction. "It really is terrible, isn't it?"
Zoey nodded, "Well, that seals the deal. Any girl who stands you up and claims to love that drink must be insane." She placed the nearly full bottle into her purse to get rid of later.
Max smiled softly at her and pulled her into a hug. "Thanks, Zo," he whispered.
She sighed, enjoying the feel of his body against hers She could smell his aftershave, woodsy, masculine, and something uniquely Max.
"Now, come on, let's go get some food. We can take it back to your place and I can visit with Ollie," Zoey said, pulling him to the door.
Max nodded, "That sounds like just the kind of evening I could use. How's pizza sound?"
"Pizza sounds great. Ooo, make sure to get some garlic knots!"
Max chuckled, "What kind of monster would I be if I forgot the garlic knots!"
The couple walked towards the restaurant, oblivious to the pair watching them.
"Do you think she told him the truth?" Joan asked Mo.
Mo shook his head, "She's in deep denial that Max feels anything but friendship for her."
Joan sighed and rolled her eyes, "Were there ever any two more completely oblivious people?"
Tobin walked over to join them, "So, I take it the meeting didn't work?"
"No, it didn't. But, now Zoey knows that PianoMan is Max," Joan explained.
"But Max doesn't know who she is?"
Joan and Mo shook their heads. "He thinks he got stood up."
"Harsh. Well, it looks like things are up to Zo-dog for now. So, we'll lay low and keep an eye on them, see if they need any nudges in the right direction."
"So, how exactly did the two of you plan this?" Mo asked, gesturing between them.
"Oh, that was easy," Tobin replied. "The amount of chemistry between those two is ridiculous, but they're both so worried about "ruining" their friendship if they tell the other. So, we created a fake dating app just for the two of them." Mo raised his eyebrows at that information. Creating an app took time and resources.
"Joan and I created some random fake accounts so we could send them some messages that they would never be interested in. That way it seems real. Then Joan signed Zoey up for it and I annoyed Max until he agreed to sign up. The rest was all up to them." Tobin high-fived Joan as he finished his explanation
"I don't know if I'm more impressed or terrified by the two of you," Mo admitted.
Tobin looked at Joan and shrugged his shoulders, "Both?"
"You've got a good start, but you underestimate how stubborn Zoey can be. Come on, let's go back to my place and we'll brainstorm" Mo said, gesturing for the other two to follow him.
"I've got a few ideas up my sleeve myself," the unlikely trio headed into the night to plan their next move.
*Quote from Episode 1x12
#clarkeman#clarkeman fanfiction#max x zoey#zoey x max#max x zoey fanfiction#zoey x max fanfiction#max richman#zoey clarke#zoey's extraordinary playlist fanfiction#Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist#Zoeysplaylist fanfiction#zoeysplaylist#Zoeys playlist fanfiction#zoeys playlist#fanfiction#You've Got SPRQS#team Max#Team I'm yours#otp: I'm yours
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Chapter 25
(Banner made by the loveliest @harry-nofookingway-styles)
Harry X OFC (AU)
In which Melody is reacquainted with an old classmate named Harry, and must keep afloat in the violent, criminal life of an underground boxer.
Read previous parts here.
Author’s note: WE’RE SO CLOSE TO THE EEEEEND BBY. Don’t hate me. :) ALSO DO NOT FORGET TO LIKE, REBLOG, LEAVE FEEDBACK. XO
Melody’s phone screen was shattered. She had had just one too many moscatos and a little too much fun, and her eyes were hazy Friday night as she stepped out of the cab that she had taken home on.
The car pulled away from the sidewalk and Melody immediately unbuckled the straps of her heels. The chilly pavement soothed her aching feet. She clasped her shoes together in one hand and hurried into the warmth of her building, up the flight to her apartment, and through the door.
It was dark as she dropped the heels beside the entrance. Bea would probably be sleeping by that time anyway, but she wasn’t even home. She had been avoiding Melody ever since the incident with the police, furious that it hadn’t knocked any sense into her. Now, the only light came from the lamp in Melody’s studio, and it barely reached beyond the couch in the living room.
Melody padded into the apartment, yanking her arms from the confines of her jacket and slinging it over the arm of the sofa. She pulled her broken phone from a pocket and tried once again to coax it to life.
“Left your door unlocked again.”
Melody dropped her already mangled phone as she spun around, colliding with the side table behind her.
“Jesus, Harry,” she breathed out, pressing a hand to her chest to slow her heart.
“Weren’ answerin’ my calls,” he said. He was sitting in the chair at her desk, his body straight and rigid.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I ruined my phone.” She squatted down to pick the device back up, and when she returned her attention to Harry, she saw the shadow of a bruise blossoming over the side of his chin and a cut at the corner of his brow, caked over with dried blood. “Are you okay? Did you win?”
“Usually do.” Harry lowered his eyes to the desk, his jaw working. Melody didn’t like that. It was a tell of his agitation.
“What’s wrong?”
And just like that, it was like she’d set off a fuse. Harry snapped to his feet, tearing something from atop the desk and rounding on her.
“What the fuck is this, Mel?” he seethed. His proximity alarmed her. His chest was mere inches from hers, his eyes livid as he stared down at her, and in his hand was the notebook in which she’d written her unfinished story.
Melody floundered. She felt like she was underwater. She took a step back and found herself against the back of the sofa.
“Harry,” she began, but she didn’t know where to go, what to say. Her voice died in her throat. How could she explain this to him without making it seem as horrible as it really was? She didn’t think she could.
“What?” he snapped. He wanted an answer, and a good one. He wanted her to make him see things differently than he was viewing them himself.
“I messed up,” she whispered. “I know I did and I just—“
“What were yeh gonna do? Turn this in for a fuckin’ class? Try to get it published?”
“No, I couldn’t do that.”
“But yeh were gonna when yeh started, weren’ yeh?”
Melody closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She and Harry had never fought like this before. The most they had done was snap at each other, small arguments, but those usually cooled off almost immediately. There was no indication of cooling off this time. She could feel the anger rising in Harry like trapped steam.
She opened her eyes, trying to think of some way to calm him down. Sometimes when he was upset she could breathe a few words to relax his muscles, stroke her fingers over a clenched fist, and that’s all it would take. But this was not one of those times. His anger was directed at her.
“Remembered everythin’, didn’ yeh? Got a scene of fake me gettin’ my finger broken. Wha’s his name? Holden? Yeh’ve got words that my mum said to me, too—direct quotes, actually.”
Melody felt like she was exposed, and she could only imagine how Harry felt. Those were only her words, but they spelled out his life. Her mind raced with everything that she had written. She wished that the alcohol she’d consumed hadn’t worn off.
As if he could pick up on her thoughts, he went on. “Slipped in scenes of us too, right? Claire? Got our Christmas, got my birthday. Notice yeh left out the best parts, yeah?"
Harry whipped the notebook across the studio when he realized that she wasn’t going to give him the answers he needed. It slammed into the painting of an eye that was leaned up against the wall and then crashed to the floor in a flurry of pages.
“I am not some character for your goddamn book!” he shouted.
Melody flinched at the raise of his voice. She felt tears brewing. She didn’t like being yelled at, but she felt like she deserved it.
“I know, Harry,” she whispered. She shook her head, at her herself more than anything. “I know, I just—”
“Yeh know what?” Harry said. "I don’ wanna hear it.” Melody watched his fingers twitch at his sides. “I don’ care.” He took a wide step back, blinked at her, and then turned toward the door.
“Harry,” Melody breathed, pushing away from the couch. “Where are you going?” She couldn’t let this be the end of their conversation. She wouldn’t be able to sleep if they didn’t try to sort things out.
“‘M goin’ home.”
“Can we talk about this before—“
“No!” Harry yelled, spinning around to look at her. “Gave yeh a chance to explain and yeh couldn’. I told yeh things I’ve never told anyone, Melody. I let yeh in like yeh wanted me to and I trusted yeh and yeh made me into a fuckin’ case study or somethin’. So turn it in. Get the fuckin’ ‘A’ yeh want. Or get it published. Use my name, too. Use Colton’s. I don’ give a shit. Hope it’s worth it.”
Melody’s stomach churned at his words. Tears spilled over her lashes and she wiped them away hastily. “Worth what?” she grated out around the strain in her throat.
“This.” Harry gestured between them and then stuffed both of his hands into the pockets of the jacket that he hadn’t bothered taking off. “Whatever the fuck it was.”
She had felt it coming. She knew she had, but the sound of his voice saying the words made bile rise in her throat. Tears poured down her cheeks and she let out a thick sob. “Wait,” she started, stepping toward him, but Harry cut her off again.
“Don’t.” Harry took two steps toward the door and then watched the look of desperation that flitted over Melody’s face. He had never seen her look like that, never seen her so completely vulnerable and scared. He gritted his teeth together and quickly turned away, before his resolve vanished. “‘M done.”
This wasn’t how the night was meant to turn out. Harry had won his match. Melody had delivered her reading, clear and concise, even with her shaky knees. She’d held her own, even without him there to support her, even though she’d wished for him with every single word that she’d spoken. And then she’d celebrated with her classmates and looked forward to telling Harry all about it.
Melody watched blankly as he turned again and yanked the door open. It creaked slowly behind him, but didn’t close completely. She could hear his loud steps down the stairs, the whine of the building’s entrance, and the finality of it slamming shut. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Her feet carried her across the room of their own accord. She pressed the door shut, touched her forehead to its surface, and then slid down to her knees with a sob that felt like it could crack her ribs.
***
Melody was all cried out by Monday. Harry hadn’t tried to call her. She had gotten her phone replaced just for that purpose, but she was disappointed. Disappointed enough to miss all of her classes. She had called him once and it had gone straight to voicemail, so she didn’t try again.
By Tuesday, Bea had stopped home. She was only there to grab some more clothes. She was still upset with Melody and she hadn’t expected her to be home, but when she saw the state her roommate was in, she mustered up some sympathy.
“Take a shower and go talk to the guy, then,” Bea muttered from the doorway to Melody’s room. She couldn’t believe she was saying it, was telling her to go looking for Harry when she didn’t think Melody should be around him at all, but the alternative was messy. At the very least, Melody needed some closure.
Then Bea had turned on her heel, packed up her items, and hit the road again.
Melody’s hair was still damp when she left her apartment. She tucked it up into the hood of a sweatshirt and set off across town. There was no point in trying to find Harry at his place. She knew that every Tuesday—and especially this Tuesday—he trained with Sean at the warehouse. She wove the familiar path there and it was still light out when she reached the junction of Hark Street.
She made it inside to the arena before she hesitated. What was she really doing here? What was she going to say? What did she want?
She wanted Harry. That much she knew. She wanted everything they had and that’s what kept her feet moving when she found the ring empty, into the back hallway, to Harry’s door. And then she hesitated again. But this time she didn’t have the chance to sort through her thoughts. The door opened and someone almost collided with her.
“Oh.”
Sean stood before her, his hands poised on the doorframe where he had caught himself. He watched her face shift through a series of expressions, but he remained open-mouthed. And then he cleared his throat and skirted around her without a word.
The open door and empty entry revealed Harry. He stood at the table, his back turned toward her, rising and falling heavily, sweat rolling down his spine. Melody’s pulse spiked. He turned his head to the side when he heard her footstep as she moved forward. He began peeling off his gloves.
Melody let her eyes wander the room, linger on the couch where Harry had kissed her the last time she was there. She licked her lips, tentatively, and then settled her gaze on the space between his shoulder blades.
“Hi,” she muttered.
“What are yeh doin’ here?”
Melody took a deep breath. Wasn’t that what she’d just asked herself? “I wanted to talk to you.” She shoved her restless hands into the pocket of her hoodie.
“Feel like we’ve talked enough,” Harry said. He packed his gloves away in his bag and then rounded the table, shedding his tape into the waste basket on the other side. "Think we’re done talkin’.”
Melody nodded, trying to staunch her tears before they even began to flow. Harry wouldn’t look at her. He had his eyes trained with a focus on the table. “Harry,” she began, fingers lacing and unlacing inside her sweatshirt. "I’m really sorry. I know I fucked up. I—” Her voice broke off. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am.”
“If yeh were sorry yeh wouldn’ have written the shit in the first place, Melody. Yeh’re sorry that I found it."
She wanted to argue. She was sorry she had written it. But she was more sorry that he had read it, wasn’t she? Hadn’t she been planning to get rid of the thing days before he had, never let him find out about it at all? She cleared her thick throat, watching him avoid eye contact.
“The story didn’t start out so close to your life,” she said. "I just got carried away.”
“Why are yeh tellin’ me this?”
“Because you mean more to me than that, Harry. I don’t want anything that means I have to lose you, okay?"
Harry rested his palms flat on the table, dropping his head forward, hair spilling from the loose tie of his bun.
“I should never have written it. I trashed it. And I want to—"
“‘S not just the fuckin’ story, Melody!” Harry shouted. His hands smacked the table as he whipped his head upward again. He finally looked at her. He watched her jump the same way that she always did when he raised his voice. Her eyes were glazed over. “Yeh’re missin’ the entire goddamn point. I don’ give a single fuck what you want. I don’ trust you."
Melody felt her insides contract in a painful ache. It was almost worse than the “‘M done” that she had been replaying for the past few days. She had spent hours, days, months working toward the trust that she had earned. And she’d destroyed all of it in one go. Just like that. She could’ve been sick right then and there.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That’s all I can say. But I still—"
“Don’ worry. Made it this far without yeh,” Harry interrupted, zipping up his bag. He slung the strap over his shoulder and headed toward the door. Melody watched his face shift from fury to passivity. She flinched as he brushed past her, but he paused to whisper in her ear. "Don’ think I need yeh to keep goin’.”
Chapter 26
#harry styles#harry styles writing#harry styles angst#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fic#harry styles brutality
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Take Another Piece Of My Heart
A/N: I’ve been listening to "Let Me Live" from the Made in Heaven album on repeat and I got the idea of reader living with John as he’s going through Freddie’s death. Also I’m pretty new to this whole writing thing so I’m really sorry this is really bad :/
Warnings: aaangst, mentions of death (Freddie Mercury), inaccuracies, Deacy with a c (lol)
Here’s a goofy gif to ease the pain ;)
You woke up to the familiar smell of your boyfriend’s stench that had been present for the past week. John had barely moved from his bed since the morning you both received a call from Jim, saying Freddie had died the evening before. He’d been quiet ever since, occasionally throwing in a few ‘good morning’s, ‘goodnight’s or ‘I'm not hungry’s’ here and there. You tried your best to leave him be, but you hated seeing him like this.
“Good morning, sweet.” you said as you pecked a kiss at his cheek. He buried his face into his pillow at the feeling of your lips, making you frown. You ran your hand through his hair, ignoring the fact that he flinched at the touch as well. You announced that he should take a bath.
“Bri and Rog want you to be down at the studio today, only if you felt like recording.” He nodded, shuffling and stumbling to the bathroom.
You heard him close the door and lock it. You sighed - he never locks the bathroom door. After opening the windows in the bedroom and making the bed, you made your way to the kitchen to make some cheese on toast for him, hoping that would bring him joy somehow.
While you were pouring the hot water into two cups for tea, you heard him walk into the kitchen. You turned around to talk to him, but your words were quickly replaced by stifled giggles. John had wrapped a towel around his chest, instead of his waist. He somehow found a way to wrap another towel around his head, but what surprised you the most was that the towel didn’t fall. You gave him a light smile as you wrapped the towel in its rightful place and looked up at him. His eyes were avoiding yours.
“Guess I'm too used to taking care of you.” he muttered, so quietly that you almost didn’t catch it. You pressed your lips together as your fingers traced the outline of his jaw. He didn’t like the contact and leaned out of it. You missed the old Deacy, where all he had to do was smile to make you forget your struggles. He wouldn’t sleep until you fell asleep first or get out of bed before you were awake. He’d cuddle you through your nightmares and listen eagerly at every great dream you had.
He’d been so distant lately. It was like he left with Freddie.
“Listen, I get that you just wanna be alone for now but I am here for emotional support, being your girlfriend and all, but only if you want me to be.”
“I'm fine, Y/N, you don’t need to keep asking me,” he said, rather sternly, “and you’re helping me enough.” He sat down at the kitchen counter and took a bite of his cheesy toast.
“Deacy, I know you’re not. And I'm not helping one bit. You’ve been avoiding me, Brian and Rog this whole week. Speaking of, they really wanna finish this album. It might help you clear your mind, doing something you enjoy.”
“I can’t seem to enjoy anything when everything reminds me of him! Especially playing the bass and being with those two,” he raised his voice, making the both of you uncomfortable, “even you remind me of him.” he sighed.
Of course you did. It was Freddie that made him go to a club that night, the same club you happened to be in. He made him talk to you, get your phone number and persuaded him into calling you later that night.
“I'll tell the boys you’re not up for recording today.”
“Thank you...love.” There was a slight sign of uncomfort at the last word, which caused you to shudder.
You really felt useless to him.
The phone call was made. Brian and Roger both understood his reasoning, but they expected something from him sooner than later. You said you’re trying your best and they agreed. John had made himself comfortable on the sofa, his body sprawled across it, staring at the ceiling. You gave him some clothes you found upstairs in his closet and you helped him as he slowly wriggled into them, despite him frequently mumbling that he could do it by himself and that he didn’t need help. You took a seat at the piano next to the fireplace, prodding the keys and playing a familiar tune.
“Monday, start of my holiday. Freedom for just one week, feels good to get away.”
You heard a slight chuckle and you beamed. It worked! He joined you with the second verse.
“Tuesday, I saw her down on the beach. I stood and watched a while, and she looked and smiled at me.” he sang, turning to look at you. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes, glossed with a thin layer of tears.
“Wednesday, I didn't see her. I hoped that she'd be back tomorrow.
And then on Thursday, my luck had changed. She stood there all alone, I went and asked her name. I never thought that this could happen to me in only seven days. It would take a hundred or more for memories to fade.”
You decided to end the song there as John went back to staring at the ceiling in deep thought.
“Y’know, it wouldn’t kill you to listen to your own words.”
“Eh?”
””It would take a hundred or more for memories to fade”? Love, Freddie might be gone, but you can still continue his legacy.”
He broke into tears after that sentence. You abruptly left the piano to kneel next to his head and comfort him.
“Oh, God I'm sorry, I'm really sorry love-“
“N-no it’s not your fault it’s...it’s just the song I-“ he spoke through sobs. You’d never actually seen him cry before, not even after the phone call, and you could feel your heart shattering into a million pieces at the sight of him so broken, “I wanted to write this for you but I couldn’t find the right words. Freddie, he- he helped me so much.”
“And look at how successful this and all your other songs turned out to be. Look at how successful you all are.”
“But that was because of him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Deac,” you said as you sat him up so you could sit next to him. His head automatically fell into your shoulder and you felt the tiniest bit of relief, “you guys are all so good at doing what you do. That’s why millions of people love you and your songs. Hell, I don’t think the name Queen will ever die out.”
“I just- I'm too scared to write a song without having the usual feedback I get from Freddie.”
You cupped his cheek, tilting his head a little to kiss his forehead. You could tell that he was trying so hard to stop himself from flinching.
“Tell you what, since I’ve inspired you before, we’ll go to the studio today and I’ll stay. You can always get feedback from the boys. Or me. Though I’m not as talented.”
He looked up with red eyes and a small Deacy smile that didn’t last long. You wiped away his tears and was about to lean down to kiss his lips, but he seemed to predict that move as he leant his head on the other side of the sofa. Just as you thought things were working out well.
“I love you.” you said as you got up to call Brian and Roger, stroking John’s cheek before you left the room. He didn’t react to that at all.
-
You both walked in to the studio, Deacy carrying his bass with both hands. Brian saw you walk in, frowning at the lack of physical contact between the two of you. He could definitely tell that something was wrong. You hoped he’d ask you later - he gives useful advice sometimes. Roger was standing next to him and when he saw you, he looked more delighted than John recently looked waking up.
“Y/N! Finally!” he ran over to you, kissing your cheek and pulling you into a deep hug, “and Deacy! We’re so relieved you’re here. We really need your expertise.”
“Roger and I have been fighting on how to continue "Let Me Live". It’s the only song we have left of the album, but we’re not gonna release it just yet. Better let the press settle down a bit first.” He let out a sad chuckle when you went to hug him.
“Thought we decided to drop that.” John muttered.
“Ah, we revived it. Anyway, we only have that one verse that Freddie wrote.” Brian finished, scratching his chin with the end of a pencil. John and Roger made their way over and crowded around the various sheets of papers filled to the sides with music notes.
“Why don’t we go for the same melodic structure and just change the lyrics? That way we don’t risk messing up.” John said and the other two seemed to like it. Roger patted John on the back.
“See? This is the genius we were missing.” he said grinning. You laughed at Brian rolling his eyes. John gave a small smile to Roger, but his face quickly turned poker.
“Alright then, let’s just have you improvise and we can gather up some words.” Brian suggested.
“Um, yeah sure.” John never liked singing - he’d only ever do it if it was with you or the band.
“Don’t worry, sweet,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder, which he wasn’t slow to subtly shrug off. You saw in of the corner of your eye that Brian was looking your way, “just remember what I said. I'm your inspiration, baby.” you said playfully. Nothing. You walked into the control room where Brian and Roger was, ready to press the button and let John sing.
“Okay, "Let Me Live" additional verse, recording one...aaand go.” Brian said, pointing to John and pressing a button that started playing Freddie's vocals.
“Take your time, we’ll just loop the instrumentals and write down the lyrics until you stop.” Roger called out, holding a notebook and pen. John nodded, gluing his eyes on you as his brain visibly whirred.
As the recording of Freddie finished what was then a very short chorus, John started singing.
“Why don’t you take another piece of my…soul? Why don’t you...shape it, and...shake it...ah- um, until you’re really in control. Does that work?” he called out, breaking eye contact with you. Frantically writing, Roger nodded.
“’Good, it’s good. Let’s re-record that part with more confidence this time.” John nodded. As he re-sang the lines, Brian turned to look at you.
“Y/N?” you hummed in response, “Have you noticed that he’s been staring at you the whole time he sang those lines?”
“I told him he could look at me for inspiration. Like how he wrote “In Only Seven Days”?”
“Yes, but that was a love song. This...I'm not too sure what this is, to be honest.”
You paused to hear that John had gone on to complete the chorus and was now working on the bridge with Roger.
“I’ve noticed you two aren’t handsy. Very unnatural - well, for you.” he grinned at you when you playfully shoved his shoulder.
“Thanks for worrying. I guess we all just have different ways of getting through something like this.”
“I guess so. But for the sake of your happiness, I'm gonna call a break so you can talk it out.”
“You’re too kind. Make sure you listen through the tapes.”
“I got it,” he said with a wink, “Alright, great work Deacy. You deserve a break.”
You suddenly felt a wave of fear fall over your body and walked outside to get some fresh air, John following you.
“You alright?” he asked you.
“Those were some pretty harsh lyrics, Deac.” you whispered.
“It’s a pretty harsh song.”
“But you were staring at me while singing it. It’s like you were telling me those exact words.” You bit your lip, he didn’t seem to look guilty.
“I just sang what came into mind when I look at you.” he shrugged.
“You think I'm controlling?” you crossed your arms, trying to mask the growing pain in your chest. Tears started to well up in your eyes.
“No- well...no, that’s not what I meant. It’s just-“ he obviously had something he was hiding.
“What’s wrong, John?” you tried to sound soothing, but it ended up sounding desperate. He was startled at your use of his real name, but his forehead quickly furrowed.
“Look, I’m fine! Could you please stop pestering me!” he shouted at you and you stood in shock, not knowing what to say.
“God, Y/N, this past week I’ve had to deal with your voice constantly repeating the same sentence.” his fists were clenched. You were speechless - in the almost 20 years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him get visibly mad at anything.
“I- I’m just trying to help-”
“Well, it’s clearly not working! I thought you’d stop after realising it wasn’t.”
“I did, I swear I tried to let you heal by yourself but...Deacy I just love you too much!”
“Yet I don’t feel the same way!” his voice lowered, realising what he said, “not anymore at least.”
You didn’t want to believe it at first. You searched hopelessly in his eyes, trying to find a sign of a joke somewhere, but you couldn’t. Your eyes fell to your shoes as you knew the truth.
“I just- I don’t feel like I can continue this. Us, I mean. Well...Queen and us.”
You felt your heart sink to your feet as the colour drained from your face. He took a deep breath before continuing.
“I’m retiring. I want to finish the album with the boys and then leave. Spend more time with myself. It’s just- it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Not without Freddie.” His voice broke and he rubbed his eyes, “I tried giving it a shot, I can’t, Y/N, nothing feels right.”
“Deacy I-”
“Stop calling me that!”
Your knees were about to give way and your bottom lip started trembling.
“John. things could still work out. You just have tell me what I need to do.”
“I need you to go.” he said sharply. Those words felt like spears going directly through your stomach.
“But John-” you pleaded.
“No, stop. Just- let me live. Leave me alone.” He walked into the studio, leaving you out in the cold.
You hesitated for a few seconds, trying to get some feeling into your legs again and wiping the few drops of tears that had fallen, before walking into the studio. You kept your head down, ignoring Brian’s questions and Roger’s snarky comments on taking a long break. You grabbed your coat and turned to look at the crew for one last time.
“Good luck, you guys. Freddie’s proud of you all.”
You flashed a quick smile to both Brian and Roger as you turned and walked out, hot tears rolling down your face. You could hear John’s voice as they started practicing again.
“Why don't you take another little piece of my life? Why don't you twist it, and turn it, and cut it like a knife? All you do is live, all I do is die…”
You picked up the pace and ended up running down the road, trying to run as far away from his voice as possible, while you sobbed out your heart’s content.
-
Part 2
Let me know what you thought! Criticism is openly welcomed :)
Tags: @notthebackchat @deakyjohns @fatbottomedgorl @fredthelegend
#bohemian rhapsody#queen#john deacon#joe mazzello#joe mazzello as john deacon#john deacon angst#john deacon fanfic#john deacon x reader#queen fanfic#queen angst#first fanfic#bad writing#ftlchallenge#take another piece of my heart#let me live
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current mind-space//word vomit
it’s amazing how much can change in a few days, but it hasn’t been a week since my finals ended and i already felt so different. i have been doing f45 everyday this week (if not then some kind of workout, but i’ve really been into that recently). i am feeling so much better now without deadlines, sometimes i don’t know if i function better under pressure or not. i guess not, but then it’s amazing how much i can do and achieve under pressure. i need the right amount of pressure, and this semester it has been a little difficult for me to get around that.
last friday was kinda my last day of finals, i just had an essay to submit, and i am disappointed in myself and my work ethic because i submitted it at 9pm, went to my cousin’s (disappointing) party, and then professor emailed me to say that she cannot read Pages format (seriously smh @ my tardiness!!!), only got back at 1am that night and sent my mediocre essay. i am a little sad about it because i know that is not my 100%. idk why but college so far has just been a series of 80% effort. this paper was an interesting one, on airbnb, on the sharing economy, it’s a performance studies paper where i analyze the hospitality platform in terms of host-user relationship, parasitism and (attempted) to talk about free online labor. it is a little too late now but i kinda want to work on it again and like, submit for feedback. maybe ill ask taylor.
last saturday was kinda meh, i agreed to go to a *social* kinda event at a bar/club at chelsea, held for Asian-ivy-alumni-people that yanlin invited me too. it was at up&up and honestly a little...i didn’t enjoy it at all. the music sucked, the people were either too dorky or gross or old or weird, and the whole time i just kept saying to myself, “never again”. they said it was open bar but they only served absolut, which was shit. and then my friend’s two friends were...i feel sorry that this was their first clubbing experience. at the beginning my reaction was look at all these ivy alumni! get hitched with one of them for ~da connectsx~ (and nothing else) but no kidding i was actually interested in talking to them just to get to know what people who graduated from ivies are up to, and what are they doing at such events...and are they actually enjoying themselves because it was really kinda gross. met my friend’s friend who seemed like a really smart engineer (he asked for my number the next day lol), and a german dude at the bar who didn’t want to get me a drink. all i needed that night was a drink.....(i’m glad i didn’t drink tho because recently drinking has made me feel all kinds of bad)
we had ramen after at ramen-ya (most probably the worst ramen and charsiew i’ve had but what can we do at 3am and my friend wanted noodle and soup...)
on sunday i KNow i should have left my house earlier to workout but i didn’t. i was angry at myself that i didn’t. instead, i stayed at home and emotion-ate. i must have eaten more green bean soup than my stomach would have liked. what else...avocado? i remember..two bananas? god. this was the day i felt like i was n’s boyfriend because i had to do what she wanted to do. i know i had agreed on going, but at that point i really wanted to go thrifting or something. i mean when i got to central park it was fine and things were good but the whole day just felt like i was kinda pulled into doing something that wasn’t my first choice of plans, not that i didn’t enjoy myself lying under the sun at the park. it just felt like i was accompanying someone. i was half an hour late to meet her as well, and half heartedly got a burrito-wrap at newsbar. if you think about it it is really kinda funny, we’re just buying food and taking the subway to this grass patch 50 blocks away. we didn’t walk much, we literally only stayed at a little grassy slope overlooking the baseball pitch. anyway we went to a dance class after (the class was an hour long but i felt like n had asked me about when and what time we should book the classes for more than an hour by text so i just got really sick of it)
i rushed home and got dinner with my uncle who’s in town for my cousin’s graduation. i was surprised that he chose the same japanese restaurant again, after dissing it half a year ago we ate here. the omakase was crazy and it cost 230 per person. (for the most expensive set) it was also kinda dumb because you aren’t allowed to order a different omakase set from anyone else - everyone on the table has to order the same - because of “timing”. i wonder if this is how it is in japanese omakase etiquette, but in any case it really earned them a hefty amount because my uncle decided to get 230 for all of us. qiyang didn’t like and said qiqi had bad taste, hahaha. the food wasn’t bad, i mean it’s japanese fusion, but the prices were way too steep for the taste. anyway enough about the food, during the dinner i think we talked about many things though. i kinda wanted to talk to my uncle individually because i think he is the only one who knows about ah gong, but he was sick, and i could tell he was exhausted. my aunt got a little impatient because i didn’t arrange plans to take their furniture and they were going to throw all of them away and it was actually the first time i’ve seen her get so worked up - but at the same time trying to control her emotions - because she was talking to me. i could tell she was annoyed though but i tried not to take it personally, and arranged it tomorrow.
arranging the moving stuff was kinda last minute, i was walking to the library for work one day and i saw a truck that said MakeSpace. i assumed it was a kind of moving company and so i looked them up. they seemed to be pretty okay in terms of their services and so i decided to try them out. confirmation and setting up an appointment went pretty smoothly, except for the part where the guy i think his name was joseph, asked me to give my credit card details over the phone. idk why i did that! i stopped though, and asked him why, to which he replied he wanted to key in with the coupon code. this service has so much gimmicks within the first 2-3 minutes on the phone he was already telling me about how the first pick up is free, and that he will deduct 100$ off the first month...when people give you discounts too easily it just feels like a ploy and a thing they give to everyone, it’s not anything special and it’s probably calculated inside whatever we have to pay. anyway, i was just thinking it would be cheaper (assuming the maximum that i would have to pay is ~$500, as i confirmed with them on the phone yesterday), it’d still be cheaper than starting an apartment lease now and going through the trouble of finding two subletters.
well. idk, it’s also easy to have things all moved in, i have to find a place to store my perishables!
moving is so much work, and storing things. this reminds me of my paper on airbnb and about the digital nomad lifestyle. it is interesting though, that this is what it has become. but the homogenized aesthetic is something i really cannot stand, in airbnb, in coffeeshops around the world..i am sure you know what i’m talking about. a new york times writer did something about this - he termed it “Airspace” - and apparently it originated from Brooklyn. I guess that’s where the art/avant-garde stuff started. well. keep a look out im gonna write a blogpost about that
moving on
nat came to sleepover on sunday night and a few days after because the school kicks you out of the dorms you pay so much for right after your final ends. i forgot if we did something fun but i probably just fell asleep.
on monday i think i went to f45 and did cardio at Dumbo with Gi. he seems like a pretty nice trainer, the first time i went it was him and another girl Bertha (i think my first f45 was last tuesday) and i felt like i had two personal trainers with me - Gi was cheering me on and Bertha was doing it with me. it felt like such a good workout, one of the best ive had in a while. then work, where i arranged the movers stuff. i also realized i bought the wrong date for my flight ticket as my friends and had to buy one more...............
tuesday was the same f45 in the morning, and the bobst after. didn’t really get much work done at bobst. oh i also viewed a 3BR flex at 160. hella expensive and small, and dates didn’t work out anyway. also the broker who brought us to view the apartment was a very nice tall french man and his name was jean-francois which i couldn’t pronounce and asked nat but still called him jean as in jeen instead of john. this is why i have to learn french. you’re embarrassing. i also went to the itp/ima spring show with shubham which was super cool. there were many cool ideas, and i just wonder if i could create something like that. i didn’t get to see all of the exhibits which i regret, but i remember a few notable projects. one was an installation made with keyboards that randomly clicks, but when you hold your phone up it’ll stop. it’s made using 3d gestures. there’s also one at a gallery for surveillance, this team had a thing they call facebox, and it’s literally a box, that when you open it has a webcam that would capture your face, find you on facebook, and print out an invoice/receipt on how much you have earned for this giant tech company. what else...an AR project that when you scan a food, it shows you where the food comes from. nat said that she would love it if menus have something they could scan and then have pictures appear in ~holographic~ format, or maybe in the nearer future something on your phone that shows you a picture of the picture of the food. but isn’t it a surprise tho? sometimes the fun’s in the surprise, you read the description, you know what are the foods you’ll eat, leaving room to imagine or be surprised by how the chef puts it together!
anyway, went for dinner with nat and jenny - got vegan shwarma (definitely wasn’t worth $14) and went to get crepes with will after.
wednesday we were gonna go to the dmv but we weren’t prepared. nat also needed to get her passport and she was lazy. wow the number of times i mentioned her, it feels like she’s my boyfriend at this point. talked to famz, sister, and beatrix. am currently considering if i should even go to beijing or just go straight home. fuck. went to bobst for work but no one was there i was just really sleepy. viewed an apartment at 55 morton (it’s a nice quiet residential street that seems to be tucked away from the loud cars and bars and people)
then i went to f45 again-varsity!!! cardio!!!, walked across brooklyn bridge (a little regret although i wanted to walk, but my bag was heavy and there were too many tourists to brisk walk)
also the reason for this is that after my soba/miso/salad/shrimp dinner last night i was just watching a bunch of netflix shows and it was probably the caffeine from puerto rican roasting company - the barista made me a chai cappuccino with almond milk (3 SHOTS!!!)
me and nat couldn’t sleep, i really think i slept for an hour. i watched so many different shows, yoko and john’s documentary, while we were young, anthony bourdain, i was seriously flipping through all the shows and alternating between amazonprme and youtube and netflix and i even tried watching peaceful cuisine and making the brightness lower and had the sleep mode on and wow i just couldn’t sleep
so yeah the birth of this word vomit
i am going to create more things
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Languages of Saints - C.R (3/10).
Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen).
Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
Masterlist
A/N: welcome to the longest chapter so far, even with some changes i do plan on moving forward with the story.
Part 1 | Part 2
Feedback is always appreciated.
Monday.
It’s a surprise to your supervisor, Harold, early Monday morning when you sent him a quick text that you will not be coming to work that day due to being sick. It’s not that you don’t have the compt time for it, you have way too much actually, but it still makes him question your actions a little, not that he would say that outloud, especially with Marcy nearby. God knew that woman was ready to flick a sexual harassment filing to HR at a moment’s notice, it was just the age he lived in he guessed. However, that and the usual coffee break gossip leave his head when a man in a blue tailored suite walks into the floor that houses all the accountants and analysts’ offices. He wears confidence in an annoying sort of way, as he calls on everyone to meet him up front with a pair of lawyers behind him.
“My name is Carter Baizen,” the younger man declares grinning at the sound of his own name,”As of last Friday, Wyman Co. is under my direct management.”
The small crowd murmurs amongst themselves, as Carter’s smirk turns devilish. This was his favorite part of the act, reminding others that their livelihoods where in his hands. He might be considered a Saint to some, but to others he was the goddamn devil. It might have not been the best thing, the morally right thing to do but Carter Baizen was here to remind everyone (and himself at times) that he was worth something -- even at the cost of others. However, through all the dramatics, there was something that he needed to know more than anything else -- where his goddamn money was.
“However, it seems that there is some money missing from the annual report and statistics I was given” Carter keeps going on with his act, as he shakes the packet of papers the black-suited man gives him, “I hear you are the best group of accountants and analysts this side of Wall Street.”
Everyone stays silent as he gives the punchline of his speech, “You have until Friday to find me the missing 2 million dollars, if not this whole department is fired.”
Carter gives the appalled crowd a shiteating grin before leaving, but instead of freaking out like most other groups would - the financial team of what was formerly Wyman Co. huddle up and look at Harold. He drags a hand through his thinning hair before looking at the chubby-cheeked, brown-eyed Marcy.
“Send her a detailed email of everything that just happened,” Marcy nods before running to her cubicle, “I want you guys searching, for any inconsistencies and you send it to either her or Nick -- they’re gonna be our A-team on this. Understood?”
“Understood!”
If only you, fighting with Monsieur over the blanket, knew what you were in for.
Tuesday.
Rocio’s mother sends you an urgent email on Monday evening asking where her daughter has been since Friday and in all honesty you can’t answer because she hasn’t answered your messages and her Instagram has been oddly cryptic --with dark and blurry shots-- since you left the party. It’s around that time you see the email from Marcy, with her panicked voice ringing in your head-- about what had happened at work, and it doesn’t really surprise you -- the company had been tanking for awhile now, but the thing about Mr. Baizen -- that’s what gets you up with a headache and your best set of footwear.
“How are you even awake?” Nick asks, as you wait for the elevator to reach your level. The dark-haired man shakes his head, as you motion towards the cup of coffee in your hand.
“It’s just like college, pills and coffee,” you state, voice still raspy from your sickness and the lack of sleep the email had given you. Honestly, it felt like that time Rocio made you go to a frat party the night before your last statistics finale. You shrug, as Nick gives you those eyebrows of disapproval though you knew he understood from his own sleepless night as a new dad.
“Let’s do this, Nicholas,” you chug your coffee, knowing that the burnt kind is already being made in the break room.
“Right behind you,” he remarks, as you frown for only a moment.
“Please stop,” you laugh, ignoring the tightness in the back of your neck that you always get when someone is watching you, “I don’t want Matt after me again.”
Nick laughs, as the two of you head to your offices and begin going into the pile of documents that the rest of the floor has assailed your dropbox with, completely unaware of a certain man watching the proceedings, though you are aware the office watching you through the glass walls, making it obvious that their hopes are leaning all on you.
Wednesday Night.
It’s in the minor details, that’s something you learned early on in this job. You have to be meticulous, if not money could slip out of your hands, and that’s something that rich people hated the most -- losing money that they didn’t spent themselves. But, between hour 5 and hour 12 you get somewhere with a little thing Nick says that makes Marcy laugh during breaktime. It’s the little things that accumulate -- that stupid saying doesn’t leave your head, so you start looking into the little things, a monthly payment here or a downpayment there. It’s all in the same area, though never under the same name.
“The last CEO bought out his lover with gifts,” you explain to Nick and Harold in the mid afternoon meeting the three of you are having, though that isn’t the half of it. You wouldn’t let them know, if it could possibly spill out and cause a bigger mess -- people still lost their jobs, with this the old boss just looked bad.
“Every dollar accounted for?” Harold ask, as you nod. Nick is going over the numbers once more, because he secretly knows that you’re not that good at math, never been one for a calculated risk.
“So, you agree to present this to Mr. Baizen tomorrow?” Harold asks, bright eyes and grabby hands. You roll back your shoulders and give him a tight smile.
Calculated risks have never been your go to, but look at you now.
Thursday Night.
Harold sends the report bright and early the next morning, so that Mr. Baizen’s attorneys and whoever else had time to look over it. You just tried to stay alive for the rest of the day. You know what ignoring your illness wasn’t the best thing for you, but your work and livelihood were on the line -- one that you loved dearly. The healthcare benefits could pay if you got sick and maybe if you died, and while that was a little morbid, it was how you felt by the end of day. You hoped you died before you meet said Carter Baizen. However, Lady Luck was not on your side when 4pm rolled around and you were standing in front of his office door at the top of the highrise that housed the company.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Baizen,” you say, holding some folders and in your best business outfit, trying not to lose your voice. The man turns to you and for a moment you’re in shock -- the guy from the party. You want to say something, but you are going to be a professional. You are going to fight for your job, though you can’t help but frown at the crooked grin he gives you while stating your last name.
“So let’s talk,” Carter declares, as he takes a seat and you follow him. On top of his desk are several folders, the whole meeting of the company’s missing money takes nearly 40-45 minutes and you’re surprised he’s paying attention and taking notes, like he cares about the company. However, what catches his attention, ignoring the whole mistress of the former CEO is the markings on your paper from the last few months that aren’t in his report. You’re about to go into that when he finally speaks up.
“I think you should stop talking,” Carter states coldly, as you look at him from across the wooden table. You look at him and back at the paper, hating that you put two and two together so quickly. Carter Baizen had owned Wyman a lot longer than just last week, it was just that the old CEO couldn’t handle what the dark-haired man in front was doing anymore, so he finally bought the old fool out.
It was one of the oldest tricks in the game.
“You swindle funds into other things, don’t you? Scarier things ,” he doesn’t say anything about your accusation, but the dark look in his blues eyes is telling you to shut up, not that you were ever any good at that either, “And you use your accountant as scapegoats, is that why you fire the whole department when you come in? Every time?”
“Usually,” he remarks while smiling like the cat caught the canary., as you tighten your hands into fists at his carelessness for others, “I could still do it, but you already know.”
“Please don’t fire the department,” you plea angrily, as you slam your hands onto his desk though it doesn’t seems to phase, “You saw how good they are this week. Anything, I’ll even be your fucking scapegoat. But, there are good people out there.”
“ Anything ?” he cocks an eyebrow, as you scowl. Rich people were truly disgusting.
“I mean, not anything . I’m not looking for 50 shades of Gray here, Mr. Baizen,” you try to save yourself by being polite in the end, but his shaking head just shows that he caught the underlying disgust in your voice. However, he chooses to ignore it.
“Well, you’re not Dakota Johnson,” he states and for a moment you want to laugh at his weak rebuttal.
“I don’t think brunettes are your type, if I recall correctly,“ you answer back as he glares at you, but all you do is shrug -- I mean who doesn’t read a tell-all when it had a the juiciest gossip about NYC, at least that’s how you remember it being promoted. Rocio is the one that really told you everything, she was a talkative drunk, after all.
“Well then, I’ll keep up my end of this bargain,” Carter concedes, almost too quickly, “And you keep yours.”
“Understood, Mr. Baizen,” is all you say before trying around and that’s when everything starts to get dizzy once more, as your fever sneaks up to you with the fear you have been ignoring as well. Carter Baizen could be one scary person if he wanted to be , are your last thoughts as you let out half a curse before blacking out completely. You never hear the rushing footsteps coming towards you.
Friday Morning.
You wake up in your apartment mid afternoon with Monsieur meowing at your side. You feel awful with your throat clogged up and your eyes barely able to open. It was like you crashed into a monster truck only to get thrown into a brick wall. However, by muscle memory, the first thing you do is check your phone -- a little scared of wondering how you exactly you got here since the last thing you remember is talking to one Carter Baizen, who might be the one that had messaged you a couple of hours ago.
To show you that I am a nice guy, take all of next week off. You look awful, Stats. But, the following Monday starts your new workload -- CB.
“Oh, Mon. What did I get myself into?” you groan before throwing your phone into the abyss that was your room as Monsieur keeps meowing for your attention.
Part 4
#baezens4k#carter baizen#carter baizen x reader#carter x reader#carter baizen fanfic#carter baizen fanfiction#gossip girl#gossip girl fanfic#gossip girl fanfiction#series: of saints#fabiola trying to write
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Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 10
Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Last Chapter
Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3
Notes (I guess): It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for! Well... I hope so...
Yeah, it took me a month to get this chapter on the road, but... I can’t really be blamed. Well, I can, but let’s be fair, I’m in India right now, I have almost no wifi and I’m mostly relying on data (I ran out of data while writing this and now have to wait forty minutes to get data again... oops...), I managed to get The Schmuel Song from The Last Five Years stuck in my head out of boredom, and really I planned to update much earlier but sometimes... chapters get stuck.
I’m sorry I’m updating this late... I hope the fact that this is the longest chapter yet A N D that something y’all have been waiting for is going to happen will make it up!
As always, all the thanks to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for the original idea, to @whatwashernameagain for her original story and for being such a sweetheart, and to @winglessnymph, @asleepybisexual and @anony-phangirl for all their help, even if it’s just listening to my ideas and giving feedback (you’re all wonderful and I love you so much!)
Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @secretlyanxiouspersona, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @why-things-go-boom, @ilovemyspoopydad, @violetblossem, @maybe-i-like-the-misery
(Wanna be tagged? Just lemme know!)
Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter is a bit lighter, but keep this in mind.
—————
Saturday, December 21st, 2002
Christmas at the Harris shoebox was never that festive to begin with.
There was always some sort of rush hour-type boost in sales on and off-Broadway, or at least that's how David explained it to Remy when he was younger, so he would only really be home if he only had matinees or if, God forbid, Christmas (either eve or day) fell on a Monday. And Remy was always busy with school, at first with his program in Columbia and then his project at Bronx Science and now…
Well, now was no different. Christmas Eve was going to be on a Tuesday, next Tuesday to be exact, and Remy was too busy reading ahead in his psychology books.
India dropped him off in Manhattan on her way to Johns Hopkins. They got out a day early to go from Boston to Manhattan - Remy didn't have exams that day anyway - and stayed over at Remy's overnight before the second half of the ride. "They", of course, also included India's girlfriend Jenna, who was the one driving. She was a wonderful human being and Remy honestly couldn't believe he never met her before. It felt like they knew each other for ages! (David wasn't happy when two twenty-something year olds crashed on his couch that Sunday night, without warning, but Remy told him they're leaving first thing in the morning. He still wasn't very happy at that, but maybe going with it was the best option here.)
"You know who I ran into on my lunch break today?" Remy raised his head and took off his reading glasses (he was starting to need glasses for more than reading…) to look at his father, who - at eleven forty-five at night - finally got home from tonight's show. "Come on, ask."
"Who did you run into on your lunch break, dad?"
"Do you remember Michelle Tan?"
Of course Remy remembered Michelle Tan. She took chemistry and engineering and always looked down on him as if learning psychology made him less than her. Not to mention that when he showed up to graduation with short hair - his first step towards socially transitioning, really - she kept saying the nastiest things to him about how inappropriate it was.
"What about her?"
"Nothing, she just asked how you're doing." David threw himself on the couch next to Remy, taking off his shoes and opening his shirt in the process. "I said that you're doing alright and that your degree was going okay."
"Oh. Okay."
"...that's all you're going to say? Oh okay?" Remy pulled his shoulders. What else was there to say, really? "Thought you'd be a bit happier that—"
"Dad, Michelle Tan is the one who came to me after graduation and told me that short hair is undignified and that just because I think it makes me more of a boy doesn't mean that I am. Do you really think I'd be that excited about you running into her on your lunch?"
"I didn't know. I had no idea."
"It's okay."
David was working on a new show by Tony Kushner. He promised Remy that he's not going to spoil anything to anyone this time (though let's be honest, he said that about Dancing At Lughnasa in 1991, and Rent in 1996, and…). He stayed out late for the workshop, and barely had any time to care for himself. He never did whenever a new show started.
Remy could forgive him for forgetting stuff.
However, this neglect was absolutely and utterly unacceptable.
"Can you take a day off tomorrow? I mean, it's just the workshop, I doubt Eliza would mind it if you didn't come." David hummed in agreement. "So it's decided. Tell Eliza you're not coming tomorrow. We're gonna, like… do absolutely nothing tomorrow. We'll go somewhere fancy, like that diner on—"
"Since when are pancakes fancy to you, Remy?"
"Since I don't get to eat them anymore because I don't have time and I'm not using boxed mixes, thank you very much!"
"We can go to Hard Rock Cafe."
"Dad, Hard Rock isn't fancy. Sorry to disappoint. I just want to go to Times Square, to be honest…"
And then he turned on the TV and put a recorded episode of South Park. And Remy gave up. He went back to his book, to remember the teacher who made them read Oedipus Rex in English class, to get pissed at Freud who said that all men secretly want to fuck their mothers and called it the Oedipus complex without even knowing (probably) that Oedipus didn't want to fuck his mother but the moment he found that out he stabbed his own eyes out and exiled himself, accompanied by his children, which prompted the start of Oedipus at Colonus and Antigone.
Remy always felt bad for Antigone. But that was a personal issue.
——
"Remy? Remy! Hey, Remy, I'm here, and you're here, and—"
These sort of calls have been going on since about five minutes after David paid for their lunch and he and Remy started making their way to the subway back home. They started right around the… Martin Beck theatre? Yeah, around there. Remy was kind of scared to turn around and look who that is, until his dad told him to, so he did.
Emile was dragging his older sister and her dog behind him and he was getting really close.
"I didn't know you'll be here right now!" Emile's face was flushed, hidden under the hood of his fluffy mustard yellow coat. His glasses were covered in raindrops and all fogged up.
He looked absolutely adorable.
"Sweetie, what are you doing here?" At the hurt face, Remy quickly added "I'm just curious, that's all. Did you bring Mycroft too?"
"Well… no, I didn't. Mycroft stayed home. I can't bring him on holiday vacations. Our neighbors are looking after him, though! They're very nice and they're technically his grandparents! Well, kinda. I got him from a litter their bunnies had. It's a long story. And we were at the Man of La Mancha matinee just now! Julie and I have tickets to The Lion King at seven, and my parents are going to The Full Monty. It's a holiday tradition!"
Well then… hmm…
"Oh, you haven't met my dad yet!" Emile almost started jumping. "You have to—"
Someone tapped on Remy's shoulder. "I thought we're going home, not talking to cute boys on the street?" David asked jokingly.
"Hello, sir! I'm—"
"That's Emile, Dad. He's a friend. I told you about him. And his sister Juliana."
"But she's buying books so we're going to wait for her!" The tiny blond said oh so excitedly. He could never not get excited, it seemed. Remy loved that about him.
"What did you say her name was?" At David's raised eyebrow, Emile started jumping even more.
"Juliana! Yoo-li-a-na. It's Dutch, not English. She's named after our great-grandmother who died in Auschwitz. It's a really sad story, if I do say so myself—"
"Munchkin, we gotta go." The aforementioned woman who just got out of the bookstore grabbed Emile's hand and gave it a short squeeze. Her accent was even harsher than Emile's, but… Remy couldn't complain. He heard her speak before. He met her before. "Remmington, nice to see you again."
"You too, Julie. And Ladybug." At the sound of her name, the dog started wagging her tail quite happily. Remy never got to see her off-duty, but he assumed that this was the closest he'll ever get to.
"Mom and Dad are waiting. You coming or what?"
As the three went away, Emile waving goodbye quite enthusiastically and lending his sister a shoulder to lean on (Remy only recently found out why he did), Remy struggled to find the words to explain to his dad what just happened.
Thankfully, he didn't ask. Instead, David said "so that's your boyfriend, huh?", took his hand and pulled him in the direction of the subway. They still had to get home today.
——
Monday, December 23rd
"So we're staying here until… I think the fifth," Emile rambled on the phone. Sure, it was eleven thirty already, but… free minutes were more important than proper sleep schedules. Not that either of them had any of those. "After that were going to Missouri, my dad is taking me to Glore, you know—"
"I have no idea what Glore is.”
"It's a psychiatric museum. And after that we're going to California! To Disneyland, and then the murder museum."
Emile kept rambling about his plans, and he was so loud, Remy could hear his dad tell him to quiet down a couple of times. He was just so excited, and it was always so endearing…
"So what I'm trying to say is," Emile rambled away. "Would you like to hang out sometime? We could go see a musical! Like, umm… Rent! We can go see Rent! I haven't seen the new cast yet… I heard that Jai Rodriguez is awesome though!"
"I don't know… I can't really afford that—"
"Nonsense! What do you have me for if not for this sort of thing?"
"Remy, either you hang up now and go to sleep so you can deal with your grandparents tomorrow," David grunted from the couch, where he tried to sleep, "or I do it for you."
"Alright, boo, how about the twenty-seventh?"
"Sounds good to me!"
"Okay. Good night, Em."
"Good night!"
Remy didn't tell Emile that he actually saw Rent off-Broadway before. And… didn't exactly like it. Maureen, the only bisexual, was presented as promiscuous and very selfish (though that might've just been her personality, he had no idea, Jonathan Larson died before he could ask him) and Angel, the only character he ever truly identified with - a gay, genderqueer drummer who is HIV+ - is really the only main character to die, leaving the most wonderful and wholesome relationship in the show broken and sad and with a bad ending, while the horribly dysfunctional Roger and Mimi - both also HIV+ - got to have a happy ending.
And really, what type of bullshit was that? Gays have already been so villainized in the media, Remy did not need another one.
But he'd go. Just to be with his best friend. He really wanted to.
"Are you ready for the ride to Jersey?" David asked jokingly. Neither of them was ever truly ready for the six-hour (at best) long ride on the interstate to Red Bank. David's parents were, to say the least, terribly nosy and had no tact. Adding to that the fact that his cousin Gilbert (his aunt and her husband had a terrible taste in names, Remy decided rather early in life) wasn't going to come home for Christmas from his boarding school in Nova Scotia, also known as the only sensible member of the family with whom Remy could actually hold a conversation would not be home for Christmas…
This holiday was going to be a disaster.
"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
——
Tuesday, December 31st, 2002; 9:54 p.m.
Christmas was horrible. But Emile made it better.
This was how Remy described the holiday on his call to India on the thirty-first.
"What I mean is… you know the feeling when your family is just so bigoted and— yeah, okay, I'm sure you know that feeling." India laughed on the other side of the phone. It made him feel… strangely better. "So, like… my family are horrible, okay. My grandparents are, like, the worst. My grandma can't stop sticking her nose in everyone's business, and like, usually it's fine, it's not that bad, but last week my cousin wasn't home so she had more criticism to give to everyone else so she chose to pick on my sexuality, and like—"
"Pick on your sexuality?"
"She literally said ‘why can't you just be who you were when you were sixteen, you may not carry the family name but you will continue the bloodline'—"
"What twisted mind would say something like that?"
"My grandma, sweetie. This is my grandma."
India actually laughed at that. Remy could hear confused sounds from the other side, which he assumed belonged to that Jackson kid she talked about a couple weeks ago.
"Is she also the type of person who would say that Jenna is a nursing student because she's black and a woman?"
"I wouldn't put it past her to act like Professor McKenna. But anyway. So that's my grandma, and my grandpa is… he's deaf and senile. You can imagine what that's like."
India hummed. "Sounds like a fun holiday."
"Well, after coming back Emile and I went to see Rent. I still hate that musical but it was fun to watch it with him. And my boyfriend only called once like, three days ago. And I mean, rude much?"
"I'll bet. I got to talk to my psychiatrist, and… guess what."
"I'm scared of guessing."
"I'm gonna get my first doses of blockers and estrogen real soon, if everything goes right." Remy tried to avoid the tightness in his chest. "I know, I know… you've been waiting for this too."
"Is it weird that I can't wait to get mine but I'm still scared of when you'll get yours?"
"No, absolutely not. I totally understand. We all have a fear of change, peach. Some of us more than others. But it's going to be such gradual change that you won't even think of it, okay? It's exactly how I explained it to Jackson. Even when I get top surgery, which will probably be the most dramatic change, it's not going to be such a big shock. I promise."
India had to end the call rather quick after that. Apparently some doctor needed to talk to her about some stuff, and he could hear her grit her teeth before saying her goodbyes - the doctor called her "Mr. McGinty" - so it must not have been good.
He had a… sort of date, with Emile, at Times Square later. His sister was going to this bar in Greenwich right after the ball drop, so until then, she said she'd chaperone - as if they needed one. But Nathalie had some rules and stuff so they had to have her around, or else.
Whatever that else would be.
"Dad, I'm going out!" A hum of agreement came from his dad's room. Okay then…
Remy got his bag and his phone, sent a quick text to Chris wishing him a happy new year - he probably wasn't going to see it until Remy pointed it out to him when they got back to Boston - and left.
(He probably should check on his dad, but he was going to be alright. Two and a half years sober now, and he had his cartoons. He was going to be okay.)
——
11:57:11 12 13 14... p.m.
"I'm cold!"
"You're from Minnesota, Emile."
"I don't see your point."
Emile was wrapped in his own yellow coat and Remy's black coat (well, one of his three black coats; this particular one he got on a trip to Disneyland when his dad worked on the national tour of some musical, he already forgot) and was still freezing. How in the…
"Do you want to go to Starbucks and get a hot chocolate?"
"Is Starbucks even open at this hour?"
"There's one on fifteen hundred. It's open twenty-four hours."
"...okay, fine." Remy offered his hand and Emile quickly wrapped his arm around Remy's, allowing him to lead the way.
1500 Broadway wasn't the closest to the ball, but Remy was sure that they could make it there and back.
Maybe it was a bit of wishful thinking, but he was going to be an optimist this time.
11:58:28 29 30 31… p.m.
"We never told Juliana that we're going," Emile muttered through chittering teeth. "My mom is going to be so mad—"
"Emile, babe, calm down. We're almost there."
The huge building was already in their line of sight, and Remy couldn't feel happier. He could totally use a latte right about now, and Emile obviously needed a hot chocolate and a cookie. The poor thing was seconds away from becoming a human icicle.
He didn't want to be responsible for his best friend suffering from hypothermia, after all.
"You see that huge building over there?" Remy couldn't make out if Emile was nodding under all his layers or what.
"What about it?"
"We're gonna go to Starbucks in there, okay?"
"You're an addict, you know that?"
Remy didn't listen. So he liked his Starbucks, so what.
He dragged Emile behind him.
11:59:38 39 40 41… p.m.
The line was moving awfully slow for some reason. Remy had no fucking idea why so many people were at Starbucks so close to the ball drop…
Well, he was being a bit of a hypocrite.
"Can we get something to eat too?" Emile whispered to him, standing on his toes. The black coat from Disneyland was back in Remy's possession. The building was warm enough.
"Sure, why not?"
"Thanks, sweetie!"
Sweetie. Holy shit
"Schmuel would work till half past ten at his tailor shop in Klimovich," Emile sang to himself. Remy remembered that song very well. Norbert Leo Butz had a very… interesting way of singing it.
Then again, he never heard anyone else sing it.
He would ask Emile where he heard that song later.
"Forty-one years had come and gone at his tailor shop in Klimovich—"
"Ten, nine, eight…" oh crap.
Remy grabbed Emile's shoulder, shutting him up momentarily. It took just a couple of moments for either of them to fully realize what was going on before—
They kissed.
If there were fireworks they were blinded by the fluorescent lights and deafened by the loud cheers all around them, but they still kissed.
Kissing his blond was very different from kissing his boyfriend. Not that it felt wrong or anything, just... different. Nothing forced, nothing too overpowering. It was lovely, and sweet, and Emile was as soft as always. Nothing felt wrong there.
Not even the little voice that said that Chris won't like it. He wasn't there. He didn't need to know.
And so, they kissed.
——
Wednesday, January 1st, 2003
00:17 a.m.
"You saw The Last Five Years?" Remy asked, a cup of latte warming his rather freezing hands as he walked Emile back to his hotel (Juliana left them to go to a party in Greenwich Village).
"I didn't go to school for anything but my exams from mid-April. I saw that musical so many times, I kinda lost count."
"Oh, okay. Cool."
#kylo cant write#sanders sides#remy/sleep#emile picani#remile...? remile#keep him safe#sleep is for the weak#the remy centric prequel#tw: period appropriate transphobia
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